The Very Best Episodes of Classic Sitcoms

Everyone has a favorite sitcom. Or two. Or three. And most everyone has a favorite episode of their favorite sitcoms. Every once in a while an episode comes along that it is just so perfectly constructed and packed with laughs that it rises to the level of unqualified beloved classic. In those cases it is easy to choose a favorite. On the other hand, some comedies produce so many high quality episodes that if you ask five people to name the very best, you'll get five different response. Herewith, I offer up my candidates for some of the best episodes of the best sitcoms.

Seinfeld.
Seinfeld produced so many memorable episodes that you could probably ask twenty people and get twenty different responses. For me, however, it all came together in "The Contest," the one where the gang of four engaged in a competition to see who was, indeed, the master of his or her domain. This episode begins with the hilarious retelling by George of being caught by his mother with his pants literally down. From beginning to end, this episode is just one archetypal Seinfeld moment after another. My favorite parts are Elaine's reaction to finding out that George was using a Glamour Magazine when he got caught, both of George's visits to his mother in the hospital, and Kramer's announcement that he's out.

Newhart.
Although the most memorable moment in the history of Bob Newhart's second sitcom was the final scene of the final episode-predicted by my wife, I must add-the show achieved perfection with its Halloween episode in season 6. Although Newhart's Dick Loudon is reluctant to turn his inn over for a costume party-he's afraid the furniture will get nicked-he finally caves in. Dick dresses up as the Tin Man, his wife as Vampira, the handyman George as the Cowardly Lion, heiress maid Stephanie as a princess and her boyfriend and TV show producer Michael is a Canadian Mountie. Not long after the party begins, one of the kooky townspeople arrives with the message that aliens are attacking the earth. Dick tries to calm everyone down by asking Michael to explain that the television station is running the 1950s version of War of the Worlds. Looking to become the Orson Welles of the 1980s, Michael professes ignorance. The episode then becomes a masterpiece of that peculiar type of humor known as the paranoid comedy. The episode, titled Take Me to Your Loudon, is also a showcase for Bob Newhart's talent. As each strange occurrence adds more to the paranoia of the party guests, Newhart's attempt to rein in reality and logic becomes more and more of an exercise in futility. For instance, when Newhart reminds them of the unlikely fact that the aliens have captured 1950s actor Gene Barry, one of the partygoers responds: "Now Dick's got a point about Gene Barry. Obviously, they've come for our celebrities." The scary thing is that it actually sounds quite reasonable.

Cheers
Cheers had an exceptionally long run and managed to keep putting out quality comedy even through major cast changes. For me, however, the show never quite recovered from when Shelley Long left; after that, it kind of fell into a standard sitcom. And really, the decline, however slight, began when Coach died. The funniest single episode of Cheers for me is the one called Teacher's Pet in which Sam and the Coach attend night school together. Sam isn't worried about passing the class because, of course, he's sleeping with the teacher. But when Diane confronts him about it, he agrees to call it off. At that point he realizes he is screwed; that's also the point this episode takes off into the stratosphere of legendary comedy. First, Sam fails to get Diane to help him because she's got a date. Then Coach turns him down because he's disappointed in him for polishing the teacher's apple. When Sam asked Carla what she knows about geography, she replies only that she knows what creek he's up. In desperation, Sam returns to Cliff and Norm, whom he had earlier insulted by saying they don't know squat. Once asked, Norm and Cliff respond by acting like total idiots: Cliff: Um, gee, Sam, I think we're too dumb to help, don't you Norm? Norm: I didn't even understand the question, Cliffy. They then both leave with Cliff helping Norm remember how to move his feet properly when walking: "Left, right, left, right, right, right." But wait, this Cheers gets even better: Coach returns because, in his words, "You're always messing things up and I'm always bailing you out. You mess them up and I bail you out. It's getting a little boring!" Coach, it seems, has a secret trick to getting good grades. He associates facts with music. He teaches Sam about Albania with these lyrics set to the tune of When the Saints Go Marching: "Albania. Albania. You border on the Adriatic. Your land is most-ly moun-tain-ous. And your chief export is chrome." After the test-which Sam did barely pass-Coach comes bursting through the doors of the bar singing, "Taiwan..Taiwan on the sea. The China sea."

Get a Life.
One might well understand why Get a Life would have been canceled after only two years if it had aired on NBC. But why Fox would cancel a such a hip and beloved cult show when the only hit sitcoms they had at the time were The Simpsons and Married With Children is beyond all hope to comprehend. An acquired taste to be sure, Chris Elliott's Get a Life nevertheless remains buried within the heart of all its fans like a chunk of flying shrapnel would in the butt of Dick Cheney if he were brave enough to venture anywhere inside Baghdad without half the troops there as his security guards. The show was much better in its first season than its second, and the highlight was Neptune 2000, in which the grown-up Chris finally receives the home submarine kit he ordered as a kid. Neptune 2000 showcases the surreal quality that makes Get a Life the very definition of a cult comedy. It is also a showcase for the chemistry between Chris Elliott and his legendary father Bob, who plays his dad on the show. The best moment is when Chris does his impersonation of Captain Quint from Jaws: "You go in the cage. Cage goes in the water. Shark in the water." You just want to slap him.

Alf.
The funny, furry alien from Melmac was red hot in its early seasons, providing crisp, sarcastic humor delivered perfectly by Alf. With a rock solid supporting cast, Alf was a modern day Candide, commenting on the vagaries of modern life. There are many terrific episodes from which to choose as the best of the series, but I keep returning to Some Enchanted Evening, the Halloween episode of season two. First, there's the brilliant notion of having Alf put a fake zipper on so as to appear as if he's wearing a costume so he can attend the Tanners' costume party. (What is it about Halloween costume parties that makes for classic comedy?) Despite the paranoid fears of Willie Tanner, Alf proves to be the life of the party even as he schemes to get Willie the promotion he was denied. My favorite moment is when Alf does his impression of Elvis singing "In the Ghetto." No other sitcom in history approaches the kind of absurdist satire that Alf provided other than The Simpsons. And when you think about it, Alf was really kind of a precursor to Homer Simpson. Their shared oblivious self-centeredness provides the bulk of much of each show's comic sensibility.