30 Rock and Feminism

Sure, 30 Rock has feminist implications, especially for the essentialist who looks at Tina Fey’s role as creator, writer, producer and star, as progress for (white/straight) women in the male-dominated field of comedy TV. However, I think we must probe deeper to consider how 30 Rock represented gender and race, and moreover, how it participated in the legacy of TV shows centered on strong female characters. Furthermore, 30 Rock is NOT a depiction of today’s modern women. Liz Lemon’s life is hardly typical of the female experience, as she is very white, very hetero, middle class, and works in an industry known for being a boys club: television sketch comedy. Yet, 30 Rock certainly engages with feminist discourse. Fey’s position as a feminist is also pretty well known, and the show plays with this, from the moment Baldwin’s character Jack Donaghy meets Fey’s character Liz Lemon in the pilot, and calls her a third-wave feminist. My own feminist reading of 30 Rock is one of my primary sources of pleasure in the show, however, if we allow for polysemy, this reading is not guaranteed. Indeed, it may not even be the dominant one. I was visiting family members once, observed their love of Jack Donaghy’s character, and realized how comforting and familiar the extremity of Donaghy’s hegemonic yet also ironic sexism, racism, and classism might be for viewers to embrace. I am, thus, critical of 30 Rock‘s feminist implications, and argue that 30 Rock‘s legacy has been to discipline the female-centered work place comedy in two ways. First, by downplaying the fact that it is a female-centered program, and also by consistently disciplining feminist characters in the show.

30 Rock obscures the prominence of its female-lead by the very choice of its title, 30 Rock, which is of course shorthand for NBC’s home in New York City. In the past, TV shows built around a single, independent working woman highlighted the female character in the title: The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Murphy Brown, Ally McBeal.  It also downplays its position as a female-centered workplace comedy by not really being a female-centered show. 30 Rock is often discussed as Tina Fey’s TV show, or characterized through descriptions of Liz Lemon as its lead character. Do not be deceived. In many ways, this is really Alec Baldwin’s TV show.

Sure, Mary Richards centrality was perhaps tempered by her close relationship with Lou Grant, but that does not compare to the way Baldwin consistently steals the show, both discursively with critics and literally in the narrative arcs of most episodes. Baldwin’s character most often works to disciplines feminist characters, as we consistently see him mock Lemon, and others, for their character’s feminist inclinations. The show also mocks Lemon and feminism most overtly in its use of the postfeminist consequence trope, where we see Liz Lemon constructed throughout the series as unhappy and unfulfilled, while her drive to succeed has delimited her ability to be satisfied in personal relationships or have children.

Perhaps this is why Tina Fey’s celebrity text can function as cultural shorthand for unhappy singletons, as we see in this video. The fact that Lemon is married with two kids by the end of the series also shifts the work-centered premise of the show in many ways, and points perhaps to the ultimate disciplining of the single, independent woman. 30 Rock is satire, and her marriage/children are nontraditional in many ways (Princess Leia wedding dress!), yet I think this part of 30 Rock‘s conclusion works, overall, to reinforce hegemonic hetero gender roles.

This is not to say that 30 Rock does not also engage with feminist topics in other ways. For instance, a recent episode had a scene at a Lifetime Women’s Award Show where an all-female setting opened up a discussion on whether (straight) women should define themselves through their relationships with men. However, given 30 Rock‘s position, as a satire that is so playful, this scene is opened to ridicule by the tenor of 30 Rock‘s style. This scene at a (fake) Lifetime Award show also points to how 30 Rock‘s show-within-a-show format encourages a great deal of self reflexivity and satire of the television industry.

30 Rock and self-reflexivity

One of the rare TGS skits we get to see, bears attacking a robot!

