The real-life traveling soap opera that is Roseanne and Tom Arnold stopped Saturday at Pheasant Run`s MegaCenter for a show that was long on attitude but amazingly short on laughs.
”I`m really p—ed off,” Roseanne announced at the beginning of the night and proceeded to carp in her signature nasal twang about the things that bug her: abortion foes, her ex-husband, President Bush and, well, life in general.
And though the ensuing crudities and rough language were to be expected, the lack of any semblance of wit at her nearly sold-out show was not. This humor aimed to be low brow but struck a couple of feet lower; Roseanne showed no interest in covering any new ground as a standup comedian.
She has had more than her share of tabloid headlines since marrying Arnold two years ago and last fall`s public allegations against her parents of psychological and physical abuse.
It was no surprise, then, that she devoted a large part of her one-hour show to the subject of dysfunctional families. After describing a typical dinner-time scene from her childhood that seemed to come straight from Dante`s ”Inferno,” she asked, ”Why do mothers think that as long as you all sit down and have supper together you`re the Waltons, no matter how horrible the rest is?”
Although she has lost a reported 70 pounds and looked nearly svelte, Roseanne groused about how hard it is to find clothes if you`re fat. She talked about an encounter with a haughty tall woman at a big-and-tall clothing store: ”Hey, I can lose weight, but the best you can hope for is amputation.” It was one of the few good lines of the night.
She spoke about the shallowness of Hollywood, the problems of fame and-shades of Dan Quayle-took a shot at ”Murphy Brown.”
”I never got (an) Emmy Award,” she said, adding that what angers her most is people ”saying that Candice Bergen is funnier than me. Are you
(kidding) me?”
What is most troubling about Roseanne`s act is the lack of respect she seems to have for her adoring audience. Barely reacting to its presence, she seemed to forget that this wasn`t TV.
Opening for Roseanne was husband Tom Arnold, whose material wouldn`t have passed muster on open mike night at a third-rate comedy club.
Actually, he summed things up pretty well in his own introduction: ”I`m from Iowa, I worked at a meatpacking plant, I met a famous woman, and now I have a career.”
At least he was honest.
