Just in time for Black History Month, I've found myself sort of unintentionally reconnecting with my honky heritage. Not so much in an "eat more Velveeta" way, but along the lines of something far more sinister:
I love to laugh, and I like TV. What I hate (and normally avoid) is taking part in the sort of TV show crazes that normally affect my honky brethren. As such, I've never really seen an episode of The Office, and I only really know Friends, Seinfeld, and American Idol from the occasional rerun, or the constant morning recaps that happen in the cubicles adjacent to mine in the office.
Generally, my TV tastes run somewhere farther south -- consisting mainly of cartoons, monster movies, and reality shows featuring Flava Flav. But during the week preceding the Superbowl my television was literally assaulted by ads for a new show called The Rules of Engagementthat featured David Spade, Patrick Warburton, and some other schmoe in the latest spin on the "dating and marriage are thankless suck-fests that drain the soul out of normal guys while empowering their domineering yet waaay to hot to be with them anyways girlfriend/wife who is always right regardless of what the argument about (featuring an assortment of funny neighbors and at least one nagging relative)" brand of sitcom humor.
The problem was, even though I knew deep in my heart that this show would have nothing really new to offer I was still curious about it. Maybe it was the fact that I'm a big fan of Patrick Warburton's work (he was The Tick, for Chrissakes), and even when he's not trying to -- David Spade makes me laugh. They've worked together on a lot of things, but (and this probably makes me sound really lame) when my son was really young one of his absolute favorite movies was The Emperor’s New Groove (featuring both Spade and Warburton), which may be one of the funniest Disney animations I've ever seen.
Plus, just in case I wasn't sure where the jokes were -- they had a laugh track or some studio audience letting me know when laughter was the appropriate response. I wanted to follow it all the way through, but they never got away from "the formula" and eventually I just gave up on it.
The worst part about it though was the fact that halfway through I stopped seeing it as a bad television show and began to sorta analyze it as a failed writing experience. I began sort of turning the script over in my head, thinking about how I could have changed it around to make the story seem more interesting.
Or at least that was the though process running through my head when I was standing at Blockbuster the other night trying to decide what to spend my free movie coupon on. I browsed through all the movies and couldn't find anything that really caught my eye until I came to the TV on DVD section and saw the box for season 1 disc 1 of a show called How I Met Your Mother.
Despite the fact that on first glance it comes off looking like a Friends rip-off, I had to admit being kinda curious about it. Add the fact that Whatigotsofar is always talking it up and that I wasn't going to be paying a dime for the rental, it seemed like a decent choice.
Here’s the thing: It’s funny in places. Formulaic and schmaltzy at times, but quirky enough to where there were a few actual surprises. Neil Patrick Harris’ character is a scream, but what I realized watching the last few episodes was that it wouldn’t really matter what lines he was reading – the difference with this show was that you could tell the actors were actually having fun doing it.
And that’s when it hit me. Rules of Engagement didn’t die on the vine because it wasn’t funny – it stunk because you couldn’t help but be aware that the people in the story were actors pretending to be real people. It’s like they going through the motions, reading the lines because that’s what they get paid to do.
Not that How I Met Your Mother doesn’t have it’s flaws (like the whole concept of the married man talking to his kids 30 years in the future about every experience, including the meaningless sex and failed relationships he endured while slogging through the New York dating scene– which any kid will tell you are the stories you always want to hear from your dad), or that it didn’t fall into predictable patterns now and then – because it did, but that there was something appealing about the chemistry between the cast and the extras. It looks like a fun show to be on. But more than that, the New York that acts as the shows backdrop looks like a fun New York to live in (regardless of the fact that the real New York probably isn't anything like that at all).
Still, it was really hard not to notice just how lily-white the whole thing was. It’s weird, because there are plenty of ethnic characters on the show (not in the main cast, mind you – but all around them) but that the settings feel undeniably preppy – which might be the theme the show’s creator’s are going for, but always leads to trouble later in the series when the writers start to get conscious about it. You can almost sense the plot line coming where the lonely-guy lead character is like "I’m dating a black girl -- what do I do?" or "I’m meeting her Asian parents, and I don’t know when to bow!"
I want people to tell my stories to. I want people to make inside jokes with. I want people who will laugh when I’m stupid, or to tell me that it’s gonna be ok when things turn to crap.The problem is that I need them more than just 30 minutes a night, once a week after a new episode of The Class.
Prime-time Network SitcomsIt's embarrassing to admit it, but every now and then I find myself drawn to formulaic comedy shows that other people watch and talk about. It's like some natural urge that shows up like once or twice a year where I find myself looking for something to watch and get like fifteen minutes into the story before I realize in horror that I'm actually watching M*A*S*H.
I love to laugh, and I like TV. What I hate (and normally avoid) is taking part in the sort of TV show crazes that normally affect my honky brethren. As such, I've never really seen an episode of The Office, and I only really know Friends, Seinfeld, and American Idol from the occasional rerun, or the constant morning recaps that happen in the cubicles adjacent to mine in the office.