TV comedy can be a difficult thing to make sense of, because satire is open to interpretation beyond producerly intent. One of 30 Rock‘s contributions to TV is its modification of the show-within-a-show format that we have seen before in The Jack Benny Show, The Dick Van Dyke Show, and Seinfeld, among others. In 30 Rock, as in other shows, the show-within-a-show format encourages parody of the entertainment industry, whilst being complicit in the entertainment industry it satirizes, which we see in 30 Rock’s self-effacing portrayal of  its successive parent companies. The self-reflexivity in 30 Rock specifically reflects on sketch comedy programs.  It features a quick-editing, over-the-top acting, absurd plotlines, frequent flashbacks, and narrative tangents that seemingly mimic the truncated structure and hyperbolic style of sketch-comedy shows.  Yet, 30 Rock’s sketch comedy show is merely the MacGuffin that drives the program’s plot.  We rarely see TGS sketch comedy skits, and when they appear we usually see only parts of the sketches, often in the background of other scenes. It is irrelevant whether we actually see the skits, though, as they are never funny.  The vapid and superficial humor on TGS represents popular criticisms of television: its stupidity, mindlessness, and narcissism. Here, 30 Rock positions itself next to TGS as an example of bad television to assert 30 Rock’s quality as good television. 30 Rock’s show-within-a-show format also allows a level of identity performativity, which at times plays with racial, gender, class and other representations. Thus, we can see, at least partially, how 30 Rock‘s legacy to comedy television is also a reconfiguration of the show-within-a-show model.

Certainly, there is more to 30 Rock, more that it contributes to feminist discourse, satire TV, experimental TV (remember its two live shows?) and beyond. This post could be part of a series on the cultural legacy of 30 Rock, which may satisfy those 30 Rock fans still craving more Liz Lemon. In lieu of such a column, we can but wait for a 30 Rock reunion show.

Before the Super Bowl aired this past Sunday, host network NBC aired this gem of a promotional video.  (Go ahead and watch it if you haven’t already, or again.  I’ll wait.)

As Josef Adalian notes, this type of rousing “all hands on deck” campaign used to be de rigeur for networks from the 1970s to the 1990s, but its use here highlights what I see as one of NBC’s greatest strengths, and also its potential weakness.

To my mind, this number beautifully sums up what sets NBC apart from its broadcast competitors: the sense that all the folks at NBC are really just one big, happy family.  Even in the face of lagging ratings (they’re in a tie for fourth with Univision, at last count), an inability to find a hit, and faint praise for their entertainment chairman (“when you’re heading up the last-place network, the only direction to go is up”) who concedes that the network “had a really bad fall,” audiences, advertisers, and investors alike are still intrigued by the peacock network.  But why?

In part, I would argue, it’s due to NBC’s lasting image–and one they continue to bank on–evidenced in the “Brotherhood of Man” spot.  NBC still seems like the broadcast network of yore, one more closely resembling the Hollywood studio system than contemporary niche-marketed television.  The sort of place where everyone looks sort of familiar, because you’ve seen them (likely on another NBC series) before.  The sort of environment in which you can imagine the network’s stars getting together for lunch, or cracking jokes together in the hallways. This is not a new strategy, of course–one can recall with relative ease the “Must-See TV” crossover nights of the 1990s, and the fact that NBC stars of the era tended to move on to…other NBC series.  Seeing Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and Will Arnett move across the weekly schedule feels like part of the NBC legacy, ultimately, and knowing that so many current NBC stars are actually friends behind the scenes works to cement this notion in audiences.

Or maybe it’s because NBC is so firmly associated with New York’s 30 Rock (the place, not the series).  From The Today Show to Brian Williams’ Rock Center to the eponymous series, Rockefeller Plaza has become the physical and emotional home of the network, with the result that it’s not difficult to imagine Kristen Wiig, Jimmy Fallon, Ann Curry, and Bob Harper dancing around outside the building.  All of this combines to delight audiences, prompting tweets like, “NBC shows singing Brotherhood of Man gave me chills! I love this so much!” and “This is what my dreams look like.”  And, perhaps my personal favorite, “Guys remember that time all the best NBC shows got together and sang Brotherhood of Man and I basically died? Me too.”

