SITUATION COMEDY OF THE SIXTIES: THE EVOLUTION OF A POPULAR GENRE
John Bryant
In 1971, when All in the Family first captivated viewers with its witty articulation of controversies that were threatening to split the nation, media critics praised both the program and its genre. For years, the situation comedy had been considered puerile fantasy, homespun banality, and a national embarrassment; now, the new taste for polemics suddenly legitimized the lowly comic form.1 By abandoning formula for realism, it had come of age. To be sure, the situation comedy had evolved, but critics had also misperceived the endpoints of that evolution. Not only do television’s earlier comedies (despite their domesticity) exhibit observable patterns of social commentary, but the new breed of comedy (despite its tendentiousness) in no way abandons the conventional format. In short, All in the Family was not so innovative, and the old formula not so lifeless. My purpose here is to advance a methodology that will allow us a more precise means of analyzing the evolution of television comedy over the past thirty years. The focus will not be on the polemical Lear Productions of the 1970s but rather the programs of the preceding decade which broadcast unique modifications of the domestic comedy formula nurtured in the 1950s.
The sixties era is a particularly attractive period for the evolutionary study of comedy. To begin with, the decade brought a technological and artistic renaissance for television, introducing innovations in format, scheduling, production, color, and special effects that are now commonplace. It was also an age of extraordinary comedy production. More situation comedies were made then than in the 1950s; more achieved lasting success, and, as one might suspect, more demonstrated radical departures from conventional forms—departures as radical in their own way as the politics and customs of the age. Comedies featuring extended, broken, and even parodic families replaced the staid domesticity of the 1950s. At the same time, variations in plot, character, and setting occurred with the introduction of rural, military, and fantasy comedies. How these variants departed from the standard domestic formula and why they enjoyed a brief but intense popularity in the mid-sixties are the central problems to be resolved in this study of an evolving formula.
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The importance of studying the evolution of any formula seems self-evident.2 Formulaic art is a complex mode of fantasy in which recurring patterns of aesthetic conflict (as revealed in plot, character, and imagery) correspond to and help resolve social conflicts perceived by a popular audience. It is an artful mechanism of "enculturation" confidently affirming established norms.3 Hence, a change in formula suggests a significant change in the way the people see themselves and fantasize. More to the point, formulaic art is inherently evolutionary, for it adapts to the changing psychic needs of the populace. It serves as a mediator between an audience’s desire for "security and order" and the forces of history which necessarily threaten to destroy that stability.4 Through the controlled fantasy of a formula, partisans become friends, conservatives accept change, even the repressed safely explore the new and the forbidden. More than an affirmation of the status quo, formula art is a ritualized means by which social norms are allowed to evolve. The evolution, for instance, of the parvenu in situation comedies from a fool (as in I Love Lucy), to a moral center (as in The Mary Tyler Moore Show) reveals a growing self-confidence in our nation’s social climbers to be able to "make it" but with intelligence and grace. But the degree to which formulaic art may be used effectively as a "cultural indicator" of social evolution depends largely upon our understanding of the ways in which a given formula evolves at a given time.
For the Darwinian, natural organisms evolve through environmental adaptation and natural selection. The evolution of a popular genre is no different. In both cases, the "fittest" survives. Just as mutants in a species adapt more or less readily to the rigors of life and then prevail or perish, so, too, do variations in a genre "catch on" in popularity or "fall flat" and are forgotten. Organisms adapt to life, but formulaic art adapts to shifting patterns of popularity. Thus, to study a formula without regard for the popular trends that shaped that formula would be tantamount to the study of animal structure without regard for environmental forces. And yet our approach to formula fiction, based primarily upon content analysis, affords us just such a limited perspective. John G. Cawelti, for instance, while acknowledging the need for audience response data as a means of deriving the social causes of formulas, is satisfied to infer those causes from the character of the formula itself. Of course, his useful study is necessarily limited by the fact that no audience response data exist for the materials he examines.5 With television comedies, however, there is a superabundance of facts, beyond the formula, which reveals those popular trends that shape the formula itself.
To be sure, popularity is a fickle thing, and a program’s rise or fall may depend upon chance and the whimsy of taste. A formula,
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however, exists because it has enjoyed sustained popularity despite the weekly setbacks to which individual programs are heir. A method of analysis suited to situation comedy must be able to account for a comedy’s success in terms of both its long-run attachment to a meaningful formula and its weekly existence amidst the hurly-burly of the television industry. In designing such an approach along these lines, we may distinguish three "components of popularity." First of all, a comedy’s popularity may be inherent in the product or comedy itself. It may also be affected by factors relating to its production as well as its reception by viewers, or consumption.
