Influence in the Decade: Michael Schur and the Art of Gentle Comedy
Michael Schur’s comedic voice will last forever. But for now, its legacy is in how it was the savior for so much from the last decade.
Schur has, of course, been active in the professional comedy realm for much longer than just the past ten years. He graduated from Harvard University in 1997 after serving as the president of the Harvard Lampoon, which, as evidenced by his wit, makes perfect sense. Quickly hired at Saturday Night Live, Schur was a part of the biggest American comedy institution from 1998 to 2004, when he worked as a writer with such legends as Will Ferrell, Tina Fey, Jimmy Fallon, and Seth Meyers. It was Meyers who became the best man at his wedding, as the two bonded over baseball, video games, and the cursed Boston Red Sox.
The only SNL sketch attributed to Schur on the official NBC website is a monologue for Dwayne Johnson in 2000. While the sketch show always keeps writing credits under wraps (though, writers like Julio Torres have begun to break this mold through social media lately), it’s safe to say that Schur had a hand in a number of great sketches and jokes because he is undeniably one of the funniest people to ever exist.
If you’re familiar with his work, then there’s no denying that he was much better-suited to situational comedy shows than he was to sketch shows. He was obviously valued at SNL, but his full potential was nowhere near being reached. It wouldn’t be reached at his next job either.
In 2005, Schur joined the fledgling production of the American version of The Office as a producer, writer, and a recurring actor (he played Dwight’s cousin, Mose Schrute). There were few signs that this would be successful and, without Schur, it probably wouldn’t have been. But he was just as valuable a member of that early writing staff as Mindy Kaling, B.J. Novak, Greg Daniels, Paul Lieberstein, and more were. (It’s a Hall of Fame writing staff.)
On The Office, Schur honed his craft. He appeared on the show many times all the way up until “Finale,” but his behind-the-scenes contributions came to an end, in full, after season four when he began working on a proposed spin-off of the show.
The episodes that Schur had a major hand in writing are season one’s “The Alliance,” season two’s “Office Olympics,” “Christmas Party,” and “Valentine’s Day,” season three’s “Branch Closing,” “Traveling Salesmen,” “The Return,” “The Negotiation,” and “The Job,” and season four’s “Dunder Mifflin Infinity.”
Of course, these episodes are filled with hilarious lines (“‘A real man makes his own luck,’ Billy Zane, Titanic,” “I always knew that the branch would shut down someday. I just figured it’d be because Michael sold the building for some magic beans.”), but the recurring pattern in all of these episodes is that they have immense heart to them with some really lovely moments. This isn’t to say that Kaling, Novak, or others were devoid of heart in their writing, but I believe much of that balance can be attributed to Schur. (It’s widely been said that Kaling loved writing for Michael Scott the most and Schur was deft at writing for Jim and Pam.) After all, if the heart of the show was Jim and Pam’s relationship, then we can see important moments in all of these episodes for that relationship.
Among other little moments of affection, Schur wrote Roy’s confrontation of Jim when he flirted with Pam, the introduction (and subsequent return) of the yogurt lid medal, the teapot, and the eventual moment when Jim asks Pam out on a date, which is the best moment in the history of The Office.
The heart that imbued the Schur-penned episodes of The Office certainly carried over to his work on the shows directly helmed by him. He was a producer on many great comedies, but his direct brainchildren, Parks and Recreation and The Good Place are just brimming with the heart that was allowed to be properly cultivated on select episodes of The Office. Without it and without Schur, The Office would never have reached the heights that it did.
But Schur’s heights were certainly not in Scranton, Pennsylvania. I hate to say they were even in the afterlife or in Pawnee, Indiana just because of how much higher he likely has left to fly. His potential is limitless, but for now, The Good Place is his most recent entry into his canon, with the final season debuting last Thursday on NBC. (Thursdays at 9:00! Plug!)
Yet, they were the places where his true comedic vision was allowed to shine as strongly as possible. As with any show, they were confluences of myriad talent, writers, actors, directors, and more, alike, but at the top of them both was Schur and his style gloriously pervaded every corner of the worlds he built with his teams. The influence became so great that patterns could be seen between them all as the fan-coined “Schur-niverse” blossomed into full effect.
The characters on Parks and Recreation, The Good Place, and, yes, we’ll throw in Brooklyn Nine-Nine (which he co-created with Dan Goor, but does not oversee), too, for comparisons’ sake, all share similar archetypes.
