An untangled web they weave

The British sure do know how to use the whole buffalo.

That is to say, their television comedy scripting is phenomenally tight. There is no part of the script that does not prove vital; comic elements tie in with one another like a magnificent jigsaw puzzle or the infinite gems of Indra’s Net.

As of late, I’ve been compelled to revisit some truly great British comedies, such as “Spaced” (from the creators of “Shaun of the Dead”) and “Fawlty Towers” (co-created by John Cleese of “Monty Python”). Watching, I was riveted like a World War II-era B-24 on the assembly line. (Don’t mention the war.)

These classics, both modern and past, have an oeuvre (snobby French for “body of work”) that spans fewer episodes than it takes Jack Bauer to find out who’s really behind the most recent worst day of his life. Both of these shows ran for fewer than 10 episodes in each of their two “series” or seasons.

Conversely, an American series is generally only considered successful upon reaching five seasons ““ or 100 episodes. From that point forward, there are enough reruns to rebroadcast five nights a week, and the cast and creators can grow fat from the residuals of each showing.

So where does this overwhelming emphasis on quantity over quality come from?

A lofty theory of mine is that, perhaps, we lack the strong tradition of literature and theater like that of Britain dating back before that bard from Stratford-upon-Avon.

Plays were written with elaborately constructed climaxes and denouements, thoroughly mapped character development, and carefully plotted narratives.

It seems that British television takes this philosophy writ large, with a dash of a Homeric oral epic for good measure. Each episode reads like a clever novella.

With American shows, the promise of today is often expected to be the long-running and rousing success of tomorrow. Any tiny seedling of cleverness must be planted before its time and awkwardly cultivated in a haphazard manner buried beneath layers of manure.

One of this fall’s new shows that seems to suffer from syndication ambitions is “Aliens in America.”

The show is based on the premise of a Pakistani exchange student who helps a socially inept high school student survive the vicissitudes of his teenage years.

This promising concept is thrown to the wolves like a Spartan child as the show constantly changes its direction. Is the sister a love interest for the exchange student or not? Didn’t she have a boyfriend the last episode? Is the father a closet homosexual?

Unlike the shaggy bangs of Sam Sheepdog, these loose threads hanging before our eyes blind us to the networks’ Ralph Wolf-esque culling of the herd of mindless sheep.

The absolute antithesis of British writing is “Family Guy,” whose ceaseless and arbitrary non sequiturs pale in comparison to the expertly crafted stream-of-consciousness humor of “Monty Python’s Flying Circus.” Cutaways in “Family Guy” prove just to be for a quick laugh, but jumps between sketches in “Monty Python” progress the story of the episode. Manatees assembling nouns, verbs and pop-culture references pales in comparison to the flawlessly sound internal logic of each “Flying Circus” installment.

Yet for perhaps the most dramatic demonstration of the gulf between the U.K. and the U.S., we need look no further than series and actors that have made the jump across the pond.

The original U.K. version of “The Office” ran for 12 episodes in two series in two years, while the American version is going to clock in with 81 in four seasons by Spring 2008.

And before he was the cantankerous and titular Dr. Gregory House, actor Hugh Laurie cultivated a strong following while starring in the four seasons of the BBC comedy series “Blackadder.”

As of now, there are more episodes remaining until House achieves syndication (and so can be considered a success) than were aired in the six years that “Blackadder” spanned.

While deliberate pacing is by no means useless, the American philosophy behind writing lends itself so heavily to stalled character development and painfully drawn-out plot elements that it proves to be a disservice to viewers.

(Don’t give me another show where the audience wonders “will they or won’t they?” about the attractive leads for three plus years).

The modus operandi that encompasses both the American and British writing philosophies is simply (depending on your cadence): They make so much ““ that is good.

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