Variety demands sincerity not irony
The show: Maya & Marty, Season 1, Episode 2 The Moment: The skinny microphones Series co-star Maya Rudolph and guest Tina Fey, wearing form-fitting evening wear, struggle to climb onto absurdly high stools.
“It’s always been a dream of mine to host a variety show where I can perform with my friends,” Rudolph says.
“I was the same,” Fey replies. “On Saturday nights to watch Carol Burnett, I’d put on my fanciest nylon nightgown, mix orange and cream soda in a champagne glass and imagine I was part of it. That’s why I was able to stay a virgin until my mid-20s.”
Someone hands them comically Maya & long microphones, with cords.
“I love delicate ’70s mic work,” Fey says. The two launch into a medley of AM radio tunes, highlighted by Rudolph’s impression of . . . Charo.
That’s when I knew this series would not meet my high hopes for it. Charo may be a punchline now, but there was nothing ironic about the jiggly chanteuse’s near-constant appearances on the 1970s variety circuit. (I watched them all; Carol Burnett, sure, but also Glen Campbell, Flip Wilson, Tony Orlando and Sonny and Cher.)
Irony is the enemy of the variety format. It demands sincerity, even at the risk of embarrassment.
But in this iteration, segments veer between explaining the concept, satirizing it or paying inexplicable homage to its mouldier traditions (see Steve Martin’s desperate ventriloquist routine featuring the other cohost, Martin Short).
The only way to make this show work is to contemporize variety. Otherwise it’s nothing more than a community college media studies class with really expensive production values. Maya & Marty airs Tuesdays at 10 p.m. on NBC. Johanna Schneller is a media connoisseur who zeroes in on popculture moments. She usually appears Monday through Thursday.