It was never a show about nothing. It was always about the things that mattered -- food, sex and TV (preferably all together).
For nine years, the "Seinfeld" crew of Jerry, George, Elaine and Kramer walked us through their own little world of talkers: low-talkers, high-talkers, close-talkers and those who just "yada yada." They dissected the minutiae of everyday life and proved that a sitcom can survive and thrive without clearly defined plotlines or any Very Special Episodes.
It paved the way for shows that would have never seen the light of primetime before it, such as "Friends," "Mad About You," "Drew Carey" and the viciously funny "News Radio." It moved the sitcom from the suburbs to the city, from family or work-based situations to friends hanging out, from people we adored to people we deplored.
"Seinfeld" saved the ailing sitcom format, which had fallen into a creative rut in the late 1980s and early 1990s ("Growing Pains," "Who's the Boss?," "Full House"). No more contrived plotlines surrounding dead pets that need to be replaced or the token bulimia episode. It didn't even have a Christmas episode, offering in its place a "Festivus for the rest of us."
The show gave us subversively contrived plots surrounding exclamation points, nose-picking, exposed nipples and waiting for a table at a Chinese restaurant. It would have four plotlines at once, and make them all converge at the end with sometimes hilarious, sometimes forced results. It was never the most consistent of shows, but the shows that worked were so brilliantly written, executed and hit-the-floor-hilarious that they far outweighed the bombs.
"The Cosby Show," with its utopian vision of the perfect wealthy family, will be remembered as the definitive show of the naively innocent 1980s. The bitter, petty "Seinfeld" will hold that title for the cynical 1990s. And "Cheers," with its bar full of mean people who care, will have the distinction of bridging the gap.
Archie Bunker was always the butt of the joke, Dan Fielding always got his one-uppance and Alex P. Keaton would always have to apologize. But with "Seinfeld," the bad guys prevailed. The show glorified the conniving, back-stabbing antics of a bunch of neurotic, petty characters, and never once apologized for them. If Skippy Handleman had tried to tag along with these four, he would have ended every day in tears.
They ringed laughs out of a bubble boy, the handicap, an old man's stroke, the deaf, the blind and, in its ultimate mean spirited gag, the death of George's fiance, which only received a sympathetic shrug from the four.
Jerry, who began the series as the mature one soon became the meanest of them all. He would dump women for having man-hands, for suspiciously perfect breasts, for liking Dockers ads, for borrowing his toothbrush and for being just too darn nice ("Where's the depravity?").
The show had one mantra -- "no learning, no hugging" -- and it held to it. No one grew on the show, George always remained a "short, stalky, slow-witted bald man" who lied pathologically and dreamed of being an architect. Elaine always cared more about her own immediate needs than a long term relationship or the political causes she enthusiastically championed then quickly forgot.
"Seinfeld" reached a point where, like the greatest of all television shows, the characters seemed to write themselves. It was as if the writers created a situation, then simply let their alter egos loose to explore them. And over the past few seasons, these characters are all the show really had going for it. Creative plotlines began to dry up, and those gems which made us withstand the duds were fewer and far between. No one expected the show, or any other show for that matter, to ever reach the quality it turned out in its fourth season, which gave us "The Contest," "The Outing," "The Pick" and more, but we hoped for a few pieces of genius to keep us watching.
Last season had some highlights with "The Bizarro Jerry," "The Kicks" (in which Elaine's hideous dancing took the spotlight) and "The Yada Yada," but this season has given us little to remember it by.
The laughs began coming from the bit players instead of the foursome. Puddy and J. Peterman (who should both get a spin-off as mismatched roommates) got the biggest laughs with their dim-witted macho delivery. Kramer's schemes became too silly, Jerry and Elaine became a little too mean, and George became too redundant.
In one recent episode, Jerry taught George how to leave them wanting more, and that is why he ended the show at this point, where it is still the highest-rated sitcom on television. But maybe it has already gone one season too far.
The show will be sorely missed, it was always a quirky, malevolent little treat in a television universe filled with people trying to win our affections. When it ends tonight, one can only hope that it doesn't try for too much, as many of its one-hour episodes have -- which almost all stunk.
Instead, we only hope that it is one more brilliant gem, filled with petty disputes, amusing observations and wild coincidences. Just one more hilarious hour to leave us remembering what it was that made "Seinfeld" the best show of the decade.
And as always, no learning, no hugging.
