Robert David Sullivan

Norman Lear on TV comedy and studio audiences

Vox's Todd VanDerWerff has a nice interview with 92-year-old television producer Norman Lear, who created All in the Family, Maude, Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman, and other landmark series in the 1970s. As VanDerWerff writes, Lear "took a medium that seemed stuck on avoiding the perils of the present and dragged it, kicking and screaming, toward confrontation with the important political and social issues of the day."

For years, I've been defending the three-camera, live-studio-audience sitcom format (as have VanDerWerff and other TV critics like Jaime Weinman), so I liked this quote from Lear:

When you look at those shows, you see those immense closeups of Maude, or of Archie, or Edith, and the camera's hovering there, while the actor is—the best way of being able to put it—riding the emotions of the audience. The audience is laughing longer than expected. The actor is holding onto that. He's got a nose twitch where there wasn't a nose twitch, because they weren't laughing that long. And they're laughing a little bit more to that nose twitch. It's something that can only happen between a live audience and the onstage performer. I think that's why the shows feel so different, because they were made where the audience and the actors were working together.

That view is not shared by many people under 40. Now audiences want comedies that move fast and aim for unpredictability rather than emotional resonance.

Parks & Recreation, Veep, and the politics of the sitcom

This week NBC announced that the final season of Parks and Recreation will begin on January 13. I wrote about Parks, Veep, and other TV shows about politics for America magazine in November ("Uncivil Society"). Below is a longer version of that essay. Please check out my ongoing blog at America's website; today's post looks at how pop-culture obsessions like Serial and True Detective are now paralleled in political journalism and news coverage of events like the killing of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri.

Fifteen years after the premiere of The West Wing, there are more TV shows about politics than ever before, with Scandal among the biggest hits on broadcast television and a half-dozen others in production on various platforms, including Netflix and Amazon. But the trend is not likely to boost interest in this fall’s real-life elections.

It turns out that the key to a successful TV show about politics is to take out the policy. Public officials can hold our interest only if they’re not able to do much of anything. Passing legislation and delivering social services aren’t as dramatic, or as funny, as scheming and outwitting opponents just to stay in office.

The cynical approach to politics is to be expected on series that rely on thrills and plot twists, but sitcoms have not always been so dismissive toward taking an interest in one’s larger community. It was only after the sitcom got hard-edged that politics became an attractive topic.

The rise and fall of empathy

At its peak in the 1970s, the American sitcom was all about empathy. All in the Family teaches the virtues of tolerance, and M*A*S*H attacks the dehumanization necessary to wage war. On the police comedy Barney Miller, the arrestees have stories that would challenge anyone’s “lock ’em up” attitude; the psychology patients on The Bob Newhart Show just need to know they aren’t alone; and on Taxi even people in New York City, including Jeffrey Tambor as a congressman who clumsily pursues cabbie Elaine, usually turn out to be decent souls.

The 40th anniversary of Veal Prince Orloff

November 17 is the 40th anniversary of my favorite episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, in which Mary throws a dinner party and almost "kills" Sue Ann's Veal Prince Orloff by making her leave it in the oven a few minutes too long. I ranked "The Dinner Party" No. 6 in my Top 100 Sitcom Episodes of All Time. Part of my reasoning:

The Mary Tyler Moore Show is a "nice" 1970s sitcom in which differences are usually resolved by the end of an episode. In contrast, social situations on the 1990s Frasier, which otherwise shares MTM's sophisticated style, almost always end with characters fleeing in confusion or anger — as is also the case with Seinfeld. Other sitcoms, like Friends and Parks and Recreation, tend to have it both ways, putting its characters through humiliating situations but ending episodes on optimistic notes. "The Dinner Party" probably would be considered too tame for TV today (the Veal Prince Orloff would surely end up on the floor somehow), but it conveys the psychological torture of trying to get people to have a good time better than any of today's meaner sitcoms.

See the entire post here.

TV reads: Awesome Don Draper, mockumentaries, zombie Community, Jon Cryer, MTM

Here are some worthwhile pieces on TV from the past week.

• Time's James Poniewozik reviews last week's "Don is back!" episode of Mad Men and makes a good point about the divided fan bases of shows with asshole protagonists:  "We will indulge them, at least if we’re not the ones being hurt by them, so long as they are charming and optimistic and capable. Their job is to win and be awesome. [...]  This may also, in part, explain why antihero shows like Breaking Bad, Boardwalk Empire, and The Sopranos have a vocal set of fans who love stories about the characters’ areas of competence — be it drug dealing, Mob hits, or advertising — and hate family drama and pillow talk."

