Reviews

I know I shouldn't expect too much from the Comedy Channel, whose forte doesn't lie so much in producing quality television as it does in buying it from America and the UK, but Comedy Slapdown just annoys the crap out of me. It frustrates me so much, because I do enjoy a lot of the comedians who frequent it (including Julia Morris, Julia Zemiro and Corinne Grant) and I actually really like the idea of an Australian Whose Line Is It Anyway?-inspired show. Unfortunately, Comedy Slapdown takes the Whose Line formula, rolls it in all sorts of ridiculous pomp and ceremony and stretches it out to an excruciating hour of predominantly rubbish.

Now, Whose Line demonstrates very well how a show doesn't need to be overly-hyped or complex to succeed: The main draw is the theatresports and that is where the focus lies. Not so with Comedy Slapdown, which is burdened by a ridiculous Wrestlemania set-up. The two teams of improvisers get pitted against one another in a wrestling ring, in a battle for a completely meaningless prize and the hand of the ever-grating Miss Wingding, some sort of trashy Thai prostitute whose only role, as far as I can see, is to make the celebrity guest incredibly uncomfortable with suggestive comments and who comprises the most useless portion of the entire show (which is really saying something).

Meanwhile, a tuxedo-clad HG Nelson plays the role of the overly-eager host. I've never had any problem with HG in the past - the few times I've seen him on GNW and other comedy shows, he's been quite entertaining - but in Comedy Slapdown he dives headfirst into annoying buffoon mode, leaping around the stage and cosying up alongside usually awkward-looking audience members for their take on the proceedings. He pumps up the introduction to each new game (I'm sorry, "round") with ridiculous fanfare, giving the impression of an attention-starved host who would really feel more comfortable on the performing stage (forgive me, "wrestling ring").

Despite the prize having no meaning at all, an exorbitant amount of time gets dedicated to the judging panel and the awarding of points. The panel itself consists of three members: The principle judge, a randomly-selected audience member and whatever D-grade celebrity guest the Comedy Channel has managed to snare in that particular week. The result is that at least a cumulative ten minutes of the show are wasted on utterly pointless waffle. Now, I know a lot of people complain about Tom Gleisner's comments between sketches on Thank God You're Here, but let's give him some credit - the man knows what he's talking about, doesn't tend to rabbit on and usually has some clever little scripted one-liners to throw in there. By contrast, the assessments of the Comedy Slapdown guest judges drag on interminably, although the content of their remarks is generally something along the lines of "I am voting for the blue team because they made me LOL."

Unfortunately, the judges' boring waffle isn't restricted to the panel, as the celebrity guest invariably ends up being dragged into the "ring" to take part in various games. Because when you've got a cast of six people who are funny for a living, what you really need is Molly Meldrum to get out there and let his comedic prowess shine. The awkwardness skyrockets while the funny plummets.

To top it off, the show's hour-long run-time (forty minutes minus commercials) makes it exhausting to watch, especially as, of the forty minutes of content, only around fifteen could be described as actual comedy. In other words, it's a half-hour show masquerading - poorly - as an hour-long spectacular.

I would love to see a show, like Whose Line or TGYH, that showcases Australian comedians and improvisers. Unfortunately, barring a dramatic overhaul of its entire format and some sorely-needed casting cuts, Comedy Slapdown is not going to be that show. Do yourself a favour: Give this one a miss.

In his 1940 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, Robert Z. Leonard provides the perfect blueprints for how NOT to make a Jane Austen movie.

Even the greatest actors of the time, Greer Garson and Laurence Olivier, were not able to salvage the atrocious script which butchers Austen's delightful prose, leaving only the barest bones of plot and characterisation beneath a shock of silly frills and lace. As a result, this witty, intelligent and deeply romantic novel is turned into a shallow, soppy love story that no lover of good writing can possibly appreciate.

The historically inaccurate costuming is enough to make one wince. Women flit around in ridiculous hooped skirts and frilly bonnets taken straight out of Gone With the Wind, as opposed to the simpler and more elegant Regency gowns that would have been worn at the time in which Pride and Prejudice is set.

The film's only comedic value is provided by the complete incompetence of its creators. If, like me, you enjoyed reading the novel, you'll be left in fits of laughter by an interpretation of Austen's classic that completely misses the mark.

If, on the other hand, you're looking for a more faithful and worthwhile adaptation, your time would be much better spent watching the 1995 BBC miniseries with Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth.

Fresh, intelligent, insightful and hysterically funny, Wonderfalls is a show you'll come back to time and again.

The series has oft been criticised as a cheap Joan of Arcadia carbon copy, but Wonderfalls is by far the superior of the two.

Whereas JoA has a painful tendency of falling into a soppy family drama -- tears and revelations and tight embraces and fluffy bunnies -- Wonderfalls is constantly slick and on top of it. It, too, has its share of emotional moments, but never dwells on the soap; rather, biting back with its trademark humour.

To give an example -- Jaye and Eric share a lovely moment standing at the top of the falls, where Jaye has the chance to scatter a deceased character's ashes (very cutely, in a souvenir barrel). It's a sweet moment, and as the barrel plummets into the foam, Jaye turns -- to find herself face-to-face with a cop, who promptly fines her $250 for littering.

Caroline Dhavernas is perfect for the starring role of Jaye Tyler, an underachiever whose expectation-free reputation belies her true intelligence. Jaye doesn't like people in general, revels in the role of the bitch, when suddenly she's forced to do good by the nagging of toy animals. In following these cryptic messages and helping others, Jaye herself begins to develop a warmer sense of compassion and a sharper understanding of those around her, while still retaining her delightfully badass attitude.

Dhavernas steals our hearts in a way Joan of Arcadia's Amber Tamblyn has never been able to manage.

It is sad that Wonderfalls -- by far the better of the two shows in every aspect -- was the one to get the axe, but at least we can console ourselves with the promised DVD release later this year/early 2005.