Modern Family

You would think that the remaining sitcoms would be really good, but no. What’s truly remarkable is that almost every sitcom in existence is bad in one way or another. Even if there are plenty of decent jokes (“Better With You”), an original (if obnoxious) premise (“Outsourced,” “Raising Hope”), a great creator and cast (“Running Wilde”), there are still so many bad moments that they practically erase the good ones, leaving viewers queasy and ambivalent as the credits roll. Even though we can recognize, objectively, that the work of being funny and original is hopelessly difficult, even though we not-so-secretly envy and identify with those insecure narcissists in their writers’ room, since we’re all insecure narcissists these days and we’d all rather get paid 10 times more to paste Fiji bottle labels to the wall than do actual work, that doesn’t change the ugly truth: These new sitcoms that we struggle to rally around each fall are just not that entertaining, let alone that funny.

The comedies that are firing on all pistons these days — “30 Rock,” “Parks and Recreation,” “The Office,” “Community” — are working because the writers don’t mistake the show’s premise for its stories. Watch “Running Wilde” or “Raising Hope” or “Outsourced,” and in every single scene you’re reminded of the main idea of the whole show. Guy uncertain how to woo girl. Guy uncertain how to raise baby. Guy uncertain how to manage stereotypical foreign peoples. After three or four episodes of this, no matter how witty the writing is, we don’t care anymore. There just aren’t enough great characters or intriguing situations to keep us hooked.

All of which makes the continued supremacy of ABC’s “Modern Family” (9 p.m. Wednesdays) as king of the current sitcom lineup all the more impressive. Against a backdrop of haphazard, unremarkable shows and a handful of reasonably consistent standouts, “Modern Family” demonstrates the enormous comedic possibilities that spring out of simply honoring your characters, and adding new, believable layers to those characters as your show matures. In its second season (which easily stands up to the brilliance of the first), each character on “Modern Family” is idiosyncratic but still real, and show creators Steven Levitan and Christopher Lloyd work hard to find new ways to reveal each character’s particular quirks. Take patriarch Jay (Ed O’Neill) and his much younger Colombian wife, Gloria (Sofia Vergara). Instead of dwelling on their most obvious traits — her hotness and their age difference — the writers locate the cultural disconnect between Jay and Gloria and exploit it brilliantly. In a recent episode, when the neighbor’s constantly barking dog disappears, Jay becomes suspicious that Gloria might have done something brutal to the animal.

Jay: (to camera) Gloria’s grandfathers and uncles were butchers, so she’s always had a certain comfort level when it comes to … killing. One time we had this rat …

We cut to Gloria, wearing a pretty white lace dress, holding a shovel, as Jay cowers nearby.

Gloria: Whaaat? First you smash it (slams shovel to the ground on unseen rat), then you cut the head off. (Turns shovel and makes cutting motion while Jay flinches.)

Jay: (voice-over) It was like nothing to her.

Gloria: (handing Jay the shovel) I go to church now.

Jay: (to camera) She left the head out there to send a message to the other rats.

Likewise, gay couple Cameron (Eric Stonestreet) and Mitchell (Jesse Tyler Ferguson) keep us interested not by spewing a steady stream of “we’re gay!” jokes like they might on other shows, but by taking pains to politely tolerate each other’s flaws and sidestep conflict like all couples do. When Mitchell gushes about building their adopted daughter, Lily, a princess playhouse, Cameron explains to the camera that Mitchell has a bad habit of injuring himself and others when power tools are involved. “If an accident does happen, I hope he kills me,” Cameron tells the camera, “because I don’t think I would be a very inspiring disabled person.” Later, Mitchell enlists his dad Jay’s help in building the castle.

Mitchell: Remember how much fun we had putting that bookshelf together?

Jay: (to camera) That was my Vietnam. And I was in Vietnam.

Of course the show’s writers take plenty of comedic advantage of the fact that Cameron and Mitchell are gay — they just do it with relatable or familiar situations, or by highlighting the generation gap between Jay and his son. And almost any scene with Jay and his son-in-law Cameron is memorable, simply because Stonestreet’s depiction of Cameron’s very gentle awareness raising is so sweet and spot-on, while O’Neill’s grumpy straight patriarch walks the perfect line between macho buffoonery and a very earnest desire to get up to speed with the changing times.

The couple also presents the perfect opportunity to deconstruct the precious, oppressively p.c. realm of liberal parenting while simultaneously underscoring the ignorance that’s still afoot. In a recent episode, Cameron and Mitchell are told that being gay dads with a Vietnamese adopted daughter will make Lily a shoe-in at the prestigious Billingsley Academy preschool. They’re feeling pretty smug about their chances while waiting for their interview, until they spot their competition: a lesbian couple, one of whom is in a wheelchair, with an adopted son from Africa. “Disabled interracial lesbians with an African kicker!” Cameron gasps.

