Clockwise from top left: David Neher in New Girl, Modern Family, How I
Met Your Mother and Community. Photos courtesy of sorozatjunkie.com,
tumblr.com and CBS.
That Neher is some kind of something. Boy, this Neher is all anybody's ever talking about. So sick and tired of hearing about how brilliant that Neher is. Overrated.
Alright, so maybe you're not yet tired of hearing about how brilliant David Neher is. That's probably because you don't know his name. However, if you're anything like me, looking at the photos up there is tickling your brain. You're wrinkling your forehead and desperately searching IMDb to figure out just where exactly you've seen that curly head of hair and outrageously proportioned forehead before. You just know he looks familiar, but you don't know why.
To answer your question: you haven't just seen David Neher somewhere, you've seen him everywhere. Did you recently check out a show by the great sketch comedy group Upright Citizens Brigade? Or maybe you checked out an episode of Funny or Die's "The Amazing Adventures of David and Jennie"? Or, most likely, maybe you saw Neher in one of his four (!) guest appearances on network sitcoms this fall: he obnoxiously berated Schmidt in the pilot episode of New Girl; was tortured by the study group in Community's "Competitive Ecology"; stole Haley's money in exchange for a promise of fake IDs on Modern Family's "Hit and Run"; and, most recently, offered a pregnant Lily his nachos and some advice on facial hair in "Tick Tick Tick," the ninth episode of How I Met Your Mother's seventh season.
You would think that appearing in sitcoms on each of the four major networks would keep a guy plenty busy, but Neher isn't about to stop. He was just cast opposite Jay Malone as one of the leads on Conan O'Brien's as-yet-untitled comedy pilot for TBS (which is currently referred to as BFF, you know... in case you were interested). Neher will be playing the childhood BFF (and there's why the tentative title is relevant!) of Malone's character, a husband and father who quits his job and moves back to his old neighborhood. BFF may not be the Community spinoff, Todd!, about a young veteran's journey to honor his dying father's wish of finishing college (copyright Alex Israel), that we were all hoping for (and by "we all," I mean only me), but here's hoping the show succeeds anyway. After all, I'd love to be able to remember Neher's name without looking it up on IMDb. Such a hard-working guy deserves that much.
Danny Pudi and Gillian Jacobs in Community. Photo courtesy of fanforums.com.
This fall, many media outlets are trumpeting the resurgence of comedy on TV, based on the enormous ratings pulled in by The Big Bang Theory, Two and a Half Men, Modern Family and New Girl and seeming fatigue with reality shows and heavily serialized dramas. Reality shows like The X Factor and expensive sci-fi dramas like Terra Nova have been pulling in solid numbers, but they're a far cry from their smash predecessors American Idol and Lost, while a number of underwhelming dramas (The Playboy Club, Charlie's Angels) came and went with barely a whisper. Compared to the enormous buzz surrounding comedy offerings like New Girl and 2 Broke Girls, dramas and reality shows are looking weak indeed.
It was a little shocking, then, to read a recent headline on Splitsider.com that asks if the 2011-2012 season is the worst season for sitcoms in a decade. (For the record, the author ultimately concludes that it's only the third-worst season for new comedies since 2000; apparently the sitcoms of 2002-2003, 2000-2001 and 2007-2008 were worse). After completing the list, it becomes clear why the author chooses to bash himself against the impenetrable wall of the TV pundit elite. The top three TV seasons for comedies are, in order: 2009-2010 (the premiere year of Community, Cougartown and Modern Family); 2001-2002 (Andy Richter Controls the Universe, Scrubs, The Tick and Undeclared); and 2008-2009 (Better Off Ted and Parks and Recreation). In other words, the "best" years for sitcoms were the years that spawned low-rated critical darlings like Parks and Rec, Community, Scrubs and all the short-lived, too-edgy-for-primetime series that premiered in 2001. The 2003-2004 season, meanwhile, falls midway down the list, because apparently the reviled Two and a Half Men cancels out the genius of Arrested Development.
This piece brings into sharp relief the divide between critical adoration and popularity. Modern Family and The Big Bang Theory aside, almost all the shows the author categorizes as "good" spent most of their existence with the fear of cancellation hanging over their heads (if they even made it far enough to worry about being cancelled). If you were to look at The A.V. Club's TV page on a Friday morning, you could be forgiven for thinking that Community was the most popular show in the history of television. Meanwhile, out in the real world, The Big Bang Theory pulled in four times the viewership of Community, while Rules of Engagement (which is apparently a show that appears on television)had triple the viewership of Parks and Recreation.
