The sight of Ed O’Neil struggling to connect to his dopey son and hot blond daughter, under the watchful eye of his grating sexpot wife is, if you are a member of my generation, comforting – like macaroni and cheese for the TV-watching soul.
At first glance, the new ABC sitcom Modern Family seems a clever update of our old familiar ’80s friend, it’s Married with Children, for the 21st century and post-Arrested Development: Remarried with Children meets Gay-Married with Children. It’s a single-camera, faux-documentary show set in the suburbs about the trials and travails of family life. And Ed O’Neil gets to be grumpy-but-loveable and put-upon, like when he attempts to welcome the adopted baby daughter of his son and son’s partner. Or when he sorts out a family misunderstanding by pushing his whole brood into the pool.
You know, just like sitcoms used to be . . . except, wait, I’m sorry, they have a pool? Like a giant, marble Olympic-sized pool? Yes, because here’s the unspoken thing about this show: everyone on Modern Family is rich. They live in big houses and do expensive things, like, for example adopt babies from Vietnam (average cost of international adoption = $25,000). Maybe not rich like Gossip Girl but definitely rich like Brothers and Sisters, and – here’s where I really get weirded out – no one notices or cares.
There have always been rich characters on TV shows, from The Beverly Hillbillies to Beverly Hills 90210, so it’s not their wealth that’s surprising, it’s the fact that it’s not of interest to any of the characters, primary or secondary – or presumed to be of interest to the viewer. You’re supposed to accept that we’re in a TV world where Ed O’Neil can say things like, “But we’re supposed to go to wine country”, and be taken seriously, or an episode can revolve around the planning of an extravagantly elaborate birthday party with no inclusion of its inherent expense.
On some level, watching such unrepentant consumption and upper-middle-class privilege can be kind of soothing – like, say, eating $15 truffled mac and cheese – but it also leaves out several chances for this family to grapple with wealth the way they would in real life. Don’t worry faux-documentarians – you traffic in the humor of your characters’ pain . . . it will only be funny when Phil Dunphy (Ed O’Neill’s son-in-law) goes bankrupt because the Southern California real estate market collapses, leaving his stay-at-home wife blond Claire to go back to work. Hijinks will ensue! I promise. Kind of like the time when Al told Peggy, Kelly and Bud to get jobs.
Except probably Claire won’t end up as a rock slut in a music video. Because no one watches music videos anymore. [editor's note - Ouch! Some of our finest customers still get their users to watch music videos. . . And YouTube would probably beg to differ with that sentiment. . .]
