VIDEO : `NEWSROOM' A FEAST OF WICKED SATIRE.

Byline: Rob Lowman Daily News Entertainment Editor

In the Canadian television series ``The Newsroom,'' George Findlay (Ken Finkleman), the self-absorbed producer of the nightly ``Toronto News,'' decides during a staff meeting that in a story about a killer virus in Zaire it should be added that ``sources speculate the virus may be airborne.'' Of course, those sources are all in George's head.

When challenged by an intern that no one has made such a statement and the network would be lying if it were put on the air, George corrects her: ``There's a big difference between saying sources speculate and lying. One is lying, and one is journalism.'' In ``The Newsroom,'' Finkleman, who wrote and directed the 13 episodes of the series, has fashioned a wicked satire of the news business and one of the smartest shows ever produced on television.

Unfortunately, most Americans missed it. The series played briefly on public televison last year (KCET aired it late Friday nights) with little fanfare. A few critics picked up on it. Time magazine hailed it, saying it had ``brilliant moments of deadpan humor. Imagine `Broadcast News' meets `Spinal Tap.' '' Entertainment Weekly called it ``the show `Murphy Brown'' should have been.'' And Vanity Fair glowingly profiled Finkleman last August. The only problem was that few people had gotten to see ``The Newsroom.''

Now, thanks to Acorn Media, all 13 episodes of the show are available on home video in a four-volume set. Even better, they are the director's cut, which means racier language than you would hear on network television. Call it the cable cut.

(If you can't find it in your video store, they should be able to order it, or you can check out Acorn's Web site, acornmedia.com. The set goes for $59.95, or $19.95 individually.

There are two things that make ``The Newsroom'' unique. First, Finkleman, a former Hollywood screenwriter (he wrote and directed ``Airplane 2'') who fled Tinseltown, conceived the series as a finite run. So, the episodes build to a grand and hilarious conclusion.

Second, it goes beyond the mere idea that the news business is rotten.

``There's always this need to impose a narrative,'' Finkleman has said about journalism. ``That's what I find very destructive.''

And it's his character, George, who is always punching up the news in his quest for bigger ratings, never letting facts - or morality - paint him into a corner.

In the episode titled ``The Kevorkian Joke,'' George finds out about a tape being passed around the newsroom on which a failing screenwriter threatens to commit suicide. George decides to invite the screenwriter to air his reasons each night during ratings week, cumulating - it is hoped - with an on-air suicide. George is quick to counsel the screenwriter that he's not allowed to encourage the screenwriter to kill himself, but that it would look pretty bad if he spent the week talking and didn't follow through. The segments, of course, are a hit, helped by the jokes written by the newsroom staff. By the fifth day, the screenwriter has an agent, offers from Hollywood and is demanding $50,000 for his final appearance.

He's thwarted. George already has won the ratings war, so he cancels the segment. But Finkleman has one more twist.

The screenwriter was going to kill himself over his girlfriend, who comes to George and asks that she not become part of the story. He agrees. Not out of the goodness of his heart, but because George is a 40-something lothario and within minutes is subtly hitting on her. Later, when the screenwriter comes to thank George for saving his life, deeming the experience positive after all, guess who he finds together.

The newsroom itself is a Fellini-esque world, ruled by Machiavellian, if comical, characters. The news is secondary to the story, the story to the images. During a possible Chernobyl-like meltdown outside Toronto, the crisis is barely reported while George tries to add more pizazz to the promo, including scenes from Hiroshima, the O.J. trial and the Sistine Chapel. But all this is secondary to George's real obsessions - bran muffins and his BMW.

Are newsrooms really like this? Let's just say this: They're not as funny.

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Photo: no caption (the newsroom)