Instead, Hartland USA embraces a loose absurdity and Hart's gift for freewheeling, off-kilter ramblings. Nothing here will disappoint or disorient his fans.
He conducts bewildering interviews. Pulls punchlines out of verbal molasses. Is shameless about plugging his range of (very good) potato chips. In that regard, it's a lot like his previous work on TVNZ's Late Night Big Breakfast or Hauraki's Bhuja radio show.
His new docu-series begins with him behind the wheel of a whale of a convertible cruising down a desert highway.
"Join me on a six-month journey, that I'll be doing in just two-and-a-half weeks," he says. "Unlike previous documentaries, I want to go deeper. I want to experience what Texans experience," he explains. "I want to work with them, play with them, eat with them and, if we have time, sleep with them."
By the end of episode one, at least, that last want remains unfulfilled. But he does have a fair crack at the others.
His first stop at The Little Longhorn Saloon lands him quite literally in the s***. But not for reasons you'd expect.
"Chicken S*** Bingo!" he states, before turning to a young woman named Dalyn and saying, "Tell us about that."
"It's pretty much what it says it's about," the saloon's official Chicken S*** Mistress shrugs. "You put the chicken on the board, she s***s on a number and then you win some money."
He decides to give it a go. He asks for advice before picking a number.
"It's the mystery of the chicken s***," Dalyn replies, giving misplaced gravitas to a defecating chook.
"You never know where she's gonna s***, but she's gonna s*** somewhere, that's for sure," she says sagely.
Next, he goes to a candy shop that is 150 years old until the shopkeep corrects him.
"It's 15 years old," she says.
Next, there's a whistlestop trip to Austin's Capitol State Building. Gazing in awe at its towering auditorium he informs us it's so tall you could fit "35,000 stacked cats" inside. Info dump over he goes to get some grub.
Barbecue is on the menu. Which is something the folks in Texas take very seriously. He has to try three different restaurants before he can get inside one to wait for a table. Eventually, he's seated and stacks his plate with mouthwatering ribs, sausage and brisket.
As Hart scoffs it down, the show's celebrity impersonator voiceover admits that watching people eat on TV isn't much fun.
"Out of respect for the viewer," he says, "Leigh keeps this section brief."
As night falls, Hart rocks up to the Broken Spoke honky tonk bar, where legends like Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson have performed. Hart interviews long-term resident country singer Dale Watson, who's been playing the Spoke for 40 years. He also chats to Terri White, daughter of the chap who built the bar in 1964. She may also be the first person to ever leave Hart completely befuddled. Usually, it's the other way around.
"I'm not quite sure how we got on to monkeys," he says, a look of confusion on his face. "But ... ahh ... if I could just bring it back to Texas?"
He asks what makes Texas special and Terri gives a passionate, right-on speech.
"We don't give a s*** if you're rich or you're poor. Be whoever you want to be! However you want to be it! It's damned okay!"
Stirring stuff. Until she blows it in the very next breath.
"Everybody loves Austin so much they're all coming from California," she sneers. "They're trying to bring their California bulls*** here. Trying to make us like that California s***. We're not that way."
She then derided him for his line dancing. "Even for a first-timer, you sucked."
Talk about a Texan welcome. Because American culture floods the zone it's easy to forget how alien a place it is. Sure, there are plenty of similarities but it's also very strange. So much so that it bamboozled one of our finest comedic oddities on more than one occasion.
And this is only episode one. Hartland USA hasn't even taken Hart anywhere close to the heart of Texas yet. Things should get deeply weird. Saddle up.
• Hartland USA starts Monday, November 7, at 9.25pm on TVNZ DUKE and Thursday on TVNZ 2 and On Demand.
