Those Moments When Sitcoms Move You to Tears
Any work of fiction that can move a person to tears is of note, but when it comes from a comedy, it tends to hit different, like a gentle hug rather than the gut-punches that can come from more serious dramas. I wanted to share a few of my favourite examples:
(Spoilers for each thing listed, obviously)
The Luck of the Fryrish; Futurama, season 3, 2001.
(Didn’t want to choose “Jurassic Bark”, as it felt ‘too obvious’ and this one personally hits me harder than that one). Having long-since settled into his new life after accidentally being frozen for 1,000 years, Philip J. Fry comes across what appears to be a statue of his older brother, Yancy Fry, except the statue is labelled “Philip J. Fry, the original Martian”. Philip is outraged at this. In his old life, Yancy always wanted everything of Philip’s, including his name, going all the way back to when he was born. Now, not only does it seem Yancy stole his name, but many of his aspirations too, including being the first person to set foot on Mars, but also some of his other dreams, such as headlining a band that made it into the top-ten on multiple occasions. Philip’s friends convince him to go desecrate Yancy’s grave, but upon reaching it, he sees the epitaph. As he reads it, we the audience get a flashback; seven years after Philip’s disappearance, Yancy’s first child is born.
“Son, I’m naming you Philip J. Fry, in honor of my little brother, who I miss every day.” He gives Philip II a lucky clover, a memento of Philip I’s that had been a driving force of the episode. Back in the 31st century, main-character-Philip reads the epitaph aloud, “Here lies Philip J. Fry, named for his uncle, to carry on his spirit” and quietly chooses to forgive his brother.
Coach’s Daughter; Cheers, season 1, 1982.
Bartender, Ernie “Coach” Pantusso’s daughter Lisa arrives at the bar with news: she’s engaged to someone named Roy and she wanted her father to meet Roy before they tie the knot. Coach tries to be polite, but the more time he spends with Roy, the worse Roy gets. He’s rude, demeaning and openly admits (albeit behind Lisa’s back) that he’s only marrying her because she’s his direct superior at work and hopes this could lead to a promotion. Eventually, Coach talks to Lisa in private. What does she see in the guy? It turns out, Lisa is well-aware of how nasty Roy is, but apparently, he’s the only guy who’s ever shown interest in her, and she’d rather have a lousy marriage than none at all. Coach insists that any man would be lucky to have her, but she says she’s ugly. Coach starts to say she’s beautiful, but Lisa stops him on the basis that he’s only saying that because he’s her father. She asks him to really look at her and see if he still thinks she’s beautiful. Coach complies and clasps his hand over his mouth.
“Oh my god. I never realised… you look just like your mother”.
Lisa’s mother isn’t around anymore. We don’t learn the details, but it sounds like she passed when Lisa was still relatively young. Then Lisa remembers… she always thought her mother was beautiful, but she, in turn, had also always been very self-conscious about her appearance. From this, Lisa realises that she can do better than Roy.
Death Takes a Holiday; M*A*S*H, season 9, 1980.
This is a big one, because both the A plot and the B plot of the episode are tearjerkers, and one of them requires some background to appreciate, but I’ll try to keep it as brief as I can.
Charles was a character introduced in season 6 to be the new antagonistic lead after his predecessor, Frank, left. He started out quite similar to Frank, being difficult with the other main characters just to be difficult, but as the series progressed, he evolved into a much more dynamic character. Charles came from quite a wealthy upbringing, and although it absolutely spoiled him, it also kind of haunts him, recognising how much more privileged he was than a lot of other people.
One Christmas Eve, a special box of chocolates is delivered for him from home. He refuses to share them, which the rest of the Unit see as typical Charles. In secret on Christmas morning however, he takes a Jeep to a nearby orphanage and donates the chocolates.
That evening, the 4077 Unit are hosting the orphanage for Christmas dinner. Charles spots Sergeant Rizzo, a known charlatan in the unit, eating some of the special chocolates. Assuming he stole it, Charles confronts Rizzo, who insists he bought it via the black market; Charles knows it can’t be a coincidence with similar chocolates, because these chocolates were hand-made by his sister. Charles now confronts the head of the orphanage, explaining that he has a tradition of always donating chocolate to the needy on Christmas. Meanwhile, the company clerk, Maxwell Klinger happens to be walking past outside and overhears Charles’ conversation. Back in the Mess Tent, the head of the orphanage explains that he appreciated the gesture, but it’s not really what the kids need; money’s tight and by selling the chocolates, he can afford to feed the orphans full meals for a month rather than just give them a dessert for a day. Charles starts to question his entire personal tradition and retires to his space in the Officers’ Tent.
Coming from opposite ends of the social ladder, Klinger and Charles don’t get on. Moreover, throughout most of the series, Klinger had been trying all sorts of antics in the hopes of being declared insane and being sent home, and only recently came to terms with how everyone was conscripted into the Korean war, and no one likes it. This helped him start to see his colleagues as family and he’s since relaxed. But even so, Charles doesn’t respect Klinger, never calling him by name. But when Klinger brings Charles some food from the party, he discreetly cites Charles’ own words about giving on Christmas. Charles’ eyes soften. “Thank you, Max”.
In the other plot of the episode, wounded come in. There’s a guy who has no chance of pulling through, but it’s discovered that the guy has a family, including some young children. Captain Hunnicut takes it upon himself to try to keep the guy stable until after midnight. That way, his family won’t have to associate December 25th with the day their father died. He stays at it all day and all evening, foregoing the Christmas party altogether, with several of his closest colleagues staying by his side for moral support. Alas, the guy passes at 11:25. After all that, Hunnicut failed. Hawkeye reaches up to the clock and pushes it round to 12:05, “Look. He made it.” Father Mulcahy, the company chaplain notes that “Christmas should be thought of as a day of birth”. Everyone agrees to falsify the death certificate. A little white-lie of 40 minutes to ease the soldier’s family just a little bit of their pain.
Something each of these has in common is that they show compassion. They move you because it's people doing their best, not necessarily because of some great tragedy, though of course, the MASH example does also revolve around a tragedy too. And none of these examples abandon their comedic genre either. They all still have moments of levity and still manage to weave stories that can be so affecting. I love the kind of feeling these "comfy-crying" examples make me feel.
