If reality TV had bloomed in the early 1990s, comedian Andrew Dice Clay surely would have been among the first pop culture icons plucked for his own series.
Like many of today’s reality stars, the Brooklyn bad boy was a brief sensation, and more for his personality than for his talent. He wore his hair tall, sideburns long and a leather jacket with “Dice Rules” in block letters across the back. He was obscene, raucous and unpredictable. Fans were drawn to his thuggish posturing and an act that seemed shockingly profane for the time.
On Feb. 21, 1990, Dice's career topped out with a raucous gig at Madison Square Garden in which he joked about insect rape and his dog giving oral pleasure to a Sunday school teacher. Then he was gone, essentially vanishing from the public eye.
It’s little wonder producers would gamble a reality series on such a character. Dice's unpredictability alone would promise an endless array of delightfully offensive moments. And that's what viewers are led to expect in “Dice Undisputed,” a new VH1 reality series (Sundays, 10 p.m.) that follows the comedian as he plots a comeback.
Dice aims to be bigger than ever, selling out venues like Giant Stadium, bigger houses than he played even when he was on top.
Unfortunately, for the minds behind “Dice Undisputed," all that remains of the 1990 character known as Andrew Dice Clay are the sideburns, and even they are graying.
The Dice we meet in the pilot episode has little resemblance to his wild, younger self (and, for that matter, such combustible reality TV stars like Ozzy Osbourne and Flavor Flav). Gone are the swagger and cigarettes, replaced by insecurities and muscle aches. The expletives that once colored his every sentence have been edited out or buried beneath bleeps.
The new Dice lives in a comfortable home in Los Angeles with his two amiable kids and a loving fiancé, and he plans to start dieting next Monday. Dice simply isn’t dangerous anymore. He’s a dad — and a bit of a softie. At one point, he mildly chastises his fiancé for speaking with an ex-boyfriend, then confides to the camera: “The old me would have ended it right there and then, but it’s not that easy when you’re in love with somebody.”
And therein lies the major flaw of "Dice Undisputed." We get the new Dice, who's not all that interesting, not the old Dice we tuned in for.
We won't get a glimpse of the old Dice in all his flammability until the third episode, which is too late, and especially too late for viewers who never knew him.
Certainly, that scene is vintage Dice. He's being interviewed by a CNN reporter, and the reporter suggests that he isn't the headliner he once was, noting that Dice was running a gym for a period of time. Dice rips into the reporter, excoriating him for even suggesting his career was in decline. With curses flying, he storms off the set. (The CNN clip is hilarious, and already on YouTube.)
But even moments like this begin to sag after a while, and the reason is that there’s nothing at stake for Dice except his ego. There's no dramatic tension. He’s not destitute, no one’s life depends upon his resurgence, and despite his claims, the world isn’t clamoring for his comeback. Dice is simply an entertainer who has known the intoxicating taste of fame and wants another sip. Make that a gulp.
His desire to pack football stadiums is sincere, but it's rather abstract, and by itself is not enough to carry the narrative.
If he were to make it to the Meadowlands, "Dice Undisputed" might well end up being, improbably enough, a classic American story of a second chance.
But what are the odds? It's clear they're slim to none.
Dice’s road manager can’t be bothered to join him when he sets out to play some small comedy clubs in New Jersey and Florida, leaving him in the hands of a dim-witted but harmless back-up manager, Todd.
Dice’s longtime agent, Dennis Arfa, all but laughs at his comeback plans, gently reminding him, “There’s a difference between dreams and fantasies.”
In between the first two episodes, Dice fires his agent. (It’s revealing that Dice’s only act of consequence early on, in which he's his old hotheaded self, wasn't captured on tape.) Soon after he fires Todd, but they reconcile within minutes with a big hug.
"Dice Undisputed" might work if at some level his comedy were still vital. It's not. His new material is hardly an improvement over his old, which itself wasn’t as groundbreaking in 1990 as he says it was.
It's either dirty old man humor or harmless throwaways. On the term fiancé, Dice quips: “I don’t even know what that word means. Anybody ever looked it up anywhere? No, it’s just fancy--fancy for it’s half-over.”
Dice is not the outrageous comedian of 15 years ago, and at best his comeback saga is mindless entertainment. Which is to say, no dice.