Generally, my TV tastes run somewhere farther south -- consisting mainly of cartoons, monster movies, and reality shows featuring Flava Flav. But during the week preceding the Superbowl my television was literally assaulted by ads for a new show called The Rules of Engagementthat featured David Spade, Patrick Warburton, and some other schmoe in the latest spin on the "dating and marriage are thankless suck-fests that drain the soul out of normal guys while empowering their domineering yet waaay to hot to be with them anyways girlfriend/wife who is always right regardless of what the argument about (featuring an assortment of funny neighbors and at least one nagging relative)" brand of sitcom humor.The problem was, even though I knew deep in my heart that this show would have nothing really new to offer I was still curious about it. Maybe it was the fact that I'm a big fan of Patrick Warburton's work (he was The Tick, for Chrissakes), and even when he's not trying to -- David Spade makes me laugh. They've worked together on a lot of things, but (and this probably makes me sound really lame) when my son was really young one of his absolute favorite movies was The Emperor’s New Groove (featuring both Spade and Warburton), which may be one of the funniest Disney animations I've ever seen.
Or maybe it was simply the fact that they played the ad for it eleventy billion times during the Superbowl and it seemed funnier than the way Rex Grossman was playing at the time.Whatever the case, Monday night rolled around, I Love New York wasn't on -- and I figured what the hell, lets see what it's like.
..It sucked.I suppose there's potential for something there, but all too often it was the same thing over and over -- Husbands are prisoners, Engaged guys are doomed, and single people are actually tragic heroes who go to great lengths hide their inner pain while secretly wishing they too had someone special just like the friends they hang out with on the show. There were far too many moments where the writers wanted me to guess the punch lines to the jokes followed inevitably by the moment where I could be proud of myself when I found out that I was right (yay, he baked the cake!)
Plus, just in case I wasn't sure where the jokes were -- they had a laugh track or some studio audience letting me know when laughter was the appropriate response. I wanted to follow it all the way through, but they never got away from "the formula" and eventually I just gave up on it.
The worst part about it though was the fact that halfway through I stopped seeing it as a bad television show and began to sorta analyze it as a failed writing experience. I began sort of turning the script over in my head, thinking about how I could have changed it around to make the story seem more interesting.
Normally I would chalk something like this up to "taking a chance on something and having it fall short" -- but for whatever reason this time I found myself sorta wishing for closure. Like I needed too see a funny show to act as some sort of palette cleanser for this unbelievably crappy one.Armchair Scriptwriting
Or at least that was the though process running through my head when I was standing at Blockbuster the other night trying to decide what to spend my free movie coupon on. I browsed through all the movies and couldn't find anything that really caught my eye until I came to the TV on DVD section and saw the box for season 1 disc 1 of a show called How I Met Your Mother.
Despite the fact that on first glance it comes off looking like a Friends rip-off, I had to admit being kinda curious about it. Add the fact that Whatigotsofar is always talking it up and that I wasn't going to be paying a dime for the rental, it seemed like a decent choice.
Here’s the thing: It’s funny in places. Formulaic and schmaltzy at times, but quirky enough to where there were a few actual surprises. Neil Patrick Harris’ character is a scream, but what I realized watching the last few episodes was that it wouldn’t really matter what lines he was reading – the difference with this show was that you could tell the actors were actually having fun doing it.
And that’s when it hit me. Rules of Engagement didn’t die on the vine because it wasn’t funny – it stunk because you couldn’t help but be aware that the people in the story were actors pretending to be real people. It’s like they going through the motions, reading the lines because that’s what they get paid to do.
Not that How I Met Your Mother doesn’t have it’s flaws (like the whole concept of the married man talking to his kids 30 years in the future about every experience, including the meaningless sex and failed relationships he endured while slogging through the New York dating scene– which any kid will tell you are the stories you always want to hear from your dad), or that it didn’t fall into predictable patterns now and then – because it did, but that there was something appealing about the chemistry between the cast and the extras. It looks like a fun show to be on. But more than that, the New York that acts as the shows backdrop looks like a fun New York to live in (regardless of the fact that the real New York probably isn't anything like that at all).Still, it was really hard not to notice just how lily-white the whole thing was. It’s weird, because there are plenty of ethnic characters on the show (not in the main cast, mind you – but all around them) but that the settings feel undeniably preppy – which might be the theme the show’s creator’s are going for, but always leads to trouble later in the series when the writers start to get conscious about it. You can almost sense the plot line coming where the lonely-guy lead character is like "I’m dating a black girl -- what do I do?" or "I’m meeting her Asian parents, and I don’t know when to bow!"
Hopefully they won’t stoop to that level,In the end, though – what I think really struck me about the show was the way it echoed the thoughts that have been swirling around my head lately about needing more friends/running buddies/things to do that don’t involve staying home alone and wishing I had something do to. Even if it was a TV version of things, the characters on the show were undeniably connected in a way that I would like to emulate to some extent in my life.
but somehow you know they’re just gonna..
I want people to tell my stories to. I want people to make inside jokes with. I want people who will laugh when I’m stupid, or to tell me that it’s gonna be ok when things turn to crap.The problem is that I need them more than just 30 minutes a night, once a week after a new episode of The Class.
And I need them to be here.
[Listening to: Whole Wheat Bread, "206"]
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