Holey Thursday

Back when I was an active sitcom writer I'd have given my right nut to have a script air on any of NBC's beknighted Thursday comedies. Even after I receded from the picture I stayed in thrall to Must-See TV. But now that standard has declined as precipitously as the San Francisco 49ers. What used to be a showcase of Hollywood's cleverest comic writing, from "Friends" through "Seinfeld," "Frasier" and "Will & Grace," has been reduced to a threesome of "Joey," "Committed," and the hoary veteran, "Will & Grace," now nothing more than a minstrel show of stereotypical gags (albeit occasionally sharp and witty).

I have been monitoring "Committed," out of a lingering desire for some network product to engage me, but it has certainly not bolted out of the gate. I've seen three of four episodes, and Tom Poston still hasn't logged more than a scene's worth of material. Last night he emerged for his longest stint, though he was not as funny as his prop--an oxygen tank he must lug around to survive. He really is dying, haha. The blonde sidekick (who has good timing, though she is cut of the same cloth as Will & Grace's Karen) eked some laughs out of the tokes she took from the tank. NBC's idea of a hip drug reference, I guess.

Meanwhile, the other sidekick, Nate's NFL linebacker of a business partner (also with good delivery) has been saddled with bizarre sexual "C" plots (which writers call "runners"). In one episode he discovers his Chinese ideogram tattoo means he is a gay, uh, receiver. He gets it changed to something signifying "Lemon Chicken" (which is supposed to be a Chinese-food joke but could certainly be a Mandarin idiomatic euphemism for a gay, uh, receiver). Yesterday he recorded a song to his mother that had worse than Oedipal implications. It turns out to be a smash with his church Gospel choir. (This series has already wandered into sexual territory uncharted by the antiseptic "Will & Grace.") The "A" plot had Marnie trying to extinguish a fictional dating relationship she'd concocted to prevent sexual harassment. As silly as this sounds, it is not totally implausible, given what howlers most people append to their job resumes. But the writers will need to anchor some of their characters in reality (with a small "r"--though it might be amusing to see Tom Poston dragging his oxygen tank on "The Amazing Race," maybe even teamed with the hulk with the gay tattoo).

Then there's "Joey." Ah, Joey, Joey, Joey. "People's Choice" winner for Best New Comedy (well, it beats Jason Alexander's effort). I really wanted to like this show. But I can't say it's actually a disappointment, because I didn't have high expectations. The history of spin-offs has been quite checkered since "December Bride" and "The Andy Griffith Show" began the tradition. By 2004 obvious patterns of success and failure have emerged, but no programmers seems to have the historical perspectives--or the guts--to make the correct decisions. From the choices made, there was little chance of "Joey" really working.

Spin-offs, which are basically sitcom marketing shortcuts, need to be rooted in either an excellent, rounded central character ("Frasier") or actually be about something ("Maude," "Good Times,"...mister, we could use a man like Norman Lear again.) "Joey" is neither. When lifting a character from a hit ensemble it's never a good idea to choose the one with the extreme characteristic. Remember Phyllis? Remember Klinger? How about The Tortellis? Joey, on "Friends," was the Dumb One, embedded in the mix to evoke our glee with his stupidity. There's one in every crowd, certainly every sitcom, for "stupid" is the easiest route to a gag. But this does not a Central Character make. The writers are striving to draw him into the center of the mental continuum in this cast, intellectually behind his genius nephew (right--like they share the same gene pool!), equivalent to his slutty sister and, seemingly, many gray cells ahead of his blonde neighbor who has been struggling all season to find a raison d'etre. But yesterday's runner, in which she meets, dances with and eventually breaks up with a potential lesbian lover without ever getting the slightest clue--uh-uh, sorry. Even Dubya would have caught on at some point. Also, oughtn't running gags culminate in some pay-off? We need to see her reaction when the truth dawns on her, otherwise there's nothing funny to the experience--even if Joey promised there would be.

Usually by midway in a writing season the staff has gained a better grasp of the fictional venue and the abilities of the cast, and gets into stride. But there's a lot of tripping (not the fun kind---or maybe it is the fun kind)---going on here. No one seems to know what to do with Gina. Drea deMatteo, a casting coup, is a powder keg of a potential energy but given little to do but joke about her tits. Nothing she's enacted has been as remotely as entertaining as her great barf scene at the FBI interrogation in "The Sopranos." Hell, she was funnier when she got popped in the forest. And why is a bimboesque character playing a bimbo? That's not funny, that's on-the-nose. She needs to be more of an idiot savant, with some incongruous mental acuity to contrast with her sluttiness--and which would help explain the astrophysicist son.

Her son has potential in his dynamic with Joey. It is somewhat reminiscent of the Sam/Diane mental mismatches. But they don't mine this for enough laughs. Other recurrent characters are hit and miss. Hits come from the gifted Jennifer Coolidge. Though she seems to overplay the ravenous agent, hey, I knew the infamous Helen Kushnick, and she's not far off the mark. As far as "misses" go, there's the shlubby neighbor who tried to glom onto Joey. Didn't see him in last night's episode. I don't miss him.

With ill-defined characters who relate unconvincingly to each other, the only way to salvage the series is to turn it into a satire of the Hollywood milieu and the travails of an actor. There is certainly material for that, as every writer and actor in the show could extract story lines from his or her journals. And giving Joey a network series gig is a step in the right direction. But it is also a familiar arena, made moreso by its current ubiquity on HBO, with "Project Greenlight," "Entourage" and "Unscripted" covering similar ground, and more grittily.

"Joey" is a moderate success because of its heritage, and will stumble its way into a 2005 pick-up. But like other Thursday hammocked duds such as "Good Morning Miami!" (with its weather nun), and the Kirstie Alley and Brooke Shields sitcoms, this one will be undergoing a lot of cosmetic surgery over the summer. If it were me, I'd take all these characters and relocate them to a cruise ship. Couldn't hurt, and there'd be more barfing.