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What's Right with This Picture?
July 3, 2008 6:35 AM
Tonight at 10 p.m. ET, ABC presents the second installment of its excellent documentary series Hopkins, NBC presents the latest installment in its creepy suspense anthology series Fear Itself, and CBS presents another new episode of its period drama series, Swingtown.
So I ask you: What's right with this picture?
What's right, in a very easy-to-crack nutshell, is that this is an hour when all the major broadcast networks are presenting fresh, non-rerun programming. And when not one of them is presenting a reality or competition show.
Yes, I know, Fox is into local programming at this hour, so it's a field of three networks, not four. But even at that, can you guess how many other weekly slots in prime time are populated entirely by fresh, non-reality broadcast programs?
This week, there aren't any others. Not one. Tonight's Hopkins-Fear Itself-Swingtown combo is the only such troika. And next week, Fear Itself is being bumped for an expanded Last Comic Standing telecast, so next week there won't be any.
Strike-related erosion isn't the only reason TV viewership is down this summer. If the networks aren't even trying, why should audiences be visiting?
A few more years of polluting the airwaves with unimaginative, unwatchable reality shows and endless reruns, and Last Comic Standing may well translate to Last Viewer Watching...
If You Don't Dive Into "Mad Men" DVD, You're Crazy
July 1, 2008 8:39 AM
Lionsgate's first-season DVD set of Mad Men, AMC's first, fabulous weekly drama series, comes out today -- and if there's one thing that will make this long, hot summer of TV doldrums more tolerable, this is it...
Mad Men is set at a Madison Avenue advertising agency in 1960 -- when men were chauvinists, women wore bullet bras, and everyone smoked like the chimney tops in Mary Poppins. Three-martini lunches were common. So were office affairs, ambitious jockeying for position, and secrets. Lots of secrets.
Matthew Weiner, a talented writer on The Sopranos, created this series, and started out by getting the cast and look exactly right. Jon Hamm stars as Don Draper, a dashing ad exec with a beautiful blonde wife (January Jones as Betty), more than one woman in his peripheral orbit, and some deep, dark secrets in his distant past.
He and his new secretary, Elisabeth Moss as Peggy, are at the core of Mad Men, but it's populated by an office full of captivating characters. There's John Slattery from Desperate Housewives as Don's boss, Roger Sterling, and Vincent Kartheiser (the wayward son on Angel) as Don's office nemesis, Pete Campbell.
Most arrestingly of all, there's Christina Hendricks as Joan, the woman who rules the office using a variety of ploys and weapons -- sex appeal being no small part of her arsenal. At least a half dozen other actors and characters also shine in this series, which captures, with delicious wit and delightful details, 1960 in all its glory and folly, up to and including the Nixon-Kennedy presidential election.
The grace notes, throwaway lines and period-perfect props all add to the fun. If you're old enough, you may gasp with recognition, seeing once again items you'd long forgotten -- aluminum beer cans that you pierce with sharp-pointed openers, IBM electric typewriters with unwieldy plastic covers, plastic transistor radios. And if you're too young to remember them, you're the right age to be amused and fascinated by them.
After an overly obvious pilot episode, Mad Men evolves quickly into a brilliant, subtle TV show, a multilayered character study and an incisive social commentary all at once. Weiner has created a wonderful window into the past, and watching Mad Men on DVD, from Lionsgate (four discs, $49.98 retail), is the ultimate way to enjoy it.
Buy it here, at a substantial discount. Then, when it arrives, mix some martinis, sit back... and wallow.
Hollywood Should Balk at Prospect of a Strike Two
June 30, 2008 8:32 AM
One minute after midnight tonight, the contract expires between the Screen Actors Guild (SAG) and the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP). There's no imminent strike threat, but when another Hollywood union, the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (AFTRA), announces its separately negotiated deal with AMPTP on July 8, SAG may reject the particulars of that deal and seek strike authorization from its own membership.
Bottom line: There could be a strike two, another crippling Hollywood work stoppage in the same 12-month period. Bottom line to the bottom line: Anyone else who goes on strike in Hollywood this year is a certifiable idiot.
What's at stake, in the small picture, are the same issues for which the Writers Guild of America (WGA) walked out in November 2007 -- chief among them, clearer and fairer compensation for new media. What complicates the picture, this time around, is that the WGA settled for a fairly paltry deal, and AFTRA is said to be about to do the same.
