Beyond Fabulous: A Look at the 2003 Fall TV Season

Just five years ago, Will Truman and Jack McFarland received the same reception when they were introduced to America. Smart, funny and completely non-threatening, the two gay characters from Will & Grace were embraced like prodigal sons—and to this day remain honored guests in millions of American homes.

Those reactions affirm the incredibly vital role television plays in introducing us and our lives to mainstream America—and the powerful responses people have to those images. To paraphrase Sally Field, "They like us. They really like us!"

That said, I don’t think we can set too much store on those warm-fuzzies. When my friend Tori got misty-eyed over the Queer Eye episode when a disheveled guy got a "make-better" so he could propose to his Armenian girlfriend, I mentioned it was ironic his five gay helpers couldn’t enjoy the same experience because they don’t have the right to marry. Tori looked at me blankly for a moment, and finally said, "Oh. I never thought of it that way. How sad is that?"

What’s truly sad is that people like Tori, who genuinely see themselves as passionate, vocal allies of gay and lesbian people, don’t always get that those "fabulous" gay images on television do not reflect the often-challenging real world we live in. How many Queer Eye viewers realize effervescent Carson Kressley could be fired from his job in 37 states just because he’s gay? Or that, until this past June, food and wine expert Ted Allen risked being arrested and thrown in jail in 13 states if he dared to have sex with his longtime partner in their own home?

At its best, television does change culture and stretch people. But in order for that to happen, the characters and the issues have to resonate with life outside the tube. I grew up watching Archie Bunker’s unrepentant bigotry and remember how it became fodder for heated discussions between my parents and their friends about the hot topics of the day—integration, school busing and white flight. Archie’s opinions were as real to them as their own—precisely because he was drawn from the day-to-day reality of their own lives.

Most of today’s gay characters, as amusing as they may be, are too airbrushed to reflect that kind of gritty reality. Compare Will Truman with Archie Bunker—or another groundbreaking character of his time, George Jefferson. Those characters— and their hugely popular shows—were willing to take risks with controversial dialogue and storylines. Archie and George played for laughs, but their stories challenged racism and bigotry. And in so doing, they changed America.

That’s why it is so disheartening to see the state of romantic affairs on Will & Grace. Now entering its sixth season, the show has become increasingly reliant on Hollywood star power to compensate for the fact the show has lost its edge and is well on its way to becoming an anachronism. This year, Oscar-winner Mira Sorvino guest-stars as the ex-girlfriend of both perennially celibate Will and Leo, Grace’s new husband. Mira’s a great actress—but she’s no compensation to audiences and critics who are tired of asking, "So when is Will going to get some?"

Good comedy is based in reality. And the refusal to give a healthy, handsome leading man who yearns for romance the very thing he seeks keeps Will & Grace in the realm of the surreal. There’s a myriad of brilliant plot lines and quips that could come with an exploration of that relationship. But until show producers pull Will from the purgatory of a truncated life without love or sex, he—and the show—are nothing more than an amuse-bouche—a little palette pleaser that makes you crave a real meal.

That’s not to say a touch of light comedy isn’t necessary in troubled times. One reason Queer Eye was a runaway hit this summer was that it offered a lighthearted contrast to the malignant voices of doom that crawled out of the shadows after Lawrence v. Texas.

Professional homophobes declared open season on "those homosexuals" and blamed us for everything from the appalling rate of straight divorces in this country to the probable destruction of Western Civilization. No wonder America took Carson and Company to heart.

As appealing as the Fab Five may be, a steady diet of dishy one-liners is ultimately unsatisfying. And there’s some hope for a substantial meal in the coming debut of ABC’s It’s All Relative—which portrays a gay couple and their engaged college-age daughter—and two warring sets of in-laws-to-be. The spirit of "All in the Family" could live on.

In a world where political and religious leaders lobby endlessly to push us back into the closet, America deserves substantive representations of our lives on the small screen. If broadcast television is to remain true to its heritage—and its potential—it must again take the risk of being controversial. Give us programming with a little meat on its bones—there’s a starved audience out there salivating for it.