Oliver Beene
Fox
Sundays 8:30 p.m. / 7:30 p.m. Central
The setting is nigh fantastical: Middle America, in the early 1960s.
The feel is one part "Malcolm in the Middle," one part A Christmas Story and three parts dewy-eyed colt, unsure of its footing, but dashing heedlessly forward into a dark forest of comedy and drama that it can barely comprehend.
And in a world that treats promising new shows with unrestrained impatience and cruelty, the vibe of "Oliver Beene" is half intoxicating, and half horror-show terrifying.
Will "Beene" be given the time it needs to blossom into a raging stag of a comedy? Or will it be mercilessly put down by cowardly FOX execs on safari for the next instant success?
Few shows start out as polished gems. "Larry Sanders" started slow. "The Simpsons" had a couple dodgy, rocky seasons. "Twin Peaks"... Well, "Twin Peaks" is sort of magical. But a raw beginning is typical for even eventually fantastic shows, and "Oliver Beene" still has a way to go.
"Beene" follows the social and cultural mishaps of an off-kilter typical American family living in a nuanced — but still nostalgically charged — interpretation of the early 1960s. The show stars 11-year-old Grant Rosenmeyer (who played a stolidly charming Ari Tenenbaum in The Royal Tenenbaums) as Oliver Beene, the bright, affable, slightly dorked-out youngest son in a healthy but nutty family of four. Supporting him are his teenaged older brother Ted (comically horny, but implausibly gun-shy when it's time to get his freak on) and his essentially harmless parents. Dad, for those old people still keeping score, is Grant Shaud — you know, Miles, from "Murphy Brown."
And starring off-camera, as the expository and narralicious voice of grown-up, older-but-wiser-but-wistful Oliver Beene is none other than David Cross of "Mr. Show." Holy crap. Between that and the Tenenbaums connection, the show just about locks up the "beautiful nerd" demographic.
The beautiful thing about "Oliver Beene": It feels absolutely desperate. It's starving for a laugh. It uses an actor with big, scary man-tits to puncuate a joke. It features a neurosurgeon character working his pecs to an outrageous backing track of comic sound effects. It relocates classic, cliched Hollywood lines like "So, Beene, what are you running from?" to settings — like the nerd-stuffed game room of a beach club — where they're both appropriate and hilarious.
Moreover, the show is happy to take stylistic risks. There's some bleeped swearing — but only once. There's a couple of mega flash-forwards, some bizarre visual effects (one prop-assisted, one computer-created) and some clever use of sound. The series is letting it all hang out, and rolling the dice.
But here's the terrible thing about "Oliver Beene": It feels absolutely desperate. When the father, drunk out of his mind on gin, moons an entire beach club in the service of a completely legitimate plot point, it feels hammy and oddly obvious. When the mother, trying desperately to utilize a self-help record designed to increase her conversational skills, makes deeply stilted small talk with the club's social committee, it's painful — and we saw it coming a mile away. When Ted clumsily admires a teenage girl's "boobies," it's so dumb that's it's off the charts, resting comfortably in the land of stupid jokes that tried and died.
And after only one episode, it's unfair to condemn the show's characters for mostly being one-dimensional and lacking in nuanced hooks. So this review won't even hint at it. But if summoned before a Congressional hearing on sitcom quality, it certainly wouldn't deny it, either.
It would take the Fifth.
Because of this exact set of weaknesses, it's especially unfortunate that FOX chased the debut of "Beene" with back-to-back episodes of "Malcolm in the Middle." If any modern sitcom truly has its act together, it may be "Malcolm"; the show swings with polished, seemingly effortless grace and rhythm. Plot developments, as bizarre as they often may be, always feed smoothly into the show's central narrative. And the show's deep and complicated characters feel comfortable as an old pair of socks, while still retaining the capacity to surprise the hell out of you. When Francis brutally smashes the keyboard of an enigmatic but infuriating German pianist, it's nuts — but totally in character. And when Malcolm's dad lets the house get out of control to the point where Malcolm takes refuge in an attic, it's totally understandable, if not mostly sympathetic.
"Oliver Beene" has a long way to go before it approaches the smoothie sweetness of "Malcolm." But it's got a deep bag of tricks, some skilled actors, and the guts to try whatever it takes. Here's hoping it gets the time it needs to blossom and grow.
— James Norton (jrnorton@flakmag.com)
