Everybody Loves Raymond – CliqueClack Flashback

Where have the four years gone? It was on May 16, 2005 that Everybody Loves Raymond said goodbye, and it still hurts. Sure, it’s hard to miss the show when at least ten reruns air a day, and I can re-watch every episode on DVD (which I do often), but that doesn’t change the fact: never again can we look forward to enjoying something new from the brilliant minds of Ray Romano and Phil Rosenthal. At least not in this particular forum.

But instead of wasting our time on tears, lets remember the laughs that we enjoyed for nine long seasons. This was comedy in one of its purest forms, a funny man and his funny family in funny life situations. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t thrust upon us; the humor was there for us to take or leave. And, believe me, I took.

I watched the pilot again a few days ago, and I wanted to share with you just how perfect a synopsis for the show that initial half hour was. The episode opens with Debra (Patricia Heaton) on the phone, trying to juggle dinner for three kids. Ray is away on business, a frequent occurrence that has little to do with how little he does around the house. Ray comes home, gets to each kid mid-mess making, and silences them all with cookies. It may be the most he did in terms of basic parenting over the course of the entire series.

We also catch the first of innumerable ad-libs and off-guard moments provided by cast members: one of the two infant twins had fallen asleep in his chair, clearly not planned (how would an infant fall asleep on cue?), and Ray asks, “Was he drinking again?” Cut to the slumped-over baby, and Patricia Heaton can be seen understandably failing to control her laughter. What was to follow for the next 210 episodes was more of the same: pure, unfettered joy.

The opening credits are another hallmark of Everybody Loves Raymond. The pilot employed the backyard play castle bit, while the rest of the first season went with the conveyor belt. Flying family members and the great operatic opening, amongst others, followed in years to come. The comedy of those moments, particularly the opera, the football game, and Steve Miller Band‘s “Jungle Love,” helped cement the show in my mind.

The pilot also sets us up with just about everything that we need to know in order to successfully spy on these people for the foreseeable future. It took multiple proposals from him for Debra to agree to marry Ray. Frank (Peter Boyle) and Marie (Doris Roberts) are overbearing and nosy; Frank dials in to Ray and Debra’s answering machine, listens to their messages, erases them and then leaves record of them with his own editorial comments. Marie, meanwhile, second guesses Debra on everything from her mothering skills to her bills from Victoria’s Secret. Robert (Brad Garrett) coined the phrase “Everybody loves Raymond,” used in the first episode to comment on his brother’s sports writer’s award. And, unlike on Seinfeld, Ray Romano’s stand-up is to be massaged into the scripts, like his ugly twin bit or his exercise regimen of baby-lifting.

There are also two scenes in the first episode that resonate throughout the rest of the series, and beyond, for very different reasons. The first is when Ray tells his parents off after they ruin Debra’s birthday. It’s the only time that we ever see him really stand up to them in defense of himself and his wife. Of course they don’t listen, but that speech would leave an occasional viewer with the wrong impression of who Ray really is.

The second is quite possibly one of the funniest moments in television history. It also launches an ongoing joke regarding Ray and his inability to give his parents a gift that they appreciate. The “Fruit of the Month” gag is just hilarious, and I regret not being able to find a video clip of it to share with you. Instead, buy the entire series on DVD; if nothing else, it’s worth it just for the one exchange. (And, if you didn’t already know, Phil Rosenthal actually lived the “Fruit of the Month” experience. Wow.)

Everybody Loves Raymond gave us a lot to remember. But more than anything else, we were given five wonderful characters.

Ray Barone: Nothing over the top, never puffing his chest to get us to watch, Ray Romano, a comedian who could not act, played himself and did so brilliantly. Yes, the awkwardness never fully went away, but Ray’s ease with the comedy to be found in everyday situations cured everything that ailed you. His inability to cut the cord with his mother was grating at times, but there’s also a lot of humor to behold when the subject of the joke is laughing with you. Ray’s self-deprecating nature was forever the foundation that held the show up, and my only regret is that I no longer have the opportunity to enjoy his comedy. I wish Romano would come back to us.

Debra Barone: Patricia Heaton made the stereotypical housewife glamorous. There was virtually nothing that Debra wasn’t strong enough to do, and never did she come across as the little woman flittering around, trying to please her husband. On the contrary, if anyone assumed first chair in the Barone household, it was she. Again, not in a stereotypical man-eater way, but in a very modern fashion that doesn’t declare that men and women are equal, it just lives it, unassumingly. That Heaton is also beautiful, and a strong comedian in her own right, only helped to solidify her position. Again, I was disappointed that Debra generally lacked the courage to fully speak her mind to Marie, but I can understand her fear of indirectly hurting Ray, as well as her trepidation at taking on “a parent.” I was grateful that Heaton decided to grace us with her talent on Back to You, and I only hope that she makes another go of it sometime soon; we need her around.

Marie Barone: I have mixed feelings about Marie. On the one hand, I think that Doris Roberts is a world class actress, and Marie could always be counted on for a laugh. The claim that she only acted out of love is true, to an extent, and it’s beautiful to see how easily her heart melts for her family. On the other hand, as I’ve grown up, I’ve begun to find her style of parenting distasteful, almost to the extent of being offensive. That a parent could get away with treating their children as children for so long, without someone putting their foot down, is borderline criminal. It just isn’t funny to see a grown man being forced to hand his dirty pants to his mother so that she can wash them for him. Even if it is true to someone’s life (I pray that Phil and/or Ray don’t seriously experience this), it’s just sad. At times Marie took the joke a bit too far, and I hate to admit it, but sometimes I just plain couldn’t stand her.

