Pilot

S01E01

Early episodes of The Office lacked the cold open, so we start with the piano, and with the plaintive opening chords from television's most hummable theme song (I will not hear otherwise) and most perplexingly incongruous credits. It's genius, really, the thumping build of the theme over the shots of the gurgling water cooler and the Liquid Paper. You know, it might be that somebody associated with this show really knows what's what, and I'm pretty sure it's everybody.

Jim, with only his back visible in this scene, sits in Michael's office as Michael taunts him about needing help with an account, which help it turns out Jim didn't ask for. Steve Carell is puffier and pastier here than he'll be later, and he's meaner, too -- more aggressive and less ingratiating. Frankly, this Old Testament Michael would not be that perplexing to deal with -- if this were your boss, you'd just...leave. Well, punch him in the face and leave. Of course, you wouldn't have to, because he'd be fired, but still. At any rate, this scene contains (1) Michael's first offensive accent (Asian); his first piece of counterfeit "foreign" lingo ("manager a manager"), his first major social faux pas (mistaking a woman for a man), and his first nervous explanation of a major social faux pas ("very low voice...probably a smoker"). They certainly do map a lot of Michael's large and small weaknesses in the first sixty seconds.

Michael stands in front of the Dunder Mifflin sign and exposits that he's been at DM for twelve years and has been regional manager for four. He pulls us through the front door and into reception. His frantic, high-pitched "Pam! Pam Pam!" makes her stare blankly at him, and he makes reference to her cuteness, only to convert the remark into a slam by comparing it unfavorably to her cuteness in days past. Pam gratefully leaps for the conversational parachute of giving Michael his messages, including a fax from corporate. He, imagining himself ten minutes after the documentary is released becoming known as "that hilarious paper guy" and growing his own fandom, tells Pam that the fax belongs in the special file -- in the trash! This is one of Michael's many pained conflicts, of course: his eagerness to cultivate an air of rebellious entrepreneurial bravado, mostly to conceal his pants-wetting terror when he thinks he might get in trouble. Michael is, in essence, a post-Dilbert corporate toady, who knows the clichés of the punishing, dull corporate structure well enough to try to make hilarious jokes about them, never really realizing that you can't credibly mock what you couldn't survive without.

Michael talking-heads that everyone thinks he's a great boss, and then he shows you his "World's Best Boss" mug, which...he bought himself. He bought his at Spencer Gifts (of course), but you can buy one at the NBC store, which I know only because I very recently almost bought one, despite being the boss of absolutely no one except myself. I do find myself, in that limited capacity, the World's Best Boss, though.

Dwight unlocks his desk and retrieves the receiver for his phone while loudly singing "The Little Drummer Boy," with heavy emphasis on "Drummer." Of course, the fact that Dwight's mouth is the drummer in a metal band is the lead joke, and it distracts you at first from the fact that he has just unlocked his desk to retrieve his receiver to plug it into his phone. The act of a man who has been victimized, but there will be time for that. to him, we get our first good look at Jim "Who Put The Mop In The Mop Sh-Mop Sh-Mop" Halpert, doing his usual impersonation of the modern male known as depressicus puppicus. He looks at Dwight, and then he looks at the camera -- not with cute, conspiratorial glee, like he will later, but more like, "You really want to commit this to film? Really? Are you positive?" In a TH, Jim says it's his job to talk to clients about paper. Types of paper. Prices of paper. And as he reaches the end of his deadpan recitation of his responsibilities, he breaks into a grin and laughs, "I'm boring myself just talking about it." And in that moment, as you watch, he becomes your friend, your travel guide, your boyfriend, and possibly the future applicant for a restraining order against you.

Michael and Dwight "WASSUUUUP!" back and forth in an evenly matched battle of the dated and clueless. This is your introduction to the way Michael and Dwight have mastered mixing the suck-uppity syrup of Dwight's adoration of Michael with the bitter grit of how much Michael grinds his heel into Dwight's forehead, needing to show him up at every opportunity. Michael is actually winded at the conclusion of the "WASSUUUUP!"-off, and he retreats into his office, and into solitude. He might as well be entering a black hole, and he knows it. Whatever tiny fun there is, it's all Out Here, and he has to go sit In There. No reindeer games for Michael.