• Christopher Guest’s mockumentary series The Family Tree premieres on May 12, a few days before The Office has its series finale. The Boston Globe’s Matthew Gilbert reviews the show here (paywall); he also examined the mockumentary in 2010, as the genre settled into a groove: “They reject the strict artifice of conventional sitcoms — the timing, acting style, and choreography — in favor of real-life atmosphere. […] They convey to us a sense of what it might be like to be in close proximity to rare birds such as puffed-up boss David Brent of the British “Office’ or deluded sitcom has-been Valerie Cherish of The Comeback.”

• NBC's Community is coming back for a fifth season, reports Todd VanDerWerff: "This [...] officially turns Community into the new Rules Of Engagement, in terms of programming strategy. Obviously, Community is a much better show than Rules, but both are produced by Sony Pictures Television, both have seen surprisingly long runs, and both turned into utility players in the face of their networks not really having anything else." A lot of fans just want to put the show out of its misery after a stupefying season finale; I wouldn't be surprised if it comes back with a run of strong episodes. NBC has almost certainly given up on trying to broaden its appeal, and I'm curious to see what the show will be like without any backstage drama.

• The A.V. Club’s Will Harris has a great interview with Jon Cryer that covers working with Charlie Sheen on a never-hip sitcom and doing a Robert Altman movie in which the director flung fake bird shit at him. I’m most interested in the sitcom The Famous Teddy Z, which got critical buzz but didn’t make it past one season. The entire pilot episode is embedded in the A.V. Club interview (as of now). It couldn’t have been helped by the insanely 1980s, Miami Vice-light opening credits, which led into a low-key, WKRP-type workplace sitcom.

• After NBA player Jason Collins came out as gay, former Cheers co-producer Ken Levine revisited that show's episode in which one of Sam's former baseball teammates comes out of the closet ("The Boys in the Bar"). The episode was a hit with the studio audience until the very end: "There’s nothing a writer craves more than hearing big laughs. Now we’re at the end. The two gay guys lean in and kiss Norm, and… Silence. Dead silence. You could hear crickets." 

• Jaime Weinman responds to Salon writer Willa Paskin's assertion that The Mary Tyler Moore Show is good but not very funny when watched in 2013. (Paskin compares it only to 30 Rock, so I don't know if she simply doesn't like the pace of three-camera sitcoms.) Weinman ponders how classic TV episodes are usually disappointing to people who didn't experience the thrill of discovering them: "A great episode of a favourite TV show, like a great song by a favourite artist, is one that jumps out and hits you as being better than the level of the person’s usual work (even if that usual level is very high). It is what you’ve come to expect from the work, and yet more than that. You were expecting the normal level of entertainment, and unexpectedly found that it was on a higher plane. That unexpectedness is what burns the experience into your memory."

For a better democracy, watch more made-up stuff

The Boston Globe's Brainiac blog gets at why I watch so much scripted television and avoid all news programming (though I read nonfiction constantly). Brainiac writer Kevin Hartnett summarizes the work of philosopher Richard Rorty, who argued that fiction can bridge political differences. For "reason" in the passage below, you can substitute Fox News and MSNBC:

To create a more inclusive society you need to expand community boundaries; you can’t use reason to expand those boundaries because reason itself is parochial; fiction, however, has the power to cross communities and make strangers intelligible to each other; and once a community has been enlarged, it becomes possible for the members of the expanded community to practice politics together using shared standards of reason.

Last year Jonathan Gottschall made a similar argument in the Globe's Ideas section:

fiction is doing something that all political factions should be able to get behind. Beyond the local battles of the culture wars, virtually all storytelling, regardless of genre, increases society’s fund of empathy and reinforces an ethic of decency that is deeper than politics.

I agree, and I would take the argument further to say that comedic fiction (which some consider more of a waste of time than fiction itself) is especially effective at building empathy. That was one of my motivations for the Top 100 Sitcom Episodes project. So big, important TV series like The Wire are great, but you can also be a good citizen by watching The Big Bang Theory.

 

A visit to Archie Bunker's house

Archie Bunker's house in Queens is still standing, flagpole and all, reports Scouting New York, the terrific blog about movie and TV locations in NYC. At least it's the Bunkers' residence as seen in the opening credits of All in the Family, which does not match up at all with the Hollywood set on which the action took place. The interior set has the front door in the right corner rather than between two sets of windows, and in several episodes we glimpse a front porch that doesn't exist at the "real" house. But it seems right for a representation of the Bunkers' neighborhood of Astoria.

