‘Murphy Brown’ makes a mixed return
Why “Murphy Brown”? Why now? With our current parade of TV reboots, remakes and revivals, those are questions worth asking, as familiar faces continue to grace our screens.
Many popular shows could have been revived or rebooted, so what justifies bringing back Murphy (Candice Bergen), Corky (Faith Ford), Frank (Joe Regalbuto) and Miles (Grant Shaud) in 2018?
The real answer is the election and interest among the cast and crew, but at the very least a series dedicated to the responsible practice of journalism makes a compelling case. And it seems the cast and creator Diane English are energized, diving into the 2018 political and social arena with verve. But the end result is mixed.
“Murphy” (Thursday, 9:30 EDT/PDT, ★★g☆), in which the star reporter steps into a cable-news morning show, is a hodgepodge of political preaching and nostalgic pandering, with a few moments of genuine comedy and emotion. It is not “Murphy” at its height but “Murphy” enough to be enjoyable, once it works out a few kinks.
The 11th season premiere establishes Murphy as a woman frustrated with her inability to have an impact on a world she perceives to be crumbling around her. On “Murphy in the Morning,” she’s determined to fight for truth and stand apart from the talking heads on TV. In addition to learning how to report in a world of tweets and nonstop cable news, she also finds that her son Avery (Jake McDorman, “Limitless”), all grown up and an accomplished TV journalist, has been offered his own show in the same time slot at a rival cable outlet, the Wolf Network.
Subtlety is rare in the new version of the series, which doles out on-the-nose and groan-worthy punchlines like candy and features just as many namedropping references as it did in the ’90s . “Murphy” also tries to modernize with the addition of Pat (Nik Dodani) a millennial social-media director on “Murphy in the Morning,” less a character than a collection of millennial stereotypes, whose dialogue is mostly an assortment of jokes about the oldsters.
Modernizing proves difficult for the series, which is often downright preachy about politics. While the show was a progressive touchstone that mixed real-world politics with fiction (ask Dan Quayle), there’s something naive about its approach to 2018 politics.
Murphy often appears to be a onewoman bastion against a storm of fake news, standing up to Sarah Sanders in a White House briefing and refusing to interview a thinly veiled stand-in for former presidential aide Steve Bannon. And while it’s clear the raucous in-studio audience is ready to clap and cheer for every bit of Murphy resistance, it occasionally gets tiresome and stilted. Murphy might hate talking heads, but she has a lot in common with them.
Murphy’s grandstanding is tempered by Avery, who often puts his mother in her place. He often is the most interesting aspect of the series. McDorman’s chemistry with Bergen makes them instantly believable as mother and son.
Murphy also feels in line with where we’d expect to find her. She’s in a state of dissociated anger and shock from Donald Trump’s election, and she’s dedicating herself to solutions, however messy her tactics.
Because Murphy is in a preachy, sanctimonious state of mind, the show can seem smug. But when the episodes slow down and focus on Murphy’s relationship with her son, or her internal struggle with the new world of journalism, there’s a spark of the old magic.
Of the recent high-profile revivals, “Will & Grace” got better as the cast and writers settled into a rhythm. “Roseanne,” before it imploded off screen, was a little too political on screen. Here’s hoping Murphy and friends sail through 2018 without sinking under the weight of its inanity.