On the Telly: “The Office”

It hurt me today to find out that my beloved The Office has received a record lowrating. This was the lowest for the American version of the series since its premiere in the spring of 2005.

The history of NBC’s The Office was not a smooth one in its inception. Initial critical reception was generally favourable, but also cool, with many noting its inferiority to the original British series starring Ricky Gervais (admittedly I was not a stark raving fan of it but that’s another blog post). The ratings were generally low-rated, but enough for NBC to continue with the series. Clearly they saw more potential in it than in the wildly misbegotten 2003 version of Coupling, which lasted exactly two terrible episodes. The cast developed and grew into an ensemble, headed by the brilliant Steve Carrell as Michael Scott. The lynchpin of the series was his continually embarrassing efforts to befriend the staff by trying too hard. In other words, perpetual social experimentation and wild failure was the engine of what drove the show, and how the staffers reacted to it. By the time Carrell left for his successful movie career in 2011, having led the cast for seven years and earning numerous honours including a Golden Globe and SAG Award, and half a dozen Emmy nominations, the show had become a respectable long-running hit. The question was: would the series survive, let alone thrive, without him?

New boss: Catherine Tate

The answer appears to be a hesitant “no”, at least for the moment. There has been a tortured attempt in the show’s narrative to fill the gap left by Carrell. He may have been incurably dorky, but he also drew the entire staff together and they came to care for him in the end. The humanity was what was missing from the original Gervais version of The Office in Britain. For Dunder-Mifflin’s Scranton branch, the quest to fill the void Michael left behind mirrored his actor’s departure. Michael was Carrell’s signature role, and the problem was like any good pen, he left an indelible mark that could not be erased and would always be woven into the show.

Let’s liken it to what happened with Diana Ross when she left the Supremes. Without their biggest star, the one who defined the group, the effect was that the air was let out of the room. The Supremes carried on and did respectably, but they were never quite the same no matter how talented the members were who remained. Carrell’s from The Office departure echoes similarly, even a year later. The cast still has moments of brilliance and the ensemble plays well with one another, but the dynamic has changed radically. Sure, there’s great promise in British transplant Nellie as the by turns vicious and loopy new manager, played brilliantly by Catherine Tate in a turn balancing deft comic timing with a hint of dark turmoil, but she will need another year to make the show her own and to erase Carrell’s influence.

Kelly Kapoor (Mindy Kaling)

It’s a bit disheartening that the show seems to be on its last legs. Longtime showrunner Paul Liberstein, who plays the harangued human resources manager Toby, has stepped down and NBC is advertising for a new showrunner. Mindy Kaling, fresh off the success of her terrific comic memoir Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?, is filming a pilot that hopefully gives us more of an opportunity to see this refreshingly bubbly actress on a regular basis. And Rainn Wilson has been offered a spin-off with his one-of-a-kind character Dwight Schrute, in a backdoors pilot that will be aired sometime within the next year. (I am looking very much forward to this project.)

Like every office after a major shift in management, The Office is still in a transition stage. What we need to determine is whether or not the company will survive the change and grow into a stronger whole, or be finished off for good. Stay tuned.

Guilty Pleasure: “Zuiikin English”

I don’t know who exercises to those morning TV shows anymore. In the 80s they had those Jane Fonda videos. Local stations still put on those programs where you do simple things like do 45-minute runs to warm up, then a bunch of exercises. Fair enough. But who would have had the gumption to combine exercise with other forms of daily exercises, as in language exercises? The good folks at Fuji Television in Japan, that’s who.

But let us heed the words of Tina Fey, who gave us this bit of wisdom on the dangers of combining two good things at once. In her phenomenal autobiography Bossypants, she said:

“It’s the same reason I don’t get Hooters. Why do we need to enjoy chicken wings and boobies at the same time? Yes, they are a natural and beautiful part of the human experience. And so are boobies. But why at the same time?”