The very existence of television comedy implies that it fulfills a popular need; hence, it is logical to assume that the situation comedy is an inherently popular product. But in assessing the product itself, we must further ask if the appeal is inherent in the formula or in the dramatic presentation of the formula. It is tempting to emphasize performance and look for the causes of popularity in an actor’s comic genius or a cast’s interactions, comic locutions, and stage business. But these novelties are merely cosmetics applied weekly to a deeper set of familiar conventions. It may be argued, of course, that the long-standing popularity of Lucille Ball’s comedies (I Love Lucy and The Lucy Show) is due to Ball’s genius, but in all episodes (whether as wife, mother, or widow) Lucy’s role as a scheming woman is dictated by the formula. It is just as likely, then, that Ball’s popularity stems from the appeal of her formula-bound stereotype. Hence, in assessing the power of the Lucy programs or of any popular comedy, it is proper to give prior consideration to formula rather than performance. As we shall see, television formula comedies fall into one of two modes and can be classified further into various subgenres peculiar to each mode.
In terms of production, two factors may affect popularity: programming and the production staff. Programming decisions involve the type and quantity of programs to be developed (volume) and the times they are to be aired (scheduling). Over the years, changes in the volume of comedy production reflect what producers perceive to be popular, and reveal their long-range strategies in responding to the audience’s growing or diminishing need for comedy. If volume indicates production strategies, scheduling is the tactical side of programming geared to winning weekly ratings skirmishes. A program may be scheduled early or late during prime time to attract young or adult audiences; it may be aired opposite another comedy to seize a competitor’s audience or opposite a different genre (a western) to develop an alternative audience. Moreover, an untried program may be placed before, after, or between proven successes to create a "line-up" of popular shows that will keep
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viewers tuned to one network for an evening.6 Although poor timing along these lines can "break" a promising program, few programs have succeeded in the long run simply because of advantageous scheduling. Scheduling statistics, however, will provide evidence of the choices an audience makes between specific programs aired during seasons of significant comedy production. Overall, volume statistics will lead us to crucial years in the development of the genre’s popularity, and scheduling will illuminate the nature of specific audience preferences during those years.
Volume and scheduling aside, it is tempting to assume that a comedy’s popularity stems primarily from the excellence of the production staff. But in a genre study such as this, this is impracticable because the "inventor" of a television comedy is a committee of artists and entrepreneurs that includes producers, directors, "creators," writers, actors, and even network censors. Finding a single mind behind a program or series is like isolating motes of dust in a ball of lint. Furthermore, since the staff relies upon the comedy formula as a matter of convenience to meet the weekly demand for scripts, it is clear that these craftsmen must place formula before comic invention. Later in this study when we focus on individual programs, the comments of producers and actors on the nature of their programs will (like scheduling details) become useful evidence in discerning shifts in popular trends.
The most logical resource for the analysis of popularity is the comedy "consumer," and the consumer’s preference for comedy (i.e., fads) may be measured indirectly through production volume figures, or directly through ratings. A fad is the dominance of one comedy subgenre over another, and a shift in subgenre dominance obviously suggests shifts in audience preference. A subgenre may evolve in one of two ways. Beloved secondary characters in a particular comedy may be given their own programs, thus initiating the familiar phenomenon, the "spin-off." Also, producers attempting to duplicate an audience’s enthusiasm for a program may isolate formal elements contributing to the program’s success and build new programs around those elements. By scrutinizing the yearly rise and fall of the number of programs that can be classified as belonging to a particular comedy subgenre, we can accurately gauge shifts in audience response to the situation comedy formula.
A more direct means of determining audience preferences is by laboriously rummaging through the stockpile of audience response data made available through audiometric firms. One may doubt the validity of ratings because of an inherent resistance to the quantification of taste, but rating samples are well-chosen and render highly accurate statistics.7 Accurate or not, producers use the data to confirm or deny their own
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perceptions of an audience; hence, we may put as much faith in the evidence as do the producers. As with scheduling data, ratings figures are best suited to the weekly response to individual programs and actors and not to the long-range evolution of formula. Nevertheless, significant patterns in ratings over extended periods can be used to substantiate the possible social causes of aesthetic change.
Here, I shall rely upon two kinds of data: ratings provided by the A. C. Nielsen Company of New York, and the "TVQ" devised by Market Evaluations, Inc. of Long Island.8 Nielsen data are gathered by an "audiometer," which registers when and on what channel a television set is in use. The rating is the percentage of sample sets tuned to a particular program at a given time. Obviously the figure cannot indicate if an audience is paying attention to what it views or even if it is present when the set is on. The TVQ, however, measures audience preferences by survey. It is the ratio of the percentage of those in the sample who consider a program to be their favorite over the percentage of those who are familiar with the program. High preference and high familiarity yield a high TVQ. Nielsen, then, offers objective (or "etic") evidence of sets in use, the TVQ, subjective (or "emic") responses. Together, they provide a well-balanced audience profile.9
Given the three components of popularity, we may approach the situation comedy in the following manner. The analysis of the comedy formula and its subgenres will indicate trends in social needs which may be pinpointed through production statistics and confirmed by audience response data. More specifically, the varying volumes of comedy production will indicate fads, and evidence derived from production staffs, scheduling, and ratings figures will substantiate the causes of those fads.
