Hollywood's favorite mullet is back and more heinous than ever. Kenny Powers, the larger−than−life character assumed by Danny McBride, has returned for the third and final season of the HBO series "Eastbound & Down."
Since the show's conception in 2009, loyal Powers lovers have exalted the flame−throwing miscreant for his hyperbolic narcissism, his slovenly, '80s−inspired appearance, his utter disregard for and exploitation of his fellow man and his God−given talent on a baseball diamond. With a sagging beer belly, two flabby drumsticks for arms and a propensity for consuming hard drugs and marijuana, Kenny is a far cry from the romanticized picture of a professional athlete.
But throughout the show's run, the volatile main character has taken on a life of its own, appearing on his own HBO−licensed clothing line and filming a string of hilarious advertisements for K−SWISS.
Loosely based on ill−fated pitcher John Rocker, the former Atlanta Braves' reliever who catapulted to nationwide notoriety after some highly publicized, racially charged and homophobic comments, Powers' tragic decline has been chronicled from his World Series victory to his not−so−humbling return to Shelby, N.C.
In season one, Powers accepted a job as a gym teacher in his hometown, pledging to teach the children to follow his reckless example while simultaneously preparing for an improbable baseball comeback. Along the way, Kenny rekindled his high school romance with the buxom April (Katy Mixon) and recruited his subservient, dimwitted assistant, Stevie Janowski (Steve Little).
Then, in season two, Kenny fled to Mexico to escape the utter heartbreak of a failed return to the Major Leagues with the Tampa Bay Rays. There, Kenny bided his time enthralling Mexican audiences and spreading the American ideals of freedom, patriotism and excessive showboating while pitching for the Mexican baseball team Los Charros.
Now, in the first three episodes of the third season, Kenny has made the pilgrimage back to the motherland, throwing pure heat for the Double−A Myrtle Beach Mermen while trying to sort out his personal life with April and their infant child, Toby.
With Will Ferrell and Adam McKay attached as executive producers, "Eastbound" has frequently been graced with hysterical cameos. Craig Robinson (of "The Office" fame) drew constant laughs as Powers' heavy−hitting nemesis, Reg Mackworthy, and Ferrell himself has reprised his season−one role as Ashley Schaeffer, the silver−haired, sharp−tongued car dealer, in the current season.
Joining the cast for the first time are Jason Sudeikis — who has undeniable chemistry with McBride as Shane, Kenny's equally brash and egotistical teammate — and Ike Barinholtz, a "MADtv" (1995−2009) journeyman who joins the cast as a Russian pitching protege named Ivan.
The deeply comedic cast and artfully done direction makes each 30−minute "Eastbound" episode a visually captivating, side−splitting thrill. Most episodes feature at least one lengthy montage, set to an apropos, featured song, following one of Kenny's famous drug binges or sinful adventures along the South Carolina coast.
Surprisingly, the third season has transitioned seamlessly back to the States after a year and a half long hiatus. New storylines have seduced viewers, including Kenny's futile search for April, his desperate attempts to reconcile with Stevie, his reharnessed arm power and his newfound responsibility for Toby.
The main issue Hollywood−educated viewers have with the show is the focus on Kenny, who lacks moral fiber almost entirely. Yet co−creators McBride, Ben Best and Jody Hill have constructed the new, self−centered anti−hero: impossible to sympathize with yet difficult to despise. His exaggerated egocentricity, explosive anger issues and unadulterated chauvinism — especially when contrasted with his egg−like shape — make him oddly endearing. After all, the vast majority of American television viewers have an inexplicable affinity for characters who make them laugh.
So, for those deprived souls who have refrained from flicking on HBO at 10 p.m. on a Sunday night, "Eastbound & Down" is must−see television, especially with just five episodes left. The extravagant sets and ridiculous characters make each episode a fleeting but insanely satisfying hell−ride to the deepest pits of the dark comedy underworld.
