if your a seinfeld fan --you might like this
At Last, a Show to Fill That 'Seinfeld' Void
By Tom Shales
Tuesday, June 11, 2002; Page C01
Acursory glance at the networks' new fall schedules -- and cursory is probably just what they deserve -- strongly suggests that our long, long wait is not over. Which long, long wait? The long, long wait for "the next 'Seinfeld.' "
Sitcoms come, sitcoms go. And then more sitcoms come and then more go. It's like "Grand Hotel," except sitcoms come and go instead of people. And no matter how many come and how many we "sample," as the industry jargon goes -- and no matter how many chuckles or titters one of these shows might inspire -- we are left with the certainty that another "Seinfeld" it's not.
Thus we retreat to the one place where we know we can find an eyeworthy and brainworthy sitcom, and that's "Seinfeld" itself. Reruns now air twice a day in many markets, including Washington (on Channel 5 at 7:30 and 11 p.m.). Twice a day is not too often, it turns out.
"Seinfeld" episodes, incredibly and distinctly enough, actually seem to improve with re-viewings. Only half a handful of episodes are likely to inspire an "Oh, not that one again" from a loyal viewer. The show has improved with age since its farewell in 1998. Passing time has reemphasized what should already have been obvious: It is very hard to make a television comedy this good.
Strange as it may be, the lives of four little people do amount to more than a hill of beans in this crazy world. Maybe the fact that the world has gone quite a bit crazier since "Seinfeld" went away is one of the things that make its absence so painful and the reruns so precious. So must-see-again.
So, what to do? Slink away in rueful despair, abandoning all hope of any network's producing another show as good? Well, yes, that would be a perfectly sensible thing to do. So much of television gives one that slinking feeling. But there is another possibility as yet untried: Bring back "Seinfeld." Just start it up again. Make a few phone calls, round up the cast and get the writers back to work. Chances are whatever shows they've gone on to aren't even half as good.
There is, of course, a major hurdle: Jerry Seinfeld has strongly indicated he won't do it again. Won't even think of it. Won't even consider a reunion show -- and in light of all the dreadful reunion shows the networks aired in May, he can hardly be blamed for that. And Daily Variety reports that Seinfeld is involved in the development of a pilot for ABC based on a series of books called "Letters From a Nut," which Seinfeld himself may have written under the pseudonym Ted L. Nancy.
But there's still a way. It sounds impractical, but it could work: "Seinfeld" without Seinfeld. That's right -- an idea right up there with pizzerias where you make your own pie and bras for men with saggy pecs: A Jerryless "Seinfeld" show, which need notbe a merryless "Seinfeld" show. After all, on any given episode, Seinfeld's three brilliant co-stars -- Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Jason Alexander and Michael Richards -- generated at least three-quarters of the laughs. Sometimes maybe even seven-eighths. So the worst we might get is a show only three-quarters as funny as the original. Hey, that's still pretty damn funny.
It's not as if they've all gone on to greater glory. Alexander and Richards both starred in abysmally misconceived sitcom flops. Louis-Dreyfus fared better with "Watching Ellie," but it isn't the kind of show you would skip dinner at the White House to see. How wonderful it would be to have the three of them back together again. Instead of using Jerry's apartment as a hangout, they could use Elaine's, or George's, or even Kramer's. Well, no, not Kramer's. But the first two would do.
Now for a title. "We Love Jerry" would overly emphasize Seinfeld's absence. "Hello, Jerry" would make it sound as if he's still on the show. "Everybody Loves Jerry" would only serve to inflate Seinfeld's ego. "Waiting for Jerry" would be good for an existentialist off-Broadway play but probably not for a sitcom.
Wait. Of course. The perfect title: "Where's Jerry?"
That's it. "Where's Jerry?" It's perfect -- oh, I said that. It suggests a certain soulful yearning -- but also holds out a hint of hope, in case he ever wanted to do a cameo or a guest shot (if the show were successful, you can bet he would). Maybe it could become a new catchphrase; on each episode, one character or another would stop at some point, look around and ask, "Hey, where's Jerry?" And another character would respond with something like: "Yeah. Where is Jerry?" or "I was wondering that myself" or "I don't know. I haven't seen him lately."
And then they just continue on with the episode.
Okay, come on -- it's better than nothing! It's better than whatever NBC has on tonight, or the next night, or any other night of the week.
None of this is meant to suggest that Jerry was a dispensable component of "Seinfeld." He was just great in it. He even did physical comedy, like when he pretended to wear glasses to fool Lloyd Braun, the mental patient. And sometimes there's a palpable tension in the air when you watch because you can sense that Seinfeld is just about to break up laughing at something one of the other characters has said or done.