So the choices by the SAG membership are either to follow the WGA and AFTRA lead and settle for less, or go on strike and not settle at all. Meanwhile, there's the additional complicating factor of a SAG-AFTRA membership overlap. SAG, by far the bigger gorilla in this fight, has 120,000 members to 70,000 for AFTRA -- And 44,000 of those AFTRA members, more than 60 percent, also belong to SAG.
Messy, messy, messy. And AMPTP, the greedy land baron in all of this, is stirring up the pot, and the press, by putting famous faces to the feuding factions. Tom Hanks and Susan Sarandon are on the AFTRA side. Jack Nicholson and Martin Sheen are siding with SAG.
But a second strike would be so crippling to the flow of Hollywood entertainment right now that whatever gains negotiated by a protracted strike would most likely be offset by long-term losses. Not only in revenue, but in momentum. In audience loyalty. In audience numbers, period.
Many movies, right now, are hitting the pause buttons on their production remotes, waiting to see what will happen next. Many TV shows, on the other hand, are diving headlong into production to stockpile whatever they can -- even though, if a SAG strike becomes a reality in August, the fall TV season will be even more pathetic than it already threatens to be.
And that, my friends, could throw the entire broadcast TV equation into free fall. Deny and anger the audience one more time, and the networks may never get them back.
True TV Tributes Deserve Hours, Not Moments
June 27, 2008 7:54 AM
Tonight's TV choices include several last-minute prime-time additions, programmed by their respective networks to honor recently deceased stars. Turner Classic Movies presents three movies by Cyd Charisse, and Home Box Office repeats George Carlin's final standup comedy special. These are very welcome moves, and ones from which other networks could learn a valuable lesson...
When Tim Russert died earlier this month, news organizations devoted hour after hour -- many hours in a row on Friday cable news the day he died, and several additional tribute hours on NBC, including Russert's own Meet the Press, in the days and weeks afterward.
Whatever you watched, you were presented clip after clip of key moments from Russert's on-air triumphs: holding the dry-erase board during the 2000 election-night coverage, grilling politicians on Meet the Press, and so on. It was almost like, in a weird way, we were watching Russert's life pass before our eyes, with image after image somehow adding up to a life.
But nowhere, that I saw, did any broadcast or cable network present a sample of Russert's work undiluted. Here's an hour from, say, his first time hosting Meet the Press, or his best interviews. We got appetizers, but not meals. We could taste, but not chew. Certainly, in the wee hours on MSNBC and CNBC, there was room for such well-timed reruns.
Contrast that to when George Carlin died this week, and HBO quickly programmed two nights' worth of the comedian's old HBO specials on sister network HBO2, in prime time. The last of those specials, It's Bad for Ya, televised earlier this year, is presented tonight at 9 p.m. ET on HBO itself. It's worth seeing, certainly -- but watching those old specials, in their entirety, was a unique and revelatory way to watch an artist and his art mature.
Even the first special, 1977's George Carlin at USC, was wonderful to watch at full length. Back then, HBO was still so skittish about televising Carlin's "Seven Dirty Words" routine that it had former 60 Minutes contributor Shana Alexander introduce the special, explaining the rawness -- and artistic merit -- of what was to come. Then, about an hour into the special, just before Carlin launched into his "Dirty" routine, HBO stopped the tape -- to invite viewers who may be offended by the upcoming material to leave with their sensitive sensibilities intact.
Can you imagine HBO pulling such a stunt today, midway through Def Comedy Jam? That's how far we've come, and Carlin's envelope-pushing, seen in that special (and again Wednesday) in all its unedited boldness, was no small part of the advance.
Similarly, to be able to see Cyd Charisse dancing with Gene Kelly in Singin' in the Rain tonight at 8 p.m. ET on TCM, and with Fred Astaire in The Band Wagon (10 p.m. ET) and Silk Stockings (midnight ET), is to see an artist blossom and radiate before our eyes. Not just in five-second clips, but in complete numbers, in entire movies.
Astaire liked to stage his dance sequences so there was minimal editing, so you could enjoy the totality of the performances and see the entire body at work. Seeing the entire body of work makes just as much sense, when paying tribute to an artist, and both Charisse and Carlin have been served well this week. And NBC is serving Carlin well this weekend, too, by repeating, in its entirety, his appearance as host of the very first edition of Saturday Night Live.
Other networks, please take note.
For Summer-Starved Quality TV Fans, ABC's "Hopkins" Is Just What the Doctor Ordered
June 26, 2008 7:22 AM
There are other places today where I'm talking excitedly and approvingly about Hopkins, the new six-part ABC documentary series premiering tonight at 10 ET. I'm reviewing the show on Fresh Air with Terry Gross, and have posted a review of the show on my Broadcasting & Cable blog. But here, I want to rave a little more, for a few other reasons.
