The Office

 

Becoming David Brent

 

Slavoj Zizek once observed: “A typical boss no longer wants to be a boss. Imagine these postmodern companies, like some digital programming company or some creative agency: the boss comes in jeans, embraces you with all vulgarities - 'Did you have a good fuck last night?' or whatever – but then – fuck you! - he remains a boss. He nonetheless gives orders. But the social game is, now you have to pretend that we are friends and so on. In these relations, the first step to liberation is to force him to really behave like a boss: to tell him, 'No! Fuck you! No comradeship. Treat me as a boss. Give me explicit orders,' and so on.”

He's right, of course, but what he passes over here is the pathos of the boss in the postmodern age. It is truly a Hegelian drama of the struggle for (mis)recognition.

The Office began as a British TV show, on BBC2, in 2001. It only lasted 2 seasons, each of which were just 6 episodes long – plus a 2 part Christmas special. 14 episodes in total. Its ratings were bad, it felt like it had come to a kind of (ambiguous) completion, it was not renewed, and that was the end of it.

Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant created The Office partly based on Gervais's experience working in the office of a radio station, Xfm, but instead of playing the part that reflected (how he saw) himself, (the lowly, goof-off worker) he had the brilliant idea to play the part that was based on his former boss. The character that he and Merchant created, originally simply called “seedy boss” but eventually given the name David Brent, came to be one of the most complex characters of the 21^st century TV so far, and was what made the show so subversive.

You have David Brent, the boss who desperately wants to be liked, to be invited to the parties of his workers, who know that if he showed up, he would make everything awkward. Then you have the “good worker,” Gareth, who constantly sucks up to the boss, the “bad worker,” Tim, the bored, lazy class clown who's more interested in pranking his co-workers than doing his job (of course, since this is a subversive show, we are meant to identify with the “bad worker,” rather than the “good worker”). Then there's Dawn, whom Tim is secretly attracted to, and is indeed the only reason he stays in this job, but who is engaged to someone else (Lee)... and away you go. It seems like a classic set-up – the characters are almost “stock,” like in a Punch-and-Judy show – and yet I can't think of an exact precursor.

The Office was not very funny. Perhaps by British standards, it was outrageous; from an American point of view it seems quite reserved and subtle. David Brent's relentless jokes are not funny; that was the point. The constant off-color puns and quotes from TV shows that he makes (often with sexist, racist, and homophobic implications) are reflexive, almost convulsive attempts to discharge the tension and discomfort, which usually end up backfiring and intensifying it. 

Together with the contemporary show Curb Your Enthusiasm, The Office was a pioneer in “cringe comedy.” In both shows, the more the central character is regarded by the other characters as a badly behaved jerk, the more we identify with them. Shot as a mockumentary, something like a Christopher Guest movie, alternating between dramatic scenes and cut-away interviews, it established a format for the sit-com that has been imitated so many times that its easy to forget how innovative it was. But even more than Curb Your Enthusiasm (which also began as a mockumentary, before evolving into something else) the British Office was not light, fun, relaxing entertainment, like a typical sitcom – it was often painful to watch.

This mockumentary style, with handheld cameras, makes the show feel a bit to me like an Andy Warhol film, with David Brent taking the role of, for instance, Edie Sedgwick – hamming it up, ready for his close-up, convinced that he is being recognized by the documentary crew because he is such a great boss, the filmmakers never letting on that it's a set-up, that the joke is on him.

David Brent is perpetually humiliated, over and over, and perpetually humiliates everyone else. At times he seems blithely unaware of this; at other times, we glimpse his consciousness. Antonin Artaud always dreamed of creating the "theater of cruelty" - which, Artaud would always insist, primarily meant cruelty to himself. The Office achieved the theater of cruelty by making it funny. (Of course, Artaud was a fan of the Marx Brothers, so nothing's new under the sun.)

The Office, especially in its second season, was really more of a drama than a comedy. It was in fact a tragedy, in which David Brent strikes out on a quixotic quest for his own authenticity, only to bring about his own and everyone's downfall. We learn that David Brent sees himself as a comedian and always dreamed of pursuing a music career. (This may reflect Ricky Gervais's brief career as a singer in an 80s synth pop band called Seona Dancing, before taking his own office job.) He's received the recognition of becoming the boss, but that's not what he wants. He wants to be recognized as funny, as an artist, as a cool guy. This climaxes [SPOILER ALERT – but this aired 23 years ago, so I don't feel too bad] when, at the end of the series, David Brent is essentially fired and then spends all of his severance making a ludicrous music video in which he sings “If you don't know me by now, you will never, never, never know me.” If you've never seen it, do yourself a favor, go on youtube and watch it – although you really have to see the entire 14-episode set-up to this punchline to get it. It's by far the funniest moment in the series. It's also heartbreaking, and in a way transcendent. David Brent, will we ever ever ever know you?