During their interview, Cameron pretends he’s an American Indian out of desperation. “The tribe elders foretold that, though I lay with fire-haired man,” he says, gesturing toward Mitchell, “the Giving Hawk would bring us baby, with her skin the color of sweet corn, which my people call maize.” Stupid and goofy, sure, but this is the flavor of stupid and goofy that, against a backdrop of sharp cultural commentary, hits the spot.

In another episode, though, Cameron gets Lily a spot in a TV furniture ad, only to find that there’s a woman doing a cartoonish Japanese voice-over every time she and another Asian child appear on-screen. “Lily is Vietnamese, not Japanese, but you wouldn’t know that,” Cameron tells the director, “because you’re only interested in seeing these children as interchangeable stereotypes, not human beings!” Then Cameron marches over and picks up the wrong kid.

The show’s most traditional family, the Dunphys, might seem relatively pedestrian compared to Jay and Gloria and Manny (Rico Rodgriguez) or Cameron and Mitchell, but Ty Burrell is so absurdly good as self-congratulatory loser-dad Phil Dunphy that there’s a built-in safety net with any of their storylines. Likewise, every time Haley’s (Sarah Hyland) hapless boyfriend Dylan (Reid Ewing) enters the picture, things liven up. One day when Claire (Julie Bowen) is sick with a cold, Phil warns Dylan, “Don’t get too close to my wife.” Dylan responds in shock, “Haley told you about that? It was just a dream!”

Just as the writers use Cameron and Mitchell to capture the absurdities of hothouse-flower parenting of small children, they use Phil and Claire not only to demonstrate the perils of raising bigger kids, but also to capture the existential dread that creeps in once your kids get older.

Claire: A minute ago, they were babies. Now they’re driving. And soon, we’ll be dead.

Phil: Whoa! You’re leaving out a few great minutes there! Retirement, old age, a cool chair that goes up the stairs!

Claire: I’m sorry, I’m being ridiculous.

Phil: Don’t apologize! I love you when you’re human.

Even though “Modern Family” features imaginative storytelling and vivid, layered characters that hold our attention week after week, every one of its characters is human, first and foremost. Rather than delivering up cartoonish stereotypes, “Modern Family” offers us thoughtful characters whose flaws and prejudices are balanced out by a glimpse of their big-hearted urges and pure intentions. They’re hapless, smug, confused, pathetic and human — and we love them for it.

Few TV dramas have done justice to the pleasures and pains of raising kids. “Six Feet Under” touched on the feeling of being out of touch with and disempowered by your children – first in the form of Ruth Fisher (Frances Conroy), a passive-aggressive controlling mom who struggled sweetly to find some way to connect with her smart, headstrong children, then, in Nate’s (Peter Krause) attempts to battle his own avoidance and controlling urges with his daughter. ABC’s “Brothers & Sisters” took these challenges and translated them into an idealized world of open, honest conversations ending in hugging, learning big important lessons and impromptu slow-dancing as a family. If this warm, fuzzy wonderland didn’t feel like a fantasy to you, then please let me into your family immediately — once I stop wretching, anyway.

NBC’s “Parenthood” (10 p.m. Tuesdays) tries to offer a middle ground between these two extremes, demonstrating the frustrations of parenting, but leavening it with moments of awkward connection, goofiness, relief and joy. Unfortunately, getting this mix just right is never easy. Somehow, when it comes to parenting and family, shows that are outwardly dark (“Six Feet Under,” “The Sopranos”) or consistently light (“Modern Family,” “The Middle”) appeal to audiences much more than those that try to mix the two. Just as with real parenting, finding some balance in portrayals of parenting is nearly impossible. More often than not you fall into bleakness and pessimism, then pull yourself out of it with laughter, deep sighs and a strong drink as the sun sets.

Peter Krause is a good start as harried dad Adam Braverman. Krause has a knack for playing the overly intense control freak — something in the way Adam clenches his jaw and bugs his eyes out in spite of his easygoing surface demeanor speaks volumes about his inability to control his emotional investment in every little aspect of his son Max’s (Max Burkholder) behavior. His dad, Zeek (Craig T. Nelson), wears his more aggressive approach on his sleeve, openly coaching Max while Adam struggles to coach Zeek on how to coach Max.

Zeek: You weren’t any different. You had to get over your fear, too.

Adam: We’re not raising him the way that you raised us, all right?

Zeek: Oh, OK. What’s that supposed to mean?

Adam: It means I don’t want him to feel like everything in life is a war.

Zeek: (Sighs.) Oh, sonny. It is a war.

For a pilot to get straight to this clash between a parent’s and a son’s perspective over how a kid should be raised is impressive, with or without the smart, funny 1989 movie starring Steve Martin as its precursor. That the scene is handled with just enough contempt mixed with polite restraint is a testament to the director’s and producers’ hard work in finding the right emotional tone between too harsh and too idealized. (In the original pilot, this scene was a shouting match that came off as far less interesting and revealed less of their relationship.)

