The operating assumption of “Vibe” and “The Keenen Ivory Wayans Show,” two new nightly talk shows featuring African-American hosts, is that Jay and Dave just aren’t hip enough.
This theory is not groundbreaking. You don’t need to be Dennis Rodman to recognize that the leading NBC and CBS late-night shows often seem as middle-of-the-road as a state fair.
But in their first week of operation, the two hourlong syndicated newcomers are not offering much that’s fresh beyond a general–and welcome–colorizing of the atmosphere. There are a host, a band, a monologue and a couch, but there is also a richer concentration of such guests as Samuel L. Jackson and Salt-n-Pepa, musicians including Blackstreet and Puff Daddy, and lingo such as “y’all” and “in the house.” In such an atmosphere, even eminently white actress Nicollette Sheridan was moved to say, “What’s up with that?”
Chris Spencer, the likable but not immediately impressive young comic tabbed to host “Vibe,” enters dancing with the crowd, a far cry from Jay Leno’s nightly introductory fit of handshaking. Wayans, that ubiquitous family’s most positive contribution to the entertainment industry, took his stage the first night not in a double-breasted jacket and rep tie but wearing a shiny, black, I’m-a-superstar shirt-and-pants set.
For many viewers, such distinctions may be enough. TV audience measurements clearly establish that black viewers prefer shows built around black performers, and sales of rap and hip-hop music just as clearly show that suburban white kids are sold on the hipness of African-American culture.
Another operating theory of the two shows, according to the giant entertainment companies behind them, is that the young urban (that’s TV speak for “black”) audience has been underserved by talk shows since Arsenio Hall’s effort left the air in 1994. This is entirely possible, although one likes to think young folk of whatever demographic have better things to do than watch celebrities push product from sofas.
(A third such talk show, hosted by Magic Johnson, is scheduled to come out early next year, although anyone who’s heard his stints as an NBA announcer would probably think “point guard” before thinking “talk show.”)
“Vibe” and “Wayans” can probably count on some audience just by virtue of their careful targeting. What’s more hip than cultural cues, though, are things like sharp comedy, penetrating (or at least entertaining) interviews, clever ideas, and the confidence to put it all across.
In most of those respects the Wayans show (11 p.m. weeknights, WFLD-Ch. 32) has the early edge. It shows no signs of upending the talk-show format: Its most distinctive early notion is to have an all-female band, as if somebody couldn’t keep his mind off of old Robert Palmer videos. And Monday’s debut was a lurching thing, as the camera seemed to keep catching the host in the middle of an intense thought.
But it is a more polished and promising presence, thanks largely to Wayans, who honed his comedy as the driving force behind the late, often first-rate Fox sketch comedy series, “In Living Color.” Wayans had settled down by Tuesday’s second night to deliver a crisp opening that was more standup act than monologue and to conduct engaging interviews with guests Jackson and Sheridan. He was even wearing calmer attire.
Parodies of diamond ads were as ungracefully written as the idea of doing them was welcome, and a comedy piece in which a blindfolded audience member had to guess which animal was licking his face was genuinely, stupidly funny.
Meanwhile, “Vibe” (9 p.m. weeknights, WPWR-Ch. 50), named after the magazine that is sort of the Rolling Stone of the hip-hop music biz, dug itself a deep hole the first night by seeming desperate.
Even before his own host came out, Quincy Jones, one of the show’s backstage honchos, opened things up by introducing President Clinton via satellite, who offered some homiletic words about all of us getting along. If the vibe the program wants to convey is an unquestioning respect for authority figures and their platitudes, it couldn’t have chosen a better way to start.
The show proceeded to bring out more “surprise” guests than a “You Bet Your Life” episode: Salt-n-Pepa, Whoopi Goldberg, male model Tyson. It even showed off the fruit basket that had been sent over by ostensible rivals the Wayans family. The net effect was that the show was never in the present: It was all about the fact of getting on the air, and of promoting what was coming up.
By night two, things were more normal, with an odd hodgepodge of guests including actress Vivica A. Fox (coincidentally enough, the co-star of Arsenio Hall’s recent failed sitcom comeback), “Party of Five’s” Lacey Chabert, and R&B teen Aaliyah (who also brought a fruit basket).
But despite all the congratulatory foodstuffs, the comedy written for and delivered by Spencer was flat. He showed no knack in the early going for pacing, as the failed punchlines were mostly allowed to lie there, and he had that old Arsenio Hall habit of seeming not to be taking part in his interviews except to offer a prepared question when the guest stopped talking.
The show even committed a major sin, for one derived from a music magazine: In offering a “Retro Vibe” video clip before going to commercial, it misspelled the name of Marvin Gaye’s old Motown singing partner as “Tammy” Terrell.
That’s Tammi, and not knowing that shows a hipness no deeper than the skin on one of those pieces of fruit lying around.
