Shat Happens

When it comes to acting, William Shatner’s range is roughly equal to his ability to open his eyes wide (what’s up with that?). By all indications, he’s an ass, horrible to work with, and, if his own video blog is any indication, potentially homophobic. And yet, for some reason, I still like the guy. I decided to check out the first two installments of “Shatner’s Raw Nerve,” a new series airing on the Bio channel (short for Biography and not, as many suspect, Biomolecular). Shatner attempts the fine art of hosting his own long-form interview program (and, if media rumors can be counted on as fact, he’s done such a good job that Bio execs nixed the idea of producing any more episodes than they already have… before the first episodes had even aired).

Guest #1: the lovely Valerie Bertinelli. Yes, she’s thin again (though I liked her even when she was a fat load). Yes, she was married to one of them Van Halen boys. Yes, she named her son Wolfgang (she calls him Wolfie). Shatner had no interest in discussing any of those things. His line of questioning focused on the exact moment Bertinelli knew her husband was an addict, and the exact moment Bertinelli knew the marriage was over. And by “focused,” I mean he spent several minutes wiggling around in his seat, asking the same question over and over again, even after it had been answered. To Shatner’s credit, he seemed genuinely curious about those two things. To his detriment, those two things seemed to be all he was interested in. Nothing about “One Day At A Time.” Nothing about the book she wrote. Nothing about “Cafe Americain.”

Guest #2: the enlightened Tim Allen. Tim Allen’s book, “I’m Not Really Here,” first turned me on to quantum physics and the philosophy that exists at the subatomic level. Shatner introduced Allen by mentioning the two had performed Shakespeare together. But again, Shatner ignored potentially interesting topics of philosophy or Shakespeare and hyper-intensively focused on the exact moment Tim Allen chose to seek treatment for his addictions. Near the end of the interview, when Allen held up a cherished memento from his first stand-up appearance, Shatner asked where Allen displayed it in his home. Allen had to virtually combat Shatner’s disinterest to tell what turned out to be a touching story about a place and an event that proved to be a tipping point in his life.

As is often the case with interviewers whose last names aren’t Snyder, Carson, or (occasionally) Stewart, the questions that I wanted answered were never asked. Be that as it may, what I found most fascinating about the show was Shatner’s narrowed line of interrogation. Questions about a person’s talent, personal history, and insight were merely a means to an end for Shatner. What he most wanted to know from his first two guests was what it was like to have experienced the worst possible moments in their respective lives. Within those parameters, he wanted to leave no stone unturned. Shatner’s next guest is scheduled to be porn star Jenna Jameson. I don’t even want to hazard a guess as to what Shatner will ask her.

To watch Shatner fidgeting around in his chair was a bit like watching the innards of a sausage trying to squeeze out of its casing. I don’t think the scuttlebutt has revealed Shatner has Parkinson’s. If he does, I feel for him. If not, somebody needs to tell him to sit still.

This show is an odd duck. From the myopic host to the tall coffee table which obscures the guest from the view of the home audience, something is just a little bit off about this show. But, given that something is just a little bit off about William Shatner, I suppose that is to be expected.