Are We The Only Ones That Think That...
...HBO's Flight of the Conchords has got to be one of the least funny TV shows to hit the airwaves--or cable to be exact, smartasses--in ages? Seriously, this is worse than cookie-cutter, lowest-common-denominator formula like, say, The Bill Engvall Show. At least, the standard issue sitcom crap has no delusions of being any good, let alone superior to its competition. Conchords comes across as the sort of hipster pseudo-comedy that seems to pursue a lack of laughter in the misguided belief that not being humorous is actually funny. (I think they call that laughing at you, guys.) At best, its surreal, uncomfortable situations recall another HBO original, Curb Your Enthusiasm, but without the latter show's wit or humor. At its worst...well, it is what it is: a drab, humorless situation devoid of comedy.
And while we’re on the subject of cable television, how about VH1’s lovely trifecta: the reality shows Rock of Love starring Poison front man Bret Michaels, and Scott Baio is 45…And Single; plus the upcoming sitcom I Hate My 30s. The first two further prove that:
a) mining '80s nostalgia still hasn't let up;
and
b) the list of available low-rung celebrities with little prospects—or shame—is rapidly getting slimmer and slimmer by the minute.
(When is Kathy Griffin doing one of these? Oh, wait…)
Obviously the fact that Flavor of Love made Public Enemy’s resident jester Flavor Flav, the biggest reality TV star of all time directly led to the Michaels vehicle. Can’t you just hear them in the boardroom? “Hey, look what we did with Flav. Imagine if we did the same thing but with a rocker and white chicks? Yeah! Ka-ching!” Yawn.
Scott Baio’s latest foray into TV is an hour-long cross between the Flavor/Rock of Love formula and one of the key plot devices from High Fidelity: namely, the revisiting of ex-girlfriends in order to reveal a deep truth about the protagonist known to everyone but (allegedly) himself. This “twist” comes courtesy of a life coach Baio has hired to help him sort out his love ‘em-and-leave ‘em ways. It also adds to the mix a middle-aged, schlubby, wannabe actor named Johnny Venokur aka Johnny V, for whom the term pathetic might be both a compliment and an upgrade. V’s been Baio’s wingman for a quarter of a century, and having no life of his own, he understandably objects, undermines and, ultimately, tries to sabotage his bud's quest for happiness. “If it weren’t for me, he’d never get laid,” Baio states in the show’s first episode. Beautiful. Zzzzz…
Who, exactly, is the intended audience for I Hate My 30s? Is it the 30-something crowd that rarely watches VH1 and whom they hope to reel in? Or, is it a cautionary, albeit funny, tale for the young’uns that do tune in? Either way, if previews are to be trusted, this looks far from promising.
