Arrested Development: Truly, Solid As A Rock

My dad and I have done plenty of bonding over the years: backpacking trips to the Wallowas, him telling me to mow the lawn, and, in my more aggressively conservative days, discussing how to win pro-life debates in middle school.

But our biggest bonding occurred at 9 pm every Thursday night...him in his recliner, me in the swivel chair closest to the television...watching Seinfeld.

I started watching the show with him in sixth grade sporadically, much to my mom's chagrin. I didn't understand all of the humor (I distinctly recall believing that Deloris rhymed with the female body part, the "femoris"), but my dad was in stitches so often that I knew I was part of something big. Soccer moms will cry for the shame of our father-son relationship, but throughout my high school years Seinfeld was the tea-time break from any conflict we might have faced at the time. When a particularly bad report card came home, or when I was acting the most like the teenager I was, or even after I killed that drifter for sport, the clouds would clear on Thursday night, and we would laugh together.

Fifteen years on, watching an episode of Seinfeld is more about memories than the comedy itself. After dozens of reruns, the jokes have ceased to surprise. This is one of the greatest elements of comedy: while the meaning of music can change, and while your past musical tastes may cause you to shudder, comedy is always comforting, even if it's not particularly funny anymore.

As I discussed in my review of HBO Original Series, the documentary "The Aristocrats" is evidence of how poorly comedy ages. The hallmark of one generation, the surprise, brilliance and depravity that once caused our ancestors to laugh, rarely holds up years down the line. When Seinfeld was airing, it was the greatest television show (with apologies to MASH and Cheers, shows beloved by folks in there 30's and 40's, respectively) ever seen. It's painful to admit that my children will not understand many of the jokes, not because they won't be smart enough, but because comedy will have progressed to the point where those jokes aren't as funny as they once were.

That's why it is not hyperbole or blasphemy to declare Arrested Development as the greatest television show of all time. At least at this point.

Despite a long and arduous campaign by fans of the show, AD was canceled this year for no explicable reason, and will likely go down as another one of the Fox Network's legendary blunders.

If you haven't seen an episode of Arrested Development, it's time. We get the point: you're different, you don't like just following everyone's suggestions. Maybe you don't like listening to all the snooty critics who praised the show for years. Maybe you distrust shows that win awards. Whatever the cause, you're definitely missing out.

Arrested Development, Season 3 is now out on DVD, allowing the viewer to watch the show in its ideal format: back to back and over and over. The brilliance of AD is in its comedic patience. A line or background prop in the first season becomes the key to a joke in season three, or repeated lines ("Her?", "I've made a huge mistake") twist to take on new meanings. Viewers once marveled at how Seinfeld episodes wrapped up neatly in the waning minutes, a testament to the genius of Larry David, but AD takes writing to a whole new level. Each joke, and especially the repeated ones, are laced with layers of meaning.

Writing aside, AD will have you rolling in laughter, and the experience is only enhanced with repeated viewings. Like Seinfeld, each character seems intrinsic to the plot, and it's hard to pick a favorite.

Except that my favorite is GOB.

If you're already a fan of AD, be assured that season 3 will not disappoint. In closing, I will leave you with a great line for the show, which was actually the first line I came across.

MAEBE: Do you guys know where I could get one of those gold T-shaped pendants?
MICHAEL: That's a cross.
MAEBE: Across from where?