And yet conversely, or is it inversely, it is hard to recall an instance of one of the other characters threatening to break up at something Seinfeld said or did. We just mention that in passing. Of course, we just mention any of this in passing. We're in the mention-in-passing business here. As long as you're going to have passing, you might as well brighten it up with some mentioning.
What a long, long time it seems to have been since new episodes of "Seinfeld" stopped appearing and the reruns settled in for, clearly, many years to come. Maybe from here to eternity. Knowing there's a "Seinfeld" rerun waiting right after the evening news (as in Washington) helps banish the depression thatthe evening news is bound to foment (either because the news is bad or because the weatherperson makes such a complete pest of himself). Knowing there's a "Seinfeld" rerun waiting at the end of the day means you're that much more likely to go to sleep feeling content, amused and, in this terrible age, even relatively unterrorized.
Amazingly, even in reruns "Seinfeld" is full of surprises. How is that possible? A good question. It's possible because most "Seinfeld" episodes have multiple funny plot lines, and it's hard to remember which ones go together. In other words, you're watching the show in which Jerry has to steal a marble rye from a little old lady, but you may have forgotten that it's also the show in which Kramer feeds "Beeferino" to a hansom cab horse, thereby giving it a near-toxic fit of flatulence.
Or you forget that the appearance of the low-talker is also the episode in which Jerry has to wear the puffy shirt on the "Today" show. (The low-talker is not to be confused with the close-talker or the high-talker).
So many elements from so many shows are vivid in memory, yet you're not always sure, when a rerun starts, exactly which ones will show up: the Soup Nazi, yadda yadda yadda, the mimbo, "serenity now," Junior Mints, the pig man, sponge-worthiness, master of one's domain, make-up sex, the "bro" or "mansiere," Elaine's nipple on her Christmas card, "Festivus for the rest of us," Kramer's lawsuit against the coffeehouse chain, the woman with "man hands," the Woody Woodpecker balloon, "War, What Is It Good For?" and, of course, the arguably immortal "Not that there's anything wrong with that."
In addition to the three superb actors supporting Jerry, there are all those wonderful character actors in memorable supporting parts, from Ian Abercrombie as Mr. Pitt to Patrick Warburton as Puddy to Brian George as Babu to Len Lesser as Uncle Leo to John O'Hurley as J. Peterman to Susan Walters as the beautiful young woman whose name rhymes with "a part of the female anatomy." Hint: not "Mulva."
Oh, good grief, we have yet to mention Jerry Stiller and Estelle Harris as George's parents and Liz Sheridan and Barney Martin as Jerry's. And, of course, now and forever, Wayne Knight as Newman. These wonderful actors deserve another chance to play those imperishable characters.
Larry David, the genius who co-created "Seinfeld," and whom Seinfeld himself once credited with "90 percent" of its excellence, did move on to his own new series, "Curb Your Enthusiasm," which begins its third season on HBO in September. But he could still find time to look over the new scripts for "Where's Jerry?" He only has to do, like, 13 of those "Curb Your Enthusiasms" a year. He has too much spare time on his hands. He needs gainful employment. All right, he doesn't. But we need him.
As is the case with Seinfeld, "Seinfeld" has made David a millionaire many times over. Maybe a million times over. He has more money than God, as the saying goes. But he still seems to enjoy the sport of it, the danger and daring that go with aspiring to make people laugh. It is such a noble calling. And, at the risk of repeating myself (like I haven't taken that risk before), especially now.
Especially now that the Cold War looks increasingly like the Good Old Days. Somebody said in some documentary the other day that during the Cold War, we all lived under the threat of attack. But at least it stayed a threat. A threat is far preferable to the real thing.
A George divided against itself cannot stand -- this we know from one of the old episodes. Similarly (well, not really, but please play along), a nation stranded without any hope of new "Seinfeld" episodes cannot laugh. Or -- we can laugh, and we do laugh, but just maybe not quite as much. This way, we would be likely to laugh more. There's laughter, after all, and then there's full-bodied, all-out, slap-the-couch-cushions laughter.
A misguided Hollywood is still trying to come up with "Friends" clones -- as if that dumb thing were some kind of masterpiece -- and, next season's schedules suggest, "Everybody Loves Raymond" clones, too. They're not really trying to come up with "Seinfeld" clones because it's too hard. But here we have a "Seinfeld" clone that would be so much like the old show that it would give us a renewed sense of security. It would be like getting our missing baby blanket back. In a way.
Jerry Seinfeld need only give the show his blessing. He could share in the profits yet need never appear if he didn't really want to. He wouldn't have to so much as set foot in the studio, or even allow his photograph to hang on somebody's wall. Not that there'd be anything wrong with that.
"Where's Jerry?" Giddyup!
Serenity now.
© 2002 The Washington Post Company |
