Welcome to a new Sitcom Tuesday, on a Wednesday! This week, I’m excited to start my coverage of The Office (2005-2013, NBC), which is currently available on DVD and Peacock. Please note that for these posts, I watched and will be considering the regular version of the show that currently appears on cable and online — with 204 half-hour episodes.

The Office stars STEVE CARELL as Michael Scott, RAINN WILSON as Dwight K. Schrute, JOHN KRASINSKI as Jim Halpert, JENNA FISCHER as Pam Beesly, and B.J. NOVAK as Ryan Howard. See more of the regular ensemble cast here.

The U.S. version of The Office (hereafter referred to only as The Office unless in direct comparison to the U.K. show on which it’s based) is the sitcom of the 2000s – the one that I’d cite as the best case study for this era and its major trends. There are funnier shows (Curb Your Enthusiasm, Arrested Development, 30 Rock) and more popular shows (Two And A Half Men) with their own degrees of impact on the genre’s trajectory, but none is as rightful an ambassador for this decade, where The Office’s mainstream positioning on a legacy broadcast network granted it a greater ability to represent and influence this liminal, evolving time for the American sitcom, embodying equally vital elements that we could define as both reflective of “old” trends and “new” trends – right when traditionalism was coexisting and/or clashing with a desire for modernity. And its general excellence (within the 2000s) only gives its credibility a compelling boost, allowing it to stand not merely as a fine case study, but also as a genuinely good situation comedy, boasting I’d say, the sitcom character of the decade: Michael Scott. But we’ll get to him later. In the meantime, let’s talk about the old and the new. The “new” sensibilities are the most obvious — this is, for starters, a single-camera show, which was not the typical setup for mid-’00s comedies on NBC, a Big Three broadcast network that had offered most of the 1990s’ major sitcom hits, all of which were live audience multi-cams and (mostly) gone by the 2000s’ midpoint. Although there had been plenty of single-cams on both cable and even broadcast prior to 2005 (NBC’s own Scrubs, for instance), it still was not the most common choice, especially on NBC, where Will & Grace remained its best performer. That changed with The Office and the even-better-rated My Name Is Earl, which debuted during the 2005-2006 season and even helped improve The Office’s fortunes, creating a landscape for new comedies to blossom in the Thursday night block that NBC was trying to reseed, now with single-cams that could be compatible with both Earl and The Office. Here, great shows like 30 Rock, Parks And Recreation, and Community followed – single-cams owing some part of themselves to Earl, and more specifically, to the funnier, more critically well-received and aesthetically influential Office.

The show with the most direct link to The Office is 2009’s Parks And Rec, which was spearheaded by two of the former’s key writers, displaying a similar ensemble workplace premise with a mockumentary framing – a defining attribute of both series and another “new” stylistic marker that helps posit The Office as a forward-looking sample of its era. As we’ve explored with Curb and Arrested Development and The Comeback, the mockumentary construct is particularly reminiscent of reality TV, where intrinsic metatheatricality creates different types of humor by playing with levels of self-awareness for its subjects, while viewers are able to feel intelligent for their comparatively greater insight, courtesy of this intimate view of a deliberately constructed but nevertheless self-proclaimed “reality” that indeed seeks some basis in accentuated realism. For sitcoms, this format notably emphasizes characters who are so aware of themselves and their surroundings that they seem realistic for having a perspective that matches our own, and characters who are so unaware of themselves and their surroundings that their comedic blind spots are hilariously revealed, often creating “cringe” comedy – that is, laughs based on our discomfort at the delta between our perception and theirs, often in socially awkward or unpleasant moments that they’ve created, sometimes even through their awareness of the metatheatre, which does not always extend to an awareness of self… Despite observable elements of the mockumentary style prior to this (on Arrested Development and more explicit genre parodies like Reno 911!), The Office was the U.S.’ most mainstream example of this trend yet, and it’s therefore the show most responsible for its further saturation at the highest levels – not just on Parks and Rec, but also ABC’s Modern Family, a huge hit that kept this a prominent sitcom aesthetic throughout the 2010s and even into the 2020s, where it persists today in fare like Abbott Elementary. Nearly 20 years ago, it was The Office that brought this fairly niche look – mirroring one of the distinct features of the original U.K. series, which had debuted in 2001 as a spoof of the British docudrama craze – into a wider, more traditional context, thereby sanctioning it as a viable option for bigger, more popular shows going forward.

