Welcome to a new Sitcom Tuesday, on a Wednesday! This week, we’re officially back in the 2000s as I’m beginning my coverage on the best of 30 Rock (2006-2013, NBC), which is currently available, as of this writing, on DVD and (with few exceptions) streaming.

30 Rock stars TINA FEY as Liz Lemon, TRACY MORGAN as Tracy Jordan, JANE KRAKOWSKI as Jenna Maroney, JACK McBRAYER as Kenneth Parcell, and ALEC BALDWIN as Jack Donaghy. With SCOTT ADSIT and JUDAH FRIEDLANDER.

We’re settling back into the 2000s with 30 Rock, another one of that decade’s finest samples and a worthy companion to The Office, which also occupied a long-time berth on NBC’s Thursday night sitcom lineup that both shows helped resurrect. Like The Office, 30 Rock is great because it’s got the right mix of the “old” and the “new” — offering a compelling blend of traditional, even clichéd sitcom constructs with a sexy stylistic modernity. No, that modernity isn’t in the form of an omnipresent mockumentary framing as on The Office, but via a similarly metatheatrical “wink” resulting from both a showbiz premise and explicit creative ties to Saturday Night Live and the topical, satirical, exaggerated humor associated with that classic sketch comedy series. These SNL ties stem from 30 Rock’s creator and star Tina Fey, who had spent nearly a decade as a writer and eventually major player on that late-night institution, the only dominant remnant of the comedy-variety genre that had once been so ubiquitous in primetime television during the 1950s-1970s as a parallel to the situation comedy (which, going back to radio, actually owed part of its own identity to the comedy-variety form; you can read more about that in my book). With Fey’s sketch-comedy sensibilities guiding its scripting and performance, 30 Rock – its single-cam setup aside (a common choice for “backstagers” that was also now de rigueur for a sitcom seeking critical respect amidst the multi-cam’s dwindling cachet in the late 2000s) — would indeed often come to look and sound like SNL. Such comparisons were not merely unavoidable, they were intentional, enabled by a premise set behind the scenes of a comedy-variety show produced in NBC’s famous 30 Rockefeller Plaza building, where Fey’s character Liz Lemon worked as her program’s head writer. In other words, this was semi-autobiographical – Fey cast herself as the scribe of a sketch show called TGS, obviously modeled on the sketch show for which she had truly written. Most of the audience knew that fact, and 30 Rock, produced by SNL overlord Lorne Michael’s company, naturally situated its very identity on this affiliation with sketch comedy, and Saturday Night Live’s sketch comedy, in particular.

Now, again, this connection between situation comedy and the sketch comedy on variety shows goes back to the origins of the sitcom as a genre. Not only did the sitcom, in part, come from comedy-variety, but sketches on comedy-variety shows had even popped out into their own sitcoms – the most notable being The Honeymooners, which is also one of the foundational examples of idea-driven sitcommery. That is, because sketch comedy is inherently idea-driven – it’s not about exploring characters, but about exploring funny ideas – even recurring sketches that got fleshed out into their own shows tend to evidence a level of character development via its minimized focus within story that reveals a contrasting emphasis, making plain both the distinction between character-driven and idea-driven attitudes inside the situation comedy genre, along with the natural affiliation between idea-driven sitcoms and the interests of sketch comedy. Accordingly, sketch comedy has been kin to the sitcom throughout their mutual existence – many great writers had experience in both (including Carl Reiner, who crafted his own semi-autobiographical sitcom in the 1960s about his time writing for Sid Caesar). And even in the 1970s when comedy-variety shows were fading from primetime prominence, scribes who came from that world, like Norman Lear, kept similar idea-based priorities present in sitcoms (in Lear’s case, through a political topicality that, prior to All In The Family, had been more at home in sketch comedy – think: Smothers Brothers and Laugh-In – than the innately more character-based situation comedy). As for Saturday Night Live, when it premiered in 1975, the comedy-variety show was on its way out – its sensibilities pushed to the fringes of late-night talk and similarly less primetime fare. Although those early years of SNL are today revered, it’s really been the show’s surprising durability that’s earned it an influence within our pop culture.

