And “The Pitch…”

“I think I can sum up the show for you with one word: Nothing.”

—George Costanza, “The Pitch”

“It is my position that the male fear and anxiety central to Seinfeld collapses the commonly held idea, promoted by the show itself, that it is about nothing.”

—Joanna L. Di Mattia,

“Male Anxiety and the Buddy System on Seinfeld”

“I contend that it’s not a show about nothing.  It’s a show about food.”

—Sara Lewis Dunne,

“Seinfood: Purity, Danger, and Food Codes on Seinfeld.”

“Seinfeld then is not so much a show about nothing as a show that advocates nothing.”

—David Marc,

“Seinfeld: A Show (Almost) About Nothing”

“…within the events of the actual sitcom, the network never approves a show about nothing.  But what makes Seinfeld so compelling is its charting of the space between the two abstractions of nothing and something.”

—Barbara Ching,

“They Laughed Unhappily Ever After

Seinfeld and the Sitcom Encounter with Nothingness”

"Seinfeld is not a show about nothing; it is a show about everything."

—Tim Delaney,

The Sociology of Seinfeld

  

The infamous concept broached by George of a “show about nothing” is just one idea in the midst of a progression that ensues after two network executives approach Jerry about developing a series after he gets off stage at a comedy club.  The declaration, however, is important in beginning to define the show, considering how the progression of ideas was going up until that breakthrough. 

            George, in his indifference to the process of conceiving a sitcom, has an idea immediately after Jerry is propositioned in the nightclub to prove how easy it would be to make a show: “You coach a gymnastics team in high school. And you're married.  And your son’s not interested in gymnastics, and you're pushing him into gymnastics.”  It’s hard to say now, over fifteen years later, to what extent it seemed inevitable that Jerry and George would pitch what is essentially the very show that they are in, because it is hard to separate Seinfeld from that.  For this reason I don’t know how heavily the dramatic irony is inherently present—because it thoroughly overwhelms the scene in retrospect—in seeing these asinine television clichés coming from two men who will undoubtedly pitch their very lives as the show, or if there exists a stable way of understanding the irony of George’s gymnastics coach premise.

            At any rate, he moves on to a premise in which Jerry “runs an antique store, and gets involved with people’s lives.”  Jerry, with his smug, objective approach insists that being a pharmacist would more readily lend to getting involved in peoples lives “because a pharmacist knows what's wrong with everybody that comes in.”   The idea of stand-up-comedian-as-pharmacist already came up in opening monologue of “The Nose Job” in which Jerry, two and a half feet above his audience mocks pharmacists who “have to be two and a half feet above everyone else—what the hell is he (Jerry/the pharmacist) doing that he can’t be down there on the floor with you and me?”  Look out, everybody, I’m working with pills and jokes here. And in “The Diplomat’s Club” of the 6^th season Elaine’s boss Mr. Pitt literally mistakes Jerry for a pharmacist, one that has come down from his 2.5-foot stage because he puts a pen behind his ear and re-stocks a display that Kramer has knocked over.  Jerry directs him to antihistamines that could potentially be fatal mixed with his heart medication.

            The next scene is in Jerry’s apartment where Kramer is already putting in his two cents: “And you're the manager of the circus.”  It is as though a situation comedy premise were the line “These pretzels are making me thirsty,” a single line of blank verse through which each character expresses their essence, that Kramer has to deliver in the Woody Allen movie from “The Alternate Side” the previous season: Kramer is the quirky bohemian who passively pursues acting and is trying to nail his single sentence of dialogue, thus bringing the matter of interpretation to the other three; Elaine scrunches her face to emphasize the annoyance of it, “These PRET-zels are-makin’-me THIRST-y”; Jerry says it as an unnuanced stand-up observation, “These PRETZELS are MAK-in’ ME THIRST-y,” inciting Kramer to denounce the delivery of both Jerry the man and Seinfeld the sitcom actor: “No, see, that’s no good. See, you don’t know how to act”; and George brings it back to the storyline by nearly shouting in an expression of the rage that the troubles of the episode have caused him: “THESE PRETZELS!…(deep gasp)…ARE MAKING ME THIRSTY!” 

            And as such we have an indication of the psychology, not just personality, of each character in deciding what profession Jerry should be.  George is somewhat of a romantic, but wholly cheap, and thus places the show in an antique store; Jerry is clinical and unfeeling, but wants to bring objective certainty into the world, so he is a pharmacist; Kramer is zany, so Jerry manages a circus; Elaine, sadly, did not figure into the initial idea of the show and was brought in at the request of the network to make up for its lack of femininity, and so she appropriately is in Europe with her boyfriend.   Then Newman’s entrance ends the conversation and brings in the secondary plot.

            This same sequence—Jerry and George discussing the possibility of the show in a public place, then Jerry telling Kramer about it, then Newman interrupting the conversation—occurs again, but begins with Jerry and George in the coffee shop—a much more typical setting than the comedy club—this time aligning them with the perfect circle that the show is, and thus providing George with his epiphany after they briefly riff on the concept of salsa:

George: “See, this should be a show. This is the show.” 



Jerry: “What?”

George: “This. Just talking.”

Jerry, sarcastically: “Yeah, right.” 



George: “I'm really serious. I think that's a good idea.” 



Jerry: “Just talking? Well what's the show about?”



George: “It's about nothing.”



Jerry: “No story?”



George: “No forget the story.” 



Jerry: “You've got to have a story.” 



George: “Who says you gotta have a story? Remember when we were waiting for that table in that Chinese restaurant that time? That could be a TV show.”

Jerry: “And who is on the show? Who are the characters?”



George: “I could be a character.
”

Jerry: “You?”



George: “Yeah. You could base a character on me.”



Jerry: “So, on the show, there's a character named George Costanza?”



George: “Yeah. There's something wrong with that? I'm a character. People are always saying to me, ‘You know you're a quite a character.’”



Jerry: “And who else is on the show?”



George: “Elaine could be a character. Kramer—”

Jerry: “Now he's a character… So everybody I know is a character on the show.
”

George: “Right.”



Jerry: “And it's about nothing?”



George: “Absolutely nothing.”

The writers here have opened up a means to display the most insanely self-referential material to be broadcast in a situation comedy, allowing the show to discuss itself in a way that still manages to remain realistic. 

            For example, that George brings up “waiting for that table in that Chinese restaurant that time” as an episode exemplifies this duality, as it is something that occurred to the characters within the Seinfeld reality, and “a TV show,” that is “The Chinese Restaurant” episode, a landmark episode in the Seinfeld project to create minimalist storylines.    It is especially ironic that they declare that the situation comedy starring Jerry Seinfeld playing himself will be about nothing and have no story at the very moment Seinfeld—the situation comedy starring Jerry Seinfeld playing himself—begins to have storylines that go beyond a single episode, or even, in the case of the production of their pilot, the entire fourth season, a significant departure from “The Chinese Restaurant,” “The Parking Garage,” and “The Dinner Party” which are defined by the frustration of an event—respectively, being seated at Chinese restaurant, finding where the car is parked, and arriving at a party with a bottle of wine and a chocolate babka; at the end of each episode the event finally does occur although its fruition in each is completely ironic: “Seinfeld, four!” is announced the moment after they leave; when they finally find the car Elaine’s goldfish have died and Kramer, who has the keys, is still looking for his air conditioner, and when they find him the car does not start, which is especially ironic because the car was scripted to drive off in the end, though, in reality, could not start, inciting the cast to laugh; they arrive at the party, hopelessly late, hand over the wine and cinnamon babka, and leave.