Well, it's that time of year again folks, that special part of the season when the wind grows chill, the birds head south, and mother nature generally tries to kill off any and every living thing not suited for the hash, cold weather. It's a magical time of the year, a blemish upon the other 9 months of summer, when soaring temperatures in East Texas dip into the almost frigid mid-70's, sky rocketing air-conditioning bills become poverty inducing heating costs, and the elderly opt for death from winter exposure over heatstroke as their primary source of termination. Yes, the fall season is upon us meandering gastropods once more, and as much as you or I would like to whittle away our few precious hours pursuing other avenues of interests such as carpentry or learning how to tap dance, none here deny the awesome power and beaconing glow that emanates from that instrument of idle time destruction we call television. Television or T.V. (as the Amish call it) is the proverbial dealer to America's ADD! It commandeers our every fleeting moment between slumber and consciousness with titillating sitcoms and sensual "Lifetime" movies, that not only enslave and enflame the pleasure centers of our senses, but make other avenues into entertainment such as reading or exercise seem hollow and tainted in comparison.

So now the New Fall Lineup is here for us to view, peruse, and basically abuse, and just as so many of us Americans were finally kicking our 28-hour-a-week habit, and going cold turkey with all the rerun fraught that summer had brought. But OH NO, the Network Execs are not letting us off the hook that easily-We're addicts, people, T.V. junkies and the Networks are our back-alley dealers. They know that there has been a monkey too long off our collective backs. A damnable little primate that season after season somehow manages to warp out tiny intellects. No matter how much even the strongest among us, may perceive the television as nothing more than a hefty bag of "Mr. Ed's" quarter horse fertilizer for couch potatoes, none have yet to turn away from the sweet and soothing siren call of the sideshow barker we call the 'Boob Tube'. So, how do you know if you are a full-blown addict?

Have you ever comforted a lover by comparing their trials and tribulations to those of a fictitious character on T.V.? Ever ignored a phone call from a friend or loved one who was in desperate need, only to listen halfheartedly, as the frantic caller left behind a frightened message on your answering machine, telling your automated aggravation barrier that they were stranded along some "Deliverance" like country road with a man dressed as Marlene Dietrich squatting on their car hood and brandishing a John Deer 'all-weather' chainsaw in one hand and a banjo in the other? As a child, did you ever contemplate, consider, fantasize about becoming a highway patrolman, with a cool pair of shades, a sleek set of tan-leather riding gloves, and a rolled up knee sock stuffed down the front of your pants…well, not the sock thing, but did you? Have you, in this lifetime, ever risked your job, your livelihood, your means for procuring cash, just because you waited to watch an episode of a yesteryear 60's program that you've already seen countless times, instead of heading off to work at the appropriate hour? Have you, upon entering a room to perform some meager and minute little task, ever turned on the T.V., even though in your head, heart, and groin you know that you'll only be in that particular spot for less than 2 minutes?

If you answered 'yes' to any one of those gut wrenching questions, than you are what we in the imaginary medical profession call an addict, and an addiction is not just another pretty sounding word (although, if my George Lucas Home Cloning Kit does arrive in the mail today, I'm fully prepared to create little Strangeloves, with the first being christened Diphtheria Addicticus Von Strangelove…that's my boy!)…uh…where was I…oh yeah, let's dissect the word Addiction, so that those of you at home can really appreciate the…number of consonance and vowels entangled within this most infamous of nouns!