Before I forget, if you want to hear my review on Fresh Air, you can listen in at your normal time on your local NPR radio station, or visit the Fresh Air website about 3 p.m. ET to hear it online. Here's that link. As for my Broadcasting & Cable blog, you can link to that here.
But now, for the rest. Those two reviews talk about the fine lineage and excellent quality of Terry Wrong's new nonfiction production, and how this second visit to Baltimore's Johns Hopkins Hospital is, though a bit more slick in tone and style, just as impressive as its predecessor, Hopkins 24/7, which ABC ran eight long years ago.
But I want to address, just for a second, how smart Hopkins is compared to most of the other summer prime-time network fare we're being offered. And it seems only fair to start with ABC, since Hopkins was promoted during such mind-numbing ABC fare as Wipeout and Wife Swap.
Where's the intelligent viewer to go these days to watch broadcast TV without getting sick to the stomach? (And if it's sick to the stomach you want, don't forget Hurl!, the intentional-upchuck show that premieres next month on G4.)
Take away Wednesday's Prime Time: The Outsiders, which was a superficial look at Amish teens anyway, and look at ABC's Monday through Wednesday prime-time lineup:
The Bachelorette (two hours). The Mole. Wipeout. I Survived a Japanese Game Show. Wife Swap. Supernanny. I've known stables that featured less horse manure than that.
NBC, in the same three-day period, presented -- take a deep, cleansing breath -- American Gladiators, Nashville Star, Deal or No Deal, America's Got Talent, Baby Borrowers and Celebrity Circus. Which is worse? Tough call. But from a distance, both lineups smell pretty much the same.
That's why Hopkins is so deserving of being embraced. It's smart, and presumes its viewers are, too.
In summer, especially, that's a very welcome rarity.
ABC's "Japanese Game Show" Is Better Than Expected, but "Wipeout" Is Even Worse
June 25, 2008 9:28 AM
Wipeout and I Survived a Japanese Game Show, ABC's new series premiering last night, weren't sent out in advance for critics to preview -- no doubt because ABC figured there was little point. And yes, Wipeout was even more horrendous and repulsive than expected -- but I Survived a Japanese Game Show (and I'm as shocked to write this as you may be to read it) actually wasn't that bad.
On the surface, both shows are designed to require contestants to run a gauntlet of physically demanding, visually goofy tasks, making them look like videogame characters in a cartoon world of colorful challenges. But the key difference between these two shows is the same thing that separates Fear Factor from Amazing Race: At its core, one show is mean, while the other is fun.
I Survived a Japanese Game Show punks its contestants, initially, by sending them to Japan and throwing them unexpectedly onto foreign -- very foreign -- game-show sets, where they compete as teams in front of bleachers full of Japanese audience members. Based on the results of these challenges, losing teams must select members for possible elimination, while they rub each other the wrong way in cramped living quarters. Very Hell's Kitchen, with an Iron Chef flavor and a Survivor feel.
The unexpected, enjoyable part of Japanese Game Show is the playfulness. Contestants are costumed as giant insects and told to jump from trampolines onto a target of superimposed car passengers. The challenge is called "Big Bugs Splat on Windshield," and, as one contestant explains with a smile, "It's like darts, but your body is the dart, and you're dressed like a bug."
Winners of one challenge get a VIP tour of Tokyo, while losers have to become rickshaw drivers. And when a player is eliminated, he or she is carried out by a small gaggle of black-suited Japanese men, as the audience waves arms and chants "Sayonara!" All very silly. But somehow, all very benign, and a lot more enjoyable than anticipated.
Wipeout, on the other hand, is a puerile mess, and ABC should say "Sayonara" to it as quickly as possible. If you played a drinking game with this juvenile show, and took a shot every time one of the hosts said the phrase "big balls" (the name of one of the obstacle-course challenges), you'd be in rehab before the closing credits.
Wipeout is, as one host helpfully explained, "the show where other people risk bodily harm so you can point and laugh." Except I'm not laughing. I'm grimacing, as they get knocked into the mud by the Sucker Punch or bouncing like a pinball between the big balls. (Take another drink.) Contestants end up muddy and nauseous, and I know just how they feel.
After watching Wipeout, I'm sick to my stomach, too -- and my immediate impulse, like theirs, is to go shower.