You have the lovable buffoon in the form of Chris Pratt’s Andy Dwyer (Parks), Joe Lo Truglio’s Charles Boyle (Brooklyn), and Manny Jacinto’s Jason Mendoza (Place).
You have the hardened, cynical woman with the capacity for affection in her heart in the form of Aubrey Plaza’s April Ludgate (Parks), Stephanie Beatriz’s Rosa Diaz (Brooklyn), and Kristen Bell’s Eleanor Shellstrop (Place).
You have the leader of the group who is always doing their best, but often failing, in the form of Amy Poehler’s Leslie Knope (Parks), Andy Samberg’s Jake Peralta (Brooklyn), and Ted Danson’s Michael (Place).
And so on and so forth, you get the picture. What I’m trying to say is, Schur has a distinctive style and yet, it always feels fresh. Rosa and April, for example, went to completely different emotional depths. Eleanor has had a 180 degree character arc altogether. The archetypes are there, but there is no limit to the depths Schur will plume to get the most out of his characters. That’s how he keeps his stories feeling so original, clever, and funny.
I think, ultimately, that will be Schur’s legacy as he makes a name for himself as one of the all-time great television showrunners. Tina Fey put it best during a random interview she gave on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon when she remarked that she was “envious” of the “gentle comedic sensibility of Mike Schur.” Some would argue that television comedy is best when it is biting and brutal and pushing boundaries, like Seinfeld once did and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia continues to do. (I love both of those shows.) I would argue that television comedy is at its best when it blends humor and heart in a fun way that never comes across as mean-spirited. Schur would likely argue that there’s room for both. And, of course, he would be right.
But there is still so much that needs to be said for what Parks and Place brought to the table. They tackled cynical themes, but they never got cynical and I appreciated that so much. They never left me with a feeling of despair or anxiety watching them. He put such goodness and hope (relentless hope) into the world with these shows during a time when most television was content to go the other way. Parks and Recreation and The Good Place both believe in the triumph of the human spirit. And they believe in making their audiences happy. That’s why people binge them. That’s why people revisit them so much. That’s why they’re always going to live on.
Of course, these two NBC comedies are not the only things Schur has done since stepping away from The Office writers room. He’s been one of the most valuable producers in the industry, keeping his name and insights imbued into Brooklyn Nine-Nine throughout its six-season, multi-network run that should continue in the winter. He also produced one of my favorite shows of the past decade, Netflix’s Aziz Ansari-vehicle, Master of None. He wrote the Bryce Dallas Howard episode of Black Mirror, “Nosedive,” with Rashida Jones. He also served as an executive producer for Abby’s, which was canceled in May, and currently serves as one for Sunnyside.
Basically, he has been an essential voice in television for going on twenty-one years now. Will it continue into the next decade? That remains to be seen. But for now, the best we know of Schur is that he is taking on an essential philosophy of The Good Place, by embracing “what we owe to each other.”
After announcing that his show would end, Schur told Lesley Goldberg of The Hollywood Reporter,
“What interests me the most is there’s a bunch of people that I’ve worked with at various shows who are now chomping at the bit to have their own shows and to be captains of their own ships. It’s very exciting to me to think about trying to help them. Either by co-creating or exec producing or advising, because there are a lot of voices that are worth hearing and being on TV. So, my focus is helping other people right now…I feel like there’s been enough of my particular voice for the time being. I’m eager to help other people put theirs on TV.”
This, too, will be Schur’s legacy. With NBC seeming to be the only network that is kind of succeeding right now and the Peacock streaming service in the wings, Schur could have any amount of money to make his voice heard. Instead, he’s using his platform to help show that the next Michael Schur is going to be someone very exciting. And there may be many of them. He’s in the market for the next best showrunner. That sounds like a deed worthy of some Good Place points.
This is just the latest example of Schur as a savior in the world of television. Even though he definitely doesn’t see himself as such. Schur is always one to play down his talent and accomplishments. In Mike Sacks’ 2014 book of interviews, Poking a Dead Frog: Conversations with Today’s Top Comedy Writers, Schur said,
“If you ever feel like you’ve solved anything in writing, you’re just setting yourself up for a huge fall — and you’re wrong. Because it’s not math or science; it’s a weird, nebulous, hard-to-define thing. One person’s favorite show in history is another person’s least favorite show in history.”
