The Office is advertised as a laugh-out-loud goofy comedy and it succeeds admirably. So say the Emmy awards, the television ratings and the zeitgeist. The show tracks garden-variety office workers led by boss, Michael Scott. He is the core of the show and, in particular, the humor.
There are two main types of humor in today's comedy. There is Ha-Ha funny. This is laughing out loud with a smile. A prime example is Dave Chappelle's tell-it-like-it-is social commentary that involves exaggerations of social truths or insights about social truths we never noticed but immediately recognize.
The second type of humor is Grimace funny and is the kind of humor that has long been fingered as a defense mechanism. This laughter barely escapes through gritted teeth and appeals to the primitive in us that once found amusement in a court jester falling off a stage. This same impulse is expressed in the modern world when we can't help but slow down to absorb every detail of a fiery car wreck. Self-destruction lies at the heart of this kind of comedic entertainment and, as a result, incites an emotional discomfort that we are programmed to avoid. So we avoid it by laughing it off.
Imagine for a moment that Michael Scott is your boss. You would probably feel less like an amused observer of his antics then a reluctant witness to the psychological car wreck that is his life. The writers have created a boss who is unlikable enough to have an unstable, unpredictable and humiliating existence but who is also likable enough to keep normal folk in his corner, relating and rooting.
His personality is a core of narcissistic needs surrounded by a tumultuous mote of histrionic emotion (think the uncensored intensity of a child's temper tantrum). He needs to seek adulation and attention and when these needs go unmet he cannot tolerate or cope. The narcissism is what turns us off. He routinely insults everyone around him and cannot recognize a rule of social etiquette to save his life.
His childishness is what draws us in, as we are willing to circumnavigate his unappealing exterior in an effort to offer pity and sympathy to a vulnerable and overwhelmed interior. In between temper tantrums, Michael divides his time between unraveling during presentations, locking himself in his office and, in general, wearing distress on his sleeve.
These are the necessary ingredients of a Grimace funny that incites protective laughter in us. This theory is further illuminated when you attempt to reconcile two obvious truths: A.) Any show can feel real even if we know it's not B.) This show really isn't all that funny.
A. Claiming that an exceedingly silly comedy show (if the show was realistic then Michael would be fired at least three times an episode) can induce real discomfort seems exceedingly silly, I know. But the things we watch can penetrate our psyches with depth and power. The notion of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) explains this human susceptibility to the power of the image. Because of mirror neurons in our brain we can't help but feel sadness when listening to others recount trauma. Simply watching traumatic material on television can potentially trigger or inflate PTSD and treatment of PTSD can be just as effectively achieved with simulated or televised exposure versus reality-based exposure.
B. A show about a boss who does not deserve to be a boss and cannot handle being a boss is not a funny story. It is an embarrassing story. We feel that embarrassment and we block that embarrassment with laughter.
This reminds me of a story my parents recently told me. When I was around 1-years-old, I suffered a bout of diarrhea so impressive that a visiting friend of the family felt the need to take a nap. How did my parents cope during the cleanup? They laughed. Yes, I think we may be laughing at The Office for the same reasons that we laugh over a case of explosive diarrhea.
