Trying to understand the 30 Rock backlash

Jesse David Fox over at Splitsider has perfectly explained my disagreement with the critical backlash directed against 30 Rock's sixth season, citing the show's newfound sentimentality and character development:

When you ask the viewer to invest more in the characters, there is a greater possibility of them not liking whom they see. Early this month NPR posted a decidedly myopic argument about how Liz Lemon has become a needy toddler. They wrote, at 30 Rock’s “core, initially, was a likable, smart, profoundly flawed woman trying her hardest to navigate all manner of show-business nuttiness that surrounded her. Now, she just seems flattened and robbed of everything that made her relatable.” If anything, Liz, by becoming less flattened and more specific, has become harder to project oneself upon, which NPR seemingly confused with regression. Liz is not devolving, if anything this season is about her growing more comfortable with her absurd surroundings. She is further freed up by her relationship with Criss. Of all Liz’s boyfriends, he has been the most accepting of all her quirks, saying in the Valentine’s Day episode, “You can get mad at dumb stuff, that’s your thing. I’ll get over it, that’s my thing.” With a supportive environment like this, Liz has never been more able to let her freak flag fly, which for her means dressing like The Joker if he was an crazy old lady.

I pointed to 30 Rock's newfound heart in my review of the season's first episode, and my fondness for the new tone has only increased. Fox mentions one of my absolute favorite moments from the show's hourlong Valentine's Day episode: the way Criss easily moves past the fight he and Liz had by not only acknowledging her crazy, but accepting it and loving her for it.

The reason that I loved this moment, just as I loved Criss' earlier refusal to get drawn into Jack's attempt to control Liz's love life, was the maturity it signaled for their relationship. Real, adult relationships don't happen if one party is completely changing themselves for the other person. They happen because two people accept each other's flaws and accomodate them*. Criss loves Liz enough that he doesn't care if she gets mad at dumb stuff, and he's able to handle her crazy because of that love. Criss might be an unemployed guy whose goal in life is to run an organic hot-dog stand, but that scene showed his maturity. Like I said of the season premiere, I really want to see Liz Lemon ride off into the sunset at the end of series, and her relationship with Criss seems to be inching the character closer to that goal.

Liz isn't the only character undergoing some changes; Jack, in last week's fantastically weird Dark Knight parody, allows his uncertainty over his job, the loss of Avery, his daughter and his city to paralyze him, while Jenna and Paul's relationship, despite it's absolute insanity, grows more grounded every week. Really, though, my first love on 30 Rock is always Liz Lemon. If she's happy, I'm happy, and so I'm loving every minute of this season.

*I'll admit that one reason I love this moment so much is because it strongly resembles my own relationship, where I'm the crazy Liz and my fiance is the calm Criss, so I might a little biased.

Game Change trailer: Julianne Moore takes on Sarah Palin (and Tina Fey)

The full-length trailer for the HBO movie Game Change, which follows the quixotic McCain/Palin campaign over the course of the 2008 presidential race, is here. The film, directed by Jay Roach, features Ed Harris as McCain, Woody Harrelson as campaign manager Steve Schmidt and, of course, Julianne Moore as Palin.

The first thing I noticed about the trailer is the fact that Moore appears to be playing Palin less as a Tina Fey-type caricature and more as an actual human being. That wouldn't come as so much of a surprise - after all, this is HBO, a network with a reputation for artistry to uphold - were it not for the fact that, outside of Moore's performance, the trailer doesn't do much in the way of going beyond the same tropes. We see Palin's triumphant "hockey mom" speech at the Republican National Convention; her much publicized shopping spree; the disastrous Katie Couric interview. We even see the quote about the proximity of Russia and Alaska that, as a result of Fey's impression, became the widely parodied "I can see Russia from my house" meme.

