A medical condition that requires an abundance of Covid-era precaution is behind a deep dive into a collection of DVD sets of at least 500 sitcoms. This recently led to revisiting "Mary Tyler Moore" after several decades. The first bit of realization as to the TV Land classic is that the brightly lettered title in the opening credits reveal that the title is not "The Mary Tyler Moore Show."
Introduction to the series came via UHF station evening reruns that coincided with a CBS broadcast run that was past the bedtime of your then quite youthful not-so-humble reviewer. It remained a cherished memory but was never so personally deeply loved that subsequent indie station and basic-cable runs made the cut as to the plethora of similar fare.
Literally watching the show through the eyes of a child supports the image that the program chronicles the personal and professional lives of a thoroughly modern '70s-era career woman with the morals of a girl scout. Seeing MTM through significantly older eyes shows that America's sweetheart was not so pure and that her show was not always suitable for young children. Finding humor as to "Aunt Flo" not visiting Mary until the sixth season and not stopping by monthly is a subtle example of this.
It should be undisputed that the MTM cast and the behind-the-scenes talent were exceptional. The real issue is that the show did not live up to the hype even back in the day. The primary nature of this is that any show that touts itself as ground-breaking really is not ala personal experience that EVERY CEO or public figure who promotes that she is a mother does not demonstrate any caring or compassion in her professional life.
As an initial matter, Our Miss Brooks and Ann Marie are single career gals long before Mary Richards came along. This is not to mention Sally Rogers of Tyler Moore's first series "The Dick Van Dyke Show" being one of the boys in a show that divided its focus between the highly combined professional and personal lives of the star ala MTM. A related observation is the absurdity as to the frequency of the unannounced evening and late-night visits by WJM colleagues to the home of local news producer Mary Richards.
Much of the humor of MTM relates to Richards being a virtuous in every sense woman in a world of people whose values are more typical of a '70s everyman or woman. The ugly truth is that "Virgin Mary" (and the series) is less pure than largely considered.
Our story begins Richards being a 30 year-old woman fresh off a break-up with her fiance. Chances are quite good that a late-20s woman in a committed relationship in the late '60s has carnal knowledge. That episode also involves Richards moving into her apartment despite fully knowing that neighbor/soon-to-be-best friend Rhoda was promised those lodgings.
Even the early MTM seasons included numerous indications that Richards was not saving herself for marriage. The arguably most blatant example of this is our "innocent" is unapologetic on her father learning that his little girl stayed out all night. A more amusing moment involves the priceless expression on the face of Richards on learning that boss/friend Lou Grant (Ed Asner) considers the mid-single digits as the threshold as to a woman being a slut.
A very creepy early-season episode apparently did not raise any eyebrows even in an era in which a blind eye was turned as to most workplace sexual harassment. Richards had invited then quasi-swinging single/anchorman Ted Baxter (Ted Knight) for a friendly dinner that he turned into an opportunity to try to fish off the company pier. This culminated in Baxter forcing his way into the apartment of Richards and refusing to leave.
The MTM writing staff may actually have been groundbreaking by having the story evolve into Baxter lying about having hit a home run with Richards at what is recalled to be a time before such a plot became a sitcom trope that typically involved a bragging high-school or college boy lying about a classmate.
Related observations are that MTM matured as a show in every sense in the post Rhoda and building manager/real housewife of Minneapolis Phyllis era. It is highly likely that, ala a 14 year-old who is sick of carrying around a doll and talking with a lisp on a sitcom, Tyler Moore demanded that Richards grows up. A symbolic aspect of this is having Richards move from essentially a glorified bedroom in what can be considered the house of her parents into a one-bedroom apartment in a high-rise.
An amusing aspect of this era is that Ted Bessell of Ann Marie series "That Girl" has a recurring role as a highly amorous boyfriend of Richards. It is strongly implied that the Bessell character regularly gives Richards reasons to figuratively call out "Oh, Donald."
These also are the seasons in which Happy Homemaker (and borderline hooker) Sue Ann Nivens (Betty White) is promoted from recurring character to series regular. This arguably is a jump-the-shark moment in that it leads to MTM transitioning from a modern version of "Van Dyke" to an early version of network-friendly raunchy sitcom "Three's Company."
The racier Sue-Ann era extends beyond an amusing episode in which her long-term efforts to get Grant in bed succeeds to the same lazy writing behind the equally predictable (but still entertaining) innuendo humor of "Company." The first few times that Nivens provides wisecracking news writer Murray Slaughter (Gavin MacLeod) a set up are amusing. This getting to the point that virtually every episode essentially includes a moment in which Nivens asks to borrow a quarter (i.e., two bits) for a parking meter and Slaughter suggests that she just make a date.
The later-season writers also regularly resort to the old make a comment right before someone walks in joke. A hypothetical example is a hungry Lou telling Murray that he is in the mood for a tart just before an oblivious Nivens enters the newsroom. It is equally predictable that someone will comment on a missing houseplant only to have the dim-witted Baxter arrive seconds later.
The bigger picture regarding all this is that the best of MTM reflects the wisdom of fellow '70s CBS comedy goddess Carol Burnett. Burnett has commented within the past few years that funny always will be funny and that one need not turn to blue humor to get laughs.
Most MTM fans believe that "Chuckles Bites the Dust," which includes numerous hilarious one-liners about the death of the titular kiddie-show host, is the best episode of the series. Perhaps because that episode was strongly remembered, watching it earlier this week indicates that that outing does not fully pass the test of time.
Coincidentally, Nivens has a prominent role in every personal favorite episode. "The Dinner Party" earns the top spot on this list. Richards hosts the titular event at which the guest list gets comically out of hand. An episode a few years later has Nivens hire Slaughter as her producer only to demand that he perform increasingly humiliating tasks. The climax of this episode deserves a high-rank in sitcom history because it is unexpected and involves a timelessly hilarious element. This moment additionally reflects the fondest wish of anyone with a horrible boss.
Another favorite puts an interesting twist on the Christmas episode. The newsroom staff is experiencing very rare animosity towards each other when a November snowstorm strands them on the same night that Sue Ann has an abundance of extra food from the episode on international Christmas traditions. The gang opts for eating together despite their anger and agrees to wear silly hats over going hungry. Hilarity truly ensues until they predictably hug it out in the end.
The best news regarding all this is that the writers and the cast fully step up to combine the best elements of the show for the season finale that deserves a place on the list of the top 10 episodes of the series. The "sit" that drives the "com" is realistic in the world of independent television stations, and the best moment comes before the perfect final scene that is indelibly etched in the minds of fans. This lead up provides Richards an epic comeuppance as to her considering herself the untouchable darling of the newsroom.
