There’s an old saying about how only the comedian can call a king a fool to the king’s face without losing his head. If that’s the case, then All in the Family didn’t just call the king a fool; it practically slapped him and his royal court in the face with a 2×4.
Semantics and monarchies aside, what this expression gets across is that comedy, at its heart, is a defense mechanism—a way for us to deal with harsh truths that we otherwise couldn’t bring up in polite conversation for fear of retribution, ostracism, or worse.
This doesn’t mean the comedian has to be liked. It just means they can get you to either see things differently or rejoice in the fact that someone can “tell it like it is.” Archie Bunker did both for many, even though his character was never meant to be likable.
Times have changed. The internet has given voices to those who previously had none, providing equal footing to all, no matter how absurd the idea. In the spirit of free speech, we’ve all become more sensitive today than we were in 1971 when Archie, Edith, Meathead, and the gang first hit the airwaves.
To say that a show like All in the Family couldn’t be made today is a bit of an exaggeration. Shows like It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia and South Park are proof of that. But All in the Family had a starkness that made it shine. For those who were “in” on the joke, it was great to see the racist bigot Archie Bunker put in his place time and again through Carroll O’Connor’s brilliant acting.
The Power of Comedy
Growing up in a racial cauldron of the ’70s, my hometown was a hotbed of Black Panther rallies, anti-Civil Rights protests, and Cuban immigrants looking for a place to stay. It was a world caught between the old America and, as Bob Dylan noted, the times that were a-changin’. All in the Family was my first exposure to the power of comedy—the ability to call the king out on his BS while making everyone laugh out loud.
This comedic boldness was mirrored in the work of George Carlin and Richard Pryor, who also skated on the razor’s edge like All in the Family did. Some people identified with Archie Bunker, and that was fine: He represented an America afraid of change. But everyone else—from Edith to the Jeffersons to Meathead—lambasted Archie for his close-minded ways. The tension was always there, even though we knew deep down inside that they loved each other.
Whether you loved or hated Archie Bunker, his influence can’t be denied. Every time I see Homer Simpson, Al Bundy, or Peter Griffin on TV today, I’m waiting for them to tell their wives to stifle themselves and get them a beer.
Thank goodness All in the Family remains a staple on late-night TV. Every time I tune in, I remember why it’s important in today’s ever-sensitive world to have a jester who can call out a king. This show did, and those were the days.