Review: This Week on Full Frontal with Samantha Bee

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My First Full Frontal, and Well Worth the Wait

I had known about Samantha Bee’s new show, Full Frontal, from the time of its debut, but it was only with the March 7th episode that I actually started to follow it. Part of the confusion was that Ms. Bee had been billed as the only female late night “talk show host.” Well, it’s true she does talk…quite a bit, as a matter of fact, but her show does not follow the format of what we have come to consider as the genre. You know, a show where the host delivers a brief monologue, maybe clowns around with a short bit of shtick, then gets down to the serious business of having celebrities join him to thump the tub for whatever entertainment they’re involved in at the moment. This is not to say that such shows are universally bad. In fact some of them can be quite entertaining. The point here is that Full Frontal is not that kind of a show. It is more like a female, American version of John Oliver’s show.

If Full Frontal resembles Last Week Tonight in format, it also would appear to resemble it in quality. Even if the idea of two such similar shows going on at the same time sounds a little redundant, we should keep in mind, there is more than enough political tomfoolery going on to fill the air space. One could (as one does) watch both shows without being bored to big, gulpy tears.

My first episode of Samantha Bee’s show started off with a bit that should give Rush Limbaugh’s “ditto” people a major stiffy, assuming they did not know they and their ilk were being cruelly mocked. It also showed that—again like Mr. Oliver—Ms. Bee is not above some self-deprecating humor to make her point. I will feed you a clip from a later part of the show. If you missed this episode and want to catch the clever intro, you had better watch the entire show. There are worse ways to spend your time.

Following that bit, Ms. Bee gave a wonderfully insincere eulogy for the Republican Party, which, she artfully pointed out, reached its official demise on March 3, 2016. I found it to be very witty, but could not help but feel a little unease. For one thing, I don’t think we should gloat until the 2016 election is over and/or some lover of decency has driven a stake through Ted Cruz’s heart. For another, everybody thought the Gop was dead and buried after the Goldwater debacle in 1964. (Please bear in mind, your narrator is what some would call an old exhalation from the lower portal). Such was not the case. As resounding a massacre as the 1964 presidential election had been, a Republican was back in the White House the next time out. Since then, we’ve had more Reps than Dems in the top job. But that could just be me feeling a little hinky. It was still a funny, well-delivered bit, so let us give credit where it’s due.

The biggest part of her half-hour show was her look at the unwelcome fad of school shootings that has become so integral a part of our culture lately. It was especially in this segment that Samantha Bee showed the degree to which she has mastered the art of political comedy. It is also at this point that I will treat you to this clip of the segment. In a world where your standard civics textbook must be revised to read that the United States government operates on an orderly system of checks and balances to the extent they are permitted by the NRA, it is important that you give the segment your full and undivided attention.

There is one caveat, though, and I hate to sound like I’m some sort of censorious prude, but I have to say something. At the end of the bit, a self-proclaimed nine-year-old girl drops an F-bomb. Okay, let us not be naïve. Most nine-year-olds have probably heard and used the word by that time. Still, I think it’s very important they picked it up from some kid on the playground and not from a classy performer like Samantha Bee.

Otherwise, I’d rate this show as top-drawer.

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Thomas Cleveland Lane

Thomas Cleveland Lane is a semi-retired freelance writer for pay and a stage actor for nothing more than the opportunity to make a fool of himself. Well, he does get a small stipend from the Washington Area Decency League, after playing the role of Hinezie in The Pajama Game, to never, ever appear on stage in his underpants again. When he has not managed to buffalo some director into casting him, Thomas can often be found at his favorite piano bar, annoying the patrons with his caterwauling. Thomas is the author of an anthology called Shaggy Dogs, a Collection of Not-So-Short Stories (destined to become a cult classic, shortly after he croaks). He is also the alter-ego to a very unbalanced Czech poet named Glub Dzmc. Mr. Lane generally resides in Gaithersburg, Maryland, and was last seen in the mirror, three days ago.
Thomas Cleveland Lane

Thomas Cleveland Lane

Thomas Cleveland Lane is a semi-retired freelance writer for pay and a stage actor for nothing more than the opportunity to make a fool of himself. Well, he does get a small stipend from the Washington Area Decency League, after playing the role of Hinezie in The Pajama Game, to never, ever appear on stage in his underpants again. When he has not managed to buffalo some director into casting him, Thomas can often be found at his favorite piano bar, annoying the patrons with his caterwauling. Thomas is the author of an anthology called Shaggy Dogs, a Collection of Not-So-Short Stories (destined to become a cult classic, shortly after he croaks). He is also the alter-ego to a very unbalanced Czech poet named Glub Dzmc. Mr. Lane generally resides in Gaithersburg, Maryland, and was last seen in the mirror, three days ago.