No touching! TV shows and non-sexual shipping

Prompted by the first kiss between Nick and Jess on New Girl, Todd VanDerWerff writes about will-they/won't-they relationships on television, and the benefits (and difficulties) of staying on the chaste side of the equation:

What I am is something closer to a “friendship shipper.” Instead of wanting to see two people on a show I like sleep together, I have a tendency to want to see them strike up a mutually beneficial friendship that skirts the uneasy lines of sexual politics and becomes a relationship of deep and abiding respect, but no more. When, in the 30 Rock finale, Jack Donaghy professed his platonic love for Liz Lemon — in German, no less — it was the ultimate moment for the friendship shipper I am deep down inside. I just want these people to respect and appreciate each other, then maybe go and get a sandwich together so they can bitch about work. Is that too much to ask?

I appreciate the distinction. A deep friendship is one of the most rewarding things in life, and it should be represented in popular culture. Jack and Liz (please don't combine the names) were the heart of 30 Rock, and it was important that each trusted the other not to endanger their strange compatability for the sake of sexual adventure. And I think most of us agree with VanDerWerff on Mad Men's Don and Peggy. ("If the series finale of Mad Men ended with Don giving Peggy a firm handshake and saying, “Y’done good, young lady,” well, I think my heart would just about melt.")

Top 100 sitcom episodes of all time, No. 1

1. "Never Bathe on Saturday," The Dick Van Dyke Show (1965)

Welcome to the “100 Best Sitcom Episodes of All Time,” a countdown for 2012. Each episode will get a separate blog post, counting backward toward No. 1.  A list of the programs revealed so far is here (and on Pinterest), and an introduction to the project is here.

I don't trust people who don't like sitcoms.

It's not about their honesty or dependability. It's about how they get their kicks. To paraphrase 30 Rock's Jack Donaghy, I would not go with a sitcom hater to a second location. Sorry, Paul Krugman (who calls sitcoms "a cultural form that’s very, very stupid"), but we won't be spending much time together.

We all like entertainment that causes discomfort. I'm socially awkward and easily embarrassed, so I get a vicarious thrill out of seeing sitcom characters deal with those same feelings. If you're outgoing and self-confident, you may need something more intense, like horror movies, to get the same thrill. If you're Krugman, you may prefer to get angry at idiots saying predictably stupid things on cable news. 

I am not saying that all people who hate sitcoms are incapable of human empathy. (Some are just pretentious.) I'm just saying that I don't need to see the Saw movies when I can squirm at the thought of getting my big toe stuck in a bathtub tap.

Top 100 sitcom episodes of all time, No. 2: "Communication Problems," Fawlty Towers

2. "Communication Problems," Fawlty Towers (1979)

Welcome to the “100 Best Sitcom Episodes of All Time,” a countdown for 2012. Each episode will get a separate blog post, counting backward toward No. 1.  A list of the programs revealed so far is here (and on Pinterest), and an introduction to the project is here.

Sybil: If I find out the money on that horse was yours, you know what I'll do, Basil.
Basil: You'll have to sew 'em back on first.

If I had simply ranked the sitcom episodes I've laughed the hardest at, this list would include seven or eight Fawlty Towers entries, or most of the 12 episodes that have ever been produced. John Cleese and Connie Booth, who play Basil and Polly, also co-wrote the series, and their timpano-like concoctions of lies, misunderstandings, and pratfalls are architectural wonders. 

Hotel owner Basil Fawlty, one of the most anti-heroic characters ever to lead a sitcom, has already appeared at No. 65, in the riotously demented "The Germans." In that post, I tried to get at his perverse appeal:

He's no one's idea of a hero. Still, in his fits of temper he swings in and out of a zone where we can understand his frustrations. Basil has an infantile attachment to order and predictibility, similar to a young child who freaks out if served cereal in the wrong bowl. He has an anti-id: Ashamed of his own pleasure drive, he constantly tries to thwart everyone else's. Unfortunately, he runs a hotel in a resort town, where people go specifically to pursue pleasure and toss aside rules.

In "The Germans," a blow to the head causes Basil to lose his already limited diplomatic skills, and the episode climaxes with him doing a silly-walk Hitler impersonation across the hotel lobby. "Communication Problems," which may be Cleese's most sympathetic turn as Basil, does not rely as much on the bonkers version of the hotel owner. He spends much of the episode simply trying to be heard (and understood) by other people, a situation that often vexes the most well-adjusted of us. Basil, of course, is not well-adjusted, so he gets especially frustrated. He's like a trapped animal, resigned to a loveless marriage and an awful job but hoping to get a bit of happiness from winning a bet on a horse race — despite his wife's prohibition on gambling.

Top 100 sitcom episodes of all time, No. 3: "Edith's Problem," All in the Family

3. "Edith's Problem," All in the Family (1972)

Welcome to the “100 Best Sitcom Episodes of All Time,” a countdown for 2012. Each episode will get a separate blog post, counting backward toward No. 1.  A list of the programs revealed so far is here (and on Pinterest), and an introduction to the project is here.

Archie: This change of life is a lousy thing, you know. A man ain't got no say in it at all.

