TV REVIEWS : ‘Poundstone Show’ Lacks Clear Concept

It’s the kind of thing that you’d prefer to see worked out before a show airs. But “The Paula Poundstone Show” is a series in search of a concept.

A plan, a good joke, something to justify its consumption of an hour of prime time.

Neither ABC nor Poundstone had ever been able to supply a definition of this series that went beyond “comedy show.” And no wonder. Arriving at 10 tonight on Channels 7, 3, 10 and 42, Poundstone’s amorphous premiere flies by the seat of her striped pants. And crashes.

Poundstone’s best attribute as a comic is the spontaneity of her playful irreverence, sprayed darts of wit that give the appearance of being unscripted, wisecracks made almost as an afterthought. She’s a sort of comedic Columbo: Oh, by the way. . . .

Yet, stretched across an hour, this technique produces so many gaps that your thoughts constantly wander. Thus, being a viewer here becomes an excruciating exercise that requires patience--patience that goes unrewarded. Even Poundstone’s studio audience is unable to generate much more than a polite buzz in responding to the spaceyness of the humor. Like, except for setting a modern record for prime-time performer saying “you guys” and “um,” what is this, anyway?

You can see how some of the writing might have seemed inventive or at least promising on paper: Open the show with Poundstone giving the audience a tour of her house. Have some stuffy, high-powered economists expound their theories while spinning around on a ride at an amusement park. Have Poundstone review ABC’s past miseries in her time slot (9 p.m. on subsequent Saturdays), and have her parody the Nielsen ratings. And, oh yes, have Sam Donaldson give a reading.

Most of the bits merely go nowhere or are just embarrassing. But Donaldson is an especially memorable debacle, an artistic holocaust on a par with Chevy Chase getting serenaded by Goldie Hawn on the premiere of his (now deceased) Fox late-night show.

As for Poundstone, anyone who calls Sam Donaldson “mister” and “sir” can’t be all good. The impression you have here is that she isn’t all bad, either, only that she’s just not the kind of performer who can carry a show by herself. Although carrying this clunker would give anyone a hernia.