But NBC’s reliance on this image might be its albatross rather than its saving grace.  As Myles McNutt has argued here on Antenna, the network’s reluctance to move beyond its own legacy is actually holding it back.  As Jason Mittell pointed out to me when I posted the video to Facebook, the fact that “Brotherhood of Man” is centered so firmly around 30 Rock (the series, not the place) overestimates the series’ popularity.  Indeed, the poorly rated series proves the point, exemplifying NBC’s “we’re all friends here” sensibility in the form of longtime NBC-friendly personalities (Tina Fey, Alec Baldwin, Tracy Morgan) while overlooking the fact that the show (and the network) are in some fairly serious trouble according to traditional metrics.

Nonetheless, the video reveals what I see as the fundamental strength of the network–the fact that, as the song goes, these stars truly are “proud to be…right here on NBC.”  The song’s actual lyrics in that moment are “proud to be…in that fraternity,” which I would contend is also an apt metaphor for the insidery network.  And as thrilled as the stars are, many audience members are equally happy to see them hanging out together enjoying one another’s company.  As one Tweeter commented, “Now this is a frat I’d pledge.”  Indeed.  And the network is banking on the fact that our desire to join the party will keep us coming back as they struggle to regain a spot at the top.

Self-referentiality is a staple of 30 Rock‘s satire. Yet, I almost needed a “drop” and a spinning top to resurface from this live episode’s multi-layered meta-humor. The levels of satire unique to this live episode are not neutral self-referential gags. This play with 30 Rock‘s bounded structure is predicated, mainly, on gendered and racial dimensions. The show’s season-high level of viewers implicates the material cultural significance of 30 Rock‘s live episode.

30 Rock is certainly not the first scripted prime-time show to employ the “live-show” stunt (remember those live episodes of ER and Will & Grace?). However, critics have suggested that 30 Rock is comparatively a more appropriate show for a live episode. This notes Tina Fey’s background as a former SNL headwriter and 30 Rock‘s show-within-a-show premise and visual organization, although I would argue that 30 Rock constructs a skit comedy structure by editing in tangential scenes, a tactic made possible by the very fact that it is not a live show. Nevertheless, 30 Rock‘s integral relationship with live skit comedy cannot be overlooked.

The idea for this live episode originated during the 2007 Writer’s Guild Strike while the cast of 30 Rock performed live shows at the Upright Citizen’s Brigade theater. Two and a half years later, NBC announced on July 30th, 2010 that the upcoming fifth season would include a live episode, with a telecast of two versions: one for the East Coast and one for the West Coast. 30 Rock is usually shot on film, with one camera on a stage in Long Island City, Queens; however, sets and equipment were transported to 30 Rock‘s titular address at NBC Studios and the episode was filmed in typical live 3-camera set-up at SNL‘s home, Studio 8H.

Both real-time telecasts last Thursday employed several of 30 Rock‘s reoccurring themes to point to the show’s liveness. The live episode disciplines Liz’s errant femininity as it uses Julia Louis Dreyfus as a “hot-Liz-double” in tangential scenes Fey was unable to get to, and then references this as Jack tells Liz she looks better in her memory. Dreyfus’s performance of Liz employs racialized jokes about Jack’s male Indian-American secretary as she calls him a “Chai-boy” for the East Coast and “Aladdin” for the West. These performances are funny precisely because they point to the show’s liveness, and Dreyfus’s almost unreal and absurd exaggeration of Liz’s (racist) character.