Created twenty years ago in 1992, Zuiikin English debuted to absolutely no fanfare on early morning TV. The purpose of the show was simple and twofold: get your morning exercise in, and learn English at the same time. The program consisted of three women in skimpy exercise wear performing stretching activities while reciting English sentences that have nothing to do with the activity in progress. In an effort to combine two activities, the purpose of both seems to have been defeated because the phrases are not often used in daily conversation, and no one explains how to perform the exercises. This is the danger of multi-tasking in TV: you can’t go about it half-assed, because you won’t succeed at it.

To give you an idea of the rather useless sentences that the women leading the exercises chant in a happy monotone (if such a thing exists), here are a few choice clips:

“I have a bad case of diarrhea.”

“How dare you say such a thing to me!”/ “I can’t stand the sight of you!”

“Take anything you want!” / “Spare me my life!”

“Lovely golf weather today!”

More clips after the jump.

Book of the Year: “Bossypants” by Tina Fey

I have officially given up writing my memoirs. I have thrown out all electronic drafts, random pieces of paper with quotes, notebooks half-filled with remembrances and deleted the backups. I have done this because no matter how much I try to conjure a hilarious, wise but pointed and still very true memoir, I just know that mine will nowhere nearly match the wit, humanity and genius of Tina Fey’s Bossypants, my favourite book of 2011.

Fey charts the course of her life from her humble beginnings in the suburbs of Philadelphia. Since her mother had her at 40, when it was a rare occurrence in 1970, she was referred to as “Mrs. Fey and her change-of-life-baby!” We follow her in high school summer theatre camps, which she said was not intended to be a training ground for future gay theatre nerds, but of which she says “you know how sometimes squirrels eat out of a bird feeder?” There are hilarious memories of her first period (“Modess! It’s coming for you!, it hissed at me!”); her first out-of-college job at the Boystown YMCA in Chicago (“the centre of all human grimness”); her days traveling throughout the country performing Improv for $75 a show; her arrival at Saturday Night Live and her first meeting with Lorne Michael (a friendship which evolved anywhere from Annie / Daddy Warbucks to Mr. and Mrs. Michael Jackson and back again); the creation of 30 Rock (“an experiment to confuse your grandparents”); the 2008 presidential election and Sarah Palin impression, motherhood and her hopes and dreams for her daughter. You are probably already well-aware with the gloriously brief chapter “A Mother’s Prayer for Its Daughter”, which is likely posted on your fridge or on at least one co-worker’s cubicle at your office. And you’ll love her description of what it’s like to be on a magazine cover photo shoot (“With the wind blowing in your long extensions you feel like Beyoncé. The moment the wind machine stops you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and wonder, ‘Why is the mother from Coal Miner’s Daughter here?’”).

I told my friend Mark Ainley at The Piano Files recently that Bossypants is my choice of book of the year and that I intended to blog about it. I read aloud from the section where Fey thanked Joyce DeWitt for “not looking like everyone else” (and not just like “a Liza Minnelli doll damaged in a fire”) in the 1970s, when the era of Suzanne Somers and Farrah Fawcett set the beauty standard for everyone else (“Do you remember a time when pop culture was so white that Jaclyn Smith was the chocolate?!”). Mark put it simply to me: “the funniest people see the most clearly”. And it’s true. Everything Fey puts in her hilarious memoir is not the recycled product of numerous remembrances from instantly-made celebrities on reality TV series. What she brings to the page are her insights from years of struggle and hard work, shaped into perfect sense by perspective. No one will come away from Bossypants with easy catchphrases or delusions of going on spiritual quests (remember that Eat Pray Love was as much a marketing concept as it was a spiritual awakening for its author). Fey didn’t grow up thinking she was “special” or felt entitled to anything. She is not a self-proclaimed “artist” who excuses bad behaviour or poor judgment with that easy label. Fey is just a really funny person who liked to write, perform and share that love with everyone. She didn’t get famous for being on a reality show. Tina Fey got to where she is now through sheer hard work behind the scenes. This includes but is not limited to years of working in summer theatre, university acting seminars, night classes, writing on SNL and putting in 16-hour days on set before she traded that in for another 14-hour-a-day-gig running 30 Rock.

