TLC's 'Pawn Queens' is nothing of value

Suburban Chicago's Naperville Jewelry & Loan is headed by two women claiming theirs is "the only pawnshop that caters to women." So it doesn't take "Pawn Queens" five minutes to start drooling over purses and shoes.

As in History's hit "Pawn Stars" and other what'll-ya-gimme hagglefests, would-be sellers bring in their treasures -- from a Barbie dolled up like Lucille Ball hawking Vitameatavegamin, to a dog bed made of 95,000 hand-cut crystals. They talk up their stuff, while Nikki Ruehl and Minda Grabiec, partners in the teeny storefront shop, discuss why the offerings are or aren't worth buying. We later hear more, including from two male partners for gender balance, when they provide comments for the camera.

MY SAY Sound familiar? Yep, it's the same tired quick-clip template, right down to show-ending shots of the sun going down and store doors being locked. These cliched collages of daily life, sliced and diced down to "interesting" moments, really only work when a show's characters are, well, characters -- people with personality, sharp repartee, combustible relationships.

Unfortunately, "Pawn Queens" has a cast of dullards. You can practically spot the producers sneaking behind them with cattle prods, trying to poke some "perky" into the proceedings. But all they arouse is contrived small talk ("Do I remind you of Lucy?") and forced fizz ("Like a shining blaze of glory, this 12-foot knight is just waiting to be bought!").

Even the fundamental redeeming feature in these sell-stuff shows -- the descriptive back story that makes "Pawn Stars" a History fit -- is fumbled here. The "facts" conveyed along the way are either questionable (World War II "ended in May of 1945"?) or awkwardly shoehorned-in. Appraising a magician's saw-her-in-half apparatus, Nikki bubbles, "Hey, Arsenio Hall and Johnny Carson started out as magicians. This could be my big break!"

BOTTOM LINE No sale.

GRADE D