The best TV reboot of the year? Welcome back to Hank Hill's America
But few TV shows are as ripe for revival as King of the Hill, an acclaimed but often misunderstood animated comedy set in small-town Texas.
Airing for 13 seasons between 1997 and 2010, the show – created by Beavis and Butt-Head 's Mike Judge and The Simpsons writer Greg Daniels – centred on Hank Hill, a no-frills family man who loves America, selling propane and propane accessories, and Ronald Reagan.
If you never watched it, or only caught stray episodes, you'd be forgiven for thinking King of the Hill was a send-up of liberalism, a kind of conservative Simpsons. Which, to some degree, it is – not ideologically but in its tone, keeping its cartoon world fairly grounded.
For one thing, the Hills have five fingers, and Hank (voiced by Judge) isn't one to get himself into Homer Simpson-level hijinks. He doesn't prevent nuclear catastrophe, go to space, or meet hundreds of celebrities – though in one pivotal moment, he's horrified to learn a pre-presidential George W. Bush's handshake is limp, throwing his vote into disarray.
Instead, most episodes see him left perplexed by a changing Texas, typified by his son Bobby (Pamela Adlon) – a brash, effeminate and wonderfully bizarre kid who follows his new obsessions of the week with no shame, be they improv, competitive dog dancing or soccer.
'That boy ain't right' is essentially Hank's catchphrase, and he routinely tries to toughen Bobby up into more of a man. But time and time again, he comes around to letting his son's relative freak flag fly.
Over the past decade, King Of The Hill has developed a cult audience that adores it equally for its desert-dry humour and its moral backbone, guided by Hank's sense of decency. In 2016 The Atlantic called it 'the last bipartisan TV comedy', able to poke fun at the fictional town of Arlen's hick, immigrant, and liberal population in equal measure.
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Sydney Morning Herald
2 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
The best TV reboot of the year? Welcome back to Hank Hill's America
It's been a year dominated by reboots and legacy sequels – of varying quality. For every substantive addition like 28 Years Later, there have been two blatant cash grabs like Happy Gilmore 2. You'd be forgiven for not mustering enthusiasm for yet another reworking of a yesteryear hit. But few TV shows are as ripe for revival as King of the Hill, an acclaimed but often misunderstood animated comedy set in small-town Texas. Airing for 13 seasons between 1997 and 2010, the show – created by Beavis and Butt-Head 's Mike Judge and The Simpsons writer Greg Daniels – centred on Hank Hill, a no-frills family man who loves America, selling propane and propane accessories, and Ronald Reagan. If you never watched it, or only caught stray episodes, you'd be forgiven for thinking King of the Hill was a send-up of liberalism, a kind of conservative Simpsons. Which, to some degree, it is – not ideologically but in its tone, keeping its cartoon world fairly grounded. For one thing, the Hills have five fingers, and Hank (voiced by Judge) isn't one to get himself into Homer Simpson-level hijinks. He doesn't prevent nuclear catastrophe, go to space, or meet hundreds of celebrities – though in one pivotal moment, he's horrified to learn a pre-presidential George W. Bush's handshake is limp, throwing his vote into disarray. Instead, most episodes see him left perplexed by a changing Texas, typified by his son Bobby (Pamela Adlon) – a brash, effeminate and wonderfully bizarre kid who follows his new obsessions of the week with no shame, be they improv, competitive dog dancing or soccer. 'That boy ain't right' is essentially Hank's catchphrase, and he routinely tries to toughen Bobby up into more of a man. But time and time again, he comes around to letting his son's relative freak flag fly. Over the past decade, King Of The Hill has developed a cult audience that adores it equally for its desert-dry humour and its moral backbone, guided by Hank's sense of decency. In 2016 The Atlantic called it 'the last bipartisan TV comedy', able to poke fun at the fictional town of Arlen's hick, immigrant, and liberal population in equal measure.
