Three reasons to love ‘Family Ties’
Wholesome and funny, show portrayed a family that shared feelings and believed in hugs
When I quarantined with my parents in Michigan this past summer, I began my days ribbing my mom for watching early-morning “JAG” reruns in the kitchen and ended them smirking at my dad for hogging the family room couch to devour episodes of “Taxi.”
“Haven’t you seen all these already?!” I’d ask.
I neglected to tell them that each night, before I went to sleep in my childhood bedroom, I watched “Family Ties.” Back in the 1980s, I faithfully tuned in to the NBC sitcom, usually on my black-andwhite mini-television. More than three decades later, I clutched my iPad by the nightstand and, with a few taps of my fingers, could stream any episode I wanted on CBS All Access. Sha-la-la-la.
“Family Ties” premiered on NBC in 1982, predicated on the idea that two idealistic former hippies (Meredith Baxter-Birney and Michael Gross) were in over their heads parenting the conservative Type-A Alex (Michael J. Fox), the shopping-obsessed ditz Mallory (Justine Bateman) and the introverted tomboy Jennifer (Tina Yothers). In an early episode, the elder Keatons are arrested on Thanksgiving for protesting nuclear arms. In another, they debate whether to buy a gun to protect their home.
That’s still timely material. But back then, ideological conversations didn’t generate laughs, let alone big ratings. So early in the show’s run, right around the time the formerly clean-shaven Gross grew a beard, creator Gary David Goldberg and his writing team shifted the focus to the kids — particularly Fox’s self-assured Yuppie-in-training.
I didn’t view “Family Ties” as just the bridge between “The Cosby Show” and “Cheers.” Although I was too young to understand the politics, I connected deeply to the Keatons, a big-hearted Midwestern family like mine. The parents, Elyse and Steven, went out of their way to lend a hand without being pushovers. (In one episode, they helped the goofy neighbour Skippy find his birth mother.) Jennifer was awkward; I was awkward. Mallory was like my de facto cool older sister. And Alex, sigh. Fox imbued the precocious young capitalist with a sensitive soul and spirit.
The sitcom moved to Sunday nights toward the end of its run before signing off for good in 1989. Reruns aired on weekend mornings on TBS in the 1990s, then disappeared around the millennium. That means an entire generation has no memory of watching the show on an actual TV. But its datedness only makes it more soothing. Here’s why I love it.
The wholesome values
Biting cynicism had no place in the Keaton household; Steven worked in public television, for crying out loud. This was a family that shared feelings and believed in hugs. The kids engaged in sitcom high jinks, but they were generally responsible and trustworthy. At worst, Jennifer had a sudden urge to hang with the cool girls, and Mallory fell for a Fonzie-like artist named Nick (Scott Valentine) who had an earring, a leather jacket and a mangled way with words.
And yet the family’s problems weren’t saccharine, either. When Steven had a heart attack in Season 7 and had to undergo quadruple bypass surgery, the family members opened up about their worries and fears in the waiting room. Via flashback scenes, each Keaton reminisced about a heartwarming special moment with him. (Spoiler: He pulled through.) When Uncle Ned (Tom Hanks!) visited, he hit Alex and then admitted he was an alcoholic.
My favourite example is from Season 2, when Alex defies his mother and goes out with his buddies to celebrate his18th birthday. She lashes out; he dismisses her ensuing lecture as just another mom talk. Only after Elyse thrusts out her bare arm at him and exclaims, “Surprise, Alex. I am a real person: flesh and blood, real feelings!” does he relent. It was a nuanced, empathetic depiction of the evolving relationship between a parent and child, the kind you never saw on cuter family sitcoms like “Full House.”
The production values
Nobody will ever confuse “Family Ties” with a 21st-century comedy. It was a traditional three-camera production filmed in front of a live studio audience that featured many hallmarks of the era, including a slightly cheesy openingcredits sequence (with a theme song by Johnny Mathis and Deniece Williams) and low-rent effects. (Try not to wince when Alex and Mallory sit and talk on a “moving train.”)
The episodes play as if they were written to be performed in a ramshackle theatre, with most of the scenes taking place in either a wood-panelled living room or a cheery suburban kitchen. If the Keaton house had a front porch or garage, I never saw them.
But the spartan set design allowed for extended and genuinely funny sequences. In a Season 2 episode, the kids decide to turn the place into a makeshift hotel and make some money while their parents are away. More and more strangers fill the house in the aftermath of a homecoming football game, culminating with the appearance of the rival school’s mascot. Steven returns during the height of the chaos to deliver the punchline: “There was a kangaroo … in my living room.”
This was TV comedy before the rise of rapid-fire barbs and winking pop culture references. Aside from Alex’s adulation for then-president Ronald Reagan (boy, did he savour those 1984 election results), “Family Ties” rarely even acknowledged the outside world.
The Alex P. Keaton value
I choose not to ruminate on the fact that Fox, my one-time “Tiger Beat” poster boy, is less than a year from turning 60. To me, he’ll always be the button-down overachiever with a secret heart of gold.
It’s a testament to Fox’s appeal that he could portray a money-obsessed Republican and not come off as a diminutive Gordon Gekko. Alex had a higher IQ than the rest of us, but the joy came in watching him learn people smarts. He memorably fell in love with a shy art student named Ellen Reed (Tracy Pollan), who had the wherewithal to call him out on his bluster. They tentatively slow-danced to the ballad “At This Moment” before sharing a first kiss. (The show propelled the forgotten Billy Vera song to the top of the pop charts.) The fact that Fox later married Pollan only adds to the romance.
Fox’s most memorable episode, which earned him one of the three Emmys he won for the role, was a two-part Season 5 stunner called “A, My Name is Alex.” In Part 1, he struggles to cope with the sudden death of his friend in a car accident. His family is concerned; he finally breaks down. In the second half, presented without commercials and starkly staged in the style of “Our Town,” he talks to an unseen therapist and explores the meaning of his life. Alex eventually accepts that he’ll never feel quite as secure as he did before his friend’s death. Then he wipes his eyes, smiles and declares that he wants to keep the conversation going.