I saw Dinner for Schmucks last week, and what failed in the movie reminded me of what works on The Office and makes the show so unusual.
In Schmucks, Steve Carell plays Barry, a man so uncomprehending of even basic human interactions that he’s unbelievable. When he gets hit by a car, he doesn’t realize that the driver pays the person who got hit, not the other way around. His boss can successfully use mind control on him because Barry doesn’t realize how ridiculous the idea is. His greatest endeavor is to stuff mice and put them in idyllic scenes…and that’s the most plausible of his eccentricities. In other words, he resembles no one you actually know.
Movies don’t all need to be believable. But because all movies are practically required to have a character arc, Barry is forced into doing much more than being a token idiot. He becomes the figure of sincerity that reminds Paul Rudd, and by extension the audience, of their core sentimental values. But how can Paul Rudd be swayed by a man who thinks that “not leaving the chair” means picking it up and moving it with you? It’s a great gag, but it puts the movie in the realm of lesser E.T. knock-offs; Barry is so ridiculous that he’s not of this world.
It would seem, on the face of it, that The Office is running a similar risk – Carell’s Michael Scott is deeply unaware of how people see him, and his role is primarily as the laughingstock. Yet he’s gradually evolved into a character we’re supposed to identify with, largely by showing vulnerability and sporadic decency. But unlike Barry, Michael Scott is like people you work with, so Michael’s transformation into a figure of sympathy actually works.
In fact, it does much more than simply allow the show to make him palatable. Michael Scott’s periodic moments of humanity give The Office a sense of ambiguity that is distinctive. When I watch it, I often have the feeling that I am being tested. By alternately alienating and affecting the audience, he’s a sort of challenge to the viewer to stretch the boundaries of whom they can relate to and sympathize with. It sounds simple, and probably is, but mainstream shows, especially sitcoms, rarely ask us to do that. Usually, we know whom we’re rooting for, or we’re not rooting for anybody at all. The Office, meanwhile, has slowly turned a schmuck into a protagonist.
