If a machine were one day created (perhaps in the manner of a whacky contraption from the Douglas Adams universe) that could somehow solve Australia’s greatest mysteries, imagine the possibilities. Harold Holt’s final whereabouts revealed; current location of Yahoo Serious verified; motivation behind Tony Abbott’s raw onion-munching ascertained.
No such contraption however will ever be powerful enough to answer the nation’s latest, greatest noodle scratcher: why on earth Josh Lawson was cast as Paul Hogan in Hoges, which started Sunday night on Channel Seven.
At the heart of the network’s two-part miniseries about the life of Australia’s beloved knife-comparing, shrimp-barbecuing entertainer is this thoroughly weird and tripped-out decision from the casting couch. The question of why, why, why hangs over every scene like a giant cartoon question mark.
The folly begins with Lawson bearing virtually no physical resemblance whatsoever to the person he was hired to play (one imagines Joel Jackson or Simon Lyndon making superior choices). The actor then took on the challenge of distracting viewers from the conspicuous presence of a sandy-coloured, roadkill-looking hairpiece pasted to his scalp – an objective about as achievable as trying to run away from your own feet.
It is not a prerequisite for actors to look like real-life people in order to be cast as them. But as one wag on Twitter put it: “Josh Lawson playing Paul Hogan looks like it’s straight out of a 1990s Full Frontal comedy sketch.”
Hoges is the latest in a recent slew of locally produced bio-miniseries including Hawke, Brock and Paper Giants: The Birth of Cleo. They are the new black in Australian TV. More are in the pipelines, including one about Olivia Newton John and another about Shane Warne. You just know someone is out there right now trying to get “Farnsy” across the line.
Among the best of the bunch so far was the nostalgia-dipped story of a local TV personality: last year’s Molly. The Aacta-winning show was steered by a mesmerising, shape-shifting performance from Samuel Johnson as Molly Meldrum.
Both Hoges and Molly were directed by Kevin Carlin. Years ago the film-maker worked on a show that would have made a perfect stomping ground for Lawson’s surreal Ken doll-like presence and blond wig: the popular sketch comedy program Fast Forward. Alas, this is not Fast Forward.
Hoges (the first episode of which constitutes this review) begins with the titular character addressing a live television studio audience, making some jokes about how he’s so successful. A blonde model in a tan-coloured bikini, who he introduces as his butler, struts up and takes a ridiculously ornate robe off him.
Hogan stares at her behind as she walks off stage; somebody wolf whistles. The protagonist then turns to the crowd and ... here comes the zinger: “Geez, the price of fame viewers.” For some reason the audience cack themselves. They start chanting “Hoges! Hoges! Hoges! Hoges!”
The joke, if you can call it that, bombs badly the first time – though this doesn’t stop Carlin and his writers (Marieke Hardy and Keith Thompson) repeating it almost instantly. The next scene flashes forwards and, again in front of an audience, Hoges and the crowd watch a clip from Crocodile Dundee of swimsuit-clad co-star Linda Kozlowski bending over. Repeats Hoges: “Yyyessss, the price of fame viewers.”
You could say this vapid, laughless opener is a reminder that what was funny back in the time of peak Hoges is not necessarily funny now. Maybe that is true. It is also a reminder that the reason why Paul Hogan’s comedy hasn’t dated well is because (generally speaking) it was never very good to begin with.
Consider one of several examples of clanger-comedy from Crocodile Dundee, the biggest jewel in Hogan’s comedy crown. At one point the titular character takes a moment to contemplate Indigenous land rights. “Aborigines don’t own the land, they belong to it. It’s like their mother,” he says. The suddenly political croc wrestler goes on to compare Indigenous people “arguing over rocks” to two fleas “arguing over who owns a dog”.
I dare say that joke – again, if you can call it that – was just as terrible back then as it is today. And there’s more where that came from.
Curiously, Hogan’s real-life story (from humble rigger on the Sydney Harbour Bridge to entertainment industry sensation) comes with an ingrained message taking a swipe at down-the-nose critics. The comedian got his big break (this scene is illustrated in the show) when he swindled his way on to an amateur talent program, in order to accost the judges whose treatment of contestants offended him. With the cameras recording live he sidled up to their panel and made fun of each of them. Classy stuff, like weight and height jokes.
Hoges rehashes the subject’s badly aged, mostly-bad-to-begin-with comedy for purposes that extend little further than the impact of the joke itself. Rather than, say, the context around it, or what it means for his character. Or God forbid why anybody found this stuff funny in the first place.
Ryan Corr is a stable and even charismatic presence (count the days before he jets off to Hollywood and leaves us – touch wood) as Hogan’s manager John Cornell, though the part is underwritten. Justine Clarke is impressive as Hogan’s wife Noelene, providing a flicker of the gravitas here and there.
But Lawson and that blond mop derail everything. The actor seems to have interpreted Hogan as a person who – even when far from a stage or camera, including when he’s engaged in serious domestic moments with his wife – always behaved as if he were performing to an audience. There were several scenes when I was half expecting Lawson to wink at the camera, and one when he actually did.
His performance plays like it was modelled off Dundee rather than Hogan: a parody of a parody. Or perhaps there are deeper levels of inception: Josh Lawson playing Mick Dundee’s impersonation of Paul Hogan playing Mick Dundee. It’s a bit hard to believe, however, that anybody was thinking meta-textually. Or – certainly in terms of casting decisions – that anybody was thinking at all.
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