Second Take: ‘Seinfeld’ turns art of nothing into 25-year legacy

This weekend, aside from the usual July Fourth festivities, I was busy celebrating another great American tradition, at least one for the millennials: binge-watching my favorite TV show on my laptop.

But this time, I was binge-watching with a purpose. I was on a mission to commemorate a show that pretty much changed my relationship with television by showing me the beauty in absolutely nothing.

Twenty-five years after its first episode aired on July 5, 1989, “Seinfeld” has held its throne as one of the most critically and commercially successful sitcoms ever. And after poring through an unhealthy amount of episodes, I think I may finally have a clue as to why.

“No hugging, no learning”:

This was reputably the motto on set. The formula was in place; there would be no lessons or sentimentality injected into the show. And it worked brilliantly.

The motto was an anti-motto, and in its time, “Seinfeld” was the punk rock of television. The customs and traditions that governed the sitcom world, that there should be a core family-like unit of characters that grow, bond, learn and develop to warm the hearts of viewers, were effectively shattered.

Unlike the Cosbys and Ricardos that came before, our heroes – four unsympathetic, selfish, superficial New Yorkers – did us one solid favor: They never forced us to love them, and refused to grow or learn.

And no character development meant no heartstrings attached. Because although strong character development was, is and will always be in high demand, there were those of us willing to trade in a warm and toasted heart for a good laugh. And that’s what “Seinfeld” gave us.

A Festivus for the rest of us.

Double-dipping, regifting and the art of nothing:

Low-talkers. The kiss hello. The infamous, ill-attempted roommate switch.

For a show about nothing, “Seinfeld” pretty much covered everything. Whereas its contemporaries made and spent their money bringing to screen things that matter in your life, “Seinfeld” championed the things that didn’t, the things that you overlook, but are ever present in your life for better or for worse.

By focusing on nothing in particular, the scope of comedy was limitless; anything the writers found funny was fair game. The show was raw and stayed true to its premise: exposing where comedians get their material. Many of the most iconic episodes, such as “The Soup Nazi” and “The Strike,” were born and crafted out of very real experiences the writing team had living in New York, and the very real people they encountered. The proof was evident; many people who found themselves in the show, even peripherally, also found themselves inevitably a part of popular culture, whether they liked it, or not.

And for its commitment to nothingness, the show became a catchphrase machine. “Seinfeld” brought us some of our most beloved minor characters and phrases: the soup nazi, the anti-dentite and yada yada yada … you know the rest.

Annoyances are timeless, and luckily, so is comedy:

It’s a little hard for me to believe the show is as old as it is. Sure, the puffy shirts are gone and a very young Bryan Cranston has moved on from the beloved Tim Whatley D.D.S. to bigger things, but the show’s bread and butter – the minor annoyances and trivialities in life – haven’t aged a bit.

I mean, who hasn’t stood waiting in a restaurant having been told to wait “just 15 minutes” only to find this time never seems to arrive? Or experienced the painfully confusing etiquettes of gift-giving?

In many senses, “Seinfeld” was postmodern. While every other show was racing its way into your affections, “Seinfeld” was a deliberate step behind. It wasn’t really in a hurry to get anywhere, which may have been its biggest appeal.

By melting away the romance, passion and sentimentality, creators Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld aimed to expose the hilarity in the everyday of our lives, the stuff we take for granted while we’re in our own romanticized, idealized worlds. They dared to tell us to take life a little less seriously.

And whether we like it or not, the beauty is that we’re all a little bit Jerry, a little bit Elaine and a whole lot of George at one time or another. And maybe even a little bit Kramer.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

– Aalhad Patankar