Viewpoints

By * Gerald Clarke

THE NEW BILL COSBY SHOW. CBS. Monday, 10-11 p.m.E.D.T.

This show is fast becoming one of TV's best variety spots. Cosby, who tells stories rather than jokes, is funny half the time and terrible half the time. He seems to have no middle ground, but the good half generally makes you forget the bad. Guest comedians, such as Peter Sellers and Lily Tomlin, together with a regular like Foster Brooks, provide a happy balance to his sometimes overly understated style.

Like Flip Wilson on NBC, Cosby uses his hour as a showcase for black talent, with some of the best singers and dancers on the tube or anywhere else. They shoot out 1,000 watts every time they snap their fingers--and very nearly short-circuit the tube with electrical overload.

THE SONNY & CHER COMEDY HOUR. CBS. Friday, 8-9 p.m. E.D.T.

This is the series for middle-class swingers on a budget. Now in its second season--but at an earlier hour so the kids can swing too--the show spotlights the uneven talents of the Bonos, husband and wife. With songs halfway between rock and pop, a kind of demi-rock, and costumes copied from Elvis Presley, the show is TV's idea of hip. Accepting that bias on the part of the producers, the songs are not bad, however, and Cher is one of the best stylists around.

The trouble comes with the comedy, which consists mostly of Cher putting down Sonny, a one-shot joke at best, in skits that would be rejected by any self-respecting high school drama coach. "Sonny, I shouldn't have done this sketch. I think I hurt myself," Guest Tony Curtis says after one such embarrassment. "What, your back?" asks Sonny. "Nope, my reputation." The only funny thing was that he was right.

THE JULIE ANDREWS HOUR. ABC. Wednesday, 10-1 1 p.m. E.D.T.

On doctor's orders, this show is forbidden to anyone who suffers from too much sugar. After a fairly sprightly opening, the "Julie Andrews Nostalgia Hour," as the series should be named, has become so mired in goo--a mixture of honey, corn syrup and Grandma's Geritol--that even the star seems unable to move.

Most of the hour is a tired exhumation of the past--mostly Julie's--but don't expect songs from The Boy Friend, My Fair Lady, Camelot and Mary Poppins to sound as good as new. The dialogue is drab. "You know something, Julie, I've missed you," says Robert Goulet, her co-star in Camelot. It is hard to believe that this is the same sweet-and-sour Andrews of The Americanization of Emily, her best picture--when all you see is Lawrence Welk with nicer legs.

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