However, all those shows apply the mockumentary conceit differently. The Office does not have Arrested Development’s regular narration or the freewheeling abandon in its storytelling that enables fast cutaways to flashback scenes or quick jokes, let alone graphics like photos or diagrams. And it also isn’t in the raw “found footage” presentation of The Comeback, or conversely, a full show as it would air on TV, like we saw in Earl‘s funny “Our ‘Cops’ Is On!” episode, which had music and interstitials, and all the bells and whistles of a produced program. No, The Office, just like its British counterpart, is simply comprised of well-edited footage shot in the cinema verite style, intercut with individual talking heads, or confessionals, where the characters comment on the action. There isn’t even music, unless it’s diegetic (within the scene itself), or onscreen graphics (outside the credits) – just the captured footage and the inserted interviews. And, of course, it’s all obviously arranged with a mind to a narrative – a focus, like in a documentary or reality show… To that point, although this mostly matches what was done on the U.K. Office, I think there is a stronger influence of American reality TV here, exhibited both by the U.S. Office’s increased use of confessionals and its visual command of the handheld, on-the-fly framing – a sensibility partly established by cinematographer Randall Einhorn, a Survivor alum who helps The Office project a look that’s evocative of the early 2000s reality TV most viewers would have known, positing that cameras are following, not directing, the action, but also telling a story at the same time. We’ve seen a lot of handheld single-camera work before, but when it’s applied like this, with interviews where the characters are clearly speaking to someone out of view, and action shots that sometimes strategically communicate an effort to capture moments the subjects perhaps don’t expect to be filmed – behind doors, through windows, from far away, etc. – we can thus deduce that these characters are aware of the cameras, for they have an obvious relationship with them. And that in turn becomes a premised tenet; the presence of the cameras is part of the series’ situation and thus its storytelling. (It formally enters the narrative in the final season, where the meta becomes explicit.)

This application of the mockumentary form’s meta is unique to The Office. For one, its wink is confined to the idea of the cameras, as there’s otherwise no glossy show biz angle in the premise outside of them. That is, The Office isn’t about entertainment or entertainers, like most meta single cams from this decade, such as Curb, 30 Rock, and The Comeback (the only one of these where cameras are also acknowledged by the leads and thus part of the situation in a mocku way); those shows engage self-referentiality about the industry and/or medium with big-name guest stars who play themselves and spoof their public images. No, there’s none of that here. These are “ordinary” people who only become metatheatrical through their own self-awareness of cameras infiltrating their “normal” world – without a show biz premise and/or the production of a project guiding story (until Season Nine). That’s the purest example of the mockumentary we can find. And it’s actually rare for the sitcom. For instance, the characters on Arrested Development weren’t in show biz, but they also weren’t aware of their cameras, and while this mockumentary conceit was an aspect of the situation stylistically, it wasn’t actually attached to the premise or the leads. Similarly, most of the later sitcoms The Office inspired make their mockumentary framing less central to their situations – Parks and Rec initially references the cameras but they’re not clarified in the premise or relevant to the characters’ behavior for most of the run. And Modern Family basically retains only the talking head device, with barely any suggestion of present cameras beyond the use of “interviews.” Mockumentaries had simply become so comfortable to viewers by 2009, not just from reality TV but from the sitcom genre as well, that an explanation was no longer needed for whether Modern Family’s characters knew they were being filmed. The value of this high concept aesthetic had already shifted away from the actual benefits of “meta” in comedy and story and simply to the intelligence this form’s earlier ambassadors had come to imply. By merely looking and sounding like those smart shows, which were emblematic of the 2000s and how it differed from previous decades, any freshman sitcom was able to seem trendy and “new.” That was the point, right? “Modern” Family.

But that’s the “new.” Let’s talk about the “old.” While The Office has a sexy and very 2000s mockumentary framing as part of its situation, that’s layered on top of something familiar and old-fashioned – an ensemble workplace setup with both a star and a pronounced rom-com engine. That’s really what its stories are going to reflect on a weekly basis, and if it didn’t have the single-cam and deliberately meta lens of 2005 with the “cringe comedy” this sensibility invites, this kind of sitcom would have been right at home on NBC in the 1980s or ’90s, following in the footsteps of Cheers. Its premise is that familiar. And with a workplace where the work itself is immaterial to the situation – the “job” is mostly irrelevant to plot – there are elements of the hangout show as well, as the office merely serves as a place where different people gather. Again, it’s familiar terrain, but perhaps that’s inevitable – even higher concept premises will ideally display low-concept trappings underneath, as the types of relationships characters can have with one another in a regular capacity are limited: family, friends, colleagues, lovers, etc. All 2000s sitcoms are similarly simplistic once you take away their bells and whistles. However, coming in the middle of the ‘00s after a decade of shows on NBC that indeed tried to replicate the rom-com appeal of Friends – former anchor of The Office’s same Thursday lineup – The Office‘s decision to put emphasis in story on the potential romance between a few regulars feels like a direct association, leaving critics, fans, and even cast/crew to compare its central lovebirds, Jim/Pam, to past star-crossed lovers on the same network, such as Ross/Rachel, and Sam/Diane before them. Also, this show’s increasingly earnest, touchy-feely tone, which accelerates with every passing season as it moves away from its drier and colder U.K. origins, is reminiscent of Friends and that whole rom-com subset of hangout sitcoms from the turn of the century. In that regard, The Office may look a bit different and have a “new” comedic sensibility as a result of its chosen framing… but it often sounds, structurally stands, and narratively operates like many things we’ve seen before. And that’s a helpful balance, for these things that are “old” are also reliable – a foundation on which new excellence can build.