There is a really fascinating dynamic at play here between the opinions of critics and what's popular with the masses. Unfortunately, this dynamic is often reduced to a simplistic game of childish name-calling, with the fans of quirky, low-rated shows maintaining that only old racists and uneducated, NASCAR-loving hicks could ever stomach Two and a Half Men, while those who chuckle at Jon Cryer's antics on those shows are bewildered by the fact that anyone could find the absurd, self-referential antics of the Greendale study group funny. It's oddly reminiscent of the "dialogue" (read: angry shouting) between the pansy-assed, liberal, Obama-supporting commie bastards and the prejudiced, out-of-touch, heartless capitalist pigs. (In the immortal words of Liz Lemon, "Yeah, suck it, I do read the paper!")
A disconnect between what is considered "good" by the critical establishment and what is popular is nothing new. There's a reason that the most critically acclaimed movies of 2010 (ranked by Rotten Tomatoes) were Waste Land, a documentary about a Brazilian artist photographing garbage pickers, and Into Eternity, a "meditation on human folly, punctuated by philosophical and historical references" by conceptual artist Michael Madsen. They may have gotten 100% good reviews, but the words "conceptual artist" make me want nothing more than to watch robots smash each other in Transformers 5: Planet of the Earth (once again, with much thanks to Liz Lemon). And it's not just The New Yorker passing out these reviews; the Philadelphia Enquirer and TheWashington Post were among the publications that endorsed these films.
To be fair, Waste Land and Into Eternity are probably great films. They're just not appealing to a large demographic of people. And, as much as it pains me to say it, the self-referential absurdity of Community and the inside-showbiz jokes of 30 Rock might not interest a lot of people either. I like to think that if more people tuned in to these shows they'd find the following they deserve, and I could certainly be right about that. Of course, the three people who saw Into Eternity probably think the same thing, and they could be right too. So let's not be too mean to the people who choose to watch Two and a Half Men; they might just be turned off by descriptions of the show as "absurdist" and "experimental" in the same way hearing "conceptual artist" makes me want to curl up on my couch and watch reruns of Saturday Night Live until my brain rots. And even if I love Community and you love Rules of Engagement, we can probably agree on one thing: a half-hour comedy, no matter which comedy it is, is still more consequential than Jersey Shore can ever hope to be. Oh, wait...
Jane Krakowski and Alec Baldwin in 30 Rock's live episode. Photo courtesy of tvgeekarmy.com.
Ever since the resurgence of single-camera sitcoms that began in the early 00's with shows like The Office, Scrubs and the late, great Arrested Development, a lot of the discussion of comedy on television has centered on the merits of a single-camera setup versus a multi-camera one. When the aforementioned shows premiered, the landscape of TV comedy was dominated by shows filmed using a multi-camera setup - a TV show staged like a play, filmed in front of a live audience with limited sets - including such giants as Seinfeld, Friends and Everybody Loves Raymond. These days, the landscape of TV comedy is much more divided between the two formats, with single-camera shows like 30 Rock, Community and Modern Family squaring off against multi-camera competitors The Big Bang Theory, Two and a Half Men and How I Met Your Mother.
If you look at those lists of shows, you can probably guess what a lot of the dialogue surrounding the issue is going to look like. These days, single-camera shows have an aura of youth, cleverness and intelligence that multi-camera sitcoms just don't. When a single-camera sitcom falters in the ratings, viewers and internet commentators tend to react with cries of, "It's just too smart for most people," while multi-camera failures are greeted as a sign that the format is too "old-fashioned" or "dumbed-down." I have definitely been guilty of this; as a huge fan of Community's rapid-fire dialogue, willingness to venture into the absurd and sharply-drawn characterizations, I tend to explain the show's (painfully) low ratings by dismissing those who don't love it as unintelligent and old fashioned, viewers who wouldn't know originality if it bashed them over the head.
I should probably stop doing that. Because the thing is, a sitcom's use of the single-camera format doesn't mean it's automatically smart and funny, and the presence of a live audience and multiple cameras doesn't indicate the opposite qualities. I started to rethink my position after watching new fall offerings New Girl and 2 Broke Girls. Those who read my review of those shows will probably remember that I found New Girl to be grating and reliant on cliches, while 2 Broke Girls had a fresher perspective. (The second episode of 2 Broke Girls was less promising, but I think the kinks can probably be worked out.) 2 Broke Girls also happens to be a multi-camera sitcom.
That's not to say that the two formats are interchangeable. There are a lot of things that you can do with a single-camera show that just aren't possible with a multi-camera setup. The latter, by definition, features limited options in terms of sets - it's why Seinfeld almost always took place in either Jerry's apartment or Monk's Cafe. The difference in scope is nicely illustrated by comparing scenes featuring paintball from The Big Bang Theory and Community:
The BBT scene is certainly funny, and even features a nice moment of film parody in Sheldon's dramatic death scene. However, the scene is basically limited to the guys talking in a shed, and Sheldon being shot from offscreen, since the sets are presumably open to the audience. Now watch the Community clip:
Even ignoring the hopped-up opening credits, there is a lot going on in this scene. From the fact that the scene takes place in a hallway (something you rarely see in a multi-camera setup) to the way the camera angles are used to create suspense (is Annie going to catch Neil before he shoots her?) to the dramatic close-ups on both characters' faces, this is not a scene that could take place on a multi-camera show. Like almost everything that happens on Community, it wouldn't be possible. (Just think about the fact that most study group scenes take place with all the characters sitting around a table. Not going to work when you have a live audience to contend with.)
