In the wake of "Beavis and Butt-head Do America" unexpectedly ruling the box office, every TV-watching soul in the country is expected to join one of the two warring camps: Those convinced that Mike Judge and his parade of stick figures are gleefully corrupting Little America, and those who think the jazz bassist-turned-animator is merely holding up a slightly warped mirror to its everyday horrors. "King Of The Hill," Mike Judge's network debut, presents a strong argument for the latter.
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REVIEW
King of the Hill |
There is a substantial shift of focus, though: If Anderson of the old show was seen primarily through Beavis' eyes - with the MTV logo permanently imprinted on the retina - as a buffoon babbling incomprehensibly about his glory days, "King Of The Hill" actually sides with Hank. Mr. Hill, voiced by Judge, is a regular guy frantically grasping at his notions of men behaving like men in the world of "tofu dogs, designer underwear and Very Special Episodes." It's only natural, then, that the show's pilot would establish Hank's chief nemesis: '90s talk-show hypersensitivity.
In the first episode, the Hills are visited by a wispy-voiced social worker (a slightly more malevolent version of "B&B"'s spacey Van Driessen) who, through a series of coincidences, becomes convinced that Hank is beating his son. When the guest spins out a tirade to the effect of "I see that you have a lot of anger in you, and it seems that you are projecting it on me," it's Judge/Hill's delivery of the answer - "I haven't even BEGUN projecting my anger on you, twigboy" - that makes the exchange hysterical. It is also indicative of why we can latch on to Hank as our hero: his intrinsic ability to cut through the maze of PC-speak right back to the trademark Lone Star "don't-mess-with-me" stance and remain non-threatening throughout.
The second episode, which aired last Sunday, demonstrated that the show, like "The Simpsons" before it, can effortlessly shift our attention from one family member to another. Its plot hinged on Hank's wife, a substitute teacher, taking over a sex-ed class (with Hank's son in it), and the lady seemed to hold her own just fine - with the help of Kathy Najimi's line deliveries.
The only thing that can be said against "King Of The Hill" so far is that it seems to lack "B&B"'s absurdist catchiness. On the MTV show, a constant hook is provided by Beavis' teetering on the edge of dementia: everything from caffeine to a bad video can suddenly summon his alter ego, Cornholio, whose nasal utterances sound like Martian beat poetry. In "King Of The Hill," this hook could perhaps come from Dale, a next-door conspiracy nut. After all, "Beavis and Butt-head" took about a year to find its tone, evolving from the juvenile nastiness of "Frog Baseball" into the smart and self-reflexive satire of "Animation Sucks." Similarly, "King Of The Hill" may take turns in unpredictable directions (one promising hint is planted in the pilot - the Hills may get stuck with a teen-age female houseguest). The fact remains, however, that Mike Judge has an unerring, and sometimes unnerving, eye for lower-class America and about a thousand voices with which to back it up.
These are the beer-drinking men of "King of the Hill."
"King of the Hill" star Hank Hill poses on the riding mower with his family.