There are intriguing glimpses here; a shot of Palin, exhausted and broken, curled up in a robe after lamenting that she misses her baby, holds promise, as does the steely resolve Moore's Palin displays in the final shot, when she hisses "I so don't want to go back to Alaska." That moment, when her naked ambition comes to the fore, is a refreshing change of pace from the conventional narrative of an air-headed, unprepared woman who was thrust into the spotlight as a bid for buzz and subsequently sunk McCain's presidential hopes. Moore's apparent respect for the character is also promising, because an actor's disdain for a character tends to come through in bad ways in a performance (just ask the cast of W.). And maybe it's just the memory of Moore's bahston accent on 30 Rock, but I appreciate the lighter touch she takes with Palin's folksy dialect.

Overall, though, this trailer doesn't hold the promise of adding much new to the Palin narrative. Let's hope that the film spends more time looking at Palin's ruthless side - the side that has come out more in the wake of the failed McCain/Palin candidacy - and less time mocking her ignorance and vapidity. We already have Tina Fey to do that.

Liz Lemon is back, and she's... changing?

The TGS writers watch the sun rise in the sixth-season premiere of 30 Rock.

I don't watch 30 Rock for the same reasons that I watch a show like Community. I watch that particular NBC sitcom for the sheer audacity of the storytelling, the brilliance with which Dan Harmon and the writers appropriate and subvert cliches while simultaneously revering the shows that have come before. From Community I get shock, delight, and pathos.

30 Rock, however, is a show that I watch to hang out with the characters, which is one reason I missed it so much in the fall. This isn't to say that Community doesn't have great characters, because it absolutely does, but watching that series is all about seeing how the characters' relationships with each other will change. 30 Rock, however, remains in a state of stasis. Stasis isn't a bad thing; it's just a way of saying that I tune in to see what Liz, Jack, Tracy and Jenna will be up to this week. The core characters of 30 Rock do things and have adventures, but they remain fundamentally the same in their relationships with each other, and that's the way I like it.

That expectation is why I was so surprised by last night's premiere, "Dance Like Nobody's Watching." Specifically, I was surprised by my own reaction to it. I found myself getting emotionally invested in the stories - in particular, in Liz Lemon's tale of newfound love and happiness, and in Kenneth's awe at seeing the sun rise over the ocean for the first time. I was even moved by these moments despite the fact that they were accompanied by an overwrought reality-show version of "Camptown Races" (which was itself the result of a hilarious parody moment). I realized that, like Jack, I want to see Liz Lemon in a happy relationship, and that, like Pete, I want Kenneth to actually experience life. The show might not be around much longer, and dammit, I want everyone to ride off into the sunset (or sail off into the sunrise, as the case may be).

This isn't to say that there weren't problems with the episode. In particular, the scene where Jack, torn between the joy of making boatloads of money and the pain of watching Jenna viciously demolish kids, asks his baby daughter for advice and then interprets her cry of "Mommy" as "money" seemed weirdly off. Possibly the moment seemed entirely too callous on Jack's part, particularly given that Liddy's mommy remains trapped in North Korea; possibly I just didn't like the talking baby. Whatever it was, it was an off-note in an otherwise solid (and very funny) episode.

Outside of this scene there was plenty of stuff that worked, even beyond the unexpected emotional moment at the end. Jenna as the "mean" judge on the brilliantly titled America's Kidz Got Singing was the kind of pop-culture dissection that 30 Rock does better than anyone else; the combination of the "adorable kid" phenomenon and the Simon Cowell-esque viciousness was absolutely spot-on, and the inclusion of John McEnroe as the nice judge was a perfect, absurd touch. I also really liked the fact that as the episode progressed, Jenna's critiques got meaner and the kids got younger.

The Rapture story, while not exactly timely, generally worked well. I really like the Pete/Kenneth pairing when it comes up because of the way that Pete really tries to help Kenneth, which is very different from his relationship with any other character. Plus, Scott Adsit is a master at saying bizarre things in a matter-of-fact way - one of the reasons that, even Pete slowly goes insane, he remains a likable character - and he got to show that off tonight with gems like, "If it was my last day on earth, I wouldn't be here. I'd be with Paula, admitting I'm in love with her twin sister."

