Sitcoms’ decline: What’s wrong with those guys?

It’s not “Joey” that’s on a “downhill slide” [“How’s He Doin’? Well, Not So Hot,” by Scott Collins, Dec. 13]; it’s half-hour comedies. People don’t like them anymore. And they used to a lot.

Unlike almost any time in TV history, the ratings’ Top 20 regularly includes just four comedies. Two, CBS’ “Everyone Loves Raymond” and NBC’s “Will & Grace,” have been airing for seven seasons or longer. A third, CBS’ “Two and a Half Men,” following “Raymond,” has benefited from positioning. The fourth is NBC’s “Joey,” a first-year show for which the highest hopes were held, spun off as it was from the 10-year juggernaut, “Friends.”

Of those four, only “Two and a Half Men” demonstrates extended muscle, making the future of sitcomedy even bleaker than its currently troubled present.

The question is, “Why?”

A studio executive is on record as decrying, “Writers just aren’t funny anymore.” Well, that could be the reason. Unfunny writers can sink a comedic genre faster than anything. This insightful executive could perform a valuable public service by exploring exactly what it was that caused the writers to become unfunny, so we can correct the situation and make them funny once again.

Let’s imagine that the explanation lies elsewhere. Let’s look, for example, at the sitcom format itself, a format that has served with little deviation for 75 years, going back to radio. Could the old setup-punch-line rhythms be growing tiresome, the story lines overly predictable, the man-child and sex-starved sister-in-law characters a tad too familiar? No format lasts forever. Look at cowboys and the private detective. It may just be time.

And what about the networks? They don’t just order comedies anymore, they’re partners now. How are they doing in the funny business? Is their input inspiring comic innovation or blanded-out conformity? You know, it’s possible it’s not the writers who aren’t funny anymore but rather others involved in the enterprise. But that’s not easy to nail down.

And let’s not forget the public. Could the agenda requirements of both left and right have straight-jacketed the creative process toward some safe but unsatisfying middle? Exclude the jokes that aren’t at somebody’s expense and what have you got left? C-SPAN, I think.

And then there are the reality shows. I don’t mean the fact that they’re bumping comedies off the schedule because they’re cheaper and audiences like them better. I’m talking about the loose, unstructured way people in reality shows interact, much akin to actual life. The arrangement may be outlandishly artificial, but behavior and dialogue contrivance, the essence of sitcom, are replaced by identifiable human behavior and a suspense-filled outcome.

So not only are reality shows replacing half-hours on the schedule, they’re also contributing to isolating the remaining ones to the Bizarro World of Sitcomland. People in sitcoms behave one way -- the way people behave in sitcoms -- while people on the rest of the shows behave like regular human beings. Imagine arriving at a party mistakenly believing it’s a costume party and nobody’s got a clown nose on but you. That’s the sitcom in the current context of television.

Recent comedy has veered toward the extreme, desperate to ignite the enthusiasms of a jaded audience. But, like watching the drunk don a lampshade, a viewer’s reaction may be less hilarity than “What’s wrong with that guy?”

My proposal lies closer to the reality paradigm: a comedy that holds up a mirror and invites us to laugh at ourselves. We know we’re all funny. Our family tells us that all the time. Rather than drawing on their tele-viewing experience, why not encourage writers to dig deep into their personal histories and serve up identifiable human beings, speaking and interacting in the hilarious way people do? It’s a risk, but what have we got to lose?

In the meantime, needing very badly to laugh, we’ll take whatever comedies we get. Just don’t expect us to love them.