The Age
2 hours ago
- The Age
The best TV reboot of the year? Welcome back to Hank Hill's America
It's been a year dominated by reboots and legacy sequels – of varying quality. For every substantive addition like 28 Years Later, there have been two blatant cash grabs like Happy Gilmore 2. You'd be forgiven for not mustering enthusiasm for yet another reworking of a yesteryear hit. But few TV shows are as ripe for revival as King of the Hill, an acclaimed but often misunderstood animated comedy set in small-town Texas. Airing for 13 seasons between 1997 and 2010, the show – created by Beavis and Butt-Head 's Mike Judge and The Simpsons writer Greg Daniels – centred on Hank Hill, a no-frills family man who loves America, selling propane and propane accessories, and Ronald Reagan. If you never watched it, or only caught stray episodes, you'd be forgiven for thinking King of the Hill was a send-up of liberalism, a kind of conservative Simpsons. Which, to some degree, it is – not ideologically but in its tone, keeping its cartoon world fairly grounded. For one thing, the Hills have five fingers, and Hank (voiced by Judge) isn't one to get himself into Homer Simpson-level hijinks. He doesn't prevent nuclear catastrophe, go to space, or meet hundreds of celebrities – though in one pivotal moment, he's horrified to learn a pre-presidential George W. Bush's handshake is limp, throwing his vote into disarray. Instead, most episodes see him left perplexed by a changing Texas, typified by his son Bobby (Pamela Adlon) – a brash, effeminate and wonderfully bizarre kid who follows his new obsessions of the week with no shame, be they improv, competitive dog dancing or soccer. 'That boy ain't right' is essentially Hank's catchphrase, and he routinely tries to toughen Bobby up into more of a man. But time and time again, he comes around to letting his son's relative freak flag fly. Over the past decade, King Of The Hill has developed a cult audience that adores it equally for its desert-dry humour and its moral backbone, guided by Hank's sense of decency. In 2016 The Atlantic called it 'the last bipartisan TV comedy', able to poke fun at the fictional town of Arlen's hick, immigrant, and liberal population in equal measure.
The Advertiser
4 days ago
- The Advertiser
Chock full of cameos and callbacks, this sequel is fun but no hole in one
Happy Gilmore 2 (M, 117 minutes, Netflix) 3 stars Happy Gilmore looms so large in the collective memory that it's easy to forget that it's actually a pretty stupid movie. Iconic and genuinely hilarious, yes, but also unquestionably stupid. It's important to remember this going into Happy Gilmore 2. The sequel to the mainstay golf comedy of 1996 is not going to be high-brow in any way. This is an Adam Sandler film we're talking about. With very few exceptions, he makes broad, crass, shouty comedies. They worked incredibly well in the 90s and early 2000s, but have had dwindling success since then. So, is Happy Gilmore 2 worth the watch? Mostly, yes. It has several genuine laugh-out-loud moments and is chock-full of cameos and callbacks. But if you haven't seen the original in a while, or aren't super on top of American culture of late, you might find yourself scratching your head and trying to find the comedy. Taken on its merits alone, without the nostalgia and the impact of famous faces popping up where they're not expected, the film probably doesn't hit the mark. You do need to come in with a certain degree of knowledge and familiarity to get the most out of this film. We pick up with Happy several years after he's given up professional golf. His time on the tour earned him multiple gold jackets and plenty of money and acclaim, but in the years since his retirement he's squandered all his dough and fallen into addiction. He now lives with his daughter Vienna and John Daly (yep, the golfer, seemingly having a ball playing himself), while his four grown sons live elsewhere. They're a tight-knit if chaotic family. Happy, working at a grocery store, is approached by the amusingly named Frank Manatee (Sandler's Uncut Gems director Benny Safdie) who wants him to join his new league that's going to revolutionise the sport, called Maxi Golf. Happy doesn't want to have a bar of it and quickly shuts down this call-up to the barely disguised LIV Golf competition. But when Vienna's dance teacher says she has the skills to attend a prestigious ballet school in Paris, Happy must come out of retirement to pay for her tuition. He ends up qualifying for a special tournament: regular golfers against the Maxi golfers - a battle for the soul of the sport. The film - once again co-written by Sandler - doesn't shy away from the fact that it doesn't know what direction to take. One of the boys asks whether they're fighting to pay for Vivi's school or to save golf, and it's a "por que no los dos" situation. Happy Gilmore 2 is the cheaper, Netflix-ier answer to blockbuster F1, with a whole bevvy of real-life golfers playing themselves in this film, most notable Rory McIlroy and Scottie Scheffler, and given they're sportspeople and not actors, they do a commendable job. The cameos don't stop there, with NFL star Travis Kelce (also known as Taylor Swift's beau), rapper Eminem, musician Post Malone and a range of social media stars making their own appearances. But the biggest surprise is Bad Bunny - credited with his real name, Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio - as Happy's makeshift caddy Oscar. He is a pure delight, and makes every scene better. Comedy could well be his calling. The return of Shooter McGavin is the best thing about the film, with Christopher McDonald absolutely eating the scenery at every opportunity. It's not Happy