Will Ferrell went on a sports-comedy bender in the mid-2000s, and it was, for the most part, a thing of stupid beauty. It kicked off with the unhinged and funny “Kicking and Screaming” (2005) and peaked with the hilarious back-to-back monster hits “Talladega Nights” (2006) and “Blades of Glory” (2007), before the sluggish and uninspired “Semi-Pro” (2008) killed the streak. Ferrel’s reign as the lumpy and clueless anti-Costner of athlete/coach cinema had come to an end.
Now comes the jokey, loud and only intermittently amusing Netflix series “The Hawk,” with Ferrell coming out of sports-comedy retirement to play a boorish and burnt-out golf pro who, well, comes out of retirement in a quest to hit the reset button on the infamous meltdown that killed his career. What might have worked as a 90-minute slice of silly escapism at the cineplex in the 2000s is stretched to tedious and sometimes grating lengths over a 10-episode run.
We’ve got some big and insurmountable issues here. For one thing, the timing isn’t great, as we recently had the similarly themed (and generally superior) “Stick” on Apple TV, with Owen Wilson playing a once-brilliant golf pro whose career imploded after an epic implosion. More concerning is the uneven tone of “The Hawk,” which veers between slapstick set pieces that feel desperate, crude verbal wordplay, and half-hearted attempts at emotional resonance. It feels like we’re watching a less edgy take on “Eastbound & Down,” featuring unlikable characters in ludicrous predicaments that defy logic—even for a live-action cartoon of comedy/drama.
Sporting an alarmingly deep tan, a mop of unruly hair and garish outfits, Will Ferrell’s Lonnie “The Hawk” Hawkins is a variation on characters we’ve seen him play time and again. He’s boisterous, selfish and not particularly bright, but every once in a while we catch a glimpse of an actual beating heart underneath all the alcohol-infused bravado. Some 20 years after Lonnie missed a gimme putt that would have given him a coveted Career Grand Slam, he’s hacking away at tournaments such as the W.H. Rawlings Tire Invitational on the Korn Ferry Tour, which is essentially the development league for the PGA Tour. Inspired by the success of his son Lance (Jimmy Tatro), a rising star on the PGA circuit, Lonnie vows to make one last run at greatness so he can rejoin the big boys and finally win the U.S. Open.
Hey, anyone want to rent “Tin Cup”? Just sayin’.
With classic rock needle drops such as Steely Dan’s “Reelin’ in the Years” and 10cc’s “I’m Not in Love” on the soundtrack, “The Hawk” meanders from episode to episode, almost daring the viewer to skip ahead or consider other options on the vast Netflix leaderboard. It’s a kick to see Ferrell reunited with his former “Saturday Night Live” castmate, the fabulous Molly Shannon, who plays his estranged wife Stacy, and it’s impossible for the duo not to score some laughs—but Shannon is saddled with a shrill, scheming and poorly drawn character. Stacy is an angry people user who manipulates her almost ex-husband and her son to her advantage and is obsessed with marketing “Teed Off,” a canned, cold-brewed iced tea infused with spirits. On one of the many occasions when Stacy is ticked off at Lonnie, she rails, “If you ever embarrass me again…I will split your head open and [defecate] inside, you f—face!” Lovely.
Fortune Feimster brings a laid-back likability to Sam, who knows nothing about golf but becomes Lonnie’s caddie and sidekick. Sam is one of the few relatable and decent characters in the series, but she’s stuck with a backstory that springs out of nowhere and yields little in the way of laughs or dramatic payoffs. (The same could be said of an ongoing subplot involving Lance’s forays into…well, let’s just say Lance has some problems.) Chris Parnell is wasted playing PGA board member Anton Floyd, a comedic spiritual descendant of the Ted Knight character from “Caddyshack,” i.e., the uptight stickler for the rules who hates Lonnie with a passion. Anton’s the kind of guy who laments the addition of a woman to the board and says, “It won’t be long now until this room is filled with women and undesirables.” Not exactly cutting-edge comedy in 2026.
We even get a Wilson sibling in Owen’s brother Luke, who plays one Golden Fisk, a slick, marketing-minded, image-conscious pro, and yes, that’s basically the Don Johnson character from “Tin Cup.”
Will Ferrell returning to sports-comedy territory should have been a layup, or should we say a two-foot putt. Instead, we get a recycled collection of familiar gags that favors loud over clever. Virtually everything about “The Hawk” reminds us of better golf movies and TV series.
All 10 episodes of “The Hawk” were screened for review.
