It was 2013. The hype was, frankly, kind of unreal. After years of mostly doing voice work or guest spots on The Good Wife, the legend himself was coming back to network television. Everyone wanted The Michael J. Fox Show to be a home run. NBC was so confident they bypassed the pilot process entirely and ordered 22 episodes right out of the gate.
Then it aired. And then, well, it vanished.
But looking back at it now, the show is a fascinating artifact of television history. It wasn’t just another "dad has a job and a family" comedy. It was a meta-commentary on living with Parkinson’s disease, delivered by the man who had become the face of the condition. Honestly, it deserved better than the "canceled" bin.
The Premise That Blurred Reality and Fiction
The show followed Mike Henry, a beloved New York news anchor who had stepped away from the limelight after his Parkinson’s diagnosis. Sound familiar? It should. The parallels to Fox’s actual life were intentional and served as the show's backbone. Mike Henry was a guy who just wanted to get back to work, but he was stuck dealing with a family that loved him—maybe a little too much—and a public that viewed him as a "hero" rather than a professional.
That "hero" trope was something the show attacked head-on.
In the very first episode, there’s a scene where Mike’s old boss, played by Wendell Pierce, tries to use Mike’s condition for ratings. It was sharp. It was cynical. It was exactly the kind of humor people weren't expecting from a family sitcom. The show wasn't asking for pity. In fact, it went out of its way to make Mike Henry kind of an ordinary, sometimes annoying, dad. He happened to have tremors, but his real problems were his ego and his hovering wife, Annie (played by the brilliant Betsy Brandt).
Why the Comedy Felt Different
Most sitcoms rely on "set up, set up, joke." The Michael J. Fox Show tried something riskier. It used physical comedy that was actually rooted in Mike’s disability.
There’s a bit involving a ladling of soup that is uncomfortable and hilarious all at once. If anyone else had done it, it would have felt mean-spirited. Because it was Michael J. Fox, it felt like he was letting us in on a private joke. He was reclaiming the narrative. He was saying, "Yeah, I shake. And sometimes it’s funny. Watch me use it to get out of doing things I don't want to do."
The supporting cast was genuinely stacked. You had Katie Finneran as the sister, Leigh, who provided a chaotic energy that balanced out the family dynamic. The kids felt like real kids—not those weirdly polished sitcom robots who only speak in zingers. They were bored by their dad's "bravery." They just wanted him to pass the salt.
The Ratings Trap and the NBC Struggle
So, what happened? If the show was good, why did it die?
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Television in 2013 was a brutal place for traditional sitcoms. NBC was struggling to find its post-The Office identity. They placed The Michael J. Fox Show in the 9:30 PM slot on Thursdays, hoping it would anchor a new "Must See TV" lineup. It didn't work. The premiere numbers were decent—around 7.5 million viewers—but they cratered quickly.
By the time the show reached its fifteenth episode, the audience had shrunk to less than 2 million.
The critics were split. Some loved the honesty. Others felt the "mockumentary" style (which was everywhere at the time thanks to Modern Family) felt dated. There was also a sense that the writing couldn't quite decide if it wanted to be a gritty look at disability or a lighthearted romp. It lived in the middle. And in the world of network TV, the middle is a dangerous place to be.
The Legacy of Mike Henry
Even though NBC pulled the plug before the final seven episodes even aired in the US, the impact of The Michael J. Fox Show lingers. It paved the way for shows like Speechless or Special—series that center on disability without making the entire plot a "very special episode" about suffering.
Fox himself was nominated for a Golden Globe for the role. It proved he still had the comedic timing that made him a star in the 80s. His performance was nuanced. He showed the frustration of a man who was once the fastest talker in the room now having to fight his own body to get a sentence out.
It was a brave swing.
Maybe the world wasn't ready to laugh at Parkinson’s in 2013. Maybe the scripts needed one more pass. But the show remains a testament to Fox’s resilience. He didn't want to hide. He wanted to work. He wanted to be funny. And for 22 episodes, he was.
How to Appreciate the Show Today
If you're looking to revisit this series or see it for the first time, here are the best ways to engage with its themes and history:
- Watch for the Guest Stars: The show featured incredible cameos, including Chris Christie (playing himself) and Anne Heche. These moments highlight how the show was trying to integrate real-world New York culture into its DNA.
- Compare to 'No Time Like the Future': If you really want to understand the mindset Fox was in during the production, read his memoir, No Time Like the Future. He talks candidly about the physical toll the show took on him and why he eventually decided to retire from acting for good.
- Focus on the Family Dynamic: Ignore the "newsroom" B-plots for a second. The real heart of the show is the chemistry between Fox and Betsy Brandt. They felt like a couple that had been through the wringer and came out the other side with their sense of humor intact.
- Check Digital Storefronts: While it’s not always on the major streaming "free" tiers, the full season is often available for purchase on platforms like Apple TV or Amazon. It’s worth the few bucks to see a master of the craft take one last big swing at a leading role.
The show wasn't a failure because it wasn't funny. It was a casualty of a changing media landscape and a public that perhaps wasn't quite ready for its brand of radical honesty. But for anyone who has dealt with chronic illness, or just loves a good underdog story, it’s a vital piece of television history.