Office Party

There is a pivotal point in the lifespan of a television show where it is either passed on to early syndication, or climbs above the din of regular sit-com bunk to become something the TV executives would kill their own mothers for: a successful TV show. But there is a third category of television show which transcends even this latter category- the kind of television show that steps outside the borders of acceptability and reminds us what quality is, through the simple act of not trying to follow that elusive path to success, and just doing their own thing. Shows like Seinfeld or M.A.S.H. almost seem destined, from the moment they first hit the airways, to make a lasting impact on the landscape of a generation.

The latest show that seems to be grasping at the finger of greatness is the NBC sitcom, The Office. I appreciate NBC for its willingness to develop new shows. Although it’s more likely by good luck than good management, NBC has helmed several great shows, such as Seinfeld, or even good ones like Cheers, neither of which would have gotten a second chance in any other network, after dry initial runs. So, too, with The Office, but with a weak September lineup, and a successful run (for star Steve Carrel) of the movie 40-Year-Old Virgin, NBC was willing to give the show a shot. And the world became a better place.

As we go along in the progression of the show, the motivation of each character becomes apparent. The office is populated with an uncouth office manager whose professional ineptitude is matched only by his inability to see said ineptitude. Michael Scott increasingly finds himself on the outside of the office bubble; more often than not, it’s a wall he’s built himself, though he always tries harder to gain acceptance, friends, love…. Michael often manifests his pressing need for acceptance in his devoted man-crush towards jaded temp, Ryan. When not harassing Ryan with phone calls, Michael is always running around, pressing his perceived comic abilities on his subordinates and fighting off the directives from ‘Corporate’ which so often pits him against his weary compatriots. Liked by everyone or not, Michael is the nucleus of the office environment. He is at the center of a trinity which has itself looking inward for inspiration.

At the bottom of the trinity: Dwight Schrute. Militant worker; obsessively loyal to the Dunder Mifflin Paper Company which pays everyone’s cheques, Dwight represents everything that Michael doesn’t want to be, and perhaps what he sees in himself. Dwight creates as many awkward situations as does Michael, but is unrepentant in his social clumsiness. He represents where Michael has been; where he doesn’t want to be. On the flip side is Jim Halpert; a smooth-talking, indifferent-to-his-workplace guy, who is universally liked, and always has the right thing to say. Jim is to Michael what Michael is to Dwight: an ideal. Someone to look up to.

Arguably more interesting than this trio, however, is the duet that plays out between Jim and Keds-wearing receptionist, Pam. The writers have been dangling the carrot that is their relationship since the pilot episode last year. My fiancee and I frequently, and lovingly, call the show “Jim and Pam,” because of our devotion to, and desperate hunger to see more of, their relationship. (I’ve considered a link to Jim Morrison and Pam Courson, but I think it's a small coincidence, nothing more.) Jim, the helplessly in-love, and equally charming guy distracts the misguided Pam from her relationship to warehouse warthog, Roy, as their relational closeness begins to match the proximity of their desks (they sit right across from each other). What a treat, then, when Jim finally laid out his feelings for Pam on this evening’s season finale. Seemingly immune to his affectionate advances, Pam balks at Jim’s offer of love (a love which contrasts so painfully to Roy’s indifferent, but selfish treatment of the lovely, plain-bagel-personality of Pam). At this point, I was yelling at the television, waiting for resolution. When I thought it was all over, Pam is confessing the situation to her mother, and the Jeopardy moment arrives. “Yes, I am,” Pam answers. I’ll take, “What is, are you in love with him?” for $500, Alex. Jim crosses the floor at that moment, coming out from the shadows to do what the watchers of the great NCB show, Jim and Pam have been waiting for him to do for two seasons: he plants one on Pam.

If ever the word vicarious applied to a situation, this would be the one. Watching those two fulfill (or seem to fulfill) the promise of a love only hinted at in the pilot last season, reminded me of falling in love with my soon-to-be wife, and made me smile like I haven’t in so long. And because of the show’s aforementioned brilliance, Jim kissing Pam won’t be a jump-the-shark moment like Ross kissing Rachel, or Niles kissing Daphne or even Tony kissing Angela. No, The Office has proved that it is unique; an animal unto itself with a veritable brain-trust of talent in writing and comedy. I think the Jim and Pam kiss will be one of many moments in a show full of great moments.