Australian Tumbleweeds

Australia's most opinionated blog about comedy.

Bye, bye the Habibs

No one expected the first sitcom from Channel 9 for a billion years to be amazing, which Here Come the Habibs duly wasn’t. But it wasn’t totally awful either and perhaps we should feel grateful for that? It’s arguable that the show deserves a second series, but, for the most part, it was just… competent? The characters were somewhat consistent, the plotlines weren’t complete rubbish, the cameras were pointing at the action and the microphones were turned on. Maybe that last one wasn’t a plus.

This blog post is supposed to be a vale for the first series of the Habibs, but it’s more a deep sigh. Why can’t we make decent TV sitcoms in this country? What’s our problem?

Televised Revolution make a good point when they argue that it’s not a healthy sign that it’s always the same production companies who get to make local comedy shows, but we can’t help but return to our blog of last Sunday and argue that it’s the fact that it’s always the same writers writing these programs that’s the bigger problem. Go through the credits of the past couple of decades of Australian TV comedies and you’ll see the same writers turn up in the credits for all sorts of shows, made by all sorts of companies. Writers who churn out scripts that are competent but not outstanding, wherever they go.

In the case of Here Come the Habibs, many of the writers are the sort of well-established folk you’d expect to find writing episodes of a sitcom, having worked on middling comedy shows such as The Nation, Wednesday Night Fever, Randling, Balls of Steel Australia, Housos, Pizza, Good News Week, The Moodys, Chandon Pictures, The Elegant Gentleman’s Guide To Knife Fighting, The Hamster Wheel and Upper Middle Bogan.

Less excitingly, Habibs writers’ credits also included Home and Away, Neighbours, All Saints and Kitchen Cabinet. We don’t mind the idea that these writers have worked on a few less-than-successful comedy programs, but soap operas and lightweight politics shows? Er, no.

It’s understandable – just – that television production companies in this country want to call on writers who have written television before. But what we need is writers who’ve a): written comedy before, and way more importantly otherwise you just get Dave O’Neil in the credits of everything, b): done a good job of it. In the past it was usually the case that good sitcoms came from good writers who were writing more or less for themselves (Frontline, The Games). Can it really be the case that no-one in Australia has had a good sitcom idea since then? That the only people coming up with sitcoms are people who already work at production companies and have already written hours of generic, forgettable television product?

If we want to get good at sitcoms in this country, we need to be able to call on writers who’ve got lots of experience of writing sitcoms. Production companies who’ve got lots of experience of making sitcoms would be very useful too, but it’s getting the scripts right we need to concentrate on. Because if we were to isolate the major problem with the Habibs, it would be that it didn’t contain a lot of laughs or good plotting, more broad slapstick and obvious-as-hell set-ups.

SEX! Now that we have your attention… sex?

Look on your works, ABC budget cuts, and despair. That’s our big take away from Luke Warm Sex, the ABC’s latest effort at conjuring television out of thin air using nothing but the idea that if it happens in front of a camera then it’s worth broadcasting to the nation. Yeah, as they say, nah.

Forget all the talk about its brave examination of an edgy topic: all we could see was a show where a host and a camera crew (two people? one?) wandered around doing a bunch of interviews where only the guy asking the questions was getting paid. How much further can the ABC distill down the idea of a television show before there’s literally nothing left to show? How much longer until their “comedy” line-up is just a picture of the cover of a VHS copy of Mother & Son?

The formula for this kind of show is firmly established, cheap as chips and as dull as fuck: our comedian host, wearing a hat that reads “I’M BEING SERIOUS YOU GUYS” sets out to explore via endless interviews a topic that has some tenuous link to their personal life. John Safran checked out religion in John Safran vs God; Judith Lucy checked out religion in Judith Lucy’s Spiritual Journey; now Luke McGregor checks out religion in Luke Warm Sex. Oh wait.

The first two shows on that list worked well; why doesn’t this one? For starters, both those shows came from a place of (mild) cynicism: their smart-alec leads wanted to explore a topic they were drawn to but skeptical about. The result: comedy as they recoiled from / mocked the extremes of their subject, while still treating it seriously enough for them to avoid coming off as dickheads just stirring up shit for a laugh.

