This week, we saw the possible series finale for one of my favorite sitcoms, Scrubs. Scrubs has always been one of the more unique shows in the television landscape, both in terms of content and production. Scrubs was one of the only shows on television that, for the majority of its run, aired on a different network than the one that produced it, being produced by ABC’s Touchstone Television but airing on NBC.1 This, of course, changed in the last season, when the show was dropped by NBC and was picked up by ABC. After the WGA Strike foiled their plans to wrap up the narrative in Season 7, ABC gave them a chance to end the series on their own terms in an 8th season. The show was also unique in that it was in constant danger of being cancelled for much of its run2, yet still managed to pull off 168 episodes over the course of 8 years on the air.
The show was narratively unique as well. It played with the traditional formula of the will-they/won’t-they love story between two lead characters, J.D. and Elliot, in a way that bucked television convention. Instead of making it the central focus of the show to the point where it grates on the audience, the two were brought together for a few episodes at a time in the early seasons, and the romantic plot was then ignored for entire seasons until they were finally brought back together, not in the final episode, but early in the final season. The two male lead characters had a strong relationship that, in a running joke on the show, bordered on the romantic in a way that few series before it had the courage to attempt. It lacked the typical “television amnesia” that is especially prevalent in sitcoms, where characters ignore the events of past episodes. Instead, Scrubs built off past events, often turning one-liner jokes into running gags or even recurring characters like Hooch or Leonard, the hook-handed security guard. Small plot points came back around seasons later, such as the conspiracy between Carla and the Janitor to secretly replace J.D. and Turk’s dead stuffed dog that Carla had accidentally misplaced. Frequent viewership was rewarded with in-jokes from past episodes, especially in the Season 5 episode “My Déjà Vu, My Déjà Vu,” which consisted almost entirely of jokes from past episodes, and even recycled a b-story from a past episode almost verbatim. Yet, the true strength of the show was in its ability to mix the off-the-wall comedy with serious, dramatic moments. At times this formula faltered, particularly when the comedy stretched the show beyond the limits of reality and then attempted to come back down to earth for a serious emotional moment. Still, there were several moments in the show where the elements of comedy and drama came together in a powerful way.
The show’s biggest flaw, however, was the tendency for the voice-over narration to wrap up the episodes’ disparate plotlines in loose metaphors or themes that awkwardly tied them together, leading to a forced and overly sentimental ending of each episode. This formula was parodied several times, particularly in a moment of post-modern reflexivity in the 7th season episode, “My Waste of Time”:
J.D.: Oh I’m just doing this thing where I use a slice of wisdom from someone else’s life to solve a problem in my own life.
Jordan: It seems coincidental.
J.D. And yet I do it almost every week.3
Despite this flaw, the little-show-that-could developed a cult following that is coming out in full force as ABC decides the fate of the show for the 2009-2010 television season, despite the fact that the show’s creator Bill Lawrence, and stars Zach Braff and Judy Reyes have announced they will not return for a 9th season if there is one.4 Without Lawrence, the creative force behind the show, Reyes, whose character on the show is married to another prominent character on the show, or Braff, the star and narrator of the show, many fans feel that a 9th season of the show would, inevitably, “jump the shark,” and are arguing, often vehemently, that the show should not return for a 9th season without its full cast. Both ABC and Bill Lawrence remain indifferent to fan complaints and still talk about a “50/50” chance of the show returning with new characters for next season.5 Since ABC owns the rights to the show, and Lawrence created the show, it would seem that they have the full authority to make such decisions about the show’s continuation. Yet, do the fans have the right to voice complaints? Do they, in a sense, have a certain sense of ownership of the show and the characters that allow them to have a say in the decision?
