I heard more than one student comment on the grotesque nature of CBS's new sitcom, "Baby Bob," long before the first episode aired. I couldn't blame them, having been unwillingly subjected to the show's previews weeks in advance myself -- disturbing snippets of a cute infant croaking well-crafted sentences to his parents in an air-headed Oscar the Grouch voice.
The brilliant premise behind "Baby Bob" is a talking baby who is remarkably witty. Adhering to the tradition of thematic excess and overkill in movies and television, producers hand us "Baby Bob" after a long line of popular talking-baby shows. No one can forget the "Look Who's Talking" films, Nickelodeon's "Rugrats" and, of course, "Child's Play."
This show, however, adds its own surprising twist to the amazing talking-baby formula for success. Bob does not talk to babies only. Similarly, his thoughts are not projected inside his head alone. Precious little Bob can actually communicate with his parents.
The question is, do we really need more talking-baby shows? "Look Who's Talking" was a family comedy that could be enjoyed by parents and children alike, being that there were few "illicit" sex scenes dangerous to the pure minds of youth. Those that were sprinkled throughout the film were vague enough to pass by most 11- and 12-year-olds.
"Baby Bob" attempts to win over older audiences by combining a very loose sense of parental experience and responsibility with lewd humor. The writers probably thought young parents would forget daily stresses and get a kick out of a talking baby, although the real response to such "genius" has yet to be seen.
As they bounce along their petty, insignificant lives, Bob's typical yuppie parents appear almost as grotesque as their verbally accelerated six-month-old son. Bob's mother, Lizzy, a crazy redheaded vixen played by Joely Fisher, spends the first episode absorbed in gossip and shamelessly haggling over an overpriced painting in a gallery. His father, Walter (Adam Arkin), spends the majority of his time drudging up sub-par acting, excepting his perfectly timed execution of cheap, sexual humor. Interestingly, Fisher and Arkin both enjoyed Broadway stints before turning to primetime television.
Not quite compassionate parents, the plot of episode one appropriately revolved around the exploitation of their son's gift, with a strong exaggeration on their initial lack of morals and eventual guilt. I found myself appalled as poor Bob eavesdropped for his parents, then relayed a conversation involving breast implants, naively asking, "What's a pimp?"
Obviously there's some discrepancy in the fact that Bob can chatter off 1,000 words a minute and have no idea what he's talking about. Despite this minor setback, however, there was something darkly ironic and almost funny with the final product.
The loving parents also used Bob to uncover a legal scam and relay to them the trash-talking their "friends" engaged in after they left the room at a dinner party. Bob managed to pull this all off, of course, because no one pays attention to what they say in front of a stupid baby.
When they're not using Bob to do their dirty work, his parents conveniently forget about him. As if they don't leave him sitting around alone enough to listen in on their conversations, he remains absent in a number of daytime "bedroom scenes."
Anyone with the audacity to write a sitcom combining the adorable purity and ignorance of an infant with sick sexual innuendo, betrayal and corporate corruption deserves some kind of award.
On the surface, "Baby Bob" is just plain scary, but perhaps rummaging through the trash would reveal some hidden metaphor for the disregard of lost innocence or a different, underlying social commentary.
As "Baby Bob" drew to a close, I found myself asking, "Should I search for satirical meaning within a CBS sitcom?" Then I abruptly came to my senses, kicked myself and turned the channel to a safer network, which employed dirty humor without the deflowering of innocents.