Luke Warm Sex, on the other hand, often veers pretty darn close to Luke McGregor’s Personal Sex Therapy Half-Hour. McGregor is not skeptical about sex, nor is he confident about it; he is not in a position to laugh at it and walk away. This is a show about a likable but generally unsettled guy hanging around a bunch of more confident people going through a series of mildly interesting approaches to getting a handle on this whole sex thing. It seems to be doing him some good. Good for him.

We all know the angle here and the angle here is the only reason this show was made: a comedian who’s built his career around getting laughs from being awkward explores the extremely awkward topic of sex. That’s the hook. That’s the selling point. That’s the deal. That’s why we’re all here. If they wanted to inform people, they’d have the sexperts explaining things to a regular host. If they wanted to entertain people, they’d have made a completely different show.

McGregor can’t make comedy out of the extremes of what’s being served up to him because the whole point of the show is that he doesn’t know what the extremes are – and even if he did have firm boundaries that he’d set for himself, who’s to say many (or any) of his viewers would agree with them, what with sexuality generally being considered in 2016 to be “hey, whatever works for you”.

Obviously sex is totally hilarious. But it’s hilarious because of how it makes individuals act – it’s not funny in and of itself (unless, you know, you want to laugh about people putting stuff in their butts or that kind of thing, and this isn’t that kind of show). Luke McGregor, nervous neophyte, is not Alvin Purple having wacky sex adventures; we’re supposed to take his quest for sex knowledge seriously. The comedy is meant to be coming from the fact that it’s Luke McGregor, professional awkward guy, dealing with sex. And sex is awkward! He’s awkward! This is going to be awkward!

(whoops, awkward stopped being funny around 2012. Unless you have an actual sense of humour, then it was never all that funny in the first place outside a handful of shows. Curb Your Enthusiasm, this is not)

Crazy religious nutters are funny because we as a society have a generally agreed view of what is and isn’t acceptable religious behaviour. Cults: if you join one, you’re going to get laughed at. They’re also worth mocking because religious nutters often have an outsized role in the power structures of our society – just look at the Federal Senate. Put it together, you’ve got ripe territory for comedy, which is why both Safran’s and Lucy’s shows worked. But sex nutters? What’s funny about what two or more people do in the privacy of their own dungeon?

You can’t make fun of sex in 2016 because only uncool creeps have hang-ups about sex. In fact, the entire point of this show is meant to be that McGregor wants to get rid of his hang-ups about sex; if they’d made this show with an unrepentant prude as the host then all the comedy would come from sexperts mocking his or her foolish inhibitions. And you can’t make fun of a guy wanting to educate himself about sex because that would just be straight-up cruel. So the only possible source of comedy here comes from having an awkward guy put in an awkward situation and then realising he’s got nothing to be awkward about. Awww. Wait, this goes for three hours?

This isn’t a show about exploring sex; this is a show about one man exploring what sex means to him. And last time we checked, exploring sex on your own was a bit of a wank.

A Phoenix Rises from the Slather

It’s unusual to hear a TV executive say anything like what we’ve been saying about Australian comedy for years, so we wanted to note this interview for TV Tonight with Foxtel’s Brian Walsh:

Last year Foxtel rolled a big gamble on its sketch comedy series Open Slather produced by Laura Waters and Rick McKenna.

Despite an impressive launch the show nosedived in the ratings with disappointing reviews. Over its 20 episodes the show never managed to find a sustained audience.

TV Tonight recently asked Foxtel Director of Brian Walsh what he felt was the show’s key problem?

“The writing,” he admitted.

“They had a lot of issues with the writers room and changes in personnel.

“On paper it was all there. You had all the big names, with Laura and Rick. We gave it our all. But in the end the audiences just weren’t there for it.”

“Audiences just weren’t there for it”? Oh, Brian. You were doing so well with all that reflecting on how the poor writing had been the problem, and now you turn it around and blame the audience? Why the hell should be audiences “there for it” if the writing’s bad?

