Monsters of Television

The show sells out during an episode where the company is trying to be bought.

The short answer to why I still watch The Office: habit, investment, and I hate myself.

Really, last week, with the clip show, should’ve been the last straw. There is nothing more self-indulgent and uninspired as a retrospective of what you’ve done in the past masquerading as “new” content. When a show like Lost does it, it’s because serialized drama has a learning curve (and it doesn’t get steeper than Lost’s). There’s no real learning curve for The Office, nothing that can’t be explained in a thirty second recap. “Jim and Pam are recently married. Andy likes the receptionist. Michael is inept and needy but has a heart of gold. They work at a paper supply company that’s going under.” Done and done. The major continuing storylines in a neat little package. So a clip show is nothing more than a look-back at yesteryear and, I would defend, at better times.

While 30 Rock has taken the mantle of innovative comedy on NBC, The Office has languished in a comedic torpor. The show lacks the spark it once had, that inspired creativity that skyrocketed Jim and Pam as household names. The first season was derivative of the original BBC series but seasons 2 and 3 broke the mold a bit (mostly because there were only 12 episodes of the original series — what else could they copy?) and it finally struck out on its own. People stopped comparing it (so much) to Ricky Gervais’s vision because the US’s version of The Office was funny in its own way. Episodes like “Office Olympics,” “Booze Cruise,” and “A Benihana Christmas” set it apart from its British counterpart in scope and tone. Jim was different from Tim in that American Dream vs Ex-Empire way, Jim being a bit more assured than Tim. Michael was different than David because, as useless as he often is, he also adds value to the company with a savant-like ability to sell. The show used to be consistent. It used to be original.

The show has lost its sharpness. My Thursday night ritual to watch The Office used to mean a half-hour of guffaws (guffaws!) and now, from 9:00-9:30 I barely manage a couple chuckles. But I can’t find a way to quit the show. Some Office detractors would say they tune in hoping for a laugh. I don’t know that I can say that. I think I have a marketing message forever imprinted on my brain telling me Thursday night on NBC is Must-See TV and, post-Friends and -Seinfeld, that anchor is The Office, far and away the grizzled veteran of the current lineup. Maybe I’m watching out of respect?

Or maybe I’m watching it for the same reason I’m still watching Scrubs. Scrubs is a show that should’ve faded away long ago, the characters becoming live-action cartoons of their original visions, demonstrating no natural progression except to become prone to platitudes in their old(er) age while maintaining spurts of low-brow physical comedy. You look back at episodes like “My Screwup” and you wonder where that creativity went and when the show turned from being a medical dramedy to a romantic sitcom in which people work in a hospital (or medical school now, I guess). Yet I continue to watch it, not laughing. Because I’m invested in the characters, the story. I thought I would get my closure in the finale of last season (“My Finale”) and yet the quasi-reboot of the series is still taking up room on my DVR.

The Office has done better by its characters, never giving up on them the way the writers for Scrubs sold out theirs. Jim and Pam finally did get married, despite that unrequited love story being core to the original series and the opening seasons of this series. But, how long could they continue that before it got annoying (something Chuck will have to think about eventually)? I still care about all the characters at Dunder-Mifflin. The actors are still playing their characters with some sharpness. This new storyline about being taken over by a new company has infused the show with more plot but it just doesn’t do it for me any more. This is a show that’s just coasting on a network with few options.

If there’s anything we learned from Juliet on Lost it’s that just because you love something, it doesn’t mean you’re meant to be together. The Office is a show I once touted love for, a fierce supporter in the face of naysayers telling me the BBC series was better and more engaging. My vocabulary was chock full of Office-isms. I loved all the Jam moments. But I loved something that was in the past. And maybe that’s what the retrospective last week was all about. Like when you’re in an argument with the person you’re in a souring relationship with and they try to remind you of all the good times.

The Show: “Remember when Jan had that line about ‘collapsing like a dying star’ at the cocktail party? Remember Jim and Pam’s moment at Casino Night? Remember when Michael marked the Benihana server’s arm because he couldn’t tell which one was his ‘girlfriend’ at the Christmas party? Those were good times.”
Me: “But we never have those good times anymore. It’s like we’re going through the motions of this relationship but the love isn’t there.”
The Show “It’s there! It’s there! I promise! Listen, just stick around. We can go back to how it used to be. It used to be so good. Don’t you want to go back there? We can make this work. Flonkerton!”
Me: “I don’t know.”

I’m still engaged in this relationship, still tuning in (sometimes even live) to watch The Office not impress me anymore. Maybe I’m just jaded by good comedy. Maybe the show’s still good and I’m just used to it so I don’t get that same rush I used to get. Maybe I tell myself these things because I’m in denial about a bad relationship.

But, here I am, still watching.