"What has 20 legs, 18 balls and one brain? The State." - David Lipsky, Details Magazine, 1996.

On October 2, 2007, the first season of The Sarah Silverman Program was released on DVD from Comedy Central/Paramount. I bring this up because it was only about a couple of years ago that I got a little taste of something I have only been anticipating with various degrees of fervency ever since: the DVD release of THE STATE, the early 1990s MTV sketch comedy program that amassed a solid cult following and would eventually spawn cottage industries of goofy pet projects such as Reno 911! and Stella and the entirety of David Wain's filmography. It cued up as one of those forced previews which mostly seem to irritate on the way to accessing a main menu, but this particular promo was one of the rare few that had me clamoring for a street date, or a "State date," if you will. Although 2008 saw the release of Role Models as well as the fifth season of Reno 911!, THE STATE remained in development limbo.

I opened my mailbox a week or so ago and got a surprise bigger than any taco supreme the postman ever delivered. The official release of THE STATE: THE COMPLETE SERIES was finally a reality. The golden age of original MTV programming seemed to have been the early 1990s, when the network was finding the time to flood the airwaves with Liquid Television and its offshoots (Aeon Flux, Beavis & Butt-head), Jon Stewart's old talk show and THE STATE, directed and performed by the 11 members of a collective band of arts-trained NYU graduates.

As I watched the first episode on the first disc, I was taken aback by just how damn young these people looked. Having followed Reno 911! for many years, I was amazed to see an unmarried Kerri Kenney with bleached blond hair and a leather jacket. Ben Garant, before he was known professionally as Robert, is miles away from the mustached hick with the Kevlar vest outside his uniform, and he rarely wears sunglasses throughout the entire series. Todd Holobuek, now having cultivated a nice goatee and a chrome dome, has a baby's face in the opening credits. Joe Lo Truglio could've been mistaken for a freshman, Ken Marino looks like he'd just been plucked from behind the counter of a pizzeria and even the should-be-ubiquitous Thomas Lennon (a scene-stealer in films as recent as I Love You, Man and the Zac Efron vehicle 17 Again) cracks a wry smile that is nothing short of adorable. And Michael Ian Black? Michael Showalter? Kevin Allison? Even David Wain and Michael Patrick Jann, the two key directing talents of the group? Yes, they look as if they're in their very early twenties.

MTV didn't mind, and we all know surely that handfuls of less talented young adults would come to roost when the network became progressively less defined by the M word (unless that word is "Me"). Put these cherubic, eccentric personalities together and what erupts is a giddy display of concise craziness that works better in 22-minute intervals than most other programs do in one hour. At once a relic of as well as a satire of the grunge generation from whence it came, THE STATE is a constantly energetic showcase for some of the most unsung dry comic talents of recent years, many of whom would become more prolific in smaller combinations (Lennon and Garant would become screenwriting partners for numerous studio films, but a high pecentage of which came out frustratingly mediocre).

With a template similar to The Kids in the Hall and Mr. Show, THE STATE bounces from one strange scenario to the next by appropriating a quote, a piece of music or character in differing contexts. In Mouse Problem, for instance, a house is infested by Slash, cavorting around in his top hat and leather, nibbling on French bread and swilling down Jack Daniels, before he is caught and the Fleas (as in the Chili Peppers bassist) take over. This leads naturally to a bunch of teens hopping on a bed before the father of one, Doug, calls him down to talk.

Doug (Showalter) is one of several recurring characters throughout the series, both a deliberate persona designed to allow some meta-satire on mass-appealing fictional regulars in sitcoms and on SNL as well as a pitiful example of Generation X antipathy. Backed up by an anonymous clan of slacker buds, Doug butts head with authority using colloquialisms ("I'm Doug, solamente Doug") and a handy catchphrase ("Forget it, I'm outta heeeeere"), but he winds up proving himself less cool than those rather lenient adults he seeks to oppose. Moving further down the spectrum are the swinger tag team of Levon and Barry (Black, Lennon), who make the moves on a $240 pile of pudding; multi-tasking Hollywood agent James Dixon (Lennon); Lennon & Garant as Inbred Brothers Emmett & Lyle ("What am I doin'?"); and, the essence of banality itself, Louie (Marino), a party-hopping lug who is adored simply for his one enthusiastic line of dialogue: "I wanna dip my balls in it!"

