According to Netflix, The Hawk, created by Will Ferrell, Harper Steele, and Chris Henchy, is "goofy," and Wikipedia refers to it as a "comedy." Why, then, do you find yourself growing sleepy throughout much of the series' runtime? To be fair, there are moments here that elicit a few chuckles, and most of them come courtesy of Molly Shannon, who should simply be declared the main attraction of...well, whatever this is. It's not that Shannon, as Stacy, is more alert and expressive (she is!); it's also the fact that she gives her coarse dialogue a lively, vivid spin. When she threatens to split her husband, Lonnie's (Will Ferrell), head open and take a dump inside it (they are in the middle of a divorce), you respond with a mix of shock and amusement thanks to the bitterness, details, and gestures with which Stacy delivers the line. There are other such colorfully crude warnings that Stacy dispenses forcefully, which can be compiled, turned into a three-or-so-minute-long clip, and released online. That short video might just be more entertaining than this ten-episode-long comedy.
I admire how The Hawk portrays Lonnie as a self-centered, careerist, overconfident, yet talented golfer who is so laser-focused on being great in his professional field that he ends up sacrificing his personal relationships. He doesn't think twice before beating his own son, Lance (Jimmy Tatro), on the golf course, and doesn't regret missing the funeral of his long-time friend, driver, and caddie, if going there means letting go of his chance to enter the PGA Tour and eventually the US Open. Lonnie is surely not a very likable character, but that isn't really a problem. I would argue that we need more unlikable protagonists in our shows and movies. No, the problem is that Lonnie just isn't as funny as he thinks he is. Ferrell plays him as a loudmouth fool who constantly chitter-chatters and seems to believe that his incessant talking will somehow yield the occasional punchline. The moments when he even remotely feels funny are the ones where we get a peek inside his mind. Those "inner" visuals are an extension of his self-centeredness but are displayed like a hilariously cheap and colorful music video. At one point, Lonnie tries to manipulate those inner thoughts to blind himself to his son's difficulties.
It's one of the few scenes that lands effectively in a series where most things simply look noisy. On top of that, The Hawk carelessly tosses away characters and plot points as if it wants to adorn itself with the label of "disposable algorithmic shit." Natalie (Katelyn Tarver), Lance's fiancée, has an uneasy relationship with Stacy, where both women attempt to capture Lance's affection exclusively for themselves. Here's one example: Natalie wants Lance to kiss her after winning a game rather than his mother, Stacy. This tension, though, leads nowhere particularly interesting, and Natalie is dismissed altogether from the series after a reveal. That reveal, too, carries no real weight other than paving the way for Natalie's exit. Sam (Fortune Feimster), Lonnie's new caddie, has a rough past. She has also been to prison. A shady-looking man tails her and puts a "U O Me" sticker on Lonnie's bus. Given that Lonnie is dismissed from the game after his earlier caddie's death in Episode 1, you think Sam's past would catch up to her, lead to her arrest at a crucial moment, and once again put Lonnie's dream in jeopardy.
"Well, you thought wrong," The Hawk utters blithely. With this same blitheness, that shady-looking man's identity is disclosed, and Sam's past and present duties are laid aside. That "U O Me" sticker? It's curiously never mentioned or discussed—did Lonnie not see it, or did Sam tear it away before he could? Given the "I don't care" tone of The Hawk, it's best represented visually by the character of Radford (David Hornsby), Stacy's current lover. Nothing seems to move or jolt him. When Stacy confesses her infidelity to him, he simply...smiles. Radford might as well be a ghost. His presence means nothing. He seems mentally checked out of his surroundings, and you would have to mentally check out, too, to sit through this dud of a comedy. Because if you begin to apply your brain to it, you would be forced to ask questions like, "Who is this show really made for?" and "What is it actually saying—that is, if it's saying anything at all?"
Does it want to preach the virtue of prioritizing your family at the cost of reaching great professional heights? Are we meant to applaud Lance for cheating? Lonnie dedicates his whole life to golf, and yet when he learns that his son lied to him and snatched away his dream, he merely laughs and praises Lance for defeating him on his own field. This might just be the stupidest climax I have watched recently. It's frustrating, not uplifting or inspiring. Then again, is it meant to be either uplifting or inspiring? I don't know. I confess I am not sure why The Hawk was made or what its creators intended it to be. The only definitive thing is that it's meant to be funny. Unfortunately, it fails to do its core job properly. Hawks are fierce birds known for their exceptional eyesight. If, as a viewer, you possess sharp eyesight, you will notice how bad The Hawk is. It's not meant to be enjoyed; it's meant to be forgotten very, very quickly. What you can take away from the series is that if you have a family that's exasperated by your professional ambitions and doesn't mind tricking you into losing the game you love wholeheartedly, you're better off living alone and independently without harboring sentimental thoughts about that family. Or maybe don't bother starting a family if you're so absorbed by the demands of your dreams that you become selfish. In any case, don't be like Lonnie. Ah, now I finally understand why he's meant to be unlikable in the series.
Final Score - [3/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times