And she’s not even done yet. What keeps Fey going on 30 Rock is not just her love for her work, but also all of its attendant and necessary responsibilities. She realized that if she were to have quit the show a year or two into it that she would have royally corn-holed her entire staff. She admits that not everyone working on the show is at their dream job, and they had mortgages to pay, just like she does. This perspective keeps Fey from pulling any diva-like antics and sticking to the work at hand. She did, however, hint that the show might end before too long, as she indicated that “it was time to start looking for parachutes again” after the show’s low-rated yet long, critically acclaimed and culturally relevant run, but you don’t get the sense that she would end the show on a whim. She’s above that.

Sweetie, Darling! The Return of “Absolutely Fabulous”

Christmas has come early to a lot of us who love Jennifer Saunders’s thoroughly subversive celebrity industry comedy Absolutely Fabulous. Originally premiering in the spring of 1992, the British series focused on trend-obsessed PR firm owner Edina “Eddy” Monsoon (Saunders) and her need to continually stay current on fashion trends and celebrity. This involves copious amounts of embarrassment to her straight-laced daughter Saffron (Julia Sawalha), who instead aspired to be a civil servant or work in the public sector, much to Eddy’s chagrin. Eddy’s best friend, magazine editor (now “lifestyle coordinator”) Patsy Stone (Joanna Lumley) is continuously drugged up, drunk or at odds with Saffron while egging Eddy to take the worst possible course of action if it meant that they could skip out of work and have lunch at Harvey Nichols. Also hanging around are Eddy’s bizarre assistant Bubble (Jane Horrocks), ex-husbands (one gay, one straight), Saffron’s babydaddy and Eddy’s senile but lovingly deadpan mother (June Whitfield).

Over the years, Eddy’s home has been continually upgraded, especially the kitchen in which the action occurs. Despite the current vogue for shooting comedy series as single-camera productions on film, AbFab (as it is affectionately known to diehard fans like me) is still shot multi-camera, in front of a studio audience. And yet it doesn’t remain antiquated or like a product of its times. It’s probably because the bad behaviour, in a reversal of the conventional parent-child relationship, remains one of the most hideously funny dynamics in comedy history.

AbFab returns for only its seventh proper series, not counting the odd Christmas special, this year on Christmas Day. Perhaps this is the key to AbFab’s success, and why they show it at Christmastime every year in the UK: because it’s like the worst family reunion, happening all the time, and it’s pushed beyond the boundaries of proper decorum and sometimes borders on what constitutes human decency, yet it’s strangely accurate in its understanding of dynamics. And at its heart, despite the sick twisted emotional f***withal / buggery (not the literal sense) going on, there’s real love amongst family and friends. Plus, who wouldn’t want to see a middle-aged woman try to desperately appear young, current and hip if she just surrounds herself with the latest trends, music, fashion, etc.? (It’s no coincidence that Eddy worships Madonna, who may not be getting any younger but can stay current better than Eddy possibly can.) The show has a rabid following in the UK and also has an ardent gay following, given that is bitchery remains unmatched on contemporary television.

The brand-new AbFab series promises more pointed British comedy from its creator. Consider that since the series started, the world begat Facebook, Twitter and iPhones. There is a plethora of new material to mine, to confuse and befuddle the entire cast and showcase the insane manners in which Eddy and her PR firm try to keep up. The creators remain tight-lipped on what happens but we can look forward to Eddy and Patsy waking up on a sheik’s yacht, worshipping Madonna, Twittering and – because they haven’t stopped following royalty since Princess Di – some attempt to cash in on Kate Middleton and Wills. I can’t wait.

AbFab’s new series premieres on BBC One on Christmas Day at 22:00 GMT, and on BBC America in January 2012. In the meantime, please enjoy previews of the new series and some classic clips after the jump.

Classic TV: Why I Miss “30 Rock”

I couldn’t put my finger on what was missing from this year’s fall TV series lineup. The failure of The Playboy Club, the disappointment that is Pan Am (which nevertheless illicit great analysis on the brilliant fashion-related TV blog to which I occasionally contribute, You Know You Love Fashion), and the sorely wrenching one-two punch of New Girl and Whitney were prone to induce depression and a longing for true quality television. There are terrific new series such as Once Upon a Time and the on-life-support (“hiatus” is a euphemism, I just know it) Prime Suspect, but what’s really missing is my beloved 30 Rock.

