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 EDITOR'S NOTE: These reviews are based on the first two episodes of "The Norm Show" ("Norm and the Prototype" and "Norm dates a Client.")THE NORM SHOW: What they said ...
Norm Macdonald plays Norm Henderson, a goofy former
hockey player who bet on his own hockey games.
Caught and convicted, he's forced to do community
service as a social worker. (Though this sounds
vaguely like the Seinfeld plot about a guy forced to
become another man's butler, it's actually pretty
funny.) Helping him stay straight is Laurie Metcalf,
a counselor who cares about her clients, and Ian
Gomez, the colorful office personality (the '90s
version of the wacky neighbor). Here's the basic
scheme: See Norm screw up. See Norm pretend not to
care. See Norm do the right thing. It's your basic
sitcom brand kicked up a notch by Norm's deadpan
delivery and the right-on writing of creator Bruce
Helford (executive producer of The Drew Carey Show.
Just as sarcasm seems passe,
snarkster
Norm Macdonald launches his sitcom
Is sarcasm dead? I pose this question after watching the dispiriting pilot for The Norm Show, ex-SNLer Norm Macdonald's attempted sitcom. The once-savage "Weekend Update" wit skates through his role as a hockey player-turned-social worker, insulting his boss with icy one-liners like, "What the hell are you doing there, ass face?" Macdonald seems to have lost the will to quip; his affectless demeanor couldn't salvage the big-screen sinker "Dirty Work," and he doesn't seem ready for prime time, either.
While preserving his well-known obsessions with gay sex and the word "whore," "The Norm Show" strains to soften up Macdonald's persona by pairing him with a sunny coworker (played fruitlessly by "Roseanne" 's Laurie Metcalf) and even having him save an abused dog. Yet the I'm-better-than-this smirk on Macdonald's face undermines any possibility of a three-dimensional characterization. He can't just act -- he has to make his performance an ironic commentary on acting.
In a sense, Macdonald suffers from David Spade's disease. ... [article meanders through thoughts on David Spade and Craig Kilborn.]
Why does the smart-ass aesthetic personified by Macdonald, Spade and Kilborn suddenly seem so passe? I wish I could glibly blame it on Monicagate or the millennium, but it probably just died of old age. Don't feel sorry for sarcasm -- it had a good run, stretching back to Bill Murray's "SNL" heyday. Perhaps its passing explains why Murray's subtle work in "Rushmore" felt so right, while his recent smarmy "SNL" gig brought only a distant smile of nostalgic recognition.
Who knows, Macdonald could mature into as fine a film actor as Murray; Norm's talent runs deeper than his attitude, as his dead-on "SNL" impressions of Burt Reynolds and Bob Dole proved. Then again, "The Norm Show" 's simplistic snarkiness could turn it into this season's surprise hit. In which case I'll claim this whole column was meant to be sarcastic. -- Bruce Fretts
Norm Macdonald's show plays to his
strengths
Ottawa comedian injects his own offbeat personality
to raise The Norm Show above usual sitcom
standard
The Norm Show, premiering tonight at
9:30 on ABC, is appropriately named.
The sitcom's laughs belong exclusively to
Ottawa homeboy, Norm Macdonald, and
he alone is worth the price of admission.
After Macdonald was fired last year by an
NBC exec who just didn't get the
comedian's semiconscious delivery of
Saturday Night Live's Weekend Update,
and after his less than spectacular
dalliance in movies with last summer's
Dirty Work, Macdonald's career seemed
to be in a downward spiral.
Word that he had agreed to do a network
sitcom struck some of his fans as
ominous. If Macdonald was considered
too much of an acquired taste for
late-night TV, how could he expect to
survive without compromise in the heart
of prime time?
The Norm Show offers solid reassurance
that Macdonald's particular brand of
humour does have a place on TV beyond
guest spots on Letterman and Dennis
Miller Live.
Macdonald is playing a familiar character
in the series, the same disarmingly
dysfunctional and somewhat
self-absorbed schmo that he created for
the standup circuit and perfected on
Saturday Night Live. The character is
successful because it is a variation on
MacDonald's own offbeat personality,
and it works here because the show's
writers understand that.
In The Norm Show, Macdonald plays Norm Henderson, a former hockey player (yeah,
right) convicted of gambling and tax evasion. His sentence is five years of community
service as a social worker (yeah, right). Norm isn't much of a role model for his clients, nor
does he care to be.
This might be the perfect relationship, if it weren't for a boss (Bruce Jarchow) who actually
wants to see some material improvement in the lives of the people Norm works with. Under
pressure to perform, or be sent back to prison to complete his sentence, Norm is the kind of
guy who bribes his clients so they'll make it seem like he's doing a good job.
