Friends Revisited

Still funny, sometimes cringe—just like young adulthood.

When Friends premiered in September 1994, I was nearly nineteen and a freshman at CU-Boulder, still living at home with my mom and sister because we couldn’t afford for me to live in the dorms. 

As a Gen X latchkey kid, my thoughts went something like . . . hey, there’s that chick from the “Dancing in the Dark” video and the waitress from Mad About You. And isn’t that West Beverly High tennis star Roger Azarian from 90210

The show was about people just a little bit older than me, living lives that seemed impossibly out of my reach. It was a fantasy set in a mythical New York with affordable apartments, very little crime, and endless free time to sip coffee at Central Perk. 

One of the first jokes my friends and I bonded over was in Episode 7 of the first season, “The One with the Blackout,” where Chandler calls to tell the gang that he’s trapped with a Victoria’s Secret model (and future Mrs. Harry Connick, Jr.) in a bank. 

Monica answers the phone, and Chandler, not wanting to be overheard, mumbles through pursed lips, “I’mmmstuckmminanmmATMmmvestibulemmwithmmJillmmGoodacre!”

“I have no idea what you’re saying!” Monica shouts and hands the phone to Joey, who listens to Chandler’s increasingly frustrated cry: “I’mmmstuckmminanmmATMmmvestibulemmwithmmJILLmmGOODACRE!”

“Oh my god!” Joey turns to the rest of the group, “He’s trapped in an ATM vestibule with Jill Goodacre!”

It’s this way of understanding each other (or not) that makes the friendships ring true. 

In another favorite, Season 4, Episode 12, “The One with the Embryos,” the gang plays a trivia game where they reveal secrets like, even though Rachel says her favorite movie is Dangerous Liaisons, it’s actually Weekend at Bernie’s. And Monica’s “nickname” on her high school team was “Big Fat Goalie.” And Monica and Rachel regularly steal Chandler and Joey’s TV Guide, which is addressed to Miss. Chanandeler Bong. 

The fact that no one knows what Chandler does for a living feels prophetic in today’s remote world of ridiculously named apps and nondescript jobs. I often think of the scene when Chandler’s at work on the phone and says, “I’m looking at the WEENUS and I’m not happy!”

Even the biggest Friends fans can agree that some of the plots got pretty out there. In the beginning, there were a lot of gags I didn’t care for, like ugly naked guy.

And I believe Ross spoke for all of us when he said, “Remember when I had a monkey? What was that about?”

The fat suit wouldn’t fly today. And Oprah was spot-on when she asked if they ever thought of getting any Black friends. The homophobic innuendo is very much out-of-date. It would have been more realistic if Chandler and Joey actually were gay, but that was way too progressive for the times.

Instead, Joey is our sex-crazed Lothario, always on the hunt for a new woman. Although, happily, his character evolves. 

My favorite Joey is the one we see in Season 7, Episode 11, “The One with All the Cheesecakes,” when he finds Rachel and Chandler picking at upside-down cheesecake that’s been dropped on the floor. 

Rachel and Chandler freeze with shame. Joey ambles toward them like John Wayne, dressed in a turtleneck, jacket, and jeans, his shoes making audible steps as he approaches with a stern look. He seems to assess the scene. His face brightens as he takes a fork out of his pocket, sits down and asks, “Alright, what are we having?”

The most obvious character arc would be Rachel’s reverse Cinderella story of the rich runaway-bride-turned-waitress. She may start out as a caricature of privilege, but by the end, she’s been transformed by opening her heart to Ross (something the old her never would have done) and carving out a career for herself in fashion (which probably wouldn’t have happened if she’d been raising kids with dentist Barry in the suburbs). 

As we learn in flashbacks, Monica has gone from a shy, awkward teenager in love with her brother’s college roommate to a highly successful chef—who apparently rarely has to be at work—married to that “dream guy” (although by the time she gets him, she’s more of a dreamboat than he is). 

On the surface, Monica is a nightmare: a neurotic control freak—the kind of person who announces loudly to all the party guests that they have to press the caps on the markers down firmly, “until they hear the click,” otherwise they’ll dry out. 

The jokes made about her weight aren’t funny, but I still appreciate Courteney Cox’s performance. She makes Monica sweet and vulnerable regardless of her ridiculous behavior or her appearance (and I think she is gorgeous as a heavier person too).

Her love story culminates in the seduce-off in Season 5, Episode 2, “The One with All the Kissing,” when Phoebe attempts to make Chandler admit what they all know: that he and Monica have been sleeping together. 

Lisa Kudrow and Matthew Perry are so perfectly awkward in this scene, with Phoebe dancing at him and saying things like, “I’m very bendy,” and Joey exposing her bra to intimidate Chandler because he’s scared of them and “doesn’t know how to work them.”

“The fact that no one knows what Chandler does for a living feels prophetic in today’s remote world of ridiculously named apps and nondescript jobs. ”

All this build-up makes it that much more satisfying when Chandler breaks down and spills the truth—that he loves Monica—and, as Phoebe might say (although in the context of Rachel and Ross), “he’s her lobster.”