David Brent was the villain of the show, but he was also the hero. Or, more accurately, eventually it becomes clear that in addition to David, Gareth, Tim, and Dawn, and all the other workers at Wernham Hogg, there is another, far more important character: the office itself.

At first it might seem that David Brent is the villain, but watching the show, you soon came to realize that the office itself is the villain - not the building, of course, but the hierarchical social relation necessary for production, which gradually turns all of us into bumbling, offensive, repulsive David Brents. And its victory over us is all the more torturously painful, precisely because David Brent is being recognized for what he truly is. He's not a comedian or a musician. He's a salesman; he's middle management. Become what you are.

He thought of himself as essentially a musician that was pretending to be the boss in a paper distribution company; in reality, he was the boss of a paper distribution company that was pretending to be a musician. Now, like the hero of a Greek tragedy, because he strove to escape his fate, he can have neither. His fate is sealed. He's Pagliacci, the sad, lonely clown.

And likewise for Tim, the goof-off protagonist: it's treated lightly, but he can see himself slowly becoming David Brent. The message is clear: you cannot participate in a social structure “ironically”. As Kurt Vonnegut put it (referencing an American spy who infiltrated the Nazis), “We are what we pretend to be.”

The American Office

When they remade the Office for American television, they chose Steve Carell to play the equivalent of David Brent, now named Michael Scott. In a weird way, it made sense: Carell came from the Daily Show, where he had done an ongoing bit called “Steven vs. Stephen” where he debated Stephen Colbert. Colbert went on to The Colbert Show, where he pretended to be a rightwing blowhard, angrily reciting conservative talking points – but “only ironically”. Steve Carell would become the stereotypical empty suit of capitalism, spewing inappropriate sexist and racist and homophobic prejudice – but “only ironically.”

The American Office went on to massive success, spanning 9 seasons and more than 200 episodes. It just seemed to go on and on and on, gathering ratings and accolades and imitators and launching many careers.

The American Office is much funnier than the British Office. The dialogue is punchier and tighter. There are way more jokes per minute. They are performed much more professionally. It's relaxing and fun and enjoyable. I genuinely like it. It's good! I watch it again and again.

But the spirit of the original show is gone. No – it's worse than that. The spirit of the original show is reversed. It's the opposite of the British Office.

There's no subversion in the American Office. It's “apolitical” - which means, in reality, that it does have a politics: a conservative politics, a politics that reaffirms the status quo.

In the original, British series, the joke was that the office changes us, molds us against our will into its subjects, making us cartoonish, infantilized horrors, in the interest of the production process, until there is nothing left of our original humanity.

In the American series, the joke is: haha! Look at this silly, childish person! He's not being very productive! Look at all these silly, childish workers! They aren't being very productive. What naughty workers. Don't be like them.

In other words: whereas the British Office was on the side of humanity, against the office, the American Office is on the side of the office, against humanity.

Take, for instance, the characters of Jan Levinson and David Wallace, the upper management characters at Dunder-Mifflin. They are always portrayed as professional, reasonable, competent, normal, considerate, and benignly tolerating the wildly unprofessional behavior of Michael Scott and his ridiculous underlings. Jan even at one point has a romance with Michael, but we are made to feel that she is way out of his league and he doesn't deserve her. This is a far cry from Chris “Finchy” Finch, the more successful sales rep that David Brent worships and imagines to be his best friend, though Finchy shows no affection for Brent whatsoever. Finchy is a foil for Brent: Finchy is shamelessly, overbearingly sexist, thoughtless, sociopathic, and frankly evil, whereas Brent at least tries to maintain an appearance of political correctness and decency, however superficial and transparent.

Then there's Dwight Shrute, the equivalent of Gareth from the original show. On the one hand, Dwight is a far more complex character than Gareth, with more of a story (after 9 seasons, one would hope so). But whereas Gareth is mocked for being a “company man,” a sycophantic, competitive, hierarchical brown-nosing quisling who longs to be a soldier, there's much more focus on Dwight's background, the fact that he comes from the country. Dwight is portrayed as ignorant, uncouth, clueless, unsophisticated, and it implied that he is the product of inbreeding. In short, whereas Gareth is mocked for the narrowness of his ambition and his lack of empathy, his goals, what he aspires to, things he has choice and control over, Dwight is mocked for what he is and what he came from, almost to a genetic level.

Jim (the equivalent of Tim) pranks Dwight constantly, for no reason, so often that it can be considered nothing but sadistic bullying. At one point, Jim is transferred to a different branch, but he continues pranking Dwight, long distance, by fax. Why? Why does he care? Is he secretly in love with Dwight? Is that the subtext?

