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There are actually
several problems I have with the now long-cancelled The Cleveland Show—the ungainly third child in the Seth MacFarlane
stable of animated adult cartoons that all share one universe (confirmed by
that episode where they all got hit by the same hurricane). There are some
obvious issues I could point to—that this is a show about black characters
created by three white dudes, or that like all MacFarlane Brand Programming The Cleveland Show has major issues with
trans people but, somehow, to an even greater degree than Family Guy or American Dad!,
which only manage to be all “ewww gross trans people” every so often instead of
what seems like every other episode in the case of this show. I feel like those
particular issues are pretty glaring, though, and my actual, real,
deepest-seated problem with The Cleveland
Show does not have anything to do with social justice.
My beef with The
Cleveland Show is that it squandered its potential.
John McWhorter once described The Cleveland Show as “basically Family Guy in blackface,” and I think that is a pretty apt
assessment of the creativity on display there.[1] This is not to say that I
think The Cleveland Show has no
redeeming qualities. It still manages to be the sort of bad
funny/not-all-that-funny that I will watch consistently whenever I have nothing
better to do and it is already on television. Low effort for the occasional
laugh. The series does unabashedly follow the Seth MacFarlane Formula For
Comedic Success (Maybe), however, with talking animals, a precocious child
character, and oddly catchy musical numbers.[2] In fact, so closely following
this mold is how The Cleveland Show fails
to make good on its initial promise.
When Cleveland leaves Quahog for California to pursue his
dream job as a minor league baseball scout he gets sidetracked in his hometown
of Stoolbend, Virginia when he runs into an old love, Donna Tubbs, who has two
rambunctious children, a deadbeat ex-husband, and finds that she has strong
feelings for Cleveland as he, over the course of the pilot, helps out with the
kids and generally proves himself to be a nice sort of fellow. Donna and
Cleveland fall in love and get married… and then the show really begins and
what we actually end up with is the same family dynamic as Family Guy and American Dad!—namely
a husband-wife duo who give us the same old “women do X but men do Y!” bits that
we have seen trotted out over and over again in sitcoms. The pilot suggests
that Cleveland is a handy father (good with kids and whatnot), but then we
still get the same stories down the road where he plays the part of a goofy,
incapable, irresponsible man-child. Donna is the love of his life, but then we
get the same old man-is-tired-of-his-nagging-wife plots where, say, Cleveland
fakes being deaf to avoid having to listen to Donna talk. This is a comedy, so
nobody was expecting an idyll, but this shameless re-hashing of the same
dynamic and jokes suggests that the writers had no idea how to deal with a
husband-wife pairing other than to shoehorn in the same tired tropes for both
the man and his spouse. We talk a lot about damaging tropes for women in pop culture,
but one for men that I know I am thoroughly sick of is that of the negligent,
goofy father who does not understand his kids (at best) or completely,
accidentally, humorously(!) neglects them (at worst). In fact, the general
atmosphere of “idiot, clueless man” that permeates a lot of shows or ads that
also pull the old “women do X…” etc. trick bothers me.
If the character of Cleveland was only this trope, that would be one thing, but the show also
faithfully copies and pastes the same all-over-the-place characterization used
in the fathers in the other two series. Just like Stan and Peter, Cleveland’s
personality and character vary wildly from episode to episode. Sometimes he is the loving husband and capable
father, and sometimes he is an utter child or irrationally, ridiculously
dismissive of his wife, children, and responsibilities. Donna fares little
better. She shares many similarities with Lois and Francine: All of them are
cast as pleased domestics at points who occasionally try to jumpstart other
careers with the grudging support of their husbands. They are all good in a
fight and have some kind of sordid past that is casually alluded to for… humor.
Look, the juxtaposition of housewife with “good in a fight” works. It is funny—just not when you reproduce the
exact same thing three times over and call it a day.
Donna, Cleveland, Peter, Lois, Stan, and Francine are not
characters: They are comedy vehicles. I once read a very good A.V. Club article (that I can,
unfortunately, not find at the moment) that examines the difference between King of the Hill and American Dad! in very similar terms. To
paraphrase heavily: Where the characters of King
of the Hill are just that (characters
who are consistently drawn and have jokes built around their personalities) American Dad! offers no consistent
characterization. Stan can be an idiot man-child, a caring father, a loving husband,
or a complete misogynist as the joke dictates.
This approach is not necessarily “wrong,” but I would argue that it makes the
difference between a show with true cultural staying power that can summon
genuine pathos for its major players (like, say, King of the Hill) and a show that is ultimately throwaway,
forgettable. Like The Cleveland Show.
