R.I.P., two long-running series bowing out tonight.
Fox’s “Malcolm in the Middle” graduates with honors after seven seasons, at 7:30 p.m. on KDVR-Channel 31 – no “supersized” puffery for this proud comedy.
NBC’s “The West Wing” retires from public life after seven seasons of high-minded political science mixed with soap-opera antics, with one last photo op at 7 p.m. on KUSA-Channel 9 (preceded at 6 p.m. by the series pilot).
Both series deserve eulogies for bringing indelible characters to the small screen. Each reinvented its format just enough to make viewers recognize greatness in the construct. Naysayers were mourning the death of the sitcom when “Malcolm” came along; they also claimed dramas set in Washington, D.C., never worked.
In 2000, before Frankie Muniz had facial hair, the “Malcolm” pilot rocked the conventions of situation comedy, compounding every laugh with inventive wizardry in the editing. It wasn’t simply funny, but stylistically radical.
The wild-eyed, braying mother (Jane Kaczmarek) seemed perpetually on the verge of a breakdown and the bumbling dad (Bryan Cranston), ever in pursuit of mediocrity, seemed the devolution of every sitcom dad in history. It was clear the couple loved each other and had a healthy sex life, even while attempting to herd three strong-willed boys, one of them a genius – a scary thought for a lowbrow diversion.
“Malcolm in the Middle” was the first modern comedy fastball, given extra spin in postproduction.
Many of the visual tricks and wordless punch lines now common in television and film derived from “Malcolm in the Middle.” When his jarring little series debuted, creator and executive producer Linwood Boomer shook up a form in need of a jolt. “Malcolm’s” quick leaps in storytelling felt fresh.
Alas, it overstayed, as hits regularly do for financial reasons. The cute little boy became a young man. The once-hip techniques became much imitated. It was past due for a send-off.
Thank goodness Cloris Leachman shows up in the finale for a last hilarious turn as sadistic Grandma Ida.
Speaking of overstaying, new term limits should have been voted for “The West Wing” shortly after the Aaron Sorkin era. The show managed to pull together an energetic final season, stoked with election-year politics and guest stars. But John Spencer’s death took the wind out of an already faltering effort that ends less high-mindedly than it began. The old sanctions against Beltway-based hours should hold for a while, and the wasted opportunity that was “Commander in Chief” proved the genre’s difficulty.
Passionate writing, earnest soliloquies invoking the very essence of democracy – in primetime! – “West Wing” defied the odds against serious thought on television. Sorkin pulled it off, while the long-simmering Josh- and-Donna attraction held interest on a more sudsy level. Recall a million shining Martin Sheen moments:
Bartlet: “We’re for freedom of speech everywhere. We’re for freedom to worship everywhere. We’re for freedom to learn … for everybody. And because, in our time, you can build a bomb in your country and bring it to my country, what goes on in your country is very much my business. And so we are for freedom from tyranny, everywhere, whether in the guise of political oppression, Toby, or economic slavery, Josh, or religious fanaticism, CJ.
“That most fundamental idea cannot be met with merely our support. It has to be met with our strength. Diplomatically, economically, materially. And if Pharaoh still don’t free the slaves, then he gets the plagues or my cavalry, whichever gets there first.”
Characters quoting Immanuel Kant and Thomas Jefferson, spouting statistics on farm bills and the electoral college, offering dissertations on Constitutional law and international relations while racing through hallways, putting out diplomatic and political fires – that was “The West Wing.”
The show offered a peculiarly intellectual form of entertainment, except when it didn’t – and thank goodness for CJ (Allison Janney) lip-synching the acid-jazz hit “The Jackal” for her co-workers.
Sure it grew tedious, but at times it was ennobling. Not bad for pop entertainment.
TV critic Joanne Ostrow can be reached at 303-820-1830 or jostrow@denverpost.com.