30 Rock grew out of a development deal Tina Fey received in 2005 following nearly a decade of greatness at Saturday Night Live. The antics of an SNL-style sketch comedy centering on the neurotic head writer, the Republican blowhard / mentor figure who protects the show from corporate heads threatening to cancel it, the incredibly bizarre comedian who fronts the show, the starlet hanging onto her youth, and the ragtag team of writers is easily the best show on television, for me (Modern Family is a very close second). As Fey went on maternity leave this spring and gave birth in the early fall, the show will return to the air on January 12, 2012, giving the five and a half million fans of TV’s 106^th-highest-rated show something to cheer about and look forward to in the New Year.

Here are five reasons why I miss 30 Rock:

1. It is today’s equivalent of the ultimate workplace comedy (no disrespect to The Office, which I also love)

Every decade brings at least one excellent comedy on the workplace. In the 70s, the beloved Mary Tyler Moore Show showed us the humanity and dignity of work, without ennobling it or making martyrdom or sacrifice of a work-life balance something to shout about. In the 80s and early 90s, Cheers demonstrated that work can be lively and, given the right balance of personalities, remind us that work is, to many people, like a second home, provided that you happen to like most of the people who work there. With the economy in danger and the more those with jobs are pulling bigger, heavier loads due to fewer people at the office, work becomes a bit more unbearable and there are plenty who are hanging onto their jobs and doing them just to stay out of the unemployment line and welfare office.

The rather preposterous situations in this comedy are not the usual run-of-the-mill variety, as they go over the edge and verge on the surreal. And isn’t your work a bit like that, sometimes? The series’ fast-paced dialogue is never dumbed-down for anyone, since those who criticize the series for being “too smart” and “too snarky” for its own good are not worthy to watch this ingenious show on a regular basis. Despite the discouragingly low ratings, 30 Rock remains alive due to the high quality of its writing, directing and acting (and not just for the also-high production values) and, quite frankly, there’s always been at least one really smart little comedy show kicking around on the air that doesn’t stick around long enough to be truly appreciated because most folks “just don’t get it” (RIP Arrested Development, The Critic, Sports Night and Pushing Daisies, among others).

2. Jack Donaghy is one of my personal heroes

I am not saying this because I am a Republican (since I am Canadian, I cannot be, and by virtue of being Canadian I will always be a little left of centre regardless). I am saying this because for a lot of us, who wouldn’t want to be successful, put-together, with impeccable credentials and a glamourous corporate office in the sky? What sets Donaghy apart from so many other suits on TV is that he’s unapologetically successful, without being smug about it (but he doesn’t have false modesty about it, either).

When I used to watch successful corporate types on TV growing up, I never thought that J.R. Ewing was the be-all-end-all of that corporate type. I enjoyed Donald Trump on The Apprentice until one day I realized his business-minded daughter Ivanka was way cooler. I had initially thought such a boss should be feared but approachable, and not be a blowhard who yells at people all the time just to exert control. It must have been serendipitous (the second time I’ve used that word in a blog post this weekend) that Meryl Streep’s scary Miranda Priestley on The Devil Wear Prada showed up in theatres just months before Alec Baldwin and the premiere of 30 Rock, because her performance was a primer for Jack Donaghy, the kind of executive I’ve always wanted to be. (They also both whisper, which is a lot more frightening than a scream.) That, and for some reason, I’ve thought that Baldwin would make a really kick-ass executive type. That Baldwin infuses him with humanity and yet keep his wits and witticism about him is a testament to the ingenuity of the writing staff.

Ideal Dinner Party Guest: Mindy Kaling

One of my absolute favourite people on one of my absolute favourite TV series in life, The Office, is comedy writer Mindy Kaling, who plays the self-centered, gossip-obsessed customer service manager Kelly Kapoor. 
 