Norm is also the kind of guy who says things like, "I'm going to get a dog; I love the idea
of having a friend that I can lock up when I'm not using him."
Laurie Metcalfe, reprising --nuance for nuance -- her Roseanne role (she was Roseanne's
sister) as a scattered woman of failed relationships, costars as Norm's more committed
social work colleague. Ian Gomez appears as another ethically challenged social worker.
But it is Macdonald who raises the half-hour above the sitcom norm, so to speak.
At one point in tonight'sr, Norm's boss tell him, "I can't tell if you're joking, or just
stupid."
You couldn't find a better explanation for what it is about Norm Macdonald that makes
people laugh. The Norm Show is smart enough to play to that strength. -- Tony Atherton
Preposterous plot hobbles 'Norm'
One of the surprises on sitcom TV is the success of David Spade on ''Just Shoot Me.'' By tempering his abrasive
persona with self-ridicule, the snarky comic has made himself into a prime-time pet. Tonight at 9:30 on Ch. 5, Norm
Macdonald, another ''Saturday Night Live'' alum, tries to follow in Spade's footsteps, domesticating his smirky
sarcasm for a vehicle called ''The Norm Show.'' And he does manage to be an appealing sitcom presence, comfortably
dropping wisecracks and playing the dimply clown with the sort of shoulder-shrugging ease that only looks effortless.
The problem is, ''The Norm Show'' is a dud. The premise is crummy, the script is crummy, and the gags, which involve
making fun of the crazies who come to a social-work office, are worse than crummy. It's one of those sitcoms whose laugh
track is turned up extra loud, to convince you that there really are lots of laughs. Macdonald, who also produces the show, is
Norm Henderson, a hockey player who is given a choice: a jail term for gambling and tax evasion, or five years of community
service as a social worker. Naturally he chooses social work, but he could care less about society and its individuals, and he
walks through his job avoiding screw-ups that would land him in prison. The preposterousness is compounded by the fact
that his best friend is a moral, by-the-book co-worker played with tightly wound energy by Laurie Metcalf, from
''Roseanne.''
Based on the two episodes sent to critics, it looks like Norm will get himself into a pickle every week, and scramble not to get
fired. Tonight, he is told to rescue a client from her job at a massage parlor. When he only pretends to find her a better job,
uh-oh, he almost gets caught. Next week, he dates a woman who, uh-oh, turns out to be one of Laurie's clients. This formula
isn't helped by the writing, which at one point has Metcalf stupidly trying to talk and hold her nose when faced with a smelly
client. Maybe Norm will get tired of dealing with all the kooks and creeps, and choose that jail term after all. -- Matthew Gilbert
... Also arriving tonight on ABC is "The Norm Show," starring Norm Macdonald, much
funnier in this sleeper of a sitcom than he was as the smirky newsreader on NBC's
"Saturday Night Live," whose firing of him ultimately may have elevated his career by
making him TV's biggest comedy martyr of the '90s.
Macdonald plays a former pro hockey player sentenced to community service as a social
worker after his conviction for tax evasion. It's evident that social work is no easy fit for
him tonight when one of his clients trades her job at a pizza parlor for one at a massage
parlor.
His boss: "I can never tell if you're just joking or you're just stupid." Norm: "Well, I try
to mix it up, sir."
Macdonald's ability to do this without being stupid--his character is actually quite
smart--is key to this series, some of which is just a hoot, its humor perfectly tailored to its
star's offbeat sardonic style. He delivers here with a relaxed ease that contrasts vividly with
Laurie Metcalf as his gratingly hyperventilating colleague, who finds Norm's ways
mystifying. -- Howard Rosenberg
Deviating from 'Norm'
If you can imagine "Saturday Night Live" outcast Norm Macdonald as a social worker - even one doing community
service to stay out of jail - then you can probably swallow ABC's "The Norm Show," which taps that unlikely
premise to showcase Macdonald's talents.
That those talents seem mostly to consist of looking boyish and shouting the word "whore" now and then probably
won't deter True Fans, who consider Macdonald one of the comic geniuses of our time, right up there with the late
Chris Farley and those people who interrupt live call-in shows in praise of Howard Stern.
True Fans won't care that I didn't much like "The Norm Show," because they know I'm not young/smart/male
enough to understand him. (OK. I laughed twice. But I'm deeply ashamed.)
