Season One of The Cosby Show Introduces a Family For Many to Cherish

On Wednesday night, PBS aired the presentation of the annual Mark Twain Award to a comedian of outstanding caliber, and this year’s recipient was Bill Cosby. I watched, enjoying both the tributes and the clips of his own routines, and it made me appreciate anew the brilliance of the man, who I had the pleasure of seeing live in Erie several years ago. If you were to ask me to name my favorite humorist, it’d be a toss-up between Garrison Keillor and Cosby, and if I were to compare my average number of laughs while listening to A Prairie Home Companion and watching The Cosby Show, I’m pretty sure the latter would come out the winner.

The Cosby Show is one of those series I just always remember being there. I think I must have watched it from a very early age, always identifying with adorable Rudy Huxtable (Keshia Knight-Pulliam), the youngest of the large family, and laughing riotously over the antics of her intelligent, compassionate and utterly goofy father. By this point, I imagine I’ve seen a majority of the episodes, since the show always seems to be in syndication somewhere. But my favorites are from the early seasons, before the family expanded to include in-laws and grandchildren. Season one, with its focus on all those ordinary child-rearing hurdles that so many parents face, is probably the most iconic of all.

The first episode, Theo’s Economic Lesson, quickly establishes the dynamic of the family and the parenting styles of suave lawyer Clair (Phylicia Rashad) and overwrought obstetrician Cliff (Bill Cosby). One conversation with Theo (Malcolm-Jamal Warner), a slacker in his early teens and the only boy in the family, is particularly memorable, as Cliff tries to hammer in some sense about the importance of a good education and the realities of adult money management. At one point, Theo earnestly appeals to his father to simply accept him for who he is, a D student, a plea that in schmaltzier territory like Full House would likely elicit a tender hug. Instead, Cliff responds with an exasperated, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life!” “I am your father,” he says moments later. “I brought you into this world, and I’ll take you out!” No, Cliff does not mince words. Nonetheless, even in the midst of a lecture such as this, his deep affection for his children is readily apparent.

Season one is filled with scenes that demonstrate his hands-on parenting approach. Another especially memorable one occurs in the second episode, Goodbye, Mr. Fish, in which Cliff, having been informed by pesky pre-teen Vanessa (Tempestt Bledsoe) that Rudy’s pet fish has died, decides to respect her sense of loss and initiate her into the rites of mourning by holding a toilet-side funeral, complete with formal attire. His over-the-top reaction to the death is very sweet and funny, while Clair, in her serene, quiet way, has a better sense of what Rudy really needs right now.

Of course, sibling relationships are very important to the show as well. Watching some season one episodes recently, I was struck by the closeness of Theo and his older, eclectic sister Denise (Lisa Bonet). Nowhere is that more apparent than in A Shirt Story, in which she offers to make him a replica of a designer shirt for his night out, only to discover that her skills as a seamstress could use a little fine-tuning. Rudy and Vanessa tend to pair up as well, though more often than not, they are bickering. Away-at-college Sondra (Sabrina Le Beauf) is largely out of the picture here, not showing up until the tenth episode, in which she must overcome Cliff’s objections to her desire to spend a summer abroad in Paris.

I’ve watched a lot of family-themed sit-coms and enjoyed many of them, but none can match the sincerity, the razor-sharp wit and the sense of a familial bond apparent on The Cosby Show. These are children and parents - and often grandparents, particularly Cliff’s stern but twinkly-eyed dad Russell (Earle Hyman) - who kid around with one another relentlessly but always maintain the utmost respect for each other (as demonstrated in Theo and the Joint, in which Theo corners a peer who dropped a joint into his bookbag, desperate to prove to his parents that he is in the clear even though they‘ve already said they believe him), who grumble about all the chaos but honestly revel in it (as shown in You‘re Not a Mother Night, in which Cliff tries to give an overtaxed Clair an evening of child-free ease).

There’s plenty for children to relate to here, as Cosby’s scripts show a keen understanding of how kids’ minds work. I always thought of Rudy in particular, who was about my age, as a potential pal and could relate to her feelings on a number of issues. There’s a perfect balance of juvenile concerns and adult situations, with some scenes more likely to appeal to kids but none inappropriate for them. The humor is clean, and you never know when they might slip in something educational, especially pertaining to music. And while Cliff and Clair tease each other, it’s also obvious in every episode just how in love they still are. In so many shows of this type, especially from the past decade or so, it seems like the spouses spend so much time barking at one other that it’s a wonder how they ever got together in the first place. After watching Ray and Debra and Frank and Marie snipe at each other for half an hour on Everybody Loves Raymond, Cliff and Clair’s constant flow of romantic gestures is so refreshing.

Several years ago, I read the autobiography of Nichelle Nichols, who played Lt. Uhura on Star Trek. In it, she recalled an encounter she had with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.. Frustrated with the way her role was often diminished by the network, she had been contemplating quitting, but Dr. King thanked her for her work and told her that she was breaking down barriers, and so she stuck with it. I can’t help thinking that the same could be said of Bill Cosby and everyone else involved with this remarkable show. Here was this warm, witty, wonderful family, and while the show often took the opportunity to celebrate their culture, their experiences cut across all sorts of divides. No matter what their background, people can find in the Huxtables a family to admire, to laugh with and to love.

