For most of television’s history, the sitcom reigned supreme. From its earliest days, it was a very recognizable format, one that gave Americans a shared cultural touchpoint, characters that felt like family members and a light-hearted escape from everything from the Vietnam War to rampant inflation to their own personal travails. So it should be concerning to the industry that the sitcom seems to have largely disappeared. There are, to be sure, a few holdouts like ABC’s Abbott Elementary and The Paper, Peacock’s The Office spinoff, which do feel like old-school sitcoms and some newcomers like HBO’s I Love LA, which don’t, but overall the genre has been in a long-term tailspin and for the industry at large, that is not a good thing. Why It Matters There are many reasons to mourn the death of the sitcom. But from a purely business perspective, there’s the fact that sitcoms were in many ways a money printing machine for the industry. Advertiser-Friendly To begin with, advertisers loved sitcoms. The plotlines were cheerful and largely uncomplicated, the ad breaks rarely disruptive. That, advertisers believed, put audiences in a much more receptive frame of mind for their products than a scene where, say, a detective uncovers that a beloved teacher is actually a child molester or a main character is diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. Sure drama may have worked for insurance companies, but soft drinks, sporting goods and airlines? Not so much. Low Production Costs Sitcoms could also be shot on a tight budget—the biggest decision was often single camera or multi-camera. The plots were all character driven and thus there was no need for expensive locations and sets. (think the Friends’ apartments or the Dunder-Mifflin offices.) Many sitcoms also relied on up-and-coming standups and/or little-known actors who did not need to be paid impressive salaries. At least not until the series became a bona fide hit. And at 22 minutes runtime, there was not much show to actually physically produce. Merchandising Popular sitcoms lent themselves to a vast array of merchandising opportunities, everything from t-shirts to towels to toilet paper. The catchphrases, everything from Jimmy JJ Walker’s “DY-NO-MITE!” to Archie Bunker’s “Stifle dingbat!” provided ample free marketing, both while the show was on and then, years later, when it ran in syndication. (“Marcia! Marcia! Marcia!” is still a popular meme some 50+ years after middle child jealousy first reared its center-parted head.) Syndication This is the real tragedy of the death of the sitcom. For those of you unfamiliar with traditional TV economics, the general rule of thumb was that once a series had run for around 5 seasons or 100 episodes it was eligible to be sold for syndication, both to local broadcasters in the U.S. and to distributors overseas. Given that most network series produced about 22-24 episodes/year, a long running series could rack up close to 200 episodes, or something like a new episode every weekday for eight or nine months during a typical syndication run. That sort of volume ensured a steady stream of income for the people who created the show—the producers, writers, actors and editors—and you only needed a moderately successful hit (think Malcolm In The Middle) to create generational wealth. More than that though, it made many of these shows into cultural touchpoints years after they’d gone off the air—I dare you to find an Xer who can’t describe the staircase in the Brady house. Now part of what killed off syndication was streaming—you can’t sell the syndication rights if you plan on keeping them for yourself. Which is why investing in 22 episode seasons quickly fell out of favor. Emotional Impact From an audience POV, the bonds created by sitcoms are unmatched by any other genre. Yes, the sort of people who leave sharply worded comments on the New York Times website followed shows like The Sopranos and Succession with the sort of zeal they once devoted to dissecting Vampire Weekend CDs, but for sheer mass appeal, those shows had nothing on sitcoms. Audiences identified with their favorite sitcom characters, thought of them as their friends, sorted their own friend group by who would be the Rachel, who would be the Monica, who would be the Joey. They may not have been high art, but they most definitely struck a chord. And in terms of plotting and character development and camera work and pacing, they were leagues better than so much of what dominates the creator ecosystem today. That matters because over time those shows became comfort food, what people watch when they want to feel loved and calm and nostalgic. Something they will actively seek out. And if in 30 years that thing is still a beloved TV series and not a TikTok creator or a microdrama then that is a win for TV. But without a fresh supply of new blood, that is unlikely to be the case. They Can Deal With Politics Few people like having politics shoved down their throats. But when it is done with a heavy dose of humor, it can often seem tolerable. Which is why we’re seeing the season’s South Park, which has taken on politicians from all across the political spectrum, turning its gaze to President Trump. And why 50+ years ago, All In The Family was able to address topics ranging from racism to sexism in a way that didn’t seem quite so cringe. Even when they didn’t address an issue head-on, sometimes just by existing sitcoms helped us to process our rapidly changing society. The way The Mary Tyler Moore Show helped America wrap its head around the notion of unmarried career women. And One Day At A Time gave a face to divorce. A Stable Workforce Sitcoms were also a key part of what made working in Hollywood such an attractive career, one that pulled in many of the best and the brightest creative minds. First and foremost, there was the promise of a pot of gold at the end of your particular rainbow in the form of that hit series that got picked up for syndication. And in its absence, there was a well-paid career that vaguely resembled a traditional 9 to 5. I say “vaguely” because Hollywood has always been a series of overlapping gigs punctuated by periods of unemployment, but if you were a writer or a producer on a sitcom, your work schedule was largely predictable, the August to June timeline largely coincided with your kids’ school year, you had major holidays off and you commuted daily to your job somewhere in Los Angeles or Burbank. So while it wasn’t as stable as being a bank manager, it was a pretty sweet life. One that no longer exists in the world of 8 episode streaming series that shoot wherever and whenever the leads are available. And don’t offer syndication riches. This is a bigger problem than it may sound on paper. The creative community in Los Angeles has been devastated by the collapse of the monoculture. Not so much the people you hear about getting laid off—though it sucks for them too—but for the set designers and key grips and script supervisors and the like who can no longer find enough gigs to keep them afloat. So there’s that too. What You Need To Do About It If you are one of the streaming services, one of the better-funded FAST services, or even YouTube, it may be time to look at reviving the sitcom. As in the 22-episodes a year sitcom. Yes, the problem with 22 episodes versus 6 or 10 is that quality gets diluted. But what you lose in quality, you more than make up for in presence, in that sense fans get that you are there for them week in and week out, that the show is not some rare gift to be cherished, but rather, a constant presence, up there with air, water and a strong WiFi signal. If you go that route and seek to revive the sitcom, remember that art thrives on change, that the idea is to draw inspiration from prior eras rather than just copy them wholesale. So figure out what a sitcom should look like in 2026. Should it be animated like South Park, American Dad, Bob’s Burgers and Family Guy, or is live action okay too? And if it is, can you do that for shows about families and older adults, or is live action only okay for Extremely Hip Horvathian 20-somethings? Remember too that we are no longer in the era of “If you build it, they will come.” Meaning you will need to find ways to pull people in, to promote your show beyond the usual Hollywood half-assed attempts at social media. You will need to have full-on strategies for distribution and fan engagement. For creating international audiences and vertical video viewers. Podcasts and substacks. You’ve got to think like Walt Disney and be able to answer the question that if your sitcom was a theme park attraction, what would the ride be? What would they serve at the snack bar? What songs would be playing as background music? Because all that matters now. This is the world we live in and the people who know the answers to these questions are not working in your mailroom. You need to go out and find them. If you are an advertiser and you are prone to saying things like “our audience is everyone with a mouth” then sitcoms may be a perfect vehicle for you. Meaning you might even sponsor one rather than just run ads on it. You know, really old school. Because here is the thing: the first one to crack that code, to get people writing and posting about the “rebirth of the sitcom”? Those people will be able to partake in the proverbial pot of gold. Same pot. Different rainbow. |
