Welcome to a new Sitcom Tuesday! I’m bursting to start coverage of Laverne & Shirley, but my opening essay establishing some thoughts on Garry Marshall — the cornerstone of our next two months here — has become a bigger endeavor than I initially intended, largely because I screened Happy Days (in full) after deciding it makes a better primary reference point. This has yielded the longest piece I’ve written to date. So, I’m still taking my time to get it just right. I appreciate your patience, and in the meantime, I’ve got another slightly relevant rerun…
This week, let’s revisit… The Ten Best THE MANY LOVES OF DOBIE GILLIS Episodes of Season One: https://jacksonupperco.com/2020/06/02/the-ten-best-the-many-loves-of-dobie-gillis-episodes-of-season-one/
Like That ’70s Show, I see similarities between Dobie Gillis and Happy Days, for even though the former is not nostalgic, it’s set in the late ’50s/early ’60s, and is focused on a teen boy and his pals, with some strong familial support — making it an actual Happy Days, existing in the same era and with the same concept. Heck, it’s also got a rebellious co-lead who begins to dominate stories too — not a tough-talking greaser, but a beatnik, another ’50s cliché. However, if Happy Days resembles Dobie Gillis structurally, they don’t jibe thematically, for although both are idea-driven — Happy Days leans on premised nostalgia; Dobie Gillis boasts Max Shulman’s iconic style — their priorities are different. As we’ll discuss, Happy Days deploys nostalgia as a vehicle to carry out its ultimate aim of validating the show’s title, wistfully throwing back to a vintage feel-good sensibility in rejection of its peers’ contemporary values — the aggressive topicality of Lear and the emotional complexity of MTM — losing their elevated realism, and the character work that comes as a result. Dobie Gillis, meanwhile, was built for another reason: to bridge a gap between teens and adults by claiming more human truth. Accordingly, Dobie is sexually motivated and his relationship with his father is strained. This not only renders the show more modern, but honest as well, with the ensuing harshness made goofily palatable by Shulman’s quirky voice, the idea-led vehicle allowing for such dramatic intentions. In this context, Dobie feels like a step forward, while Happy Days feels like a step back. What’s more, I think the “Cult of Fonzie” is a bigger problem than Maynard’s ascension — both because the latter doesn’t really take over his show until the penultimate season, and also because Dobie Gillis’ peak had lapsed long before, back when the network forced Shulman to drop the elements supporting his goal — Dobie lost his libido and dad lost his edge. In contrast, the rise of Fonzie beyond necessary proportions (a.k.a. Richie) does coincide with Happy Days’ qualitative descent, creating more of a link… That said, they both breach their own internal senses of logic too often — see: Maynard’s cave man, Fonzie’s alien friend — and Dobie‘s initial character intentions quickly evaporate, as its idea-driven bent inherently lets it be less tethered to the premised givens of people, places, and things. And, as with Happy Days, that’s not ideal for a low-concept sitcom…
Come back next week for more sitcom fun! And stay tuned tomorrow for a new Wildcard!