Which brings me to my main point, which is: I FUCKING HATE JIM AND PAM. Especially Jim. I guess Pam's okay, sort of?

The values of the original show have become completely inverted. Tim was the lovable loser, the Bart Simpson (“underachiever and proud of it!”) the Goofus to Gareth's Gallant. But Jim is Mr. Dudley Do-Right, the highly professional and successful star employee, constantly showing how much of a better worker he is than stupid Dwight. In work and in love, he always does everything right. Tim was a relatable character: he was motivated by extreme alienation and boredom and resentment. Jim is not alienated or bored or resentful. He and Pam clearly see themselves as above everyone around them. They (especially Jim) are constantly mugging for the camera with that stupid non-smile as if to say, “You see what I have to deal with?” after everything any other worker does or says. He is a fantasy of a good boy.

His problem with Michael is not that Michael is an authority figure, nor that he sees himself slowly turning into him (as Tim felt towards David Brent). He wants to be in Michael's position, and his problem with Michael is that Michael is so immature and inefficient. Jim and Pam are cheerfully cruel to Dwight, Michael, and the other workers in their office, apparently because they see themselves as more beautiful than everyone else. They see themselves as the stars of the show and everyone else as supporting cast.

He's also not funny. Mugging for the camera is not a joke. It got old in season 1.

On the one hand, the American Office is fun, entertaining, and enjoyable in a way that the original show was not. It's even heartwarming at times. But at a deeper level, it's a lot more mean-spirited than the original show. The American Office affirms the values of capitalism and the obedience and efficiency of workers and mocks all people to the extent that they fail to conform to these values. The show is funny, but it's also ultimately cold and heartless. The philosopher Allan Bloom once quipped that American culture is “nihilism with a happy ending.” That sums up the American Office perfectly.

Besides the UK version and the American version, there are 11 other versions of the Office – a German version, a French version, a Canadian version, a Chilean version, an Arabic version, you name it. I've never seen any of these. Have you? I'd like to hear about them.

Afterward

John Krasinski, who starred as Jim Halpert, went on to be a major star, producer, and director in Hollywood. Most notably, he is Jack Ryan, the hero of the Tom Clancy series, in which he plays a CIA analyst. OF COURSE HE FUCKING DOES. He researched the role by meeting and talking with CIA agents while they were working at their jobs. “Going to the actual CIA and meeting these men and women was amazing,” Krasinski says. “I was blown away by a lot of things with the CIA — how incredibly diverse the place was and how apolitical. There was no politics being discussed, it was about objectives of protecting people and getting to the truth of the matter [...] And then the other thing was how perfectly and weirdly comfortingly normal everybody was.” OF FUCKING COURSE THAT'S WHAT HE SAID.

Similarly, Greg Daniels, who adapted The Office for the USA, went on to make a show called “Space Force,” once again starring Steve Carell. It seemed ripe for satire: Donald Trump's idiotic boondoggle, portrayed by the creators of the Office, as well as several alums from Christopher Guest movies. What could go wrong? The result was one of the worst television shows ever made. It was an unfunny, boring, tensionless, “optimistic” piece of propaganda for the American Armed Forces that tried to convince the audience that Space Force is actually a good and necessary project. Revolting garbage.

Finally, there's Ricky Gervais himself. In the years that followed The Office, Gervais made another show, Extras, which paralleled his real-life attempt to break into showbiz, just as The Office had paralleled his office life. He was like an ouroboros, eating his own life, draining it for content. Then he went on to make The Invention of Lying, infamously hosted the Oscars, where he made quite vicious jokes about celebrities to their faces, became a kind of comic representative of the New Atheist movement, lost weight, and shifted to a stand-up routine that was mostly fat-phobic jokes. He's also always ready to attack trans people, and there are persistent rumors that he acts as a horrible bully to his staff and co-workers. More than rumors, in fact: on the bonus features of Extras, you can watch him physically torturing his editor; on his podcast, he relentlessly berates his “friend” Karl Pilkington; and comedian and touring partner Robin Ince was so browbeaten that he quit comedy and wrote a book detailing Gervais's abusive behavior.

What is galling, depressing, and bewildering about Ricky Gervais's transformation is that it is as if he doesn't get the joke of The Office, and doesn't understand what made it funny. The dramatic tension – and comedic tension – of The Office depended on our understanding that underneath this vile, repulsive person, there was an actor and show creator who knew better. As in Carroll O'Connor's portrayal of Archie Bunker in “All in the Family,” one sensed a human being deep down there. But Ricky Gervais has become arrogant, insensitive, and cruel, and it's pathetically obvious that he does it all in the sad, desperate pursuit of attention, laughter, and love. In short, he turned into David Brent.