We see (but do not meet) Accounting, and then Jan Levinson-Gould is on her way in the door. Michael THs that he calls Jan "Hillary Rodham Clinton," and, like so many of his references, it has that dusty whiff of having been approximately timely once, but you just know that back then, he was stuck on something else that was even older, like jokes about Bella Abzug. I know a guy like this, who was still making Hillary-adjacent Stand By Your Man jokes at around the time this was filmed, and it was exactly this sad.

Michael and Jan are meeting, and Pam's trapped in the room, taking notes. Michael claims not to have received the agenda Jan says she sent, and when he tries to upbraid Pam for not giving it to him, Pam busts him about sending it to the secret mixed-up files of Mrs. Basil E. Trashcan. Michael glances at Jan and blames this on a joke. His brother's joke! Not even his joke! Faaaamily joke! Jan looks down at the papers in her lap and silently poaches in her distaste for him. Jan is angry at this moment that she doesn't have any friends, because she someone to call after this meeting so she can lead with, "Oh my GOD, Michael Scott is such a DOUCHE." When her teeth finally unclench, Jan breaks the news that either the Scranton branch or the Stamford branch will be absorbed by the other, and both branches should be prepared to argue in favor of self-preservation. She says there will be downsizing, and Michael babbles his way through a weak protest, which could be seen as advocacy for his employees, but is actually rooted in the character trait that will drive much of the first six episodes: his dread of delivering bad news, lest it make people stop adoring him. [Crickets.]

Dwight tries to prank Jim by tapping him on the shoulder. Jim turns; Dwight cackles. It may be based on a British sitcom, but it sure feels like a Sartre play.

Back in the meeting, the phone rings, and Michael sees on the caller ID that it's Todd Packer, so he picks up. God punishes those who choose to take calls from tooly "pals" during meetings with supervisors, so of course, Packer calls Michael a "big queen," refers to Jan as "Godzillary," and inquires about the carpet and its matching of the drapes, at which point Michael finally manages to hang up the phone, saying, "Thaaat's horrifying." Jan ignores it, telling him not to leak the information about the downsizing. She has learned to ignore so much. It's like the thing about the frog in the pot of boiling water, where the frog is Jan and the pot is Michael and the boiling water is having people ask about her pubic hair during meetings.

We cut immediately and unsurprisingly to leak aftermath, with Phyllis leaning over to bug Stanley about what downsizing actually involves. Phyllis and Stanley chat in the lunchroom with Oscar. Angela frets to Kevin. Short version? Everybody knows. Jim and Pam aren't on this topic, though. Instead, got his elbows on the reception desk in his standard stance, and she's trying to keep a straight face while asking whether he'll be attending Angela's cat party. He shuts her down. Michael THs that he would never tell anyone about the possible downsizing. Why upset them? "As a doctor," he says, "you would not tell a patient if they had cancer." One part dried-up weasel, one part childlike wonder. Shake well; pour down drain; harmful if swallowed.

Out in the office, Ryan The Temp has arrived for his first day. Greeting him with unseemly eagerness like he's got the last jug of water in a post-apocalyptic Tucson, Michael goes through an extended "comedy" routine designed to get Ryan to go home and tell his friends that his boss is really, really, REALLY funny. Like all great comedy bits of 1975, it includes the Three Stooges, Hitler, and Arte Johnson. In an interview in which all I can pay attention to is how dark Pam's hair is, she tells us that being downsized out of a job wouldn't be the worst thing ever, since she doubts most little girls dream about being receptionists. She wants more, already, and she mentions her art. (Her sexy, sexy art!) Her comments about doing watercolors and oils plays over that shot of her dabbing a paper with white-out. If she were a real person, that would be really mean.

Over at Jim and Dwight's shop, Jim is on the phone when things start to fall over around his desk, and he realizes that Dwight is running a ruler along the line between their desks, shoving anything of Jim's out of the way. "One word, two syllables: demarcation," Dwight says. The show's patented Curiosity Pause follows. But Jim isn't without options, and soon, we see him wedging a row of pencils into the crevasse between the desks, points up, making the area something of a stabbing factory for errant fingers. Look upon his fortress of pencils! "You can't do that," Dwight tells him, returning with a cup of coffee. Jim wonders why not. "Safety violation. I could fall and pierce an organ," says Dwight. Jim cheerfully looks at Dwight and crosses his fingers, adding somewhat unnecessarily, "We'll see." Dwight grabs his stapler and starts pounding the pencils down through the crack. Jim turns and grins at the camera over his shoulder. "This is why this whole downsizing thing just doesn't bother me," he offers.

