Janice
05-12-2008, 04:38 AM
http://www.connpost.com/women/ci_9210519 (http://www.connpost.com/women/ci_9210519)
'Seinfeld' may be gone, witticisms not forgotten
A few years ago, a friend and I went to a production of the Broadway musical "Dirty, Rotten Scoundrels," which was supposed to star stage and screen actor John Lithgow.
But, when we showed up for the play, we were informed that Lithgow wouldn't be performing that night. Instead, his significantly less famous understudy would play the part.
I was outraged. "Oh my God!" I yelped. "Lithgow totally 'Rochelle, Rochelled' us!"
My friend looked a little confused. "What do you mean?" "You know — like in that 'Seinfeld' episode with Bette Midler."
My friend stared at me blankly.
I stared back blankly. Surely, she remembered the episode in which Midler is bumped from a performance of the (fictional) musical "Rochelle, Rochelle," and replaced with an understudy, much to the annoyance of theatergoers? She didn't.
I was embarrassed for both of us.
I tell this story, because I kind of think of it as an urban legend. It's very rare for anyone not to get a reference to "Seinfeld."
The sitcom, which ran from 1990 to 1998, was, as nearly anyone with eyes, ears and a pulse will recall, centered on the adventures of stand-up comic Jerry Seinfeld (playing himself) and his three best friends — George (Jason Alexander), Elaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) and Kramer (Michael Richards).
Thursday marks the 10th anniversary of the show's series finale. Think about that. For roughly two years, the series has been off the air for longer than it was actually on the air.
Yet
"Seinfeld" is still a major part of the culture. Reruns of the series air in syndication roughly a zillion times a week. And it remains one of the most quoted sitcoms of all time. People — and not just TV nerds like me — still reference its dialogue in daily conversation. Think about it. Have you ever gone more than a day without hearing at least one "Seinfeld"-ian phrase, like "master of your domain," "Festivus," "close talker," or "mimbo?"
Have you ever followed the mention of someone's homosexuality with the phrase "not that there's anything wrong with that?"
Have you ever squawked "No soup for you!" while dressing someone down?
Sure, not everyone is familiar with these phrases (as the story about my friend proves), but a shocking number of people are.
"Seinfeld" was that rare series that was more than just a TV show.
Why? It's hard to say.
On the surface, it never should have worked. The characters were shallow, self-centered and frequently mean. They didn't grow. They didn't mature. In fact, I think they actually got nastier as the show wore on.
Also, the show's plots were often deceptively simple, almost inane. Jerry finds a library book that's decades overdue. Elaine gets George a job at her publishing house. The gang goes out for Chinese food and waits forever for a table.
Yet Seinfeld, co-creator Larry David and their team of writers spun these silly concepts and unsympathetic characters into something magical.
Look at almost any episode, and you'll find something that's not only hilarious, but insightful. The show, at its best, is a brilliant commentary on human behavior and social conventions. Take what is probably my favorite episode of the entire series, the aforementioned "The Library," in which Jerry learns that a copy of "The Tropic of Cancer" he checked out in 1971 is overdue. Jerry doesn't believe the book is overdue. He knows he returned it. The library thinks otherwise.
From that simple concept, we get a hilarious, and smart, examination of law enforcement. Yes, law enforcement. In a story about an overdue library book.
Instead of simply taking the conventional sitcom route of having Jerry bicker back and forth with the library over the issue, the show throws a curveball. It gives us Mr. Bookman, library cop — a man obsessed with keeping libraries safe from a rule-flaunting "joy boy" like Jerry. Bookman, as portrayed by the fantastic character actor Philip Baker Hall, laces into Jerry about the overdue book the way that Sipowicz laced into murderers on "NYPD Blue." He flaps his trenchcoat to prove points, berates his timid librarian and growls like a cranky bear.
When Jerry finally realizes that he made a mistake and that the book really is nearly 20 years overdue, he pays the fine. But Bookman still isn't satisfied.
"What's your problem?" asks an exasperated Jerry after yet another Bookman tirade.
"What's my problem?" Bookman snarls. "Punks like you! That's my problem!"
Then he storms out, vowing to be all over Jerry like "a pitbull on a poodle" if he ever screws up again.
Yes, it's funny. In fact, just typing the words "pitbull on a poodle" made me chuckle all over again.
But the episode also sends up our society's weird obsession with meaningless rules. "Seinfeld" was one of those sitcoms that made us remember that comedy doesn't have to be dumb, that wit comes from intelligence.
Sure, "Seinfeld" wasn't perfect. Some of the later episodes are a little too mean. And the series finale — while not quite the spectacular flameout that many have denounced it as — was a disappointment.