Ad-dic-tion: noun (Discovered, Iceland, 1599 by Darius Lessees Von Krakhore) · Ad-being in the state of addition/opposite of subtraction/cousin to multiplication.
· dic-short for Richard
· tion-to avoid deliberately and especially habitually

Television is an addiction that lures us in with a baited hook of neon lies and titillating deceptions, but like a mutated trout swimming in Lake Michigan, all we can see before being reeled into the Neilson Ratings boat, is the gentle aquatic dance of some delicious "Must-See-T.V." worm. Which brings me to this month's review of Danny DeVito's newest foray into films, "Death To Smoochy", a charming little romp, if ever there was one, into the bizarre and psychotic world of…children's programming. I know what you're thinking (…or at least the voices in my head tell me I do), "What does some film, that lasted one whole week at the box office & grossed well over $500, have to do with American's addiction to television and children's programming?" Consider for just a spell, if the majority of America reacts like a herd of Pavlovian dogs to NBC's or ABC's Milkbone programming, what effect does that have upon those persons providing the addictive materials for consumption? Well, to put it to you succinctly, in all my years of abusing addictive substances (I remember once, back in '56, when I checked myself into the Betty Ford Clinic, because I developed an addiction to the sweaty smells my wristwatch left on my arm…I'm a sick man), never once have I met a dealer with low self-esteem. In fact, they all seem to suffer from an acute form of 'God Complex', and we're not talking some benevolent god like Loki or the kind of god that posses little girls and make them spew pea soup…these folks are real nasty.

"Death To Smoochy" is a hilarious study into this topsy-turvy world of children's programming, where those who provide for America's television addiction soon find themselves equally addicted to the fame and glamour often attributed to that of being on television…so, let the merriment and mirth commence!

And boy-howdy, what a charming little romp into the bizarre this was, let me tell ya! Unfortunately, "Death to Smoochy" garnered only meager success at the box office, with most audience members finding the film to dark and bleak, especially in Robin Williams' portrayal of fallen kid's show icon Rainbow Randolph. Perhaps a movie about the attempted murder of a lovable, singing fuchsia rhinoceros might has faired much better financially and critically, if it had been shown 10 years ago, during the iniquitous reign of "Barney the Dinosaur". I would argue that a picture like "Death to Smoochy" benefits from the differences in years…that's to say, had DeVito premiered his film at the height of the anti-Barney era (the carefree 90's), most moviegoers would have been disappointed with DeVito's depiction of corporate television corrupting our children, as apposed to placing total blame on (thus, justifying our hatred of) the stuffed marionette figurehead singing on screen.

"I've never owned a gun, I don't believe in them." "When we were kids, whenever my brothers and I played cowboys and Indians, I was always the Chinese railroad worker."-Sheldon Mopes

"Death to Smoochy" tells the woeful tale of one 'Rainbow' Randolph Smiley (Robin Williams), beloved host of a popular daytime children's variety show, and perverted scumbag. After being arrested on chargers of fraud (parents give Randolph cash gifts, so that their children can sit in his lap, but it's not really service with a smile…this man's down right rude), Randolph is fired, kicked out of the corporate apartment, and publicly crucified. Tired of scandals and deadbeats, Corporate President M. Frank Stokes (played beautifully by "Daily Show" host Jon Stewart) and network executive Nora Wells (Catherine Keener) scramble to find a suitable replacement that meets the 'KidNet' studio head's strict "new" guidelines for a squeaky-clean host. Apparently in the medium of children's programming, most kid's show hosts are either drug addicts, sex fiends, or total lushes…that explains Captain Kangaroo. After a quick run down of popular candidates-those not currently in rehab or facing multiple battery charges, the pair decide upon methadone clinic singing sensation, Sheldon Mopes (Edward Norton). Mopes, a singer/song-writer who dresses as a purple rhino and entertains heroin addicts (imagine the song "She'll Be Coming Around The Mountain" but with the lyrics changed to "You'll Be Getting Off That Smack"…I'm not making this stuff up), jumps at the opportunity to appear on television, and instigate some of his fervent ideas for the betterment of all children. "Smoochy" is a smash hit with the kids, but as his star begins to rise, Sheldon fears that networks execs are only interested in the ratings, and not child welfare. Enter Burke Bennett (Danny DeVito), agent to the stars and professional snake. Bennett is partners with children's charity spokesman Merv Green (Harvey Fierstein, in all his raspy glory). The two collaborate on a scheme to use Mopes' ever growing popularity as a means to create a charity ice-capade, so that they can garner the profits from the concession stands. Problem is, while Smoochy may be making huge headway within the fickle kid's T.V. market, Sheldon can't make a dent in network exec Well's cynicism of his sincerity towards assisting in children's causes. That's when 'Rainbow' Randolph reenters the picture, and cooks up a wicked plot to humiliate the network, and send Mopes' "Hideous Demon-Son of Barney" rhino flying out the door. Zaniness and hilarity soon ensues and by the conclusion, you will see and agree why "Death To Smoochy" has attained that lofty position of "Pure Comedy Gold"!

