Roseanne deserves the ratings
Before Wednesday evening, I’d never seen a single episode of Roseanne. But in the interest of cultural commentary, I cranked up my ABC.com app to see what all the fuss— and the extraordinarily high ratings—was about. Here’s what I learned.
1. It’s knowing.
From the moment Dan Conner (John Goodman) wakes with a start, we’re in a familiar world rarely seen on TV. His face is covered by a plastic mask with a breathing tube. The show assumes the audience recognizes what it is: a CPAP machine to treat sleep apnea. Back when the original Roseanne was on the air from 1988 to 1997, I’d never heard of sleep apnea, which afflicts an estimated one in 15 Americans, particularly overweight men over 40 like Dan. Twenty years later I have friends and relatives who sleep in similar getups. It’s a common phenomenon in American life. But you wouldn’t know that from watching TV.
2. It’s funny.
But what makes the show is the talented cast, especially Goodman. “This is so unfair. You’re ruining my life! You all suck!” shouts granddaughter Harris (Emma Kenney) as she storms out after being told she has to babysit her brother. Dan laughs. “I ain’t seen that movie in 20 years. Ah, the classics really do hold up.” The writing is fine, but it’s Goodman’s delivery and expressions that make you laugh.
3. It’s loving.
Family sitcoms are about family. Dan and Roseanne Conner (Roseanne Barr) are a 60-something couple still demonstrably in love with each other. At the core of the show is the Conners’ loving, protective, and blunt-spoken attitude toward their kids and grandkids, along with the tensions that arise from individuals’ quirks and foibles.
4. It’s part of a big political/cultural trend. The show garnered enormous publicity because both Roseannes, the character and the comedian, voted for Donald Trump. The first episode has great fun with the contrast between Roseanne and her sister Jackie. “Not only did she vote for the worst person on Earth, but she was a real jerk about it too,” Roseanne says. “And now she’s just ridiculous.” When Jackie comes by to drive Darlene to a job interview, her daughter assures Roseanne that everything will be fine. “She promised she’d get along and knowing the both of you, I’m guessing you’re the one keeping this feud alive.” Darlene opens the door to reveal Aunt Jackie wearing a pink hat, a shirt reading “Nasty Woman” and a just-try-me expression. “What’s up, Deplorable?” she says to her sister.
But Roseanne isn’t a drama. It is a family sitcom with the fundamental sweetness that typifies that genre. Its politics are the politics of recognition and empathy.
The radical premise of Roseanne is that recognizing diverse viewpoints and voices, including those that don’t assume that what we take for granted is the norm, can in fact showcase the things we share. What we have in common is at least as important as what divides us. And as Darlene counsels Mark, from someone’s perspective we’re all weird.