True Fans won't worry, as I do, about poor Laurie Metcalf ("Roseanne"), who may be just too nice for her own
good. Not only does she play a social worker on the show, but she apparently functions as one in real life, here
taking on the thankless task of trying to turn yet another comic into an actor.
TFs probably won't even be curious, as I am, about whether executive producer Bruce Helford, the guy who helped
turn the once-bitter Drew Carey into America's Sweetheart, can do the same for his caustic Canadian star.
Starting tonight, ABC finds out just how many True Fans there are. -- Ellen Gray
... But the Alphabet Network is
introducing more than just the tart,
smart repartee of a SoCal "Seinfeld."
Say howdy also to "The Norm
Show," featuring sarcastic Canadian
comic and "Saturday Night Live"
refugee Norm Macdonald, which
slides onto the airwaves at 9:30 p.m.
It's another dose of excitable guy
comedy from the makers of "The Drew Carey Show," which
serves as a simpatico funhouse lead-in to "The Norm Show."
The amiably snarky Macdonald plays Norm Henderson, a
misanthropic, beer-loving ex-professional hockey player. Norm
seems to have avoided prison time for tax fraud by agreeing to a
community service sentence as a social worker. Say what?!
That's right, social worker.
Because of his dark-edged, smart-aleck sensibility,
Macdonald's humor may be an acquired prime-time taste.
Especially when his shiftless, social working alter ego is
making fun of cute little puppies, sleeping with clients and
generally giving grief to humanity.
"I can never tell if you're joking or you're just stupid," says
Norm's fussbudget boss. Many viewers may have the same
reaction.
Fortunately for us, talented Laurie Metcalf ("Roseanne"),
always a comic blessing, gets back into the weekly series swing
as Macdonald's straight-arrow, by-the-book colleague. She's
the amusing Felix Unger to his rude attitude Oscar Madison.
And when they're clicking together, "The Norm Show" is a
minor hoot. -- Mike Duffy
Same ol' Norm
If you liked Macdonald on SNL, you'll love
his new sitcom
The reason The Norm Show is called The Norm Show is
simply because it is Norm's show.
There can be no mistaking Norm Macdonald's style.
Consequently, like Seinfeld and The Drew Carey Show before
him, Macdonald's sitcom is deeply based in his particular brand
of humour.
Throughout the series, premiering tonight at 10:30 p.m. on W,
Macdonald's acerbic and jibing wit laces every scene of what
appears on the surface to be a standard sitcom set-up.
Macdonald plays Norm Henderson, a washed-up hockey player
who attracts more interest from the IRS than the NHL these days.
Henderson is constantly reminded how he was disgraced for
betting on the game, tax evasion and a general lack of talent
during his career with the Oilers. (Didn't they trade him for Petr
Klima in '93?)
He is also constantly reminded how he had better do a good job
fulfilling his community service sentence or else one phone call
could put him in jail.
This poses a problem for Norm because as far as social workers
go, he's a helluva hockey player.
Watching Norm's back, though, is Laurie (Laurie Metcalf). The
former Roseanne cast member provides solid acting as an
altruistic social servant who may have found her toughest case in
Norm.
In the first episode, one of Norm's assignments, a former
hooker, has decided her job at the pizza parlour isn't as lucrative
as employment at a massage parlour.
Norm tries to reason with her by getting her to envision life as an
elderly prostitute.
"You don't want to take your teeth out 30 times a day," he says
with his trademark nonchalant delivery.
Some of these brasher jokes could be expected from a standup
whose act repeatedly refers to "crack whores" as a comedic
device.
Fitting of his lapses into low-brow taste then, the pilot episode
enlists the help of guest star Nikki Cox as his case assignment.
Cox is best known as the underage and underclothed sex symbol
on WB's Unhappily Ever After.
The Norm Show aspires to a (slightly) higher standard than that
tacky sitcom and The Norm Show generally keeps its wits and
wit about it.
Macdonald can be crude and edgy -- but he can also do droll and
facetious extremely well.
Chances are you have already found out whether you enjoy
Macdonald's routine or not during the three-plus seasons he
delivered "the fake news" on Saturday Night Live.
If you sided with Don Ohlmeyer, the NBC exec who canned
Macdonald, as one who did not appreciate the sardonic comic
from Ottawa, you likely won't enjoy The Norm Show. His fans
should be amply entertained, however.
He may even find a few new ones. -- Tyler McCleod
When Norm Macdonald was dismissed last year from
"Saturday Night Live" as the "Weekend Update" anchor, it
was reportedly because NBC honcho Don Ohlmeyer
simply didn't think he was funny -- though there was
speculation that Macdonald's constant, pointed jokes
about Ohlmeyer friend O.J. Simpson didn't help things.