Its unique influence first shows up in sitcoms during the late 1980s when writers like Alan Zweibel and Larry David started to bring idea-driven sensibilities cultivated on SNL (and its few derivatives) into fare such as It’s Garry Shandling’s Show and eventually Seinfeld, right as more stand-up comics also began anchoring their own half-hour comedies, transferring their looser late-night energies into the framework of more familiar narrative constructs. During the late ’80s, the only other major American sketch comedy was The Tracy Ullman Show, which descended from the MTM camp and beget a resurrection in primetime animated sitcoms via the popped-out The Simpsons, a meta media parody in the vein of Married… With Children. Throughout the 1990s, more comedy-variety shows, with an emphasis on sketch comedy, bloomed as a result of this widening media landscape (and meta media parodies increased: see The Larry Sanders Show), and while the sitcom itself remained basically locked into a more traditional understanding of itself, idea-driven sensibilities were felt, as talent from variety shows, including SNL (with its growing roster of alums), more frequently worked on sitcoms. However, the early 2000s is when the two really started to cross, as the late 1990s’ sitcom hits were showing their age and great replacements didn’t seem forthcoming, forcing the genre to open itself up to a broader, and therefore more idea-driven attitude, embracing (among other things) different comedic rhythms, enhanced forms of metatheatricality, and subversions in visual form that included, at the very least, a single-camera setup, but often hooks more precise than that – like the mockumentary framing we saw in Arrested Development and The Office. Of course, such idea-driven constructs were themselves conceptual gags, akin to the logline of a sketch – i.e., exploring the comedic lens of a faux documentary as much as the characters in it. And for The Office, in particular, its SNL ties were strong; that show was helmed and run by Greg Daniels, a bona fide SNL vet — providing one of the most notable examples of both the renewed sketch-based influence in mainstream network sitcoms, along with the growing reach of Saturday Night Live, specifically.

This growing reach had never been felt as strongly than in the 2006 debut of 30 Rock, which played upon Tina Fey’s public pedigree and her accordingly cultivated comic ideals for a direct link to SNL, purposely situating itself with a semi-autobiographical premise as an explicit allusion. These bonds made clear that this is a sitcom with sketch comedy ties – namely, roots in Saturday Night Live, which had now become the mainstream torchbearer of the sitcom’s parallel comedy-variety track. And by being such a success, with critics and sitcom devotees especially, 30 Rock formally confirmed this association, rendering Saturday Night Live more relevant than ever as a key DNA strand in not only one of the best sitcoms on TV, but in all the forthcoming shows that would involve other SNL alums and/or look to emulate 30 Rock’s success by adopting some of its shared traits. To that point, with streaming in the 2010s veering the entire medium towards a more dramatic bent, one of the tonics for some sitcoms has been this maintained affiliation with the jokiness of SNL, for many of the funniest shows of the past 20 years have unsurprisingly involved talent with a connection to the only remaining sketch comedy of popular, high-visibility note. Now, that’s not to say SNL itself is reliable as a stylistic institution – heck, sketch comedy is innately hit-and-miss, and much less consistent than situation comedy, which banks on a strong situation (premise/characters) for a sturdy continuity that also acts as a supportive safety net to every episodic idea, however well-conceived. It’s simply that the pursuit of comedy is a noble ambition in sitcoms as well, and for 30 Rock, this carried-over goal from Fey’s time on SNL (and Second City before it) indeed serves as an elevating factor, with the show’s sense of humor becoming one of its calling cards – a marker of identity that distinguishes it from its competition and, for us, proves vital in creating an attribute that helps us determine when the show is being the best version of itself possible.

