from San Diego:
Creating a hit television sitcom requires talent, instinct and maybe just a little luck. But it isn’t until the taping of the pilot episode that you know whether you’ve created magic or misery. Phil Rosenthal lived through both scenarios with the sitcom he created, “Everybody Loves Raymond.”
Rosenthal’s success story revolves around a TV show about a regular guy (Ray Romano) and his wacky family that ran from 1995 to 2005 on CBS. The show was such a hit, in fact, that the studio wants to re-create a version for Russian audiences, like they had done so successfully with sitcoms like “The Nanny” and “Married With Children.” And so begins Phil Rosenthal’s comedy nightmare, as portrayed in the documentary he wrote and directed, “Exporting Raymond.”
Rosenthal is about as un-Hollywood as you can get. Think of a mix between Bill Gates and Jerry Seinfeld; geeky, sharp and funny with a serious streak when it comes to comedy. These qualities make Rosenthal an endearing guide on this odd journey, even if he is irrationally afraid of kidnappings, poisonings and rickety buildings that cause cancer. (Maybe we should add a little Woody Allen to that personality mix.)
Fears aside, Rosenthal is ready to travel to Russia to re-create “Raymond” using the same formula of mining humor from the everyday lives of average American families. Here’s the problem — this is Russia. Even if Russian families are remarkably similar to Americans, as Rosenthal seems to think they are, that doesn’t mean they want to see something resembling real life on television (and based upon the way Russia is portrayed here, I don’t blame them).
This potential problem doesn’t seem to occur to Rosenthal or the American studio executives brokering the situation until the Russian creative team begins fighting Rosenthal’s advice at every turn. Why cast an average-looking actor for Raymond when you can have a hunk? Why dress his wife in casual clothes if she can clean the house in glamorous garb (or the Russian version of glamorous, which recalls American fashion circa 1988)?
What we get is a cultural standoff, and it’s awkward, nonsensical and really funny. Certainly funnier than the television show that’s coming together inside the rundown industrial building that serves as the television studio. Rosenthal’s exasperated expressions and reactions may make him the comic, but he’s also a tough negotiator who rarely backs down from his vision, even if it would make his life easier. And sometimes it even works.
As enjoyable as the debacle is to watch — especially when Rosenthal interacts with his delightfully flighty parents, the inspiration for Raymond’s parents — there is something slightly disingenuous about the documentary itself. Although he never explicitly says so in the film, it’s clear that Rosenthal took on the project with the goal of turning the experience into a documentary — presumably a funny one. While the Russian way of doing business does create increasingly ridiculous barriers that make for comedy gold, I couldn’t help but wonder how Rosenthal’s desire to make an entertaining documentary might have shaped his actions on camera and in the editing room. There’s no denying the hilarity of these cultural differences and quirky personalities (a TV director who performs music with enema bags as a hobby?), but the whole project seems so outrageously untenable that you have to question the motivation for attempting it all.
While these concerns came to mind more than a few times during the film, they were promptly shoved aside by a genuine laugh at whatever craziness happened next. I don’t think a television writer hopes for anything more than that.
Neat.
In other news, 50 Cats Straight Chillin'.
