Channel: ABC
When: Tuesdays at 7 p.m.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pfJkusicBa4

If you are thinking, “I could really use a mockumentary-style show detailing the romantic entanglements and careers of the Muppets,” then ABC’s “The Muppets” is the show for you. If you are like the rest of America, however, you may be a bit apprehensive about this half-hour scripted comedy about puppets. Luckily for everyone, I watched it, and I have thoughts.

In the premiere episode, we are introduced to the Muppets as the cast and crew of Miss Piggy’s fictional late night talk show, “Up Late with Miss Piggy.” Kermit the Frog serves as executive producer, Fozzie Bear as announcer, Bobo the Bear as stage manager and the rest of the Muppets falling into crew positions as well, from the writing staff to the in-house band, The Electric Mayhem. This episode deals with what happens when the host of the show, Miss Piggy, refuses to interview a specific guest—Elizabeth Banks. Kermit tries to figure out why she is so against Banks while putting together that day’s show. We see how Kermit and Miss Piggy navigate their recent breakup, as well as what happens when Fozzie Bear meets his girlfriend’s parents. “The Muppets” gives us behind-the-scenes access to the talk show through scenes at the morning production meeting, Kermit’s pre-interview with possible replacement talk show guest Tom Bergeron (“Dancing With The Stars”), and a look at the craft services table, all filmed in “mockumentary” style. They employ the same techniques of popular mockumentary shows like “The Office” and “Modern Family,” including hand-held camera footage and one-on-one talking heads, as we follow the characters through the process of making a late-night talk show.

However, “The Muppets” isn’t just interested in portraying a mockumentary of this fictional show, but also in finding ways to parody the genre itself. In the scene of the production meeting, for example, Kermit tells the table that the documentary crew wants to film more of the one-on-one interviews. We cut to a talking head of Gonzo, the show’s head writer, discussing his thoughts on the device itself. “One-on-one interviews,” Gonzo says, “What an overused device. You tell the camera how you really feel, and then they cut back to you saying something completely different. I hate these interviews.” We then cut back to the production meeting, where Gonzo says, “I love those interviews. Great device.” This scene is just one example of the multiple levels of humor that “The Muppets” attempts and achieves. It works because this style of filming and editing allows for moments of juxtaposition and disjuncture, which helps create these funny lines and moments. But the audience also finds humor in Gonzo’s blatant acknowledgement of the device, and therefore the structure of the show at hand, before he falls right back into the structure. By calling attention to the form, we are reminded of the constructed nature of the mockumentary and just how silly it is that the Muppets are our characters in this one.

Perhaps the best part of a show about the Muppets is the rejection of the idea that these characters are anything but a cast and crew trying to put together a TV show. As Muppets, they are a combination of marionettes and puppets, according to creator Jim Henson, and some are obviously animals—bears, frogs, pigs—while some are humans—the Swedish Chef or the audience hecklers—and some are indefinable—Beaker and, despite his name, Animal. This show plays with their “Muppet” status by allowing Beaker to be electrocuted without repercussion or having Scooter rebound quickly from being thrown off a golf cart. They aren’t actual people; therefore they can do things that real actors may not be able to do, but at the same time, the show commits to the personification of the Muppets. Like always with the Muppets, they have real thoughts and feelings and most of the show revolves around Kermit and Miss Piggy’s relationship and how they deal with the recent breakup. The other human actors—Elizabeth Banks, Tom Bergeron and the live studio audience—interact with the Muppets in the same way they would interact with another human actor. In fact, Fozzie’s girlfriend is a human, played by Riki Lindhome (Garfunkel and Oates, “Another Period”).

“The Muppets,” however, doesn’t ask the audience to suspend its disbelief that it’s
watching a show about puppet hybrids. In one of my favorite layered moments of the show, we see Fozzie meet his girlfriend’s parents. Her father is shocked and can’t help but remark that he “can’t see how it’s ever going to work out.” After all, Fozzie is a…bear. While waiting for the camera to pull back to reveal Fozzie sitting at the table, we wonder just what his problem might be with his daughter’s date. It is common to have a storyline in a television show about a parent’s disapproval of a boyfriend or girlfriend based on race, class or culture, as we have seen time and time again, and “The Muppets” plays with this trope by having the Muppets be discriminated against because of their animal status. This scene, however, is made even funnier by the fact that Fozzie isn’t just a bear, but a Muppet.

While I’m unsure if this humor is enough to sustain “The Muppets” throughout an entire season, it was successful for this episode. The ridiculousness of this show’s premise—a mockumentary about a fictional late-night talk show where the cast and crew are Muppets—allows for parody of form as well as a chance to think about our ability to see television as “real” worlds with “real” characters. This premiere episode was enjoyable because it remained both silly and self-aware. At the same time, “The Muppets” left me with a sense of frustration: Can a woman only get a network late-night talk show if she is a fictional Muppet pig?