Dial File — Steve Bornfeld: ‘Will’-ing a ‘Grace’-ful future

Friday, Dec. 10, 1999 | 9:54 a.m.

Steve Bornfeld is the Sun features editor. His television column appears Fridays. Reach him at steveb@vegas.com or 259-4081.

Where there's a Will, there's a Grace. And a Jack. And a Karen.

And where there's a "Will & Grace," there's one of television's great contemporary sitcom ensembles in the making -- a minor miracle amid today's drama-dominated TV.

The cast members of NBC's sensational sophomore series -- Debra Messing (Grace), Eric McCormack (Will), Sean Hayes (Jack) and Megan Mullally (Karen) -- are evolving into TV's latter-day Lucy, Ricky, Fred and Ethel, a fabulously funny foursome in a show that has scored a sitcom hat trick: "Ellen" meets "Seinfeld" by way of "I Love Lucy."

But "Seinfeld," widely considered The Funniest Sitcom of the '90s, tended toward smirk-filled flippancy. And "Ellen," widely considered The Taboo-Busting Sitcom of the '90s, tended toward sexually correct stridency. However, "Will & Grace" (9 p.m. Tuesdays, Channel 3), centering around the warm and wacky friendship between a gay guy, a straight gal and their goofy gay/straight pals, is the only one that, despite its cutting-edge trappings that borrow from "Seinfeld" and "Ellen," often embraces flat-out, smirk-free buffoonery a la "Lucy."

And, oddly enough, mixing and matching from three TV originals makes "Will & Grace" an original in itself. Its hip dynamics plus hammy hysterics equal an intoxicating blend of TV's past and present that will hopefully signal its future.

Far too many new shows in recent seasons have treated the past as poison. They seemed hellbent on abandoning 40-plus years of sitcom conventions -- just the sort of situation for which the cliche throwing out the baby with the bathwater was concocted -- and reinventing the form for a new generation, dumping its tradition of belly laughs for an audience more attuned to ironic mockery ("Seinfeld" ) and sexual boldness ("Ellen") than unguarded laughter ("I Love Lucy").

And while selected shows born of that formula were winners, slavish over-reliance on that style is a mistake -- one that "Will & Grace" artfully avoids by demonstrating that 1999-style topicality and 1959-style comedy can zestfully co-exist. With its marquee gay characters in full-throttle slapstick/pratfall mode instead of the now-standard wink-wink-nudge-nudge ironic posturing of the '90s, "Will & Grace" proves that celebrating the past doesn't negate the present, while being funny doesn't denigrate homosexuality.

Since its debut last season, critics have marveled at how a sitcom with prominent gay characters -- including one of the co-leads -- could dodge the moral maelstrom that murdered "Ellen." But "Ellen" was a study in sexual polemics, framed by a laugh track. "Will & Grace" places a premium on entertainment, which goes a long way toward disarming and declawing social critics.

(A caveat here: This endorsement is in spite of the cast's political activism -- they're appearing in a TV ad opposing a California ballot that upholds marriage as valid only between a man and a woman. The gay rights vibe is well-stated enough in the set-up of the show -- politicizing their ratings success only risks agitating their audience by shoving that old Hollywood liberalism down our throats. You make your point every week, guys -- don't push it.)

"Will & Grace" sports one of the most comedically charged, chemistry-blessed casts on the tube. While the Fab Four of "Seinfeld" (Jerry Seinfeld, Jason Alexander, Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Michael Richards) set the benchmark for '90s sitcom ensembles, their portrayals -- even Richards' whacked-out Kramer -- were underscored by the smirking irony that drove the show. The "Will & Grace" cast, by comparison, represents a throwback to classic un-self-conscious comedy.

Let's start with the most obvious comparison to Lucy: Debra Messing is a sexy dish with a silly streak and the comic chops of a seasoned funny lady. A dexterous physical comedienne, she is a charming mass of bug-eyed, exasperated insecurities. This is an actress unafraid to revel in goofiness while never sacrificing her alluring femininity -- a Lucy hallmark.

Eric McCormack, as Will, Grace's gay roomie, is the more grounded half of this daffy duo, yet he is still capable of sublime flights of comic fancy, as was Desi Arnaz with Lucy. Blessed with pitch-perfect timing and a sarcastic sheen to his voice that can both lightly sting and completely wither, he is a superb reactive comic who can also propel the action.

Messing and McCormack are backed by the most inspired second banana/loons to emerge on TV in years -- think of them as hipper, sexually freer alter egos of the Mertzes.

While McCormack holds down the gay-guy-as-average-Joe role, Sean Hayes as his gayer-than-gay friend Jack is the flaming stereotype joyously pushed, shoved and blasted over the top. The hyper Hayes is sort of a sitcom Tasmanian Devil spinning madly through his every scene, as if he's Dorothy in Oz at a Gay Pride parade. As a queen in pants, he savors every snotty punch line, a funny flourish marking his broad comic delivery.

And finally there's vinegar-voiced Megan Mullally, a treasure as Karen, Grace's straight, snarky, haughty -- and completely clueless -- assistant. With a set of pipes just as tart as Fran Drescher's (but with much more emphasis on funny and much less on annoying) she should be charged with criminal scene stealing in the first degree -- and sentenced to life in front of a TV camera. The small screen practically vibrates with sassy energy whenever she steps into a scene, her presence sucking up attention like a hammy vacuum cleaner. And when she pairs with Hayes, it's glorious comic chaos.

They all add up to a simple equation: Past & Present equals Future. "Will & Grace" equals Funny.

Just do the math.

Croon a Tune: Two Croon-a-Tune titans -- Joe Lacy and Peter Green -- fingered Maureen McGovern as the mystery voice behind the disco-flavored theme to "Angie," the late '70s sitcom about a waitress (Donna Pescow) who falls for a blueblood (Robert Hays) to the delight of the former's family and the dismay of the latter's. The catchy title tune "Different Worlds" -- not to be confused with "The Cosby Show" spinoff "A Different World" -- was a top-20 hit for McGovern in the waning days of the disco era.

Also, a heartfelt Dial File thank-you to Liz Rose, who left this message: "I don't know who the singer is, but I just love this. Our whole family does this together, the teenagers and the adults. It's just a fun time. I'm glad you started doing this again."

So am I, Liz. And I'm also grateful for readers like you and your family.

For the Rose clan and all faithful Croon Tuners, the number to Dial to File this week's TV theme song quiz is 259-4012 (it will pick up after four rings). Name it now. Get named later.

Croon a Tune fame is the name of this Dial File game.

Closing Credits: Cable's Bravo has announced the addition of "Moonlighting," the Bruce Willis/Cybill Shepherd bon mot-a-thon (with a little time left over for detective work) and "Twin Peaks" -- replete with cherry pies, log ladies, dancing dwarfs, slutty corpses, killer BOBs and unfathomable plots -- to its lineup to mark the new year (not to mention decade, century and millennium.)

"Moonlighting" debuts Jan. 2 and "Twin Peaks" premieres Feb. 4. They join "Max Headroom" and "Brooklyn Bridge" under the Bravo banner "TV Too Good For TV."

Which, to follow the logic of this theorem, must mean that these shows are TV That Isn't Actually TV Because If They Were TV They Wouldn't Actually Be On TV, For Which They Are Too Good, But Everything Else On TV Would Be Good Enough For TV But Not Good Enough For Bravo, Which, By Coincidence, Happens To Be On TV, Where TV Is Too Good For TV.

Memorize that. There will be a quiz later.