If FOX's "The O.C." is any example, creator Josh Schwartz is a man who stubbornly abides by the adage, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." The premise of the show is familiar to anyone who has ever seen teen entertainment. In a nutshell, it could be described as "Rebel Without a Cause" by way of "Beverly Hills, 90210." First with "90210," and then with "Melrose Place," FOX has already proved that a show need not be terribly original in order to be damn addictive. All it really needs is beautiful, wealthy young Southern Californians. "The O.C." proudly follows in that tradition.

Ryan Atwood (Benjamin McKenzie) is the good, smart kid from a rough town (Chino, Ca., best known for its maximum security prison). In the first episode, he runs into some trouble, and he is taken in by his sympathetic lawyer, Sandy Cohen (Peter Gallagher). Thus Ryan is introduced to life in ritzy suburban Newport Beach. Ryan promptly befriends Sandy's son, Seth, the local geek (Adam Brody) and falls in love with the girl next door, pretty but not-quite-single Marissa Cooper (Mischa Barton). Predictably, in the next few episodes, Ryan has trouble fitting in, fights Marissa's boyfriend Luke (Chris Carmack) several times, almost sheds tears over family troubles, and like every good teen protagonist, spends several hours a day sitting around and looking troubled. For good measure, he even hangs out in an abandoned mansion with an empty pool, a la James Dean in "Rebel."

But it is because of these blatant rip-offs and unoriginal ideas, not in spite of them, that "The O.C." is so watchable. It unapologetically embraces the whole teen drama genre. Where "Dawson's Creek" and "The Gilmore Girls" try to add intelligence by infusing melodrama with self-conscious irony, "The O.C." neither claims nor tries to be anything beyond a cheesy teen drama. It gives us what we want, lots of it, and nothing else.

A typical episode of "The O.C." will have a plethora of sweeping shots of sun-drenched coastline and catchy beach-appropriate tunes, like its theme song, Phantom Planet's "California." It will also have at least one fistfight, at least one big party and more than a few shots of Summer, Marissa's hot best friend, wearing just a bra or bikini top. But the producers know what not to reveal as well: five episodes in, we have yet to see Ryan and Marissa kiss, though they've come achingly close on some occasions.

The script is unremarkable but realistic, relative to that of its predecessors. Tearful confessions of love and long existentialist rants are at a minimum. Casual references to pool parties and comic books are sprinkled liberally throughout. Delivering the lines are a cast of attractive and passably skilled actors. McKenzie, a Russell Crowe lookalike, is reasonably convincing as the brooding Ryan. Unfortunately, for a character who is at the center of most of the plotlines, Ryan is surprisingly uninteresting. He is a run-of-the mill "bad kid with good heart" character, nothing more. He has no interests, no thoughts, no quirks-unless you count that weird thing he does, where his eyes roll over to look before his head does. Barton is equally adequate and slightly more interesting, but Marissa isn't given much to do other than look torn about her love life and worried about her home life.

The adults in the series have their own subplots and are played by good actors who seem comfortable in their roles. As Seth's parents, Gallagher and Kelly Rowan have a sweet old-married-couple chemistry. Marissa's parents, played by Tate Donovan and Melinda Clarke, are good when apart, but less believable as a married couple, albeit a failing one.

However, the real standout in the cast is Brody, whose Seth is the one character who seems to truly possess a unique personality. Seth walks the fine line between geek and geek chic, and Brody has the act down cold. With his nervous chatter, awkward hand gestures, he's the requisite dorky best friend, in the tradition of Xander from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and Screech from "Saved By the Bell." With his cheeky Urban Outfitters T-shirts and subdued sense of humor, he's a dorky best friend you'd actually want to hang out with.

"The O.C." makes no attempt to expand outside of its formula, but it doesn't need to. What it does do, it does well, and with no shame. Essentially, it is this pride that makes watching "The O.C." a real pleasure. Enough with the self-awareness and irony. A little unadulterated cheesiness can be refreshing every now and then.