When the show references the grittier side of life, it’s still done with humor, such as Phoebe’s past as an unhoused teenage runaway (which sounds hilarious!) and Monica having her identity stolen—although in true sitcom fashion, she ends up befriending the thief.

Matthew Perry’s struggle with addiction was a sad reality that viewers of the show couldn’t help but notice due to his see-sawing weight and sometimes jittery performances. It may be one of the biggest leaps of imagination we had to make—to pretend like we didn’t see that he was in pain and had been for a very long time.

But that’s why we’re drawn to the fantasy—to escape the unavoidable suffering of real life for a while. 

Friends gives us something to aspire to: the kind of enduring friendship where you not only support each other, but you play together. They are always finding creative ways to pass the time. 

For example, there’s the epic ping-pong tournament between Monica and Mike in Season 9, Episode 23-24, “The One in Barbados,” when the gang is trapped inside the hotel during a tropical storm at Ross’s paleontology conference. I love Paul Rudd—obvs—and Monica’s humidity hair is not only “inexplicable,” but hilariously true to life. The best part is how it ends. 

When Monica is injured and can’t finish the game, Chandler steps up and reveals mad table tennis skills that he had purposely kept secret from his ultracompetitive wife. Her eyes light up with a devilish mischief. (Little did she know she was married to Roger Azarian himself!)

Even when they’re not playing actual games, the friends are still playful. In Season 6, Episode 17, “The One with the Unagi,” after taking a self-defense class, Rachel and Phoebe declare that they can now fight off any attacker, but Ross scoffs at the idea that they’ve learned that much from just one class. 

“Oh? You don’t think I can self-defend myself?” Rachel shoots back at him. “Go over there and pretend you’re a sexual predator!” 

“Of course you could defend yourself from an attack you know is coming,” Ross replies. “Look, I studied ka-RA-TAY for a long time and there’s a concept you should be familiar with—it’s what the Japanese call . . . unagi.” 

When Rachel and Phoebe say they’re pretty sure unagi is freshwater eel, Ross says, “well maybe it means that too,” but, he says, it also means a state of total awareness that allows you to anticipate any danger that might befall you.

Later, after leaping out from behind the curtains and causing Ross to jump and scream in fright, Rachel imitates his earlier unagi reference, pointing to her temple and saying mysteriously, “. . .  aaahhh, salmon skin roll!”

The great thing about Ross is that, while he is a brilliant paleontologist, he is also kind of an idiot. He’s the guy doing “the routine” with Monica on Dick Clark’s Rockin’ Eve and looking like Mr. Kotter while playing “Axel F” on his Casio. His wholesomeness balances out the times when he comes off as vain—e.g., the time he wore the leather pants, or the time he bleached his teeth so white they glowed in the dark.

“The main thing I take away from my Friends retrospective is that, much like my own young adulthood, the show was never fully one thing—never only funny or sad, never only awkward or sweet. It was off-color and politically incorrect at times, but it was mostly good. We grew up a bit, even if we didn’t always recognize it in the moment.”

Revisiting Friends, I came to a revelation that the most important relationship of the series isn’t a romantic one, and it’s not even a friendship: It’s the sibling relationship between Ross and Monica. Nothing else on the show could have happened if they hadn’t remained friends through their awkward childhoods—but that doesn’t mean they always got along. 

In the unagi episode, Chandler is looking for a homemade gift to give to Monica and he stops at Ross’s apartment. Ross hands him a replica of Apollo 8 that he made in sixth grade. Chandler says, “Hey, that could work. I could say, ‘your love sends me to the moon!’” Ross corrects him and says, actually Apollo 8 never landed on the moon, but only circled it twice . . . But there’s another reason Chandler abandons the idea. 

“I can’t give this to Monica,” he declares. “It says, ‘Captain Ross’ on the side . . .” 

He flips the model rocket upside down. “And ‘I hate Monica’ on the bottom.”

Ross and Monica may not have always liked each other, but they loved each other enough to stay friends, even as grownups. This is a testament to the Gellars who, despite being a little clueless, are loving and supportive parents to their golden boy, Ross, and their “little harMonica.”

The main thing I take away from my Friends retrospective is that, much like my own young adulthood, the show was never fully one thing—never only funny or sad, never only awkward or sweet. It was off-color and politically incorrect at times, but it was mostly good. We grew up a bit, even if we didn’t always recognize it in the moment. 

I always think of Season 4, Episode 16, “The One with the Fake Party,” when Rachel, while attempting to woo her handsome client Joshua (JoSHWA!) ends up dressed in her high school cheerleading outfit. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Monica asks.

“My lucky dress wasn’t working out for me,” Rachel replies, “But for four years, this baby never missed.”

When Joshua does in fact ask her out in spite of the fact that she has split her lip open trying to handspring through the living room, Rachel points to her cheerleading uniform and announces triumphantly: “Every time.”

Ultimately, Friends reminds us that the best way to love each other is to lighten up and play—even if we have to make up the games ourselves—and to love each other whole, even when there are some episodes we’d rather forget.