Friday, Jul 4, 2008
With boldly obnoxious late-night shows from Bill Maher and English comedian Sacha Baron Cohen (aka Ali G), HBO is poised to conquer the inebriated landscape of Friday night.
Feb 22, 2003 | Weekend late nights offer TV programmers a rare chance to let down their hair. After all, by the time 11:30 p.m. rolls around, those who spent the evening watching huggable Christian shows like "Touched by an Angel" should be safely tucked away in their beds, leaving room for more obnoxious and offensive offerings designed to entertain younger -- and possibly more inebriated -- viewers.
But even during a more relaxed time slot, HBO distinguishes itself from its clumsier, more lowbrow cable brethren by catering to our basest desires for blatant hamming, silliness and insults without insulting our intelligence. HBO's flexibility certainly isn't surprising at this point -- shows like "The Sopranos," "Sex and the City," "Curb Your Enthusiasm" and "Six Feet Under" don't just share excellent writing and unique storylines, they share a sense of fun and unapologetic goofiness.
When Larry David swaps bedroom stories with Krazee-Eyez Killa, Christopher expresses shock over Ralphie's toupee while disposing of his corpse, and Brenda responds to Nate's declarations of love in bed by whispering, "Let's pretend we don't know each other," the absurdity of human experience is reflected with a refreshing freedom, a freedom that the networks, with their self-consciousness and censorious attitude, never seem to manage no matter how late it is. HBO stretches the boundaries of this freedom more than ever with its new Friday night lineup, featuring two lively new shows that are sure to get blood flowing to boozy gray matter nationwide.
The network's first good move was to snatch up Bill Maher after he was summarily dumped from his "Politically Incorrect" gig for being -- you guessed it! -- politically incorrect. His crime? Playing devil's advocate in a debate on 9/11, a subject so precious and untouchable that no compulsively outspoken public figure in their right mind would go near it without a carefully worded script in their hands. Covert P.C. forces couldn't have arranged a better frame job if they tried. There Maher was, on live TV, responsible for inciting a spirited discussion of a subject that could render Howard Stern politely comatose.
Still, the death of "Politically Incorrect" wasn't exactly universally mourned. Watching a gaggle of celebrities trade bone-headed remarks about the pressing and important issues du jour is about as fun as discussing the Shallowness of America with a European. No matter how valid their points might be, there's something about facing down a relentless barrage of sweeping generalizations and worn-out clichés that can make anyone feel like, well, like a shallow American. Pretty people guessing at the facts? That's like "Crossfire," but without the experts. Personally, I'd rather watch pretty people swim in the ocean and build shelters and stuff.
Luckily, on "Real Time With Bill Maher" (Fridays at 11:30 p.m. on HBO), our host has replaced the pretty people with a fairly entertaining mix of talking heads and comedians. After an unsteady start, with a jittery monologue and an uninspired discussion on Iraq with Rep. Dana Rohrabacher (R-Calif.), Maher announces, "I feel like this is what my whole life has been leading to, cutting off the riff-raff I used to have on the show, and getting the very best people! 'Politically Incorrect' -- I loved doing that show, but we cast a very wide net. Here, we are not doing that. Very small net. The people you see here will be coming back week after week."
What better way to get us hooked, than by insulting the boneheads? And based on the first manic discussion between author and professor Michael Eric Dyson, fright-wing agitator and author Ann Coulter, and comedian and Daily Standard columnist Larry Miller, life without the boneheads is much more bearable. Dyson makes solid, incisive points without rambling on, Miller throws some good jokes into the mix, and Coulter ... well, she's her usual shrill self. Still, it's fun to see Maher snap at her, "You just make shit up!"
In fact, once he has a chance to spar a little, Maher starts to hit his stride. He does a good job of keeping the show moving forward, and manages to squeeze a few good one-liners into the mix. During a discussion of a possible war with Iraq, he asserts that Saddam Hussein has nothing to do with Osama bin Laden: "It's like we've lost our keys in the garage but we're looking for them in the living room because there's better light!"
In addition to the discussion segment, which quickly covers four or five topics, there's a summary of the week's events by comedian Paul Tompkins, who begins by announcing, "We're at code orange right now, and panic is the new black." Then, to summarize the anxiety America is feeling, he explains that "It's like when you're trying to go to sleep on Christmas Eve if you know that when you wake up on Christmas Day, Santa's going to pour anthrax in your eyes and ears."
Closing abruptly with a solid, as-offensive-as-you-wanna-be stand-up routine by Sarah Silverman, "Real Time with Bill Maher" feels like double time -- the pace is, at times, uncomfortably frantic. Still, by replacing the endless blathering and debate-club oversimplification of "Politically Incorrect" with fewer, more informed guests and faster, more satisfying features, Maher's show has the potential to mature into an enjoyable late-night attraction.
In contrast to the accelerated political talk of Bill Maher's new vehicle, "Da Ali G Show" toys with disinformation at its own leisurely pace. Still, this new offering, which airs directly after Maher's at 12:30 a.m., features a comedian with so much natural talent that everything he touches turns to gold -- gold jewelry, that is. Sacha Baron Cohen plays the outsider seeking more information about American culture using three alter egos: Ali G, a "hip-hop journalist" who repeatedly botches the facts, referring to 9/11 as "7-Eleven" and the U.N. as "the United Nations of Benetton"; Borat, a baffled TV reporter from Kazakhstan; and Bruno, a saucy Austrian fashion journalist. Cohen interviews a wide range of experts, ranging from etiquette coach Helen Pye to former U.N. Secretary General Boutros Boutros-Ghali. Incredibly enough, most of those being interviewed seem to believe Cohen's character is a real person.
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