I love Monty Python, but it doesn't belong to me, my generation, or even my continent, so it's a shame that their influence isn't in greater evidence in American comedy: until the bleeding brilliant "Mr. Show" came along, you were on these shores 'stuck' with "Monty Python's Flying Circus" if you liked your sketch shows ironic, self-reflexive, literate, and, above all else, fearless. I can't tell you what's funny, but I know what makes me laugh, and "Mr. Show" ruined me for the rest of its ilk when it came along--not that I was ever a fan of the strident, mysteriously enduring "Saturday Night Live". (Whenever I hear of a cast member leaving "Saturday Night Live", I envision a prisoner getting paroled.)

"Mr. Show", which aired for four seasons between 1995 and 1998 on HBO, stars Bob Odenkirk and David Cross and a revolving troupe of supporting players, including the now-famous Jack Black. A standard episode starts with an introduction from Bob and Dave filmed before a live studio audience, segueing into a skit that will soon splinter off into increasingly surrealistic and wig-dependent non-sequiturs (serving the bald Dave especially well), only to come full circle back to Bob and Dave on stage bidding their spectators goodnight.

Like "The Simpsons", the sum of these parts is often deviously political; one half-hour, shot in a "cabin" and dealing, for the most part, with a redneck rebel who has his shack declared a country ("Newfreeland") in the middle of the United States--and begins to long for the standoffs he'd been engaged in with news crews and tactical forces--is the incident at Ruby Ridge in a nutshell, while scabrous swipes at the counterculture, the poor, the disadvantaged, the British, and the right are quite common throughout "Mr. Show"'s run. (It's equal-opportunity satire, if left-leaning.) The show's writing reflects the disdain for all creatures great and small that Cross projects in his hostile stand-up routines, tempered by the soothing yet shifty natural diplomacy of Odenkirk.

Not that "Mr. Show" pits good cop against bad cop. Dave can win a startling amount of sympathy and Bob earn our revile (both intentionally, I hasten to add) whenever they contradict their performing instincts--they are gifted actors. (Outside of "Mr. Show", Odenkirk proved that on "The Larry Sanders Show", Cross in a tiny but memorable role in Ghost World.) And the range of characters attempted by the pair--some recurring, though not until it becomes an "SCTV"/"SNL"-style crutch--is awing. In HBO Home Video's DVD set of seasons 1 and 2 of "Mr. Show", Bob appears as a senator from the deep south, a singing milking machine (don't ask), a sadistic infomerical host who utters the immortal line "Oh Nancy, only British people can fly," an iguana, and numerous imbeciles and button-down types; David essays a performance artist so angry he sues the American flag, a Method actor whose lobotomy gives him a craving for raw spaghetti-and-jelly sandwiches, a child labourer, a Bill Gates-esque tofu investor, and numerous imbeciles and button-down types.

"Entitilitus"-afflicted Ronnie Dobbs THE BEST OF MR. SHOW Running 25 minutes, "The Best of Mr. Show: The Incredible, Fantastical News Report" is a clip compilation containing nothing of seasons one and two of "Mr. Show", thereby adding real value to these DVD's. The final "Best of" sketch alone is worth the price of the set: the rock band "Titanica" visits a teenage metalhead in the hospital after his second attempt to kill himself by jumping into a vat of acid. The sight of Cross waving burnt-sausage arms and legs ("He looks like a wet cigar!") closes the book on gross-out humour.-BC

Each "Mr. Show" is guided by a dominant theme and punctuated by clever motifs. Its lacklustre gags are nevertheless codependents of the overall tapestry; likewise, many of "Mr. Show"'s belly laughs don't work out of context. (This becomes immediately apparent during the struggle to describe the hilarious parts of "Mr. Show" to friend or foe.) This was regularly a program for which the removal of a single joke would likely topple everything that preceded and followed it; if you're not won over by its wit, you may at least appreciate "Mr. Show"'s complex arrangement of comic dominoes. As this is my fourth or fifth time seeing a lot of these episodes, of the ten (technically eleven) packaged in the aforementioned two-pack, it's difficult to declare either a clear winner or dud between them: the fatally slow segments about basketball recruiters (2.5, "Operation Hell on Earth") and a third wheel on a honeymoon (1.3, "We Regret to Inform You") could simply be less resilient to repeat viewings than those about, say, the innocent asking for change (1.1, "The Cry of a Hungry Baby") or the bloody-ear guy ordering a donut (2.6, "The Velveteen Touch of a Dandy Fop"), and not indicative of ill conception.

HBO's 2-disc set of "Mr. Show" contains Season 1 (4 episodes) plus special features on the first platter and Season 2 (6 episodes) on the second. Clear, vivid full-frame video transfers are matched in quality by strong Dolby Surround soundtracks--I don't think fans are expecting them to look and sound this good. Extras: a cardboard insert that might be autographed by Bob and Dave; a 3-minute home video of Bob and Dave performing in a small club ("Before It Was a TV Show"); "The Best of Mr. Show" (see sidebar); "'Fuzz': The Musical, Featuring Ronnie Dobbs" (7 mins.), in which the central figure of the "Mr. Show" pilot and the upcoming feature film Run Ronnie Run causes a ruckus at a recording studio; ten "Mr. Show" TV spots; bios for Bob and Dave written by Bob and Dave; and a Bob and Dave commentary for each and every official episode, with scattershot appearances from cast and contributors (such as announcer Mary-Lynn Rajskub and comedian friend Tom Kenny). Their conversations are almost too random, inside, and unquotable to be enjoyed, though much of what they say amuses in the manner of casual chitchat.-Bill Chambers