David Kronke was appointed Mayor of Television after a bloodless coup in 2000. Since then, he has improved infrastructure, championed greater educational opportunities and fought for reforms that have utterly erased corruption and incompetence from the television industry. Since Mr. Kronke has ascended to power, Television is a far better place. "Wonder" shows 'em 2: The Quickening
I've probably already thrown too much attention to the DVD release of season two of "Wonder Showzen," MTV2's extravagantly subversive series that, were all right in the world, would likely not exist. But one additional bit (beyond the aforementioned one that kills off tough-guy "Dave Kronk(e)" for a snicker) in particular merits comment, as it purports to examine Television's use of test screenings.
In it, a foam-puppet character named "Middle America" creates a "Hee-Haw"-style show called "Horse Apples" ("Mr. Show's" David Cross is a cast member), which runs every ugly cliche about the Deep South deep into the ground (when informed that whites may soon be a minority in America, one character wonders, “How’m I gonna pull myself from behind my truck?"). Follow that with a "Beat Kids" segment (children play investigative reporters) in which a cheeky kid named Trevor watches a focus group watch "Horse Apples." They like it; they really, really like it. Afterwards, Trevor asks one of the participants, "Do you think today you helped in some small way to murder culture?"; he responds, "Yeah, maybe. Maybe a little bit."
A jaw-dropping extra features the same folks who gave the thumbs-up to "Horse Apples" being reunited to watch the episode of "Wonder Showzen" on which they appeared. (Virtually every "Wonder Showzen" man-on-the-street interview involves folks who are clueless, humorless and/or angry; one wonders if this is a reflection of the producers' gleefully misanthropic world view or if they really are preternaturally incapable of locating rational individuals.) They absorb the entire production in slack-jawed silence. "These guys look like they’re watching their own colonoscopy," notes Trevor, who editing suggests is being fed lines.
Asked for their responses afterwards, there's a horrible awkward silence. "I thought we looked pretty stupid," one finally replies. Afterwards, the guy who copped to murdering culture proclaims, "I feel myu-nipulated," though he doesn't look too upset about it. Another participant realizes he's been punked and is pretty hacked off. Yet another still doesn't get it, allowing young Trevor to hammer away at him: "What’s the most important thing about your mind?" he asks; the guy responds, "Makes you think a lot." Asked what's on his mind, the guy, struggling, comes up with, variously: "Where you’re driving, what you’re gonna do when you get to work, when you gonna sleep, when you gonna wake up, when you gonna take the dog out, when you gonna take the garbage out, when you gonna leave, when you gonna get there. Walking out the door, going in the elevator, walking down the stairs."
This guy turns up in one of the most bewildering "bonus" extras any DVD has ever offered, in a staring contest with you, the viewer. The cast of “Horse Apples� returns for an entire future episode, one of the most intentionally agonizing things you'll ever have to sit through (memo to "Wonder Showzen's" DVD manufacturers: No need to distribute this to "Middle America"), as well as in yet another of the most bewildering "bonus" extras any DVD has ever offered.
Hence, the question: Is "Wonder Showzen" the meanest, creepiest show ever, merely reflective of a very schizophrenic period in our culture or some combination thereof? We report; you decide.