Taste in humor is a very relative thing, though. On "SNL,"
I thought Macdonald was very funny, with a witheringly
sharp sense of humor and delivery. Yet on "Norm," his
ABC sitcom premiering Wednesday night at 9:30 ET, that
same sense of delivery wears thin very quickly.
"The Norm Show," written by Macdonald and Bruce
Helford and directed by Andy Cadiff, is constructed as
though assembled from some standard-issue sitcom kit,
with characters, settings and dynamics that are painfully
familiar: the goofy co-workers (including Laurie Metcalf
from "Roseanne," the one strong comic actor in the
bunch, and Ian Gomez), the mean boss (Bruce Jarchow),
the after-hours watering hole, even the little dog with
cute tricks.
Macdonald stars as the smart-aleck, self-absorbed central
character -- in this case, Norm Henderson, a bottom-rung
pro hockey player suspended from the game and
sentenced to community service as a social worker.
As the sitcom's central player, Macdonald isn't much of
an actor; he hits the same single note over and over, and
never persuasively inhabits his role. You could say the
same thing about Jerry Seinfeld or Drew Carey, though,
so that in itself is no cause for alarm.
The alarm bells, in this case, sound because "The Norm
Show" is so ordinary. In the pilot, Norm has to try to
persuade a beautiful young woman (played by guest star
Nikki Cox of WB's tacky "Unhappily Ever After") to quit her
job at a disreputable massage parlor. This, of course, allows lots of scenes featuring scantily
clad women -- a transparent ploy of the type Macdonald most likely would have ridiculed,
rather than propagated, during his "SNL" days.
Macdonald's delivery still is amusing, if repetitive, and some of the lines are clever in and
of themselves, but there's not one second of credible interaction between the characters.
Though I wanted to like "The Norm Show," neither the pilot, nor a future episode sent for
preview, won me over. Neither the character, nor the sitcom, is at all likeable.
But who knows? Maybe Ohlmeyer will like "The Norm Show" a lot. -- David Bianculli
MACDONALD SHOW BELOW NORM
PRESCRIPTION for "The Norm Show": Fire Norm Macdonald.
Beef up the dog roles.
Macdonald, who left "Saturday Night Live" under a rancorous
cloud, plays a tax cheat sentenced to five years as a social
worker in a show from Bruce Helford, the producer of "The Drew
Carey Show."
Macdonald is not the likeable, nimble screwball that Carey is,
but Helford and Macdonald seem unwilling to accept that.
Macdonald sounds like Carey, even punctuates his lines like
Carey might, while looking like "Carey" costar Diedrich Bader in
hair from "That '70s Show."
It doesn't work. Not even with the estimable Laurie Metcalf
pulling out all stops as a senior social worker who sees through
Norm but gets taken in by him anyway, because the folks in her
office are basically cynical and/or incompetent.
Metcalf's energy just comes across as desperation when she's
working with a man who has no inflection, no expression, and
no moves and brings nothing to would-be comedy except dead
weight.
In an upcoming episode, Norm is trying to get around the rules
prohibiting a social worker from having sex with a boobacious
client.
"It's not like we're psychiatrists or undertakers," he says, pretty
much summing up the level of humor to which "The Norm
Show" sinks like a rock.
Tonight, a curvy thing too young to be a stripper is hooking at a
massage parlor. Laurie tries to get the girl to think of the long
haul.
"There is nothing sadder than a 70-year-old prostitute," Laurie
says. "Except maybe her customers."
"Yeah," says Norm, "you don't wanna be taking your teeth out 20
or 30 times a day."
Tonight's episode starts with a laugh, with Norm spinning a little
dog that has mastered the trick of sitting stock still on a lazy
susan.
But that's as good as it gets until Norm gets a dachshund that's
been trained to go after dust bunnies and fake a heart attack -
which we think is just the dog's attempt to wriggle out of his
contract. -- Michele Greppi
"The Norm Show" -- where laughter is The Norm! At least, much of the time. One wishes this
ABC sitcom success partly because that would be a slap in the face of Don Ohlmeyer, the
arrogant and bullying NBC executive who last year ordered the show's star, Norm Macdonald,
fired as anchor of the "Weekend Update" segment on "Saturday Night Live."
Macdonald left the show and hilariously recounted the incident on "The Late Show With David
Letterman." Now he bounces back in "The Norm Show," his own sitcom, premiering at 9:30
tonight on Channel 7. It isn't great, but it certainly is consistent with the laconic personality of
its dry-witted star. Like "It's Like, You Know . . ." it's at least blessedly different from any
other series now in network prime time.