In other words, situation-satisfaction for 30 Rock will involve its ability to exhibit the unique comic sensibilities that come from its explicit SNL ties. As we’ll see below, it took time for the series to fully embrace the wild and woolly attitudes that best emphasize this necessary aesthetic linkup. But its fundamental SNL credentials were key to its success right from the start – especially for a media eager to compare it to another high-profile new show also about the behind-the-scenes of a network comedy-variety program modeled on SNL. I’m referring to Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip, an hour-long drama created by Aaron Sorkin that only lasted one season. With hindsight, it all seems ridiculous. Not only does Sorkin’s effort lack the autobiographical truth of Fey’s experience-based situation for 30 Rock, but Sorkin himself isn’t comedic (I find him to be condescending about the craft), and any roman à clef about SNL is naturally going to feel more potent if it’s able to match its subject’s style as well – and that means, first and foremost, being funny as a matter of purpose. In that regard, 30 Rock is much more successfully a representation of SNL than Studio 60 could ever be — a clear marker of superiority for two shows both implying affiliations to it. And even though Studio 60 outmatched 30 Rock in the ratings (it had bigger stars in a less competitive timeslot), critical appraisals of the two in direct contrast both then and now recognize the difference in credibility that bears out in their narrative operations… But I digress; as for SNL’s style, I must admit, surprisingly, I’ve never been a big fan, for I’m simply not crazy about comedy-variety as a genre unto itself. As you know, I prefer the sitcom – I love the iterative form of storytelling required for a situation that must be comedically satisfied every week via a similar but simultaneously fresh narrative. It’s a special art form with a rare brand of excellence that’s difficult but not impossible to ensure, demanding a well-designed and well-reinforced situation (this genre’s most unique attribute, which sketch comedy doesn’t have to consider). That said, I do love 30 Rock, and I love it best when it reflects SNL — a seminal aspect of its identity that’s also embedded within its premise — for that’s what it must offer on its own terms as a situation comedy.

This reflection, I reiterate, was fresh for sitcoms in 2006 – we’d never seen SNL in this genre so meaningfully, ordained by a premise and maintained so well by an ambassador as perfect for this job as Tina Fey. And although these ties are rooted in the sitcom’s own history (as a partial descendant of the comedy-variety genre from which SNL also hails), it’s ultimately sexy and new – an original situation comedy about SNL written in an adjacent style, consequently venerating SNL as a comedic tradition in its own right, while also granting the genre a boost of energy via this freedom to expand and explore like an idea-driven sketch comedy, permitted by a situation that enables and even asks for it. To that point, 30 Rock’s excellence is a credit to Fey’s designed situation in total — and particularly the more traditional, familiar aspects of the premise that are contrastingly paired with this “new” sketch comedy ethos, for they are what grant 30 Rock the stable continuity needed for tethering its wilder ideas and SNL-like leanings. That is, Fey’s 30 Rock is textbook: an ensemble workplace comedy set behind the scenes of a TV show – show biz about show biz, or more broadly, media about media – something that’s long been a staple of this genre. Such subjects have fueled the sitcom since it was developing out of comedy-variety shows on radio, orienting in the semi-autobiographical situations seen in classics like I Love Lucy, The Danny Thomas Show, and eventually The Dick Van Dyke Show, which, again, was also about the head writer of a comedy-variety program. However, Van Dyke’s series was split between the workplace and the home; 30 Rock opts to be set more exclusively in the workplace, closer to the post-Rhoda/Phyllis seasons of Dick Van Dyke’s little sister, The Mary Tyler Moore Show. In fact, it’s Mary Tyler Moore – ground zero for the character-driven MTM style of sitcom that progressed throughout the next few decades in Taxi, Cheers, Frasier, etc. – that most feels invoked here in the stable, reliable guardrails of 30 Rock’s situation.

