Balancing acts

The Parkers, with MoNique Jackson, left, and Countess Vaughn, has undergone scrutiny from network executives about how race issues will be addressed. [Photo: John Hayes]

When the new TV show The Parkers makes its debut tonight, it will represent hours of argument and compromise typical of TV shows with African-American themes.

By ERIC DEGGANS/Times Television Critic

© St. Petersburg Times, published August 30, 1999

HOLLYWOOD, Calif. -- Tom Nunan isn't looking happy. And that's not good.

That's because Nunan, as president of entertainment at UPN, is the most important opinion in this space -- a cavernous soundstage divided into sets looking like a suburban living room, kitchen and college library for the network's newest black-centered sitcom, The Parkers.

The cast is midway into a dress rehearsal. Producers and executives note what's working and what's not before the first taping -- just two business days away.

Right now, it seems Nunan isn't liking an exchange between star Mo'Nique Jackson and her shapely neighbor, played by Mari Morrow. It's the first time he hasn't cracked a smile during a scene.

He scribbles something in a script and moves on; by the time taping rolls around, the scene will be simplified to cover Jackson's continuing difficulty with complex, lengthy bursts of dialogue.

This, Parkers creator Ralph Farquhar assures, is the process in Hollywood, where producers, studio executives and network suits fret over every scene in an important show until everyone's needs are satisfied. (The result, The Parkers' debut episode, airs at 8:30 tonight on WTOG-Ch. 44.)

"The network is concerned about advertisers, while the studio is worried about how everything will play in syndication, which is when they get their money," Farquhar says, relaxing in his office, a stone's throw from The Parkers' set. "The challenge is always to maintain a valid creative point of view. It's an interesting tightrope to walk."

It's a process one network executive says "sucks the life" out of the funniest performers.

But Farquhar and other producers of black-themed shows have yet another tightrope to negotiate: race.

Because, when you dare to make a TV show about people of color in the '90s, you face issues that the guys who assemble stuff like Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place rarely approach.

How "ethnic" are your characters going to be? Will you use white characters in the core cast? If so, will race be an issue? And if not, how will you avoid it?

And the $64,000 question: Will viewers -- and more importantly, advertisers -- accept your multi-cultural vision or write you off as just another "black" TV show?

"One reason I think that (black-centered) shows haven't worked in the past is because they've been too specific to the black experience every minute of every hour," says former L.A. Law star Blair Underwood, now featured in the predominantly black drama, City of Angels, scheduled for CBS in midseason. "I love these shows. But I think it helps to marginalize ourselves, if we're looking to a broader audience."

"I've always called it the Cosby Show vs. In Living Color argument," adds Robert Thompson, director of Syracuse University's Center for the Study of Popular Television. "Do you offer a show, like Cosby, with a wonderfully middle-of-the-road message, or something more culturally specific that people might still find objectionable?"

Farquhar has faced these questions time and time again -- first as co-creator of the ill-fated Fox-TV drama South Central, then as executive producer of The Sinbad Show, also on Fox.

Still smarting from viewer rejection of South Central, a comedic drama about a working-class black family in downscale Los Angeles, Farquhar and Co. knew they had to create a different framework for their next all-black venture.

So Moesha was dreamed up, with his partners Vida Spears and Sara V. Finney, as a middle-class, Cosby-style family struggling with "relatable" -- or, mainstream -- concerns.

"Look at Brandy -- boom! -- she's got braids," Farquhar says. "No one has understood that . . . once we cast her, regardless of what these characters do, (viewers) would have to buy into a whole different standard of beauty. These are clearly black women . . . which forces us to be seen as a "black' TV show."

Though Moesha features lots of jokes pegging off black culture, the story themes tend to be broad: teens' struggle for independence, confusion over romance, problems in dealing with a step-parent.

"Skin color doesn't make you laugh any differently," adds Farquhar in his office, decorated with books on African American art, a poster for the movie Krush Groove (which he wrote), and a small statue of a tribal warrior holding a sign that reads: "Life Is More Important Than Show Business."

"Doing stories that anyone can access . . . that's what we strive to do," adds the producer, who started his career as a writer on Happy Days and cemented his reputation as a producer on Married . . . With Children. "Just because you get specific about who these people are, the notion that you can't attract white viewers . . . is ridiculous."

Conceived as a spin-off from UPN's most successful sitcom, Moesha, The Parkers continues Farquhar's vision -- presenting the story of Moesha's boy-crazy pal Kim Parker (Countess Vaughn) and her single mom Nikki (Mo'Nique Jackson), who graduated from high school together and will attend Santa Monica Junior College.

