TMC
05-07-2004, 02:23 AM
http://www.nj.com/entertainment/led...73251152460.xml
Alan Sepinwall on TV
The long-running hit changed the face of sitcoms, for better or (mostly) worse
Monday, May 03, 2004
"Friends" (Thursday at 9 p.m., Ch. 4) The gang will be there for each other one last time in the one-hour series finale, preceded at 8 p.m. by a one-hour clip special.
I COME NOT to praise "Friends," but to bury all the knuckleheads who used it as an excuse to ruin TV comedy.
Bear in mind that I hold no ill will towards "Friends" itself. I won't exactly miss it, but only because the last few seasons have been painful, while the excellent early seasons will be in rerun syndication forever.
At its best, "Friends" was a brilliant comic contraption, a snappy blend of off-kilter punchlines and off-kilter behavior. Even at its worst, it was still cheerful and sweet.
The problem isn't with "Friends," but with the havoc that "Friends" inadvertently wreaked on primetime. Imitation is the sincerest form of television, and there may not be another show in TV history that's been as frequently imitated -- or as badly imitated -- as "Friends."
The reason for the show's success -- smart writing, likable actors who knew their way around a punchline, hard-to-bottle chemistry -- were obvious to anyone with half a brain, but a quarter-brain is usually the best you can hope for from the people making the big money decisions in Hollywood.
Instead of searching for sitcom writers with experience, vision and a distinctive sense of humor, they just tried to clone the most surface elements of "Friends," making "Friends" fallacy after "Friends" fallacy. To wit:
"Friends" fallacy No. 1: Young, pretty people are always good at comedy.
Make a quick mental list of the great TV clowns of all time. Now cross off all but the names of those you'd consider conventionally attractive. Pretty short list now, huh?
This isn't to say that good-looking people can't make you laugh. Lucille Ball and Mary Tyler Moore were classic beauties. Bill Cosby and Dick Van Dyke cut fairly dashing figures in their younger years. Nor is it to say that being funny-looking automatically makes someone funny. If it did, Daniel Stern wouldn't have two unwatchable, short-lived comedies being whited-out from his resume.
But before "Friends," a bald fortysomething guy who could do great pratfalls had a much better chance of getting on TV than a twentysomething stiff with six-pack abs. Sitcoms had a great tradition of stars who weren't beautiful, to say the least, from Jackie Gleason and Art Carney to Michael Richards and Jason Alexander. Laughs used to be much more important than looks when it came to sitcom casting.
Then the "Friends" producers hit the jackpot of all time: They found six young, terrifically attractive performers, all of whom had real comic talent. This was a fluke, a convergence of forces likely never to be duplicated, but suddenly it wasn't enough for networks to look for good new comedies; they had to find hot new comedies.
"Seinfeld" wouldn't have gotten on the air at NBC if it were developed after "Friends." "Barney Miller," with its cast full of rumpled middle-aged men, would have been retooled into a sitcom "21 Jump Street."
Overall, sitcom casts are younger and more attractive than they ever were before "Friends." But the pool of actors who are pretty and funny was awfully shallow pre-"Friends," and it dried up completely after the rush to clone the show.
"Friends" Fallacy No. 2: The audience only wants to see hip comedies about single people living in big cities.
If you want to see the havoc "Friends" wreaked on comedy development, look no further than ABC. Pre-"Friends," ABC was known for its family comedies, usually set in blue-collar Midwestern locales ("Roseanne," "Home Improvement," "Grace Under Fire').
Then "Friends" hit, and someone high up in the ranks at ABC had a mid-life crisis and decided he'd rather be running a cool place like NBC -- or, failing that, he'd rather turn ABC into an NBC clone.
Out went the families in the heartland. In came soulless, "edgy" comedies set in large metropolitan areas. Some had their moments, like "Spin City," but most were along the lines of "Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place."
Instead of presenting comedy characters from every geographic and demographic group, now networks only wanted young hotties looking for love in New York.
Family shows started to make a comeback after "Everybody Loves Raymond" hit, but there's still a mentality in the TV business that a Manhattan-based comedy starring Lea Thompson would be preferable to a rural sitcom starring Wanda Sykes.
