Commentary

'Animal' House: The Wild Life Of A Seattle Pet Patrol

A new workplace comedy about a unit of animal-control officers tries very hard to make the world of pet police seem interesting, and also funny.

In the real world, the profession may, in fact, be a very worthwhile, rewarding career to pursue.

The workplace may even be a congenial environment characterized by camaraderie and a sense of mutual purpose, the goal of which seems to be to find ways for humans and animals to coexist.

However, in the workplace of the unit in “Animal Control,” the principal occupation of the co-workers is hurling insults at each other.

As noted here many times, this is the state of TV comedies today: Sarcasm and insults have replaced the kinds of farcical situations and comedic interplay between characters that once characterized our sitcoms (the best ones, that is).

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Not that there is anything wrong with a one-camera workplace comedy. “The Office” was a classic. “Parks and Recreation” was a classic too.

In bringing the comedy, both “The Office” and “Parks and Rec” did not forget to bring the heart too. In the final analysis, no matter how nutty the storylines, the characters were relatable. We liked them.

No such heart appears to be in evidence in the first one-and-a-half episodes of “Animal Control” that I previewed last week. Instead, it was all snark.

The show concerns itself with this Animal Control Department unit in which the requisite grizzled veteran is played by Joel McHale (above photo, center).

He is the most unlikable of the show’s core characters -- an angry misanthrope who finds fault with everybody and, by all appearances, doesn’t give a rat’s patoot about his job.

The other denizens of this office are nothing new. They include the family man who stresses about his home life, the unit’s insecure overseer, the tyrannical office manager, a senior officer who everyone makes fun of behind his back, and a single party girl who cannot take care of her own dog. Get it? She works in Animal Control and cannot even manage her own pet.

The only character who displays any glimmer of hope in this dark, unhappy world of animal-control drones is a newcomer to the unit who was once an international snowboarding star.

Not surprisingly, much of the show’s comedy stems from a variety of animal emergencies.

In the premiere episode, one of them concerns a suburban woman who maintains a flock of ostriches in her backyard (photo above).

When Joe McHale and his new partner, the snowboarder rookie, arrive at the scene, mayhem ensues. But the bit fizzles.

In another emergency, a wild animal -- possibly a badger, an otter or a raccoon -- infiltrates a suburban home and sends the homeowners into a frenzy.

This time, the snowboarder answers the call and in his effort to evict the critter, causes extensive damage to the home. This bit was better than the ostrich encounter.

Yet another animal encounter involves a fluffle of pet rabbits who have partaken of their owner’s stash of psychedelic mushrooms. Mayhem ensues again.

Suggestion to the writers of “Animal Control”: Why not focus almost exclusively on cats and dogs? That’s how you build viewership in America.

One more note on “Animal Control” -- the show is apparently open for in-show business. In the premiere episode, one character asks another: “What detergent do you use?”

The answer: “Tide Liquid Pods! They’ll get out anything!’

 “Animal Control” premieres on Thursday (February 16) at 9 p.m. Eastern on Fox.

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