If you were flipping through channels in late 1975, you probably expected the usual variety show fluff. Big hair. Sparkly vests. Maybe a polite joke about the President. Then came The Sex and Violence Family Hour. It wasn't a "family hour" at all, obviously. It was a fever dream of a pilot that basically tried to set the existing rules of television on fire.
Most people have never even heard of it. That’s because it never actually became a series. But for those of us obsessed with the history of sketch comedy, this weird little artifact is like the "missing link" between the polite humor of the 60s and the anarchy of Saturday Night Live or SCTV. It was raw. It was messy. Honestly, it was a bit of a disaster, but a brilliant one.
The 1970s War Over Your Living Room
Television in 1975 was undergoing a massive identity crisis. The FCC had just implemented the "Family Viewing Hour," a policy that mandated networks keep the 8:00 PM to 9:00 PM slot "wholesome." No gore. No suggestive dialogue. Just pure, unadulterated blandness.
Naturally, the counterculture hated it. The Sex and Violence Family Hour was born directly out of that frustration. It was meant to be a direct middle finger to the censors. The title itself was a sarcastic jab at the sanitized landscape the government was trying to force onto the American public.
The project was spearheaded by the team at The Second City, specifically the Toronto branch. If that name sounds familiar, it should. That’s the same comedy greenhouse that gave us almost every legend from the early days of SNL. The pilot featured a very young, very hungry John Candy. You also had Joe Flaherty, Eugene Levy, and Andrea Martin. These weren't stars yet. They were just kids from a comedy basement in Canada trying to see how much they could get away with on a soundstage in Los Angeles.
Why the Pilot Failed (and Why That’s Great)
The pilot is a chaotic collection of sketches that feel less like a polished show and more like a late-night dare. It’s grainy. The lighting is harsh. The pacing is, frankly, all over the place. In one segment, they’re skewering soap operas; in another, they’re doing a bit about a "suicide hotline" that is remarkably dark for 1975.
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Network executives didn't just dislike it; they were terrified of it.
You have to remember the context. ABC, CBS, and NBC were the only games in town. They were looking for the next Carol Burnett Show, something grandmas and grandkids could watch together while eating TV dinners. The Sex and Violence Family Hour was pitching sketches about leather-clad bikers and crude parodies of news anchors. It didn't fit the "variety show" mold because it didn't have a host. There was no big musical number at the end where everyone held hands and sang a folk song.
It was essentially "underground" comedy trying to wear a tuxedo. It didn't fit. The suit was bursting at the seams.
Actually, the most interesting thing about the show isn't what happened on screen, but what happened immediately after. Because the pilot was rejected, the cast didn't get tied down to a long-term network contract. If The Sex and Violence Family Hour had been picked up, we might never have gotten SCTV. John Candy might have spent five years playing a wacky neighbor on a mediocre sitcom instead of becoming the comedic powerhouse of the 80s.
The John Candy Factor
Seeing John Candy in this pilot is a trip. He’s thin—well, thinner—and he has this frantic, nervous energy that he eventually smoothed out into the lovable "Uncle Buck" persona we all know. But here? He’s experimental. You can see him testing the limits of physical comedy.
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There’s a specific sketch where he plays a salesman that feels so much like a prototype for his later characters. He uses that high-pitched, desperate giggle. It’s a glimpse into the lab. For fans of comedy history, this is the equivalent of finding a notebook of Picasso’s early doodles. It's not the masterpiece, but you can see the brushstrokes.
The Legacy of a Show That Never Was
Even though it never aired as a series, The Sex and Violence Family Hour eventually found its way onto home video in the 1980s. Distributors knew they could slap John Candy’s face on the box and make a quick buck. This led to a weird situation where kids in 1985 were buying a VHS tape of a failed 1975 pilot, thinking it was a "new" movie.
This cult status kept the spirit of the show alive. It proved that there was an audience for "mean" comedy. It showed that viewers were tired of the "Family Hour" restrictions.
Think about the DNA of modern comedy. Shows like I Think You Should Leave or The Eric Andre Show owe a debt to these failed pilots. They embrace the awkwardness. They lean into the fact that the camera is there. The Sex and Violence Family Hour was one of the first programs to realize that TV could be self-aware. It didn't just want to tell jokes; it wanted to mock the very medium of television.
Key Takeaways from the "Sex and Violence" Era
- Context matters: The show was a direct reaction to the FCC's "Family Viewing Hour," which tried to sanitize 8:00 PM television.
- The Talent Pipeline: It featured the "Mount Rushmore" of Canadian comedy before they were famous, including Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara.
- Experimental Failure: Sometimes a failed pilot is better for a career than a successful one because it allows for more creative freedom later.
- Satire over Slapstick: While it had physical comedy, the core of the show was biting satire aimed at the TV industry itself.
How to Explore the History of 70s Sketch Comedy
If you're looking to dive deeper into this specific era of television, don't just stop at the famous names. The 1970s was a graveyard of "edgy" pilots that never made it. Here is how you can actually find the good stuff.
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First, go watch the The Sex and Violence Family Hour pilot if you can find a copy. It's usually floating around on archive sites or specialty DVD collections. Don't expect Saturday Night Live level production. Expect something that feels like a high-school play written by geniuses.
Next, compare it to the early episodes of SCTV. You’ll see the same actors, the same sets, and often the same "vibe," but with a much clearer vision. SCTV succeeded because it created its own universe (the fictional SCTV network), whereas The Sex and Violence Family Hour was just trying to scream into the void.
Finally, look into the history of the Family Viewing Hour legal battles. The policy was eventually struck down in court as a violation of the First Amendment. Understanding that legal backdrop makes the "Sex and Violence" title much more than just a provocative phrase—it makes it a political statement.
Basically, the show wasn't just a failure. It was a warning shot. It told the networks that the kids were coming for their boring, safe programming, and they weren't going to play nice.
Actionable Next Steps:
- Research the FCC Family Viewing Hour: Understanding the censorship of 1975 provides the necessary context for why this show's title was so shocking at the time.
- Track the Second City Toronto Lineage: Follow the careers of the cast members from this pilot to see how their specific brand of "smart-stupid" humor evolved into the mainstream.
- Seek Out Rare Pilots: Use platforms like the Paley Center for Media or the Internet Archive to find other "lost" comedy pilots from 1974-1976, which was the peak era for experimental television comedy.