Quite a few critics have written about this before, and I don’t want to dwell on comparisons that are almost too elemental to be specific. But the shared design is impossible to ignore. Not only are 30 Rock and Mary Tyler Moore both sitcoms about single women in television (Mary in local news; Liz in network comedy-variety), the main characters have clear analogues. For instance, the mentor/mentee relationship that develops between the initially opposed Liz Lemon and her boss Jack Donaghy (Alec Baldwin) mirrors the caring but professional rapport between Mary and her boss Lou Grant, while Liz’s efforts to deal on a regular weekly basis with wacky and self-obsessed, sometimes absurd on-air talent – here, Tracy Jordan (Tracy Morgan) and Jenna Maroney (Jane Krakowski) – feel in the spirit of Mary’s struggles with Ted Baxter and Sue Ann Nivens. From there, you can map the wide-eyed Kenneth (Jack McBrayer) as the soft-spoken, naïve Georgette and perhaps even look to the other key writers (Frank and Pete) as versions of Mary’s sarcastic cohort Murray. As for Liz, she’s not merely Mary’s people-pleasing Everywoman, she’s also the plucky underdog Rhoda, and even the delusionally quirky Phyllis – an amalgam of well-defined female characters that deliberately acknowledges the genre’s own evolution in the depiction of working women, like the girlish That Girl from whom the independent Mary Richards first marked an evolution, to the prickly Murphy Brown, another TV journalist whose series also used MTM’s format to explicitly evolve and complicate the depiction of its leading lady. Liz Lemon is the Tina Fey version of Mary – goofier and more flawed, with even more idea-led eccentricities (a collection of SNL-like gags) but still someone for whom the audience can root on an elemental basis. And with this character situated in a TV-about-TV premise that also boasts familiar character types and similar relationships, The Mary Tyler Moore Show is a recognizable template that 30 Rock seemingly matches.

The result is exactly what it was on Mary Tyler Moore – reliability. These characters are easily pinpointable with clear interworkings that yield big hahas and guarantee a certain amount of textbook, albeit routine, stories. It’s a template for a reason – it supports situation comedy — and it’s to Fey’s basic smarts that she built 30 Rock with indisputably solid bones. Oh, yes, the show takes some time during Season One to refine its leads and how they interact – but that’s because it has to decide to drop some of their rigidly premised dynamics (Liz vs. Jack, Jenna vs. Tracy) and embrace the more MTM-ian low-concept format of jocular colleagues. In essence, when it’s more casual about its design, things settle into place and the show can focus instead on what it really wants to spotlight: its big comic ideas, which better reflect the SNL sensibility also constituting a huge part of its situation, balancing the old, and somewhat clichéd, with the fresh and the new. To that point, I need to make plain that it’s this combination of an MTM structure with an SNL ethos that makes 30 Rock a treat. If it was all SNL humor, without the MTM foundation of identifiable characters and their bonds within story, 30 Rock would not be a great situation comedy. It would be hit-and-miss like a sketch show, lacking the continuity of a strong situation as a narrative guarantor. And with Mary Tyler Moore’s form but no sense of SNL’s bolder comedic imagination, we’d be looking at another mediocre workplace comedy from the turn of the century that cribbed from MTM (see: Suddenly Susan or Less Than Perfect). No, 30 Rock is an MTM cake with SNL icing (and layers therein). When the series is less bold with its storytelling and a bit too traditional as a workplace sitcom, missing a more specific and thus personalized SNL bite, it is not the tastiest version of itself. A cake without icing. Similarly, when 30 Rock is too much like a post-Friends NBC clone – zeroing in on predictable rom-com maneuvers for arcs that generate easy plot points – the show can feel narratively generic: a store-bought cake (if you will) that no amount of SNL’s special sense of comic abandon (“icing”) can make taste truly fresh and homemade. Okay, okay, metaphors aside…

30 Rock is best when it’s simply and fully itself: an ensemble workplace sitcom behind-the-scenes of something like SNL, with a boldly comic tone that reflects that setting’s unique implications. Now, that’s not to say I don’t appreciate the series’ efforts to evolve its leads and to vary its plotting with arcs that give them something familiar to pursue, like romance. It’s all, as always, merely dependent on how well the show ties these ideas to elements of the situation – to the individual characters and how they exist in the premise. And, as usual, since some characters are better defined than others, some are more conducive to making stories interesting (while also bringing series-validating laughs in the SNL vein). We’ll evaluate the storytelling week by week. As for the characters, all five mains are comedically clear by the end of Season One, with the Liz/Jack relationship recognized as the series’ emotional core by the year’s midpoint and structurally treated as such for the remainder of the run. It’s great – a human foundation for ensuing lunacy. Also, Tracy Morgan (another SNL star) and Jane Krakowski are hysterical; together with Fey and Baldwin, they make up the most hilarious sitcom foursome since Will & Grace. Their instincts paired with delicious characterizations, filled out by mountingly funny details from a writers room led by two of SNL’s funniest minds, is the bedrock of the show – anchoring the sketch-like cutaways, metatheatrical gags, and fast (often topical) joke-writing in a way that guarantees a baseline quality and helps keep this sitcom… well, a sitcom. Okay, I suppose I am less enthused with the fifth lead, Kenneth, finding him comedically distinct but seldom conducive to story that expands him beyond jokes. That’s been a common critique of the show over the years — it prizes “jokes over character.” But personally, I think the other four leads are well explored with a balance of humor and humanity (however off-beat), proving that 30 Rock’s gag-focused, sketch-like slant isn’t totally preclusive to the kind of character work expected of the sitcom genre. It’s just, like sketch comedy, not consistent.

