The ’70s was an odd decade, for sure. Disco had mainstream credibility, punk had just arrived and John Waters and Divine were collaborating to make some of the most vicious counter-culture ever. And then there was Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman, the bizarre late-night 1976 soap send-up that had Louise Lasser (then freshly divorced from Woody Allen) playing the show’s double namesake, a frazzled, ultra-neurotic housewife who obsessed about whether or not her cleaning products were leaving any waxy yellow build-up. With its ludicrous plotlines—there was a Vietnam-inspired mass murder that opened the first show, as well as Mary’s impotent husband and her flasher grandpa—and over-the-top characters, this Norman Lear-produced oddity became an instant cult classic, with audiences tuning in to the show’s obvious, subversive parody of suburban Americana.

MH, MH became a Twin Peaks of its time, landing the cover of Rolling Stone and igniting a storm of media excitement. It also led to one of the show’s central ironies: while it cleverly skewered media hype and consumer culture, MH, MH soon became part of the very things it was poking fun at. Sony has sensibly decided to issue the show’s first 25 episodes on DVD—a perfect way to savour one of the strangest moments in TV history. I confess, after enjoying the first 25, comes this DVD package’s serious downside: I desperately want to see more. As well, there are no extras; I know the show was feted with a reunion panel discussion at the American Museum of Broadcasting a few years ago—why no footage of that?

by MATTHEW HAYS