“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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