The interview continues…

Open Slather was Foxtel’s biggest investment in local comedy in years. But it is in discussions on new projects.

“My take on it is that Drama in this country has evolved and developed because we keep investing in writing,” he continued.

“All of the networks have been heavily committed to Drama. But Comedy has been very hit and miss.

“It’s very hard to build an industry of Comedy writers if the commissions are few and far between.”

Hard to argue with Brian, there.* We’ve long argued that under-investment in TV comedy has made it harder and harder for new local programs to be any good. Writers, producers and production teams make good shows when they’ve tried and failed and learnt what works a few times, not when they’re chucked into a writer’s room after a six-month stand-up career.

But, it looks like that experience those up-and-comers need is just around the corner…

“But we uncovered some great comedic talent. We said to Princess and Rick McKenna, ‘Let’s not lost the talent we’ve invested in.’ So many of the cast of Open Slather are involved in the new pilots that we’ve been funding.”

In addition to new projects in development Foxtel has animated comedy Pacific Heat from Working Dog and Whose Line Is It Anyway Australia from Roving Enterprises both due this year.

“I’m confident we’ll continue our commitment to Australian Comedy and we’re exploring fresh ideas,” he added,

Open Slather was a risk, as all Comedy is. We’ve just got to keep working at it.”

And as much as we’re skeptical that any of the above will actually be worth watching, we’re happy to hear that Foxtel is investing in new comedy. Even if a lot of the money seems to be going to established production companies (who in one case, are making a local version of a program which first aired on UK radio 28 years ago).

But, any new comedy that gives new or relatively inexperienced people opportunities is a good thing. As is a TV executive reflecting on where something’s gone wrong. It would just help if the audience didn’t get blamed in the process.

 

 

* Unless you want us to start blogging about where Australian TV drama’s going wrong.

Vale Black Comedy series 2

As Black Comedy vanishes in the rear vision mirror it’s increasingly clear – well, it was pretty obvious from the start, but sometimes it takes a while for these things to sink in – that of the two words in the title, only one is surprising to see on the ABC. Okay, we’re exaggerating for effect, but only slightly: is there anything else on the current ABC “comedy” line-up that remotely resembles a comedy?

Julia Zemiro’s Home Delivery is an interview show; The Weekly is watered-down current affairs (does anyone really think it’s a show where comedy comes first?). And presumably while the “Black” part of the title is what put the show on the air, it’s the “Comedy” that makes it stand out. Because over the last few years “comedy” has come to mean “all forms of light entertainment” on the national broadcaster. So to have an actual old-fashioned sketch show on the ABC in prime time? That’s ground-breaking stuff for 2016.

That said, Black Comedy is a solid sketch show that’s entertaining without being overly memorable. The extended “Wandaroorah” sketch in last week’s episode (in which a creepy outback town – shot to look like a 70s horror movie – decides to kidnap some Aborigines for NADOC week) was more interesting than hilarious, but we did finally get the “why do UFOs only kidnap white people?” “Because they’re easier to see in the dark” joke the trailers have been promising.

But simply being a solid sketch show is a pretty big deal these days. Yes, it’s yet to really find a way to turn its insights into race relations in this country into classic comedy – you may have noticed none of the usual online clearing houses have been running many Black Comedy sketches under the headline “Nailed It!” – but a sketch show that focuses on being funny is definitely doing something right.

Like we seem to say way, way too often, Black Comedy is a show that did the bare minimum to belong on our television screens. It was funny and insightful: it just wasn’t hilariously funny or deeply insightful. Yes, it’s great to have a show on television from a non-Anglo perspective, and it’s even better that it shows off a whole range of characters and behaviours rather than just a handful of cliches. But isn’t that the bare minimum we should expect from our television?

It’s great that a show like Black Comedy has been on the air for two seasons, but just because it’s better than pretty much all of the Anglo sketch shows of the last few years doesn’t mean we can’t demand something better.

