Back in 2007, my brother introduced me to Flight of the Conchords,
an HBO comedy about a pair of awkward New Zealanders who come to New
York City in hopes of making it big as a folk duo. Jemaine Clement, a
big lug with a deep voice and thick glasses who starred in a string of
memorable Outback Steakhouse commercials, and Bret McKenzie, whose
delicate features and soft voice landed him a role as an Elf in Lord of the Rings, play fictionalized versions of themselves in this hilarious, albeit sadly short-lived, show.
This January, I bought the second and final season of Flight of the Conchords,
which, at ten episodes, is even shorter than the first. I’d previously
seen one of the episodes online, but since we don’t get HBO, I counted
on catching the rest on DVD. It was a worthwhile investment.
The beginning of the second season finds Jemaine and Bret attempting to
manage themselves after their hapless manager, Murray Hewitt (Rhys
Darby), diverts most of his attention to his new act, the Crazy Dogs.
They soon discover just how much they don’t know about the music
business, and the episode ends with the three gaining a renewed
appreciation for each other. Darby remains impeccable as the hopelessly
naive and ineffectual Murray, who in many ways can be considered a third
member of the group.
Season one is stuffed with goofy, catchy
tunes, rendering season two a bit sparse by comparison. While Bret and
Jemaine, already a band before the show began, had plenty of material to
draw from initially, they had used most of it by the end of the first
season, forcing them to produce a lot of new material, most of which
doesn’t make quite as much of an impression as the earlier songs.
Probably my favorite ditty of the season is Friends, from Murray Takes It to the Next Level,
in which Murray decides it’s time to hang out with the guys as a buddy.
This mellow, nearly a cappella ode to friendship is upbeat and
harmonious, in the style of a barbershop quartet. Along with a great
sound, it includes several clever descriptions of what constitutes a
friend, and I like it enough to forgive the one crude line.
Unfortunately, low-brow humor isn’t that hard to find in season two. In
season one, they mostly keep things fairly innocent, or at least take
things no further than awkward innuendo. But in season two, it’s harder
to forget this aired on cable rather than on one of the big networks.
On the other hand, Bret and Jemaine remain riotously inept, so their
attempts to be seductive generally fail spectacularly, particularly in A New Cup.
While this is probably the most risque episode of the season, it’s also
one of the best, thanks to an absurd premise that confirms just how
unsuccessful these two really are, a zany side story about Murray’s
decision to invest the band’s meager funds with a Nigerian businessman
who contacted him over e-mail and a tragi-comic conclusion that serves
as a metaphor for their lives.
The one episode that I saw ahead of time was The Prime Minister, which I’d highly anticipated because I knew it featured Art Garfunkel.
While his actual appearance is very brief, it’s quite amusing,
especially considering the events leading up to it - events that involve
Bret and Jemaine getting a gig as a Simon and Garfunkel tribute band
and Jemaine hooking up with a girl who insists that he continue to dress
as Art Garfunkel whenever she is in his company. It includes perhaps my
favorite line of the season, to Murray: “So we look like some Simon and
Garfunkel look-alikes who don’t look like Simon and Garfunkel?”
Additionally, it introduces the magnificent character of New Zealand’s
Prime Minister Brian (Brian Sergent), who is even dopier than Murray and
makes one start to wonder whether all Kiwis are a bit daft. While I was
disappointed that there were no Simon and Garfunkel-style songs here
(just very brief manglings of Scarborough Fair and Bright Eyes), Bret’s random karaoke performance of a Korean love song has some of the funniest (subtitled) lyrics of the season.
Each episode has something to recommend it, whether it’s an appearance by LOST and Ugly Betty’s
Alan Dale, adding to his haughty boss repertoire as the Australian
consulate leader who bullies Murray, or a disastrous attempt by Jemaine
to help Bret prove himself chivalrous to a love interest. Kristen Schaal
continues to be uncomfortably overzealous as Mel, the duo’s lone fan,
as evidenced in the episode in which she presents the guys with
disturbing portraits of themselves. The season - and series - ends in a
way that feels very fitting for this saga of these chumps who will never
let life get them down, despite a steady stream of failures.
While I’m sad to see the show go, I’m happy to know that Flight of the
Conchords lives on, and I hope to catch them on tour one of these days.
Until then, I’ll be content to giggle my way through the 22 episodes of
their wonderfully quirky comedy.
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