For his part, Dwight THs that he loves downsizing. Thinks there should be more of it. Eats his steak still bloody. (Not literally. Though you know he does.)

When we come back, Michael is back to doing the thing where he pretends he doesn't care about the messages Pam has delivered. He sarcastically says to Pam that he'll "run" to take care of one of them, and then he begins the slo-mo Steve Austin run toward his office, complete with sound effects. But Pam doesn't react, so he just keeps doing it and doing it, holding for the laugh, because he has not learned that comedic failure has no time limit. When he won't stop, Pam sourly says, "What?" He goes through the grim task of explaining his joke, telling her that six million dollars sounds like a good salary, but when she "jokes" that they could all stand a salary bump, he gets all severe and disappointed on her, telling her maybe she should go somewhere else. Maybe so.

Michael drags his employees into the conference room for a meeting as he THs that he's a role model, and that the role models he looks up to are Bob Hope, Abraham Lincoln, Bono, and God. It's a great mix of ones that are absurd but patently sincere (Bob Hope and Bono) and ones that make more substantive sense but are obviously being mentioned only because they are the people he feels he should mention (Abraham Lincoln and God). "It's really beyond words" how much they all helped others, he says. And then he says, "It's really incalcacalclble [sic]." Don't point that vocabulary at people if you haven't been properly trained.

In the meeting, Michael starts to give some information about the downsizing, but Dwight says that as assistant regional manager, he should know first. "Assistant to the regional manager," Michael corrects, as they undertake the most ageless conflict since Yankees-Red Sox. They tussle, with Dwight wanting some recognition in this meeting of his special status and Michael not wanting to give it to him and Dwight taking it anyway, by loudly declaring that Michael has his permission to tell the group whatever it is. Michael announces that corporate is giving him an "ultimatum" and is considering downsizing. Out at his desk, and not remotely at the meeting, Ryan is on the phone, most likely with his agency, talking about the possibility that the branch will be dissolved. Even the temp knows! Everyone presses for information about the downsizing, and Michael tries to cue Pam to help him reassure everyone, but Pam isn't on script, and she just flat-out tells everyone it might be Scranton that's downsized. Michael feels betrayed, you can tell, but he tries to rally, insisting that he can protect the "family" from harm. He has literally found the one thing that will reassure no one. Telling them he had no information: neutral. Telling them Jan was protecting them: reassuring. Telling them he was going to take charge of their protection: scary. Oh, and Michael throws the words "my chillun" around, thus offering his first-ever racist remark to Stanley. Memories really do light the corners of my mind, you guys.

In a TH, Jim despairs at what would become of all his useless paper knowledge if he left Dunder-Mifflin. Among the other useless knowledge he would no longer need? Pam's favorite yogurt flavor, "which is mixed berry." She laughs in a TH of her own that he's right about that. Such a lovely detail, with its implication of giggly break times fueled by delicious yogurt and Dwight stories.

By Miss Alli

Michael introduces Ryan to Dwight. Dwight tries to sound laid-back when explaining his scary, obscure hobbies, but when he opens his desk drawer, he explodes with rage, because his stapler has been captured in a Jell-O mold. As he goes to extract the stapler from inside the Jell-O, Michael stops him and tells him not to, snorting that it's perfectly good Jell-O, after all, and Dwight should eat the stapler free. One senses that right here, Michael is flirting with something that's actually funny, but he can't quite close the deal, and even more, he can't quit while he's ahead. Dwight wants Jim reprimanded, but Jim insists there's no way to know it's him -- while, of course, he eats a cup of red Jell-O. Michael goes for Fun Boss by "jokingly" telling Jim to stop harassing Dwight. "Dwight, I'm sorry," Jim says. "Because I have always been your biggest flan." This sets off the predictable cavalcade of dessert jokes. Of course, Michael chokes when it's his turn, and he narrates his own disaster, all, "I'm trying to think of...another dessert to do." If you're watching through interlaced fingers, that's a sign that you've been properly socialized.

