OPINION
Friends, and especially Matthew Perry’s Chandler, was a blueprint for my future life - but with funnier jokes and better clothes
I was staying in a friend’s spare room after a recent breakup when I read the tragic news about Matthew Perry. Despite the huge pain I felt, his death made me realise how grateful I have been for my friends recently, and how grateful I will always be for Friends.
Whatever any of my friends and I go through, there is already an episode of the sitcom that has explored the same situation but with more precision, funnier jokes and better clothes. Humiliated yourself on a date? Think of Ross and his leather trousers. Felt awkward splitting a bill with a much more successful friend? There’s an episode about that. Someone confesses they don’t like dogs? There’s literally “The One Where Chandler Doesn’t Like Dogs”.
After reading the news I continued my nomadic existence towards the next flat where I was due to stay. My third in a month. As I dragged a huge bag and a suitcase in the rain past a queue of people who all stared blankly at me, I thought about how Friends has taught me to embrace this difficult stage of life and laugh in the face of it. Moving to a new place isn’t so bad. Chandler and Joey have one of the most special on-screen friendships of all time, and they basically met through SpareRoom. Life goes on, Monica gets over Richard, Chandler gets over Kathy, Ross gets over Carol, Emily, Mona, Charlie, etc. In any case, all the emotional heartache ends up being a source of humour at Central Perk.
Chandler was always particularly reliable in this regard. He laughed at his friends while letting them mercilessly mock him, he supported Monica when she was going through clear mental health issues, as he did Joey’s unsuccessful performing career by paying his rent and attending his terrible shows. As a stand-up comedian myself, I thought about how my own friends, with their own idiosyncrasies and individual character arcs, have done the same for me. They’ve listened to me, let me stay in their spare rooms, and have dutifully bought tickets to my own terrible shows.
This is why Friends is so evergreen. Of course, tastes change, types of jobs change, and rent in London is now as unaffordable as it is in Manhattan, but at the heart of the show is an emphasis on friendship, something you often undervalue until you need it the most.
I should point out that, as a 90s-born millennial, I am not the Friends generation, but my obsession points to the fact that the show is uncancellable, one for the ages. I watched Friends assiduously as a child, but its teachings didn’t kick in until later. Could the young girl slowly amassing a collection of Friends VHS tapes have foreseen that when I was laughing at Ross shouting “pivot!” as Chandler and Rachel tried to manoeuvre a sofa upstairs, that I would continually be in the same situation as I painfully moved in and out of various flats? Did I notice Rachel’s growth from spoiled brat to independent single mother, or did I just like her outfits? Was I connecting to the significance of Richard not wanting children with Monica? Or did I just like the purple wall? Unbeknownst to the child-me, Friends was drawing up a blueprint of what my future might look like.
The show taught me, with its emotional accuracy and light touch, instinctively how to zoom out and laugh at the relatively easy ups and downs of metropolitan early adulthood. But at its heart are six incomparable performances, one of which was Matthew Perry’s.
Despite being haunted by Chandler Bing for the rest of his career, Perry’s brilliant, hilarious performance has been such a tonic for so many people. He captured the tragedy at the core of Chandler which makes him genuinely compelling and actually funny. He made us laugh while also letting us peek at Chandler’s despair – a despair which fuels and is masked by, all of his jokes.
These days, Chandler would be discredited as a “generic white male”, but Perry brought him a distinct personal identity. He showed us a man unfulfilled at work, lost between careers, deeply insecure, invariably depressed, and emotionally damaged by his parents. But also someone who could laugh at himself, and show constant sparks of brilliance despite his mediocrity. He also truly valued his friends and put them at the heart of his life, and was ultimately rewarded by finding true love with Monica. Perhaps Perry’s portrayal of Chandler’s vulnerabilities, insecurities, silliness, quiet kindness and caustic wit, helped me understand similar men in my life.
Perry said he knew he would be mainly remembered for Friends, but wanted to be remembered as someone who helped people struggle with addiction as he did. But are the two so separate? Friends is a show that highlights the deep importance of what, in the world of addiction, would be described as “support networks”. I hope he knew how many people he entertained and supported with his performance. His tragic death speaks to a darker side of life, not discussed in Friends, but something we should be continually vigilant of. Look after your friends. Whatever you’re going through, from addiction to heartache, the light in the dark is so often in them.
Flora Anderson is a stand-up comic and improviser. Instagram: @videoflone
Broadcaster has written a new book about the joys of getting older.