San Francisco Chronicle, Copyright 2009 Who knew that when HBO announced it was green-lighting a new series called 'Hung' about, let's see, a well-endowed man, it would end up being kind of endearing? It's also funny -- which is good, since 'Hung' is a comedy. But there's a lot of unexpected sweetness and who-knew depth to the story at hand, which goes well beyond the meretricious inclinations you might take from the title. Created by Dmitry Lipkin ('The Riches') and his wife and writing partner Colette Burson, 'Hung' is part sad-sack drama, part sociological study of a decaying American city (Detroit) via the economy and, well, about a man with a large penis. That man is Ray Drecker (Thomas Jane), who grew up in Michigan and was a high school sports hero and popular guy with the world waiting for him to conquer it. He married his high-school sweetheart and beauty queen Jessica (Anne Heche). They were married for 20 years and had twins, Darby (Sianoa Smit-McPhee) and Damon (Charlie Saxton). But somewhere in the middle and very much in the end, it -- like Detroit -- all went to hell. Ray never really amounted to much. He got scholarships and roamed into the athlete's field of dreams only to be derailed by injuries. When we first meet Ray, he's a teacher and basketball coach at the high school where he spent his glory years. Jessica left him for her dermatologist, Ronnie (Eddie Jemison). And Ray's house, which was passed to him from his parents (he hasn't maintained it much since then, or certainly improved it), burns partly to the ground. The kids he loves -- now sullen teens -- move back with their mother. See, Ray didn't pay his insurance. It's not like he didn't want to. He forgot to mail it. 'It's been a rough couple of years. Real rough,' says Ray, in a laconic voice over. He can't quite figure out that he brought it on himself, but that just makes him normal. Jane perfectly embodies a kind of regular Joe -- he's a man without being on the idiotic or obnoxious end of it; but neither is he a Renaissance man or even, one could argue, a man's man. He's a guy who grew up in Michigan, still lives there - in the tent, out back - and faced failed dreams years ago when his sports career imploded. Now, cluelessly missing that his needy wife was unhappy or that life was happening without him, Ray finds himself facing, as he ages, additional failed dreams that he's only coming to terms with as he heads into this midlife crisis. 'What happened to my life?' he asks. There's a forlorn Everyman in him. So naturally he goes to a get-rich-quick seminar only to meet Tanya (Jane Adams), a homely poet who used to teach in the school system. They had a fling. He never called her -- too earthy crunchy for Ray. At the seminar, the attendees are told to 'identify your own tool.' Find what you're good at. What's in your tool box that makes you special? Use it. Become a millionaire. Adams is brilliant as Tanya, who's been-stepped-on-all-her-life persona is also looking for its tool. What does she come up with? 'Lyric bread.' It's like a fortune cookie, only more akin to poems stuffed into baked goods. It's a terrible idea. But Ray, who only has the one tool (which he has no idea how to market), at least offers Tanya some advice: laminate the poems. She makes him some 'gluten-free Neruda cranberry walnut bread.' It's in moments like those -- watching the likeble lost souls who make up much of the world but haven't left their mark -- when you half wish that 'Hung' opted for a different title. Sure, it's partly perfect. But some people may not watch because of it and others will be disappointed it wasn't more salacious. 'Hung' is a lot more like 'The Savages' -- a darkly funny tale about existentialism and small town American dreams -- than 'Boogie Nights.' But it represents a wonderfully positive step in the right direction for HBO, which has nurtured a series that is so much more than its title and something you wouldn't see on a network. As for what you won't see -- just in case you're curious, and nobody is suggesting you are -- Jane does expose his naked back side quite a bit. But the front? Nope. And really, 'Hung' is about more than that, even when it's about that (and yes, with the help of Tanya as his poet-pimp, Ray does eventually begin the process of hiring himself out). 'Hung' gets a lot of elements right, including the baby-steps it takes into Ray's new side business. Heche nails the ambitious, needy wife and mother (the kids don't like her, though). Ah, the kids. Very un-network, which is refreshing. The pilot, directed by Alexander Payne ('Sideways'), is superb, and the first handful of episodes (there are 10 in the season), prove that the writing is consistently strong, the characters multi-dimensional and the tone both assured and surprising in its depth. With 'Hung,' HBO might have found its next big thing. 