Lots to Cover: Your "Get Smart" Guesses, Your Website Ad Advice, "P.O.V." and Thoughts on George Carlin and Tom Brokaw
June 24, 2008 7:36 AM
First things first. I'm absolutely blown away by the thoughtfulness, support and incredibly high caliber of writing in your emails to me about my website advertising dilemma. Anyone reading your comments to yesterday's blog should be convinced, beyond any doubt, what a smart and discerning bunch of people are visiting this website. You may have convinced me to rethink my position -- give me a few days to digest it all -- but boy, if I ever seek out ads and a advertising director, rest assured your comments will be Exhibit A in any sales pitch.
So thanks, truly. If this website is going to succeed, it'll be a slow build, and I can't tell you how honored I am to have you here with me at the beginning. You're a classy, smart bunch, and your compliments and trust should keep me going for quite a while.
--
Now to Get Smart. I learned, with Sex & the City, that the first reported weekend grosses often are readjusted -- so when initial reports gave Get Smart first place for last weekend with a $39.1 million take, I decided to wait a day and see what happened. I admit to being almost giddy, however, to having predicted an opening-weekend total of $40 million.
Today's figures adjusted the total downward slightly, to $38.7 million, so my guess wasn't quite as accurate. But the guess by Jack Cheng, the first reader to post a prediction, certainly was. He went with $38.5 million, which is damned impressive. I'll contact you, Jack, to negotiate a suitably shabby prize. What'll it be? ESPN hockey puck? Blue's Clues notepad? Wild Chronicles survival kit? The Whitest Kids U'Know toilet paper?
(Oh, and the Get Smart cameo I loved? Right at the end, Patrick Warburton as Hymie the robot. For that alone, bring on the sequel!)
Meanwhile, since I predicted $55 million for Sex and the City, which earned $56.8 its opening weekend, and $40 million against the actual $38.7 for Get Smart, I hereby offer my services to any and all studios as a freelance prognosticator regarding movies made from TV shows. Please contact me quickly, before I blow it by guessing horribly wrong on next month's X-Files: I Want to Believe film.
--
Tonight's season opener of the PBS documentary series P.O.V. (10 p.m. ET; check local listings) is a first-time film by Katrina Browne, whose ancestors were, by her account, the largest slave trading family in U.S. history. It's a strong start for what looks to be another solid season, and two extended conversations in Browne's Traces of the Trade: A Story from the Deep North are shakingly memorable.
In one, after traveling to Ghana ("the Ellis Island of slavery"), Browne and the nine relatives who made the trip with her sit and have a roundtable discussion with, among others, the locals whose ancestors were stolen by Brown's ancestors, the DeWolfs. ("Are you not ashamed?" they are asked -- and they are.) Back home, after the voyage, Browne and her fellow voyagers discover, as the cameras roll, that all but one of them went to college at Princeton, Harvard or Brown. Their family position of privilege, brought on by the selling of other human beings, continues.
--
Finally, reactions to the death of George Carlin, and to the appointment of Tom Brokaw as the interim host of NBC's Meet the Press.
Carlin has been eulogized on this website already, by Diane Werts' wonderful piece yesterday, which you can read here. All I'd like to add is that the man who was selected to host the very first episode of NBC's Saturday Night Live back in 1975 is indeed a comedy icon. He lent that show credibility -- counter-culture credibility, which was totally absent from TV in those days -- from the start, just by agreeing to appear on its premiere.
As for Brokaw stepping in as the temporary replacement after the untimely death of Tim Russert, that's a brilliant choice. I wrote about it in a report for the Broadcasting & Cable website, which you can read here -- but the gist is that by putting Brokaw in that seat until Election Day, NBC is serving the legacies of both Russert and Meet the Press proudly.
Can I Be Trusted to Accept -- and Decline -- Ads? I Need Your "P.O.V."
June 22, 2008 11:19 PM
I need your help. If you're a regular reader of this website -- or any member of the print, electronic or online media or academic community -- I'm looking for guidance. I'm embarking on a path that may be unprecedented, and may also be foolish. But since this newly blazed trail is dependent entirely upon your trust in my opinions, I figure I should solicit, and trust, your opinions as well.
When I launched TV WORTH WATCHING last November, the day my farewell TV column was published in the New York Daily News, I included a pledge for the future. I would never accept ads from any show or network I didn't like, and the acceptance of any ad wouldn't dictate how, or whether, I wrote about, that show or network in the future.