Here Come the Habibs Again

Yesterday, TV Tonight reported that Channel 9 sitcom Here Come the Habibs, now two-thirds the way through its first series has been renewed:

Nine has renewed its new sitcom Here Come the Habibs! for a second series.

The series launched to 1.25m in overnight metro viewers, although Nine cites almost 3 million nationally including repeats and catch up. Last week the number had settled on 796,000 in overnight viewing.

But the show has also attracted some good reviews and plenty of press, as Nine’s only new hit of 2016. It was a risky move to attempt a commercial TV comedy, but it is one that has paid off.

We don’t normally pay much attention to ratings, but after all that OUTRAGE about Here Come The Habibs before it had even aired, there was a noticeable decline in audience numbers. And it seems the while the OUTRAGE helped (or didn’t hinder) the Habibs to pull a crowd for the first episode (1.25 million according to TV Tonight) since then it’s been all ratings slide…

TV Tonight on the ratings for episode 2:

The Habibs drew 944,000, down by 305,000.

TV Tonight on the ratings for episode 3:

In their third outings, local titles Wanted and Here Come the Habibs have done good business for Seven and Nine respectively -an encouraging sign for local content.

Both dipped slightly, Wanted was down by 23,000 to 899,000 and the Habibs down 48,000 to 896,000, but given their post 8:30 timeslots both have performed well.

TV Tonight gives the ratings for episode 4:

5 City Metro: 800,000

A browse through TV Tonight’s Timeshifted Ratings also shows a significant dip in viewer figures there.

To be fair, even with the declining free-to-air and timeshifted ratings, Here Come The Habibs remains one of the most-watched shows on Tuesday nights, so the renewal does make some sense. But then we read this on The Australian website:

Nine Network’s new hit comedy Here Come the Habibs will return next year.

Here Come the Habibs has paid off for Nine, averaging 1.115 million metropolitan viewers across its four episodes so far this year and has reached 7.593 million Australians in total.

The first episode had a national audience of close to 3 million, including encore and catch-up viewing.

More than 7.5 million Australians reached? WOW! No Australian show ever gets that number.

Hang on…”reached”? What the hell does that mean? And is this like Facebook’s definition of “reached”, which is, roughly speaking, “people who scrolled past your update in their feed as they moved between an update about their friend’s new baby and a LOLZ cat video posted by a former colleague”?

The Australian weren’t the only news outlet to cite the 7.593 million Australians reached figure. Mediaweek also reported it, adding:

The first episode attracted a national audience of almost three million viewers (including encore screenings and catch-up streaming on 9Now). The show has proved to be successful with younger viewers, ranking as the #2 program with People 16-39 for each of its four episodes.

Ah, we understand now. This renewal’s about the youth audience, historically a difficult demographic for Channel 9 to, er, reach. But what does this “reach” mean, again? 7.593 million is presumably the number of views the show’s had over multiple platforms, rather than the number of people who’ve seen the series at least once. Or are Channel 9 seriously claiming that a third of Australians have watched the Habibs at some point in their lives?

While we’re here, is anyone else reminded of the way the ABC used to justify bringing Chris Lilley back for a new series every couple of years, by telling people that it’s not about the ratings, guys, this show appeals to the kids, yeah, and we measure the kids’ interest in a show by different measures, okay?

And speaking of Lilley, is anyone also reminded of the way the ABC used to promote new Chris Lilley series, by fanning the flames of controversy before the show went to air? Presumably, the ABC at its PR worst has been some kind of benchmark for the folk down at Nine when it comes to publicising a new comedy then justifying its renewal after a ratings dive. Your eight cents a day at work, there!

And, like the ABC’s shitter comedies, for all its hype, Here Come the Habibs hasn’t been much of a show. It may have started off as a kinda promising “fish out of water” sitcom, but it’s rapidly turned into a weird mishmash of broad gags, slapstick, set-ups that don’t quite work, and teen soap-style romantic sub-plots. The stats gurus and PR wonks at Channel 9 may think it works with the 16-39 demo, but we’re not convinced. Largely because we’re in the demo, and we haven’t laughed at this program since episode 1.

