“Come Monday…” is a
weekly series that will involve a review of, or commentary about, websites, movies, documentaries, television
shows, sports, music, and whatever else may tickle my fancy at the time. Be assured that these reviews will be
generally positive, as in accordance to the Jimmy Buffett song “Come
Monday.” This is subject to change,
however. In fact, I would be most
derelict in my duties to neglect going on a rant every once in a while. For rants promote change, and change can be
good—right? Therefore, since good is
generally considered as being a positive force in 99.3% of the parallel universes
that I am aware of, even a rant could be considered as being something positive,
and a genuine hissy-fit would be even better (so I’m told).
This
will be a rather mixed review of the new ABC show, [Malibu Country], which is
currently airing new episodes at 7:30 p.m. Central on Fridays. For I about laughed my rear-end off (‘tis saying
a lot in more ways than one) while watching the first episode, but the second
one fell relatively flat to me.
No,
I don’t think that they turned the laugh-track up louder in the second episode,
which took much away from it to me. In
fact, I don’t think it would be possible to do so without drowning out much of
the dialogue.
Seriously,
why do producers still feel a need to include a laugh-track with comedies? For I can understand that it was necessary
back when Ma and Pa Kettle got their first television in order to make it
easier for them to enjoy watching on account of it being pounded up the sides
of their heads from the day of their birth that it was quite impolite to laugh
at someone else’s plight—especially from afar, but a polite society is a
concept long since abandoned.
Speaking
of such, Malibu Country does have [Lily Tomlin] going for them by playing
[Reba’s mom]. For all it takes is just
one of “her looks” to crack me up, and the premise of the show gives her plenty
of opportunities to deploy a number of them.
You
see, Malibu Country is about the soon to be ex-wife of a major country-western
singer trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered life in a beach house in
Malibu, California, which she didn’t even know her husband owned until she
filed for a divorce on account of his less than discreet interactions with
fans, production staff, back-up singers, media personnel and any sweet young
thing who happened to catch his eye. Aside
from her mother, accompanying [Reba] are her [super shallow older son] and [super serious younger daughter]. Oh, and there
is also a [nosy California girl], as well as the [flaming assistant] of a record-producer, thrown in for good measure. Now,
if this doesn’t give Lilly’s celebrated brow plenty of opportunities to furrow,
I don’t know what could.
No,
it certainly doesn’t hurt with opportunities for comedic triumphs to flourish
to have [Reba McEntire] playing the lead role.
For she can look dumb better than most, and I am fairly sure that it
doesn’t require any coaching.
No,
that is not to suggest that Reba really is dumb. So, send all that hate-mail somewhere else. (Okay, since I really don’t have much of a
life, I wouldn’t mind getting a few hateful responses.) (Sigh.)
All
things told, I think Malibu would be well worth at least a few look-sees. If anything, just to crack up over Lilly’s
looks of utter exasperation, and [Sara Rue] is lookin’ smokin’ hot these days!
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