Night Man is a superhero TV series that debuted in 1997: the year the â90s finally went too far, and we all realized they had to be put down. The show is about Johnny Domino, which is the most â90s name I can possibly imagine, and he is a professional saxophone player, which is the most â90s profession I can possibly imagine. Itâs like the producers of Night Man knew that the â90s were winding down so they had to pack every trope theyâd been too embarrassed to use into one show, because they just felt that this was the last year you could unironically wear Hypercolor and it was sort of like the moment you realize an old dog is on the decline.
If Night Man feels like a cheap store-brand ripoff of Batman thatâs because this is a Malibu title, and Malibu is the Malt-O-Meal of comic imprints. Iâve said it before and Iâll say it again: Eat shit, Malibu. I know the company is defunct, I know that society and good taste and justice have won out, but this is like hunting Nazis in 1960s Argentina. Youâre not allowed to just commit atrocities and retire. This is Hunters shit, and itâs not over until I knock on your door with a copy of Mantra and a pistol.
Anyway hereâs our protagonist:
There is no need for time capsules: That image explains everything about the â90s in the most brutally honest way possible. Back then we liked generic, hairless men stripping down and struggling with basic communication. I blame the unrealistic standards Van Damme set in the â80s. Look at that zany window graphic: You could put a photo of the Armenian Genocide in that frame and saxophones would play while it answers a phone in a towel. It is an inevitability.
Iâm pretty sure the rippinâ saxophone theme is supposed to be Night Man himself playing — remember, thatâs not only his profession, but his passion. Here he is just hanging out and noodlinâ a âsexy night in the big cityâ style sax riff in the middle of a crowded cable car.
If you play an instrument on public transport, you are a fungal infection in the dicktube of society. It is literally a captive audience and you are exploiting it for attention you obviously could not earn fairly. If there was any justice in this world, God would strike you down for doing this kind of shit, and there is justice in this world, because thatâs exactly what happens.
Night Man is almost immediately struck by lightning, which sadly does not fuse his saxophone to his lips so that he becomes a jazz monstrosity, and racks up a lifetime of tired nurses explaining to horrified newbies that one âȘDOOTâȘ means Sax-face is hungry while two â«BLATSâ« is for âfull diaper.â
Instead, the accident grants Johnny psychic powers. Well, psychic power. You see, now his brain is tuned to the frequency of evil, like evil is a radio station and Night Man is a knob in the other sense of the word. Iâm not making any of that up — the creator of Night Man is barely making that up. That only technically counts as imagination, and would earn you a C- on Reading Rainbow even though none of the other children are getting a grade.
Hereâs the face Night Man makes when he listens to KEVL.
He looks like you just told him for the very first time that some letters can represent numbers. He looks like the news just broke into Baywatch to announce that the president cancelled surfing. Thatâs the expression youâll find on every personal trainerâs face when you tell them youâre not interested in a free session.
âEvil frequency detectionâ is his only innate power, but you will still see Night Man flying, going invisible, and firing lasers because at least one producer realized âfuckably dumb dude discovers the concept of subterfugeâ only worked for Burn Notice. The whole pilot revolves around Night Man gaining his superpower, then immediately using it to go after a suit that gives him better superpowers. And itâs the suit that really draws the Batman comparisons Night Man is in no way prepared to make. Johnny Domino is clearly supposed to be a suave Bruce Wayne-like figure, but his every expression is âunfrozen caveman encountering robot dogâ and he drives a Plymouth Prowler: The official car of regret.
Prowlers were only bought by paunchy old white men in the early stages of dementia whoâd temporarily forgotten what cool looked like but still felt pressured to take a hasty guess. Prowlers look like John Waters turned into a car, Turbo Teen-style, but lost all of his charm in the transition between man and machine.
Hyping up the Prowler as a bitchinâ new supercar really nails down the window this show operates in: The world was only stupid enough to think Prowlers were cool for like two weeks in the Spring of 1997, and never again, and then so far the other direction that it actually undid those two weeks and I started off this sentence telling you the truth but now it has become a lie.
Itâs clear they got that Prowler for free in a promotional deal, because Night Man had a budget of âwhatever Hercules: The Legendary Journeys didnât useâ and they might have been… proud of it? Most other shows in the â90s had just discovered two things: CGI and the fact that they had no budget for CGI. Most of their rendered abominations were backgrounded, blurred, darkened — Night Man had no such shame, which should surprise none of us after Hunk McPecs answered a phone in a towel then hopped in a Prowler.
Hereâs Night Man bringing its fire to the pilot episode:
That would earn you a âPassâ on your proof-of-concept midterm in a computer animation class held by the Night School program at your local YMCA, and Night Man is so proud of it. Itâs almost touching. Itâs like they couldnât bear to hurt the feelings of the special effects department, who might have failed out of âcoloring timeâ in kindergarten but it never stopped them from trying. It is very weird how prominently and unnecessarily Night Man uses CGI — they set their show in San Francisco then filmed it in Canada and rendered every set piece in the barn-studio of Bulgariaâs lowest bidder.
It doesnât surprise me that Night Man couldnât afford stock footage of the Golden Gate Bridge, but it does surprise me that they couldnât even afford âoverhead establishing shot of railing and water.â
You couldnât afford to be on any bridge? You couldnât even afford to put a bannister next to a river? Maybe you shouldnât be making a show then, Night Man. Maybe you should be saving up for the bulk box of Hot Pockets — yes, it sucks that they only have Philly Steak and Cheese, but it saves you 20 cents per Pocket and you can use those savings to buy the film rights for a better Malibu franchise.
Night Man has the craziest priorities in both budget and writing. He hardly ever uses his powers for Nightmanning — heâll fly to a crime but not during one. Heâll shoot a laser to knock down a ladder so he can climb a building to punch a guard even though he has a laser and can also fly. Night Man reserves his powers exclusively for mundane insanities, like creating a holographic duplicate of himself playing saxophone and then abandoning it:
Really, the only subpar â90s staple this show is missing is…
David Hasselhoff agreed to be the central villain of Night Manâs two-part pilot on two conditions: One, that he only has 14 seconds of screen time and two, that nobody mentions his character exists, even when theyâre talking to him. I donât think he even has a name, and he does less than nothing before he dies. Hasselhoff shows up at the very end of Night Man to say one and a half things, then be thrown out a window in a way that makes it look like he slipped on a rollerskate they didnât have to CGI, but also couldnât afford to.
And the show ran for two seasons!
So the answers to the questions I know youâre asking right now are âyes, I will be writing about Night Man again,â and âno, I wonât stop just because this column doesnât do well,â and âyes, this is how Iâm going to be for the duration of the site, even if you threaten to quit paying me because of it.â
I will absolutely sacrifice my own financial stability just for the chance to dunk on Malibu some more. Iâm not the hero you need, but Iâm sure as shit the hero you deserve.
