Not Everybody

I ran into a former colleague of mine at the local Trader Joe's (which says a lot about our mutual career trajectories, that we were doing our own shopping on Friday afternoons when we used to be in control rooms monitoring sitcom production). But hey, sic semper gloria and all that crap. Not the point. In the conversation he mentioned the sitcom "Everybody Loves Raymond," which he claimed was the greatest one ever. I raised my eyebrows at this, given that he himself worked on some comedies with much stronger writing and more colorful characters.

It's worth a mention because today marked the final taping of "Everybody Loves Raymond," an event even noted on the morning news. This was not accompanied by the same fanfare as the conclusion of "Friends" last year, but there will be some instances of mourning among its adherents, of which I never was one. I know friends who swear by it, and others who shrug, like myself. Of course senses of humor are subjective; what I wonder is why I never caught onto its charms.

Did I miss something? The interplay of family guilt and sibling rivalry is good comedy fodder, I admit, and "Raymond's" fans attest religiously to its hilarity. I always thought the jokes were telegraphed from a continent away, and usually with such flatfooted delivery that you could fairly hear the rim-shot. But these usually were the fault of the two male stand-ups, Ray Romano and Brad Garrett, who declaimed their dialogue rather than acting it. The three other regulars, Patricia Heaton, Peter Boyle and especially Doris Roberts--a distaff Tom Poston--all trained comic actors, performed better. I've screened episodes for Emmy consideration and was usually bewildered at why the show earned such high regard. A two-parter about a trip to Italy was singularly unfunny. Another, about a sculpture that Marie made that resembled a...uh...twat, was an intriguing set-up but restrained in its execution. (It reminded me of the nude Laura Petrie portrait tale on The "Dick Van Dyke Show," from which all today's sitcom stories have descended, like from the African mitochondrial Eve).

The popularity of the show has guaranteed a long syndie run and gobs of change for Romano, whose movie career stalled after "Welcome to Mooseport" and might fare better as a voice-over character actor. (How many of these successful stand-up/sitcom stars have thrived after their TV run? Will Seinfeld ever bother to make a movie?) . But what this does for me is provide an opportunity to "re"discover the show in reruns, and give it another shake. An episode I watched this week was promising. Ray is stuck on a cruise ship cabin with his mother, when the cruise director visits with a list of activities. Ray reads it and says, "Skeet shooting sounds good. Sign me up as the skeet." I laughed out loud, which I rarely do, so "Raymond" finally gets some points with me. Now if I wish to self-indulge I can experience practically the entire run of the show as if it is new. Perhaps in my dotage the laconic style of humor will appeal more.

If not, there's always "The Simpsons."