Twenty years ago, The Hawk would have been a 90-minute theatrical comedy. Today, it’s the latest feature film idea to be overextended to the point of mirthlessness.
A golf-centric Will Ferrell series to go alongside the star’s prior sports absurdities Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (NASCAR), Semi-Pro (basketball), Blades of Glory (ice skating), and Kicking & Screaming (soccer), this 10-part Netflix goof-off has its fair share of laughs.
Unfortunately, they’re overshadowed by hours of padding that leave the entire endeavor feeling strained and flat.
To be clear, Ferrell is one of the funniest people alive. But The Hawk (July 16) is a surprisingly imitative affair, built upon a premise that’s equal parts Happy Gilmore and last year’s even lamer Apple TV series Stick, and led by a main character who’s a familiar brand of over-the-top cocky and non-sequitur-spewing ridiculous.
With curly blonde hair, a matching chin goatee, and a trademark visor and sunglasses, Lonnie “The Hawk” Hawkins (Ferrell) was once the PGA’s top dog until his quest for grand-slam immortality went up in smoke when he botched an easy putt on the U.S. Open’s 18th hole. Years later, Lonnie is a clownish has-been on a minor league circuit, and during yet another ignominious public showing, he suffers more misfortune when his beloved caddy Old Henry (Keith David) drops dead.
This is calamitous for Lonnie, who, out of pure selfishness, wants to finish the day’s playing rather than accompany his friend in the ambulance. Given Ferrell and David’s likably combative chemistry, it’s also unfortunate for The Hawk.
Down in the dumps, Lonnie retreats in his tour bus (decked out with an ‘80s-style spray-painted fantasy mural) to a Walmart parking lot where he meets Sam (Fortune Feimster), a loner weirdo whom he swiftly hires as his new caddy. Lonnie is convinced he can buck the odds and win three tournaments, thereby earning himself a spot back on the tour. Alas, his habit of going to a meditative happy place to concentrate and speaking intimately to Callaway balls before smashing them down the fairway—shades of Adam Sandler’s hockey player-turned-golfer— marks him as a recognizable underdog destined for wacko redemption.
The Hawk is headed in one direction only, and every pit stop along the way is conventional. Lonnie’s son Lance (Jimmy Tatro) is a fellow pro golfer who takes his health and training oh-so-seriously courtesy of his aspiring wellness-influencer fiancée Natalie (Katelyn Tarver). He also has an ex-wife, Stacy (Molly Shannon), who’s eager for him to sign divorce papers and is trying to kickstart a hard iced tea business (called Teed Off) with her obviously gay new paramour, Radford (David Hornsby).
They both look upon Lonnie with disgust and/or disappointment (depending on the circumstances), and, regrettably, neither is the least bit funny, even though Tatro, and especially Shannon, are typically reliable comedians.
Ferrell and Feimster’s rapport is slightly more rewarding, at least at the outset, thanks to goofy back-and-forths about their similar hair (“It’s like we go to the same barber”), shared fondness for Hanson’s “MMMBop,” and love of candy bars—the last of which are central to Sam’s philosophy that “delicious beats bulls--t every time.”
Still, The Hawk fails to let loose as the best Ferrell films do. Aside from a brief early gag involving Sisqó’s “The Thong Song,” the show refuses to indulge in reality-warping outbursts that might energize its stock formula, regardless of direction (from, notably, Eastbound & Down and The Righteous Gemstones’ David Gordon Green) that lends it a professional sheen.
Created by Ferrell, Chris Henchy, and Harper Steele (the subject of the excellent 2024 documentary Will & Harper), The Hawk follows a dependable narrative template. Lonnie and Sam bumble their way back into the PGA tour, where they find themselves on a collision course with Lance, who both admires his father and fears facing him (and his own potential athletic limitations) on the green.
Additionally complicating matters are two de facto antagonists in Anton (Chris Parnell), a weaselly PGA official who loathes Lonnie for sleeping with his wife, and Golden Fisk (Luke Wilson), Lonnie’s pro rival and a smarmy jerk who, in the wake of beating Lonnie at the U.S. Open, became the spokesman for Mike’s Hard Lemonade.
Despite assembling considerable talent, The Hawk refuses to go outright crazy. Restraint is the enemy of hilarity in ventures such as this, and for all of Ferrell’s random exclamations and Shannon’s threats to rip off men’s genitalia, there’s a lack of inspired mania to the lethargic proceedings. Worse, that absence is filled with a whole lot of derivative plot that’s impossible to take seriously, as well as a depressing number of shout-outs to consumer brands and restaurant chains (Chili’s, Buffalo Wild Wings, Red Lobster).
Obligatory athlete cameos and late calamities help stretch The Hawk to 10 half-hour installments, but it runs out of steam rapidly, relegated to relying on dreary extended jokes to get to the finish line, be it Lonnie having to play with his hand first encased in a pickle jar and then wrapped in bandages, or a prolonged sequence concerning an illegal poker game and an armed heist gone awry.
By that point, viewers will be forgiven for not paying full attention to these shenanigans, as nothing of note comes out of them except the occasional excellent Ferrell quip, as when, upon freeing his fetid hand from its cast, he remarks, “You like the smell of parmesan cheese?”
The Hawk is a victim of both its own derivativeness and a streaming format that’s ill-suited for stories that might even struggle to thrive at an hour-and-a-half length. Asides about the PGA’s competition from the LIV Tour and golf simulator leagues are half-hearted, as is a superfluous subplot about Old Henry’s daughter, Crystal (Aida Osman), wanting to spread her dad’s ashes at Pebble Beach.
The longer it ambles, the more it drags, and its conclusion is so ho-hum that it betrays audiences’ commitment to sticking with it to the end. At his best, Ferrell is comedy’s wildest animal, but The Hawk never even comes close to truly soaring.
