As creator and writer of Vince, Pryor wisely sticks to what he knows - media. Photo / Three
As creator and writer of Vince, Pryor wisely sticks to what he knows - media. Photo / Three
The new comedy Vince sees likeable larrikin Jono Pryor transformed into an arrogant narcissist - the titular Vince - whose career goes into freefall. Karl Puschmann weighs in on whether it lands the jump.
The biggest hurdle to enjoying Three’s new comedy Vince is its star.
For two decades and change, Jono Pryor, the friendliest guy in radio, has been Aotearoa’s merry prankster. An enthused and extremely likable merchant of mass-appeal, PG-13-style, “cheeky schoolboy” humour. Whether on TV shows like Jono and Ben, or the wireless hosting The Hit’s Breakfast with long-time collaborator Ben Boyce and long-time radio personality Megan Papas, Pryor has been a consistently funny and reliably affable presence.
In Vince, he plays a self-absorbed jerk. This is like casting Bart Simpson as The Office’s David Brent. Sure, he can hypothetically play the role, but can you believe him in it? Can you — and, he — clear that hurdle?
As creator and writer of Vince, Pryor wisely sticks to what he knows. The show is set in the wonderful world of television with its big egos and big characters. Pryor plays the titular Vince, a professionally likable host of a fluffy breakfast TV show called Morning Glory.
Pryor plays Vince, the host of a fluffy breakfast TV show called Morning Glory. Photo / Three
A star of the network, he is the sort of personality plastered on billboards and seen laughing and dancing awkwardly with the channel’s weatherman in promo ads for the channel. Entertainingly benign and beloved by the nation, he’s tipped to be next in succession to take over the station’s primetime evening show.
But when the cameras stop rolling his ego takes over and he becomes an arrogant narcissist who is largely disinterested in the people around him. This includes his estranged wife and Morning Glory co-host Lou, played by Anna Julienne, and their precocious daughter Evie, played by Ruby Hall.
But his trajectory goes into freefall when he’s unexpectedly down-trou’d while hosting the live-to-air fundraiser, Cash for the Cancer Kids and left displaying his manhood to the nation.
Vince's career tanks after hosting a live-to-air fundraiser. Photo / Three
The fallout is immediate, with Vince labelled a pervert, cancelled on social media and stood down from his Morning Glory hosting duties. Making matters worse, a mum of one of the cancer kids sues him for the “emotional trauma” caused by her son’s exposure to his, er, exposure.
The series follows Vince trying to clear his name, win the lawsuit and get his job back. Of course, being completely self-absorbed his attempts are nothing short of disastrous. There’s a celebrity apology video in which he hawks a sponsored skincare product and an attempt to storm on to Morning Glory that ends with him being pepper-sprayed live on TV. Both of these are very funny, with Pryor’s insincerely over-earnest apology being a spot-on send-up of the genre, and the fight scene displaying some decent physical comedy.
The idea of the on-screen nice guy being an off-screen prick is nothing new, but Vince offers a solidly entertaining spin on the trope with Pryor keeping the gags and zings coming at pace.
It’s obvious the script has been finely tuned and calibrated to cram in as many jokes as possible. Not all land, but the jokes are varied and the majority are at least humorous and at best proper laugh-out-loud. A strained conversation by torchlight between Vince and his boss (played by Blair Strang) is just one example of when the show really hits.
Vince presents a new persona for Pryor. Photo / Three
Vince also intrigues by utilising the old trick of “questions first, answers later”. The show opens with a near-naked Vince inside a superette performing an atoning act of self-flagellation involving his eyes and a large scoop of cayenne pepper. The whys and WTFs are left to be answered later, however, as after Vince runs screaming in agony from the store the show rewinds two weeks to the day of the fateful fundraiser and his wardrobe malfunction. Each episode reveals a little more of this puzzle before rejoining the main plot. It may be an old trick, but Pryor uses it effectively to snag your interest and keep you watching.
Add in a burgeoning love story full of complications, an oncoming parental awakening and a clear roadmap for Vince’s redemption arc, and you have an extremely well-rounded and entertaining show.
Like I said, this all leaves Pryor and his firmly entrenched, nice-guy persona as the show’s only hurdle. But once you’ve cleared it — and its opening scene does an excellent job at biffing you over — then it’s a straight dash into a series that is funny, intriguing and clearly taking its cues from the premium comedy shows of HBO and the BBC. Happily, Vince also largely hits them.
Vince screens at 8.30pm on Thursdays on Three, and is available for streaming on Three Now.
Karl Puschmann is the culture editor and an entertainment columnist for New Zealand’s Herald. His fascination lies in finding out what drives and inspires creative people.