Let’s give credit where it’s due. Both these “old” and “new” aspects of The Office’s situation come directly from its U.K. predecessor – which also employed the mockumentary style and set up this central workplace premise, with four key characters who uphold the core relational dynamics, including the main romance. I watched the original British Office for these posts, and I thought about giving that show its own separate entry before opting against it, as I was reminded why it’s just not fair to compare American and British sitcoms: differing expectations regarding longevity create different priorities. U.S. sitcoms produce more episodes, so they need more stories, and because they need more stories, they need situations that can better produce/inspire those stories – and that means, frankly, they have to build out their characters more. This, I think, yields better sitcommery overall, for it strengthens a situation via its regulars, testing it, and their, mettle, while sharpening them in the process. Also, because story and comedy must arise from elements that are already established in some way, familiarity, regularity, and longevity are features that corroborate the sitcom genre’s uniqueness as a form. That’s why, as American TV in the streaming era increasingly adopts a more Brit-like model (fewer episodes and uneven gaps between seasons), the sitcom, in particular, has suffered. But I digress… I watched the U.K. Office for comparison, and basically, all their differences are lifespan-based. And all the qualities that distinguish the American Office from the British Office get enhanced over time due to its longer life, creating its major trends — e.g., as it progresses, the show becomes more emotional and sometimes soapy with its story turns, sillier and bigger-brained with its comic ideas (more often leaving the office and thereby stretching the workplace concept), and more of an ensemble effort overall, relying more on the many funny supporting players below the core four. All this makes sense – it’s the course that so many long-running sitcoms follow: they have to loosen the premise, seek out bigger and broader laughs, and deploy more help from an expanding cast. Those are only bad in the extreme, and for The Office, the calibration of these trends is favorable for a long, long time. (And enhancing the definition of side characters is always good — especially for an ensemble show!)

The American Office’s more palpable sentimentality is the biggest difference between the two, and it touches every aspect of this series, ramping up so much in the back half of the run that the final seasons have no choice but to model Mary Tyler Moore’s teary finale summation that the people you work with can become your family. It’s another platitude that got so common in this genre post-MTM that we almost accept it as an axiom now, and as The Office’s fortunate longevity forces characters who start out as distant and impersonal colleagues to get closer from their ongoing proximity and regular interplay, perhaps there’s motivated logic to the evolution. But this trend also feels like an inevitable consequence of the NBC-approved rom-com aspect of the premise too, which doesn’t just involve Jim and Pam but Michael as well, along with so many others in the ensemble, particularly after Jim and Pam are settled and the show is seeking narrative replacements (like in Dwight/Angela or Andy/Erin). Love triangles and story-driven maneuvers follow with frequency, and Jim and Pam aren’t immune from these tropes either – after initial delays to their union that sometimes stretch credibility, they still get their own bouts of forced drama. Again, longevity makes this impossible to avoid, for the show must consume story, and the U.K. Office just doesn’t have this problem – it can spend two short seasons, or “series,” teasing its lovers’ feelings before uniting them in a post-run Christmas special, without needing any distractions or complications… However, the benefit for the U.S. in drawing out its love story over more episodes is that this also beefs up the duo in importance and makes them even more of a rooting interest for the audience (which in turn enhances the show’s emotional pull, and by proxy, the emotionalism within its entire tone). And, to give the American Office some credit, I think it handles Jim and Pam better than previous sitcoms handled their couples – opting to eschew the on-again/off-again nature of Sam/Diane or the trite annual teases of reconciliation for Ross/Rachel. Once Jim and Pam are together, they’re together. That’s not only more realistic and thus helpful for their own depictions, it also enables others in the ensemble to blossom with the freed-up screen time, which is another vital trend for this series’ longevity.

