By Robert J. Thompson
Special to The Washington Post
Sunday, August 6, 2006
Brenda Hampton is responsible for what is arguably the sappiest, squarest show on any of the broadcast networks.
She created "7th Heaven" and for 10 years has served as executive producer of the show and a frequent episode writer. As such, Hampton is a revolutionary. By resisting the hip, embracing the sweet and defying the television formulas of the 21st century, she delivered what might be the most avant-garde series on TV today.
In a culture sodden with irony, Hampton tried taking an old-fashioned approach to the television family. Astonishingly, it worked, and "7th Heaven" became the WB's biggest hit. The show was canceled in November, but in May -- after the finale had played, the cast and crew had scattered and the producer had turned off her cellphone -- the decision was made that the show would rise again in the fall with 13 fresh episodes on the new CW network. The last of a species that once dominated Planet Television was snatched from the jaws of extinction.
Once upon a time, the TV schedule was filled with utopian visions of happy families. Parents ruled with gentle but firm authority; hijinks and drama were leavened with heaping helpings of love and understanding. The 1950s through the '70s gave us the Andersons, the Cleavers, the Nelsons, the Waltons and the Ingallses. Even into the 1980s, the Huxtables, Seavers and Keatons continued the tradition of corny but comforting clans.
The appearance of "All in the Family" in 1971 mounted an early challenge to this dominant vision, but it wasn't until the late 1980s that a toxic trio of comedies -- "Married . . . With Children," "Roseanne" and "The Simpsons" -- changed the rules of engagement.
As seasons passed, the warm and fuzzy approach to families on television was all but annihilated. What seemed so radical in the '80s and '90s became commonplace, and now the dysfunctional family is a familiar formula. Most shows about families are awash in hipness, up-to-the-minute pop culture references and a sense of knowing cynicism.
Yet family life is, after all, often sweet and sad, teary and overwrought. "Leave It to Beaver" and "My Three Sons," both wonderful shows, included trenchant -- and still-relevant -- observations about middle-class family life in the second half of the 20th century.
Hampton, who grew up with these shows, seems to know this.
"'7th Heaven' is a family show done in the same style as the shows from early on," she said. "Gadgets have changed. Fashions have changed. But families haven't changed that much."
Not many viewers want to return to the days of "Father Knows Best," but perhaps some stories about family are best told in the key of cheese.
What's so astonishing about "7th Heaven" is the shameless, almost aggressive way it resists being hip. Right from the start, the theme song lyrics defiantly declare the style of another place and time: "When I see their happy faces smiling back at me / I know there's no greater feeling than the love of family."
Sure, it's corny -- but it's appealing, especially with corn in such short supply these days. (And before viewers get the idea that Hampton is hopelessly out of touch, they should remember that she's the same person who made, in partnership with Kirstie Alley, the Showtime series "Fat Actress," a show about as hip and snotty as they come.)
While the idiom "seventh heaven" comes from an idea in Islamic tradition, "7th Heaven" follows the lives of seven Protestants -- a minister, his wife and their five children. (A set of twins born in a subsequent season brought the number of children up to the magic seven.)
The show may have the heart of a 1950s series, but its soul is much more contemporary. The 1996 pilot episode included a story about a boy who wants to get a dog, and another about a girl who wants to get her first period.
This blending of the old (a family pet) with the new (tampons) established from the first episode the tone that would characterize the series. Old-fashioned "family values" were played out in many episodes that focused on contemporary issues that could never have been broached by Ozzie or Harriet, including hate crimes, drug use, teenage pregnancy and the Holocaust.
In an era when "very special episodes" are the targets of late-night comedians and snarky bloggers, "7th Heaven" just keeps them coming. When most TV shows have retreated from the sappy "awww" moments, "7th Heaven" stacks them up like Russian nesting dolls. It's not just old school; it's militantly old school.
As it begins its 11th season Sept. 25, it's likely that "7th Heaven" will continue to break new ground by holding fast to the old.
Robert J. Thompson is a professor of television and popular culture at Syracuse University.
7th HEAVEN
8 p.m., CW
Season premiere Sept. 25
Mom's the WordCatherine Hicks, 55, took a few moments at Summer TV Press Tour 2006 in Pasadena, Calif., to chat about her role as Annie Jackson-Camden, mother of the Camden crew, and the resurrection of "7th Heaven":
How has the show changed over the years?
It hasn't really. I mean, the kids have grown up. But the reason . . . it hasn't changed is our writer-creator has not left us. These shows -- they get a hit and the writers want to do movies or something and they leave and then the shows die. So the mother, the creator, has to stay. And Brenda [Hampton] has stayed. She's a disciplined writer.
"7th Heaven" has spotlighted a number of causes over the years; what ones come to your mind as being outstanding?
I remember we did a show on cutting years ago, and I'd never even heard of it. But now I know tons; it's just a real problem. We deal with eating disorders. We deal with mental illness. You name it, we deal with it. . . . We have the comedy of a sitcom because Brenda comes from sitcom. So we're not sappy, but we have the seriousness of an hour drama. And we also have a little bit of educational and helpful stuff, so it's a pretty full little package.
What about seeing these children -- the actors and their characters -- grow over the years?
Well, you don't really realize it until your daughter has it on in the afternoon and they have the early shows on. It's almost surreal. . . . It becomes a photo album of your own personal lives.
-- Judith S. Gillies
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