Overall though, 30 Rock situates a classic sitcom template in a world that justifies imaginative sketch-like writing, benefiting from the comedic strengths of the comedy-variety genre and its go-for-broke attitudes, but with the support of a guaranteed-to-work premise, and strong characters, providing continuity and ultimately reliability. The result is a sitcom – a sitcom! — that’s often great, particularly in the context of the late 2000s and early 2010s. Yes, the first year takes a moment to embrace its madcap SNL spirit, and in general, the latter half of the run is more evocative of SNL than the beginning, despite, of course, the situation itself naturally being fresher earlier on, thereby creating the inevitable conundrum that most sitcoms experience where premise novelty is dwindling but its own self-understanding is rising. As expected, the most perfect intersection of those trends occurs around Seasons Two and Three (with my favorite being Two), but I actually don’t think the show declines a lot thereafter either; there are outstanding episodes in Five and beyond, and the show has a respectable, well-laid conclusion in its perfectly paced final year. For with reliable characters and a font of comedic ideas from a mix of funny sitcom writers led by a few SNL masters, 30 Rock is a delight throughout its run. And its strong sitcom bones never waver – especially with a cast like this, upholding big ideas for big characters who exist in, and enable, a situation that earns its hilarity. So, I love 30 Rock and am thrilled to be covering it for you. Alongside The Office, Arrested Development, and Curb Your Enthusiasm, it’s a staple of the 2000s — one of the best sitcoms of that decade, and any decade quite frankly, paying tribute to this genre’s sense of tradition but in ways that were new and exciting… That brings us to this list. As usual, I’m looking to the samples that best reflect the show’s situation in total – which is still being formed and refined here in its good (compared to other sitcoms) but not great (compared to 30 Rock’s own standards) debut season.

 

01) Episode 5: “Jack-Tor” (Aired: 11/16/06)

Liz enlists Jack to appear as himself in a sketch on the show.

Written by Robert Carlock | Directed by Don Scardino

The first season of 30 Rock, although the most novel due to sheer newness, is actually one of the show’s less perfect collections overall, for it takes a while for the series to gradually step into the identity that most separates it from its competition. Specifically, it takes a beat for the writing to commit to a broader, idea-driven style of comedic storytelling that reflects the show’s obvious SNL roots. Additionally, the characters need time to refine into their basic forms. This early episode is a step forward on every metric — it’s the first segment to feel like it comes from the world of SNL, with plenty of bold gags and an inherently parodic sense of media satire that isn’t just amusing, but also involves the central Liz/Jack relationship, which is slowly settling into the friendly mentor/mentee bond that will come to anchor the series’ situation and support lots of forthcoming comic lunacy. Similarly, this entry also starts to get the hang of the Jenna and Tracy characters, who both have laugh-out-loud moments, rendering this a progressive half hour and, on Season One’s terms, one of its funniest. (Look for Donald Glover in a small role.)

02) Episode 7: “Tracy Does Conan” (Aired: 12/07/06)

Tracy is scheduled to appear on Conan O’Brien’s show but he’s off his medication.

