On 6 March, we finally got to know Kimmy Schmidt, survivor extraordinaire.
After spending half her life trapped in a bunker at the hands of a cult leader, Schmidt and four others are finally rescued and go on to become the “Indiana Mole Women” – a term coined by the media, and one that Kimmy finds just as confining as the bunker itself. So she rejects it. She leaves her fellow survivors behind and starts anew in New York City. It’s difficult, it’s sometimes upsetting (hands up if you wanted to cry when her backpack got stolen) and it’s messy. But Kimmy is unbreakable (and women are strong as hell), so she succeeds.
Or, more specifically, she keeps trying to succeed. And that in itself is enough reason to watch Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt.
There’s something to be said for positivity in comedy, or at the very least, series with heart. Comedies like The Office and 30 Rock merged near-perfect joke writing with characters you actually cared about; who liked each other, tried to better their situations, and who actually evolved over time. It was exciting to see how Jack Donaghy grew out of the capitalist poster boy he’d originally established himself as; and to watch Michael Scott evolve from a David Brent knockoff into a man whose exit from the series was heartbreaking. These shows helped abolish the idea of cynicism as a comedic holy grail, and thankfully so. After all: we all work hard to grow, change and try to become better humans. Why wouldn’t we want to watch characters we care about do the same thing?
That question has been answered over the last few TV seasons. With the arrival of Leslie Knope on Parks and Recreation and Jessica Day on New Girl, we’ve been given lead characters to root for, celebrate and even aspire to. Then we got more: in 2011, Bob’s Burgers showed the Belchers navigating the waters of raising kids while keeping their restaurant open. Last year, Brooklyn Nine-Nine (subtly) began preaching tolerance, equality and teamwork, all while delivering tight writing and smart plot developments. And don’t forget The Mindy Project. As creator Mindy Kaling said on Instagram last week: “More than a hundred of us come to work every day because we love laughing and we love to tell a story about one flawed girl who just wants to find love and be a better person. It’s the best.”
That enthusiasm matters because positivity is infectious. Shows like Girls have rightfully earned a place at the cultural table (and creator Lena Dunham clearly takes great joy in her work), but there’s a reason it’s harder to watch – and laugh at – than the comedies taking centre stage. Until this season (where her situation seems to be slowly improving), Hannah Horvath just kept making the same mistakes and hurting the people around her, with no indication that this would ever change.
Did it make Girls a bad show? Absolutely not. But it made it the Brooklyn equivalent of Breaking Bad: now we watch every week, worried about what everyone’s going to do and whether they’ll survive. And frankly, it’s hard to chuckle when catastrophe feels so immediate. Which is why the Emmys and Golden Globes need a dark comedy and/or dramedy category.
So that’s where Kimmy Schmidt comes in. Already binge-watched by most and well-reviewed by nearly everyone, the success of this series is a testament to the merits of a comedy with characters who are trying their best. Kimmy is weird, damaged, and flawed, but she’s trying. Like Mindy Lahiri, Jessica Day, Leslie Knope (we miss you), or the cast of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, she’s just trying to be a better person.
That doesn’t make these characters less funny, their jokes less great, or their comedy less important – quite the contrary. Personally, I want to follow a character who cares about life and the people in it, coupled with writing so good I want to consume it all in a 24-hour period. And judging by the show’s success, I’m not the only one.
