Will Ferrell's new Netflix series The Hawk attempts to revive the Frat Pack comedy of the 2000s, but the result is a dated, unfunny slog. The show, which premiered on Netflix, follows Lonnie Hawkins, a once-famous golfer on a long losing streak who remains irrepressibly arrogant and obnoxious. Despite Ferrell's trademark charisma, the series fails to land its jokes, relying on genital gags, homophobic humor, and outdated references.
A Retro Comedy That Misses the Mark
In the 2000s, American comedy shifted from sophisticated banter to crude buffoonery, with films like Austin Powers and American Pie. The Frat Pack—including Ferrell, Ben Stiller, Steve Carell, and Judd Apatow—elevated this style with hits like Anchorman and Dodgeball. However, as tastes evolved toward dramedy and Marvel quips, this brand of comedy fell out of fashion. Ferrell, now 59, seems determined to bring it back, but The Hawk proves that some things are best left in the past.
What Happens in The Hawk?
The series centers on Lonnie Hawkins, a brash ladies' man and loser golfer who answers to no one. From his entrance in a giant silver bus to his garish polyester outfits and orange complexion, Hawkins is a walking spectacle. After a miraculous return to form, he competes against his resentful son Lance and longtime rival Golden Fisk (Luke Wilson) in the US Open. Hawkins is obnoxious, lascivious, and selfish—he steals a watch from a dead friend—but his son is also unsympathetic, leaving viewers with no one to root for.
Dated Humor and Lengthy Riffs
The show is filled with jokes that feel stuck in 2005: endless gay-panic humor, a graphic metaphor about defecation, and songs like Chamillionaire's Ridin' and Sisqó's Thong Song. Molly Shannon, as Hawkins' estranged wife Stacy, is reduced to foul-mouthed threats of genital mutilation. The comedy riffs drag on far too long, lacking the sharpness of modern humor. According to the review, “Comedy has clearly sped up over the past two decades.”
A Sour Taste in a Changed World
Hawkins is a destructive chancer whose cult following admires his unfiltered idiocy—a character that feels tone-deaf in today's political climate. The show doesn't satirize golf or anything else, partly because the PGA Tour is a producing partner, resulting in a generic script. As the review notes, “It’s never bracingly outrageous or distinctively odd.” The Hawk is not a return to form but a reminder that past glories are hard to revive.