At the time, that was just a theory. But now, unless I'm overruled by public opinion, it's about to become reality. The folks at the PBS documentary series P.O.V. approached me a few months ago about running an ad on my site, keyed to the June launch of their 21st season. We struck a deal, my website guy inserted it on the right side of the page as our inaugural ad (thanks, Rich!), and it's been running all month. Check it out and poke around... but, please, finish reading this first.
Because the season premiere, Katrina Browne's Traces of the Trade: A Story from the Deep North, is televised tomorrow night at 10 ET (check local listings), I figured now was the time to defend my decision to accept advertising -- and to seek advice on how to proceed in the future.
First, and very important (at least to me), this never was intended as a nonprofit enterprise. I've been writing best bets daily, and columns (a.k.a. blogs) five days a week, for eight months now, for no salary -- and my Daily News wages, at the same time, have vanished into the "no salary" category also. Making the site subscription-based was something I'd never consider -- anyone who cares enough about my opinion to seek it out has me in their debt already, not the other way around.
But ads from programs and networks I support critically anyway, that's another thing. Except for my column/blog, which addresses anything relevant about television, TV WORTH WATCHING -- by design and nature as well as by name -- is meant to identify and champion the best. The best shows, the best DVD releases, the best books about TV, even the best theme songs. In an Internet universe where so much is so negative, the aim here is to celebrate the positive.
To me, it makes sense that the ads should reflect that same sensibility. You might find an ad for NBC's 30 Rock on this site, but you'll never find an ad for the same network's Celebrity Circus. It all comes down to personal taste on my part, and trust on your part. Trust in my ability to keep advertising and editorial separate, and trust in the consistency and honesty in my body of work.
Here's the deal. I worked as a TV critic on daily newspapers from 1975 until last November. Time and again, over the years, there have been occasions where appearances of impropriety have been raised, confronted and tested. My favorite was when I had it written into my contract at the New York Post, when it was owned by Rupert Murdoch, that I had editorial independence when it came to story selection and the content of my reviews.
So when Murdoch launched the Fox network and sent one show after another down the pike, I hated them all, and said so in his flagship New York paper. Hated them all, that is, until Fox developed The Tracey Ullman Show and its spinoff The Simpsons, which I adored from the start. That may not have gotten me on Murdoch's Christmas card list (in fact, it didn't), but readers, I hope, decided over time I could be trusted.
I still love The Simpsons, which is now approaching its 20th year. There aren't that many TV critics still working who were around to review that first Christmas special in 1989, and that's the other reason I'm hoping to have built enough residual goodwill to support the concept of advertising.
If you've read this site with any regularity, my tastes should be fairly transparent. I gravitate towards smart dramas, smart and silly comedies, and, because I also love movies, tend to mix in an old black-and-white classic among my nightly recommendations. But what I hope I bring to the Internet, which a lot of bloggers don't, is a professionalism that comes from more than three decades of watching, and writing about, TV. My own output, over the years, is the standard to which I ask, and hope, to be judged.
That means, when I write about about the first handful of programs in the new season of P.O.V., it isn't because of any ad. It's because I've taken the time to see all five programs. All of them, by coincidence or design, have to do with race or class, and past or present injustices inflicted on various minorities. And each documentary, in its own way, is stirring and disturbing. (I'll review the season opener in more detail tomorrow.)
P.O.V., in a way, is the perfect test case for advertising on this site, because the series premiered in 1988 -- predating even The Simpsons -- and I reviewed it positively from the start. I don't keep every clip from those days (a lightning strike saw to that), but I do have two 1990 reviews, from my New York Post days, calling P.O.V. "a pointedly, almost defiantly, subjective showcase" and "intriguing and indispensable."
Like any anthology showcase, P.O.V. has had its ups and downs, and my thumbs have gone up and down accordingly. But anyone who thinks that, back in 1989 and 1990, I was supporting P.O.V. because I envisioned -- a mere two decades down the line -- that there would be an Internet, I would have a website, and P.O.V. would be ripe for the ad-revenue plucking -- is even more insane than I am for starting TV WORTH WATCHING in the first place.
But I believe in quality television, and P.O.V. easily, proudly qualifies. I hope I've done enough -- in print, in books, on the radio, even on the web -- to establish credibility as I shift into this scary new medium. The question is -- and it's a question that's anything but rhetorical, so please weigh in -- am I right?
And if not, can anyone suggest a workable Plan B?
"Get Smart" Movie -- Your Mission, Should You Decide to Accept It...
