Having decided a few years back that she missed doing weekly television–and reluctant to return in some “Grandma Goes to College” sitcom dreck–Burnett fixed upon the notion of a comedic anthology. But when she pitched her idea to the networks, she recalls, “eyes glazed over. In network circles, anthology is referred to as the “A-word’. " Then last year Disney chairman Michael Eisner called her with a spookily prescient proposal: would Carol Burnett be interested in starring in a comedic version of, uh huh, “The Loretta Young Show”?
“Carol & Company” deftly exploits Burnett’s genius for inhabiting a limitless range of characters, especially the blissfully loony. Like, for instance, Veta Mae Johnson, who regularly communicates with extraterrestrial beings through a battered smoke detector. Or Janet Peters, a soignee Broadway playwright who’s secretly addicted to dumb practical jokes–such as tacking up a picture of her son on the post-office wall (“I just wanted you to be wanted,” she apologetically informs him).
Burnett’s vintage zaniness, however, has taken on a dark (and daring) new edge. A skit about a sex-altered former quarterback who shows up in female garb at his/her high-school reunion shifted effortlessly from hilarity to pathos. Burnett ends up confronting a disbelieving former fiancee (Swoosie Kurtz) in the ladies room. “I was two people living in one body,” she softly explains. Tearfully blurts Kurtz: “Well, one of you should have called me.” It’s comedy that leaves a gulp in the throat.
Tough times: Perhaps Burnett the Performer’s blackish humor can be traced to the traumas endured by Burnett the Person. Since her old show closed, she’s witnessed the breakup of her 20-year marriage to producer Joe Hamilton and her oldest daughter’s three-year treatment for drug abuse. Burnett has also used therapy to confront some personal demons, including her rage toward her alcoholic parents and a resultant urge to hide her anger behind a mask of perennial good cheer (she calls it “People Pleaser’s Disease”). “I couldn’t understand what my parents were going through,” she recalls. “I thought it was something I had done. So I tried to be as quiet and as cooperative as I could be. Just a little caretaker.”
Though the post-therapy Burnett speaks up and walks taller, she’s still the consummate perfectionist. Executive producer Matt Williams says that Burnett approaches every script as an actress first and a comedian second. “She never asks, “Where are my jokes?’,” marvels Williams. “She’s always interested in the character.” Unfortunately, the “Company” part of “Carol & Company” works only sporadically. Burnett’s support troops don’t play in the same league as a Harvey Korman or a Tim Conway, which may explain why some skits seem at least five minutes too long.
Ask the show’s star whether its success has any downside and you get a surprise: Burnett longs to do a guest gig on ABC’s “Twin Peaks” (perhaps as the Log Lady’s sister). But since NBC will put her series up against “Twin Peaks” in the fall, that hardly seems likely. Ah, but never underestimate Carol Burnett’s optimistic outlook. “If we’re canceled,” she cheerfully muses, “maybe then I could go on and be a guest.” Golly. That’s so decent of her it’s positively perverse. David Lynch would love this woman. Of course, loving Carol Burnett is a national habit. Just when we forget we’re hooked, it all comes back.
