Seinfeld swings again, page 2
"Seinfeld" depicts New York City single life as Darwinism in action. The most important quality for survival in a society based on bewildering behavioral etiquette (the code of the date, the code of friendship, the code of saving seats in a movie theater) is the ability to fake it. But Jerry, George (Jason Alexander) and Elaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) are lousy fibbers whose lies usually blow up in their faces. They're obvious time bombs, and one of the show's consistent pleasures has been their slow march toward implosion.
Something happened to "Seinfeld" after its Emmy-winning '92-93 season, though; it kept stepping up for the big swing and choking. There was too much Kramer (Michael Richards may have won two Emmys, but his pratfalling hipster-dufus schtick was wearing thin), too many attempts to top "The Contest," the 1992 instant-classic masturbation episode, and not enough scripts written by Larry David (the author of "The Contest"), who had had a cooling off with Seinfeld.
Yet, even though "Seinfeld" was not in top form, it was never completely flat. Some episodes, like the one where Kramer and George's father (played by the admirably twisted Jerry Stiller) designed a bra for men, approached the earlier seasons' brilliant mesh of farce and bad behavior.
But the "What's wrong with 'Seinfeld'?" articles started appearing anyway. Entertainment Weekly fretted over the characters' "immaturity" and suggested they be given serious relationships, which is sort of like saying, "Gee, we love the Stooges' work, but we'd like to see them in more mature situations. Could you maybe make Moe a sensitive single dad?"
Strangely, though, "Seinfeld" took EW's suggestion. The current season's opener saw George, overcome by a desire to be "normal," propose to his humorless sometime-girlfriend Susan. But, true to form, Seinfeld and prodigal partner David have added a gratifyingly nasty undertone to the George-and-Susan angle, relentlessly dissecting the Relationship Code.
The engaged George is ridiculous. He prefers Jerry's company to Susan's, but he's too wimpy to break up with her. Instead, he goes around screaming,"She's killing Independent George!," while submitting to Susan's will. The depiction of George in monogamy prison (in a recent closing credit, George sulks and Susan smiles contentedly while they watch "Mad About You" in bed) is harsh, but it's also excruciatingly funny.
As George plods toward the altar, Jerry is becoming even more resolute in his finicky bachelorhood, dumping girlfriends for increasingly petty reasons -- this one eats peas in a weird way, this one is too nice. It's not fear of commitment that keeps Jerry a loner, it's his commitment to fear of commitment.
And Elaine is having her best season yet, maybe because the show includes more women producers this year. All of Elaine's behavioral patterns -- the delusional view of herself as honest and compassionate, the killer instinct for screwing her fellow New Yorkers -- came together a couple of weeks ago in "The Sponge," when she bought up every remaining Today contraceptive sponge in New York City (they've been taken off the market) and then hoarded them spinsterishly, rather than waste them on a partner who may not be truly "spongeworthy."
Elaine's egotism, George's cowardice, Jerry's persnicketyness, Kramer's Kramerness -- the interplay between them still makes "Seinfeld" hum. Give the show a break and admire the streak; merely funny is still damned funny and, look, Ripken doesn't hit a homer every time, either.
Joyce Millman says that this season of Seinfeld is proof the show can still "hit it out of the park." How do you think soup Nazis and sponge hoarding stack up against the series in its glory years? And is it even worth asking for deeper character growth in a sitcom? SALON members are speaking out in the Seinfeld topic in Table Talk's television category. (Register first if you haven't already done so.)
