TMC
07-23-2018, 08:20 PM
https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2018/07/trial-error-nbc-must-see-tv
NBC’s most successful comedies have married niches of the comedy scene with mainstream appeal, in a way that has come to define the modern American sitcom—Seinfeld, Friends, and The Office, to name the biggest hits. Throughout the 80s and 90s, NBC stacked these comedies on Thursdays at prime time, capped off the block with a soapy drama in the 10 P.M. hour, and branded the whole shebang with a slogan that became genre-defining: Must See TV. The massively successful strategy defined American programming for a generation. Its umbrella encompassed some of broadcast TV's biggest critical and commercial successes: Seinfeld, Friends, The Cosby Show, Cheers, Frasier, and more recently, a satire winkingly set at NBC—Tina Fey’s 30 Rock. The dramas were similarly beloved; the list includes programs like ER, Hill Street Blues, and L.A. Law.
But five years ago, in 2013, NBC comedy was in crisis. The network was struggling to come up with reasons to keep Parks and Rec and that other big cult hit Community on the air, despite vocal, heartfelt audience investment in both titles. The exact urbane appeal that helped those comedies find fans was what got them into trouble; those viewers were increasingly less likely to sit down and watch a prime-time broadcast with commercials. In 2006 NBC retired "Must See TV," and in 2013 they even gave up on the tepid, hedging moniker they'd developed to replace it: "Comedy Night Done RIght."
In its effort to retrench and reach a wider audience, NBC compromised on content. That same year, as chairman Bob Greenblatt has discussed publicly, the network passed on Brooklyn Nine-Nine, which went on to become a Golden Globe–winning Fox hit. The following year, NBC sold Tina Fey’s Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt to Netflix, which effectively gave away 18 buzzy Emmy nominations to the streaming giant. (During its run, 30 Rock presciently offered a real-time narrative of the absurd corporate gobbledygook happening inside the NBC headquarters; at one point, Alec Baldwin's Jack Donaghy, the very model of a soulless corporate suit, holds up a pie chart and explains that NBC's second biggest priority is to "make it 1997 again through science or magic." The number one priority? The Biggest Loser.)
With the exception of Superstore and the gone-too-soon The Carmichael Show, every other comedy NBC tried in the period between 2012 and 2016 fell flat. You’ve probably never heard of any of them: A to Z, About a Boy, Bad Judge, Crowded, Go On, Marry Me, Sean Saves the World, Welcome to Sweden. I watched them all. They were glossy and slick and trying so, so hard to be cool; they appealed more to one’s sense of pity than one’s funny bone. The anxiety and desperation of trying to make money in new world order of Peak TV and nearly infinite streaming options led NBC to gut its own stable of talented creators, people plugged into the comedy circuit.
Things have started to change. NBC, like many other networks, has embraced the value of a fervent niche audience. The success of 2016 debut The Good Place, from Parks and Rec’s Michael Schur, seems to have indicated to the powers that be that there’s payoff in investing in unique ideas—and in letting talented storytellers do their jobs with minimal interference. Meanwhile, it’s the network’s other fare that aims broad—too broad, arguably: the manipulative waterworks of This Is Us, crowned by this season’s post-Super Bowl Crock-Pot fire, continue to be an audience favorite, but critically the show has less and less to offer. The fact that the network can field an entire night of interconnected dramas about Chicago public servants says something rather depressing about unique ideas making it to the screen. And NBC’s two reality hits, The Voice and America’s Got Talent, are big, flashy moneymakers without much substance.
NBC’s most successful comedies have married niches of the comedy scene with mainstream appeal, in a way that has come to define the modern American sitcom—Seinfeld, Friends, and The Office, to name the biggest hits. Throughout the 80s and 90s, NBC stacked these comedies on Thursdays at prime time, capped off the block with a soapy drama in the 10 P.M. hour, and branded the whole shebang with a slogan that became genre-defining: Must See TV. The massively successful strategy defined American programming for a generation. Its umbrella encompassed some of broadcast TV's biggest critical and commercial successes: Seinfeld, Friends, The Cosby Show, Cheers, Frasier, and more recently, a satire winkingly set at NBC—Tina Fey’s 30 Rock. The dramas were similarly beloved; the list includes programs like ER, Hill Street Blues, and L.A. Law.
But five years ago, in 2013, NBC comedy was in crisis. The network was struggling to come up with reasons to keep Parks and Rec and that other big cult hit Community on the air, despite vocal, heartfelt audience investment in both titles. The exact urbane appeal that helped those comedies find fans was what got them into trouble; those viewers were increasingly less likely to sit down and watch a prime-time broadcast with commercials. In 2006 NBC retired "Must See TV," and in 2013 they even gave up on the tepid, hedging moniker they'd developed to replace it: "Comedy Night Done RIght."
In its effort to retrench and reach a wider audience, NBC compromised on content. That same year, as chairman Bob Greenblatt has discussed publicly, the network passed on Brooklyn Nine-Nine, which went on to become a Golden Globe–winning Fox hit. The following year, NBC sold Tina Fey’s Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt to Netflix, which effectively gave away 18 buzzy Emmy nominations to the streaming giant. (During its run, 30 Rock presciently offered a real-time narrative of the absurd corporate gobbledygook happening inside the NBC headquarters; at one point, Alec Baldwin's Jack Donaghy, the very model of a soulless corporate suit, holds up a pie chart and explains that NBC's second biggest priority is to "make it 1997 again through science or magic." The number one priority? The Biggest Loser.)
With the exception of Superstore and the gone-too-soon The Carmichael Show, every other comedy NBC tried in the period between 2012 and 2016 fell flat. You’ve probably never heard of any of them: A to Z, About a Boy, Bad Judge, Crowded, Go On, Marry Me, Sean Saves the World, Welcome to Sweden. I watched them all. They were glossy and slick and trying so, so hard to be cool; they appealed more to one’s sense of pity than one’s funny bone. The anxiety and desperation of trying to make money in new world order of Peak TV and nearly infinite streaming options led NBC to gut its own stable of talented creators, people plugged into the comedy circuit.
Things have started to change. NBC, like many other networks, has embraced the value of a fervent niche audience. The success of 2016 debut The Good Place, from Parks and Rec’s Michael Schur, seems to have indicated to the powers that be that there’s payoff in investing in unique ideas—and in letting talented storytellers do their jobs with minimal interference. Meanwhile, it’s the network’s other fare that aims broad—too broad, arguably: the manipulative waterworks of This Is Us, crowned by this season’s post-Super Bowl Crock-Pot fire, continue to be an audience favorite, but critically the show has less and less to offer. The fact that the network can field an entire night of interconnected dramas about Chicago public servants says something rather depressing about unique ideas making it to the screen. And NBC’s two reality hits, The Voice and America’s Got Talent, are big, flashy moneymakers without much substance.