Bad Titles Ruin Good TV Shows
Coutesy of ABC
Titles aren’t always important when it comes to network comedies. The show “Friends” lasted an unprecedented ten years on NBC and its title is one of the simplest, and blandest, in history. It gets to the point, but it’s so broad that it seems unlikely that it would mean success. Of course this was 1994, when people actually sat through commercials, and watched twentysomethings like Ross, Rachel, and Joey talk about their urbanite experiences. Now there are hundreds of channels, and online streaming services, which frequently release new content. In the bustle of broadcast television it’s easy to miss something really good in favor of something more easily accessible. The first thing we as a generation look for in a show is its title, and if it doesn’t pique interest, or in the very least have something to do with the show, we move on. That’s why it’s so sad that truly innovative comedies don’t get the gravitas they deserve.
Even now, in an age where reboots are common and previously cancelled shows continually get their due, I can’t get people to watch some of my favorite comedies, because of their titles. This past week I discovered “Selfie,” a show that has an obviously terrible title, but is actually quite funny, and has a lot of soul. It was created by Emily Kapnek, who had previously created winners like “As Told by Ginger,” and “Suburbia,” but for some reason couldn’t get this Karen Gillan/John Cho vehicle off the ground. The premise follows a social media loving millennial, (based off of “My Fair Lady’s” Eliza Doolittle) being taught empathy and morality by Henry Higgs, aka Cho. While the show itself has a lot of heart, and features quirky and fun humor, millennials didn’t tune in thanks to its obviously attention grabbing title. Not only does “Selfie” sound like a stodgy network executive’s idea of what young people want, but it also undermined our intelligence and devotion to well written shows about our generation’s wants and needs. Eliza Dooley not only captured the narcissism of youth, but also showed how raw and vulnerable many of us are under the surface of our glamorous social media.
Other great comedies have fallen to the wayside in this fashion, including “Cougar Town,” “Trophy Wife,” and “Don’t Trust the B**** in Apartment 23,” which was an especially devastating loss. Though “Don’t Trust the B,” is a terrible, long, and unneeded title it did properly showcase the zany energy of its leads, and at least made sense, given what the show was. Cancelled after two seasons, its stars have gone on to create great television, i.e. Krysten Ritter’s turn in “Jessica Jones,” and Eric Andre creating “The Eric Andre Show,” on Adult Swim. I am guilty of not giving this show a chance when it was on. Luckily it’s all on Netflix, where I have grown accustomed to re-watching all 26 episodes every six months or so.
Why do networks make these mistakes? Well, it’s a mix of different aims, the first being to tap into the vortex of current pop culture. “Selfie” is a ubiquitous term that has its ruminations in internet culture, which is a market that begs to be tapped. Network executives believe that simply naming their show something close to its subject matter, and have it echo common interests, will lead to success. “Don’t Trust the B,” was named as an edgy tactic, one that network TV has never successfully pulled off (See “$&%$ My Dad Says,” for reference.) It’s a known fact that if you can’t actually say the name of your show on network television, it has no place as the title of your show.
Besides just being a complete turn off, these titles also create different expectations for incoming audiences, and don’t actually sum up what these shows are about. How many people tuned into “Cougar Town,” expecting Courtney Cox to be on the prowl for young dudes? Literally everyone. What we got instead was an ensemble sitcom about a neighborhood of Floridian upper middle class friends who helped one another with their love lives, and familial crises. While Bill Lawrence’s previously titled “Scrubs” captured the necessary joie de vivre of its subject matter, “Cougar Town,” missed the mark completely, as it neither dealt with California wildlife nor the sexual prowess of a forty-something woman.
People find good shows through word of mouth, internet buzz, and awards show grandeur, but they don’t find them by trolling through upcoming titles and picking and choosing which ones sound good. A title can only give you so much information. What does a title like “The Good Place,” conjure to mind? A place that’s decent, I suppose. Maybe it’s even heaven itself. Even if you can guess that much you will never guess how zany, adventurous, and downright hilarious it is unless you either know the people involved, or watch it yourself. Good shows don’t need the push of a perfect title, or pointed marketing centered on youth. Shows just need time to grow, get better, reel in an audience. Hopefully ABC, and quirky comedies in general, learn this rule, so gems no longer gather dust in our Netflix queue.
Also, please watch "The Good Place." It's so freaking good.