But it isn’t just romance that makes the American Office more sentimentally pitched. The characters are, frankly, nicer and friendlier en masse – a deliberate repositioning that we can see occur during the first two seasons, particularly with Michael Scott. He evolves away from Ricky Gervais’ coarser David Brent into a notably different entity — someone whose vulnerabilities are more obvious and whose basic human decency tempers his egotistical childish buffoonery, excusing his major blind spots. He’s likable. It’s the biggest example of the U.S. version breaking from its predecessor, and to put my spin on a frequent comparison, I’d say David Brent wants others to love him, but Michael Scott wants to actually be loved. That sets him up as a more sympathetic, and, ultimately, better person, because he in turn loves others — a huge distinction that allows for a kinder, more congenial boss and a kinder, more congenial tone. This tweak also addresses the difference between U.S. and U.K. attitudes – the U.S. appreciates a more emotional approach, with bigger expressions of feeling — and, again, with the U.S.’ demand for more stories, it needed a more accessible, dimensional lead who could offer moments of both humor and heart so he could help inspire ideas that would develop him further… and thus keep this generative cycle ongoing. Now, like everything, Michael’s emotionalism maybe becomes too extreme by the end (more later), but it’s something that the show starts instilling in him at the top of Season Two, knowing that he’d need some heart for the show to have any legs. And that’s the correct impulse, for as its primary comic agitator, his optimal utilization is crucial — especially given the structure of this low-concept workplace premise, where the boss serves as the office’s main source of conflict and the principal perpetrator of the cringe comedy most indicative of its high-concept mockumentary framing. He’s the figure around whom the entire situation is built, and Michael Scott, as played by Steve Carell (who helped swing the role closer to his own natural persona), delivers on these promises brilliantly – making for an iconically recognizable but nuanced comic presence on par with Archie Bunker or Lucy Ricardo, the sitcom character of their decades, defining an era-defining sitcom so dominantly that they themselves enter the popular lexicon too, becoming synonymous with their shows.

In fact, it’s almost universally accepted now that Michael’s exit is the end of The Office as a great sitcom, for the show was designed around the comedy he could engender, and it never effectively replaces him. I’ll share many thoughts on the series’ trajectory in the weeks ahead, but I want to say now that, although the first few seasons are still adjusting to their new sensibilities and refining the core characters, and some other trends will also appear more favorably in the future (when more of the ensemble members are functional), this is a sitcom that’s ultimately better early on – specifically, I think Season Two is its finest… All I’ll say about this now is that I believe The Office has a fundamentally idea-driven construction, for its mockumentary format is a key aspect of the situation that’s inherently fresher when new, especially because it’s best revealed in the cringe comedy offered most often by Michael (and Dwight). And as the show becomes more sentimental, once Jim/Pam marry and there’s a reverent season-long farewell to Steve Carell, cringe comedy gets squeezed out in favor of more earnest, touchy-feely fare – for these characters are becoming too familiar with each other to still make each other uncomfortable. This means the high-concept aspect of the premise becomes less playably evident. (Additionally, the rom-com storytelling in the low-concept workplace part of the premise is never more potent than when new – when the guy is pining for the gal; that’s when we’re rooting the hardest for them.) So, even though there’s a real learning curve with the series’ tone and its characters at first, the basic idea-driven nature of The Office means that its intersection of novelty and knowingness occurs earlier than in other purely low-concept ensemble workplace comedies. Perhaps that’s no surprise – this is based on a British series that only needed short-term excellence. However, the U.S. Office is able to be so good for such a long period of time – well beyond Season Two — because of the strength of its character work. Not only is Michael Scott an iconic figure, but Dwight Schrute — succinctly defined as a “fascist nerd” by Rainn Wilson — is the series’ second-best comic force and another richly defined lead who brings so much both comedically and narratively, improving upon his British basis in spades, and with a precise, detail-rich characterization that contributes a lot to The Office’s appeal.