Macdonald has been uncomfortably shoehorned into the situation part of the situation comedy,
however. He plays a former hockey player, of all things, who was convicted of gambling and
tax evasion and is now six months into a five-year sentence of community service. If he screws
up his job as a social worker, it's off to the slammer ipso facto.
The main set, the office where Norm works, is a dreary and confining space that looks too
much like the offices on innumerable other workplace comedies. Laurie Metcalf, that very
talented veteran of the "Roseanne" show, plays Laurie, who is as professional and dedicated to
her social work job as Norm is ill-suited to his.
When he's assigned to the case of a curvaceous young woman who's taken a job at a massage
parlor against agency rules, for instance, Norm makes a token attempt to get her to quit and,
rebuffed, ambles over to the nearest bar and gets drunk. He has learned to accept defeat readily;
indeed, he has made defeatism into a kind of art form, or at least a lifestyle.
Repeatedly -- to judge from the pilot -- Laurie will come to his rescue and straighten out the
messes he's made. Why? That isn't made very clear except perhaps that she has soft spots in
her heart and head for this affable but incompetent nincompoop.
Macdonald has a comic delivery that sneaks up on you from behind, a distinctive and wry
approach that turns even dull dialogue into funny stuff. When his boss says to him, "I can
never tell if you're joking or you're just stupid," Norm smiles meekly and says, "Well, I try to
mix it up, sir." His not very subtle way of talking the young woman out of her massage parlor
job is to tell her, "Look, Taylor, I don't think you understand: You're a huge whore."
Taylor, not at all incidentally, is played by the visually gifted Nikki Cox. She's not just an
eyeful; she's two eyefuls at least.
Brazenly modest in concept and ambitions, "The Norm Show" is so slight it risks just sliding
off the screen. One obvious remedy for its problems is to get Norm out of that dingy office and
into some other line of work. But even with its impediments, "The Norm Show" is definitely
more enjoyably goofy than is -- here it comes again -- the norm. -- Tom Shales
... The same cannot be said of "The Norm Show," in which "Saturday Night Live" alumnus
Norm Macdonald plays Norm Henderson, a former professional hockey player with a
penchant for gambling and tax evasion.
Facing a jail term, Norm was instead sentenced to community service as a social worker.
(And you thought that field had special educational requirements?)
Norm is impatient and utterly undedicated, not to mention maddeningly dense and
unlikable, just like the series.
In the pilot -- whose comic highlight comes when Norm attaches a mop to his dachshund's
belly and puts the dog under the couch to hunt dust bunnies -- Norm reluctantly tries to get
one of his teenage clients to stop working at a massage parlor.
In episode two, the gang wrestles over how to get a foul-smelling fellow to shower, and
Norm beds a client. (His protest: "Why can't I have sex with a client? It's not like we're
psychiatrists or undertakers.")
Sadly mixed up in this mess is the wonderful Laurie Metcalf, who played Jackie on
"Roseanne." Here, she's Norm's by-the-book co-worker Laurie.
This pro tries mighty hard to entertain, but some projects just can't be salvaged. -- Virginia Roham
'Norm Show' is a cut below
As the anchor of the "fake news" on
Saturday Night Live, Norm Macdonald
used to stick a knife in celebrities and then
twist. It killed.
But that kind of cutting humor depends on
sharp writing, and Mr. Macdonald's new
instrument, The Norm Show, is a bit dull.
He still wears his trademark smirk, but the
smug one-liners around which the sitcom is
built miss their target more often than they land.
As his boss (Bruce Jarchow) at a social-service agency tells him
in the pilot episode, "I can never tell if you're joking or just
stupid."
"Well, I try to mix it up, sir," he replies.
Mr. Macdonald plays washed-up hockey player Norm
Henderson, who's been kicked out of the game and sentenced to
community service as a social worker. His record doesn't exactly
help his clients see him as a role model.
"Why should I listen to you?" one young thief asks.
His answer: "I may have gambled on the sport I was involved in
and then avoided paying taxes on that gambling, but you stole,
all right? You stole a . . . comb. Get outta here."
Laurie Metcalf, late of Roseanne, is the best thing about The
Norm Show, convincingly playing an excitable co-worker who
tries to get Norm to follow the rules. A third social worker (Ian
Gomez) in the office also gets victimized by Norm's goofy
pranks.
The pilot, airing Wednesday, with Norm finding a dog
who won't move from his sidewalk perch. Visual gags follow.
Nikki Cox (Unhappily Ever After) plays a client Norm has to
rescue from prostitution. Only in a sitcom.