"Friends" Fallacy No. 3: Every sitcom must be part comedy, part soap opera.
Other sitcoms, like "Cheers" and "Seinfeld," had told continuing stories before, but never to the extent of "Friends," where every episode may as well have ended with harpsichord music and a melodramatic announcer declaring, "Will Ross tell Rachel how he feels? Will Monica and Chandler adopt their baby? Will Joey ever finish that sandwich? Tune in next week..."
The sitcom as soap thing can work, but only if it happens naturally. The "Friends" writers never intended to put Ross and Rachel together until they saw how David Schwimmer and Jennifer Aniston played off each other.
But after young America became obsessed with that couple, a mandate spread across Hollywood: New comedies must have unrequited love, ongoing plots and as many Very Special Episodes as possible. So the "Frasier" writers played up the minor Niles and Daphne running joke until it took over the show, the writers of "Caroline in the City" had Caroline's blatantly gay assistant fall in love with her, and Dharma and Greg's marriage had to hit the skids every couple of seasons.
"Friends" Fallacy No. 4: The family hour? What family hour?
"Friends" creators Marta Kauffman and David Crane's previous show was the HBO ode to nudity "Dream On," so you knew their next one would be full of sex gags. And it was. Remember Ross' misfiring juice box? Rachel and Monica fighting over the last condom in the apartment? The girls teaching Joey how to "be there for her?"
All funny moments, but they had a chilling effect on the TV world around them. While sex had crept into the "family hour" in the past, no show had ever been this raunchy this often this early in the evening.
The family hour was never an official concept, but there had always been a gentleman's agreement among the networks to leave the grown-up stuff for 9 o'clock or later. After "Friends" moved to 8 o'clock and didn't change its content one iota, the dam burst, flooding the family hour with bedroom and bathroom humor. By the late '90s, it was hard to find a show in early primetime that wasn't laden with sex jokes.
Even worse, they were bad sex jokes. The "Friends" team had an affinity for writing that kind of material, but not everyone can do it. Entire shows sprung up filled with nothing but sex jokes, all of them tawdry and wince-inducing. There's an entire generation of writers who don't seem to know any other kind of humor -- and aren't even good at the one kind they do know.
"Friends" Fallacy No. 5: Anyone who does well on "Friends" automatically deserves their own show.
Jonathan Silverman delivered Ross' son Ben, then became "The Single Guy." Brooke Shields stalked Joey, then got "Suddenly Susan." Tom Selleck dated Monica for a while, then was cast in "The Closer." Paget Brewster dated both Joey and Chandler, then parlayed it into "For Love or Money."
Mercifully, not every "Friends" guest star got their own sitcom -- "The Jean-Claude Van Damme Show," anyone? -- but casting directors seemed to suffer from the delusion that everyone who appeared on the show was inherently funny, as opposed to benefiting from great writing and co-stars.
"Friends" Fallacy No. 6: Sitcoms can and should become huge hits right away.
From the beginning, "Friends" flew to the top of the ratings like it had been shot out of a cannon. That almost never happens. The last sitcom to become a monster immediately was "The Cosby Show" a decade earlier.
Before "Friends," patience was the order of the day for grooming comedy hits. "Cheers" was one of the lowest-rated shows on TV its first season, and it eventually rose to number one. "Seinfeld" was such a loser at first that its initial three seasons had one, four and 12 episodes, respectively, and we all know how it turned out.
But the fluke instant success of "Friends" convinced TV executives that all of their shows should hit right away, or they were worthless. With rare exceptions like "Raymond," which took four years to reach the top, post-"Friends" sitcoms have a much shorter leash than they used to, and promising shows that might have been able to grow into hits over time were no longer given that chance in a penny-wise, pound-foolish new programming world.
Again, I blame "Friends" itself for none of this. It would be like making God the fall guy for the Crusades. The "Friends" writers, directors and stars were just trying to make a cute and funny show, and they succeeded more often than not. But the aftermath of their innocent work has been bloody, horrifying to watch, and so damaging that it could take years to recover.
Alan Sepinwall can be reached at asepinwall@starledger.com, or by writing him at 1 Star-Ledger Plaza, Newark, N.J. 07102-1200.
