When I watched the season finale of Parks and Recreation’s sixth season, I was caught off guard. For a
moment, we’re transported into the future of Leslie Knope’s career and the
parks service powerhouse she built in her humble Indiana hometown. It’s clear
there’s a lot on her plate. I assumed it was a one-off thing, and that Season 7
would be the build-up to that conclusion. I assumed wrongly.
Season 7 is a bizarre capstone to NBC’s sitcom about local
government. It’s a show that borrows some of the cinéma vérité elements of NBC’s previous hit, The Office, but never quite commits itself to the mockumentary
premise. Parks and Rec rises above
its predecessor with a superior cast and a sense of humor that takes less
pleasure in the misfortune of its characters. Let it never be said that Parks and Rec overstayed its welcome. It
went out with an absurdly strong final season, one whose success hinged on more
than a happy ending.
For the first six seasons, Parks and Recreation is fairly conventional as far as sitcoms go.
It doesn’t do anything too ambitious, and it sticks to its strengths: its
outrageous characters and sharp writing. But then Season 7 comes along and
jumps us forward a couple years to 2017. And, because it’s the future, the
series adds a dash of science fiction to the mix.
They don’t go overboard with the advancement of technology.
We don’t have flying cars or advanced robotics, but we do have more
sophisticated personal technology like hologram-producing phones and tablets.
Current events are amusing little reminders that say, “Hey guys, we’re in the
future,” but nothing too outrageous. Except maybe that bit about the Cubs
winning the World Series. The show even makes a commentary on the proliferation
of intrusive technology mining personal data. Nothing groundbreaking, but a
chilling tone for an otherwise cheerful series. And yet, it all still seems to
fit.
The speculative fiction never goes overboard because Parks and Recreation isn’t a scifi show.
It’s always been a show about an ambitious public servant, her eclectic
colleagues, and their Midwestern town. But for a whole season, it dreams about
what could have been. It’s probably best that they left it for its last season
and a single season at that. I can see the future trope running out of steam
beyond the scope of a season. But a great deal of attention should be paid to Parks and Recreation’s bold move. The
writers should be applauded for successfully shoehorning another genre into its
series late into the game.