A future episode sent to critics revolves around a client who
smells ridiculously bad and a woman Norm picks up in bar. She
also turns out to be a client, and dating clients is a clear violation
of the social workers handbook. Not surprisingly, Norm ignores
the credo.
There's a shower scene with the smelly guy, a public-sex scene
with the "va-va-voom" client and talk about the "Popeye-Olive
Oyl-Bluto Syndrome," which involves Norm potentially getting
beat up by her ex-boyfriend.
This is broad, silly, farcical stuff that will depend entirely on the
quality of the joke-writing from Mr. Macdonald and co-creator
Bruce Helford (The Drew Carey Show) week in, week out.
So far, The Norm Show is something akin to what Ms.
Metcalf's character says to Norm when he starts talking
nonsense: "You're an idiot!" -- Manuel Mendoza
All together now: Norm Macdonald had a show,
e-i-e-i-o, and on this show he had some twits, e-i-e-i-o;
with a lame joke here and a trite quip there” well,
you get the idea. In centering his first network sitcom,
the "Saturday Night Live" alum plays a fallen
professional hockey drone who has taken his
sophomoric act to the world of social work, because we
know how well wisecracks go over with the delinquent
and the less fortunate.
"The Norm Show" is one of those comedies where the
grown-ups suffer from arrested development -- their
maturity having ground to a halt at roughly age 12 -- and
everyone orbiting the lead character is consumed with that
distinctive emperor's-new-clothes brand of denial. Were
Macdonald's character Norm Henderson operating in the
real world, you'd simply tie a rock around one ankle and
dump him from the nearest cliff. Otherwise, you might
have to slap him every 10 seconds.
As the show, Henderson has been out of pro hockey
(presumably the NHL) for six months, having been booted
in shame. Seems the league frowns on its athletes gambling
and evading their taxes. So he was given a choice: Face a jail
term or pay his debt to society by pulling five years' worth
of community service as a social worker. Makes perfect
sense, doesn't it? Screw up, and then preside as an
authority figure over fellow screw-ups.
Norm is firmly ensconced as the office clown/rebel, a
lovable lummox with dimples and a thick mane of wavy
hair. He shares this space with Laurie ("Roseanne's" Laurie
Metcalf), a by-the-book worker who has slightly more
diplomacy than her life-challenged office mate. The closest
she's going to get to meeting Mr. Right is a night baking
with the Pillsbury Doughboy.
Rounding out the office is Norm's jittery pal and prime
defender Danny (Ian Gomez) and Mr. Curtis (Bruce
Jarchow), who would can Norm's butt if the guy didn't
present such an inviting target for venting hostility.
Numbingly silly premiere script co-penned by exec
producer Bruce Helford and Macdonald (who also has a
producer credit) charts Norm's handling of a curvy client
who quits her job at a pizza joint to work at a massage
parlor. Like all good social workers, he immediately hits on
the idea of becoming one of her customers. Gotta love the
'90s. Second seg continues to play up the lighter side of
social isolation and emotional distress, hitting on such
nuggets as client body odor, shyness and how a social
worker can boff a client in the building and still hang onto
his job.
Despite his penchant for cavalier oafishness, Macdonald
has a certain likability, a little-kid charm that meshes well
with his smooth timing, and a decent chemistry with
Metcalf. He has some funny moments in ther under
helmer Andy Cadiff's tutelage, but most of them involve a
motionless Yorkshire terrier. Might have been a better idea
to just call this "The Dog Show."
Tech credits are decent enough. -- Ray Richmond
'Norm' a comic public service
You either find Norm Macdonald funny or you don't.
If you don't, you probably think NBC was smart to dump him out of his Weekend Update
anchor chair at Saturday Night Live. If you do, you'll almost certainly think ABC was smart
to give him a sitcom that's precisely shaped to showcase his boyishly smirky comic style.
The star, however, isn't the only smart thing The
Norm Show has going for it. Wisely, the show
also reunites Macdonald with producer Bruce Helford
(both were writers on Roseanne), who proved with
The Drew Carey Show that he knows how to
harness a comedian's energy and rhythms to the
sitcom format. He also is re-teamed with Roseanne
Emmy winner Laurie Metcalf, who again provides
her signature brand of neurotic support.
For this promising spring sitcom, Macdonald is
Norm Henderson, a former professional hockey
player whose lackadaisical attitude toward life and
taxes has gotten him sentenced to a community
service stint as a social worker. (Don't ask what kind
of judge would sic Norm on an unsuspecting needy
public.)
