In Which The Author Sets Aside The Myth Of Sisyphus To Watch Mork And Mindy
A spinster aunt can have facets. There is no law, for example, prohibiting her from coming unglued over a pair of green and purple satin Prada pumps espied at Saks the other day. Neither has the edict been handed down from the rarefied aether of Spinster Aunt H.Q. putting the kibosh on an evening devoted entirely to the emission of hearty guffaws over a made-for-TV movie about the making of Mork and Mindy.
Which is a good thing, because, dude, this show had it all.
Although itâ€™s not as if TV biopics ever fail to give uniform satisfaction. A script can be nothing but hilarious when, through a bourgeois moral prosaism of which only network television could conceive, it seeks to confer epic nobility on some vacuous Hollywood celebrity. When that celebrity isnâ€™t even dead yet, the laffs count double! Bonus: the impersonations are always so screamingly weird they border on the sublime.
Although Kitsch is but the bastard red-headed stepchild of Truth and Beauty, four out of five aesthetes agree: there is no higher form of kitsch than the TV biopic.
This Mork and Mindy puff, though not, perhaps, as exquisitely awful as the one about the Osmonds we saw a while back, nevertheless has impersonations of Garry Marshall and Conrad Janis–you donâ€™t see that every day! And not only does it seek to elevate hairy freakazoid troll Robin Williams to epic stateliness, its moment of catharsis features one of my generationâ€™s most popular deaths, the Death of John Belushi, complete with gory photos! O how we chortle when Robin Williamsâ€™ wife tearfully severs diplomatic relations as Robin, drunk with fame, descends ever deeper into a sinister abyss of hubris and sex and blow! And best of all, the thing is crammed with priceless lines like â€œfame has a way of cutting you off from the things that made you what you areâ€!
It actually tries to bestow gravitas on a sitcom! O the humanity!
Some spinster aunts will watch anything.