Hey Hey It’s An Enormous Tsunami Of Complete Bullshit

One of the first things they’re meant to teach you at journalism school (yeah, like there’s any of them still open – ed) is: CONSIDER YOUR SOURCE. If someone is telling you something, you should stop and ask yourself “why are they telling me this? Is it possible they might have an ulterior motive? Could they be a self-promoting egotistical looney spouting demented fantasies the media only report in a desperate attempt to stir up shit? Worse, could you be speaking to Daryl Somers?”

Seriously, how else to explain this “story” in the Daily Telegraph:

RUSSELL Gilbert is on the road to recovery and is poised to make his TV comeback on a rebooted Hey Hey It’s Saturday later this year.

Wow! Whadda Scoop!

“He’s on the mend,” Gilbert’s friend said.

“But it’s too soon to say if he will ever be the same.”

Oh. But the Hey Hey stuff is true, right?

Somers, who has just finished filming his new series You’re Back in the Room for Channel 9, said he’s been in continuing talks with the network about how best to bring Hey Hey back to the small screen in 2016.

“I understand Russell is feeling much better,” Somers said.

“I’d love him to be part of Hey Hey when we do it. Molly (Meldrum) too, but that could prove more difficult.”

Wait, that’s it? “Continuing talks”? That could just be Somers whining “pleeeeeease let me do Hey Hey again” under the programming chief’s door. And considering what a massive fucking flop Hey Hey turned out to be last time it came back, we’re thinking he’d be lucky to get that far even if he wasn’t telling everyone his comeback would revolve around a crack team of medically knackered nostalgia cases.

But why let the facts – which are as follows: Daryl is the ONLY person talking about bringing Hey Hey back and he’s probably doing that talking to an empty room – get in the way of a good story? Even the usually reputable TV Tonight is flogging this particular dead horse, adding in this tidbit:

Meanwhile Jo Beth Taylor has been attracting new fans on TEN’s I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here.

Which is good news for Jo Beth, though considering she suddenly quit Hey Hey (and television in general) without warning in 1997 (when she, according to wikipedia, “failed to show for work”) and only played a minor part in the 2010 version, it’s hard to see how her current success strengthens the case for a Hey Hey revival.

The last revival in 2010 did not sustain solid ratings, but the show is not considered to be cheap.

Somers’ new hynopsis game show is due to air in April.

And finally we get to some actual useful information. The host of an upcoming hypnotism-based game show is trying to revive a failed television show that “did not sustain solid ratings” and is “not considered to be cheap”. Though they left out “put a blackface act to air in 2010” and “is built around a cast of men well past retirement age”.

We’ve often said the only real way to put a version of Hey Hey on the air that people would watch would be to put together a tell-all telemovie. And by “tell-all” we mean lift the lid on the whole stinking, drawn-out, bloated mess.

For one thing, maybe we could finally find out why the show went through so many female co-hosts in the 90s…

Shut DAFUQ Up

“We’re like Vice, but with a bigger ballsack.” “And we’re not taking it butt-style from Rupert Murdoch.” Those lines come around 45 seconds into the first episode of the ABC’s iView-only comedy DAFUQ?, and they pretty much sum up the entire show: it’s like Vice, but more annoying, and the “satirical” stabs are about as obvious as you can get.

Still, making fun of dickheads and posers is pretty much always going to be a winner with us; it worked for Nathan Barley a decade ago, and it worked (some of the time) for The Bondi Hipsters a few years back, so DAFUQ‘s approach of having a bunch of pretentious wankers blundering around trying to make sure whatever story they report on is all about them is not a bad place to start a comedy show.

As you’d expect, the first sketch is the strongest, as vapid “whatever” hipster chick Pandora travels to Syria to make sure the legacy of a decapitated French journalist lives on (by making her famous). Bad news though, as discovers her long-time rival is covering the same story. So she promptly tries to get her rival killed – and then tries to get herself murdered so she can be on the front cover of Time.

