The Jono & Ben star is self-aware and surrounded by extraordinary women in Three’s latest local comedy series.
The first episode of Vince, written by and starring Jono Pryor, opens with intrigue, a loincloth and a man in the middle of some kind of breakdown.
As the titular character, a tattooed Pryor stands in an orange loincloth in a small supermarket, scoops a load of cayenne pepper out of a bulk bin and drops it. He kneels on the floor as a maudlin version of ‘House of the Rising Sun’ plays, swirling the fiery powder around with his fingers and then rubbing it in his eyes. Yelling “Muuuuttthhhaaafuckerrr” like a large mammal that’s been shot in the arse with a tranquiliser dart, he hurtles around the store as ‘House of the Rising Sun’ transitions into a jazz swing beat. Has he lost his mind, or is he engaging in a ritualistic and spicy act of self-flagellation? Either way, something has gone terribly wrong in Vince’s life.
Flash back to two weeks ago, and we find out Vince is the co-host of a morning TV show called “Morning Glory”. His partner in breakfast TV crimes is his wife, Lou. His daughter, Evie, is embarrassed about her parents’ work and pleads with them to cover real news.
Pryor is no stranger to the television industry, as one half of the popular TV comedy duo Jono & Ben, but it’s been nearly seven years since their eponymous show was on the air. Pryor has been working as a radio host, doing a bit of acting, and lately, writing Vince, a fictional comedy series produced by Kevin & Co, the powerhouse team behind Taskmaster NZ, New Zealand Today, Raised by Refugees and Guy Montgomery’s Guy Mont-Spelling Bee.
Vince is a “fall from a great height” story predicated on the literal falling down of Vince’s trousers during the live broadcast of an unsubtly titled “Cash for the cancer kids” fundraiser. It’s a “balls up”, and in step with the time, Vince, buried under an avalanche of online comments, becomes a liability and loses his job.
Pryor has taken what he’s learned and observed about the brutal and sometimes ridiculous world of working in television and taken it upon himself to gently and lovingly skewer the artifice, ego and superficiality involved. There are plenty of winks and nudges at the state of the industry, its weird characters and the craven interests that sometimes drive decision-making. Former breakfast TV host Matty McLean makes a cameo in the second episode. The call, as they say, is coming from inside the house.
As Vince’s agent says, as she tries to calm the shit storm Vince’s national exposure has caused, “It’s TV – The only people still watching it are my cousins in jail and my grandma who’s too weak to change the channel.” In response to his daughter’s requests to cover real news, Vince tells her that “no one wants actual news”, shortly after the Morning Glory team have closed out a show with the thrilling promise of tomorrow’s guest, “New Zealand’s largest kumara”.
I very much doubt Pryor would label himself as one of our finest actors, and he doesn’t quite possess the veneer you might usually associate with seasoned pros or breakfast television hosts. Still, he inhabits the character of Vince, a man who has yet to reveal any self-awareness knowingly.
Pryor has said he’s unsure how all the jokes in Vince will land, but that there are many. Some do too much heavy lifting as exposition, but the comedy that does fly is refreshingly contemporary and ambitiously varied. The chyron along the bottom of the screen as Morning Glory airs lightly treads in the footsteps of Succession with a series of visual gags. Alexis, dressed in designer gear, vapes constantly, clutching it like a security blanket, perfectly capturing the dependence you imagine industry figures like her casually wave away as a justifiable part of the job. Vince, meanwhile, tries to revive his reputation by filming a celebrity apology video with some sponcon from a skincare company.
Perhaps Pryor’s most magnificent achievement with Vince is the roles he’s written for some of our finest and most comedically talented women. It’s truly a treat to have Natalie Medlock back on screen. She channels Ab Fab’s Bubble, Edina and Patsy into the role of Vince’s agent — perfectly unhinged but strangely in control. Medlock is just one of the extraordinary talents the series has attracted. She is joined by a grounded and intelligent Chelsie Preston Crayford as Pryor’s lawyer neighbour Heidi, Anna Julienne as Lou, Laura Daniel as garishly costumed grifter on the grab, Bethanaé, Turia Schmidt-Peke as the very droll Debs, and Blair Strang as Billy. Ruby Hall is a star, playing daughter Evie with the precocious deadpan exasperation of Wednesday Addams.
Pace-wise, the show could crack on a bit faster, and some of the jokes could do with sharpening and some slightly lower guard rails, but the cast, fresh comedy, and intriguing opening have me hanging out for the next episode. I need to know why Vince is wearing a loin cloth as much as Alexis needs to suck on her strawberry-flavoured vape.
Vince is available to watch now on ThreeNow and airs on Thursday nights on Three.