The best moment of the episode, though, was the aforementioned final scene. Finding out that Liz has a love interest was good; finding out that she has one after Jack has spent the entire episode repeating that he knows everything about her was great. And not getting to see the face of said love interest was fantastic. (Personally, I'm really hoping that it's Carol. I loved that relationship, and I need some Matt Damon in my life.) This move changed up Jack and Liz's relationship, which had been falling into a groove in which Jack is always there to help Liz through her personal problems. The fact that she's decided strike out on her own and enter a relationship without his help adds a new dynamic to the series' central pairing. Of course, it could all go back to normal by the end of the next episode, but I'm hoping that it doesn't. At least not until I find out who wins America's Kidz Got Singing.

Want to take down a politician? Don't be angry; be funny

Will Ferrell as George W. Bush on Saturday Night Live. Photo courtesy of monacome.com.

A lot of people have been criticizing Fred Armisen's increasingly dull portrayal of Barack Obama in the wake of the painfully unfunny cold open of last week's Steve Buscemi-helmed Saturday Night Live. It's not that Armisen's impression is necessarily bad - he usually nails the president's speech patterns, although he's been getting sloppier as the sketches have been getting worse - but it suffers in comparison to the show's history of impersonations that define the politician they're skewering. As a recent New York Times article pointed out, Chevy Chase's work as Gerald Ford turned the athletic former football player into a clumsy oaf, and Tina Fey's impression of Sarah Palin did more than anyone (except Palin herself) to destroy the McCain-Palin ticket's chances of victory.

The Times article points out that Armisen's Obama impersonation - as well as Jason Sudeikis' similarly uninspired work as Mitt Romney - also suffers in comparison to the passionate, often furious political comedy of Jon Stewart. However, while Stewart always has a lot of criticism for American politicians and politics in general, his comedy comes from a well of anger and frustration. Stewart's comedy is certainly searing, pointed and always intelligently delivered - he's probably the smartest comedian working today - but the personal touch that he brings to his work puts him in the middle of the debates and opens him up for attack. (His spats with the hosts of Crossfire, Jim Cramer and Donald Trump are offered up as evidence.) Jon Stewart's passion is an important part of the comedy landscape, but it also keeps his influence spreading too far.

Saturday Night Live has more potential to influence public opinion because of the show's position outside the political debate. The show savaged Democratic political figures such as Bill Clinton (via Darrell Hammond's marvelous impression) just as much as Republicans. Yes, Fey's Palin impersonation may have killed her political career, and Will Ferrell's George W. Bush solidified the former president's image as an idiot who made up words like "strategery" (which the actual Bush never did), but Hammond's portrayal of Clinton as a slick playboy was equally sharp. This sort of equal-opportunity mockery gives SNL a kind of power that Stewart will probably never have: the power to influence politics through mockery.

This is where the current SNL political sketches fail. Bill Hader's excellent Rick Perry and Andy Samberg's hilariously confused Rick Santorum aside, the current political sketches have been weak. The 2012 election is, in all probability, going to boil down to Barack Obama and Mitt Romney, and neither impression is particularly strong. You can certainly blame this on the candidates themselves rather than Sudeikis and Armisen, who are skilled comedians: Romney is mostly known for being the least offensive Republican candidate, and Obama's speech patterns are, as the Times points out, "flavorless or elegant, neither very funny." But while Palin, Bush and Clinton all had features that were eminently mockable - after all, Fey's lines in the sketch that lampooned Palin's interview with Katie Couric were mostly taken verbatim from the actual interview - Chase's Ford impression was as unrealistic as your average Michael Bay movie, and it resulted in a complete re-evaluation of the president. So far, Armisen and Sudeikis haven't accomplished that.

