Earvin Johnson's Charm Alone Doesn't Sustain Another Late-Night Show By Tom Shales Washington Post Staff Writer Wednesday, June 10, 1998

Thus began "The Magic Hour," latest entry in the late-night talk show battleground, with the big attraction, in every sense, being Earvin "Magic" Johnson as its host. The syndicated show is produced by Fox and airs here weeknights at 11:30 on Channel 5. It isn't "live" but taped, like other late-night talk shows, no matter what the announcer says at the outset.

Monday night's premiere found the show respectably polished, swift and loud. Why people want loud shows at the end of the day remains a mystery, but apparently they do, because they're all loud now except "Nightline" (and who knows but that one of these nights . . . ). Johnson can be thought of perhaps as the quiet, genial center of the clackety-rackety storm. Like he said, he's no comedian. No entertainer, either. He has to do it all on charm.

There are signs it could possibly work, and the show is certainly better than "Vibe," a recent late-night failure that richly deserved its cancellation; on an episode of "Vibe" the other night, host Sinbad offered a man $100 to brush his teeth with a toothbrush that had been used to clean a toilet. "Magic Hour" seems unlikely to stoop to such amateurish ugliness, but the show also seems at first encounter overwhelmingly unnecessary.

Like "Vibe," Johnson's show takes aim at a younger audience than Jay Leno and David Letterman do, though Johnson is, of course, a hero to fans of all ages. He is also, for the record, the first HIV-positive late-night talk show host, or at least the first one we know about. And yet he radiates healthfulness and zest in his appearance. If anything, he should think about toning down his immense unbridled delight at everything his guests do.

Opening night ratings for a show like this are hardly conclusive, but in New York Johnson did well, his 4.4 rating and 11 percent share of the available audience besting Manhattan's own "Late Show With David Letterman." Johnson did very well in Los Angeles, which seems hardly surprising. What is surprising is that he didn't do better in Washington, where WTTG is a powerful presence and where most Fox fare prospers. Johnson still beat Letterman (who had a measly 1.5/5), but Johnson's 2.1/7 was nothing to crow about, especially after all the preshow hype.

There's one other switch in this show: The host is the straight man and the sidekick is the comic, a complete reversal, of course, of the Johnny Carson and Ed McMahon model. The sidekick comic is the flagrantly unfunny Craig Schumacher, the great white dope. He isn't just unnecessary, he's offensive. On opening night, he said the trouncing that the Chicago Bulls gave the Utah Jazz in one game of the NBA playoffs was "the worst beating on videotape since Rodney King."

It was the most tasteless remark of the evening. You could say that for it anyway.

Truth be told, and sometimes it is, we don't really need another late-night talk show even if it were great, which "Magic Hour" definitely isn't. The only excuse to do a new one, other than the obvious moneymaking potential for the producers, would be if God Himself (or, all right, Herself) were to come down from Heaven and be the host. The heavenly host, as it were. Then we might learn something new. All you could learn from "Magic Hour's" premiere was yet more celebrity slop about Johnson's first guests, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Whitney Houston.

During their segments, Schwarzenegger and Johnson exchanged tiresome mutual encomiums, hailing each other for being, among other things, incredibly wealthy and magnificent humanitarians. Then came a story about Johnson and his guest meeting once in a gym. Johnson was proud to be pressing 300 pounds with both arms, he said, whereas Schwarzenegger could do it with one.

This led Arnold into rhapsodizing about getting a gander at Johnson working out in the same gym with fellow basketball star Wilt Chamberlain, the two of whom he called "the strongest animals I've ever seen." Animals? It sounded even worse with Schwarzenegger's Teutonic accent. It was also unwise to link Johnson with Chamberlain since Chamberlain has become notorious for his promiscuity and his boastfulness about it. This was a real icky moment but Johnson graciously let it pass without comment.

Whitney Houston was a more comfortable guest for Johnson, though he again overdid the gratitude bit, all but groveling at the temperamental diva's feet. Their strangest and most irritating moment came later, when the show returned from one of its gaping commercial breaks to find that Houston was singing with the band – that is, just finishing a song with the band.

"If you're at home, you missed it," Johnson said. "Whitney Houston just thrilled us." If we're at home??? Where the hell else would we be? And who does Johnson think he's doing the show for? Certainly not the easily thrilled shriekers and applauders in his gung-ho studio audience. They would have clapped themselves bloody for a Hostess Twinkie. They went completely nuts with happiness at being there and wishing Johnson well.

He is a man one wishes well, though. He does have extreme likability and has had it as long as he has been in the public eye. Too many remarks and jokes on the opener relied on his stardom with the L.A. Lakers, but in time those will recede and he'll be Magic Johnson, Talk Show Host for real. If the show lasts that long. For now, Johnson's range in the role is severely limited, the studio audience is too shrieky, and Johnson's gigantic eight-button, two-breasted suit made him seem stiff and immobile.

Also included on the premiere was a novelty act such as we used to get on "The Ed Sullivan Show." A fellow in sloppy clothes set various parts of his body on fire and for a finale jumped into a tank of water that was set aflame. He resurfaced unhurt. But what the heck was that all about?

No one could ever call Johnson a crosspatch or a Crabby Appleton. His trademark smile got quite a workout, as did his hand-clapping and laughing at every bon mot, no matter how borderline bon, from his guests. One is tempted to suggest that if he's enjoying the show that much, he should go out and sit in the audience. The questions he asked his guest stars were strictly standard and formulaic.

An old clip of Schwarzenegger in an early appearance on a Lucille Ball sitcom was unreeled (as is often done on Leno's show) and when Houston said she liked to vacuum, a vacuum cleaner was wheeled out from the wings and away she went. She was wearing an odd kind of a dress that looked as if she had already torn it to bits to deprive over-eager fans of making an attempt to do likewise.

It was a tiny delightful moment hyped into a cataclysmic event by overreaction from Johnson and his studio audience. "The Magic Hour" will have to get much, much better if it's going to last, and if Johnson really is going to end viewers' days with a smile and not just a druggy, numbed-out stare.