Monday, October 7, 2019

"'Seinfeld' v. 'Friends'"


I recently watched a CNN hour-long celebration of the twenty-fifty anniversary of Friends (1994-2004.)  Along with Seinfeld (1988-1998), Friends is considered one of the best, and among the last of the best, network half-hour comedies of all time.  You can throw in Everybody Loves Raymond (1996-2005) in there, and you will get no argument from me.  Those shows were terrific.

Which does not mean there’s no “favorite.”

You know how Friends’s great success led to people – I guess women, but the door was wide open – deciding whether they were identifyingly “a Rachel” or “a Monica”?  Well in a similar fashion, there is a delineating distinction as to whether you are preferentially a “Seinfeld” or a “Friends. 

Count me unequivocally among the Seinfelds.

And here is one reason why.

Oh wait, two reasons.  But I shall handle the second reason first.

For the last chunk of its on-air existence Friends went unabashedly “soap opera.”

For me, that was definitely,

“Check, please.”

Now – the more visceral issue.  Which is the following.

Forget that the friends on Friends were young and sexy and hot and magazine-cover-worthy.  I stick exclusively to “writing style.”

“Updated”?  Sure.  (“Ross and sister Monica, fighting over the last condom in the apartment”?)  By fundamentally, Friends is a standard sitcom, exquisitely executed. 

The jokes are different.  (“Let’s go for Chinese food.  Or as they call it in China, food.”)  But they are still “jokes”, with traditional setups and punch lines.  The Friends jokes were just – taking “just” not at all lightly – demonstrably funnier.  (And if they hadn’t gone “soap opera”, I would have never jumped ship.)

By contrast, as a half-hour comedy, Seinfeld was “molecularly” – a word rarely applied to half-hour comedies and I use it only because I want to – unique.

A single example will suffice.

One of the hardest things in sitcom writing is devising the opening “beat” of a scene, an isolated comedy “bit” before someone walks in the door and the episode’s storyline begins. 

They used to call that a “Free Joke”, meaning you could write virtually anything you wanted.  I always hated “Free Jokes”, stewingly agonizing, “Like what?

Seinfeld – like its eponymous namesake, observant comedian Jerry – was committed to small but, to the participants, meaningful issues their lives, such as “How often do you trim your toenails?” to “How much do you tip a hotel maid?”  (And how much can you deduct if they tuck the sheets in too tightly?)

Here is a “Free Joke” from Seinfeld.  (Interestingly, I recall the “Free Joke”, but I do not remember the episode.)    

Jerry and George are in Jerry’s apartment.  And – this being exactly why they invented the term – out of the blue, George says,

“I was considering buying a yo-yo.”

Nothing like that, ever on Friends.

This is not some quirky, albeit hilarious, “Phoebe” non-sequitor, because it actually “sequitors” nothing.  George faces this troubling conundrum, and he is sounding out Jerry.

For George, this is a possibly life-changing decision.  That’s why he is still “considering it.”  Seeking the sage wisdom of his pal Jerry, before he affirmatively “jumps in.”  And why not?  George could be stuck with a yo-yo he should never have bought in the first place!

To me, this incomparable “Free Joke” exemplifies the countless other sublime moments that place Seinfeld at the absolute…

Wait.  What am I doing?

(I can feel this post escaping my control.  Not for long.  Because it’s almost time to go home.)

It is not difficult to make – I am a “trained professional” so I can do it – a credible argument for why Seinfeld is a better sitcom than Friends.  (Valuing groundbreaking freshness over stale “sitcom” expertise, creatively “moving the needle.”)

The thing is this.  (And it becomes more “this” as our culture falls further into the abyss.   Note:  I was not planning to go here.  A “Big Voice” told me, “You must!”)

Think about it.

When, due to indisputable persuasion, have you changed you minds about anything?  As in,

“Oh, yeah.  I am henceforth thinking like you.”

Does the word “Never!” ring an acknowledging bell?

Which also answers the next question:

“When have you ever changed somebody else’s mind about anything?”  As in,

“Because of you, the scales have fallen from my eyes and I see things truly at last!”

Bottom Line:

Nobody changes their mind about anything.

Leaving me helplessly mumbling,

“He was considering buying a yo-yo!

As steadfast “Friends People” go,

“Could you possibly be any less boring?”

1 comment:

Wendy M. Grossman said...

I think of an occasion in the mid to late 1990s when a guy I was talking to over a mutual friend's celebratory dinner (he'd won an award) discovered that I had written a newspaper piece explaining the physics of firewalking. In vast excitement, he exclaimed, "You ruined my life!" It turned out that he had, when he was much younger, decided not to pursue physics as a profession because it couldn't explain firewalking. And now he discovered, by my hand, that it *could*. And he accepted the explanation as true and valid.

That is changing one's mind based on evidence. You're talking about persuading someone to adopt a different opinion.

That happens to, though it's usually internal to the person because *they* changed and the thing they thought before now looks different to them. One could easily be a FRIENDS when you're a lonely, scared teenager wishing for comfort and a family, and become a SEINFELD when you're older, more confident, and happier.

I believe that the existence of sober alcoholics proves that people can and do change. I also contend that the times in my personal life when negotiations from a place of agremeent have ended in an agreement about what's reasonable show that opinions can change, too.

wg