It's indisputable that All in the Family is one of the most important sitcoms in TV history. "It may also have been a high-water mark for television in terms of how much impact a single series can have in shaping American culture," writes Neil Genzlinger in the New York Times review of the All in the Family boxed set. Genzinger points out that the show was No. 1 in the ratings for most of its run, representing "one of the last times that the best show on TV was also the most popular show on TV." (Fans of Seinfeld, ER, and Friends may disagree.)

There's more debate over whether the show has aged well. Those who say no (and I've seen this view mostly in website comments rather than among professional critics) tend to focus on what were the most controversial episodes, and they're not necessarily the best executed. In particular, it can feel odd in 2012 to watch an episode in which the studio audience screams with laughter because working-class, reactionary Archie Bunker comes face-to-face with a black person in a position of authority. (Though the punch line in "Archie in the Cellar" — "Forgive me, Lord. The Jeffersons was right." — is still hilarious.)

Archie: I know all about your women's troubles there, Edith, but when I had the hernia that time, I didn't make you wear the truss!
Michael: Come on, Archie!
Gloria: Daddy!
Archie: No, no, no, Edith! If you're gonna have the change of life, you gotta do it right now! I'm gonna give you just thirty seconds. Now, come on, change!

Top 100 sitcom episodes of all time, No. 4: "I'll Be Seeing You," Cheers

4. "I'll Be Seeing You," Cheers (1984)

Welcome to the “100 Best Sitcom Episodes of All Time,” a countdown for 2012. Each episode will get a separate blog post, counting backward toward No. 1.  A list of the programs revealed so far is here (and on Pinterest), and an introduction to the project is here.

"We have sunk as low as two human beings can sink. There's no degradation left!" Lucille Ball may have said that to Desi Arnaz in real life, but it's hard to imagine those lines on I Love Lucy.

When Diane says it to Sam on the second-season finale of Cheers, after they've repeatedly slapped each other and are stuck in a nose-pulling travesty of a mating dance, it is shocking and suspenseful as well as hilarious. The moment can never be the same as it was in 1984, when Cheers was bringing the sitcom into unexplored territory. Now we see romantic cliffhangers all the time and know how easily things can be reset (see How I Met Your Mother), but when "I'll Be Seeing You" first aired, it really seemed possible for Diane would to walk out of Sam's bar forever.

The episode takes place a year after Sam and Diane bowed to the inevitable and became a couple (see "Showdown"), and we're seeing what happens long after the closing credits on a screwball comedy like It Happened One Night or a Spencer Tracy/Katherine Hepburn film. The movies have conditioned us to think that opposites attract, but in the case of the hedonist bartender and the intellectual waitress, their differences only grow more problematic. Sam and Diane may have genuinely saw a chance to better themselves through their relationship, but they've actually spent more energy trying to control each other.

Diane: Oh my God, Sam, I've made you a babbling idiot.
Sam: Who are you calling a babbling idiot?
Diane: You don't have to get upset. I'm actually criticizing myself.
Sam: You just called me a babbling idiot and you're criticizing yourself? Do me a favor, let me criticize me for a while. You're sickening!

Top 100 sitcom episodes of all time, No. 5: "Man in a Hurry," The Andy Griffith Show

5. "Man in a Hurry," The Andy Griffith Show (1963)

Welcome to the “100 Best Sitcom Episodes of All Time,” a countdown for 2012. Each episode will get a separate blog post, counting backward toward No. 1.  A list of the programs revealed so far is here (and on Pinterest), and an introduction to the project is here.

My idea of hell is living in a small town like Mayberry, North Carolina. So it's easy for me to identify with Malcolm Tucker, the "Man in a Hurry," who's stuck on Andy's front porch while he waits for his car to be fixed.

Barney: (while stretching his arms, to Andy) You know what I think I'm gonna do?
Andy: What?
Barney: I'm gonna go home, have me a little nap, then go over to Thelma Lou's and watch a little TV.
Andy: Mmm-hmm.
Barney: Yeah, I believe that's what I'll do: go home... have a nap... then over to Thelma Lou's for TV.
Andy: Mmm-hmm.
Barney: Yep. That's the plan: right home... a little nap...
Mr. Tucker: (explodes) For the love of Mike, do it, do it. Just do it! Go take a nap, go to Thelma Lou's for TV. Just do it!
Barney: (indignant) What's the hurry? (gets up) I'll see ya, Anj.

"Man in a Hurry" is the quintessential Andy Griffith Show episode (another one, "Opie's Ill-Gotten Gain," is at No. 99 on this list), but it's written almost entirely from Mr. Tucker's point of view. This is unusual for a sitcom, a genre that usually focuses on how regular characters are affected by an outsider rather than the other way around.