Alan Sepinwall on TV
The long-running hit changed the face of sitcoms, for better or (mostly) worse
Monday, May 03, 2004
"Friends" (Thursday at 9 p.m., Ch. 4) The gang will be there for each other one last time in the one-hour series finale, preceded at 8 p.m. by a one-hour clip special.
I COME NOT to praise "Friends," but to bury all the knuckleheads who used it as an excuse to ruin TV comedy.
Bear in mind that I hold no ill will towards "Friends" itself. I won't exactly miss it, but only because the last few seasons have been painful, while the excellent early seasons will be in rerun syndication forever.
At its best, "Friends" was a brilliant comic contraption, a snappy blend of off-kilter punchlines and off-kilter behavior. Even at its worst, it was still cheerful and sweet.
The problem isn't with "Friends," but with the havoc that "Friends" inadvertently wreaked on primetime. Imitation is the sincerest form of television, and there may not be another show in TV history that's been as frequently imitated -- or as badly imitated -- as "Friends."
The reason for the show's success -- smart writing, likable actors who knew their way around a punchline, hard-to-bottle chemistry -- were obvious to anyone with half a brain, but a quarter-brain is usually the best you can hope for from the people making the big money decisions in Hollywood.
Instead of searching for sitcom writers with experience, vision and a distinctive sense of humor, they just tried to clone the most surface elements of "Friends," making "Friends" fallacy after "Friends" fallacy. To wit:
"Friends" fallacy No. 1: Young, pretty people are always good at comedy.
Make a quick mental list of the great TV clowns of all time. Now cross off all but the names of those you'd consider conventionally attractive. Pretty short list now, huh?
This isn't to say that good-looking people can't make you laugh. Lucille Ball and Mary Tyler Moore were classic beauties. Bill Cosby and Dick Van Dyke cut fairly dashing figures in their younger years. Nor is it to say that being funny-looking automatically makes someone funny. If it did, Daniel Stern wouldn't have two unwatchable, short-lived comedies being whited-out from his resume.
But before "Friends," a bald fortysomething guy who could do great pratfalls had a much better chance of getting on TV than a twentysomething stiff with six-pack abs. Sitcoms had a great tradition of stars who weren't beautiful, to say the least, from Jackie Gleason and Art Carney to Michael Richards and Jason Alexander. Laughs used to be much more important than looks when it came to sitcom casting.
Then the "Friends" producers hit the jackpot of all time: They found six young, terrifically attractive performers, all of whom had real comic talent. This was a fluke, a convergence of forces likely never to be duplicated, but suddenly it wasn't enough for networks to look for good new comedies; they had to find hot new comedies.
"Seinfeld" wouldn't have gotten on the air at NBC if it were developed after "Friends." "Barney Miller," with its cast full of rumpled middle-aged men, would have been retooled into a sitcom "21 Jump Street."
Overall, sitcom casts are younger and more attractive than they ever were before "Friends." But the pool of actors who are pretty and funny was awfully shallow pre-"Friends," and it dried up completely after the rush to clone the show.
"Friends" Fallacy No. 2: The audience only wants to see hip comedies about single people living in big cities.
If you want to see the havoc "Friends" wreaked on comedy development, look no further than ABC. Pre-"Friends," ABC was known for its family comedies, usually set in blue-collar Midwestern locales ("Roseanne," "Home Improvement," "Grace Under Fire').
Then "Friends" hit, and someone high up in the ranks at ABC had a mid-life crisis and decided he'd rather be running a cool place like NBC -- or, failing that, he'd rather turn ABC into an NBC clone.
Out went the families in the heartland. In came soulless, "edgy" comedies set in large metropolitan areas. Some had their moments, like "Spin City," but most were along the lines of "Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place."
Instead of presenting comedy characters from every geographic and demographic group, now networks only wanted young hotties looking for love in New York.
Family shows started to make a comeback after "Everybody Loves Raymond" hit, but there's still a mentality in the TV business that a Manhattan-based comedy starring Lea Thompson would be preferable to a rural sitcom starring Wanda Sykes.