A certain logic in television states that since the shows, especially those aired on broadcast networks, are provided free of charge, the creators owe nothing to the audience. They have provided a free service and it is ungrateful to criticize the quality or content of that free service. In a recent interview, Bill Lawrence laughed off a suggestion made by a fan that, if the show were to continue without the original characters, it should no longer be called Scrubs:
I think one of the weirdest comments I got, Will, was somebody on the message board who, when I said, “It’s gonna be like anew [sic] show,” said, “Well, then don’t call it ‘Scrubs’!” I’m, like, “What does it matter to you?” (Laughs) “So, like, you’re okay with it if it’s not called ‘Scrubs’ but, like, ‘Doctors’?” “Yeah!” Well, that’s just idiotic.6
His comment that such a suggestion is “idiotic” seems odd considering that he made the same suggestion at a speech at his alma mater, William and Mary, suggesting that, if the show were to go on without Zach Braff, it would be a completely different show, and possibly need a different title.7 However, the comment I find most interesting in this quote from Lawrence is the part where he says: “What does it matter to you?” In his condescending tone he seems to forget the power that the viewer has over the fate of a television show, a power that the creators and even the networks lack: if the audience doesn’t watch the show, then the show will die.
Television audiences have always taken fierce possession over the characters in the shows they watch. Many scholars have discussed (almost to death) the phenomenon of housewives in the late-60’s writing homoerotic fan-fiction stories about Star Trek’s Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock in an attempt to feminize two otherwise staunchly masculine characters. The phenomenon of fan-fiction has been examined in-depth by many media theorists, mainly because it is one of the primary ways in which fans of a show become active rather than passive recipients of media. One of the best resources on this subject, which I highly recommend, is Henry Jenkins’s book Convergence Culture, which deals not only with fan fiction, but also with other ways in which fans take control over the media they consume, such as the Survivor spoilers who go to great lengths to uncover the secrets of the show before it airs, or the amateur film makers who make Star Wars tribute films on shoe-string budgets.8 Media companies have gone to great lengths to try to shut down these active consumers, yet, ironically, it is the dedication to these movies and television shows that the media makers have intentionally tried to cultivate which has led to these legally ambiguous acts of fan tribute. The creators of these shows and movies have created their own monsters.
It is much the same in the case with Scrubs. While Scrubs is not the source of a great deal of fan-fiction (although, virtually every TV show or movie generates some fan-fiction these days), it has developed a strong and dedicated cult following. The fact that they make references back to past episodes that offer a pay-off for long-time viewers is a sign that the creators and producers not only expect but encourage fans to become an active audience, seeking out all the episodes of the show to understand how all 8 seasons fit together as a cohesive narrative. They expect and want the audience to become attached to the characters, otherwise the tear-jerker ending of the show’s 8th season finale (which, I admit, got me a little teared up myself) would have had no purpose.
Viewers have an investment in these characters that the creators have intentionally tried to create. Viewers also have a certain ownership over the characters because, as we have already seen, it is only through the audience’s continued viewership that the characters are allowed to survive. All the combined dedication of Bill Lawrence, ABC and NBC would have had no effect in keeping the show on the air if the viewers did not continue to tune in. Thus, it could be said that the fans are not being “idiotic” when they claim their right to weigh in on the future of the show and its characters; they helped to create both in the first place.
Thus, Lawrence’s question of “What does it matter to you?” seems rather silly. It matters to the dedicated fan base because Lawrence and the rest of the creative team behind Scrubs wanted it to matter to them. Therefore, if the audience declares that they don’t want to see the show continue on without its main characters for fear that it will tarnish the legacy of their show, moving it into the territory of AfterM*A*S*H or the post-Ron Howard seasons of Happy Days, then they certainly deserve to be heard. After all, if the show does return for a 9th season, the fans’ opinions will be heard loud and clear once the ratings come back on a revamped, J.D.-less version of Scrubs. This is not to suggest that the fans have more of an ownership over the show and its characters than either ABC or Bill Lawrence. It is just to suggest that the fans have more of an ownership over the show than either of its legal owners have given them credit for.
No comments:
Post a Comment