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Elon Musk thinks Friends is not funny. Unfortunately I have to agree with him this once

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Ayaan Paul
Ayaan PaulSep 28, 2023 | 16:41

Elon Musk thinks Friends is not funny. Unfortunately I have to agree with him this once

Elon Musk, the billionaire with a penchant for stirring controversy, has recently set his sights on the iconic American sitcom Friends with all the subtlety of a rocket launch. But for once (and hopefully the very last time), I can’t help but agree with him.

During its ten-season run from 1994 to 2004, Friends captured the hearts of countless viewers, amassing a devoted fanbase. However, as with any cultural phenomenon, there are those who hold a differing opinion about the show and welcomed Musk's jest.

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Musk took to X, sharing a meme that poked fun at the sitcom, accompanying which was a simple caption: 'I mean' followed by a shrugging emoji.

This move ignited a flurry of reactions from Musk's followers, revealing a divided response. Detractors of Friends emerged with their criticisms, while staunch fans rallied to defend the show's honour. 

As always, the Internet remains the ultimate battleground for opinions, and Musk, well, he's just adding more fuel to the fire, one tweet at a time.

The not-so-hot take

In the pantheon of beloved television sitcoms, Friends occupies a place of prominence. With its enduring popularity and devoted fanbase, the show has etched itself into the cultural zeitgeist. However, a growing (and increasingly relevant) undercurrent of criticism challenges its status as the paragon of humour and entertainment.

At the heart of this dissent lies the contention that Friends may have been somewhat overrated and overhyped. 

Detractors such as myself argue that its humour, which was once hailed as ‘groundbreaking,’ is in fact predictable and formulaic. The show's reliance on certain recurring themes and character traits liken it to a well-worn punchline that has lost its comedic edge.

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The show primarily relies on a predictable pattern of humor, with most jokes centering on the same core themes: relationships, jobs, and the personal quirks of the six main (and very white) characters representing a notably homogenous slice of New York City life. 

This reliance on well-worn comedic tropes can make the humour feel stale upon revisitation. While the characters' antics were often relatable and laugh-inducing in the 1990s, some viewers today find them uninspired and far from innovative.

This myopic perspective has implications beyond mere representation, constraining the show's ability to engage with the multifaceted dynamics of contemporary society.

Furthermore, a significant portion of the show's writing relies on stereotypes and politically incorrect humour that has not aged well. Recurring jokes about Ross's ex-wife, Carol being a lesbian, and Chandler's father's trans identity are often criticised for being insensitive by today's standards. 

Chandler's incessant sarcasm and Monica's obsessive-compulsive behaviour, for example, border on caricature rather than nuanced character development. The show's humour sometimes feels mean-spirited, relying on fat-shaming jokes or poking fun at Ross's divorces.

The series also exhibits a rather dated portrayal of gender roles and relationships, with characters often perpetuating traditional gender stereotypes.

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But let’s set aside all these very relevant qualms for a second because on a very fundamental level, the sitcom that somehow managed to turn mediocrity into a 10-season marathon of irritation, struggles with something that no self-respecting sitcom should ever struggle with: it simply isn’t funny.

Not funny?

For a sitcom of its stature and acclaim, the humour in the show is about as fresh as last week's leftovers, and just as stale. The laugh track must have been on a never-ending loop because it seems to think every weak punchline deserves uproarious applause. 

Chandler's "jokes" are like a bad case of the hiccups – annoying and impossible to ignore.

And then there's Ross, the poster child for frustration. His incessant whining about his love life and paleontological pursuits is like nails on a chalkboard. We get it, you were on a break. Move on already.

Let's not forget about Rachel, who apparently can't decide on a career or a hairstyle. Her spoiled brat routine gets old faster than Joey can down a slice of pizza. 

Speaking of Joey, his dim-witted antics might have been funny in small doses, but after 10 seasons, you'd think he'd have absorbed some IQ points from his surroundings.

As for Monica and her obsessive-compulsive tendencies, they're about as charming as a dentist's drill. It's a wonder the gang put up with her for so long without staging an intervention.

Critiquing the fervent fandom of Friends entails navigating a passionate and often protective community of viewers who hold the show in the highest regard.

These fans often don nostalgia-tinted glasses, remembering the sitcom as the pinnacle of their television-watching lives, as if the show's laugh track was the soundtrack to their existence, and any critique of it is tantamount to sacrilege (prove me right by keeping the hate mail coming).

But it doesn't stop there. 

The characters themselves are elevated to near-mythical status. Joey's womanising ways are seen as endearing, and Ross's emotional rollercoaster of a love life is celebrated rather than analysed.

For some, no sitcom can ever measure up to the Ross-Rachel rollercoaster or the hilarity of the "pivot" scene. They're in perpetual search of the next sitcom messiah, doomed to be disappointed when nothing quite reaches the holy grail of humor they found in Central Perk.

Thanks to the magic of social media, these fans find solace in echo chambers where differing opinions are unwelcome. It's a bit like a digital group hug where they reassure each other that Friends is the alpha and omega of comedy, and all other shows are mere mortals in comparison.

In an era when society is striving for greater sensitivity and inclusivity, Friends unsurprisingly appears increasingly out of touch. But this faithful congregation often resists change, clutching the show's nostalgic values tightly to their chest, refusing to adapt to the evolving landscape of television.

While Friends undeniably holds a special place in the hearts of many and continues to captivate audiences worldwide, the debate surrounding the show's comedic merits and cultural significance remains ongoing, illustrating that even the most iconic sitcoms are not immune to scrutiny and reassessment as societal norms and sensibilities evolve.

Friends is like that friend who never knows when to leave the party – they've overstayed their welcome, and you just wish they'd go home already. 

Its humour has aged poorly, and its reliance on laugh tracks and tired character tropes make it difficult to appreciate as a genuinely funny and enduring show. As with any cultural touchstone, opinions on its value are as diverse as the city it was set in, and the debate over whether it deserves its lofty status in the sitcom hierarchy endures.

But that's probably a bit harsh. To quote Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson more eloquently,

If you're looking for witty, intelligent humour, you won't find it here. Instead, prepare to endure a never-ending parade of irritating stereotypes and tired gags.

I for one, will most definitely not be there for you. (Nor will Musk.)

Last updated: September 28, 2023 | 16:41
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