A family affair

Dad's in prison. Their real estate empire is crumbling. Dysfunction rules. No wonder we love Arrested Development's Bluth dynasty, says Alison Powell
The Bluth family
'Arrested Development literally rolls in chaotic chutzpah' ... the Bluth family

As Hollywood agents worry about the demise of the town's lowing cash cow, the multi-camera, staged sitcom, here to save the day is Arrested Development, a farce of such blazing wit and originality, that it must surely usher in a new era in comedy. With no natural heir to Friends (despite fairly impressive ratings in the UK, Joey is slumping at home) and Will And Grace wandering aimlessly in a desperate haze of pimped-out guest spots, the door to a new form of TV comedy has not stood this wide open in years. Arrested Development may be modest but it packs a serious punch. For the past two seasons it has won dozens of awards, including a Golden Globe, sowed vast tracts of adoring land in the press, and assured a place in the TV hall of fame for its cast. It is The Passion Of The Critic.

Set in Orange County, California, Arrested Development follows the struggles of the Bluth family, real estate developers who lose their grip on an empire, launched from single banana stand, after embezzling patriarch, George Bluth, is jailed in the first episode. In a brilliant stroke of casting George is played with deadpan relish by Larry Sanders alum, Jeffrey Tambor. Holding the clan together is middle son Michael Bluth, played by Jason Bateman, a thankless job but one that gives him many of the best lines. In its basic makeup, Arrested Development appears at first to be a warped cousin to The OC, similarly centred on a powerful Jewish Newport Beach family with big money and bigger problems. However, to look for a more fitting model of just what Arrested Development means to the pop culture landscape, one should perhaps turn not to southern California's west coast but to New York's Upper West Side and the turf pioneered by Seinfeld.

Like George, Jerry, Kramer and Elaine, the Bluths are a family unit without scruple or remorse. The battle for control of the Bluth holdings pumps like an apple press, extruding the worst, and therefore most watchable, in human nature. In Britain, the series has been bounced around the schedule so often and to so many exotic time periods, viewers hoping to follow the weekly storylines face a tough challenge.

Nonetheless, as created by Mitchell Hurwitz, Arrested Development literally rolls in chaotic chutzpah and is worth every agonising moment spent searching for it on the dial. Michael Bluth lives with his 13-year-old son, George Michael, in the attic of the company's "model home," trying to keep the lower floors pristine should a paying customer happen through. But it isn't a buyer who thrills to the embossed comfort of the bizarre, secluded mansion dropped on a dirt embankment, but rather Michael's emotionally and financially strapped siblings and in-laws.

Each episode is a packed fruitcake of targets ripe for a takedown: amateur theatricals, charity fundraising, arsonists, spa treatments and transvestites. Perhaps Arrested Development's greatest victory though is that it has made guest star Liza Minnelli, who plays Lucille's neighbour and Buster's unlikely love interest, Lucille 2, downright cool. She is an astonishingly good sport.

Ironically, for an underdog, the series could not boast a purer pedigree. Overseen by uber-producers Brian Grazer and Ron Howard and trading the standard laugh track for a dry but pleasing voiceover by Howard himself, Arrested Development enjoys the attentions of the team that brought us Apollo 13, Beautiful Mind and 24. These are not lightweights.

Much has been made of the award season bounty hefted onto the series. But it is its rumoured cancellation that generates equal amounts of chatter. Yes, the network protests that there are no plans to end it, but audiences have every reason to greet these denials with scepticism and even panic. Among other honours, Arrested Development is the latest in a holy confederation of daring, original American television programmes that just can't haul the numbers needed to keep their slot in prime time. Recent additions to the canon include Freaks And Geeks, Family Guy, Wonder Falls, and the show that started the campaign for quality in the hopeful Clintonian 1990s, My So Called Life.

It's a painful cycle that has grown agonisingly familiar to the segment of the audience not high on advertiser's agendas: student wage-earners sick to death of watching adorable TV tykes curtsey and doting sitcom parents solve it all with a hug. We've been here before: An idea, a voice, a soundtrack, a mention of your favourite book, come along and speak to you and then just when you think your team has a chance of winning, it's all yanked away from you. The networks placate anxious viewers with soothing talk about keeping cult hits on the air and then bump them onto hiatus, never to return.

Efforts to save Arrested Development are gaining momentum. Fans can donate money on Amazon to help pay to circulate petitions and send Fox executives "banana stress balls" to make their point. Bateman and Cross have both gone on late-night TV to plead for their jobs and interviews with Hurwitz are spinning across the internet. If they are not successful, we may be stuck waiting for the public to catch up on DVD, by which time the cast will have moved on, the moment passed. In the meantime we will have no shortage of new hits to watch. Tune in for Law And Order: Tailoring Unit, The Bachelor: Golden Girls Celebrity Edition, and CSI: Staines.

· Arrested Development, Season 1 on DVD, is out March 21