I recently had a confusing Twitter exchange, wherein someone expressed surprise that people younger than himself, and not British, would find “Fawlty Towers” funny. Confusing, that is, because of all the Britcoms, this has to be one of the most globally appreciated. Even non-Brits who don’t have their very own Britcom newsletters have been known to appreciate Basil’s antics or so I’ve heard.
Though I snark, I must confess I’ve had the same exact reaction to learning that people who didn’t grow up an M79 bus away from its action are big fans of “Seinfeld.” People from other countries, even! But should I be? There are references I get in a way that someone who didn’t have a 1980s-1990s New York Jewish childhood never possibly could. But there are also inconsistencies that are only jarring because of my deep familiarity with the world the show ostensibly represents. (Note: a show being unrealistic does not make it bad. Unrealisticness is not inherently a fault.) Why are these Upper West Siders always driving? (Because the cast is actually in L.A.; because it’s meant to appeal to regular Americans.)
I remember from the “Keeping Up Appearances” documentary that Hyacinth is understood as posh by Americans, but is actually, as Brits understand, a product of the working classes with dreams above her station. But… this is all clear from the show. It’s spelled out that these are her origins, and you regularly meet actually posh characters who find her ridiculous. It’s not a register you absolutely need to get in order to find the show entertaining, but if you watch it while somewhat awake and over 10 years old, it’s hard to miss.
The discourse about comedy’s regionality confuses specificity with untranslatability. “Fawlty Towers” is extremely English, “Seinfeld” equivalently American. Their trappings and preoccupations come from their eras and locales in an even more granular way. But the way the shows actually present, very little is lost.
I’d contrast this with “Benidorm,” which I’m sure I miss a ton of, and which I only understand as well as I do because of all the Sally Wainwright shows I’ve watched. It’s enjoyable in an exotic way for me, someone who needs a map to figure out whether Liverpool is in Yorkshire. As in I learn a lot from the show, while also finding it wonderful.
Also, the Sally Wainwright thing gets at how there’s an intertextuality (sorry sorry) to television, such that if you watch enough Britcoms, you live in their world, regardless of where you live irl. So when, on “Waiting for God,” they talk about how someone should be “highly strung,” or when the arrival of a German sets forth a whole thing, you know you’re in “Fawlty Towers”-land. This is kind of like how, because I spent my 20s studying French history, I do in fact know that better than U.S., even if aspects of that story will always elude me because I am not A Frenchwoman (by a long shot; I just noticed my sweater is on backwards.)
If I’m suspicious of national essence as key to understanding, it could be that the person I arguably know best, my spouse, is from a different national, language, and religious background than I am. There are of course limits to this—someone with whom you don’t share a language, say—but this idea that culture is uncrossable is just, I don’t know, it doesn’t add up.
And there is no universal without particular. As in no Everyman. Everyone has their specificities, and that includes every sitcom character. I don’t think I understand “Seinfeld” any better than I do “Fawlty Towers.” Something something the human condition.
Excuse me for being a Turnip Truck Rube, but is this any different from enjoying the magical realism of Gabriel García Márquez?
Given that I am reading it in the English translation and in the course of his novels he clearly deviates from reality, is this not considered to be “acceptable” entertainment for a said Rube?
Legit confused as who has the audacity to pass judgement on what anyone enjoys…
My employees did NASCAR, I don’t.
So?
Maybe in my Rubeness I am missing something.