Right, laserbrain, it’s all a spoof. It’s also a hoot, the most inventive video sendup of a video genre since Mary Hartman discovered that her life was being engulfed by waxy yellow buildup. Created by alumni of the famed Second City improvisational troupe and syndicated to 127 stations by MCA TV, this late-night comedy series flavors its satire with a loving feel for the heartland’s quirkier denizens. (Try to imagine Garrison Keillor writing “It’s Garry Shandling’s Show.”) So far, the reviews of “My Talk Show” have been more encouraging than the ratings, suggesting that some couch spuds can’t figure out what to make of it. But then that’s the problem with TV’s law of averages: it takes time to recognize the superior.
“My Talk Show” generates its hilarity from two interactions. The first is between the sweetly perky Jennifer (played by actress Cynthia Stevenson) and her bickering Derby colleagues–every one of them a fame-obsessed camera hog. Besides brother-in-law Marty Dissler, an overbearing dolt who lives in a trailer in Jennifer’s driveway, and organist Mrs. Battle, who’s forever whining about her aching feet, the regulars include Angela Davenport, Jennifer’s bawdy best friend and a former Hells Angel; Bucky Fergus, the town’s garrulous, if none too sharp, handyman, and Anne Marie Snelling, the pregnant leading lady of the Top Hat Dinner Theater. Brandishing some ultrasound pictures of her fetus, Anne Marie loudly boasts: “He already has great showbiz instincts. Look, he’s taking a bow!”
Splendid snit: The best moments, however, arrive when real celebrities get tossed into the mix. Once they stop looking incredulous–Stevenson swears that some guests think it’s a geninue talk show–most join in the joke and start playing off it. William Shatner, having met each of his hostess’s friends, beamed himself into a splendid snit. “These are demented buffoons,” he exploded. “Shame on you, Jennifer!” Peter (“Robocop”) Weller went Shatner one better. When Marty clumsily challenged his manhood (“Robochicken! Robochicken!”), Weller stalked off the set. Sometimes the guests surprise even themselves. After an audience member taunted Florence Henderson, the ever-proper matriarch of “The Brady Bunch” proffered him a finger. It may have been her first ad lib.
But the show’s biggest shocker surfaced last week. Viewers learned that Anne Marie Snelling was taking over the job of hostess, leaving Jennifer free to embark on a tour of the nation in the family Winnebago. The development created some “Twin Peaks”-size mysteries. Was Jennifer truly tired of doing the show, as her TV bosses later claimed, or had they tired of her? Did the conniving Anne Marie undermine her friend in order to realize her lifelong fantasy–to give birth on national television? And how will all this affect America’s hat I capital, not to mention Mrs. Battle’s feet? I
It’s the talk of the town.
