You Can't Go Home Again, Again
In April of 1997, comedian Ellen DeGeneres made
television history when she, along with her sitcom
alter ego, Ellen Morgan, came out of the closet.
Ellen became the first series to feature an out
and proud lesbian as the show's main character, as
well as the only show to star an openly gay actor. The
following year, ABC pulled the plug on the series due
to "low ratings." In May 1998, Entertainment
Weekly ran a cover story about the series'
cancellation in which ABC Entertainment Chairman
Stuart Bloomberg claimed Ellen's audience
diminished because, "as it became more politicized and
issue-oriented, it became less funny and the audience
noticed." Translation: the show was too gay.
Three years, one HBO special, and one highly publicized break-up later, Ellen has returned to primetime in a new sitcom, The Ellen Show. Originally, CBS announced that the comedian would be headlining a weekly variety show, but after shooting a pilot, both DeGeneres and the network agreed it was not the best format to showcase her talents. A weekly variety series needs a performer who specializes in character sketch comedy, like Carol Burnett or Tracy Ullman. Unlike these women, and more like Jerry Seinfeld or Sandra Bernhard, DeGeneres is at her best when she's playing herself.
And that's exactly what Ellen is doing once again.
This time around, she's
Ellen Richmond, a dotcom executive who (in the series
pilot) returns to her
hometown to receive an award from her high school in
recognition of her success in the business world. When
her Los Angeles-based company tanks while she's at
home, she decides to extend her visit indefinitely and
move back in with her eccentric mother Dot (Cloris
Leachman) and younger sister Catherine (Emily
Rutherford). And, in case you were wondering, Ellen
Richmond, like Ellen Morgan, is also a lesbian.
But if your eyes are turned towards overt queer
representation on primetime
tv, don't expect a "very special episode" of The
Ellen Show any time soon. The pilot makes it clear
that "the gay thing" is no longer an issue. In other
words, CBS probably wanted it clear from the start
that this, unlike her previous series, is not a
"lesbian show," but a show in which the main character
just happens to be a lesbian -- an uneasy and unclear
difference to be sure. Consequently, Ellen's mother
and sister have no problem with Ellen's sexuality, nor
do her former high school teacher Mr. Munn (Martin
Mull) or her senior prom date Rusty (Jim Gaffigan). In
fact, Mr. Munn is so "okay" with it all that he wastes
no time trying to set Ellen up with Bunny, the
school's lesbian gym teacher (Diane Delano). Of
course, the all too easy joke here is that if there is
only one lesbian in a tiny town like Clark (other than
the newly arrived Ellen, that is), it's no surprise
she's the high school gym teacher, the most cliched of
all lesbian professions. I bet if Bunny were a gay
man, he would be the drama coach or the town florist.
If Ellen's first series was too gay for ABC, it
certainly wasn't for fans. And they will probably
think the new show is not gay enough, because her
sexuality seems so incidental (as opposed, for
instance, to her man-hungry sister). But that's no
surprise, considering CBS is playing it safe by
scheduling the series in a time slot (Friday nights,
8pm) when viewers are more apt to tune into
Sabrina, the Teenage Witch than Ellen, the
Thirtysomething Lesbian. Some may consider it a
sign of progress that CBS has even scheduled a
prime-time series centered around a lesbian before
9pm, even if her sexual orientation is a "non-issue."
But, in the case of The Ellen Show, the end
result is yet another formulaic, mediocre sitcom that
any comedian could have been easily plugged into. More
importantly, I don't think merely depicting our lives
in the same cartoonish, sitcom manner that our
heterosexual brothers and sister have been subjected
to for decades is what gay activists were fighting for
in their struggle for equality.
What I enjoy most about DeGeneres is her
self-deprecating style of humor, on which she
capitalized in her creation of Ellen Morgan. The first
Ellen was out of step with the world. She was
extremely self-conscious and suffered from bouts of
low-self esteem. She also found most social situations
awkward, even when they involved her family and close
friends. Yet, her nervous energy and the fun she
seemed to have while laughing at herself is what made
her so appealing.
More importantly, we witnessed something extremely
rare for a situation comedy: a television character
actually evolved over time, to the point where she not
only came out of the closet, but went on her first
date, and began her first relationship with a woman.
By comparison, Ellen Richmond is more confident and
worldly, with just a little hint of
self-consciousness. Once again, she is a
fish-out-of-water, but this time it's because she's is
not in synch with the simplicity and slow pace of
small town living. So the situation is now reversed.
Instead of identifying with Ellen's vulnerable side,
we find ourselves, like her, to be in the "superior"
position. Consequently, the humor consists of an
endless series of one-liners about Clark's size (i.e.,
everyone Ellen runs into knows what's going on in her
life), and usually at the expense of the other
characters, who seem more like Thornton Wilder
caricatures.
For example, Ellen's sweet, relatively naive sister
Catherine, who is desperate to land a husband (so much
for the show's sexual politics), is reduced to a
running joke as she flies after every single man that
crosses her path. The same goes for Ellen's daffy
mother, played by the terrific Cloris Leachman, who is
wasted in her very small role. Like the rest of Clark,
Dot lives in her own world, which makes it all the
more challenging for the sometimes verbally-impaired
Ellen to get her point across. But after one or two of
these mother-daughter moments, the routine starts to
wear thin.
The one glimmer of hope for the series lies in Ellen's
decision to accept a job at her old high school as a
guidance counselor. It not only gives the show's
writers the opportunity to introduce new characters
(maybe even another lesbian gym teacher?), but it can
move the show away from its "city girl vs. small town"
premise, which only limits DeGeneres' talents to
reacting to the absurdities of her surroundings. But
in its current Friday night slot, which makes the
chances of adding any romance into Ellen's life
virtually nil, the show's future looks grim. One can
only hope that when Ellen makes her next move, it will
be over to Showtime or HBO, where there's more room
for innovation and risk-taking, in original
programming where gay men and lesbians can actually
have sex lives.