Tuesday, May 3, 2011

On Sitcoms

(originally written for ALARM Magazine in November 2007)

No genre is as prevalent, recognizable, or unique to television as the sitcom. There are certainly many cases where the business of the TV industry holds back the artistry of the TV medium, but the evolution of the sitcom is not one of them. The business of grabbing larger audiences for bigger ratings and more ad revenue often has very different goals from the writers, producers and performers trying to make a good show. But the sitcom is as much a product of the business model as it is of the creative side. It is an invention of TV’s desire to attract audiences, and its evolution is a chronicle of some of the brightest, bravest, and most profitable moments in TV history.

The word “sitcom” is thrown around often enough, and the genre’s proper name, “situation comedy,” sounds laughably generic at first. As George Carlin once pointed out in a routine about the use of unnecessary words, everything is a “situation.” But, the name really does capture the intentions of the genre. A TV network wants to create a franchise that people will keep coming back to watch every week. But, the network also doesn’t want to scare off new viewers who might feel lost coming in halfway through a season. This is why serialized dramas, though they can capture tremendous audiences and buzz in their first run, don’t work as well in repeats, and are often not as valuable in the long term.

Enter the situation comedy. The producers create a premise (the “situation”), often explained in the opening credits, that acts as the model for the series. Each episode works within this structure, and presto! New viewers or casual fans only need know that basic premise to follow an episode, and the die hards can still enjoy coming back each week.

Sitcoms almost always center around families, and these families come in limitless shapes and sizes. From the Cleavers of Leave It To Beaver, to the Bunkers of All In The Family, to The Simpsons, family has always been the bread and butter of sitcom writers. A common offshoot is the “workplace family,” which has essentially all of the same elements as a sitcom centered around the home, but in a different setting. The news team from The Mary Tyler Moore Show, the gang of bartenders and barflies from Cheers, and the paper pushers of The Office are all classic workplace families. There are also countless hybrids that contain groups of friends who act as a family, like Three’s Company, Seinfeld, and, of course, Friends.

The evolution of the sitcom as a genre is the story of the deconstruction of these families, a story that continually delves deeper into the American character. Since we began in the 50’s and 60’s with mostly traditional, nuclear families like the Cleavers, we’ve met the audacious Archie Bunker, the hilarious and heartbreaking Evans family from Good Times, the dynamic Huxtables of The Cosby Show, and the colorful Connors from Roseanne. Like any other art form, sifting through countless imitators, we find truly groundbreaking series along the way, series that explore new corners of the American landscape and new aspects of American life.

No matter how much these series broke down traditional values and perceptions of family, at the end of the day they usually came back to the importance of that family sticking together through it all. The Cleavers represented the picture perfect, suburban nuclear family of post World War II America, where the only worry was what harmless trouble their lovable kids had gotten into. The Bunkers humor came from a generation gap that broke with these values, delving into the tumultuous dischord of post Vietnam America. Good Times explored the previously un-televised trials of lower income families in urban America, and Roseanne did the same for the vast working class of the Midwest. The Simpsons has taken all of these themes a step further, absurdly spoofing virtually every facet of American family life in over 400 episodes and counting.

But, in breaking down the traditional model and values of the American family, none of these series went quite so far as Married… with Children. One of the few truly dark comedies to leave a mark on television, Married let go of one conceit about family that no other sitcom had previously: that the family was inherently good, and they stayed together because they loved each other.

Homer Simpson may be one of the most wonderfully flawed characters in American literature, the Falstaff of the Midwest, but it is always his love for his family that redeems him in the end. Al Bundy of Married gets no such redemption. The characters are hilariously fatalistic, and there is no saving them in the end. As Bob Thompson, a media scholar and college professor of mine once said, “there is no question that everyone in that family would be better off if they were not in that family.”

There is one current series that follows in the dark comedy footsteps of Married, and takes it even further. The cable hit It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia on FX is the complete sitcom deconstruction of both the home and workplace families. Centered around several friends and family members who work at a bar in south Philadelphia, there has never been a series with such deeply flawed characters on television. No matter what problems arise, their answer is always to find the dumbest, most selfish solution, and to take advantage of each other and everyone around them in the worst possible way. Pick a deadly sin and every one of the characters on this show has it in spades.

I don’t like to consider myself a pessimist, but unfortunately, like the Cleavers in the 50’s and the Bunkers in the 60’s, I do think this series has something to say about the American character in the early 21st century. Through fierce exaggeration, great comedy has a way of holding up a magnifying glass to our culture, and if you do that honestly you won’t always like what you see. I’m not saying there aren’t great things about Americans, nor am I discounting the importance of family. But, in every pound of comedy there’s at least an ounce of truth, and maybe that’s what makes it so funny.

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