Another difference between the two formats is the comedic rhythm. Multi-camera shows shot in front of an audience rely heavily on a setup-punchline rhythm; the point is to make a joke, let the audience laugh, and then get started on setting up the next joke. Single-camera shows don't work like that. The jokes can come thick and fast, forcing the audience to break out of a particular rhythm and try to catch as much funny as they can. It's the reason you can watch any given episode of Arrested Development for the tenth time, and still pick up on new jokes and references. You can see the way the comedic rhythm alters if you watch 30 Rock's live episode. The episode was aired live, so it's considerably rougher than your average multi-camera sitcom, but it follows the same format, and the pacing differences are apparent. This isn't a time for a rapid-fire string of impressions or gollum-esque multiple personalities; instead, the episode sets up punchlines (Jack wearing a hand-knit poncho, Liz's continually dashed hopes that someone remembers her birthday), knocks them out of the way, and gets started on the next joke.
The thing is, a more polished version of the 30 Rock live episode would probably be a pretty great show, at least as long as Tina Fey was behind it. It just wouldn't be 30 Rock. That's the thing about debating the merits of the two formats; one isn't inherently better than the other, they're just different. It seems a little ridiculous to mock the multi-camera format as old-fashioned when it gave us a show like Seinfeld, which was not only groundbreaking in its time, but which holds up just as well today. Conversely, it seems disingenuous to argue that single-camera shows are smart and modern when that format gave us Outsourced. A show shouldn't be judged by its format, it should be judged by how the format is used to capture the spirit of a particular episode. One of New Girl's biggest problems (in addition to the shallow characterizations, lazy stereotyping and painful attempts to be cute) is that the writers are using a multi-camera, setup-punchline rhythm in a format built for rapid-fire jokes and sophisticated visual gags.
If a single-camera show is going to be worth the extra money (shooting in this format is much more expensive and time-consuming, because you have to shoot multiple takes of each scene and built much more elaborate sets), you have to know how to use the format to your advantage. Right now, Community is the best example of the sheer potential inherent in the format; the over-the-top movie parodies wouldn't be possible in a multi-camera setup, and the quieter, more emotional moments have more punch because the actors can play them more naturally, rather than having to perform them for a crowd. On the other hand, The Big Bang Theory takes advantage of the format by having long takes that focus on the interaction between the different characters and that feel organic in a different way; since everyone's coverage is filmed simultaneously, the scene can just be about the actors playing off each other and establishing a great give-and-take. BBT excels at this type of scene, and these interactions between the main characters are one of the reasons I keep coming back to the show.
The point that I'm trying to make (and that I may have lost for a while in the middle there) is that neither format is inherently better. The format of The Big Bang Theory plays to its strengths - a strong ensemble, a relaxed rhythm, and the kind of energy that results from performing in front of an audience - just as the format of Community allows both the grandiose parodies and the sweet, quiet moments to really pop. It's not about the format you use, its about what you do with it, and really understanding the merits and drawbacks of either format is the only way to end up with a genuinely good product. So let's stop calling multi-camera shows "stupid" and single-camera shows "weird," and just let them both be as funny as they can be. If we can put aside our differences, we can focus on our real enemy: reality television. Seriously, that stuff just sucks.
Kat Dennings and Beth Behrs in 2 Broke Girls; Zooey Deschanel in New Girl. Photos courtesy of poptower.com and ew.com.
2 Broke Girls and New Girl, which both had their premieres this week, are two very different shows featuring female protagonists. One is shot in the decidedly un-hip multi-camera format, complete with laugh track, while the other takes advantage of the single-camera style that distinguishes shows like 30 Rock and Community. One airs on CBS, which is widely regarded as a network that caters to middle-aged people with a focus on procedurals, while the other airs on FOX, a network that prides itself on being the home of Family Guy. And one of these shows is trying to present a different portrayal of women as independent, smart, foul-mouthed and tough even in their vulnerability, while the other trades in tired cliches and substitutes quirks for actual personality. Oddly enough, the clever, transgressive one is CBS' new multi-camera sitcom 2 Broke Girls. The other one is FOX's New Girl.
