‘City as might have been’: Sitcoms and the 80s

We ain't going to the town / We're going to the city

If sitcom title sequences in the 70s marked an era of urban verisimilitude, then the 80s ushered in the age of the suburban fantasy. Think about it: Family Ties was set in a Columbus suburb; Growing Pains in Long Island; even Who’s the Boss exiled Tony Danza and onscreen daughter Alyssa Milano from Brooklyn to waspier pastures in Connecticut (a premise replicated in the straight-to-syndication series Charles in Charge). But even the few shows that were set in the city were inflected by a suburban consciousness: no longer were there any neighborhoods, or project housing, or public transportation, or, you know, people of color on the small screen; just downtown thoroughfares, skyscrapers, and landmarks. The sitcom city in the 80s was fit to be printed on a postcard, which, come to think of it, seems to reflect the larger role that urban life played in the imagination of upwardly-mobile (post-white flight) America at the time. It was a trip down to the financial district for work, or the baseball stadium for a Saturday outing, not a place where anyone actually seemed to live (even if the characters of these shows apparently did).*

1. Manhattan – Head of the Class (1986-91)


Head of the Class actually had one of the better title sequences of the era. Its theme was a ballsy, cinematic instrumental and came out ‘classical’ before it ‘rocked you’ with some harmonized keytars. Set in Monroe High School in Manhattan, and starring WKRP in Cincinnatti star Howard Hesseman, the Head of the Class opening was a sharp contrast to Welcome Back, Kotter‘s poetic scenes of Brooklyn. Instead, we open with New York’s familiar icons: the Chrysler and Empire State buildings, the Statue of Liberty, the famous yellow cabs, and sexy pedestrians. It’s Hollywood’s version of NYC, not the ‘hood life of, say, All in the Family. Still, to its credit, the show did reflect the shifting racial dynamics of the city since the Kotter days; braniac Indian, Jawaharlal Chodhury and the late addition of Jasper Kwong all signaled a New York transforming after the post-65 migrations from the Third World. Not that you could tell from the lily-white streets teach walked through.

2. Chicago – Perfect Strangers (1986-93)


The Chicago of Perfect Strangers has to be the antithesis of the Chicago of Good Times; the latter’s theme of survival, its ironic lyrical inversions, its gritty shots of the Cabrini-Green projects, give way to the former’s Reaganite fantasies of upward class mobility. Lines of communal inclusion (“Ain’t we lucky we got ’em”) are now replaced with individual exception (“It’s my life and my dream / and nothing’s gonna stop me now”), and the gospel choir is replaced with what sounds like Naked Eyes’ drum machine. There’s a lot going on in this sequence – first, the narrative of travel from small town to big city is twinned with the immigrant narrative of Old world to Western metropole (Cousin Larry’s drive from Wisconsin to Chicago / Balki “Borat” Bartokamous’s transcontinental schlep from “Meypos” to the US by steamer). Perfect Strangers is also the second show on this list that features the emblematic Statue of Liberty; no surprise, then, that creator Dale McRaven says he was inspired to write the show during the renewed patriotism after the ’84 olympics. And no surprise either, that Balki and Larry’s American dreams involved bagging one blonde wife, a piece, by the series’ end. That sort of luck calls for a dance of joy.

3. San Francisco – Full House (1987-95)


As the AIDS epidemic destroyed the lives of tens of thousands in San Francisco alone, and Reagan turned a homophobic eye, Jeff Franklin decided to celebrate non-traditional structures of the home by creating what is, probably, the most saccharine show that ever aired on television. There was nothing remotely regional about Full House, aside from the opening credits, and the reference to Bob Saget’s news job at ‘Wake Up, San Francisco.’ We have John Stamos at least partially to thank for this theme song. (Was I the only one who felt borderline queasy every time Stamos said, ‘have mercy’? Or when Coulier ‘cut.it.out.’?)

4. Boston – Cheers (1982-93)

Was Cheers’ opening sequence the greatest of the 80s? It’s certainly up there. An exterior shot of the Bull & Finch pub in Beacon Hill, Boston transforms into a sepia-toned montage of lithographs from a century of hard drinking. Gary Portnoy’s theme was, and still is, the perfect jingle for alcoholism I’ve ever heard: “Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.” The shot at 0:49 (“We Win!”) remains deeply ambiguous – Did the Allies just win? Did the Sox beat the Yanks? Did Bostonians just vote on the Big Dig? – whatever it was, it seems like it was worth a toast. Nevertheless, aside from that opening shot, Boston has no real presence in this theme.