"Friends" Fallacy No. 3: Every sitcom must be part comedy, part soap opera.
Other sitcoms, like "Cheers" and "Seinfeld," had told continuing stories before, but never to the extent of "Friends," where every episode may as well have ended with harpsichord music and a melodramatic announcer declaring, "Will Ross tell Rachel how he feels? Will Monica and Chandler adopt their baby? Will Joey ever finish that sandwich? Tune in next week..."
The sitcom as soap thing can work, but only if it happens naturally. The "Friends" writers never intended to put Ross and Rachel together until they saw how David Schwimmer and Jennifer Aniston played off each other.
But after young America became obsessed with that couple, a mandate spread across Hollywood: New comedies must have unrequited love, ongoing plots and as many Very Special Episodes as possible. So the "Frasier" writers played up the minor Niles and Daphne running joke until it took over the show, the writers of "Caroline in the City" had Caroline's blatantly gay assistant fall in love with her, and Dharma and Greg's marriage had to hit the skids every couple of seasons.
"Friends" Fallacy No. 4: The family hour? What family hour?
"Friends" creators Marta Kauffman and David Crane's previous show was the HBO ode to nudity "Dream On," so you knew their next one would be full of sex gags. And it was. Remember Ross' misfiring juice box? Rachel and Monica fighting over the last condom in the apartment? The girls teaching Joey how to "be there for her?"
All funny moments, but they had a chilling effect on the TV world around them. While sex had crept into the "family hour" in the past, no show had ever been this raunchy this often this early in the evening.
The family hour was never an official concept, but there had always been a gentleman's agreement among the networks to leave the grown-up stuff for 9 o'clock or later. After "Friends" moved to 8 o'clock and didn't change its content one iota, the dam burst, flooding the family hour with bedroom and bathroom humor. By the late '90s, it was hard to find a show in early primetime that wasn't laden with sex jokes.
Even worse, they were bad sex jokes. The "Friends" team had an affinity for writing that kind of material, but not everyone can do it. Entire shows sprung up filled with nothing but sex jokes, all of them tawdry and wince-inducing. There's an entire generation of writers who don't seem to know any other kind of humor -- and aren't even good at the one kind they do know.
"Friends" Fallacy No. 5: Anyone who does well on "Friends" automatically deserves their own show.
Jonathan Silverman delivered Ross' son Ben, then became "The Single Guy." Brooke Shields stalked Joey, then got "Suddenly Susan." Tom Selleck dated Monica for a while, then was cast in "The Closer." Paget Brewster dated both Joey and Chandler, then parlayed it into "For Love or Money."
Mercifully, not every "Friends" guest star got their own sitcom -- "The Jean-Claude Van Damme Show," anyone? -- but casting directors seemed to suffer from the delusion that everyone who appeared on the show was inherently funny, as opposed to benefiting from great writing and co-stars.
"Friends" Fallacy No. 6: Sitcoms can and should become huge hits right away.
From the beginning, "Friends" flew to the top of the ratings like it had been shot out of a cannon. That almost never happens. The last sitcom to become a monster immediately was "The Cosby Show" a decade earlier.
Before "Friends," patience was the order of the day for grooming comedy hits. "Cheers" was one of the lowest-rated shows on TV its first season, and it eventually rose to number one. "Seinfeld" was such a loser at first that its initial three seasons had one, four and 12 episodes, respectively, and we all know how it turned out.
But the fluke instant success of "Friends" convinced TV executives that all of their shows should hit right away, or they were worthless. With rare exceptions like "Raymond," which took four years to reach the top, post-"Friends" sitcoms have a much shorter leash than they used to, and promising shows that might have been able to grow into hits over time were no longer given that chance in a penny-wise, pound-foolish new programming world.
Again, I blame "Friends" itself for none of this. It would be like making God the fall guy for the Crusades. The "Friends" writers, directors and stars were just trying to make a cute and funny show, and they succeeded more often than not. But the aftermath of their innocent work has been bloody, horrifying to watch, and so damaging that it could take years to recover.
Alan Sepinwall can be reached at asepinwall@starledger.com, or by writing him at 1 Star-Ledger Plaza, Newark, N.J. 07102-1200.