Like using a pop culture reference in place of an actual joke. Shows like Community and Bob’s Burgers establish characters first and then build the jokes
around the ways certain characters act and react. But, to be fair to The Cleveland Show for a moment, this
was never MacFarlane’s MO. It is not like it had any real chance of not being what it was, but the fact that
there was a chance—however slim—at the start to shake things up with a new
location, new characters, and new relationships irks me. It speaks to the
industrial quality of reality TV series and “reboots” that are cranked out to
reproduce safe, old thrills—The implicit assumption is that the world of
television is a world of trough feeding and that the viewing public will eat
the same thing again and again without caring. Again, repetition is the bread
and butter of the MacFarlane Trio, three very dumb series undoubtedly made by
smart people.[3]
How to end this discussion? Perhaps with proof that
MacFarlane and company can do better. Here is one really great character moment
(of all things) that I suspect may have been accidental:
In the Family Guy episode
“Thanksgiving,” Joe’s son Kevin surprises everyone by showing up alive when he
was presumed dead while serving a tour of duty in Iraq. The characters
eventually discover that Kevin, who initially claims to have been in a coma,
actually went A.W.O.L. To defend Kevin’s actions, Brian, the liberal mouthpiece
of the series, turns to Ida—a trans character. Idea’s transition story is the focus
of an earlier episode of the show that has become notorious for its protracted,
disgusting depiction of a straight man’s reaction to discovering he has had sex
with a trans woman.[4] In “Thanksgiving,” however, Brian turns to Ida to
support Kevin because first, as Brian explicitly states, Ida also served in the
armed forces and should be able to commiserate with Kevin’s negative
experience, and second, implicitly, the appeal singles Ida out because by
virtue of being a trans person she ought to be more permissive in general,
right? Wrong. Ida refuses to support Kevin’s going A.W.O.L. and instead reminds
him that he owed his loyalty to the people serving with him.
What I like about this moment in particular is how it
breaks the mold for MacFarlane-verse characterization. Rather than use the
appeal to Ida to set up some kind of joke about perceived stereotypes of transwomen,
the episode instead allows a character to answer in something like a genuine
voice. Ida’s pride in her military background is also completely unrelated to
her trans status. It is rare to see a trans character anywhere characterized
like this (in a way not somehow related to transition). It feels utterly alien
watching this one scene and recalling it after the fact that the episode does
not go for some easy jab by using the moment to remind viewers for the umpteenth
time that Ida is trans (and that that is disgusting to the show). The way that
this brief exchange subtly characterizes Ida and rebukes Brian’s assumptions is
better than Family Guy deserves or
even usually manages.[5] It is not a humorous moment at all, so as a standard
for fixing what was wrong with The
Cleveland Show it really does not apply. I suppose all I can really say
about it is that, generally, The
Cleveland Show was a chance to change the game even slightly or at least up
the ante. The characters could have been more clearly drawn to try for a more King of the Hill-esque approach to humor
instead of using both cut-aways and non sequiturs again. Cleveland could have
had a different family life with Donna—Comedic troubles could arise but their
genuine affection for one another could still be evident, rather than being so
changeable and seemingly distant to the characters mere episodes after they
were married. That the show could do no more than to leap from love to dissatisfaction
so quickly demonstrates its lack of faith in its own ability to make audiences
laugh without resorting to the same old shtick. And that is The Cleveland Show’s greatest sin: a
lack of imagination and an apparent unwillingness to try to be anything other
than “Family Guy in blackface.”
Notes:
[1] McWhorter, John. “Just
a Cartoon, But Still: Is Family Guy in
Blackface Funny?” The New Republic,
New Republic, 2016. Accessed 7 Sept. 2016.
[3] Of the three, American Dad! is easily my favorite. It
starts out rough in seasons one and two but really finds its footing in three.
Although it also borrows the same dynamics from Family Guy, it somehow manages to make them work. The most recent
season that aired only on TBS felt weaker, but there are some great comedy
moments in the mix. Furthermore, Roger is a brilliant character—one who perfectly
embodies the spirit of the MacFarlane-verse since he is ever changing (through
costume) and can meet whatever comedic or narrative demands a particular
episode may have. Certain episodes of American
Dad!, especially “Lost in Space,” actually manage to summon the same
mixture of humor and genuine feeling that you could consistently find in the
likes of Futurama.
[4] The guy is, of
course, Brian. He vomits for a long time. The vomit is really the only thing
that moves as Stewie looks on and Brian keeps vomiting. The vomit creeps across
the floor. It goes on so long. It is… humor.
[5] I do not think
anyone in Family Guy has really grown
as a character over time, though I guess Brian has become less well-liked by other characters. On the other hand, I will admit
that American Dad! and The Cleveland Show do attempt some small
developments. Stan becomes somewhat less intolerant of gay people, and
Cleveland becomes somewhat less intolerant of Hispanic people.