Written by Tina Fey | Directed by Adam Bernstein

This one-of-a-kind outing continues to evidence 30 Rock’s slow realization about its natural capabilities to satirize the media landscape at large — not just mocking SNL as a show, but offering the type of cultural parodies that exist there and are central to sketch comedy en masse. And with an inherently metatheatrical backstage premise, there are also many opportunities on 30 Rock for celebrities to play versions of themselves — a very popular phenomenon in the post-Larry Sanders, post-Curb landscape. Here, a real late-night talk show — Conan O’Brien’s — is used to help instill comic stakes relating to Tracy’s public appearance on it, for Tracy, ever unpredictable, is especially unpredictable now that he’s off his meds. It’s a comic setup that allows for some madcap outrageousness, the kind for which this series will increasingly become known, enabled by its situation’s stylistic associations and supported, as here, by its characters. So, this is another early sample that starts to encapsulate the series and its unique charms. (Note: Chris Parnell makes his debut as Dr. Spaceman, and a young Aubrey Plaza appears.)

03) Episode 10: “The Rural Juror” (Aired: 01/11/07)

Liz’s opinion of Jenna’s new movie creates a rift in their friendship.

Written by Matt Hubbard | Directed by Beth McCarthy

30 Rock is maybe the jokiest sitcom of the 2000s (rivaled only by Arrested Development) — it has a high number of laughs-per-minute, with many memorable gags that have retained cultural resonance in the social media era, sticking because they skewer TV and our media landscape at large. This installment notably introduces one of those iconic 30 Rock lampoons in the form of “The Rural Juror,” Jenna’s amusingly titled film that, naturally, sucks, enabling an appearance by SNL vet Rachel Dratch (the original choice for Jenna who recurs throughout Season One in a variety of comic bit parts) for a sketch-like exchange where she plays Barbara Walters. Indeed, sending up media tropes like this, with someone playing a celebrity, is very SNL — a bold and parodic sensibility that’s echoed in this entry’s subplot involving Jack, Tracy, and the Meat Machine product. Meanwhile, the episode also balances its big comic ideas with a story about Liz and Jenna’s friendship — a bond that’s still treated more earnestly than it’ll become later on, but, hey, some situational weight is appreciated, especially as the season continues to refine its understanding of Jenna as a character. (Whoopi Goldberg appears as herself.)

04) Episode 11: “The Head And The Hair” (Aired: 01/18/07)

Liz finds herself going out with a conventionally attractive guy while Jack works for Kenneth.

Written by Tina Fey & John Riggi | Directed by Gail Mancuso

It becomes apparent in the first half of this debut season that Liz Lemon’s chaotic romantic life will be a focus for the series and a primary barometer to explore her growth as a character. That is, 30 Rock is yet another NBC rom-com from the 2000s wherein its leading characters’ happy endings will involve successful romantic pairings. That can tend to be clichéd and formulaic when arcs are involved, but 30 Rock is so young at this point that it can still have fun with dating stories that don’t have implications beyond the half hour — as here, when Liz is out of her element with someone conventionally attractive (nicknamed “The Hair”). It’s a very Mary Richards-coded idea… only with an evolved 21st century character who is as much a tries-to-be-perfect Mary as she is a Rhoda and a Phyllis — a sarcastic underdog and a delusional menace. This reversal of Liz’s norm is thematically applied in the subplot as well, as Jack works for Kenneth for a change, and Kenneth pitches a new series to the execs — an opportunity for more TV satire that 30 Rock does best, in accordance with its sketch-like SNL-rooted identity.

05) Episode 12: “Black Tie” (Aired: 02/01/07)

Liz pretends to be Jack’s date in front of his ex-wife at a fancy function.

