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'My Name is Earl,'
urbane cornpone
NBC sitcom only looks dumb. That's by design.
By Steven Rosen
On first description, “My Name Is Earl” sounds like an
attempt by NBC to dumb down its heritage of classy, urbane
sitcoms and improve its sagging ratings in the rural and
conservative red states. Looks can deceive. This is a show so
subversively, so outrageously cool that Larry David would appreciate
it.
Jason Lee plays a blue-collar yahoo who drives a beat-up El
Camino and steals from cars at convenience stores. He has a hot and
trashy blonde ex-wife and a drunken and loutish brother who gets
chased by cops a lot. When Earl’s not doing time himself, he’s
scheming for a buck.
But this is not “Hee Haw” with a plot. Nor is it a hick
version of the blue-collar “According to Jim.” Maybe it’s best
thought of as a post-“Seinfeld,” post-modernist version of
“Dukes of Hazzard.” Creator Greg Garcia’s show is hip and
irreverent, sophisticated even when its characters do dumb things,
and slyly winking at an audience bright enough to get its references
and be intrigued by its stylishly cinematic production values.
In short, it’s another intelligent NBC comedy -- only in
disguise. And that makes this brave, clever attempt to shake up the
staid world of sitcoms both praiseworthy and risky. This is a major
departure from the network’s stale world of
big-city-singles shows, yet its zippy aesthetic can be appreciated
by those very educated singles who identified with “Friends” or
“Seinfeld.”
Its problem may be that it's so offbeat that it may have trouble connecting with
the demographic most inclined to get its humor.
In that regard, it may have a problem similar to the one facing the
equally hip and offbeat NBC sitcom that follows it on Tuesdays,
“The Office.”
But then again, maybe not. Unlike the dry, droll
“Office,” “Earl” has an earthy, sexy, sometimes-foul-mouthed
natural exuberance that is winning to anyone who sees it. It also has a terrific
actor in Lee, a
one-time professional skateboarder who has made a name for himself
in films like “Vanilla Sky” and “Heartbreakers” as a weirdly
friendly sidekick who may or may not be smarter than he looks.
In “Earl,” he accomplishes being both shifty and
sincere. His Earl is a reprobate but also a teddy bear with his
thick mustache, messy shock of hair and bright engaging smile.
He’s not exactly harmless but appears likely to hurt himself as much as anyone else. And proving a good foil
for him is Ethan Suplee as his fast-drinking, slow-witted brother,
Randy.
The opening episode is about Earl finding karma, an
indication of how hip the show really is. No sitcom going after a
hardcore NASCAR audience would base its first episode around a
Buddhist concept about seeking balance in life.
He discovers karma by watching Carson Daly discuss the
concept on TV. He then decides to right all his past wrongs and gain
positive karmic standing by becoming kind-hearted. He is helped on
his road to recovery by winning $100,000 in a scratch-game lottery.
This somehow leads to Earl attempting to make up to a timid former
childhood nemesis by sending him an ugly hooker as a gift.
Complications ensue.
There’s a goofball, put-on aspect that those familiar
with indie films like “Bottle Rocket,” “Opposite of Sex” or
“American Splendor” will recognize. It also has the cinematic
structure of such fashionably edgy movies with its fragmented
narrative, deadpan narration and an active camera that whooshes and
slides in and out of flashbacks faster than Earl can rev his El
Camino.
One might detect in “Earl” a satire on the
quasi-religious do-gooder TV series like “Highway to Heaven,”
“Touched by an Angel” and Amy Grant’s new “Three Wishes”
(also on NBC). But if that’s the genesis, so to speak, of the
show, it’s not the point of it. The point is just to have a good
time, but to be very smart and original about achieving it.
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Sept.
20, 2005
©
2005
Media Life
- Steven Rosen
is a Los Angeles writer.
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