That’s actually one of the more complex sketches: the one after it, where douchey hipster Lee D tries to get off his chops on an ancient drug only to instead be pranked by his Aboriginal guide, is pretty much just one joke drawn out (though seeing him shove a burning twig down the eye of his dick is somewhat memorable). So the fifteen minute episodes certainly don’t hurt, as there’s not really enough going on here for a full half hour show.

Watching Australian comedy can often be a bit of a trade-off: in exchange for watching something that’s not as good as the best overseas stuff, you’re hoping for something that takes aim at the kind of topics overseas comedy isn’t going to touch. There isn’t a lot of that here – the very concept is making fun of an international show – but when trendoid weenis Rift talks about his debut Aussie hip-hop album “Great Barrier Grief” (YouTube comment: “This is the worst piece of shit I have heard in my life. I hope you die”), it’s hard not to laugh. Because Aussie hip-hop is pretty much universally shithouse, and Australian comedy is pretty much the only place where anyone’s going to be pointing that out.

Still, that’s not enough to make a great sketch. Musicians forced into a life of crime because of low Spotify royalties is the kind of so-so idea that really needs to go over the top to get laughs –  unfortunately for the front man of Eskimo Joe, dropping him into this sketch just isn’t enough. And too often with this show, the concepts for the sketches are where the laughs lie: reading a rundown of what’s in each episode will give you about 65% of the total comedy content.

DAFUQ? is pretty much firmly in the middle of the current crop of Aussie sketch comedy: decent ideas drawn out too long, sketches that start strong but don’t really build to a strong punchline (when there’s even a punchline at all) and performed by people who get the job done without creating especially memorable comedy characters. The secret to great sketch comedy isn’t coming up with that first idea – it’s coming up with three or four ideas after that. And going by this, they’ve still got a couple of ideas to go.

 

The Brothers Gonna Work It Out

Remember prank phone calls? A relic of the pre-caller ID era, they – in their “is your refrigerator running?” form – were the kind of prank comedy mostly performed by bored teens and idiots. Yes, some people managed to elevate them to something above the moronic norm (the “Red” calls, The Jerky Boys‘ early work), but that didn’t make the prank call a serious art form that anyone in their right mind would defend. Like all pranks, they walked a fine line between worthwhile comedy and mindless annoyance… which brings us to the work of Melbourne’s Jalal Brothers.

You’ve most likely seen one of the Jalals’ viral videos on your Facebook news feed. Grainy shots of night-time suburbia. Three men in Arab dress cruise slowly down the street in a 4WD. One lifts an AK-47 rifle and takes aim at a man and his young daughter using a payphone, causing them to flee. The sound of tinny gunshots echo through the car’s speakers.

The man bolts, leaving his terrified daughter in his wake. In earlier clips, a man in Arab dress and beard appears, toting a suspicious bag. He tosses it into donut shops, car windows, the open doors of a lift. He throws it over the door of a closed toilet cubicle. He throws it at basketballers, kids playing on wharves, tradies on a lunch break, at a man descending an escalator.

Then the Arab man runs. The result: animal fear. The tradie bounds into a lake, a basketballer flees in panic, kids plummet into the sea, drivers abandon their cars and run for their lives. And for the millions of us watching safely on our screens, it’s either darkly hilarious – or utterly thoughtless and cruel. How you respond is a good predictor of your age. The Jalals’ fans are overwhelmingly young – and their haters middle-aged or older.

So it’s a case of stuffy old farts versus “the kids”? Gee, we’re really going to miss Fairfax’s nuanced news coverage when they shut up shop in a year or two.

(We did laugh at “The result: animal fear”, but only because we read it in a Ted Maul voice.)

That said, it’s not difficult to understand why three youngsters who have no memory of the pre-9/11 world, and who have probably been the subject of a lifetime of racist abuse and stereotyping because of their Middle Eastern appearance, would find it funny to make videos of mock drive-by shootings, bombings, and other terrorist-style incidents.

While older, whiter Australians worry about the terrorists on their doorstep, younger, less white teenagers are finding a way to laugh at it. (Perhaps they’ve realised that the chances of actually being killed or injured by terrorism in Australia are so vanishingly low that ladders are more of a serious threat?)

