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Saturday, April 12, 2003


Why Everybody Loves Raymond is Special
How Withholding Emotion Causes an Audience to Be Emotional


The other day, my friend Mag told me how much she loves "Everybody Loves Raymond." I've never sat down and watched a whole episode of that show, and I never understood its continuing appeal to America. Being a show about someone with my name, it sounds more intriguing, but in the sound bite glimpses I've had of it, I didn't see why it was funny. Yet the sharp, witty Heather Havrilesky praises it in Salon.com. The creator, Phil Rosenthal, explains what he tries to do and not do, a great article for aspiring TV writers:
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"Everybody Loves Raymond" (Mondays at 9 p.m. on CBS) is one of those shows you pass for years on your way to some other channel. Oh, here's that grouchy family show, you think. Ray Romano. Annoyed wife. Overbearing mother. Loser brother. Sure, it seems mildly amusing, but ... What else is on?

Then one day, while you're waiting for your spaghetti to boil or your laundry to dry, you sit down and watch an entire episode. After the second or third time you've laughed out loud, it occurs to you that this show is different from the others. Not only is "Everybody Loves Raymond" much more entertaining and weird than the current batch of family sitcoms on the air, it's a hell of a lot funnier. Like a strange mix of "The Cosby Show," "All in the Family" and "Seinfeld," it unflinchingly exposes its characters' worst impulses without veering too far from familiar territory.

And while most sitcoms are packed to the brim with shtick that doesn't suit the characters, punch lines that interrupt the action, and ridiculous situations that are as unbelievable as they are uninteresting, "Everybody Loves Raymond" is grounded in interesting, human stories and incredibly funny but realistic dialogue....

More than anything, "Everybody Loves Raymond" is an exploration of the daily trials and tribulations of marriage....

Q: Did you integrate drama into the show from the beginning?

Yeah. I truly believe dramatic moments help to strengthen the characters, and then make it funnier when that character does something. Like on "The Honeymooners," I remember one where Norton got hurt after a fight with Ralph. Norton is the funniest character ever on television, all he ever did was make you laugh, and if he's hurt, oh, my God! Your heart breaks for him. And then you see how it affects Ralph, and he rushes to the hospital to get a transfusion, and of course, Norton is fine, but Ralph has to give the transfusion anyway now. So you just laugh harder because suddenly, they're more real as people. And you laugh more because it's a heartier laugh, it's not a surface laugh. We believe them as human beings.
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I remember bumping into this serious episode of "Roseanne" in which John Goodman's character gets sick and is in danger of his life in the hospital. The scene in which he tells Roseanne not to worry and sends her out of the hospital room felt like something out of "ER." Then, alone, he looked up and began a monologue to God, alternately resigned, tearful, and angry, about how he loved Roseanne so much and how he was just not ready to go, how God never replies to him, how he needed more time on earth to help his family.

I was both riveted and very touched. The studio was silent. And this was a "comedy."

I've admired and responded to excellent dramatic moments in "Family Ties," in a series in which Alex Keaton's (Michael J. Fox) friend commits suicide. The writers had Alex talking to himself, one spotlight on a dark empty stage, with some of his family popping in and out like a Greek chorus. Very like a play, and very emotionally powerful.

Do you guys remember the sitcom "Taxi"? Whenever I catch its reruns I always laugh heartily. That show is timeless. The characters are so rich and three-dimensional, so dramatic and flawed that you love them, like in "Cheers." I remember one episode in which Danny DeVito's character, the pain-in-the-ass, selfish boss Louie, starts developing a relationship with Rhea Perlman's character. As you know, the two actors married in 1982, when "Taxi" was close to ending. Louie puts up a tough, cynical, and crude face to the world, but he starts liking Rhea Perlman and trying to break up with her at the same time. He gets nervous and agitated because he starts to really care about her. I loved that episode!

Drama enforces comedy. Reality makes you laugh more. I must take another look at "Everybody Loves Raymond."

Another great article for aspiring drama writers: How do great screen actors portray the truth? By withholding emotion (The Guardian).

The playwright David Mamet gives examples of how watching an actor acting unsentimentally, fighting to hold back emotion, actually causes us to spill over with emotion!

That's one reason The Pianist is so deeply moving. Roman Polanski, a survivor of the Nazi occupation of Krakow, Poland, directs the movie in a cold, unsentimental way, harshly showing people killed, beaten. You are in shock throughout most of the movie, but, like Adrien Brody's character, you don't have time to cry. Only at the end do the tears all come out, and mainly from YOU. I felt the same way with Schindler's List. I cried at the end of both these films.

Whenever I've glimpsed the highly melodramatic Asian drama that's standard schlock with Asian TV and video stores, I cringe. The bad writing and acting keep putting Asian drama in the garbage where it belongs. Asian actors only seem to argue or cry every few minutes, overacting and as shrill as car alarms. All fake looking. Why? Because real people don't argue and cry every five minutes. Real people hide it, try to go on with their lives when hurt, and crack a laugh every now and then. Asian TV keeps showing actresses who never smile. What a waste of a beautiful face.


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