Frank Barone: Frank, on the other hand, was always funny, and Peter Boyle’s death was a real blow to the art of acting. Frank could be pushed just so far, before a real person came out, and always when you least expected it. The obvious pain that he carried from his own upbringing colored much of who he became as a father, and he worked hard to shield himself with crotchetiness and bad-temper. Either way, some of the finest moments on Everybody Loves Raymond were Frank moments, and the only shame is that Peter Boyle’s no longer around to create more of them.

Robert Barone: Robert was a sad character, because how does a grown man get so lost in his brother that he begins to find himself inadequate? Whether or not there’s truth in his claims of favoritism (and, I believe him), his own accomplishments should be enough to block out the noise of adolescence. That he’s still haunted by the memories speaks to how severely Marie damaged, and continued to damage, his ability to be a fully functioning adult. In his own way, Robert still needed his mommy to tell him everything was going to be alright. Even so, it was Robert who grew more than anyone else on the show. The pilot saw him more depressed, more moping, than any successive episode of the series. And yet, by the end, Robert found himself a wife and settled into his own life, a place where he may even allow himself to be happy. Novel concept, that.

And all of the above is not to say that the regulars, and guests, who were to come further down the road weren’t memorable as well. To name a few:

Ally, Geoffrey, and Michael Barone: Limited both by their inexperience and by child-labor laws, the Sweetens (Madylin, Sawyer, and Sullivan) added just as much comedy as kids do in Ray Romano’s stand-up routine. While I preferred Ally when she was little (“Stella!”), it was the twins in later years that really made me laugh. Though I don’t see stardom in their future, Geoffrey and Michael knew just how to lighten a mood. Which is to say, they read the lines written for them with authority. (Sorry; just had to!)

Amy MacDougall: Robert’s wife who never should have been. I don’t know what it was, but something was always off for me about Amy, and it wasn’t just that Phil Rosenthal was okay with his wife Monica (Horan) kissing Brad Garrett on a regular basis. I was glad to see that Robert found love, but I don’t think that Amy was the right person.

Hank, Pat, and Peter MacDougall: Her family, on the other hand, were perfect for the show, and for that reason alone I approve of Amy’s presence. Well, for Hank and Peter. Pat (Georgia Engel), Amy’s mother, was a bit of a non-entity. Her quiet ways were in great contrast to Marie, but unassuming piousness was kind of the wrong way to go on this show. The right way was to bring in Fred Willard (Hank) and Chris Elliott (Peter), two seasoned comedians who brought real conflict to the Barone’s front door. Willard was unbelievable as a recurring guest character; I was shocked that he would even come in for a part like that. His pious anger and righteous indignation thrust against all that was Frank was priceless. And it was a nice touch to make Peter a huge fan of Ray’s. Just a little something that got a laugh each time it cropped up.

Judy: Robert’s partner, whose appearances on the show waned and ebbed as the years went by. For the time that she was there, she provided Robert with a sparring partner, a sounding board, and a second half. And Sherri Shepherd is a strong enough actress that she could stand toe to toe with Garrett, even at 5 foot 1.

Father Hubley: Somehow, Father Hubley (Charles Durning) went from being Debra’s priest (when she and Ray got married), to the Barone’s, and while I’m still looking for someone to address that inconsistency, I thoroughly appreciated how the show found room for the very funny Durning. His appearance in various episodes throughout the life of the series was a commentary on how life evolves for many of us, with certain figures (usually religious) only popping up at those key moments. If your story is that of every man, it’s subtleties like the family priest that make it all the more authentic. Plus, who knew men of God were so funny?

Garvin, Albert, and Max: Frank’s lodge buddies were another constant that came and went as the years went by. Yet, each one had something special to contribute. Garvin (Len Lesser), of “Hey, Ray’s here! Ha, ha, ha!” is the brilliant comedian who brought us Uncle Leo on Seinfeld. Albert is Albert Romano, Ray’s father. And Max is Max Rosenthal, Phil’s father. What a tribute to these men that their sons wanted them to be a part of what they had created.

Bill Parker: Not a major role, I’ll grant you, but I always enjoyed the undercurrent of rivalry between Ray and Bill (David Hunt). Mainly because Hunt is Patricia Heaton’s husband. Talk about awkward and amusing!

Peggy Ardolino: Every man needs a nemesis, and the best of us get two. When it’s a woman who bests you in selling girl scout cookies, you know you have the makings of a great arch rivalry. Amy Aquino was hilarious as this divorced mom who first beats, and then seduces (in his mind), Ray into submission. Now she’s a character who I hope really does exist in Ray and/or Phil’s life!

Whew! I’m exhausted. And even so, I feel like I haven’t done this brilliant show justice. I guess you (and I) will just have to go back and watch it all over again; I know I’m about to….

Wait! Before you go! Something I always found to be amusing: when watching Seinfeld on DVD, Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld‘s episode commentaries are funny, but mainly are crammed with a lot of discussion about plot, script, actors, etc. With Phil and Ray on Everybody Loves Raymond? You’re lucky if they stop talking about not wearing pants in the recording studio long enough for one of them to notice that the end credits are rolling. It’s a priceless, unguarded peak behind the scenes of a collaboration that created one of the greatest sitcoms ever to air on television.

I was able to meet Phil Rosenthal at a book signing event for his book, You’re Lucky You’re Funny, and I had only one thing to say to him: “Thank you for the show.” I hope he knows just how sincere I was.

Clacked by Aryeh S.
on May 13, 2009 @ 13:07 EST5EDT