Those Were the Days--for Satire

Could “All in the Family,” rightfully heralded as one of the best sitcoms ever, find a place on network television in the hypersensitive ‘90s, when everything of a topical nature seems certain to offend somebody?

Series creator Norman Lear isn’t sure, but he does see the manner in which people respond to current efforts to veer outside the norm--including recent protests over the little-seen UPN sitcom “The Secret Diary of Desmond Pfeiffer”--as an impediment to taking chances.

“This isn’t the best time for America laughing at ourselves,” Lear said. “I think political satire thrives much more at a time when we’re in a mood to laugh at ourselves. The degree of political correctness has just gotten terrible.”

“All in the Family” was considered groundbreaking when the program premiered in 1971. The show not only became a top-rated hit but also spun off numerous other series, including “The Jeffersons” and “Maude,” which in turn begat “Good Times.”

How timely, then, that the series is being celebrated by Nickelodeon this week with a 40-episode Nick at Nite marathon, at a time when “Desmond Pfeiffer” has grabbed headlines and two other new sitcoms--ABC’s “The Hughleys” and Fox’s “Living in Captivity”--approach the “black family moves to white neighborhood” theme of “The Jeffersons” as if that show never existed.

These programs have prompted discussion because they explore territory most series have studiously avoided. Indeed, the idea of producing shows about something--beyond the occasional “very special episode” calculated to try to win the star an Emmy--seems to have disappeared when “Seinfeld’s” designation as being “about nothing” somehow became the highest form of praise.

From a broader perspective, there’s room to ask whether the headaches associated with tackling “issues,” from race to abortion to homosexuality, have had a deleterious effect on the kind of entertainment we see--yielding sitcoms that revel in sex jokes and innuendo at least in part because such humor, however tedious, doesn’t risk alienating any particular political constituency.

Add to this limitation the emphasis on reaching the younger audience media buyers crave, and you might have an explanation for NBC’s comedy formula, which one producer has half-jokingly described as “pretty white chicks living in New York” who can’t find a man. (The latest variation, “Will & Grace,” involves a woman who has found the perfect guy . . . but he’s gay!)

Lear, for one, thinks comedy producers would happily explore more provocative terrain, as their drama brethren do, if the opportunity existed.

“In context, we supply, [the networks] demand. They have to put it on, and let it stay on,” he said, pointing out how CBS left “All in the Family” alone long enough to find its audience.

“I wonder, if more political satire could be done--if more chances could be taken, if shows could be nurtured--would writers still deliver all sex jokes? I tend to think not.”

Lear looks back with bemusement at the furor that greeted “All in the Family’s” arrival, as well as surprise that so little advancement has occurred since its trailblazing run.

Many people sat slack-jawed when they first glimpsed Carroll O’Connor as Archie Bunker, an unabashed bigot, on a network associated with such programs as “The Beverly Hillbillies,” “Green Acres” and “Mayberry R.F.D.” John Leonard, the Life magazine critic, called the show “wretched” and “insulting to [the cast], the American workingman, CBS and everybody who watches the program. Bigotry becomes a form of dirty joke.”

Beyond its politics, “All in the Family” happened to be riotously funny, with a terrific ensemble cast. Lear produced three separate pilots, the first of which--never broadcast--will be shown Saturday on Nickelodeon’s sister channel TV Land as part of its “Museum of Television & Radio Showcase.”

“We didn’t have that chemistry the first two times out,” Lear said. “In the third one, Rob Reiner and Sally Struthers happened to me. That chemistry was made in heaven.

“Whatever else was going on, there were four brilliant performances and some real commedia dell’arte. That would translate to any era.”

Satire isn’t easy to pull off, as a misfire like “Desmond Pfeiffer” demonstrates. Even Lear--who laments not having a weekly forum anymore when he sees what’s in newspapers--was hard-pressed to recapture that magic with “The Powers That Be,” a 1992 NBC sitcom starring John Forsythe as a philandering senator; and “704 Hauser,” which cast John Amos as a black man who moves into Archie’s old address, clashing with his own conservative son.

Lear might not have been able to go home again, but few programs today seek to drive by the neighborhood. Even a show like “Spin City,” which is set against a political backdrop and began with great promise, has seemed more obsessed this season--unfettered a bit by its new 9 p.m. slot--with what’s going on below the belt rather than inside the Beltway.

Granted, that represents the safer and easier path to follow. Sexuality is so pervasive in advertising that the content of TV series generally pales by comparison, and while people might change the channel, few will march in front of a studio or network over sexual innuendo. As an added bonus, references to genitalia don’t require any great insight or, for that matter, even reading a newspaper.

Being funny, not socially relevant, also rightfully remains the prime directive of any good comedy. “All in the Family” didn’t always ponder sweeping issues. The show’s funniest moment may have come after Mike spilled a glass of water, leading Archie to assume his son-in-law had wet the bed in a more unseemly manner. Questions regarding Archie’s whereabouts were usually answered with a loud, howl-inspiring toilet flush.

Yet what allowed the show to achieve greatness stemmed from its ability to paint on a larger canvas as well--enjoying the freedom to explore matters of greater significance as well as life’s little quirks. With more than 50 sitcoms currently scheduled on six broadcast networks, shouldn’t a few be granted the latitude--both by networks and viewers--to try aiming higher or painting with a broader brush?

Rick Du Brow, whose column once graced these pages, often used to begin by wondering “TV or not TV. . . . “ Today, he might be inspired to amend that query to fit the times, something like “PC or not PC. . . . “

Actually, in the current sitcom world, where the discourse seldom rises above a hormonal level, there’s not much mystery surrounding the answer.