Creatively, this is an evergreen statement. From the business side of things, NBC’s top brass might be inclined to disagree after inking him to a nine-figure deal to retain his talents and avoid being poached by Netflix or some other mega-conglomerate. After all, Schur showed his ability to save network television from itself.
The Emmys aired last weekend and with dwindling trophies given to FOX, ABC, and CBS, it basically turned into an advertisement for the competition that network television loathes so much. But NBC was the only network to break through. Obviously, this is thanks to Saturday Night Live, but it’s also because of The Good Place, the only network comedy to receive an outstanding series nomination. While its end is imminent, that still helped to keep NBC afloat as streaming and premium cable began to dominate the cultural landscape.
I was initially skeptical of watching The Good Place because I found my interest in the fall slates from the networks waning profusely. I should have trusted in Schur and Bell and Danson, though. It’s become one of my all-time favorite stories. It was just hard to shake that prejudice against what networks are providing to audiences today.
Schur didn’t save network television, but he gave NBC a blueprint for the way forward in comedy when they finally admitted they didn’t know how to churn out hits anymore. Schur’s model shows that trust must be afforded to creators and that out-there concepts with diverse casts need to be embraced. Otherwise, you’re just spinning your feathers.
And yes, Netflix is what helped propel The Good Place into the stratosphere of television-based cultural conversation, as it did with Parks, Office, and so many more. But for at least the next five years, Schur is sticking with the peacock. No one has had a hand in as many of the top binge-worthy shows in the world as Schur has. In this volatile landscape of television, this commodity is priceless because 529 episodes across multiple binge-worthy shows takes time (fifteen years, in fact) to cultivate. It’s something Netflix doesn’t have the time for and they couldn’t afford a misfire, either. With Schur’s impeccable track record, he probably could have had any amount of money he wanted.
But he didn’t just help save network comedy from irrelevance. Schur also helped save culture and storytelling in the wake of the Donald Trump election. Yes, The Good Place debuted before Trump was elected, but it’s hard to deny how influenced by the ethics of the 2015–16 campaign and the subsequent administration installment in later seasons the show has been. It’s not a direct rebuke, but it is subtle in the way it shows characters striving for a better world. In a time when it seems like many are actively working towards a worse world, it’s refreshing to see people who just want things to be good. Everything isn’t fine, but these people might be able to make it fine.
My reading could be entirely wrong (Schur is always one step ahead of us), but I think there is a lot of good-vibe positivity that the writers, collaborators, and creators behind the show are aiming to put in the world through the story.
When Trump won, I wasn’t sure what post-Trump art would look like. I expected it to be bitter and scathing and powerful and challenging. I expected the wittiest satire and the most thought-provoking art. There’s been a lot of that, sure, but the best response has been to ignore him altogether and just focus on the good vibes in the world. Whether that’s a Jonas Brothers album about happiness, a sequel to Mamma Mia!, or a show about the afterlife, it’s been the most welcome thing for me. I just want things that bring joy to my life. It’s too short of a life to not seek out joy at all times. The Good Place has been a top source of that. And so as Schur. Parks began in 2009. Place ends in 2020. His voice has been so critical to the cultural makeup of the past decade.
This isn’t even to mention the fact that it has catapulted the fame of its co-stars, including William Jackson Harper, Jameela Jamil, Manny Jacinto, and D’Arcy Carden. They have all brought such joy into the world since they became well-known names and Schur’s profile has never been larger. Except for the fact that he’s mostly still known as “Mose Schrute.”
But he’s not the only one who leapt into stardom from The Office.
I often think about a hysterical interview that Vulture’s Denise Martin conducted between Schur and Kaling. In it, Schur mentions that he is obsessed with The Mindy Project, Kaling’s Fox-Hulu rom-com series, to which she remarks,
“That’s adorable to me that you have any time to catch any of them, but it’s cute that you have — here’s what I think is really interesting. You created Brooklyn Nine-Nine and I created The Mindy Project after The Office, and both shows are really different from The Office. My show is so me, and I feel like Brooklyn is a good mix of you and Dan Goor. Don’t you find it interesting?”
It’s a sweet, thoughtful sentiment. But of course, Schur undercuts it by saying, “I don’t know, you haven’t said anything yet. So I don’t know if I find it interesting. You literally haven’t said anything.”
