So much of what makes any form of entertainment work is down to pure luck; it's about so much more than talent. E.g. As timeless as Frasier feels, a show gleaning chuckles from narcissistic pomposity and bottomless wealth will ring hollow in times of economic disparity and the endemic, insidious culture of self-promotion in the era of the "Influencer". Frasier worked well in its era, so much so that the planned reboot is destined to fail; an aged Kelsey hosting a podcast whilst surrounded by (and, as their likely banking on, perplexed and hilariously flummoxed by) a tedium of pierced, tattooed, overly-coiffed and fashionable ,Twittering tech-savvy genderless youngsters of every race, mocking his lack of awareness and his reluctance to replace his beloved sherry, "eclectic" mid-century modern earth-toned African-baubled decor and classical music with craft ales, artisan chilli, West Coast free-styling, and open-planned Scadi-chic container living. No doubt guest-starring a frail-looking Niles, anorexic, fillered, Botox'd, stretched and prickly Daphne, and an embittered, tired-looking Roz wearing too much eyeliner.
Side-splitting.
Because Seinfeld is "about nothing", it'll likely never come off as entirely dated; no matter how fathomless the characters' lack of humanity. Most can relate to the annoyance of daily living. However, no one should attempt to remake it because it needed every single element, in that particular era, to work. Jerry likely knows this, but he also doesn't keep marrying the same awful demanding entitled narcissistic blonde, so no alimony either.
Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld got very lucky. They nailed a combo of cringe, schadenfreude, and humour with a good balance of successful characters with abject failures. Somehow the results are more warm than mean, more friendly than cynical. And NO politics or current issues; just the minutiae associated with being alive.
Cheers isn't everyone's bag of chips-including mine-but there's obviously comfortable nostalgia to be found there for legions of fans, and the premise would work well in any era as long as the writers weren't forced to shoehorn any political agendas into the scripts. It worked because it was a true escape.
I've chosen these three shows because they were fairly decent-budgeted and non-formulaic sitcoms that are not just beloved classics, they're also cast with a few good examples of "nailed then failed" one-note actors who got lucky.
Smooth your hackles. As previously stated, it's all about the right writers, premise, material, performers, setting, directing and overall mood-at the right time. So much of life revolves around luck, or happenstance, but never so prevalent as it is in the entertainment industry.
There are a few actors who have worked steadily within the television industry, namely Ted Danson and Julia Louise Dreyfus (the former had a few cringe-worthy big screen roles that are best forgotten), and one whose laid back, down home country persona seems to appeal to the masses; Woody Harrelson plays Woody Harrelson in every film role. Nevertheless, he gets bums on seats. He's relatable and has acting chops.
However, none of the others has seen much success beyond the characters they are known for, and this is mainly due to the fact that they aren't particularly multi-faceted.
Kristie Alley, reprising her role as Rebecca-again-incessantly whines in her squeaky-sultry voice, is forever acting with her black fingernails scrabbling at the air, clutching them in front of her as she flaps about in her attempts at making us believe that she's a naughty, waifsy, saucy little imp. I don't care that she's overweight, but all of the flirty flustering about in stilettos, as if she's just learned to walk in them, the giggling, the flapping, indicates that she's attempting to channel her inner pixie; it's not attractive. Kirstie seemed to have a low enough opinion of herself that she wrote less of an autobiography than a list of sexual conquests, and I suspect that the constant jabs at her love of food (e.g. Eating cookies "like a hyena on a zebra"), are attempts to mask the pain that forced her to overeat in the first place. We know how one gets fat. It's too bad her children, good fortune, fame, or sultry beauty couldn't make her care enough about herself to tackle why she wasn't able to overcome her self-destructive tendencies.
And is there a large audience for easy women? When did trashy become synonymous with sexy?
Anyone can copulate; making sex, and/or the conquest of it, the core of your existence is as tiresome as it is troublesome-and troubling.
It ain't love, honey.
Michael Richards will forever be Kramer. He's rubbery, awkward and prone to pratfalls, but he isn't particularly funny. You can see that he's trying not to be Cosmo, but he's simply not good at it. He got VERY lucky.
One can see Rhea Perelman's so-called script could've been written on a set of cocktail napkins. It's so painfully obvious, and she simply couldn't act her way out of a paper bag. Carla was never fleshed-out as a character; she was truly awful, and that's it. No one in their right mind would've employed her. She also got lucky. Really lucky.
Jason Alexander is probably a nice guy who knows he got lucky, but that doesn't make him good at his job. I have the feeling that if he isn't George, he's forgettable. Why did he, for the love of God, have an English accent and a ponytail in his episode??
The less said about the detestable Kathy Griffin, the better, but I'm having a go nonetheless. Was Repugnant and ugly inside and out. Bitchiness is best left to ageing drag queens, not talentless miseries desperate to be seen as "pretty". Her insecurities and self-hatred are on full display as in lieu of humour or cleverness, she does little apart from cutting others to pieces, which, thankfully, will only serve to propel her decent into inevitable obscurity.
I fast forward any scene containing the grating, tanning-bedded, quack-faced, baby-voiced, platinum extension-flipping void that is Kristen Chenoweth. Hollywood has been trying to pull her off of Broadway and plant her on our screens for decades, but she belongs firmly rooted with her ilk of tightly-wound, over-acting, hyper, fellow scenery-chewers that seem to crowd the landscape of musical theatre. She possesses all of the sensuality, subtlety, softness and femininity of a Bedazzled, oily, mahogany-veneered stripper's pole. Again, who finds this sexy?
The son and the cook could've been played by literally anyone. The former actor is lucky that he's so unappealing, otherwise we'd focus on how boring he is. His donut shop co-worker has more presence. The stock hot Latina actress could be any number of busty lusty women who populate Telemundo or the multitude of "novelas" seen via satellite TV (likely streaming now; I'm old).
I actually own the only season of Kirstie. I'm always on the prowl for a good, cosy sitcom, but I've only viewed this a few times. As mesmerisingly beautiful as she was (I'd give up an arm to have ¼ of the hair she still has, even if much of it is extensions), it's a wonder she couldn't find some sort of successful vehicle for herself. This definitely wasn't it.
