Ellen Gray: A talky Steven Seagal debuts as 'Lawman'

LAWMAN. 10 p.m. tomorrow, A&E.

THERE'S PROBABLY a funny movie to be made about an action-movie hero who likes to play cop and gets so into it he's ordering the real cops around.

Too bad A&E and Steven Seagal decided to do it as a "reality" series.

It's been some three years since CBS briefly unleashed the likes of Erik Estrada, LaToya Jackson and Jack Osbourne on the mean streets of Muncie, Ind., in the quickly canceled "Armed & Famous," but those hoping to call 9-1-1 and get a celebrity sent to their house once again have an opportunity in A&E's "Lawman."

Assuming, that is, they live in Jefferson Parish, La., where Seagal, we're told, has been a sheriff's deputy for 20 years, a bit of moonlighting he's "kept out of the limelight . . . until now."

Maybe the way Tony Danza managed to keep a lid on his secret yen to teach high school until A&E came along?

I've never given much thought to Seagal one way or another, but until I saw the two episodes of "Lawman" that will be premiering back-to-back tomorrow night, I'd probably have pegged him as the strong, silent type.

If only.

Turns out the man never shuts up.

As he patrols Jefferson Parish with a couple of other officers (one of whom has been relegated to the back seat, presumably next to the camera person), Seagal keeps up a running commentary about the dangers of police work, his superior ability to spot possible malfeasance and the importance of not getting too excited.

"As a lifelong practitioner of the martial arts, I'm trained to remain calm in the face of adversity and danger," he intones at one point.

Which is funny, because Seagal - whose official title appears to be "reserve deputy chief" - seems like one of the more excitable members of the Jefferson Parish force.

Not to mention one of the bossiest.

"Go to the right," he orders during a pursuit of a suspected carjacker.

"Steven, let me drive," replies the guy behind the wheel, Col. John Fortunato.

"Just telling you where the holes are," Seagal persists, continuing to offer driving instructions from the front passenger seat.

When he's not riding shotgun, he's playing teacher in the gym or on the firing range.

Helping another officer prep for his annual sidearm qualification, Seagal gets plenty of time to show off, noting, "I'm trying to pass down some of the secrets that have made me a master shooter."

And when he's not worrying that one of his colleagues will flunk his sidearms test and end up riding a desk, he's concerned that some may have their guns taken from them in hand-to-hand combat.

"I've studied the martial arts most of my life, so I have a lot of confidence in myself, but I really worry about my own team members sometimes," he says as the camera cuts to Fortunato's face, a study in impassivity (though it's not entirely clear if this part of the monologue is being delivered in his presence).

"Sometimes I forget Steven's a big movie star," says another of his colleagues, not very convincingly, as people they encounter investigating a disturbance at a bar begin asking for Seagal's autograph.

Big indeed. At a reported 6 feet 4, Seagal not only towers over most of his fellow deputies, he also appears to be the only one wearing a bulletproof vest, at least outside his uniform.

But then I'd probably be doing the same thing if I were telling a guy with a gun how to drive.

Bravo may have lost "Project Runway" to Lifetime, but it just can't seem to say "auf Wiedersehen."

First it was "The Fashion Show," a "Runway" ripoff that only served to illustrate how important Tim Gunn really is to television.

Now, starting at 11 tomorrow night, the network's latest foray into fashion-based "reality," "Launch My Line," pairs a group of wannabe designers with professionals who presumably can actually execute some of the contestants' ideas.

The fashion writer - and self-described "dandy" - who claims to be incapable of sewing on a button sets the tone for "Launch," which seems to find most of its drama in the inevitable disputes between the experts and their headstrong charges.

There's no one of Heidi Klum's star power here, but among the other contestants is an architect who's worked for celebrities, and Louanna Rawls, the wardrobe stylist daughter of the late singer Lou Rawls.

Hosted by twin designers Dan and Dean Caten, whose tendency to finish each other's sentences quickly becomes tiresome, if not a little creepy, "Launch" is coming late to the catchphrase game, and seems stuck with, "Your line has been dropped."

Here's a better one for "Runway" fans: Accept no substitutes. *

Send e-mail to graye@phillynews.com.