Tag Archives: Sitcoms

Betty White’s muffin on the boob tube

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Which came first: the Snickers ad, the Facebook group, or SNL’s crowdsourced mandate to fete American sitcom icon Betty White? American as Apple Pie
To me this blonde’s netroots smack of a publicist’s hand, and White’s performance Saturday night all but validated SNL’s reluctance until now to spotlight the octogenarian’s one note routine. The SNL tribute could laud only her age, raising the specter that a proverbial domestic bread might have been named for her.

Betty White was a broadcast fixture, not a luminary. On the plus side, she hasn’t stooped to pitching life insurance on infomercials, although I suspect her screen persona lacked the gravitas. It does look like the Snickers “Divas” campaign wants to boost White’s brand recognition up to the visibility of its other stage and screen legends.

Of course Betty’s first name predates namesake archetypes of American comedy, but it’s no indication of her contribution. When a McGruber sketch had the title comic break character to wend an impassioned I Love You to grandmother White, I was horrified to predict that the actress’s persona had no stretch to stray from her signature negativity.

White may have begun her career in the age of the Honeymooners, but her caricatures belong squarely to the American sitcom as it devolved into cynicism. The high notes of Mary Tyler Moore and Golden Girls were achieved in spite of muddy cutouts like Betty White. The social relevance of every sitcom that followed was twilighted in my opinion by Oliver Stone’s brilliant parody of American television in Natural Born Killers.

Seeing Betty White on SNL reminded me of attending a celebration of another show business icon Shirley Jones. Both larger than life, both admirably spry, and both masters of well-honed chops, but we’re talking pork chops, with no more hue than the rosy cheeks of Paula Dean. Luminescent as they come, Jones could emote with a twinkle, but that didn’t make her Lena Horne. I know, apple pie is not an art medium.

Betty White can play the ditz or calculating shrew. Where else was SNL going to go with her but convalescent home vamp? I’m not sure the jokes made at the expense of her muffin weren’t clammier than Alec Baldwin’s Schweddy Balls. Hohoho, the ultimate promise of the boob tube.

Like surviving veterans of the wars quickly receding in our memories, White deserves honors rekindled with every new generation. Like the soldiers’ contributions, I’d say her deeds in particular were forgettable. We don’t ask our aging vets to reenact their killings. Bad jokes are worse than reenacted, they’re swung around afresh.

Leave Betty White to shill for candy bars, she’s part of America’s cultural pantheon and deservedly so. Laugh track optional.

Oompah Loompahs meet Jackass

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Willy Wonka Oompah LoompahsBy all accounts, Seinfeld was a ground-breaking comedy. Purporting to be a show about nothing, it was in reality a pretty big something.

Unlike typical formulaic sitcoms, Seinfeld’s main characters had no roots, vague identities and a conscious indifference to morals. They also lacked any semblance of couth, which was key to the show’s success.

Seinfeld was funny not because it was about nothing, but because nothing was off the table. Racial stereotyping, anti-Semitism, masturbation, impotence, faked orgasms, personal hygiene issues, birth control — everything was comedic fodder. Jerry and the gang bulldozed political correctness into the dust and made us laugh, if uncomfortably, in the process.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when last week’s decade-old episode featured 6-foot-3-inch Kramer and his new midget friend, Mickey. I’m sure the relationship was funny at the time, but in today’s Hollywood diminutive actors are commonplace. I don’t know if the dwarf population has increased, or if “little people” are simply willing to be exploited by reality show dimwits. In any case, the bloom is off the mini rosebush.

All that said, I’ll bet Jerry Seinfeld would find something funny about ubiquitous midgets.

Midgets pulling a plane

Public polls such a laugh

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Someone once related to me the definition of “polling.” It means the removal of a bull or steer’s horns. If we stick with the economists’ term of endearment for the general public, the great beast, the meaning of polling booths comes full circle. Polling is to take the sharp pointy bits from the common man’s arsenal. His power to vote.

If you want to bank on what the public will decide, this being a democracy, tell the public what to decide! More effectively, tell the public what it itself has decided. That’s an easier sell. Black equals white, no? Well 70% of the American public believes black is white. Ergo it may as well be. What “is” if not what is believed to be so?

Mainstream media’s infamous “some people say” mis-attribution not only represented what no-one indeed had said, it also implied that what some people say ought to include you, unless you want to hang with the wrong people. Polls go further. They tell us what some of US say, apparently. And not just some, but most.

When we’ve become too guarded to have spin-doctors tell us what we just heard, a focus group will tell us what we have concluded ourselves we heard. Did Saddam Hussein have anything to do with 9/11? Polls show Americans believe he did. Ergo…

What is this? Are we to believe democracy is about majority consensus concerning which is ass or hole in the ground?

Never mind that the media can choose who they poll, depending on the conclusion they want drawn. But who is the media to tell an American public what to decide about a given news development? Imagine if they tried to tell you that inedible crap tastes good. Actually I’m not impartial about that one. Imagine if they dared to tell you what was funny on television!

Laugh tracks on sitcoms break up the dead air between sometimes questionable jokes. Like professional laughers planted in a theater audience, they encourage the rest to laugh collectively, to share in the mirth at what must certainly have been funny. Since funny is subjective, and enjoyment is a matter of the spirit of the experience, it’s hard to argue that canned laughter doesn’t enhance the experience. No harm done, unless the jokes are really insensitive and mostly condescending put-downs. See the haunting Rodney Dangerfield sitcom parody sequence in Oliver Stone’s Natural Born Killers if you want to see a laughtrack off the tracks.

We’re used to being led to laughter, being misled by shills to fall for the cardsharp’s con or the rigged auction, being fooled by phony customers who claim to be cured by snake oil salesmen or revival preachers, you’d think by now we could see through “focus groups” of dubious wits appearing to giving voice to our silenced participation, or see through polling figures pulled from thin air, actually straight from an advertiser or politician’s custom order of their wet dream for our submission.