SHAUN MICALLEF'S ONLINE WORLD AROUND HIM                             Back               Home
	Barely Legal by Michael Nolan Not Only Black and White Issue 65 March 2003 In his new sitcom, sketch show supreme Shaun Micallef plays a buffoonish solicitor. Any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental, writes Michael Nolan. Ever since eschewing a legal career a decade ago to become a comedy writer for the likes of Full Frontal, Shaun Micallef has been a welcomely subversive presence on Australian television. Whether on his lunatic eponymous sketch show, as a left field romantic interest on SeaChange (“the thinking woman’s idiot, perhaps”) or hosting the Logies, Micallef has developed a paradoxical persona, blending intelligence with stupidity, polish with ineptitude. A round peg in a square hole, he fits in but there’s something not quite right. Making its debut on the ABC this month is Welcher and Welcher, Micallef’s first foray into sitcoms, in which he nods to his former profession by starring as a bumbling solicitor Quentin Welcher. The 40 year old says he has reined in his deconstructionist tendencies in favour of fast-paced, sophisticated comedy, with characters drawn from real life. Considering he has no track record at writing narrative comedy, the ABC might have been considered game in agreeing to produce the series off the script. “That’s the strength of the ABC,” he proposes. “Either their negligence in allowing me to do these things without doing a pilot, or their trust in the talent they hire.” His initial approach (“I stupidly just wrote whatever I thought was funny”) included so many set requirements that it was financially impossible to shoot it in a studio with a live audience, as intended. The happy outcome was the faster show that resulted from not pausing for laughs, leaving time for extra scenes to be added after shooting- a rare luxury in television. “I’d like to think it’s the best thing I’ve done,” he says. “I think it will be refreshing. Like a towelette.” It was Full Frontal that launched the tall, silver haired alumnus of Adelaide University’s Footlights review onto our screens. Fortunately, he and long-time writing collaborator Gary McCaffrie were soon allowed to operate somewhat independently. The Adelaide contingent, including actor Francis Greenslade, really let fly when Micallef got his own show on the ABC in ’98. Wrecking as much well-mannered havoc as the deliberately varied pronunciation of his name, the show changed each season from The Micallef Program, to the more Aunty-friendly The Micallef Programme, and finally The Micallef Pogram. It mixed crazed sketches with the off-kilter Micallef as a sort of malfunctioning Letterman, hosting a “late show” that listed wildly while guests and co-presenters struggled to stay afloat. The freshness of the fast-paced humour came from not knowing where the joke would come from; the comedy was by turns verbal, then physical, abstract then slapstick, cleverly satirical then childish. It was a long way from the relentless tv show parodies that make up much Australian sketch comedy, and was rewarded with Logies for Most Outstanding Comedy in 2000 and 2002. “I would have thought it was impossible to sort out an outstanding program for this field,” he deadpanned, when receiving the statuette. “Though it obviously is possible.” Of his performance as the award ceremony’s host in 2001 – witty but not as barbed as Andrew Denton’s famed stints – Micallef says, “I think I managed to get away with it, which is my standard of success.” Elsewhere, he’s woven a subtle anarchy during appearances on The Panel, contributed “indulgent” columns to The Age, and appears in two forthcoming films (The Honorable Wally Norman and Tony Martin’s Bad Eggs). He now confirms the excited rumours that he is discussing the production of a live variety-style show with the Nine Network. “The idea of having no editing of the material, and having to get it right – or not, and having to cope with the fact it wasn’t right – that seemed like a fun thing to do,” he says enthusiastically, evoking memories of Mick Molloy’s ill-fated foray. “You could die quite horribly. And I’m attracted to that.”