And what makes The Wire so great is the realism. I know nothing of the inner workings of gang life, the docks and the shipyard union that controls them, or Baltimore city hall. But The Wire is a show that makes you feel like you understand these avenues of life because the show so brilliantly immerses you into them. And I do have experience with the focuses of the show's fourth and fifth seasons, the education system and the world of print journalism, respectively. And while I'm sure these worlds are portrayed with 100% accuracy, this show went to great lengths to make these worlds as true to real life as possible.
This is one extreme of television.
Sitcoms, generally speaking, are the other extreme. There a number of culprits for why sitcoms can feel like anything but real, but none more obvious than the laugh track. Whether it's actual canned laughter spliced in after the fact or the reaction of a live studio audience, the sound of laughter is a constant reminder that what you're watching is a performance. A play, acted out in front of a camera for the purpose of airing on TV.
But I could go on and on about laugh tracks and my absolute hatred for them. And in fact, it's all but guaranteed that I'll revisit the topic again as I venture through these 270 episodes of Cheers.
Instead, I'd like to talk about some of the other things that make sitcoms unrealistic. One is the classic TV sitcom device of having the same actor portray more than one character. Such was the case in episode 24 where Rhea Pearlman's character of Carla finally goes into labor and the baby she was impregnated with since about halfway through season 1.
Her replacement while on maternity leave? Her sister, also played by Pearlman. While it does make sense that the sister of a character would look a lot like that person, what we have here is clearly just Rhea Pearlman in a wig. And that's fine, and can even be a comedic device, but in 2011, I found myself thoroughly disappointed when I finished this episode and there was not one joke made in reference to the fact that the character was clearly the same actress that plays Carla.
In other words, I wanted meta. The reason I want some metacommentary out of the sitcoms I watch is because I enjoy shows like Community, Scrubs, and Cougar Town, all of which routinely break the fourth wall.
And of course I didn't get it because this was 1983. This episode was made before I was born. That all said, does the fact that I watched this episode without my disbelief suspended prevent me from enjoying it?
Or how about the episodes featuring, Andy, the resident Cheers serial killer? Does the fact that there's a minor character in this series that is a professed serial killer who routinely attempts to commit felonies make the show less realistic? Absolutely. Does it pull the audience out of the story so much that it steps on the comedy? Not necessarily. By the sounds of the laughter during the first episode featuring Andy The Serial Killer, the audience of 1983 loved the idea of Sam mistakenly setting Diane up with a serial killer. And to an extent, I agree because it is a funny premise.
Episode 26, however, marks the return of Andy in a storyline whose premise I just couldn't buy into. For starters, the ep begins with Andy coming in and scarring the bejesus out of my sweet little Diane Chambers (and rightfully so, he once murdered a waitress!) before going on to saying hello to Sam and pulling out a gun and sticking up the joint. The bar's patrons and employees (mainly Carla who's back on the job after only an episode off) step in and are able to wrangle the gun away from Andy.
Yet the cops are not called because Diane convinces Sam to put down the phone because she believes she can help Andy. You see, Andy wants to become an actor and Diane feels a since of obligation to help him. And since she always seems to know some kind of critic or academic in high standing, she arranges for Andy to put on a performance in front of a stage director.
And, in the nature of 1980's sitcoms, the performance takes place right at the Cheers bar itself. And the performance? A scene from Shakespeare's Othello, the kill scene in particular. And, naturally, Andy confesses his love to Diane during their rehearsal and Diane says "I love you" back. And, naturally, Andy sees Diane kissing Sam and realizes he must kill her. He is, after all, a serial killer.
So the performance begins and Andy is hitting all the right lines until he begins legitimately chocking Diane to death. Norm and Coach tell Mayday he outta step but Sam doesn't do so because he knows Diane will get upset for breaking the scene.
Eventually the audience of barflies realizes Andy is chocking the life out of Diane and Sam, Norm and Cliff step into action, resulting in Norm sitting on Andy so he can't escape. Cue the audience's laughter.
Concerned for his main squeeze, Mayday asks her if she's okay. Diane says something to the affect that she won't be performing Shakespeare again any time soon. Mayday, straight face, replies with "No, I meant for tonight." Laughter and applause. Roll credits.
And yes, I laughed at Mayday's line, as I do with all of his lines. But I couldn't help thinking, then writing down, then blogging that this episode's premise and the very idea of Andy The Serial Killer as a minor character are a bit too dark for a show like this to handle realistically.
So let me invite you to leave a comment here. What do you think, dear reader? Am I over analyzing things? Or should I dwell on sitcom premises from the early 1980's that I, today, find unrealistic? Should I just shut up and enjoy the comedy?
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