The new "‘You Miss 100% of the shots you don't take' - Wayne Gretzky - Michael Scott?"
"'The courage in journalism is sticking up for the unpopular, not the popular...'
...Geraldo Rivera."
My biggest fears heading into this 10-episode binge were two-fold: (1) that Greg Daniels’ expansion of “The Office” universe would rely too much upon callbacks; and (2) in doing so, it would fail to encapsulate “the grind” my colleagues and I especially know all too well.
After some obligatory references, misdirectional exposition and—hey, Oscar’s back!—overall delayed new world ingratiation at the top of episode one, these qualms were instantly assuaged upon the arrival of movie star-made-workforce comedy frontman, Domhnall Gleeson (“Ex Machina,” “Frank”).
Naturally appointed the new Editor-in-Chief of The Toledo Truth Teller as a reward for pushing toilet paper en incomparable masse for the parent company, Gleeson’s Ned Samspon is compelled to cut actual journalism in a tame bullpen of lost souls.
The clickbait operation he’s inherited is near-exclusively comprised of misfits with virtually no writing experience (Melvin Gregg, Gbemisola Ikumelo, Nicole Lee). Hijinx ensue when this band of boneheads—caught in the clash between Ned’s expose-hunger and the explosive Esmerelda’s (Sabrina Impacciatore's) fluff-defensive front—learn that, in newspaper reporting, it often pays to be (tactically) clueless.
Seeing the looks upon babes-catapulted-into-the woods reporters’ faces as they break real needle-moving news, I’m reminded of all the times in this classic and necessary profession that occupational horizon-broadening shatters comfort zone complacency with cathartic indiscrimination.
Translated: positive reinforcement leadership begets positively-charged production, every damn time. Let the outlet you’re currently consuming serve as all the proof you need: if the team ain't happy, then there goes the team.
Not to mention, as a series, “The Paper” is mass-appeal funny with just enough “inside baseball” to fill us journos with glee and sans regret that we were not tabbed to consult. It flaunts an immediate stakes and punchline flow even its cultural juggernaut predecessor did not wield out the gate.
Ned is a (eh, mostly) unproblematic boss that nevertheless wields a neurotic hammer woven in earned empathy and relatability, compared to one surrendered to all things second-hand embarrassment, tension-laden awkwardness and serially cartoonish inappropriateness.
No disrespect to the iconic Michael Scott, but he couldn’t make overnight reporters out of the company he keeps; the competency upgrade sacrifices a modicum of chaos-infused jest while upholding a paramount virtue: there are all different paths to the same straight line.
Also worth mentioning: supporting actor and writer on the series, Alex Edelman, is a bona fide shooting star spellbound in skyfire as Adam. Moreover, his “Just for Us” HBO special last year was pure dynamite.
I hope we get to see more of his shenanigans spotlit in the already-announced season 2. There’s not just an actually developed Topanga to Sampson’s Cory (Chelsea Frea), but a 2-for-1 Shawn/Eric hybrid glaringly ready to play with whatever squirrels or storyballs the writers' room choose to throw in his course—I mean court.