Although Kelly is vain and morally suspect, that doesn’t mean that she’s not a comic gem. She’s the awful high school drama queen I always thought was entertaining to observe as a budding sociopath, but was always careful never to anger. When a character returns from sabbatical and asks her what’s been going on in her life, Kelly regurgitates various tabloid headlines. When asked again about what was going on in her life, she retorts, “I just told you!” Never one to miss an opportunity to get what she wants no matter the repercussions, she fakes a pregnancy to the co-worker she’s dating and when confronted on the false pregnancy, is aghast as to why he would be upset. While this behaviour is appalling on a superficial read, it’s made hilariously compelling by Kaling’s impeccable delivery. It’s no wonder that she’s a co-executive producer and writer on The Office.

Kaling comes off as opinionated and charming in interviews, and her quick wit and sharp mind are worlds away from the character she plays. Kaling’s musings marry Jerry Seinfeld’s observational humour with Tina Fey’s wry wisdom, and they are captured in her upcoming collection of biographical essays entitled Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (and Other Concerns). Her inspired take on life doesn’t follow the conventional biographical route charting birth to life at the publication stage. Rather, Kaling reveals humble truths about herself, but does so in an irreverent and caustic manner. For instance, having pancakes for breakfast destroys all her productivity for the remainder of the day. This should be made a matter of public record and there should really be infomercials about such dangers.

Dream Mash-up: Glee and Björk

Dear producers of Glee:

You have so far given us the Madonna special, built an episode of self-empowerment around Lady Gaga, and gave us a quietly powerful interpretation of Fleetwood Mac’s seminal Rumors album. You are clearly into doing themed episodes and next season you may be looking to do more. I know you’re on summer hiatus, which is precisely why this is the perfect time for me to write this to you, so that you can have time to create the plotline and clear the rights.

My humble suggestion to you is to structure your next themed episode entirely around the music of … BJÖRK.

Yes, Björk.

Think about it. Her music, being so over-the-top and unusual, requiring such complex and unorthodox instrumentation as vocal beat-boxing, Inuit throat-singing, drum machines, triangles and full-scale orchestras, are ripe for choral treatment. It would be the ultimate challenge for your show!

Yes, I know you and she tried negotiating rights for a song of hers to be used in the past but it didn’t work. But still, why not entice the pop iconoclast with an entire episode around her music??? And I LOVE that you tried.

The visceral, violent imagery in Björk’s music is perfectly suited to the uncontrollable emotional diarrhea of the characters. The music is so far removed from conventional musical arrangement and experimental that it would certainly make for some of the most innovative music you’ll have ever produced thus far. Plus, think of just how confused Middle America would be by having you dedicate an entire episode around such an unusual concept, but it would also help them expand their musical repertoire.

Just think of it as Tina and Mike having a weird dream about her when they went out for dim sum and ate too much chicken feet, watched a marathon of Ms. Swan clips from Mad TV, and fell asleep. They wake up, tell everyone about their “weird dreams”, and voila! Mr. Schue gives them all copies of her collected works that he had in high school (which his shrewish ex-wife won’t let him play or listen to, natch) and chooses them all to pick one. Or it’ll just be a bizarro episode like that one black-and-white Felicity episode from 1999.

Here are some brilliant suggestions for each character to sing, and the signature line from each song that would be truest to each character’s essence.

Classic TV: United States of Tara

The Blogger grew up in a house with several women. As is common with ethnic families, several generations of the same family lived in the same home. No one thought to move out except to get married. Consequently, the Blogger counts amongst the people who were around during his childhood two parents, two siblings, two grandparents, three aunts, the housekeeper and an assistant. Even after moving across an ocean, the Blogger still had numerous relatives come to visit for several weeks at a time, and some lived with us for several months. Space has always been at a premium. This experience is uncommon to the West and particularly absent from television. 

Showtime’s poison-tipped but strangely loving comedy United States of Tara manages to accomplish the astonishing feat of having several women live in the same home while not adding any additional bodies. Created by Oscar-winning screenwriter Diablo Cody (Juno), the series focuses on a perfect nuclear family consisting of one man, one woman, one daughter and one son.