Gilmore without Shooter McGavin. The film is a real family affair as well, with Sandler's kids and wife, Ben Stiller and his daughter, and even McDonald's daughter all making appearances. Happy Gilmore 2 also sweetly honours the original cast members who are no longer with us, including Carl Weathers, Richard Kiel and even Bob Barker. Happy Gilmore 2 (M, 117 minutes, Netflix) 3 stars Happy Gilmore looms so large in the collective memory that it's easy to forget that it's actually a pretty stupid movie. Iconic and genuinely hilarious, yes, but also unquestionably stupid. It's important to remember this going into Happy Gilmore 2. The sequel to the mainstay golf comedy of 1996 is not going to be high-brow in any way. This is an Adam Sandler film we're talking about. With very few exceptions, he makes broad, crass, shouty comedies. They worked incredibly well in the 90s and early 2000s, but have had dwindling success since then. So, is Happy Gilmore 2 worth the watch? Mostly, yes. It has several genuine laugh-out-loud moments and is chock-full of cameos and callbacks. But if you haven't seen the original in a while, or aren't super on top of American culture of late, you might find yourself scratching your head and trying to find the comedy. Taken on its merits alone, without the nostalgia and the impact of famous faces popping up where they're not expected, the film probably doesn't hit the mark. You do need to come in with a certain degree of knowledge and familiarity to get the most out of this film. We pick up with Happy several years after he's given up professional golf. His time on the tour earned him multiple gold jackets and plenty of money and acclaim, but in the years since his retirement he's squandered all his dough and fallen into addiction. He now lives with his daughter Vienna and John Daly (yep, the golfer, seemingly having a ball playing himself), while his four grown sons live elsewhere. They're a tight-knit if chaotic family. Happy, working at a grocery store, is approached by the amusingly named Frank Manatee (Sandler's Uncut Gems director Benny Safdie) who wants him to join his new league that's going to revolutionise the sport, called Maxi Golf. Happy doesn't want to have a bar of it and quickly shuts down this call-up to the barely disguised LIV Golf competition. But when Vienna's dance teacher says she has the skills to attend a prestigious ballet school in Paris, Happy must come out of retirement to pay for her tuition. He ends up qualifying for a special tournament: regular golfers against the Maxi golfers - a battle for the soul of the sport. The film - once again co-written by Sandler - doesn't shy away from the fact that it doesn't know what direction to take. One of the boys asks whether they're fighting to pay for Vivi's school or to save golf, and it's a "por que no los dos" situation. Happy Gilmore 2 is the cheaper, Netflix-ier answer to blockbuster F1, with a whole bevvy of real-life golfers playing themselves in this film, most notable Rory McIlroy and Scottie Scheffler, and given they're sportspeople and not actors, they do a commendable job. The cameos don't stop there, with NFL star Travis Kelce (also known as Taylor Swift's beau), rapper Eminem, musician Post Malone and a range of social media stars making their own appearances. But the biggest surprise is Bad Bunny - credited with his real name, Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio - as Happy's makeshift caddy Oscar. He is a pure delight, and makes every scene better. Comedy could well be his calling. The return of Shooter McGavin is the best thing about the film, with Christopher McDonald absolutely eating the scenery at every opportunity. It's not Happy Gilmore without Shooter McGavin. The film is a real family affair as well, with Sandler's kids and wife, Ben Stiller and his daughter, and even McDonald's daughter all making appearances. Happy Gilmore 2 also sweetly honours the original cast members who are no longer with us, including Carl Weathers, Richard Kiel and even Bob Barker. Happy Gilmore 2 (M, 117 minutes, Netflix) 3 stars Happy Gilmore looms so large in the collective memory that it's easy to forget that it's actually a pretty stupid movie. Iconic and genuinely hilarious, yes, but also unquestionably stupid. It's important to remember this going into Happy Gilmore 2. The sequel to the mainstay golf comedy of 1996 is not going to be high-brow in any way. This is an Adam Sandler film we're talking about. With very few exceptions, he makes broad, crass, shouty comedies. They worked incredibly well in the 90s and early 2000s, but have had dwindling success since then. So, is Happy Gilmore 2 worth the watch? Mostly, yes. It has several genuine laugh-out-loud moments and is chock-full of cameos and callbacks. But if you haven't seen the original in a while, or aren't super on top of American culture of late, you might find yourself scratching your head and trying to find the comedy. Taken on its merits alone, without the nostalgia and the impact of famous faces popping up where they're not expected, the film probably doesn't hit the mark. You do need to come in with a certain degree of knowledge and familiarity to get the most out of this film. We pick up with Happy several years after he's given up professional golf. His time on the tour earned him multiple gold jackets and plenty of money and acclaim, but in the years since his retirement he's squandered all his dough and fallen into addiction. He now lives with his daughter Vienna and John Daly (yep, the golfer, seemingly having a ball playing himself), while his four grown sons live elsewhere. They're a tight-knit if chaotic family. Happy, working at a grocery store, is approached by the