Making a successful spin-off of “The Office” is a seemingly impossible task.
This year, loyal fans eagerly awaited the release of “The Paper,” which premiered on Sept. 4, and claimed to be a nostalgic, worthwhile comparison. The show takes place within the same fictional universe and follows the production crew’s newest project, which is tied to “The Office” storyline.
The first 10 episodes of “The Paper” are reminiscent of its predecessor. There are long, emotive gazes flung at the camera, awkward silences that serve as punch lines, sudden pans and moments taped unknowingly. I admittedly enjoyed this parallel: moments with no particular significance shared amongst total strangers, the habitual acts that bind us and the fleeting instant of realisation that your proximity to a person has ripened into familiarity.
Amidst wildly stimulating television with dystopian futures, dragons, the crumbling of conglomerates and sprees of murders, shows like “The Office” continue to capture our hearts —and attention spans — because they represent something much more intimate.
Between moments of shared laughter and office quarrels, “The Office” captivated an entire generation. We grew to love the characters, overcoming the show’s wall of irony to understand them beyond their initial caricatures. Somehow, we empathize with Michael, we cry when Pam receives her pregnancy test and we are far too emotionally invested in the complex but ever-brotherly relationship of Jim and Dwight.
Several seasons in, I unknowingly began to resonate with Michael as a character. As someone who initially made me roll my eyes with his off-putting and ignorantly misogynistic remarks, he suddenly meant so much more. Personally, this was such a shocking turn of events. Between his slapstick humor and inherently funny existence, he was also perpetually lonely. We can all resonate with Michael’s feelings of isolation, coupled with existential dread, that corporate America always seems to evoke.
I have always been struck by the scene when Michael became an unwavering supporter of Pam’s art. As he purchased one of her paintings depicting their office, the portrayal of Michael as a human slowly crept into view.
Unfortunately, the new characters in “The Paper” are not quite as melodramatic as they could be. In other words, we have already learned too much that grounds them within the realm of sensibility. Their caricature has been majorly uncloaked. The characters seem too scripted and polished — it’s simply unrealistic to believe they’re gradually unfolding workplace personalities.
So, although “The Paper” shows glimmers of “The Office’s” sweetly mundane charm, it has not shown the same ability to develop its characters into fully-fledged people.
Perhaps the initial episodes rushed to establish characters and their dynamics because they knew that as a highly anticipated show, they have something to prove. From the start, there’s an expectant audience: They can’t risk facing accusations of having two-dimensional characters. However, this comes at a cost. They have already lost a key element of comical regularity, and the slapstick humor falls too closely in line with other mainstream television series.
We all have throw-away days — hours on hours of classes, club meetings and on-campus jobs that all blur together. When I get caught up in the whirlwind of school, the moments that stick out, or lighten my day, are often small and insignificant — an off-handed comment made by a random person in my class, the subsequent look I exchange with a friend or the laugh that rumbles through a classroom.
I get so caught up in the “characters” of my mundane moments, just as one would at a boring desk job. It isn’t until months into a semester that I learn something about them, which weirdly takes me by surprise. Only then do I get to see them as more than just a blur of a person in passing. Just like our understanding of characters in “The Office,” the dynamics of acquaintance require a gradual build.
Similarly, the managing editor of “The Paper,” Esmerelda Grand, has already faced online criticism for “being annoying.” This, I believe, could actually work in “The Paper’s” favor. She currently embodies everyone’s favorite conceited boss. With time, who she truly is will hopefully be revealed to the audience in a tantalizingly slow progression. All of a sudden, one day, we’ll realise just how much we’ve come to care about this character we once despised.
If “The Paper” can pull this off, it’ll have captured the essence of “The Office” — the ability to reflect the pace at which we grow to understand the passing characters in our lives.
“The Office” was able to do this, not only through each individual character’s development, but also through the lingering romantic relationships that had all of our eyes glued to the screen. “The Paper,” however, seems to have forgotten the artistic and comedic value of an unrequited love.
Pam and Jim have always been one of my favorite television couples — and I do not have many. To me, they are not just a happy ending. They represent, with much precision, “the office crush.” They represent the kind of love that seeps out from within the label of acquaintances. Few people are bold enough to act preemptively on a crush whose mutuality is undetermined, and I am not one of these people. I find something arguably more romantic in the prolonged uncertainty of love that eventually becomes too grand to conceal.
This romance is not portrayed through shouted gestures and bouquets of flowers, but rather lingering smiles, the incidental brush of hands and remembering her favorite flavor of yogurt for no apparent reason.
I waited four expectant seasons for Pam and Jim to start dating, and for what follows these moments of subtlety. In “The Paper,” however, the parallel couple Ned and Mare share their first kiss after just 10 mere episodes. It then completely lost its element of the forbidden fruit. By rushing the relationship between Ned and Mare, “The Paper” dissolves this fantasy for me. Although still engaging, it simply doesn’t resonate.
“The Paper” has promise. But the truth is — there’s something missing. “The Paper’s” elements of normalcy pale in comparison to “The Office.” The slow burn of an office romance, the delightful tedium of a colorless day. If “The Paper” hopes to reach those heights, it’s going to have to slow down and chill out – just a little bit.
Audrey Green SC ’27 likes to bake using a wooden spoon instead of a KitchenAid. Similarly, she likes to drive her old car as she does not trust the various gadgets of new ones. Audrey remains unconvinced that such technologies can supersede her own skill and stubbornness.
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