Written by Kay Cannon & Tina Fey | Directed by Don Scardino

My choice for this year’s Most Valuable Episode (MVE), “Black Tie” is the point in the first season of 30 Rock where the show feels like it fully knows what it is. For one, it locks into a dynamic between Jack and Liz that formally centralizes their growing friendship as the situation’s emotional core — but in a uniquely platonic way that eschews both earnestly teased romantic tension and regular dramatic conflict within their positional roles of boss and employee, which is now no longer a matter of premised necessity. With all this established, the show can now become even better about using their specific characters, and their specific rapport, tethering increasingly broad comic ideas to clearer emotional stakes rooted in this stable arrangement. Speaking of broad comic ideas, this entry is also the first time the series takes a leap with its storytelling — bringing the main characters to the birthday party of a European royal (played hilariously by a well-cast Paul Reubens), a severely ill and inbred prince whom Jenna hopes to charm. Now, although that’s a setup that makes some sense based on what we already know of Jenna’s character, it’s really the outrageous, bold idea itself driving the laughs here, having little to do with the “behind the-scenes of SNL” premise. And yet, that’s the point — it works because it’s total idea-driven madness, looking and sounding like an SNL sketch (with accordant laughs of satirical absurdity). This connection ultimately supports 30 Rock’s situation on an elemental level, reminding us of the sense of humor that truly makes it a special sitcom. Indeed, with all that, plus great development for the show’s anchors, Liz and Jack — as the latter runs into his ex-wife, played by Isabella Rossellini — this ends up being a half hour only 30 Rock could offer. And in that regard, there’s no better sample of the series in its formative first season. (Also of note: Will Forte guests — several years before he debuts as Paul.)

06) Episode 13: “Up All Night” (Aired: 02/08/07)

Jack struggles to move on from his ex-wife as the staff pulls an all-nighter on Valentine’s Day.

Written by Tina Fey | Directed by Michael Engler

Isabella Rossellini appears again as Jack’s ex-wife in this Valentine’s Day-themed outing that does a fine job exploring several of the main characters, all while boasting many hilarious moments that evidence 30 Rock’s growing boldness and willingness to take risks. In addition to the terrific scenes between Rossellini and Baldwin, who are perfectly matched as seemingly self-serious people with touches of quirk and crazy that combustibly shine through, Jack’s ensuing drunken mania is fun as well, as he picks up a hooker (played with delectable SNL-like relish by Rachel Dratch as the series’ repertory kook here in Season One) and interrupts Tracy’s steamy date with his wife (played by the hilarious Sherri Shepherd, marking her first appearance in this role that also helps flesh out Tracy’s character beyond the confines of the workplace premise). Also, it’s fun to see Liz come to Jack’s aid for a change — usually it’s the other way around — so the show is already becoming confident enough in its situation to play to it by playing against it, and that’s a testament to just how much the pieces of its proverbial puzzle are settling into place.

07) Episode 15: “Hard Ball” (Aired: 02/22/07)

Jenna tries to rectify a controversial misquote in the media.

Written by Matt Hubbard | Directed by Don Scardino

Jenna’s character has been the hardest lead for 30 Rock to crack so far, largely because it seemed reluctant to make her as off-the-wall bonkers as Tracy, committed instead to the idea that she’s merely Liz’s prettier, more glamorous friend. But by accepting the fact that Jenna must be just as delusional (particularly about herself), and just as much of a comedically absurd problem-causer as Tracy to the perennially harried problem-solver that Liz Lemon must be as showrunner of the fictional TGS show, 30 Rock is then able to embrace a bolder style of comedy overall, one that better reflects its SNL ties (which is situation-validating) and also showcases the divine Jane Krakowski as the clown she so naturally desires to be. I note all that because this episode is the first that truly commits to the notion that Jenna is a problem child, and with plenty of media-on-media satire as Jenna finds herself (and the show, by proxy) increasingly addled by controversial statements that she doesn’t mean to publicly make, the synergy between the series’ SNL sensibilities and the tangible elements of its situation — its characters — blossoms in a way heretofore unseen. (Incidentally, this was the submission that earned 30 Rock its first Emmy nod as Outstanding Comedy Series, which it then won. Its first of three in the category.)

08) Episode 18: “Fireworks” (Aired: 04/05/07)

Liz pretends to be a fellow alcoholic to get closer to her crush.