All them, and Lil' Brown Dog Food!

THE STATE: THE COMPLETE SERIES rounds up all four seasons of the program save for the compilation episodes, allowing for a chance to evaluate the show on a cycle-by-cycle basis. The first season was notable in that MTV mandated much of the material the group would write and act in. Aside from many "trunk sketches," a term affectionately used for holdovers from the troupe's stage shows that would be performed in the company of a studio audience, there's also a fair amount of humor taking aim at the other shows on the station's mid-90s roster. If you don't know who Dan Cortese was, Allison's over-the-top impersonation of the MTV Sports anchorman as he terrorizes a golf course will fly over your head. A lot of the rock star-themed skits as well as the aforementioned fictional regulars were also a product of demand. But every once in a while, some random moment of oddball gold surfaces, like the rumble in the alley involving a street gang and a clan of Amish farmers or the game show Mind Match, where contestants collect orphaned children instead of cash and prizes.

Additional highlights from the first five episodes on disc one include an appearance by Sid Vicious & Nancy Spungen (Garant, Kenney) on the Pyramid, where the categories ironically include "Things That Kill" ("Oh, I know, Sidney..love") and "Things People Do on Heroin" ("Eating, sleeping, f***ing, everything"); Tom Lennon's acoustic ballad "Forever," about a stalker with an erection; the immortal Pants bit wherein a man learns to fully live by covering his lower shame in public; loony parodies of commercials for beer (Hops Plus), cereal (Krispy Pops) and fabric softener (Fluffy Soft); several one-off appearances by Black's ridiculously overzealous motivational speaker, Capt. Monterey Jack, and Lennon's Old Fashioned Guy (as in he still believes a giant holds up the earth and that women being allowed to vote is an alien conspiracy); and, of course, Hormones, in which a panky session is translated play-by-play by a group of dancers in blue and pink unitards.

The later seasons dispense with a lot the network-friendly humor and the group truly begins to hit the jackpot in terms of off-kilter jokes and character sketches. The first two episodes of the second season offer a wealth of memorable moments, be they Service with a Smile (about a fast food joint whose chain of command is progressively more sadistic), Eating Muppets or The Barry Lutz Show, wherein the topic is monkey torture. Also watch the first episode for some ingenious uses of pantomime and interpretive dance in Mime Crash and Choking. The mock trailer for a Footloose-style high school drama called Hepcat, a jock's quest to find the right word to rag on a Bookworm, the literal pandemonium of Copy Shop, a trio of outlandishly paranoid Can I Go Play PSAs, and And, wherein a fledgling writer is introduced to the famous conjunction only to go overboard with it also provoke hearty laughs in season two.

Seasons three and four signal a shift into unbridled absurdity, a stream-of-consciousness barrage of bizarre characters and further convention-damning ideas ripe with quirky pay-offs. The immortal Taco Man bit, for instance, starts off with a crazy enough premise (Allison's mailman prefers to deliver tacos instead of letters) and pushes that nuttiness into one unexpected yet uproarious sight gag by skit's end. A recreation of a Japanese tragedy performed in the classic Kabuki tradition plugs in all the big-name personalities from prior seasons. Louie crashes the Last Supper (blame Judas for sending the invitation) and shows up briefly as an understudy for Showalter in the last temptation of Doug. A terrorist team's ransom demand for $150 breaks down into a bitter but tight-lipped argument over change, debts and denominations ("Could I have mine in the form of a gift certificate to Red Lobster?").

The Porcupine Racetrack mini-musical is one of the cast's favorites and is certainly one of mine, and fans of the short-lived Viva Variety should thrill to see the genesis of it in The Mr. and Former Mrs. Laupin Variety Show, which benefits from the presence of the entire gang. Also, watch Science Fiction Laboratory and see if you can guess the odd detail in one wardrobe carried over to Role Models.

No idea is too cuckoo for cable, it would seem. The group would even go out and film second unit bits that showcase the likes of Froggy Jamboree, which Lennon prefaces by mentioning that this was one bit the other performers disapproved of. Over the closing credits scroll, Lennon and Kenney stage a hootenanny in a kiddie pool whilst decked out in green wetsuits. Although the team admits to scripting their sketches, the rough home video camera footage of sketches like these, which also include Ride (a group of suited adults descend upon a playground) and TV Watching (wherein Marino takes a bet not to sit in front of the tube as a chance to engage in a series of increasingly strange and annoying new habits), give off a sense of spontaneity that reflects the improvisational skills of the group.