But there's a reason that the series is still such a presence in our lives 10 years after it ended. It was special. It was funny. It mattered. Even today, it remains master of the sitcom domain.
'Seinfeld' may be gone, witticisms not forgotten
A few years ago, a friend and I went to a production of the Broadway musical "Dirty, Rotten Scoundrels," which was supposed to star stage and screen actor John Lithgow.
But, when we showed up for the play, we were informed that Lithgow wouldn't be performing that night. Instead, his significantly less famous understudy would play the part.
I was outraged. "Oh my God!" I yelped. "Lithgow totally 'Rochelle, Rochelled' us!"
My friend looked a little confused. "What do you mean?" "You know — like in that 'Seinfeld' episode with Bette Midler."
My friend stared at me blankly.
I stared back blankly. Surely, she remembered the episode in which Midler is bumped from a performance of the (fictional) musical "Rochelle, Rochelle," and replaced with an understudy, much to the annoyance of theatergoers? She didn't.
I was embarrassed for both of us.
I tell this story, because I kind of think of it as an urban legend. It's very rare for anyone not to get a reference to "Seinfeld."
The sitcom, which ran from 1990 to 1998, was, as nearly anyone with eyes, ears and a pulse will recall, centered on the adventures of stand-up comic Jerry Seinfeld (playing himself) and his three best friends — George (Jason Alexander), Elaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) and Kramer (Michael Richards).
Thursday marks the 10th anniversary of the show's series finale. Think about that. For roughly two years, the series has been off the air for longer than it was actually on the air.
Yet
"Seinfeld" is still a major part of the culture. Reruns of the series air in syndication roughly a zillion times a week. And it remains one of the most quoted sitcoms of all time. People — and not just TV nerds like me — still reference its dialogue in daily conversation. Think about it. Have you ever gone more than a day without hearing at least one "Seinfeld"-ian phrase, like "master of your domain," "Festivus," "close talker," or "mimbo?"
Have you ever followed the mention of someone's homosexuality with the phrase "not that there's anything wrong with that?"
Have you ever squawked "No soup for you!" while dressing someone down?
Sure, not everyone is familiar with these phrases (as the story about my friend proves), but a shocking number of people are.
"Seinfeld" was that rare series that was more than just a TV show.
Why? It's hard to say.
On the surface, it never should have worked. The characters were shallow, self-centered and frequently mean. They didn't grow. They didn't mature. In fact, I think they actually got nastier as the show wore on.
Also, the show's plots were often deceptively simple, almost inane. Jerry finds a library book that's decades overdue. Elaine gets George a job at her publishing house. The gang goes out for Chinese food and waits forever for a table.
Yet Seinfeld, co-creator Larry David and their team of writers spun these silly concepts and unsympathetic characters into something magical.
Look at almost any episode, and you'll find something that's not only hilarious, but insightful. The show, at its best, is a brilliant commentary on human behavior and social conventions. Take what is probably my favorite episode of the entire series, the aforementioned "The Library," in which Jerry learns that a copy of "The Tropic of Cancer" he checked out in 1971 is overdue. Jerry doesn't believe the book is overdue. He knows he returned it. The library thinks otherwise.
From that simple concept, we get a hilarious, and smart, examination of law enforcement. Yes, law enforcement. In a story about an overdue library book.
Instead of simply taking the conventional sitcom route of having Jerry bicker back and forth with the library over the issue, the show throws a curveball. It gives us Mr. Bookman, library cop — a man obsessed with keeping libraries safe from a rule-flaunting "joy boy" like Jerry. Bookman, as portrayed by the fantastic character actor Philip Baker Hall, laces into Jerry about the overdue book the way that Sipowicz laced into murderers on "NYPD Blue." He flaps his trenchcoat to prove points, berates his timid librarian and growls like a cranky bear.
When Jerry finally realizes that he made a mistake and that the book really is nearly 20 years overdue, he pays the fine. But Bookman still isn't satisfied.
"What's your problem?" asks an exasperated Jerry after yet another Bookman tirade.
"What's my problem?" Bookman snarls. "Punks like you! That's my problem!"
Then he storms out, vowing to be all over Jerry like "a pitbull on a poodle" if he ever screws up again.
Yes, it's funny. In fact, just typing the words "pitbull on a poodle" made me chuckle all over again.
But the episode also sends up our society's weird obsession with meaningless rules. "Seinfeld" was one of those sitcoms that made us remember that comedy doesn't have to be dumb, that wit comes from intelligence.
Sure, "Seinfeld" wasn't perfect. Some of the later episodes are a little too mean. And the series finale — while not quite the spectacular flameout that many have denounced it as — was a disappointment.
But there's a reason that the series is still such a presence in our lives 10 years after it ended. It was special. It was funny. It mattered. Even today, it remains master of the sitcom domain.