amusingly named Frank Manatee (Sandler's Uncut Gems director Benny Safdie) who wants him to join his new league that's going to revolutionise the sport, called Maxi Golf. Happy doesn't want to have a bar of it and quickly shuts down this call-up to the barely disguised LIV Golf competition. But when Vienna's dance teacher says she has the skills to attend a prestigious ballet school in Paris, Happy must come out of retirement to pay for her tuition. He ends up qualifying for a special tournament: regular golfers against the Maxi golfers - a battle for the soul of the sport. The film - once again co-written by Sandler - doesn't shy away from the fact that it doesn't know what direction to take. One of the boys asks whether they're fighting to pay for Vivi's school or to save golf, and it's a "por que no los dos" situation. Happy Gilmore 2 is the cheaper, Netflix-ier answer to blockbuster F1, with a whole bevvy of real-life golfers playing themselves in this film, most notable Rory McIlroy and Scottie Scheffler, and given they're sportspeople and not actors, they do a commendable job. The cameos don't stop there, with NFL star Travis Kelce (also known as Taylor Swift's beau), rapper Eminem, musician Post Malone and a range of social media stars making their own appearances. But the biggest surprise is Bad Bunny - credited with his real name, Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio - as Happy's makeshift caddy Oscar. He is a pure delight, and makes every scene better. Comedy could well be his calling. The return of Shooter McGavin is the best thing about the film, with Christopher McDonald absolutely eating the scenery at every opportunity. It's not Happy Gilmore without Shooter McGavin. The film is a real family affair as well, with Sandler's kids and wife, Ben Stiller and his daughter, and even McDonald's daughter all making appearances. Happy Gilmore 2 also sweetly honours the original cast members who are no longer with us, including Carl Weathers, Richard Kiel and even Bob Barker. Happy Gilmore 2 (M, 117 minutes, Netflix) 3 stars Happy Gilmore looms so large in the collective memory that it's easy to forget that it's actually a pretty stupid movie. Iconic and genuinely hilarious, yes, but also unquestionably stupid. It's important to remember this going into Happy Gilmore 2. The sequel to the mainstay golf comedy of 1996 is not going to be high-brow in any way. This is an Adam Sandler film we're talking about. With very few exceptions, he makes broad, crass, shouty comedies. They worked incredibly well in the 90s and early 2000s, but have had dwindling success since then. So, is Happy Gilmore 2 worth the watch? Mostly, yes. It has several genuine laugh-out-loud moments and is chock-full of cameos and callbacks. But if you haven't seen the original in a while, or aren't super on top of American culture of late, you might find yourself scratching your head and trying to find the comedy. Taken on its merits alone, without the nostalgia and the impact of famous faces popping up where they're not expected, the film probably doesn't hit the mark. You do need to come in with a certain degree of knowledge and familiarity to get the most out of this film. We pick up with Happy several years after he's given up professional golf. His time on the tour earned him multiple gold jackets and plenty of money and acclaim, but in the years since his retirement he's squandered all his dough and fallen into addiction. He now lives with his daughter Vienna and John Daly (yep, the golfer, seemingly having a ball playing himself), while his four grown sons live elsewhere. They're a tight-knit if chaotic family. Happy, working at a grocery store, is approached by the amusingly named Frank Manatee (Sandler's Uncut Gems director Benny Safdie) who wants him to join his new league that's going to revolutionise the sport, called Maxi Golf. Happy doesn't want to have a bar of it and quickly shuts down this call-up to the barely disguised LIV Golf competition. But when Vienna's dance teacher says she has the skills to attend a prestigious ballet school in Paris, Happy must come out of retirement to pay for her tuition. He ends up qualifying for a special tournament: regular golfers against the Maxi golfers - a battle for the soul of the sport. The film - once again co-written by Sandler - doesn't shy away from the fact that it doesn't know what direction to take. One of the boys asks whether they're fighting to pay for Vivi's school or to save golf, and it's a "por que no los dos" situation. Happy Gilmore 2 is the cheaper, Netflix-ier answer to blockbuster F1, with a whole bevvy of real-life golfers playing themselves in this film, most notable Rory McIlroy and Scottie Scheffler, and given they're sportspeople and not actors, they do a commendable job. The cameos don't stop there, with NFL star Travis Kelce (also known as Taylor Swift's beau), rapper Eminem, musician Post Malone and a range of social media stars making their own appearances. But the biggest surprise is Bad Bunny - credited with his real name, Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio - as Happy's makeshift caddy Oscar. He is a pure delight, and makes every scene better. Comedy could well be his calling. The return of Shooter McGavin is the best thing about the film, with Christopher McDonald absolutely eating the scenery at every opportunity. It's not Happy Gilmore without Shooter McGavin. The film is a real family affair as well, with Sandler's kids and wife, Ben Stiller and his daughter, and even McDonald's daughter all making appearances. Happy Gilmore 2 also sweetly honours the original cast members who are no longer with us, including Carl Weathers, Richard Kiel and even Bob Barker.