At reception, Jim prods Pam to go out with everybody for drinks later. Just then, Roy comes obstructing into the room, at which point Pam THs that he's been her fiancé for three years. She says this with the necessary figurative fingers in her ears and the sound of humming. She figures they'll get married in the spring. Well, sure! She tells Roy she wants to go out with the work crowd (meaning with Jim, really, because...does she have other friends in the office?), but Roy squashes the idea, telling her they're going home. She grudgingly tells him she has to do her faxes. Jim and Roy are left standing at reception, both facing the ghost of Pam. Jim weakly tries to convince Roy to come along to the bar, but Roy clearly doesn't do anything that isn't what Roy wants to do, so he shuts Jim down without looking at him. Jim has his Krakow moment, thinking to himself that "if you, like, analyze why certain people end up with certain other people, it'll make you want to kill yourself," which is, incidentally, one of my favorite lines in television history. And it only gets truer as I get older. Finally, in one last attempt to make conversation, Jim asks Roy what's in the bag he's carrying, but Roy disgustedly tells Jim to tell Pam he'll catch up with her later and takes off. In a TH, Jim repeats the question he's apparently just been asked: "Do I think I'll be invited to the wedding?" He pauses. He scratches his head and doesn't answer, because the answer is, "Upon being asked that question, I realize that, in order to keep coming to work every day without removing my spleen with a fork and knife, I have been operating on the assumption that...I will not be invited to the wedding, and neither will anyone else, if you know what I mean."

In one of the conference rooms, Michael asks Ryan if he likes prank shows like The Jamie Kennedy Experiment, and tells him they're going to prank Pam, so Ryan should just follow Michael's lead. The short version of this agonizingly uncomfortable scene, which is approximately as uncomfortable as watching Jennifer Aniston host the Angelina Jolie Celebrity Roast, is that when Pam comes in, Michael tells her that she's fired. For stealing Post-It Notes. The whole time, Michael is transparently certain that this will be absolutely hilarious later, and he can barely contain his laughter. Pam can't believe the news of her sacking at first, but as she takes it in, she feels her structure further eroding, and she puts her head down and cries. It will be a long time before you see Pam cry again. Michael abruptly cracks up and tells her she's been pranked. Michael spreads the guilt by insisting that Ryan was "in on it," but when we look over at Ryan, who felt it when this turned from idiotic to horrifying, he's silently shaking his head. Great moment. It's funny, because Ryan is right to be horrified, but Ryan is also the most conflict-avoidant and self-interested person in the office. He's right, but for the wrong reasons. Pam is dumbfounded. "You're a jerk," she declares angrily to Michael, which she would never, ever do now, and she storms out.

Michael has recovered by the time he THs that the most important thing in a company is the people. His proudest moment, he says, was being asked to be the godfather to the child of a recent immigrant. Michael remembers his own greatness for a moment, then adds, "Didn't work out in the end. We had to let him go. He sucked." Apparently, Michael will only see him again if he dies and Michael has to raise the kid. [Smile merrily, cross fingers.]

Pam is still half-sniffling as she walks past Jim's desk and asks him what's up. They awkwardly stammer their way into an agreement to walk out together, but Roy the fun-killer starts honking the horn outside, so she takes off. Jim waves after her. As the theme music kicks up for one of the only scored moments in the show's history, Jim motions for the cameras to follow, then carries a large item into Michael's office. When he whisks off the cloth, we see that it is Michael's "World's Best Boss" mug, floating a large Jell-O mold. It's the kind of thing we'd all do, or we'd all like to think we'd do, if we were braver and younger and had prop departments.

You know, the first episodes have kind of a mixed reputation, and the tone is definitely off in certain ways -- Michael is a bit too gross, and Pam is too afraid of him and lacks sparkle, and so much of the humor is based on discomfort that you can barely sit through some of it because it's so effective, and there isn't the richness to the supporting cast yet. But in little moments, you can see Jim's mischievous but pained need to torment Dwight just to keep himself from going insane, Dwight's Oedipal need to defeat Michael while also gaining his approval, and the way Jim and Pam use each other as life preservers. There's plenty to come, but there's plenty here, too.