Fox's Growing Pains

By Richard Zoglin

Network labels traditionally count for little in the mass-produced world of broadcast TV. Who can honestly tell the difference between a CBS show and an NBC show or one that happens to appear on ABC? Only Fox, the scrappy fourth network, has established a brand-name distinctiveness. The network's executives like to refer to it as the "Fox edge" or the "Fox attitude." It encompasses everything from the brassy bad taste of Married with Children to the tabloid grittiness of Cops. Fox has been willing to take chances on ideas too dumb to believe (Woops!, a sitcom about the survivors of nuclear holocaust) and others almost too good to be true (The Simpsons). If the young audience hooked on Fox signature hits like Beverly Hills, 90210 has had little patience for more sophisticated efforts like The Ben Stiller Show or Tribeca, well, that's the price for cultivating a niche.

But Fox is growing up, and the niche is getting fuzzy. Fox programmers are trying this season to broaden the network's audience beyond the core group of teens and young adults. It's a matter of practicality as much as policy: six years after introducing its first two nights of prime-time fare, Fox has just expanded to a full seven nights of programming. Says Sandy Grushow, president of Fox Entertainment: "When you program seven nights a week, you have to have a balanced diet of programming. You can't do 28 Simpsons or 28 variations on In Living Color."

The network's fall lineup still shows traces of the old renegade Fox, the Network Without Adult Supervision. For one thing, Fox programmers pay little heed to the usual seasonal demarcation lines: to get a jump on the competition, three fall newcomers are being introduced before Labor Day. And some of them, at least, exhibit the in-your-face bluster that only Fox can get away with. Sometimes.

As bad as TV sitcoms often are, for instance, it's hard to imagine anyone but Fox churning out a turkey like Living Single. Rap singer Queen Latifah plays one of four "upwardly mobile" black women trying to make it in New York City. Sound familiar? So are all the jokes, including an extended one in the pilot episode about a roommate whose suave boyfriend turns out to be -- gasp! -- married, and predictable put-down lines that depend on characters behaving like either insufferable snobs or total idiots. Stuck-up roommate: "Are you saying that I am shallow?" Wisecracking girlfriend: "Like a kiddie pool." Proceed at your own risk.

Daddy Dearest, a slightly smarter sitcom about a psychiatrist whose father moves in with him, might be termed Transitional Fox. Casting angst-ridden comic Richard Lewis as the shrink is the sign of a show aiming for a more adult level of relationship comedy. But pairing him with Don Rickles (who barges into his son's group-therapy session to shout racial insults at everybody) puts us squarely back on the Fox buzz saw.

Elsewhere, Fox is resorting to a time-tested network ploy: trying to duplicate past successes. With In Living Color fading fast, Robert Townsend has been enlisted to create another sketch-comedy series, Townsend Television. The X-Files, a fictionalized account of FBI agents who investigate paranormal phenomena, will take over the UFO beat from the canceled Sightings. And Sinbad, starring the young black comic, is an admitted effort to catch "the same lightning in a bottle," according to Grushow, as Martin, starring young black comic Martin Lawrence.

Yet Fox is also venturing in some very un-Fox-like directions. The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr., a comic western about a Harvard-educated lawman, works hard for its hip, genre-spoofing tone. But it recalls too many previous adventure-with-a-smile network flops. If the cutesy segment titles don't send you running for cover ("Chapter Three: Hot Flames, Two Dames and Loose Reins"), the ridiculous fight scenes probably will (surrounded by four gunmen, Brisco drops to the ground, and the bad guys all shoot one another).

Fox's effort to broaden its base has produced at least one unexpected gem: Bakersfield, P.D., a flaky, funny, sweet-tempered comedy that looks like no other show on Fox, or anywhere else. Giancarlo Esposito does a wonderful slow burn as a half-Italian, half-African-American cop who relocates to California and finds himself surrounded by nut cases. His partner is a Rollerblading TV junkie who tries to bridge the racial divide by playing the theme from Shaft in the squad car. His captain is so petrified of making decisions that he can't punch a phone button without having an anxiety attack. There's no laugh track, but lots of deft small-town satire, as well as TV's most honest, uninhibited comic treatment of race since Frank's Place. It's a welcome sight on any network.