“Start in Season Three; that’s when it finally gets good.”
That’s a common piece of advice given by a seasoned viewer of a particular sitcom before anyone else’s first watch. More often than not, comedy shows debut with a rocky start — and that show’s most rabid fans will be the first to explain this (sometimes even arguing which specific episode the show catches stride).
This dysfunction can be rooted in a lot of places. Sometimes the cast is mismatched. Maybe the team encounters writing issues, or the producers make last minute changes. Occasionally, it’s just hard to watch because there is such low production value.
One great example of these difficulties is Season One of “Parks and Recreation.” When the “The Office” spin-off was announced in 2008 to be released the following year, no work had even begun for the show — between casting, writing or locations. Cue a rushed six-episode pilot season. Every character was underdeveloped — particularly Leslie, who came across as much less intelligent and likable than the later character many came to love. Season One viewers are encouraged to laugh at her optimism rather than root for her. The reliance on mockumentary techniques and workplace cynicism ripped from “The Office” playbook led to a pretty uninspiring end result (even if there are still some golden jokes scattered throughout). A particular improvement for my enjoyment of the show is the removal of Mark and introduction of Chris and Ben through Season Two.
But not all sitcoms start that way. One show that, while still encountering some of these points of turbulence, largely prevented a “Parks and Recreation” start is “It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia.” The first season isn’t exactly like the later seasons, but the fundamental setup and writing for the show have always been maintained. The first set of episodes still hold up and have high ratings on IMDb, even though later seasons are stronger. One key difference with “Always Sunny” is that the core cast are behind much of the design and writing of the show — especially the pilot season. Charlie Day and Rob McElhenney each have more writing credits than anyone else, at 56 of the 179 episodes, their co-star Glenn Howerton also having 42 credits. When the writers overlap with the actors and the characters they play, it can provide a jumpstart to the cast’s ability to embody the comedy. The difficult period of learning what makes a character funny — and what doesn’t — happens much faster.
Of course, “Always Sunny” has been modified plenty since its initial season. The writers and cast just realized early on that these elements should be heavily exaggerated, to lean into the show’s absurdity and comic depravity. Dennis — later known for being a controlling character who refers to himself as a “golden god” — just plays out as generally arrogant in Season One. Charlie isn’t the barely functional fool, he’s a guy-on-the-street type of unintelligent. A slight deviation is Dee, who is presented as the voice of reason/straight man character in Season One. Later on, she’s just as complicit in the chaos as the rest of the gang, but is still treated as an outsider.
The largest core change to the show was the addition of Danny DeVito in Season Two, which was definitely a good call by the network. His screen presence and commitment to the general nonsense grounds the other main characters, and his character improved the show’s opportunities for plotlines. The dynamics in “Always Sunny” work significantly better now, and, in comparison, early episodes outshine most other shows in their early periods.
Any sitcom I’ve enjoyed involves actors and actresses that know how to embody the character. The flaws and strengths of these fictional people — both their tragic and comic natures — all find a foundational home in the mind of the cast. From “Schitt’s Creek” to “New Girl,” “Parks and Rec” to “Always Sunny,” the highlights are decently funny scripts that a well-adjusted cast transforms to pure magic. The important bit there is the word “well-adjusted,” because it almost always takes time for a cast to be comfortable enough with each other and to find the wiggle room in a character in order to truly build something killer. No matter the strength of the writing or the comedy chops of the cast, there must be adjustment periods, as everyone realizes on-the-job what needs to be done to hone the experience. Some shows have this potential, but don’t have the right talent to develop and survive that period (others were perfect from day one, enter “Modern Family”). In the end, each sitcom’s journey towards its best form is malleable and changing. “Parks and Rec” took a few seasons to get there; “Sunny” arguably struck gold early on.
Watch a show in its strongest seasons, or watch it from front to back. If the team behind that show did their job, you’ll be able to enjoy it one way or another.
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