30 Rock‘s altered live structure edits the diegetic FOX News skits and fake commercials into the show’s visual narrative, which showcases Tracy Jordan’s hyperbolic blackness through his “break” from a performance of Obama. This is visually emphasized as each version has a different FOX News caption under Tracy’s Obama that points both to the blackness of Obama Tracy and the liveness of the episode. The diegetic commercials undermine hegemonic masculinity through centralizing erectile dysfunction in Dr. Spacemen’s ad and the mutilation of ideal masculinity in Jon Hamm’s ad. The content of each commercial changes in 30 Rock‘ s two real-time episodes and colludes with “Technical Difficulty” interruptions to point to the liveness of the show, but the overall presentation of diminished manhood is the same. Jenna’s hyper-sexuality is racialized as she threatens to “slip-a-nip” live on TGS, clearly referencing both 30 Rock‘s liveness and Janet Jackson’s live Superbowl wardrobe malfunction.

There are certainly other significant points to be made about 30 Rock‘s live episode, such as NBC’s entire web page of “Live Episode” paratexts (you can take the trivia game on past live television or guess the differences between East and West Coast versions here). However, the most poignant moment of this episode was the insider reference to Rachel Dratch’s long absence on 30 Rock as Liz tells Dratch’s cleaning lady character Edwiga, “Haven’t seen you in a while.” This not only nods to Dratch’s 12 cameos in season one, but to her initial role on the pilot as Jenna DeCarlo – a character loosely based upon her history and friendship with Fey at Chicago’s Second City and SNL. The role was later changed to Jenna Maroney and cast with Jane Krakowski, suggesting that Dratch was replaced in favor of a more sexually appealing (less Jewish looking) actress. This contrasts with Dreyfus’s appropriate and even hot Jewishness,  which ultimately points to the limits of subversive satire amid 30 Rock‘s ambivalent hyperbolic racism and sexism.

Case in point, the last episode I saw included a line about Canadians not getting sarcasm since they (we) don’t have a sizeable Jewish population.

First, then, there’s the idea that we don’t get sarcasm, which plays into the tired notion of Canadians as simple beings, and forgets that a disproportionately large number of “American” comedians (who, it’s suggested, do get sarcasm) are Canadian (Seth Rogen, Mort Sahl, Eric McCormack, John Candy, Catherine O’Hara, Rick Moranis, Dan Aykroyd, Jim Carrey, Mike Myers, Will Arnett, Samantha Bee, Eugene Levy, and others come to mind). But this suggestion is so outlandish that I don’t think it’s fair to assume it was meant in any seriousness.

I do think it’s fair, though, to criticize the part of the joke that seemed to be the set-up: that Canada doesn’t have a large Jewish population. Not only does this suggest the writers’ ignorance of Canada (Leonard Cohen, Erving Goffman, Frank Gehry, Moshe Safdie, Naomi Klein, William Shatner, Jason and Ivan Reitman, and, again, Eugene Levy, Seth Rogen, and Rick Moranis come to mind. Indeed, Canada has the world’s fourth largest Jewish population), but it also jars uncomfortably with the joke’s attempt to share an insider moment with Jews.

Now, I’m aware in writing this that another famous Canadian Jewish comedian who could be added to either of the above lists is 30 Rock’s Executive Producer, Lorne Michaels. So perhaps I’m just another Canadian who doesn’t get the joke, but if it’s an insider joke, it’s not all that funny. Can’t we make insider jokes that don’t just perpetuate silly notions of Canadians (or of any other group, for that matter) in their base (“no Jews in Canada”), even if not in an outlandish punchline (“Canadians don’t get sarcasm”)?

That isn’t a rhetorical question. The answer is yes. And the evidence plays itself out on How I Met Your Mother, which is also fond of making Canadian jokes, but with wonderful inside knowledge. The writers clearly know their Vancouver Canucks, for instance. And when a stupid suggestion is made, it’s not from the value neutral position – it’s from the chauvinist Barney Stinson, and hence automatically framed and coded as unreliable, and more often a joke at the expense of American lack of knowledge of Canadians than a rehearsal of that ignorance.

Oh Canadian guy, get a grip, you might be thinking. But it points to a more general concern one might have for comedy about Others, since surely it doesn’t have to be based on ignorance.