The awkward transition from the theatre to the television studio is easily forgiven due to the high volume of gags and the boundless enthusiasm of the cast, but some moments could've been reworked. The primetime-friendly noir riff Talk You, for instance, could've been played a little more subversively. Arguably straighter slice-of-life moments like Get a Job are commendable (Marino made a satisfying feature-length example with the screenplay for Diggers), but can get easily eclipsed by dramatic take-offs such as Tenement and Boy in a Barn. And given the momentum invested into a half-hour format, the weakest links in several of these shows (such as Tape People, Slinky's and the up-front Freaks) prompt a bathroom break unnecessary when you want to p*ss yourself laughing.

Still, there are 24 episodes in total on this DVD, and it's easy to lose yourself in a lot of the material. I've neglected to mention budding kids' show host Blueberry Johnson, David Wain's fourth wall-breaking excursions, Festis, the Birthday Hobo, the man-size Sea Monkeys, the self-effacing ethnic humor (see The Jew, The Italian and The Red Head Gay), the group's going on a prom several years out of high school, and the shoes that make piggy sounds when you step down on the heel. To all who've heard merely the legend, it's a festival of fun, freaky sketch comedy that is worth revisiting even ten years removed from the era in which it was produced. As for the longtime faithful, take that champagne bottle you've been saving for this occasion and break it with your butt. THE STATE is finally on DVD.

But let's address the main caveat to this release right now, which is, of course, copyright issues. Flash back to MTV in the early 1990s, when the M still stood for music and that the network, by arrangement with the record companies, could freely use popular songs in their sketches without paying the ethical and financial consequences. There is an skit in which Michael Showalter and Ben Garant play two college boys who crash a children's party, sucking on helium balloons and getting into deep discussions about life, love and Pink Floyd records. In the course of this skit, songs by Dr. Dre, Nirvana, The Black Crowes, Jane's Addiction, Spin Doctors, Salt-N-Pepa, P.M. Dawn, Lenny Kravitz, and Genesis all turn up in very quick snippets. That's at least nine selections in one skit that would have to be cleared nowadays because licensing issues are considerably thornier.

There is an insert within the DVD from the troupe that even points this out, although they did get composer and long-time friend Craig Wedren, responsible for the industrial fanfare theme song ("Boys and girls...action!), to recreate the background music. They blend in fine, and I heard songs by Snap ("The Power") and Laurie Anderson ("O Superman") in their natural habitats. But the many Barry & Levon appearances were compromised by the musical replacement, as they were originally filmed live with Marvin Gaye's "Sexual Healing" cued up nearby. In the Planet Groovy skit, there is some overt dialogue that mentions the singer. In making the authorized transition to disc, Black and Lennon have noticeably looped their old voices and much of the studio laughter is missing.

Also, certain images have been blurred out as well, particularly in the And sketch and, most ridiculously, James Dixon: Jedi Talent Agent, where a figure of Yoda has its face blurred (this does not bode well for the inclusion of "Yoda" on the next Weird Al compilation). They don't bleep out any references to the Dagobah System, although in the audio commentary tracks accompanying the episodes, casual profanity from the crew is censored, much unlike the Reno 911! season collections.

I can at least give credit to the producers of this set for actually restoring and remastering what was always a visual grab bag into something that looks like a genuine preservation. You'll know the changes in style when you see them as you focus on detail and color saturation, and you'll tell apart the film camera from the video camera easily because of their juxtaposition. But the image throughout is as sharp as can be, no artifacts or pixels to be found. The Dolby Digital 2.0 stereo tracks aren't that dynamic, but the show never really needed to be. The existing original compositions and Wedren's newer tracks don't carp the dialogue or sound effects. All 24 episodes are closed-captioned for the monkeys in the audience.

Each season of THE STATE gets its own DVD replete with bonus features, including an audio commentary for each episode by various groupings of the 11 members as well as sections devoted to season-specific outtakes and vintage backstage interviews with the eleven stars, all fresh-faced and in the prime of their young adult lives. Michael Ian Black even takes us on a sarcastic set tour. The outtakes are, naturally, heavy on alternate takes and unused footage, a lot of which boggle the mind as to why they didn't get on air. And these are just throwaway moments like Lennon eating his prom corsage or Marino snorting mounds of free toothpaste in front of a perplexed bathroom attendant.

