Flight of the Conchords, Season 1

At first I wasn't prepared to let the gonzo splatterama of early Peter Jackson speak for the character and tastes of all New Zealanders (just as I'm sure most Baltimoreans would prefer not to be represented by John Waters), but after viewing the clearly Jackson-inspired Black Sheep (2006), that beguiling tale about an outbreak of vicious weresheep, I was beginning to waver in my conviction that not all Kiwis could possibly be quite so utterly barmy. But it does kinda makes sense. I mean, what happens when you take a fleabitten shipload of Welsh and Scottish nutters, turn them upside down and force them to gather wool for a century at the end of the Earth? Hey, even Australia considers New Zealand a laughable backwater.

So what's a novelty music duo to do but embrace the stereotype? The craziest damn thing about these perpetually shellshocked rubes is that they seem to like being thought of that way. Contrast Australia's designated rep, Mick "Crocodile" Dundee, who is secondly a yahoo but firstly a toothy Harlequin hunk. That's a rather more assured self-image but far less funny, even when the humor draws from the same fish-out-of-water premise. And whereas Mick is competent and canny in his element, one gets the impression that the Conchords (and Murray), for all their sweet sincerity, would be just as adorably out of step back down underer, as if it's impossible to get your bearings on the other side of Oz.

NEW ZEALAND
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