"The Kids in the Hall: Death Comes to Town," an original scripted series of eight 30-minute episodes which premiered on IFC last month after a run in Canada, is a source of perpetually mixed feelings for fans of the original show. As I said last week, it's just hard to get past the fact that these are now "guys who look like melting, sadder versions of what we remember," but the troupe's longstanding mastery of the craft - coupled with a powerful dose of nostalgia - keeps us coming back, despite a campy, lackluster storyline.
Amid the investigative chaos of Mayor Bowman's murder, it's still anyone's guess who the real murderer is. Dusty Diamond, the completely hairless town coroner, attends to the scene of the murder and bags essentially the entire house as evidence. He can't bring himself to do an autopsy on Mayor Bowman, and instead steals his body from the mortuary and brings it home, where he sets up a very Weekend At Bernie's style cocktail hour. It's homoerotic necrophilia at its finest.
The victim's oblivious alcoholic wife Marilyn was named Mayor after her husband's demise, thanks to a televised "reading" of the will (in which Bowman silently reads his will to himself), and makes several poorly-judged comments to implicate herself in the murder.
Action News anchor Corrinda is awoken by her producer, Levon, from a drunken one-night stand with Shaye, her cameraman. Heather Weather's on site and eager to replace Corrinda, which causes obvious, slappy friction between the two. Corrinda's got morning sickness, puking on camera before her location reporting, and after Heather connivingly breaks the news to Shaye that Corrinda's pregnant, she proceeds to drop heavy hints that she'd be down for a little horizontal mambo as well. Vindictive much?
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Petty criminal and germ gel addict Crim Hollingsworth, who happens to be 1/16 Native, is arrested after he is found passed out in his chip truck at the crime scene, covered in the victim's blood - though he has no memory of committing the crime. The juror selection scene for his trial is nothing short of classic, featuring an array of ridiculous characters that nobody would want deciding their fate (chicken lady!!). Bruce McCulloch's skeezy big-city prosecutor douche is a great fourth-episode addition to the lineup.
Meanwhile, Death finds himself lacking meaning in life, and in his reflection on why he's stuck in Shuckton tells the tale: many years ago, a night of partying made him sleep late, resulting in the missed collection of an aborted baby's soul. He finds himself at Mayor Bowman's funeral, where he finds that Bowman's adopted son, Rampop, can communicate with him telepathically.
Ricky, determined to no longer be hindered by his morbid obesity, begins own his investigation into Bowman's murder - from his couch, of course. While reviewing the funeral footage for suspects, he notices Death in a still shot for the first time - and when his image comes to life on the screen and insults him, blowing out the TV, it's genuinely a creepy-ass moment. Three cheers for him for getting off the couch to get the mail, despite being unable to actually bend over and pick it up. And wouldn't you know it... in the mail is a summons for jury duty.
A few more points:
McCullogh & McKinney's cop partners routine from the original series gets a spinned rebirth, and it's just enough to pull us back to the ridiculous moments that made us love these guys in the first place.
Rampop's pretty damn good with a rifle - a scary thought, given that the kid sees people as animated butterflies and is clearly out of his giddy little mind.
Ah yes, there's also a drifter who looks just like Satan & has a weakness for redheads and watering holes. He's not likely the murderer, but what the hell he's doing in town four episodes deep is a complete mystery.
There are no plans to extend the series beyond the original 8 episodes, and all the Kids have individually noted that they have no plans to return to the studio to reprise their infamous roles. Maybe that's for the best, as this most recent series outlines the marginal audience these guys' comedy truly speaks to. Some will love it, many will hate it, but most simply won't ever care one way or the other.
I'll continue watching over the next few weeks while the 8-part series runs its course, and not just because I'm being paid to; These guys are masters of their craft, and while their humor may be firmly rooted in pre-internet Canadian quirk, the show has an air of odd magnetism to it, unlike the standard fare of cookie-cutter situation comedy and high-profile commercial filler. That alone is worth tuning in.
