When Fox dropped the ball in promoting Office Space -- perhaps viewing it as "just another" workplace comedy - they lacked the understanding that so many corporate work-monkeys knew well: there are Hollywoodized work offices, and then there is the real world. Our work places aren't usually stocked with a fully-functional laugh track, colorful (yet perfect-looking) characters with their Unique Individual Quirk, and outrageous situations that happens on a weekly basis and prevents us from ever doing a lick of work. Office Space was one of the first steps to saying, "That ain't how it is, Hoss" and then proceeded to show us a fluorescent-lit hell of mindless drones, insanely petty project demands, and impossible bosses giving worthless motivation. People watched, laughed and quoted it because that was more their world than any Newsradio, Drew Carey Show or Will and Grace. I'd also say Friends, but what characters ever worked on that show? Except Joey, of course, who was a part-time gigolo.
Then along came Ricky Gervais, who latched on to the idea of the modern love affair with reality TV and workplace documentaries, and dreamt up a concept so pure, so perfect, that it stunned everyone it hadn't been done before. He delivered two six-season episodes of The Office (plus a pair of Christmas specials) - a mockumentary that looked into the life and times of stationary products employees and their incredibly clueless boss. Using the Peter Principle ("Every employee rises to his level of incompetence"), Gervais portrayed a manager who had no right being anywhere near a managerial position, yet deluded himself that he was an excellent and popular boss. His underlings, of course, disagreed to themselves, toiling away in painful (mostly) silence.
I've seen the British series and liked it - you most definitely want to smack Gervais into oblivion after just ten minutes of hearing him prattle on. It's funny, but the majority of humor came from the agonizing pauses and silences, as Gervais and the others said and did things that regular-functioning human beings would find beyond tactless or idiotic. However, this being the corporate world, idiodicy is par for the course.
This is an environment of welcoming, and you should just get the hell outta here.
When Greg Daniels took the British series and adapted the concept for an American audience and setting, there was some concern. Chickens were sacrificed for their omen-illuminating blood, babies were born with webbed toes, the Democrats suddenly seemed like the "good guys", etc. Long story short, no cause for alarm. If anything, the U.S. version of The Office took the original version and ran with it like Forrest Gump with a sugar rush.
The U.S. version of The Office endured a mediocre six-episode first season, only to explode into glory during its second season's 22-episode run. Throwing out everything clichéd about workplace comedies, we finally got a show that told it more or less how it was. The full-of-himself boss. The seething yet impotent employees. The mind-numbing pointless work. The petty events and gossip that became the only important matters. The practical jokes. The thousands of strands of red tape and bureaucracy that shrouded every simple decision. It wasn't a false paradise of barely-disguised models snapping quippy one-liners to a live studio audience - this became the believable tale of the company next door and how they survived another work day without mass homicide.
The Office is filmed as a pure documentary (the only thing similar to it, but not quite, would be Arrested Development), which gives substance to its premise, with dozens of small, subtle differences from other sitcoms. You can see ceilings, people keep on working and doing things in the background (the cast spends each day filming pantomiming office work when they're not called to do lines for a scene), the awkward pauses, and the "talking heads" interviews. Most importantly, because it's filmed like this, you feel more invested in what's going on, as if you're the "other" office worker looking in on the proceedings. Many hilarious (and sometimes touching) moments are witnessed through windows, and the characters openly acknowledges that there's a camera in their midst.
Dwight thinks it's Friday... so that's what I'm going to be doing this afternoon.
You and I cannot have a reasonable discussion about The Office without first delving into the character of Michael Scott. In a casting stroke of genius, they landed Steve Carell (Anchorman, The 40-Year-Old Virgin) and his ability to deadpan the most ridiculous comments without breaking into laughter.
Michael Scott is a middle manager at Dunder-Mifflin, a company that specializes in the most boring of trades, paper sales. There, he lords over his small office as the worst type of boss: the buddy-buddy jokey type. You can see his employees deeply wishing they worked under the hard-ass, or the temper-tantrum guy, or the quietly competent leader, or even Donald Trump. Instead, Scott tests all their patience with a blend of crazy qualities. He thinks he's funny (he's not) and he can tell jokes that put everyone in stitches (he can't); he assumes that everyone loves him and wants to be his friend first and foremost (they don't); he is self-centered, extremely insecure, completely incompetent as a manager, and beyond all common sense and tact. He's the kind of guy who not only has a "World's Best Boss" coffee mug on his desk, but he bought it for himself.
Yet unlike Gervais' obnoxious manager - who really is without redeeming qualities - Michael has a lovable core somewhere deep inside of him. He's loyal to his employees, he's a veritable babe in the woods of adult relationships, and he honestly does try to be a "good" boss, even though those attempts end in hilarious failure. Giving us just enough of a reason not to hate him completely is why we can accept that this office hasn't risen up in a bloody revolt years earlier.
While many reviews of the show latch onto Michael Scott as the strongest attraction to the show, the truth is that The Office simply would not work without an equally strong supporting cast of characters that are anything but typical Hollywood sitcom. Pam (the adorably cute Jenna Fischer) is Michael's put-upon secretary, years draining away as she's too meek to make much of a stand against her idiot boss. Her only lifeline is Jim (everyman John Krasinski), who's just about the only "normal" person there, yet is also desperately in love with Pam (a secret love, since Pam is also in the third year of an engagement). To see their relationship -- a mixture of unrequited love and best friend connection -- blossom is one of the highlights of the show.
Jim's favorite pastime is to torment uptight Dwight (Rainn Wilson) with a series of practical jokes. Dwight, a guy who thinks nothing of bringing in a dead goose he found on the side of the road to clean and cook for lunch, most likely deserves them. He's a toady nerd who considers himself Michael's right-hand man (even though Michael despises him) and is intense about the dumbest things. The ongoing war between Jim and Dwight alone makes the show worth watching (my favorite is when Jim takes all of Dwight's personal effects and puts them into the vending machine, making Dwight buy them back with a jar of coins).
It's just, I don't think it's many girls' dream to be a receptionist.
As the seasons progress, the other workers at the office get more of a chance to develop their personalities: there's sleepy-eyed smelly Kevin, the boy-toy temp worker Ryan, pris-prim Angela, secretly-gay Oscar, hard-edged Creed, corporate boss Jan, motormouth Kelly, no-nonsense Stanley, motherly Phyllis, drunk Meredith, and so on. Like a true office, there's far more seething animosity than giddy friendships, but they often become united in their disdain for Michael.
It's no secret that corporate settings are completely artificial environments, bringing together people who would otherwise have nothing to do with each other, and plopping them into a room to see how they'll adapt. For the denziens of Dunder Mifflin, insanity leaks out in small, happy doses, and the workers latch onto anything new and interesting, no matter how small, to keep on going. On a given day you might have Michael giving an impromptu performance as "Prison Mike", Jim and Pam whipping everyone up for some Office Olympics, Dwight launching into a full-scale investigation of a half-smoked marijuana joint, or a bat coming along to make life even more hellish.
Unlike most sitcoms that pace their laughs out in a measured one-per-10-seconds, The Office prefers the "slow boil" approach. It's a lot of quirky scenes, some quiet, some frantic, but you never tend to see where the big laughs are coming from before they ambush you upside your head. It's funny in a different way than straight-out joke talking; some of the biggest laughs come from things as simple as facial expressions or creative camera focus. There's also a lot of running gags and callbacks that reward the attentive viewer (these also make the show highly rewatchable).
You might never want to work in The Office, but if you did, oh the stories you would have for your grandchildren. This is one show that isn't hard on the eyes.