I can draw contrasts all day between the opening credits of 70s and 80s sitcoms, and fault the latter for its unreal representations of urban life, but that’s not really my point. The 80s ushered in a deeply suburban sensibility to the sitcom, and the cities of these shows were represented from the vantage point of those suburbs – they were white, picturesque, sanitized, and totally unbelievable. They represented neoliberal desires of urban spaces, never once venturing over into the Southside or the Boroughs, where the world didn’t look so perfect, and a whole lot of shit needed rearranging.

Next week: the 90s and the invasion of the yuppies.

*The Cosby Show was firmly rooted in a Brooklyn brownstone, and the show constantly referenced its setting, but the yearly changes to the opening credits sort of threw it out of contention for this list.

– Thumbu Sammy

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The end of the mutiny and other things

Friends.  How many of us have them?
Well, word must’ve gotten out, ’cause the sepia mutiny* over at NBC has swiftly been quashed, with My Name is Earl returning to the 8 spot, and Jonathan nowhere to be seen on 30 Rock. Still, even if our tryst with network destiny turned out to be just a one night fling, it was glorious, man. It was glorious.

Luckily, tonight’s Office and 30 Rock made up for the loss of our emasculated, secretarial brown brother, with two solid offerings: in “Heavy Competition” the Michael Scott Paper Company started to chip away at Dunder Mifflin’s Scranton monopoly, and in “Jackie Jorm-Jomp,” Liz Lemon, after a brief flirtation with the Housewives of the Upper West Side, is back to her normal schtick at Rockefeller Plaza. Parks & Recreation, unfortunately, still hasn’t found its stride, and Knope still feels like a mashup of Michael Scott and Poehler’s Hillary. It did dawn on me tonight that one thing that P & R has that Office doesn’t is a town; and a specific town, Pawnee, full of incensed and lazy denizens (including one sex offender), who, for some completely ridiculous reasons, prefer a construction pit to a park. I’m willing to bite on that improbable plot, as long as the writers start to expand the characters of the town; Pawnee is a promising little setting, manageable enough to fill up with the sort of characters that made a place like, say, Cicely memorable two decades ago. Curious how they play it.

I’m calling The Office FTW. Even if Stringer Bell hasn’t done much since knocking Phyllis’ teeth out a few episodes ago, at least Michael’s fallout has brought a little life and a little bit of drama into the show. Only one more episode with String though, and it’s a shame that Idris Elba, after five episodes, doesn’t seem any funnier now than he did on The Wire. Any hardass could’ve filled in for Elba’s role if all he has to do is get angry at Michael and attract the adoration of Dunder Mifflin’s finest.

*By the way, I forgot to mention the leader of the revolt, Vikram (Ranjit Chowdhry) from telemarketing, on The Office last week.

– Thumbu Sammy

A Sepia mutiny on NBC

So the new Amy Poehler vehicle, Parks & Recreation debuted tonight, and critics everywhere are panning it. Critics, in fact, are aggregating other critics, in a collective gesture of panning. Some have admitted to feeling “ticked off.” Some are so angry, they’re drawing historic parallels between SNL and the Ku Klux Klan, through witty reverse acronyms (“TV’s great Kollege of Komedy Knowledge”).

To all these critics I simply ask, what the fuck is wrong with you? Granted, P & R does feel highly derivative of The Office, in form and content (same creators, after all). And in the half hour we’ve seen so far, Poehler’s Leslie Knope comes off like a blend of her Hillary Clinton impersonation and Michael Scott. The thing is, it’s only been a half hour. And newborns, as we all know, are universally ugly.

So, are you, like, all related?

With all of the discussion of Parks & Recreation‘s alleged failure, these critics missed the more important, debut of the night: NBC’s all-brown lineup! That’s right; for the first and possibly last time in the network’s history (or any network’s history, for that matter), every single show of tonight’s comedy lineup was graced with a desi presence: Mindy Kaling killed it as desperate customer service rep, Kelly Kapoor, hollerin’ at Stringer Bell; Aziz Ansari, the brown delicious wonder himself, obliterated reductive stereotypes of rednecks; and Maulik Pancholy played the emasculated South Asian man to perfection as 30 Rock‘s Jonathan. Never mind that Jonathan was fired in the episode (is GE imposing some kind of brown quota?), and that My Name is ‘Earl’ had to take the week off for it to happen: this was history. Come to think of it, desis were the story on television, all week long. Even if we were the only ones who noticed.

– Thumbu Sammy