Norm is aided by his best friend, Laurie (Metcalf),
and a somewhat warped co-worker (Drew Carey's Ian Gomez ), who try to protect him from
their malevolent boss (Bruce Jarchow).
As irresponsible as he is irreverent, Norm is not exactly your ideal social worker. In the pilot,
he pays a client to pretend she has quit her job at a massage parlor. In a later episode, he tries
to help a pathologically shy guy by introducing him to a woman at a bar ă only to sleep with
her himself, unaware she's one of Laurie's clients.
"Why can't I have sex with a client?" he says in his defense. "It's not like we're psychiatrists.
Or undertakers."
Like many other comics-turned-sitcom stars, Macdonald is more a personality than an actor.
He delivers the sometimes laugh-out-loud lines well, but he never registers anything much
deeper in response than wry bemusement.
His limitations as an actor are most noticeable in his scenes with Metcalf, who can be funny
even when the lines aren't (a talent that sometimes leads her to overcompensate). Still, there's
an oddly needy sweetness under Macdonald's surface self-satisfaction that keeps the character
appealing, plus an unwillingness to pander to an audience that keeps the comic admirable.
That insistence on saying what he thinks is funny, even when the audience disagrees, is what
got him fired from SNL and what limits his appeal.
Norm may not win over many doubters or convince NBC it made a mistake. But for those of
us who like Macdonald and have missed him, it's a smart TV choice. -- Robert Bianco
'The Norm Show': Adventures in Social Work
"You can't take my dog," insists a man who had left his dachshund at the pound but has now changed his mind.
"We're social workers, pal," replies Norm Henderson, who has adopted the dog. "We can take children."
It takes a brave comedy writer to pen that exchange (of course the National Association of Social Workers isn't thrilled with it), and that's a good sign for "The Norm Show," which has its premiere Wednesday on ABC.
Norm is played by Norm Macdonald, formerly of "Saturday Night Live," who is also one of the new show's writers and executive producers. The bad signs for the series are a strained gag early in the premiere about a dog who does nothing but sit and stare (Moose, who plays Eddie the Jack Russell terrier on "Frasier," could sue and win) and one of the most annoying, overinsistent laugh tracks in recent memory.
The track becomes less disturbing as the gags get funnier, and luckily they do. When Norm, a former professional hockey player now doing court-ordered community service in social work (oh, sure, that's realistic), first thinks about getting a dog, he explains, "I love the idea of having a friend that I can lock up when I'm not using him."
When it turns out that the teen-age boy he is counseling had only stolen a comb, Norm dismisses him with words of wisdom: "You come back when you stab somebody, all right, Billy?"
Laurie, a real social worker, is played by the fabulous Laurie Metcalf, who started with the Steppenwolf Theater Company and went on to win three Emmys for her role as the failure-prone but determined sister in "Roseanne." In the second episode of "The Norm Show," Ms. Metcalf manages to bring intelligence even to a story line about a male client who smells really bad because of his fear of physical contact with water.
"The Norm Show" could go either way, depending on the scripts ahead. At its best, it proves that jerky-guy characters and actual humor can coexist. -- Anita Gates
The Norm Show: edgy it might be, funny it's not
You can't take Norm Macdonald too seriously.
"All publicity is good publicity, as Hitler said," the Canadian comic quipped after being dismissed from Saturday Night Live, on the grounds that he wasn't funny. Giving offence is Macdonald's shtick, and an ironic detachment is his best defence against anyone uncool enough to accept him at face value.
But if we're not allowed to take Macdonald seriously, what's the alternative -- to laugh at him? On the evidence of The Norm Show (ABC, 9:30 p.m.), that would be a mistake.
The funniest joke in Macdonald's new sitcom is about elderly whores (a favourite Macdonaldism) whose biggest on-the-job problem is having to take their false teeth out 20 or 30 times a day. The funniest situation -- though to say so calls the word "funny" into question -- involves an immobile dog who can be spun around in a circle without flinching.
The dog seems to have modelled its acting style on Macdonald, the man who put the dead in deadpan. He lurches through the painfully long half-hour of The Norm Show with almost total impassivity, though veteran Macdonald-watchers say they can spot the telltale smirk that lets you know none of it's worth taking too seriously.
In this alleged sitcom, leveraged into the ABC lineup by the producers of The Drew Carey Show, Macdonald plays Norm Henderson, a former hockey player and presumed Canuck kicked out of the game for gambling and tax evasion. To avoid going to jail, he agrees to a sentence of five years in community service as a social worker. We can only hope he gets plenty of time off for good behaviour.