In many ways, it's a gamble, placing Mo'Nique -- an up-and-coming comic from programs such as Def Comedy Jam and Showtime at the Apollo -- in her first sitcom role.

Written by the show's only white writer, the episode Nunan reviewed -- revolving around the women's decision to work as phone sex operators to make extra cash -- still manages some pretty inside references for black fans, including a Curtis Mayfield joke and a visual gag based on black fraternities' "step show" presentations.

Still, Farquhar admits, UPN executives remain nervous about how race is portrayed onscreen -- even in black-centered shows.

"It's the first time I've noticed that people are honestly feeling the pressure," the producer says. "They are concerned that their shows won't be the ones to become the lightning rod. They want to make sure we're not going into any areas that are going to offend people."

Farquhar is talking about the NAACP's aggressive protests this year over the lack of minority lead actors in the networks' fall slate of shows.

Lately, NAACP President Kweisi Mfume has talked about organizing a boycott this fall -- a point not lost on executives at UPN, which lost black viewers in droves after its Civil War-era comedy starring a black butler, The Secret Diary of Desmond Pfeiffer, tanked last year.

"You know, everybody buys the same things in this country," says UPN CEO Dean Valentine, explaining the network's decision to ensure every new show features at least one actor of color in its core cast. "It's a silly and shortsighted business decision to alienate an entire segment of the population."

Even black producers struggle over how to portray their characters. Farquhar's Moesha and The Parkers have already faced some barbs from critics for broad, eye-rolling roles. And Bill Boulware, a black producer now working on The Parkers, also produced Pfeiffer last year.

"I don't think we all have the same agendas . . . about the images we put out," notes Yvette Lee Bowser, creator of Fox's Living Single, who is now developing shows for NBC and the WB network.

"Not all the "stereotypical' or negative images you see of African Americans or other people of color come from people who don't belong to those groups," Bowser added. "Oftentimes, there are black producers behind those images and that's their particular worldview."

But Syracuse University's Thompson warns against expecting too much from a handful of shows featuring characters of color.

"Nobody complained about all the stupid, failing white people on The Honeymooners, because there were all these other images of white people (on TV)," he says. "When you have so few (black-centered) shows on the air, you ask them to carry such an enormous burden of social identification, that no show can match it."

Comic D.L. Hughley faced such criticism last year, during press conferences for his new sitcom The Hughleys. Journalists questioned some lines in the show -- about a black family's relocation to an all-white suburb -- including a joke where a friend implies Hughley's character wasn't really black because he doesn't drink out of old jelly jars anymore.

But Hughley's show also explored important issues facing people of color, including a landmark episode, "Jungle Gym Fever," about his character's negative reaction to his daughter's affection for a white boy.

Next year's shows will cover the difference between how black and white parents discipline their children, black children facing accusations of "acting white" because of success at school and tension between Koreans and black people in a neighborhood, he says.

The mix seems to work for several reasons: the show's core cast is diverse (including two white actors); it's set in a white suburb; and it aired in a popular time slot, behind ABC's powerhouse sitcom Home Improvement on Tuesdays.

Last year, Moesha -- UPN's top-rated comedy -- was ranked 120th with white viewers and 8th among black people; The Hughleys was 37th among white people and 14th among black viewers, emerging as one of last season's most successful new shows.

"When people get out of the idea that there is only one way to be black or have an opinion about being black, then a lot of this will move on," Hughley says.

"One of the biggest conflicts we had (with the network), was a line in the pilot where I told my son, "If you don't turn off that (Hanson song), I'm gonna MMMBOP yo' ass,' " he adds. "They said, "People don't speak like that.' I said, "My momma does.' You have to speak from a voice that, right or wrong, you own."

So how has ABC repaid Hughley's success? By moving to his show to Fridays this fall, where he'll compete with two other black stars, Steve Harvey and Bill Cosby, on a night where fewer people overall watch television.

"I was angry and told them I was angry," he says of ABC's decision to move his show. "The bottom line is, this ain't a game I control the rules of. If they put black shows . . . deliberately in situations where they can't be successful, they can still say, "We tried.' "

Indeed, that may be the final point in all this wrangling over race.

Despite its liberal veneer, Hollywood remains a place where actors, writers, producers and technical people of color are often marginalized -- struggling to find a niche in a system that could care less about them or their culture.

"You're dismissed out of hand. . . . It's not like you pitch an idea and they don't like it . . . you don't even get in the room," Farquhar says. "I've heard what they say about other folk (mimics booming executive voice) "We don't want Latino shows this year.' I know that's what they say about me when I leave."