NBC lost its nerve when it lost Friends
Let’s get real: There probably shouldn’t have been a tenth season of Friends. Heck, there probably shouldn’t have been a ninth, either.This isn’t a value judgment—not entirely. Like a lot of long-running sitcoms, Friends arguably peaked around season five. It then had two or three more very good years and was pleasantly forgettable thereafter, aside from the occasional snappy episode or big event. Creatively, the show had more or less run its course by season eight. But that’s not why Friends should’ve ended then. It should’ve ended because the creators and cast had signaled, repeatedly, that they were fine with moving on. Instead, they kept the party going for a variety of reasons—but mainly because NBC kept making offers that were hard to refuse.Before season eight debuted in 2001, there were rumors it might be the show’s last, given that the cast was already moving into movies and their contracts were expiring. But then 9/11 happened, the nation craved comfort TV, Friends’ ratings surged, and well….Remember that 30 Rock line about how NBC’s core business strategy in the 2000s was “Make it 1997 again by science or magic?” That was more or less the network executives’ approach to Friends for its final two seasons. Keep the cash cow fed—even when it became unprofitable to do so.In Bill Carter’s excellent early 2000s TV history Desperate Networks, he describes the state of play for NBC circa 2004. For 20 years, the network had dominated Thursday night with an unbroken string of popular, Emmy-winning sitcoms (with The Cosby Show and Cheers in the ’80s giving way to Seinfeld and Friends in the ’90s) and dramas (with L.A. Law giving way to ER). The NBC executives had built their whole schedule around that night, producing lineups that collectively outpaced their competition. Then ABC, CBS, and Fox started catching up at the start of the 21st century, with a mix of reality shows like Survivor and American Idol and exciting new dramas like Lost, Desperate Housewives, Grey’s Anatomy, and CSI. Suddenly, even Thursday nights were back in play.NBC’s Thursday night juggernaut (so imposing that the network coined the term “Must See TV” to describe it) had been challenged before. In the early ’90s, Fox took on The Cosby Show with The Simpsons; and in the mid-’90s, CBS moved Murder, She Wrote to Thursdays to counter-program Friends. But pre-2000, NBC had always been able to pass the torch cleanly from one set of popular shows to another. That wasn’t so easy by 2004.When Seinfeld signed off for good in 1998 (after Jerry Seinfeld rejected the kind of massive payday the Friends cast would later receive), NBC plugged that hole for a couple of seasons by moving its Tuesday night hit Frasier into the Seinfeld slot. But the network soon found it hard to develop its seemingly endless supply of “good enough to kill 30 minutes” sitcoms into modest hits—a formula they’d relied on throughout the latter half of the ‘90s. The Suddenly Susans, Just Shoot Me!s and Veronica’s Closets were replaced by the likes of The Weber Show, Inside Schwartz, Leap Of Faith, and Good Morning, Miami.To be fair, NBC’s Thursday night lineup in the early 2000s also included, at various times, Will & Grace and Scrubs. But there was a distinct lack of zeitgeist-defining hits in the pipeline when Friends ended its eighth season in 2002. So NBC gave the show’s cast a raise (reportedly to $1,000,000 per episode) for season nine, then renewed that contract for an abbreviated season 10. Production costs rose to the point that they ate up a lot of Friends’ considerable per-episode revenue. But at least the network still had a guaranteed Top 10 show to anchor their Thursday night.Did this decision pay off? There are three ways to break that question down.The first is financial; and look, unless we have access to the accounting books for NBC and Warner Bros. Television, it’s impossible to say whether everyone involved with making Friends (aside from the cast and creators) made enough money off seasons nine and 10 to justify their expense. Friends has lived on in syndication and on streaming, so those episodes are still generating revenue. But an eight-season show might’ve commanded just as much in licensing fees in this modern era, where number of seasons and number of episodes don’t seem to matter that much to outlets like Netflix and Max.So how about the creative side? Again, it’s hard to keep any TV show fresh for more than five or six seasons. Sitcoms are especially prone to ossification. Over time, characters stiffen into stereotypes and jokes get repeated so often that they become dryly liturgical—like the part of the church service where parishioners mindlessly mumble the creeds in unison. But also like a church service, watching the same sitcom week after week can be stabilizing, reassuring. This is why hit sitcoms run so long. Dramas have to keep coming up with stories and stakes. With a well-liked sitcom, all fans really want is to hang out with their
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