In the first episode of Peacock’s new sitcom, “The Paper,” Ned Sampson, played by Domhnall Gleeson, declares, “I love a challenge. That’s why I’m so good at Lent.” And indeed, the show itself did have a few challenges to tackle.
“The Paper” has been touted as the long-awaited spinoff of the 2005 sitcom “The Office,” spurring a variety of reactions from cautious optimism to dread from devotees of the original show. I admit I too was skeptical. As both an avid sitcom watcher and fan of “The Office,” I also feared this new effort from co-creator Greg Daniels would rework the same ground as the series (which itself was an adaptation of Ricky Gervais’s British television show of the same name).
“The Office,” starring Steve Carrell, brilliantly showcased the banality of office life and yet also showed that there was something poignant in that type of work. Despite the office’s often depressing atmosphere and their tedious labors, the show’s characters found relationships and passions provoked by their work at Dunder Mifflin Paper Company. “The Office” also used its quirky characters and situations to bring humor and hilarity to these normal workaday situations. In “The Paper,” I wanted to see something fresh to take the mockumentary style of sitcom both literally and figuratively out of the office.
I’m happy to report (pun intended) that the new series does, for the most part, break from the conventions of “The Office.” While “The Office” feels like its storylines could take place at any point in the last few decades, “The Paper” firmly plants itself in the American landscape of the 2020s. The new show reminds viewers of both the power of the press and of comedy in the face of indisputably dark times. The show also debuted just in time to mirror real-life events in the world of American TV comedy.
“The Paper” opens in Scranton, Pa., outside the business park where “The Office” took place. Almost immediately it is revealed that the Dunder Mifflin Paper Company, the subject of “The Office,” has been closed after being acquired by Enervate, a paper-product distribution company. The show jumps to The Toledo Truth Teller. At one time a successful newspaper, now a small part of Enervate, the Truth Teller has been relegated to copying stories from wire services and “reporting” on celebrity gossip.
The status quo is shaken up with the introduction of Ned Sampson as the new editor in chief. Ned comes to The Truth Teller ambitious to turn things around and return journalistic integrity to the paper. On the surface, Ned Sampson feels similar to Amy Poehler’s Leslie Knope from “Parks and Recreation”—driven, career-oriented and caring. However, he has a blind optimism and awkwardness that make him less serious but more relatable than Knope.
Ned is profoundly earnest throughout the season and, despite the various hits he takes, continues to pick himself and his staff back up for the sake of doing “good journalism.” Although he is undoubtedly naive in his hopes for the future of The Truth Teller, he proves himself to be a good boss: He is interested in getting to the bottom of things and putting out the truth through the paper.
Ned’s earnestness, his sincere belief in the pursuit of the truth, is one of the main things that differentiates “The Paper” from its bleaker predecessor. All the characters in the show pursue the aim of restoring integrity to a small-town paper. Still, the humor in “The Paper” does parallel that of “The Office.” Using the mockumentary format to its benefit, the show plays on catching the expressions of the characters and capturing awkward moments from obscure vantage points. It is another entry in the comedy sphere of cringe-based humor.
Oscar Nuñez’s Oscar Martinez is the only character returning from “The Office.” In these early episodes his primary function seems to be to remind the audience: “Hey! We’re a spinoff of ‘The Office.”’ This is ultimately to the detriment of “The Paper” and cheapens the show’s early episodes.
The season is somewhat of a slow burn. The first few episodes have moments that drag and the show would have benefited from cutting entire scenes to improve the pacing. However, the episodes’ pace and quality pick up as the season progresses. Although Ned’s characterization and story arc is strong throughout, the side characters suffer in the early episodes and feel like paper-thin cutouts rather than real characters. Yet as the season continues, many of the characters, including Oscar, begin to shine on their own.
The strongest example of this is Chelsea Frei’s Mare Pritti, who became my favorite character by the end of the show. Mare is The Truth Teller’s compositor, in charge of assembling the layout of the paper. When Ned recruits the staff to be volunteer reporters, Mare steps up and ends up as The Truth Teller’s star reporter by the end of the season. As a new journalist at America, I related most to Mare throughout the season as she struggles to break into the world of reporting and producing what Ned describes as “good,” truthful news.
Mare and Ned serve as the heart of both The Truth Teller staff and the show. As the paper develops, so does their relationship with each other. Yet the characters have more than just the familiar Ross and Rachel will-they-won’t-they relationship. They have to contend not only with their romantic feelings for one another but also with their commitment to re-establishing The Truth Teller as a publication with integrity and fairness at its core.
The show tackles the world of journalism with sophistication while still managing to be funny (most of the time). While it could easily treat the amateur writing by the staff of The Truth Teller as a joke, I was surprised to see the show presenting the small town journalism of The Truth Teller earnestly. The stories from around Toledo that Ned, Mare, Oscar and the rest of the staff report on do have moments of absurdity and humor. However, they are all played with real stakes and have lasting effects on The Truth Teller.
The crux of the season deals with The Truth Teller breaking a story that paints their parent company, Enervate, in a negative light. The story exposes a toilet paper product being sold by Enervate as the cause of various water issues in Toledo. Despite being told multiple times by their superiors to stop the story, Ned resigns for the sake of getting the story out. It is a tense moment leading into the final few episodes of the season, showcasing the courage needed to stay truthful and unbiased in reporting.
In a real-life world that seems increasingly absurd and unfair, the show’s earnestness is refreshing. Just a few months before “The Paper’s” debut, “The Late Show With Stephen Colbert” was cancelled by CBS, effective in May of next year. The network called this decision “purely financial,” though many, including the Writers Guild of America, theorized the cancellation came in response to the comedian’s criticism of Donald Trump. Then, just days after “The Paper” was released, “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” was temporarily suspended. ABC, which airs the show, pulled it from the schedule after affiliates threatened the network following Kimmel’s comments about President Trump and the MAGA movement related to the assasination of Charlie Kirk.
The real-life Kimmel drama makes fictional storylines about corporations interfering in the media world, like the one featured in “The Paper,” appear all the more timely and real. Kimmel’s return to late night was a happy story, bringing stronger numbers to his show than ever before. During his first episode back, he didn’t pull punches during the opening monologue and reminded his audience to face attempted silencing with both courage and laughter.
A small town paper and late night comedy television show both have the ability to inspire their viewers by showing courage in the face of censorship. For this viewer, comedy is necessary to get through the increasing number of desolate situations we witness in the United States. It makes both a late night show like “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” and a sitcom like “The Paper” more important than ever.
As someone who just started working at a media organization a few short months ago, I found “The Paper” surprisingly inspiring. I continue to be alarmed by the Trump administration’s intrusions into the press and entertainment world. My friends who work in both entertainment and journalism are sounding the alarm over recent government interference. In “The Paper,” the stories broken by The Truth Teller may not be the flashiest or get the most clicks. But they can still make a difference. At the very least, the paper is putting out something with truth and integrity.
Shows like “The Paper” bring much needed levity into journalism and exhibit the power a truthful press has to inspire change in their communities, one paper at a time.
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