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The situation comedy is an American version of the comedy of manners.10 But unlike the traditional comic form which scorns middle-class pretensions and reinforces an aristocratic social hierarchy, this democratized form, while no less conservative, reassures upwardly mobile viewers of their social validity. In the virtually classless world of the situation comedy, the aristocrat and parvenu are transformed into two recurring, domesticated characters: the solid citizen, often a parent or father figure who is the program’s moral center; and the social climber, frequently a woman or child who is anxious to break free. Instead of class conflict, situation comedy plots invariably focus upon threatened role
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modifications or conflicts within the family: a son wishes to move to an apartment, a daughter wants to marry unwisely, a wife tries to enter show business. In all cases, the errant climber returns to the fold and maintains family coherence.
A significant difference between the formulaic comedy and its traditional predecessor is in the treatment of the climber. The parvenu’s clumsy attempts to climb elicit a curious sense of embarrassment which bespeaks our sympathy, not scorn, for the character’s need to grow and be free.11 When Lucy in I Love Lucy and Ralph in The Honeymooners overstep their marks, we wince as though we had committed their blunders. We are embarrassed for them because their desires too closely resemble our own. The root of this aesthetic response is located in the audience’s ambivalence toward growth. On the one hand, social growth is biologically and, given America’s success model, socially inevitable. Yet such growth must build upon a reorientation or destruction of former relationships. Role modification is as much a threat to the cohesiveness of a family or group of friends as it is a means of securing individuality. The situation comedy formula, then, exposes [confronts] our conflicting urges to be part of a stable group and to assert our independence from that group. Although the formula demands a final return to stability, it is in the journey away from stability, the glimpsing of forbidden worlds of freedom, and the exploration but eventual repression of the wish to grow beyond one’s prescribed role that we find the formula’s dynamic appeal. The situation comedy formula’s survival through three decades of at times remarkable social change is due to its ability to adapt the .surface appearance of the family to the realities of contemporary life. Today’s comedies reflect a broader definition of "family." The groups of professionals, co-workers, and friends in Barney Miller and Taxi have generally replaced the traditional domestic families typical of 195 Os comedies. The few remaining family-centered programs such as Diff’rent Strokes tend to shy away from traditional familial roles. But each comedy establishes a coherent group, and (in keeping with the formula) each group demands allegiance from its members. Growth occurs more readily today, but still it must be legitimized by the group. Unlike the Western formula, which requires a highly particularized setting (and has accordingly dwindled in popularity), the situation comedy’s character groupings and setting may include single women on the make as well as con men in the military, witches in the kitchen, and hillbillies in Hollywood. Such diversity masking the formula’s unvarying deeper structure requires of us a further classification of the situation comedy.
Each of the 245 separate television comedies aired between 1950 and 1979 can be sorted into one of two modes, and each mode includes
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varying motifs or subgenres.12 A comedy’s mode may be domestic or variant depending upon its plot structure or more specifically its conception of "situation." Domestic situations involve a normal group of people (family or workmates) who are embroiled in understandable entanglements. Here, motif depends upon variations in the group of characters. The group can be a regular family unit, a man and a woman (possibly a childless husband and wife), a single parent and child, or a single man or woman associated with a tight group of friends.13 Variant situations involve either peculiar circumstances that bring normal people together (urbanites marooned on an island) or a normal gathering of peculiar people (a housewife who is also a witch). Both variant plot structures revolve around a single issue each week: getting those castaways off the island or preserving the witch’s secret identity. There are three basic motifs in the variant mode: rural, military, and fantasy.14 A fourth, minor subgenre is the parody, which uses situation comedy to "spoof" other popular genres such as the spy thriller or western. (See Chart I for yearly distribution of motifs.)
The volume of comedy production over the decades reveals intriguing patterns in the development of these various subgenres and, in particular, the sudden growth and disappearance of the variant motifs of the 1960s. On the surface, comedy production appears constant during the 1950s and 1960s with an average yearly offering of twenty-seven programs lasting on the average of two years. But the ratio of comedy to all programs in the 1950s doubled in the 1960s,15 and yearly figures also show distinctly different growth patterns for the two decades. The 1950s data reveal a downward graph of comedy production from the record high in 1952 of forty-two programs to a low in 1958 of thirteen. The 1960s, however, experienced three distinct peaks in comedy production (1961, 1965, and 1969); it was an era that pulsed with infusions of comedy.
By examining the ratio of new comedies produced each year to those carried over from previous years, we may acquire a more refined understanding of the "volatility" of a given year’s productivity. A high ratio signals an infusion of new programs and suggests a network’s desire to rally audience interest in new comedies. Low ratios indicate a preponderance of carry-overs and satisfaction among producers and consumers with already-popular offerings. The relatively high volatility ratios (V) for the 1952-54 seasons, for instance, are due to the networks’ attempts to ride the crest of popularity generated in 1951 by the immediate success of I Love Lucy. Overall, the average V for the 1950s was 0.47, but for the 1960s it was considerably higher, V= 0.68. New comedy production was clearly on the rise, and to a large extent, it paid off. Compared to the 1950s, which produced only eighteen comedies that ran
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