June 20, 2008 7:10 AM
Yesterday, I told you what I think of the new movie remake of the classic Get Smart spy spoof TV series. Now, because I'm really curious about how it will play with audiences, I'd like to know what YOU think...
So if you're going to see the movie, please report back and share your thoughts -- what you liked and disliked, what you were happy they included and sorry they excluded, whether you enjoyed the mix of comedy and action, and, perhaps most of all, what you thought of the casting and performances, from Steve Carell and Anne Hathaway as Maxwell Smart and Agent 99 on down to the cameos.
A few weeks ago, when I asked you guys and gals to predict the first-week box office for Sex and the City, I got a wonderful response -- and two readers named Chris, whose guesses were closest, ended up with tacky prizes from my basement floor. One got an ER first-aid kit, and the other got a Travel Channel AM/FM radio shaped like a mini-suitcase.
Who needs Million Dollar Password when you've got riches like these underfoot?
So let's play again. I've got enough junk on the floor to support another cheapo prize for whomever gets closest to the opening-weekend Get Smart grosses without going over. Last time, my (ahem) amazingly accurate prediction -- $55 million, against the actual $56.8 million -- was published in advance in my Broadcasting & Cable column. This time, I'll just go ahead and guess here and now, but I don't expect lightning to strike twice.
(Lightning already struck my house once, but that's another story.)
The same-day opening of the Mike Myers Love Guru movie makes it tougher to predict, but I'll go ahead and say $40 million for Get Smart. This one day, though, ignore what I say, and make your own guesses.
And remember -- once you see the movie, if you do, please come back and weigh in. I'll be reading all your reports... and loving it.
"Get Smart" Movie Remake: Sorry About That, Chief
June 19, 2008 8:20 AM
There are moments of the new Get Smart movie, which opens tonight at midnight, that are truly funny -- a sight gag here, a sly reference there, a perfectly delivered line of dialogue over there. And just before it ends, there's a cameo appearance that absolutely screams for a sequel.
But in the end, this movie remake of the classic Get Smart TV series -- and here's a line I'm betting will be used by at least a plurality of the movie critics reviewing the film -- missed it by that much.
The movie got some things right, so let's salute those first. It found a way to incorporate the now museum-dusty props from the 1965-70 TV show -- the shoephone, Maxwell Smart's red sports car -- by placing them in an actual CONTROL museum. It updated the multiple sliding doors gag to good effect, and made room for Bill Murray to make an uncredited appearance as an agent in disguise. And most of Don Adams' catch phrases as the original Secret Agent 86 -- "Sorry about that, chief," "Missed it by that much," "the old __________ trick") are present and accounted for.
The casting, too, is strong. Alan Arkin, as the new Chief, is dry and delightful, and earns the biggest laugh in the movie -- a profanity-laden reaction at the end of one chase scene. Anne Hathaway, as Agent 99, even wears a wig in one extended sequence (see top photo), just to approximate the mod look of Barbara Feldon circa 1966. She's stronger, more independent and less enamored of Max than in the original series -- more like Emma Peel than Agent 99 -- but the changes fit the character as well as the times, and Hathaway looks great.
Dwayne Johnson, as tough-guy Agent 23, brings less to the mix than Arkin or Hathaway, but that's as much a function of plot as character. And Steve Carell, as Max, plays him as -- well, as Steve Carell, basically. Nothing wrong with that. Instead, the problem with his character is the same problem that ultimately dilutes the movie: a lack of consistency.
In some scenes, Max is a bumbler (throwing the phone, throwing the grappling hook). In other scenes, he's comically adroit, flexible and accurate. In some scenes, he's naive or dumb. In others, he's sly and clever. And the film's producers, and director Peter Segal, chose not to present Get Smart as a straight spy spoof, in the mold of the Austin Powers or In Like Flint movies -- but as an action/comedy hybrid. There are extended chase and action scenes that are played not for laughs, but for suspense. But there isn't any.
At the end of Get Smart the movie, an actor shows up making a brief, unexpected appearance as Hymie the Robot, a beloved character from the original series. Just the sight of this actor (whose identity I'll keep secret, so you can enjoy it yourself) playing this part makes me hope the movie earns enough to launch a sequel, because a Hymie-Max-99 movie would be a vast improvement on this often awkward and inconsistent relaunch effort.
The filmmakers have the right core cast. Now all they have to do next time, if there is a next time, is trust the tone of the Buck Henry-Mel Brooks original series, and go for laughs all the way. The teen boys can get their cinematic action fix satisfied elsewhere... but what made Get Smart funny then works just as well now.