The commentaries are very high on camaraderie, oftentimes making up for the lack of a clear handle on which member wrote which skit. Every once in a while, there's an amusing detail about the birth of a certain character, the goings-on behind the scenes of a sketch and many anecdotes playing on the lived-in chemistry the group shared. For the most part, the comments spring from what's currently on the screen. I would've loved to have heard more from the likes of Thomas Lennon and Kerri Kenney-Silver, who are noticeably absent during some of their best character pieces. But hearing Ken Marino wryly comment on his overtly physical style of acting ("I use my entire instrument") or David Wain confirming the status of Kerri's breasts or Michael Jann summing up the spirit of the performances in one sentence ("Everyone was so desperate to get their face on TV") keeps the commentaries in the playful sprit of the program proper.

The fifth DVD rounds up all of the previously unreleased material, starting with the original pilot episode and peaking with 90 minutes of those "shot, but not aired" sketches spanning the entire series run. A lot of what was filmed for the pilot would later be re-shot with the benefit of greater production values (Hormones, Sid & Nancy) or broadcast in isolated bits and pieces (Krispy Pops). What ties it all together is a wraparound story involving a stalled elevator, replete with a claustrophobic chase sequence and a walk-on appearance by Meat Loaf, who figures more prominently in the outtakes thanks to a bawdy line ("Let's all get nekkid!").

The unaired sketches start increasing in both quality and quantity if you follow them chronologically. The pilot and the first two seasons' casualties largely come across as weaker variations on previous sketches (Shot in the Head, Tompkin's Sealant) or just lame (Dinner at Marky Mark's). What is worth mentioning in terms of decent detritus are the trailer for a horror movie about a killer Super 8 camera, a lost character from Joe Lo Truglio (Deputy Cow Benny), a basketball team consisting of burnouts (Muskrats, which features a performance by Kerri's band, Cake Like), and a surprisingly polished period piece about the convoluted lineage of a Southern gentleman (both that bit and Super VIII were featured on the old VHS compilation Skits & Stickers).

I was surprised by the 40-minute collection of outtakes from the third season, many of which could've been cherry-picked and made into a decent episode in its own right. The complete version of Drag Dad, which appeared briefly in one episode only to be preempted by antics at a beach, isn't as terrible as Lennon made it out to be, and Showalter's Porno Sex Lover, a.k.a. Thunderboy, turns out to be as spirited and strange as one could hope for. There's also Pig Schmooze, T. Baby and the Gunter Brothers, all of which are far more superlative than most of the unpolished scraps from prior seasons. And both the pilot and the unaired sketch reels contain optional commentary from David Wain, Kevin Allison and Todd Holobuek among others.

The troupe's set-demolishing guest spot on The Jon Stewart Show, the complete Christmas Party karaoke video (originally set to Van Halen's "Panama") and some irreverent live material/PSA parodies shot for Spring Break 1996 are included under the "special appearances" menu. The original promos for the show are pretty funny in their own right, especially the one which collects all of their negative reviews ("Miserable Crap") and the complete "Black to Black" collection, in which each of the 11 members are given three chances to come up with hooks meant to get viewers watching, often prompting some hilarious nonsense ("Edgar Allan Chevrolet?").

Each disc opens with previews for other MTV programs on DVD, including a few that have been available for at least two years (Wonder Showzen) and yet another cult item that is finally being prepped for release (sing it with me: "You're standing on my neck").

The only thing notably missing from this set was the hour-long "43rd Annual Halloween Episode" which aired on CBS in 1995. Although MTV offered to renew the series and raise their $300 per person salaries, The State attempted an ill-fated transition to a much less nurturing network environment. Aside from a four-star positive review from the same New York Post critic who legendarily gave the show "negative two stars," promotion for the Halloween show was scarce. The show's low ratings were taken at face value and the chief of programming pulled the plug on further State specials. The group would reunite onstage several times in the wake of their final stand on television, but The State split apart to pursue individual projects. The rest is history, just like this DVD package.

Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: DVD
Video Occasion: Good for Groups
Suitability For Children: Suitable for Children Age 13 and Older