Monster of the Week: Jim from The Office

The age of the yearner is upon us, and no one holds more of the blame than Jim Halpert.

Jim is the go-to example of the work husband/wife relationship, perhaps only beaten by the CBS duo of Kate Scott and Thierry Henry. He is patient zero for the boy-best-friend archetype. He spent years quietly pining over his co-worker Pam Beesly (Jenna Fischer), even though she was engaged, and when she rejects him, he moves across the country, hardly the nicest move.

This is just the tip of the iceberg with Jim Halpert, however. Who could forget his treatment of his Pam rebound, Karen (Rashida Jones)? He promises her that he never had any feelings for Pam, only to leave her when he decides he loves Pam again. That’s after he convinces her to move in with him as well.

Let’s also remember his repeated mistreatment of lovable office rogue Dwight Schrute (Rainn Wilson), who, yes, was once accused of firing a gun in the office, but apart from that was fairly harmless. Was his slightly abrasive nature and lack of social skills really enough to justify nine seasons of relentless bullying?

And what about when Andy Bernard (Ed Helms) returns from anger management, which, incidentally, was prompted by an incident Jim himself caused, only to be further tormented by the show’s supposed lovable hero? Andy politely asks Jim to call him Drew, but Jim refuses. “Is this a joke to you, Jim?” he later asks. It clearly always is.

Even when we look at John Krasinski’s career and rise to fame after the show, Jim Halpert seems fairly guilty. You could argue Jim Halpert is indirectly responsible for the film IF, which Krasinski wrote and directed. That alone might be enough reason to write this article. And yes, A Quiet Place is pretty good, but I would happily sacrifice it to get back the time I wasted watching IF.

In truth, the main problem with Jim Halpert is that The Office is determined to make him the hero. It is undeniable that Jim and Pam were meant for each other, but the romantic fairytale works because they were literally created for each other, from the pen of Greg Daniels.

Jim is written very differently from his British counterpart, Tim, brilliantly played by Martin Freeman. Tim is just as pathetic as any other character in The Office. He still lives with his parents at 30, gets his shoes thrown over a pub by the truly awful Chris Finch (Ralph Ineson), and, to cap it all off, is rejected by Dawn (Lucy Davis) at least three times before she finally says yes. It’s the slow, emotional journey of someone in love, without the heightened fantasy writing that clouds the US version. The fact that Tim spends an entire series trying to convince everyone that he only asked Dawn out “as a friend” is the kind of yearning we can all get behind. It is only when you compare these two stories that the contrast becomes painfully obvious.

Of course, it was not the intention of the US version to make Jim so morally questionable. It is a much lighter show than its British counterpart, so perhaps the modifications to Jim’s character suit the tone more aptly. It is also much harder to sustain deeply unlikable characters over nine seasons than over two series and a Christmas special. This became a template for many characters: Michael, Dwight, and even Angela all get their own moments of ‘redemption’. Gervais and Merchant ended their office at the perfect time, partly because they knew it was unsustainable to keep it going for much longer without losing the core of the show.

It is only because the US version so frequently transposes storylines, and sometimes even lines of dialogue, directly from the British original that the character’s morality becomes slightly muddied. Mackenzie Crook’s Gareth is far more openly unlikable than Dwight, so Tim’s taunts feel more like deserved jibes than poor-taste bullying.

Jim may have just listened to too much Jeff Buckley, but I think he’s at least guilty of some of the crimes outlined here, most egregiously making me watch Ryan Reynolds talk to CGI imaginary creatures in IF. The next time an office friendship goes sour after one party declares their love, I know exactly who I’m blaming.