Lewis Black is an acquired taste as a comedian, to be certain; choppy and spastic, his delivery is a deal-breaker to some. But the man is also a fount of sometimes eloquently perverse rage, so it makes for a good fit, casting him as the emcee/arbiter of taste and decency in a mock-procedural show of his own creation.

That’s basically the premise of Comedy Central’s Root of All Evil — a send-up of both our tabloid-happy culture and seemingly never-ending national love affair with celebrity judges. Each half-hour episode finds Black sitting in judgment in a sort of death-match, oratorical vote-off between two things that either get his nose in a twit or are somehow generally regarded as societal ills (e.g., “Weed vs. Beer“). A rotating panel of fellow comedians like Andrew Daly, Paul Thompkins, Kathleen Madigan, Greg Giraldo, Patton Oswalt and Andy Kindler serve as advocates on behalf of one of the topics, and argue the case before “Judge” Black and a studio audience sitting in the round.

When the show is “on,” it’s very funny; Giraldo opines that Tila Tequila has “a braided vagina,” and goes on to assert that “she achieved the impossible — she dumbed down MTV.” (VH-1, really, but I’ll let it  slide.) “I watched her show for five minutes and now it burns when I pee,” Giraldo rants, eventually winning his argument. Other times, though, the banter and ad hominem attacks between comedians just seem like leftover material from an all-star roast, as when Giraldo notes that Oswalt “can flail his little fetus arms about,” and Oswalt responds in kind by calling Giraldo “a bird-faced 10-year-old boy with clamidia and a spray tan.” Diversionary bits like this runs counter to the cultural-critique premise of the show, which is its strongest mooring; otherwise we’re just watching a joke-off, the Frankensteinian mash-up of a couple different stand-up acts into one 30-minute show.

The first season release of Root of All Evil comes housed in a regular Amray plastic case, presented in 1.33:1 full screen. Supplemental extras consist of three minutes of interviews with the show’s comedian lawyers, and a piddly 90-second interview with Black, who incredulously recounts how an audience member asked him if “the show was real,” as if somehow an air-quote judgment against Oprah Winfrey or Paris Hilton could be enforced. There are also some post-show interviews (send-ups of those outros on The People’s Court, when courtroom winners and losers reflect on the verdict), and a three-minute, black-and-white spoof about legal proceedings and the show. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C+ (Show) C+ (Disc)

Missi Pyle is an instantly recognizable and yet still oddly anonymous actress. Tall, broad-faced and characterized by an imperious visage, she’s marked her comedic presence in a wide variety of films — everything from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Stormbreaker to Dodgeball and the execrable American Crude. Interestingly, though much younger and less experienced, Emily Osment is almost as immediately recognizable. Yes, you see, she’s the sister of The Sixth Sense‘s Haley Joel, and she looks exactly like him. Soccer Mom is the movie that brings these two together, telling the story of a single working mother who poses as a famous athlete in an effort to try to boost her daughter’s spirit and save her soccer team.

Smart and hard-working, Becca Handler (Osment) is a good kid, but lacks a father figure. When her losing soccer team finds itself in need of a new coach, Becca’s mom Wendy (Pyle) decides to masquerade as the famous Italian soccer star Lorenzo Vincenzo (Dan Cortese) and take the job. Leaning on her hairdresser and make-up artist best friend for assistance, she comes up with a disguise, and throws herself into a mad charade to energize the girls. But can Wendy lead Becca’s team to the regional finals before her increasingly crazy double life comes totally unglued? Naturally, an appearance from the real Lorenzo figures into the finale of this airy, heartwarming all-ages flick, which skates by as an inoffensively charming slice of entertainment largely due to the fact that everyone involved is on the same unfussy page.

Soccer Mom is “just” a family film, yes, so its plot pivots aren’t all that groundbreaking. And neither does the movie’s obviously cramped production schedule allow for a lot of artistry in the telling. That said, while screenwriter Frederick Ayeroff’s script trades in all the obvious angles, it also works in a few winking tweaks of the conventions it’s honoring (“If we lose today you’ll still be my daughter, it’ll just be a little harder to love you,” says the sneering, overbearing mother of Becca’s competition). Some of the dialogue, too, is also charmingly specific in its zings, free of dull studio executive workshopping. (“He looks like Al Pacino. Or that Burger King guy,” says one of Becca’s friends when confronted with the curious, minute discrepancies in appearance between Lorenzo the pin-up star and Lorenzo in person.)

The film’s special effects make-up is handled by the Academy Award-winning team at Drac Studios, whose credits include Mrs. Doubtfire, White Chicks and Bram Stoker’s Dracula, and if their efforts sometimes look a pinch garish, they for the most part effectively bridge the gap between Cortese and Pyle, aided by the latter’s somewhat masculine-leaning features. Also, for what it’s worth, popping up for weird cameos in the movie are Victoria Jackson, as Wendy’s sounding-board shrink, and terrible rapper-turned-self-peddling-mogul Master P, as well as Emily Osment’s dad, Eugene Osment.

Housed in a regular Amray case, Soccer Mom comes with a couple bonus featurettes. First off is an eight-minute-plus making-of featurette, which includes interviews with cast and crew. There’s also a six-and-a-half-minute featurette that delves into the make-up work required in the movie. Chief make-up artist Todd Tucker talks about his vision for the film, and we’re also treated to footage of Cortese and Pyle sporting gold body suits used to map a corresponding, mixed-mean physical vantage point that they could then each match in character, as Lorenzo. Time-lapse photography shows Pyle’s complete above-shoulders transformation, and there’s also footage of her working on physical mannerisms, and perfecting her Italian-tinged Borat impression. To purchase the movie via Amazon, click here. C+ (Movie) B- (Disc)