Campy Life on Mars Pays Tribute to the 70s

The fifth season of LOST was very much wrapped up in the 70s, one of my favorite decades. When I realized how important that era would be to the season, I couldn't help but wonder whether LOST and Life on Mars, the trippy, campy throwback crime drama that aired in the next time slot, were in cahoots. Life on Mars was a remake of the British show that ran for two seasons. Each contained eight episodes, making it almost exactly the length of the U. S. edition, which ran for 17 episodes, though series creators were hoping to go longer than one season. At least there was sufficient notice to give the show some resolution, though I wonder whether the series got the intended ending; it's hard to tell when a series is cancelled at the last minute like that, though I would hope they had the conclusion in mind from the outset.

Ironically enough, Life on Mars is a British import starring an Irishman acting the part of an American (who, in one episode, has to go undercover as an Irishman). Jason O'Mara is Sam Tyler, the detective who is utterly bewildered to find himself zapped to 1973 after a car accident. The show actually began airing in the fall, and previews led me to believe that Lisa Bonet ("in her first television appearance since The Cosby Show!") would play a major role in the series, but her part was much smaller than I expected. However, other characters, along with the terrific setting and the mysterious premise, were enough to keep me watching.

Sam is a pretty ordinary modern guy. A decent fellow who loves his mother, who raised him almost single-handedly, and cares deeply about justice, he is startled by some of the methods employed by the police force of the 70s and troubled by revelations he receives about his own family in the course of his work. Although the show is billed as a drama, I was never entirely able to take it seriously because it spends so much time consciously parodying the 70s, and in particular cop shows of the 70s. There are many sly winks at the audience that are a lot funnier if you are familiar with the pop culture of that decade. Of course, some of the references are hard to miss, like Sam's use of the pseudonym Skywalker when he first meets his mother (Jennifer Ferrin) in the past.

The show is mostly episodic, with a new case to solve every week, but at the same time, Sam is collecting clues about his past and trying to piece together just what happened to land him in this strange place. Sam finds himself in a department run by Lieutenant Gene Hunt (the superb Harvey Keitel), who is a tough guy who doesn't mind throwing his weight around, though underneath all that intimidation is a heart of gold. His most antagonistic coworker is Ray (Michael Imperioli), a crude, seemingly misogynistic man with a mustache half the size of his head. Balancing him out is ambitious Annie Norris (Gretchen Mol), who longs to gain detective status and who is the only one in the department who thinks there might be something to Sam's insistence that he comes from the future. There's also Chris (Jonathan Murphy), a sweet, Jimmy Olsen-ish sort of character who is the young buck on the force, and at Sam's apartment building is an eccentric, free-spirited woman named Windy (Tanya Fischer) who flits in and out of his life. Fischer and Bonet appear in the same number of episodes, but Fischer makes a much bigger impression.

Every episode is filled with little jokes making the most of the time frame, but the best evocation of the era comes in the form of the music. My jaw dropped when I watched the conclusion of the second episode, which has Sam and Windy dancing together to Simon and Garfunkel's I Am a Rock on the record player. Just two episodes later, Sam recognizes his mother to the tune of Simon's Mother and Child Reunion. Finally, toward the end of the season, it was back to the duo with Fakin' It for a scene in which Annie goes undercover. I spent most of LOST's fifth season waiting for Simon and Garfunkel to turn up on the Dharma record player, and while I was never satisfied on that score, it was nice to know that I was likely to have more luck with Life on Mars, which also featured music by Elton John, Ringo Starr, the Partridge Family, Cat Stevens, Three Dog Night and the Turtles, among many others. Not only is Jim Croce's Bad, Bad Leroy Brown the backdrop to a raucous bar fight, but Sam actually rubs elbows with the tragically short-lived troubadour in one scene and warns him to stay away from small airplanes.

That's one of the few instances in which Sam does something in a conscious effort to change the future. Like season five of LOST, Life on Mars is very preoccupied with issues of meddling with the established space-time continuum. On both shows, one especially difficult decision involves the question of whether it is morally permissible to kill a child, knowing he will otherwise grow up to be a reprobate. While one character on LOST sees himself as an infant, Sam is actually able to interact with his pint-sized self, though he resists the opportunity for a long time, fearing the consequences. Ultimately, Sam's situation doesn't resonate quite as strongly with LOST as I had suspected, but I enjoyed contemplating parallels from week to week, especially when both shows explored similar issues on the same night.

I missed a few episodes of Life on Mars in the fall, when I often worked the evenings it aired and didn't have LOST as a lead-in. I understand that one of those episodes was especially well done and gave the tantalizing impression of a complex mythology underpinning the plot. However, as I mentioned before, I was never able to invest myself in the show fully. The gap between LOST and Life on Mars is comparable to the way I experienced Harry Potter and A Series of Unfortunate Events. While I found the latter very entertaining, those characters never became real to me as J. K. Rowling's did. They were more like caricatures, and even during the most perilous moments, I couldn't muster up very passionate feelings of concern. So even before I realized that Life on Mars was getting just one season, I didn't expect the ending to move me much or make a lot of sense. From that viewpoint, I found the conclusion strange but mostly satisfying, and certainly less depressing than some I had envisioned. I didn't love it, but I didn't hate it either. However, some of my friends despised it, and that seems to be a common opinion, so that may be something to consider before you commit to all those viewing hours.

If you don't mind a bit of the nonsensical, check out Life on Mars for the outstanding soundtrack, the amusing homages to the 70s and the great performances, especially by Keitel, whose character is much more complicated than he at first appears. It's a shame the show got cut short; I was hoping for another team-up with LOST. But as a stand-alone season, it's a fun, retro romp, so if you think you'd like to get to know Sam Tyler and his pals, hitch a ride with the Rocket Man and get ready for Life on Mars.