Written by Dave Finkel & Brett Baer | Directed by Beth McCarthy

As is often the case with these network rom-coms, not all temporary love interests are created equal, and Liz certainly has some partners who are better defined, and thus more conducive to laughs and story, than others. Her romance at the end of Season One — with Floyd, played by SNL’s own Jason Sudeikis — is on the milder end, because he himself is a mild, simple character. However, his elemental lack of comic tension does provide an opportunity for Liz to seem especially chaotic in contrast, and that’s on full display in this hilarious half hour in which she pretends to be a recovering alcoholic (like he is) to bond and learn more about him. That’s a wonderfully rotten scheme — Mary Richards would never! — and it’s a great idea for her character that adds some needed big yuks to otherwise more formulaic rom-com dating fare. Meanwhile, this outing also ratchets up the hilarity via its introduction of Devon Banks (played by Arrested Development’s Will Arnett) — Jack’s rival, whom Jack attempts to distract with the help of Kenneth, on whom Devon has a crush. It all culminates in a bold centerpiece that also has thematic ties to the subplot where Tracy learns he’s a descendant of Thomas Jefferson — and primarily white himself, a notion that also invites lots of hahas. So, on the humor front alone, this one’s tops — a sample that proves 30 Rock’s unique comedic excellence.

09) Episode 20: “Cleveland” (Aired: 04/19/07)

Liz comes to dislike Jack’s new fiancée; Floyd considers a move to Cleveland.

Written by Jack Burditt & Robert Carlock | Directed by Paul Feig

With Floyd and Liz not having any problems aside from her elemental dysfunction, the show has to be more practical about ending their relationship — opting to have him move out of New York, something we know Liz won’t do because that would disrupt the status quo in a way that would destroy the situation. This entry has the unenviable task of laying the pipe for that predictable outcome, but it does so with a lot of sketch-like imagination, including a musical number in the spirit of SNL and therefore this series. Also, Jack’s fast-track romance with the cold Phoebe (Emily Mortimer) continues, as Liz realizes that Phoebe’s not a good person — an emotional conflict that emphasizes the Liz/Jack relationship as the series’ human core, but as always, with laughs that manage to smooth over clichés because of the winking sense of sketch-like parody earned by the show’s situation and also supported by what’s established within it. In other words, despite all the narrative things this offering must accomplish (with Tracy as well — in a plot meant to set up the finale’s dramatic jeopardy), the series’ special comic style has developed so much that it’s able to carry the day, reflecting an innate capacity for self-elevation.

10) Episode 21: “Hiatus” (Aired: 04/26/07)

The crew looks for Tracy while Jack is visited by his disapproving mother.

Written by Tina Fey | Directed by Don Scardino

One’s finale is another laugh-filled romp that evidences just how much 30 Rock has stepped into its comic identity over the course of this first season. Oh, yes, the show will continue to become bolder and more like SNL in the years ahead — and it’s not at its peak yet — but where it finds itself here is already impressive, supplying big hahas via stories predicated on the regulars and their relationships inside this premise (especially Liz and Jack) but propelled by inherently funny notions and starry casting that furthers the selling point that 30 Rock is TV-for-TV lovers: a parodic, almost sketch-like comedy supported by the emotional and narrative continuity of the well-templated sitcom form. In addition to the use of Will & Grace’s Sean Hayes as one of Kenneth’s deranged hick cousins in the subplot about Tracy going on the lam, this episode notably introduces the Emmy-winning Elaine Stritch as Jack’s mother Colleen — she’s a fiery boost of energy who’ll appear throughout the series’ run as one of its finest recurring guests, someone who provides laughs while also granting emotional exploration of the Jack character. Here, she helps extricate him from the Phoebe arc, but more importantly, she simply enhances 30 Rock’s comedic brilliance, playing well with the leads, Jack and Liz, who emerge from this season as the bedrock of the show and all its justified comic foolishness (which will ratchet up from there). They’re two of the richest, funniest sitcom characters of the 2000s.

 

Other episodes that merit a look include: “The Baby Show,” a funny half hour that sets up Liz’s desire for family as a primary objective for her character, along with “The Break-Up,” which spoofs sensitivity training with help from Tracy’s character, “The C Word,” which notably introduces Rip Torn as Jack’s boss, and “The Fighting Irish,” where we meet more of Jack’s family, including a brother played by Nathan Lane and sisters played by Molly Shannon and Siobhan Fallon Hogan. I’ll also take this space to cite “Blind Date,” a formative showing for the thawing tensions between Liz and Jack, and “Corporate Crush,” which amusingly finds conflict in Jack being a third wheel in Liz’s new relationship with Floyd.

 

*** The MVE Award for the Best Episode from Season One of 30 Rock goes to…

“Black Tie”

 

 

Come back next week for Season Two!