Would the cancellation of "Whitney" be such a terrible thing?

Whitney Cummings and Chris D'Ella in NBC's Whitney. Photo courtesy of daemonstv.com.

Yael Cohen at The Daily Beast recently took it upon herself to argue that Whitney Cumming's eponymous NBC sitcom represents a shift in the world of female stand-up comedy; namely, that Cummings can break down the barriers that keep skinny, long-legged, hot women from pursuing a career in an industry dominated by men, unattractive women and lesbians. If Cohen is right, Cumming's success onscreen (she's also a creator of CBS's Two Broke Girls, but behind-the-scenes work apparently doesn't count) could pave the way for the poor, disenfranchised hot girls who just want to do stand-up comedy, but who haven't been given the chance.

That might sound a little harsh, but I've always had a problem with attractive female actresses and comedians complaining that their looks prevent people from taking them seriously, despite a multitude of studies showing that attractive people earn more money, are smarter, and are happier than their less attractive counterparts. In a looks-obsessed culture like Hollywood, it seems even more ridiculous to argue that a woman who looks like Cummings is put at a disadvantage because of her beauty. Cohen, of course, has an explanation for this that takes her argument from questionable to actually offensive. She quotes Dave Rath, a (male) comedy manager, saying "So when a hot girl goes on stage all the guys want to be with her and all the women are like, why is my boyfriend looking at her that way? So the audience was always put off a little bit by attractive women."

Rath's explanation, and by extension Cohen's, hinges on the idea that women are jealous shrews who can't handle the presence of an another attractive woman, much less an attractive woman who is also funny. (To her credit, Cummings contradicts Rath, saying "Whereas I used to think that looking pretty or sexy would alienate women, now it's the opposite. Now I feel like when I embrace my femininity, it makes women relate to me more, because they go 'Oh, she's just like me, she puts on makeup, she tries to look cute...'") The bigger problem here, however, stems from another one of Rath's words of wisdom: "[Comedy] is about vulnerability, people have to identify with those things and that's what everybody is laughing it." The audience has to identify with the person onstage and their problems in order to find that person funny, and most women just do not look like Whitney Cummings (or similarly attractive comics Sarah Silverman and Chelsea Handler).

Of course, the fact that Cummings is hotter than most women doesn't mean we can't sympathize with her. I can sympathize with Liz Lemon just fine, and Tina Fey is nothing if not good-looking. The problem is that 30 Rock is a quick, well-written show and Whitney just isn't. I watched the pilot episode of Whitney, and it wasn't Cumming's looks that kept me from laughing at the show; it was the way the half-hour was devoid of any originality and simply rehashed the same tired jokes about couples who don't have sex enough and unreliable men. Whitney could have been a smart, incisive look at a part of our society that doesn't get a lot of screen time - committed couples who, for whatever reason, choose to remain unmarried - in the vein of this fall's best new comedies Up All Night and 2 Broke Girls. Instead, the jokes are straight out of a King of Queens rerun, and the writers fall back on the old romantic comedy cliche of making the gorgeous Cummings more vulnerable by making her socially inept. (Seriously, who sees a three-tiered display of cupcakes at a wedding reception and doesn't realize that those cupcakes are the trendy wedding cake?)

Cohen concludes her piece by saying that Whitney's failure would signal to the television industry that "audiences aren't ready for a rom-com sitcom centered around a good-looking female standup." Whitney has a good shot at survival - it is on NBC, after all, a network that tolerates low ratings because it's too busy circling the drain to worry about them - but its cancellation shouldn't mean that audiences can't handle a good-looking female standup. It means that audiences are discerning enough to reject a pile of week-old leftovers dressed up with a sprig of parsley to make them look "fresh." If you want to support Cummings, watch the very funny 2 Broke Girls and root for Kat Dennings, a female protagonist who is refreshingly normal-looking while still being pretty damn hot. That is the kind of barrier-breaking television that I want to see.