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'Cosby': A Comedy That Fills the BillBy Tom ShalesWashington Post Staff Writer Monday, September 16, 1996; Page D01 Bill Cosby has to run against his own record. "The Cosby Show" was not only one of the best but also one of the truly defining TV comedies of the '80s. No one is likely to find "Cosby," his latest attempt, to be the equal of the old show. But it does share one obvious major advantage: its star. And it gets off to at least a fitfully amusing start tonight on CBS, leading off the network's two-hour comedy block at 8 on Channel 9. You'll dislike (if not hate) yourself in the morning if you don't drop by for a look. Cosby's Cliff Huxtable was an affluent doctor living in Manhattan and married to a lawyer. His Hilton Lucas is a 60-year-old factory worker laid off in a recent massive cutback and living in Queens, Archie Bunker's old stomping ground. Both Cliff and Hilton see the world through Cosbyesque eyes, and that's what counts. It's hard to get a handle on what makes Hilton tick or what might make the show click from the uneven opener, however. Clearly, he's getting on the nerves of wife Ruth, played by stalwart Phylicia Rashad, who of course was Mrs. Huxtable, too. He putters around the house or recounts in agonizing detail a spat he had with the dry cleaner or fails rather miserably in his assignment to watch a little girl's pet turtle. But we don't get a very good feel for his philosophy or outlook or even his disposition. He's not really crotchety, as was the hero of the British comedy on which this series was based, but not devil-may-care, either. Apparently the family can survive just fine without Hilton's income because there's little if any discussion of financial problems. Just when the show seems adrift in terminal if amiable aimlessness, in twirls Madeline Kahn as Pauline, friend and co-worker to Ruth, consummate busybody and dispenser of dubious wisdom, and the show takes on bright new life. Kahn and Cosby share slapstick moments involving, of all things, a suicide note, and reach dizzying heights of hilarity. Based on the pilot, it looks as though executive producers Tom Werner and Marcy Carsey (who also did "The Cosby Show") will want to play up the Cosby-Kahn relationship, which puts Rashad in an awkwardly expendable position. It also remains to be seen whether the audience will accept Cosby as out of work and blue-collar, since we all know he is worth millions. One reason "The Cosby Show" succeeded so hugely might have been that it reassured white America about the status of blacks and, symbolically, of other minorities; the Huxtables experienced no economic hardship, prejudice or racial stereotyping. "The Cosby Show" was tremendously if deceptively reassuring. "Cosby" is much less so, yet there's no particular anger to it, either. No one watches a sitcom for the scenery, but it ought to be mentioned that the modest Lucas home is particularly well realized by the art department and, in addition, there's a street set that is warm and handsome and evocative of the early days of live TV. The production is strictly first-class. The star himself looks great -- mountainous and iconic and huggable. When all else fails, there's always the pleasure of his company to fall back on. But that can go only so far. The writing will have to improve and the characters become more clearly defined for the show to succeed in any sense of that term. Cosby's return to situation comedy should be an occasion for cheers. "Cosby" is good merely for smiles and laughs, but those are always welcome. Maybe it's like the difference between a catchy tune and a deeply haunting melody. At the moment, "Cosby" is the former -- fun while it lasts but hard to remember a few minutes later.
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