As such, we find it hard to differentiate this urge/desire/whatever to make prank videos about terror-style incidents, from the way in which youngsters in the 1960’s, 1970’s and 1980’s shocked their parents by taking the piss out of the establishment (the church, politicians, the military), the prevailing social order of the day (heteronormativity, traditional gender roles), and the laws that tried to get them to stop it.

Famously, the editors of Oz Magazine went through two obscenity trials in two separate countries (one in 1964 in Australia and one in 1971 in the UK), both trying to shut them down. Now we see the Jalal Brothers being ordered to stop making their videos by the police, and facing a possible jail sentence.

From what we’ve seen of these videos, they’re hard to defend as comedy or art – which is where our prank call comparison finally makes sense. And unlike Oz magazine, there’s no real message behind what they’re up to, which makes them hard to defend as satire (unless you count “people are afraid of being shot in the street” as a satirical message). Which we guess leaves us with the right to free speech.

Part of the reason why this is such a big deal (well, it’s not really a big deal, but you know what we mean) is that Australia has next to no tradition of paying attention to young people unless they’re playing sport. Our arts scene, in general, is so small that anyone who does make it big tends to stick around for decades, blocking the path for those behind them. So Australian comedy, like the arts in general, tends to see anyone under 40 as “young”, so when the kinds of things actual teenagers find funny get wider attention it seems even more shocking because as a culture we’re not used to it.

Case in point: Julian Morrow says some of the videos made him wince. And fair enough too. For older generations, who remember 9/11 and are generally speaking scared of terrorism, they are shocking and hard to take.

Morrow argues, though, that you can defend these videos as satire even though they’re not making any obvious point, and that shutting down the Jalals is anti-free speech. Trouble is, the brothers haven’t been arrested for speaking; they’ve been arrested for possession of an illegal weapon, being a public nuisance and behaving offensively in a public space. None of which involve free speech. The whole free speech thing, and whether the videos they’ve made are acceptable or not, is the media’s angle and the public’s concern. The brothers are on trial for rather different reasons.

(Though yeah, we’re well aware that when society wants to shut someone up, it often finds a way that doesn’t involve attacking free speech directly – “behaving offensively in a public place” sounds like something that could be used to wipe out pretty much any outdoor prank-based comedy. And much as we weren’t fans of The Chaser’s pranks, they were the kind of comedy that most Australians would support.)

Whether or not the pranks were real or not doesn’t really matter to us either; if your comedy bit relies on seemingly pissing off or scaring real people to get laughs, it’s probably not going to be funny to us. Unless, of course, you’re pissing off someone with actual power in our society, and even then chances are they’re going to laugh along to show they’re “in on the joke” and whoops, you’ve accidentally improved the image of the person you were going after (which is what pretty much every Chaser show has done).

All we’re seeing in the case of the Jalals, is a couple of guys messing around and filming it, and people with no clue defending it because they say it’s satire or anti-free speech. Free speech we can run with, but here’s how Wikipedia defines satire – feel free to tell us how it relates to what the Jalals are doing.

Satire is a genre of literature, and sometimes graphic and performing arts, in which vices, follies, abuses, and shortcomings are held up to ridicule, ideally with the intent of shaming individuals, corporations, government or society itself, into improvement.

It’s The Movies That Got Small

Usually we don’t delve too deep into the glamourous world of Hollywood, but we happened to catch the latest cinematic appearance by Australia’s number one comedy export – that would be Rebel Wilson (well, Barry Humphries has pretty much retired and it’s not like anyone wants to see anything from Chris Lilley ever again) – and we came out of the cinema feeling like we’d seen something of a milestone.

While we’re hardly the world’s biggest Wilson fans, one thing we have had to grudgingly accept is that she’s (for the most part) been well used in her feature film appearances. She has a distinct comedic persona that can be effective when used in small doses: there’s a reason why Pitch Perfect was the film that cemented her Hollywood status. Just so long as every now and again you cut to Wilson doing her thing (saying something “shocking” while making a “deal with it” facial expression pretty much sums it up) she can be an effective laugh-getter.