Michael and Dwight are obviously the show’s primary haha drivers, especially in the first few seasons when, following the U.K.’s setup, there’s a core four at the head of a large peripheral ensemble. The other two, Jim and Pam, are not as comedically distinct – and given this show’s workplace-confined premise, there’s a certain ambiguity or narrowness to every character initially, for we don’t go home with them and learn a ton of immediate details about their personal lives. And yet, the “straight man” lovers at the top feel well-realized almost from the start, for they’re a healthy counterbalance to the two kooks and seem so realistic, thanks to this low-concept construction and the mockumentary form’s implied literal realism (where their naturalism as slightly uncomfortable subjects being watched corroborates this premise). Also, the show is excellent at quickly defining specific relationships — Jim/Pam, Jim/Dwight, Michael/Dwight, Michael/Pam, etc. – and because their bonds are individualized almost immediately, it feels like they’re always helping support plot. Their strong usage is a testament to showrunner Greg Daniels, who had a history of writing both idea-driven fare like SNL and The Simpsons, along with more low-concept character-based stuff such as King Of The Hill, which gave him exactly the right experience to moderate this smart concoction. Daniels ensures that, as we get to know these leads beyond their basic attitudes and relationships, they continue to become more able to provide humor and story, supporting episodic notions throughout the series’ duration. For Season One, that means, of course, there’s much better character work ahead – not to mention a more properly calibrated tone, away from the U.K.’s cold discomfort and more towards the warm silliness that the U.S. version will inevitably embrace. But I’m more “up” on One than critics were in 2005, for I don’t regard the U.K. Office as a high benchmark the U.S. version fails. I know the U.S. show must differ in big ways, and with the U.K.’s construction nevertheless offering a smart foundation, it also begins in pretty good shape. Again, there’ll be major adjustments ahead. But the relationships are basically there, the mockumentary format is at its most exciting, and the laughs are already big, so The Office is poised to be a great show – and I’m thrilled to finally begin my coverage of the seminal sitcom from the transitional 2000s.

 

01) Episode 2: “Diversity Day” (Aired: 03/29/05)

Michael forces his staff into a diversity seminar.

Written by B.J. Novak | Directed by Ken Kwapis

“Diversity Day” is the best episode from The Office’s brief first season because it’s not only the funniest option, best evidencing the cringe comedy that’s inherent to the series’ situation as a result of its mockumentary format, enabled by its prime perpetrator — Michael Scott — it’s also our first indication of the show trying to move beyond its U.K. origins for a story that deals specifically with American mores and taboos, previewing the kind of tweaks that will be necessary in the near future to evolve its comic sensibility, especially after a pilot that earned jeers for being an unimaginative remake of the British premiere. Here, with a plot about Michael triggering a sensitivity seminar after an offensive imitation of a Chris Rock routine, The Office offers its first original attempt to have its principal character play to the premise, and more precisely, to earn the situation-corroborating awkward humor that arises from his unknowing affront to workplace norms and social cues, suggesting a lack of self-awareness that the cameras both reveal and, because he’s also performing for them, exacerbate. This is an explicit reminder of the visual high concept and therefore a terrific display of the situation, and while the idea is still stemming from a version of Michael Scott that’s closer to David Brent (he could do a story like this) and thus not as refined as his enhanced vulnerability will allow him to become in Season Two, some of the childlike naiveté exhibited here keeps him from being as much of a jerk as Brent, and again, that’s a character-based step in the right direction, with a social understanding that’s uniquely American. Also, the audaciousness of the logline speaks to the comic bigness of the U.S. Office in comparison to its predecessor — although, after this, all the characters will grow to become even more helpful, and the overall tone will radically change, so stories won’t have to stay so dependent on the notion of Michael being offensive to earn their cringe, rendering this a memorable but rudimentary sample of this great sitcom.

02) Episode 4: “The Alliance” (Aired: 04/12/05)

Dwight forms an “alliance” with Jim amidst news of downsizing.

Written by Michael Schur | Directed by Bryan Gordon

This is a key character-building excursion for Dwight, as his rapport with Jim — one of the series’ main relationships — gets explored in a fresh, unique story that’s tied to both this season’s overarching “downsizing” narrative threat and, connotationally, the premised mockumentary format. Specifically, Dwight’s insistence on forming an “alliance” with Jim, with direct references to Survivor — the most important reality show of the early 2000s for popularizing the genre (with a real influence on The Office via Randall Einhorn) — provides not just comical insight into his cartoonishly intense and therefore benign psyche, but also an appropriate thematic connection that reminds us of The Office’s modernity inside its mid-’00s TV landscape, sharing in the “meta” of the reality subgenre that exists within its very bones. There’s also some building stuff here for Jim and Pam, who grow closer through their shared love of messing with Dwight, and even for Michael, whose efforts to boost morale signal his sympathetic desire for others’ love that will soon become the guiding reason for everything he does. So, this is a formative first season highlight. (Of note, this is the first script credited to Michael Schur, later of Parks And Rec, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and The Good Place.)

 

Other notable episodes that merit mention include: “Basketball,” a jokey entry where Michael is very much a jerk, and without the necessary dimensionality that would have existed had this been written in, say, Season Two, and “Health Care,” an early but formative installment that’s still feeling things out with both the Michael and Dwight characterizations.

 

*** The MVE Award for the Best Episode from Season One of The Office goes to…

“Diversity Day”

 

 

Come back next week for my thoughts on Season Two!