As is evident, this is no average nuclear family. Tara (Toni Collette) has been happily married for many years but also has at least three multiple personalities that arrive unannounced at triggering events. “T” is a typical teenage girl with battitude to spare and urges her ever-patient husband Max (John Corbett, perennially playing the nice guy to colourful women) to sleep with her because “it’s still your wife’s body, she won’t mind”. “Alice” is a stereotypical 1950s housewife, replete with conservative values but with a backbone and constitution that makes Sarah Palin look like a Planned Parenthood educator. “Buck” is a trucker and a stereotypically boorish redneck. At some point in the second season, Tara reads an influential psychiatry textbook and cultivates the personality of its author, “Shoshanna”, a Jewish New York shrink fresh out of the 1970s. Later on, she resuscitates her long-repressed childhood other, “Chicken”, who is five years old. 

Memo to File, re: Oprah

Note: this originally appeared on the Blogger’s previous blog a few years ago, and is re-published on the eve of Oprah’s farewell episode.

It was a conversation I’ve had with many lawyer friends of mine. They continue to be inundated with work, the partners they work with are sadist taskmasters, and their Machiavellian colleagues continually prey on their clients. People do not take vacations for fear that their files will have magically alighted onto the desks of the lawyer next door. My dear friends are ignoring their health and have begun to forgo family obligations, and return from work later at night. Despite our best efforts, it is becoming more difficult to “let go”.

There is, however, a simple solution that, while it may not make the nightmare files or the fear go away, can help alleviate just a little pressure. The solution is simple that no one has ever thought of it. Every day, for one hour a day, all business must shut down so that everyone in the office can … watch Oprah. Together. In the conference room.

Don’t look at me like that. I’m deadly serious.

Everyone who has stayed home from work can attest that Oprah has a hypnotic hold over her audience. On her show, you see ordinary people, sports figures, celebrities and politicians bare their souls. People discuss social issues, from racism and sexism to homophobia and ageism, to everyone’s great cathartic release. Recent topics include her revisit with Neo-Nazis who walked out on her in the late 80s during a taping, and Chaz Bono’s transition to a biological male. Oprah’s show is like a shining beacon, one to where celebrities tearfully go to address and atone for public embarrassment and sins, or just to promote their new line of handbags. The reason why Oprah is one of the most powerful cultural figures of our time is that she empathizes with everyone and welcomes them on her show, no matter how famous or ordinary they are. Although some (still) attribute the show’s lasting success female bonding at its most powerful, but the power of The Big O is not localized to women. When she speaks, people listen. Not just women: everyone. Oprah matters.

Mama Said

Albert Brooks’s 1996 film Mother is the underrated modern classic comedy (for those of us who saw it) that should have become required Mother’s Day viewing for the rest of recorded time.

The film is no fawning love letter or sentimental feel-good fraud that skirts real, substantive issues about human relations like conventional comedies.

The premise is simple yet restrained wackiness, if such a thing exists. Brooks plays a frustrated writer who has just finalized his second divorce. Sensing that his marital issues may have stemmed from a poor relationship with his retired mother (the unsinkable Debbie Reynolds), the son decides to stage an “experiment” by moving back in with her so that they could understand what makes him tick. He goes so far as to move back into his old bedroom in his childhood home and arrange it exactly the way he left it, complete with posters of Barbarella and 2001: A Space Odyssey. His mother is game, although somewhat befuddled by his rationale. 

Within moments of his arrival, mother and son are already at odds with something as basic as eating. Mother offers him various meat dishes for dinner, even though he is a strict vegetarian. When she offers him lamb and he declines, having already turned down beef stew and pastas in meat sauce, she replies, “I didn’t know if it was the animal you were siding with or the whole thing”. She also has a penchant for freezing all food items including salad, a slab of cheese the size of a hat box that expired three years ago, and sherbet. She insists that there is no way the food could have spoiled, and that the discolored sherbet is perfectly edible due to freezer burn that she mistakenly calls but sincerely believes to be a layer of “protective ice”. There’s also a parallel plot involving the writer’s younger brother, who despite being the more accomplished of the two sons, feigns incredulity at his brother’s experiment to disguise some thinly veiled jealousy (paging Dr. Freud).