"He's a pillow biter, you know? The old…"-Rainbow Randolph

"Oh, well I wouldn't know about his sleeping disorders, or anything like that"-Sheldon Mopes

Normally this is where I'd compare the film to a time in my life…and come to think of it, "Death To Smoochy" does remind me of the summer of '78, when Ira Levin and I got part-time jobs working at the local McDonalds down in Culver City, across from the Safeway. Well, Ira had sent off for this Lithuanian mail-order prostitute, but the problem was, Ira didn't speak or read Lithuanian. So when UPS pulls up outside our apartment, and wheels over this huge crate to the front door, Ira crowbars in open, expecting some hot looking, and more than likely very hungry, Lithuanian 'woman-of-the-night'. What he gets is a Lithuanian male-order-protestant! So after the mix-up is resolved and feathers are unruffled, life returns to normal, except a few days, Ira gets this nasty little rash on his right inner thigh (presumably from the Lithuanian protestant), which he has to keep dry at all times. That's a where the dilemma starts, because Ira's job at McDonalds is dressing up as Mayor McChesse (I was Grimace), and even though we were in California, the temperatures inside that suit can get pretty sweltering…you know what, that's a story for another day, and this article is already late enough as it is. I'll tell the Ira Levin/Lithuanian protestant tale some other time. Promise.

"Didn't she tell you of the love we once had?"-Randolph

"I had firmer handshakes, ya drunk!"-Nora

"Please! It's small, but it's fierce!"-Randolph

"Death to Smoochy" was a must have item in my library, after the Ground Zero Film & Music Society previewed the movie several weeks ago. While the laughs are certainly there, with much of the humor playing upon audiences love of see Robin Williams at his lowest, I found parts of the DVD lacking. The disc does offer a commentary track by DeVito and Director of Photography Anastas Michos, which is fine if I were interested in listening to a person talk about lighting different scenes for two hours, but I'm not. In my opinion, they missed the perfect opportunity to give fans a double treat-a great comedy DVD with commentary by legendary improvisation master Robin Williams! Could you imagine Robin Williams unleashed, and allowed to spout his particular brand of hilarity for almost two hours? Better yet, have Williams and Edward Norton do the commentary…I know, I know, they're both very busy men, but a girl can dream can't he (I only mention Williams and Norton doing a commentary track together, because the DVD features and 'Easter Egg' with 2-3 minutes of the two in a bloopers scene, with both stars trying to make the other laugh…this alone is worth the price of the DVD)? Even if the commentary track is not great (and few are), this disc is loaded with trailers, deleted scenes (the best features a Japanese kid's show replacement for Smoochy, after Norton is fired for playing at a Nazi rally…just watch the movie), and a separate bloopers reel made into a short montage of goofs and blunders put to music.

"Death to Smoochy"-still in the player with no end in sight.

By the way, if you watch or have watched "Smoochy" and enjoyed Robin Williams' performance and the film's humor, then check out the 1983 film "The Survivors"-starring Walter Matthau & Williams. The laughs are not as quick, but Williams has some great lines, Matthau is superb, and hey, it has Jerry Reed…the Jerry Reed!

Enjoy,
V. Lucretius Von Strangelove, PhD.

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are copyright 2002 Warner Brothers Pictures

Previously on Talking to that Venomous Fishwife:
DVD Reviews by Dr. Strangelove

All information on this page is intended for satrical (or review) purposes only. Please, don't sue us.
Really.
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