Macdonald himself once claimed to have played for the Ottawa 67s, and suckered in those of us naive enough to believe his words. Even by Hollywood standards of misrepresentation, that was a whopper. Yet it's nothing compared to the deceit that is The Norm Show.
Someone has successfully persuaded ABC (and the Canadian simulcaster CTV, which picks up the series next week) that Macdonald is a funny guy who can carry a series. Now, the TV industry being the sophisticated business it is, they probably didn't use the word "funny." The fitting description of Macdonald in smart circles is "edgy," which means that the very sight of him makes you feel uncomfortable. Edgy is what you call a guy who breaks the ice with Hitler jokes -- preferably at a Holocaust memorial service, but failing that, on a TV-industry publicity tour.
An edgy comic is one who stands out from the crowd, who's eager not to please, who won't be confused with Suddenly Susan and Veronica's Closet and all those other shows that no one will admit to watching. It's a good bet TV viewers will hate the sight of Norm Macdonald on their screens -- he's not warm and cuddly like Drew Carey.
But there's an outside chance, ABC is betting, that he'll break out of the pack and catch jaded viewers' attention with his unwinning ways. What are you going to watch instead? 60 Minutes II? The World's Most Amazing Videos?
Well, tune in tonight's pilot episode of The Norm Show, the one that won over the ABC execs, and what do you get? One of the world's less-amazing videos, which only seems to run for 60 minutes. The premise of the show is a joke, almost on a par with the one about the false teeth. While it would be a mistake to take anything associated with Norm Macdonald too seriously, what judge with any degree of credibility would allow him to help people as a social worker?
His idea of social work is to infiltrate a massage parlour with a shy colleague (awkwardly played by the usually dependable Laurie Metcalf) and pose as a couple interested in a group-sex encounter. When he's not finding ways to counsel all those bosomy babes in need of social services, he's a stock-type office cut-up, knocking down his pathetic co-workers (including Drew Carey's Ian Gomez) with unprovoked bursts of sarcasm.
"What the hell are you doing there, ass-face?" he mutters at his beleaguered boss in what is clearly meant to pass for an edgy witticism. It's a question all viewers of The Norm Show should be asking. -- John Allemang
Norm's back & crude as ever
Tonight, Oscar broadcaster ABC brings you somebody as crude
as Whoopi Goldberg but somewhat more amusing.
Turfed Saturday Night Live-r Norm Macdonald returns to TV
showcased in The Norm Show, premiering at 9:30. (CTV,
previously committed to figure skating, begins simulcasting the
show next week.)
Macdonald created the sitcom, which is about a white-collar
criminal doing social work in lieu of jail time, with Bruce
Helford, executive producer of its lead-in, The Drew Carey
Show. It's likely to appeal to the same youngish male audience.
Deadpan
That's a crowd familiar with Macdonald's comedy work, so his
excessive affection for the word "whore," gay sex references and
earthy, deadpan-delivered insults will come as no shock.
Others may be more surprised by the show's pedophilia joke, or
Norm's way of warning a woman that prostitution is no way to
spend her golden years. "You don't want to be taking your teeth
out 20, 30 times a day," he tells her.
A former Edmonton Oiler player banned for life from the NHL
and sentenced to five years of community service for tax evasion
and betting on hockey, Norm's used to getting by doing the least.
"I was a great hockey player. I was only a bad hockey player
compared to other professional hockey players," he explains to
his co-workers, Danny (Drew Carey's Ian Gomez) and Laurie
(Roseanne's Laurie Metcalf).
Applied to his new job, that approach means drinking on the job,
barely bothering with the troubled people he's assigned to assist
and calling his boss "ass-face."
"I can never tell if you're joking or just stupid," that boss
complains of him.
"I try to mix it up, sir," Norm replies.
The Norm Show does mix it up with some good writing.
When a man complains about Norm's habit of petnapping,
protesting, "You can't take my dog," Norm shoots back, "Oh
really? We're social workers. We can take children."
But Norm's boss had a point.
Misanthrope
Macdonald's trademark lack of emotionalism makes him a sort
of mystery misanthrope here. He can't act -- news flash -- and
he's decided to go with that.
That leaves those around him working overtime to fill in.
Metcalf, in particular, scurries about, overplaying the earnest,
slightly prissy Laurie and serving up large wincing reactions to
Norm's behaviour as if she's trying to provide energy enough for
everybody.
On the bright side, Helford's track record -- he worked on
Family Ties, Roseanne and Anything But Love as well as Drew
Carey -- persuades me this may find itself if given a bit of time.
Finding its star may prove harder. -- Claire Bickley
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