TVSquad

It's pilot season in Los Angeles, which means it's time for underemployed writers to slip on their parkas and head into sub-Artic studios to attend the tapings of television shows that may never see the light of day.

The novelty of attending a pilot taping wears off pretty quickly. If you've ever attended the taping of any television show, you know that there is a copious amount of waiting involved. Sitting and waiting and freezing. Picking out which audience members were bussed in versus which ones actually know what show they're attending can only occupy you for so long.

Pilots are worse in that the show is new. It's not yet the well-oiled machine it will become if the studio picks it up, which means that you can expect to see the same material repeated over and over and over again. Once you're seated in the studio audience at a pilot taping, there's no telling when you'll get out. It could last three hours. It could last six. It could go Wagner length without the intermissions and snack bar. That's why I'm pretty damn picky about what shows I'll attend. I can afford to be picky. As an underemployed writer living in Los Angeles, I have the time. I normally stay away from pilot tapings, but this I couldn't resist - The Root of All Evil, a Lewis Black-helmed show for Comedy Central.

The show is being produced by the mastermind behind Bill Maher's Politically Incorrect and Real Time, the benevolent Scott Carter. (I don't know if he's benevolent, but he looks like a nice, industrious guy.) Anyway, this might lead you to believe that The Root of All Evil is a panel show. That was my assumption, as well as my colleague Adam's, who wrote about the taping earlier this week. Well, one look at the set proved that assumption all wrong. It looked like a stripped-down sci-fi courtroom as designed by the geniuses behind Deal or No Deal.

The Root of All Evil puts "pop culture on trial." Lewis Black plays the judge, and a rotating roster of guest comedians play lawyers prosecuting decency's greatest offenders. The first trial pitted "Chick Flicks" against "Video Games" as the root of all evil. Comedian Andrew Daly argued that chick flicks were the root of all evil. Paul F. Tompkins argued that video games were the root of all evil. The two presented their cases, which included videotaped segments, and took turns questioning each other as witnesses. In the end, Black came down with a verdict. Next up, Paris Hilton vs. Dick Cheney as the root of all evil. Patton Oswalt argued Dick Cheney's case. Greg Giraldo argued Paris Hilton's. You get the basic concept.

Now, if you're going to have anyone playing judge and jury to our culture's current state of affairs, shouldn't it be Lewis Black? Of course, it should. He has just the right combination of unction, outrage and curmudgeonly resignation. It's the perfect role for him, and he wears it well. Why his robe is made of a purple satin more fitting for a choir director or doctoral candidate than a judge, we may never know, but he wears that well, too.

The conceit of having the comedians play lawyers is an effective one. They get to do their scripted material, video skits and have fun with the conventions of the courtroom or, at least, the version of the courtroom we all know from television. They exaggeratedly lean into the microphone on the witness stand. They gather around Black for pointless sidebars. The get to shout "no further questions" and be the overly dramatic blowhards television would lead us to believe lawyers really are. And, the best part - they wear spiffy suits. This isn't a stretch for the always dapper Paul F. Tompkins, but how adorable is Patton Oswalt in his three-piece? Very. This may, in fact, be the best part of the show - the suits, the courtroom contrivances, the gavel pounding, etc. While the comedians' scripted material is smart and fun, how much of a stretch is it to make fun of Paris Hilton? These subjects satirize themselves. It's getting to see these guys improvise off of the well-worn rituals of our judicial system that makes the show far more entertaining than an uneven panel discussion.

After the taping, the crew filmed some handheld camera People's Court-style interviews of the prosecutors reflecting on their respective wins and losses. Hopefully, they'll make it on the air because they were hilarious. Certainly, they were the loosest part of the show. The Root of All Evil is smartly done, but whether it succeeds or not will depend a great deal of finding the right combination of scripted martial and improvised tomfoolery. The looser the show got, the better it was. The scripted material is at its core and Black's opening and closing remarks were priceless, but the funniest moments were the ones when the arrogance that comes from pretending to be a lawyer raised the bar on the debates making them not just commentaries on pop culture, but a solid kick in the pants to the pretense and pomposity of our overly-litigious society.


A few of my favorite moments, which technically could be considered spoilers if the show is aired and these bits aren't edited out. So, stop reading if you'd like to wait for the endless promo spots to ruin all the punchlines for you:

- Greg Giraldo telling Patton Oswalt he has little baby fetus arms, which prompted Oswalt to kiss his biceps after having an objection sustained saying, "We won, little guys."

- When asked about the case by the show's Doug Llewelyn character, Paul F. Tompkins mused at length about what he was really thinking about - whether or not he should eat the Mandarin Orange Chicken in his fridge cause it was right on the verge of going bad.

- Andrew Daly channeling some old school Atticus Finch posturing. He may not be a lawyer, but he could play one on TV.

- Lewis Black calling sidebars for no apparent reason. The best one ended in Black, Daly and Tompkins each putting a hand in sports huddle-style and shouting, "Sidebar!"