But that’s a pretty limited role to play, which is what makes her current work in How To Be Single so interesting. On the surface she’s basically doing more of the same, only a little bit more of it: she’s the high-energy stranger who latches onto our newly single lead (Dakota Johnson) and gives her tips on how to party hard. Cue at least two scenes where Wilson wakes up, doesn’t remember where she is but is relieved to find she at least had sex the night before. Comedy gold!

Initially this seems to be more of the same laugh-getting cameo stuff from Wilson. But no: she gets actual scenes where she holds conversations. And she can’t do it. Oh sure, she can say the lines and hit her marks and whatever. But given actual scenes in which to expand upon her “high energy laugh-getter” persona – basically, to be a female version of someone like Chris Farley, someone who can keep the comedy energy level up during the non-joke lines – there’s nothing there.

It turns out – in this film at least, though there’s no real reason to suspect things would be any different anywhere else considering how one-note her career has been – that while Wilson certainly has a lot of things going for her comedy-wise, charisma is not one of them. Again, she’s funny in context, popping-up mid scene to deliver a zinger; when the camera focuses on her for more than a handful of seconds, her vaguely awkward “I kinda can’t believe I’m saying this but hey, deal with it!” affect freezes.

We’re not saying she can’t do other things as an actress; her painful (in more ways than one) “I’m being really sincere now and you should feel bad for treating me as a joke rather than a human being” act gets another workout here too. But for the most part there are two kind of movie comedians: people you laugh with and people you laugh at. Wilson’s persona is too basic to be someone we can laugh at for more than a few seconds at a time – she gets a laugh then you cut away. And How To Be Single shows that she’s lacking the spark required to be someone that we can laugh with.

(what that spark is, we don’t know. Her acting definitely has a stilted quality that makes it hard to relax watching her – she always seems to be trying, which isn’t a good look)

Wilson will be appearing next month in The Brothers Grimsby, Sasha Baron Cohen’s latest film and one that – if the trailers are to be believed – seems to be set in a far broader comedy world. Chances are she’ll be given less to do, and much firmer parameters to work in, so she may even get a few laughs.

Just don’t expect her to be taking on a leading role any time soon.

Bringing It Home

We shouldn’t have to rely on our ex-pats (or fair-chunk-of-the-year-ex-pats) to “nail it” satire-wise, but here’s a comedy song you’re probably more than familiar with by now, and boy does much-of-the-year London resident Tim Minchin “nail it”.

It’s not just the sentiment of Come Home (Cardinal Pell) that we like, it’s that this delivers on pretty much everything you’d want from a song that’s campaigning for something:

  • It’s catchy – you can sing along or clap along very easily
  • It’s an ear-worm – damn you, Minchin, it’s been stuck in our heads for days!
  • It’s clever, surprising and intriguing – you never quite know where the lyrics are going
  • It’s funny – which makes it and its message highly likely to be shared
  • It’s popular – and with it now heading for more than million views on YouTube it’s presumably making lots of money for the Send the Ballarat Survivors to Rome fund

All in all, a winner of a song. And even more impressive…

It was written in 1 day

recorded, filmed & mixed in 1 day

and edited & mastered in 1 day

Which makes us wonder a bit about our locally-based satirists, and where they’re going wrong. People say they’re nailing it, but are they?

Feel free to tell us how this made a contribution. Seriously, this is one of the bigger news stories of the moment, and one with a clear bad guy who deserves a kicking – c’mon, even if you think he’s 100% innocent, as the boss of the local branch at the time when some of his priests were molesting children he really does owe the victims of his organisation a face-to-face appearance – and yet the best The Weekly can do is few half-arsed gags about Pell having a drag name, a dodgy doctor, and how the older folks enjoy cruises and don’t get how to use Skype. More like Cardinal SMELL, amirite?

Oh, and that amazing final metaphor about how we should let him tell his story as this (uh, what “this”?) will be with him for the rest of his life. Yeah, that spoke truth to Catholic power. NAILED IT!!!!