2 Broke Girls is the story of Max (the phenomenal Kat Dennings), a tough, streetwise waitress, and Caroline (Beth Behrs), a trust-fund baby who loses her fortune to her father's ponzi scheme and ends up waiting tables with Max. The description may sound unoriginal - it certainly did to me when I first heard about the show - but the somewhat clunky premise is redeemed by writing that is mostly sharp and outstanding performances by the two lead actresses, as well as a fairly realistic portrayal of a social class that doesn't often show up on television.
The great thing about 2 Broke Girls is the way that the writers, Dennings and Behrs refuse to let Max and Caroline slide into cliche. Yes, Max may be a sardonic, streetwise chick, but she is also able to drop her prejudices long enough to see that Caroline really needs her help. Her dialogue is sometimes overwrought - a few too many casual uses of the word "vagina" come off as desperate rather than hip, and an unfortunate pun about Coldplay nearly derails a magnificent takedown of some hipsters - but Dennings imbues the character with a likability that complements, rather than contradicting, her smart sarcasm. It's also nice to see Dennings - a real woman with a real woman's body - playing a character for whom body type is a complete non-issue.
Caroline's character is slightly more schizophrenic, although this seems to be the fault of the writing rather than Behrs' sharp, nuanced performance. Caroline starts the hour as a stereotypical, Paris Hilton-type rich girl who has never worked a day in her life, but Behrs imbues the character with a shrewdness and intelligence that belies this initial impression and makes you believe that yes, this character probably did attend the Wharton School of Business. By the end of the episode, Caroline has demonstrated that, while she isn't the most street-smart person in the world (which she obviously wouldn't be) she is far from the vapid heirhead that the earlier scenes made her out to be. Similarly, Max and Caroline become friends by the end of the episode, and while their playful mockery of each other continues, it's clear that they like and respect each other.
The supporting cast, however, never makes it out of the realm of stereotype. It's only the first episode, and things could easily change for the better, but the parade of cliches in the supporting cast is baffling, particularly when compared to the well-rounded leads. In particular, the Park Avenue matron for whom Max nannies during the day is so one-dimensional that her lines made me wince.
Along with its two immensely talented leads, the most impressive part of 2 Broke Girls is the honest but not depressing way the show portrays the life of the working poor. Max and Caroline aren't the cast of Friends, living in spacious apartments and dining out every night - they're both working menial jobs (Max works two of them) and living paycheck to paycheck. The reality of their situation is all too prevalent, given the current state of economy, but it's also a reality that is only rarely seen on TV, and hardly ever in a half-hour sitcom.
New Girl, on the other hand, has hardly a shred of reality to call its own. This isn't necessarily a bad thing - 30 Rock and Community are hardly realistic, and they're two of the funniest shows on TV - but the show really needs something to ground it, particularly since none of the characters are anything more than a collection of quirks. While watching Zooey Deschanel's over-the-top, "adorable" antics, I found myself thinking of a line from the excellent Doctor Who episode "Amy's Choice:" "If you had any more tawdry quirks, you could open a tawdry quirk factory." Well, not only has Deschanel's Jess opened the factory, she's produced enough product for a lifetime of sales.
I'm not a Zooey Deschanel hater. I enjoyed her performances in Elf and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and I didn't even hate her that much in (500) Days of Summer. The difference between her roles in those films and her role in New Girl, however, is that in those roles she was actually playing a character. New Girl's Jess, however, isn't a character; she's a collection of eccentricities and insecurities that never coheres into an actual human being. When your character's defining trait is cutely singing at random moments, it might be time to evaluate your performance. Not to mention that Deschanel is trying to so hard to be adorable and quirky that it's exhausting to watch. Dial it down a notch, Zooey; stop and take a breath once and a while.
None of the other characters are really any better. The three guys that Jess moves in with after a nasty break-up are barely sketched caricatures - the sadsack, the jock, and the douchebag. Of these three, the sadsack, who goes by the name of Nick (Jake M. Johnson) is the most relatable, largely because he is the only character who doesn't exist solely for the purpose of being funny. Nick's conversation with an ex-girlfriend outside a party is one of a few moments that seems to be grounded in any kind of reality, and it's a nice break from the forced cutesiness that plagues the rest of the episode. Of the other two guys, Max Greenfield's Schmidt spends most of the episode taking his shirt off at random moments and being forced to put money in a "douchebag jar," while Damon Wayans Jr.'s Coach was written off the show after the pilot episode, and is thus completely irrelevant.
New Girl will probably stick around for a while, based on a confounding number of good reviews and the love that many critics and viewers have for Deschanel. I'm hoping that 2 Broke Girls also manages to stick around long enough to iron out the kinks and present the honest, funny portrayal of female friendship and financial worries that is waiting to get out. I personally hope that New Girl sticks around long enough to do a crossover episode with 2 Broke Girls, because I would love to see what Max would have to say about Jess' hipster glasses and general lack of self-awareness, not to mention her complete lack of common sense. I bet that even Caroline could come up with a few choice words.