His playful banter, quick wit, and “dizzying Connecticut intellect,” as Kaling put it, are all part of what makes him so charming, so delightful to follow along with. Nick Offerman, Parks’ Ron Swanson, once said that Schur could persuade of him anything. And he’s right. It often seems like Schur has a definite opinion on everything in the universe. The fact that he’s funny, just makes these opinions worth hearing, even if they are inherently meaningless.
It’s the meaninglessness that has drawn me so strongly to Schur in every way possible. It’s what has made me seek out everything he’s ever written (whether this is The Good Place or his old baseball blog, “Fire Joe Morgan”), every interview he’s ever given, every podcast he’s ever appeared on. I can’t get enough of spending time in Schur’s mind. I love the laughs that come out of the things that are so meaningless and that he is so adamantly opinionated about because by discussing stolen credit cards or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on “The Poscast” (the podcast he co-hosts with sports writer Joe Posnanski), I feel like I learn so much about him. I feel like I’m talking with a friend. And there’s nothing better than talking with a friend.
If you’ve never listened to “The Poscast,” it is by far the most niche thing he’s ever been so thoroughly involved in. You can listen to episodes here. My fandom of it has led me to a few interactions with Schur himself (one of the only reasons why social media is good), as well as Posnanski and other “Poscast” guests, like Mike DiCenzo (former head writer of Fallon) and Alan Sepinwall (Rolling Stone’s head television critic).
If I had to recommend some episodes, I’d suggest either of the two mega-Christmas drafts they conducted because they are completely and utterly hilarious. Schur obviously shines, but he makes everyone around him better, too. It’s clear he’s been doing that his whole life, both casually and professionally.
One of the funniest examples of Schur’s connection to “The Poscast” is arguably its most mainstream exposure, as well, aside from maybe NPR’s Linda Holmes recommending the show on “Pop Culture Happy Hour.” When Schur and the cast of The Good Place took to Comic-Con this year, they opened up the panel to a Q&A period. One person brought up The Poscast.
You can see it in Schur’s eyes how he thinks for half a second about whether or not he should try to explain what The Poscast is and what this fan is talking about before promptly deciding that there is, in fact, no possible way. But he is entirely good-natured about it and decides to give time back to his collaborators, instead of rambling about baseball and television and podcasts, even though everyone would be more than happy to hear him do so.
For now, we enjoy the subtle nods to his small podcast audience on The Good Place and we eagerly await to see if there will be any more of them as the final season rolls into town.
It’s been months, but The Good Place is, at long last, kicking off the final season. I know it’s devastating to see it go, but I am glad that the show is going to have a planned conclusion. The story is too important to peter out. Bell agrees, too, as she told Sepinwall,
“When he told us how it was going to wrap up, he’s right. That’s where it should end. And the most ethical thing for the story — which should be our main concern, not loving working with each other, not the paycheck we get, not staying on the air, not our resumes — should be, What does this story need to say? The best stories, I think, are the ones where they pay attention to where the story ends. Because otherwise we’re destined to become fatigued.”
She also praised Schur further in that interview, saying,
“Mike is an incredible orator. I don’t know anyone else that can hold the amount of details in their head that he can once he decides what a story is. So he pitched me something very close to this, told me about it for 45 minutes, then we talked in-depth about a couple questions I had. And when he told me the story — this is before the pilot had been written — he said, ‘And then in Episode Six, your character would say something like,’ and then he would say it. And then he would say, ‘Chidi’s character would answer,’ and he would answer with the joke. He had sections of his dialogue written already, and he hadn’t even written the pilot. He’s crazy like that.”
It’s hard to say it any better than that. He’s an excellent storyteller. He’s smart and funny and kind. And I feel expertly primed to use those adjectives when I eventually propose marriage to him.
Ultimately, the highest compliment I can give to a television showrunner is that I trust them. With Stranger Things, I often find myself questioning many decisions and trying to predict what comes next. With Game of Thrones, I would often spend many weeks speculating about where the story was going. With Arrested Development, I laughed at the fourth and fifth seasons, but I questioned if they were necessary beyond spending more time with the characters. But with The Good Place, I have complete trust in Schur. I never speculate. I never predict. I’m just along for the ride. I know and trust completely that we’re in good hands. I’m ready to go wherever Schur feels is right.
After all his time spent studying ethics, I think we should all trust that Schur knows what is right.
