Crashing Pilots: Go On
By David Mumpower
October 3, 2012
BoxOfficeProphets.com

They'll be there for Matt Perry.

As the new Fall TV season reaches full steam this first week of October, I will be taking the opportunity to evaluate several high profile television pilots. I plan to examine roughly four of them, one of which I already know will be canceled in short order. I believe that this will serve a purpose just as gushing over the best pilot of the new season and eviscerating the worst one will also provide utility. Before I get to any of these three, however, I want to celebrate the warmest debuting program of 2012, Go On.

Matthew Perry has been going through a phase and that phase is called “I’ll make a lot of very unpopular television shows.” After Perry’s breakout success in the 1990s’ most enduring sitcom, Friends, he has starred in a couple of unwatched movies, been largely a background player in 17 Again and anchored two television programs. You know the rest.

The more successful of these two is Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, a program I happen to adore. The rest of the universe disagrees with me as Studio 60 was on cancellation watch after about four episodes. Remarkably, this is a stronger performance than Mr. Sunshine managed.

That program was aired on only nine occasions with its cancellation a foregone conclusion after the pilot. Studio 60 was eviscerated for being too Aaron Sorkin-y at a time when the media was profoundly anti-Sorkin. Mr. Sunshine was an exhausting hodgepodge of quirky characters acting quirky solely for the sake of quirkiness. Even the most ardent attackers of Studio 60 would acknowledge that it was a new The Wonder Years for the 2000s in comparison to Mr. Sunshine.

Given the woeful quality of Mr. Sunshine, I was sketchy about the prospects of another Matthew Perry comedy. Its ads during the Olympics screamed Joey! Being a former Friend is a brutal status these days.

This is not just a criticism of Perry, though. Five of the six key members of the cast of Friends are suffering the same fate. None of their careers will ever approach the apex they jointly experienced with the seminal 1990s NBC Thursday night staple.

Lisa Kudrow works in films but her days as a potential lead actress ended before they ever got started thanks to a movie called Marci X (google it). Matt LeBlanc has been reduced to portraying a fictionalized version of Matt LeBlanc in order to keep the paychecks coming. I quite enjoy Courtney Cox’s post-Friends sitcom, Cougar Town, but it was relocated to TBS because the ratings were unacceptable for network television. The ever-pretentious David Schwimmer will eventually embrace a dramatic role in some network or (more likely) cable program, I’m sure. Until then, he seems satisfied to direct in projects such as Trust and Run Fatboy Run.

Despite Aniston’s popularity in mainstream romantic comedies such as Just Go with It and Along Came Polly, I am squarely in the group that considers Perry and Cox the heart and soul of Friends, the anchor players who would be aptly described as The Talent.

Cox is on a perfect vehicle for herself; she is the primary character yet the other cast members are talented enough that they can easily share the weight of the stories. This was the issue Perry faced with Mr. Sunshine. Despite the marvelous surrounding talent, the first three episodes placed too much focus upon him. Based upon its description, my expectation was that Go On would be a similar situation. I am pleased to report that my expectations were subverted repeatedly even as Perry was involved in every scene.

Go On is the latest attempt by NBC to create a clone of The Office to anchor the schedule for years to come. This is particularly important given that The Office is in its final season. Amusingly, NBC has had the perfect show on their schedule for a while now; for whatever reason, Community was never embraced by the network. This created a self-fulfilling prophecy wherein it has not been embraced by mainstream television viewers, either. Parks and Rec is similarly eclectic yet also struggles to exist beyond niche programming. And so the quest continues with Go On.

The premise for Go On is a cheat. Perry portrays a recently widowed man facing a company mandate to complete grief counseling. Coping with loss is the most fragile aspect of human nature. Anyone suffering from such emotional trauma is vulnerable and thereby more appealing. This is the reason why men in romantic comedies are almost always widowed rather than divorced.

If Tom Hanks is a single father trying to overcome adversity, he is worthy of Meg Ryan’s blind devotion. If Hanks is divorced, he’s presumed single because he banged a stripper, his secretary, the nanny or all three (and then some). Every character in Go On is Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle, especially Matthew Perry.

Through a brief but wonderful montage, Go On reveals the hidden pain that drives all of the supporting players on the show. We discover early in the pilot that Perry’s wife has died within the past month. The reveal as to how and why is deftly saved for later. Rather than leave this character, Ryan King, alone with his grief, the sports talk radio host is thrust into a group of similarly suffering individuals.

King quickly befriends them by creating a March Sadness tournament wherein everyone compares their war wounds to determine who has suffered the most. On the surface, this sounds terrible and yet the scene is poignantly humorous from start to finish. There is even an upset to embrace the tournament brackets format. Through this bonding exercise, the grieving widower has stumbled into a room comprised of his new family, the people who will help him enter the next phase of his life and vice versa.

This brings me to the appeal of Go On. When is the last time a television program moved you on an emotional level? Yes, I am sure this has happened but please be honest regarding the subject. How often do you find yourself caring about characters only moments after their introductions? This is the triumph of the pilot. After only a few seconds, Tyler James Williams stopped being young Chris Rock to me (he portrayed the actor in Everybody Hates Chris) and became a grieving brother far too young to handle a traumatic event. And Julie White was no longer the woman I actively despise from the Transformers movies. She was once more a character actress I have always enjoyed rather than pot brownie gulping Mama Witwicky.

The last time a sitcom actively engaged me so quickly in a pilot was Modern Family. Go On’s pilot is nowhere near as good as the perfect Modern Family pilot nor do I expect the NBC show to prove anywhere near as popular. My point is that the sitcom is a dying art on network television.

A zany cast of characters are forced together by the thinnest of circumstances and viewers are expected to believe that the people become inseparable. Community is particularly aggravating in this regard. Why would an undeniably clever lawyer need to study so hard to pass junior college? It fails the laugh test even though the show includes innumerable great jokes.

Go On’s setting, on the other hand, is instinctively a weekly destination because people do need a long time to accept loss and move (well, go) on. The pilot features two tender moments, a rarity on any modern television program. The end of the episode features a Google images chase down the streets that is goofy and over the top but well intended and warmly received. The middle portion of the episode, however, is the highlight for me.

A musical montage demonstrates the pain that each member of the group is attempting to overcome. The “winner” of March Sadness lovingly attaches her victory prize to a photo of her absent loved ones. Flowers are left at a grave before the frustrated survivor kicks the tombstone. A widower faces the prospect of an empty bed. And the most heartbreaking grief is demonstrated in subtle fashion. Go On’s designated “creepy guy” sits alone in a Lamaze class as the other expectant parents prepare for the births of their children. The sequence requires only five seconds yet once the intent is known, it is a devastating backstory. How many sitcoms can you name that are capable of such depth? Currently, the list is one: Modern Family. If others want to join this list, I will happily champion those as well.

I say with confidence that Go On demonstrated more emotional resonance in its pilot than any other sitcom in the 2000s. I am unsure whether the show is capable of sustaining that engrossing level of character development for an extended period, which will be the focus of my follow-up column around the midpoint of the new season. Until then, I recommend Go On as a project that feels nothing like the cheap exploitation comedy I had anticipated. It is instead a touching examination of the grief period with a fair share of laughs to boot.