Although the dynamics between Zeek and Adam are more nuanced than they were in the original pilot, other aspects of “Parenthood” are kinder and gentler to the point of feeling forced. Where the pilot felt scrappy, slightly harsh and occasionally very dark, the series tries to maintain a lighthearted, wacky mood that doesn’t always match the characters and stories involved. Yes, Sarah (Lauren Graham) has two angry teenage kids, a drunk ex and no job. But look how silly and self-deprecating she is at the interview for the job she doesn’t get! Yes, Adam and his wife are worried that son Max has Asperger’s, but look at kooky Adam, chasing a possum around in his backyard!

Real parents may have little interest in riding this roller coaster in the rare moments that they’re allowed to relax, by themselves, without children around. At 10 p.m. on a Tuesday night, after a long day of dealing with your own crazy kids, do you really want to watch a married couple learn that their son has Asperger’s? Even if the next scene features Dad’s siblings cracking up and sharing a joint, that doesn’t help — in fact, it rings a little false, like those parents who repeat that their kids are a “true blessing” in the breaks between shouting harsh words at them.

The most disconcerting change, for those of us who saw the original pilot of this show last fall, is the replacement of Maura Tierney with Lauren Graham in the role of Sarah. I’d never taken much notice of Tierney before, but she brought a lot of warmth and vulnerability to Sarah, the 38-year-old single mom whose life has been a series of reckless choices and haunting regrets. Graham plays Sarah with much more humor and harried-mom shtick, and though Graham is of course fantastic and has great timing, it’s really sad that Tierney’s breast cancer robbed her of such a wonderful role. And Tierney vacating this role robs “Parenthood” of a lot of weight. More than any other actor on the show, Tierney had a way of balancing the gravity and levity of parenting in a way that felt organic, rather than manic.

Even as the TV landscape changes by the minute, you have to wonder why a network drama about domestic life can’t quite touch the same darkness that it might on a cable or premium cable channel. The networks are obviously afraid of a harsh portrayal of parenting, but what they end up with — sugarcoated heaviness — isn’t a solution, and it’s destined to alienate viewers much more than the shadows and low moments of a show like “Six Feet Under” ever would.

So what does work, as far as network family shows go? Five years ago no one would think the answer would be “sitcoms,” so tired and stale was the old formula of goofy dad, nagging mom and adorable, supernaturally clever kids gathered around the couch. But thanks to ABC’s “Modern Family” (9 p.m. Wednesdays), somehow, some way, the domestic comedy has been revived from its half-dead state and transformed into a thing of true beauty.

If you aren’t watching this show yet, trust me, you should be. From the cool-dad foolishness of Phil Dunphy (Ty Burrell) to the eye-rolling spats between Cam (Eric Stonestreet) and Mitchell (Jesse Tyler Ferguson) to the gruffly lovable weirdness of Jay (Ed O’Neill), this show features wall-to-wall great moments and hilarious lines.

My favorite character of all, though, is weird little gentleman Manny (Rico Rodriguez). Somehow the interplay between the babying of his Colombian hottie mom Gloria (Sofia Vergara) and the tough love of grumpy older dad Jay works in each and every scene. How could you not love writing over-the-top scenes for these three? This week, Jay accidentally kills Manny’s turtle, but lies and says that a raccoon jumped in the window and killed it (after making little, muddy stuffed-animal footprints down the wall and across the carpet).

Gloria: You lie. I’m Colombian, I know a fake crime scene when I see one.

Jay: I was hanging up the new poster, and it fell on top of him. It was an accident.

Gloria: You have to tell him.

Jay: No, I’ve been through this before. When Mitchell was 9, I was supposed to take care of his bird. It got out and flew into a fan. It was like a bloody pillow fight. To this day, Mitchell looks at me, I see him thinking, “That’s the guy that killed Fly-za Minnelli.”

Gloria: Fly-za Minnelli?

Jay: How did I not know that kid was gay?

The memorial for Manny’s turtle is priceless (“Turtle, reptile, pet, Shel Turtlestein was many things,” his homage begins), but then almost every single line of “Modern Family,” every story, is pure genius. Why settle for a full hour of lukewarm drama about parenting, when you can savor a funny but still heartfelt half-hour instead?

What “Modern Family” really nails, though, is the way real parents experience the highs of parenting. It’s not about chasing possums through the yard or making jokes with your siblings then clinking glasses of red wine. The real moments of sweetness and gratitude come when everything is going to hell around you. Even as the chaos unfolds before your eyes, even as you’re flooded by the noise and the conflict and the little battles and the mess, the soundtrack changes for a minute. You take in the madness from a distance and think: This is what it’s all about.

Then someone throws up on your pants.