The U.S. version of The Office is set in the Pennsylvania branch of a fictional paper supply company. (Canwest Media Inc.)

It wasn’t always this way — but now, there’s a moment in every episode of the comedy series The Office that stimulates the irrational rage centre of my brain. It happens every time paper salesmen Jim Halpert (John Krasinski) looks knowingly at the camera and raises his eyebrows, as if to say, “Do you get it? The comic absurdity of the situation?” This once-fresh gesture — a cheeky acknowledgment of the show’s mockumentary set-up — now feels like a bad habit borrowed from the sitcom. It has become the visual equivalent of a corny catchphrase.

Now in its fifth season, the American version of The Office has abandoned the discipline of the mock-doc format for the absurdity and repetition that marks the classic sitcom.

The Office depicts the goings-on at the Scranton, Pa., paper company Dunder-Mifflin. In its first few seasons, the series smartly established itself as an independent entity and not just a pale cast of the original British version, which debuted on the BBC in 2001. But now, well into its fifth season, the American Office feels like it has abandoned the discipline of the mock-doc format for the absurdity and repetition that marks the classic sitcom. It’s morphed into a skit-com.

The mockumentary form has thrived under the stewardship of a few select visionaries. Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant, creators of the original Office, wisely chose to limit the series to two seasons and two specials (14 episodes in all). More to the point, their writing was smart. The show took a perspective on the workplace, representing it as a colossal bore only enlivened by the eccentricity of fellow co-workers. The principal characters were given a satisfying arc — laughs didn’t come at the expense of characterization; they followed from it.

For example, paper salesman Tim (Martin Freeman) and receptionist Dawn (Lucy Davis) struggled with their feelings for one another and were eventually united. By the close of the series, regional manager David Brent (Gervais) had changed, too, becoming a slightly improved version of his former self. After his humiliating dismissal, David made a painful attempt to become the “chilled-out entertainer” that he always claimed to be. Through failure, however, he discovered his better nature. A credit to the skill of the writers, David won his redemption with genre-appropriate profanity, telling his creepy pal Chris Finch to eff off after he insulted Brent’s new girlfriend. The moment was — and remains — one of the most potent declarations of affection made by a comic lead.

Steve Carell stars as Dunder-Mifflin regional manager Michael Scott in the U.S. version of The Office. (Canwest Media Inc.)

The American version of The Office, however, has come to rely on conventional sitcom gimmickry – every week, there’s some new high jinks, and the characters do things that often don’t jibe with their personalities. The show’s comic centre, boss Michael Scott (Steve Carell), is spinning wildly off his axis. One week, he’s a creep, attempting to have the harmless Toby arrested for drug possession; the next week, he’s a weepy romantic, mourning the loss of recent amour Holly. The show’s resident banana peel, Scott goes where this week’s gag leads.

The writers’ initial interest in deriving humour from the mundane tedium that characterizes most 9-to-5 jobs is now lost — and sadly missed. So, too, is the original desire to reveal the comic absurdities that define human relationships at work. Jim Halpert and receptionist Pam Beesly (Jenna Fischer) are engaged, but that semi-relatable coupling is often eclipsed by the yuk-heavy Dwight/Angela/Andy tripling. Angela Martin (Angela Kinsey), the office ice queen with a cat fetish, is engaged to the Barney Fife-like Andy Bernard (Ed Helms) yet is having an affair with assistant to the regional manager Dwight Schrute (Rainn Wilson). Sounds normal, possibly interesting. Not really. The show writers use this little plot point as an excuse for workplace duels and fake marriage scenarios. Recent attempts to develop secondary characters like supplier relations exec Meredith Palmer (Kate Flannery) also went straight to wackytown with an in-office intervention (turns out Meredith’s a drunk) and kidnapping.

The mockumentary conceit offers a fictionalized slice of life; the jokes don’t come hot and fast but do a slow burn. A good mockumentary makes you wonder if you should be laughing at all. By stressing the joke above all else, the American version of The Office is beginning to parallel When the Whistle Blows, the silly (fake) workplace comedy that Gervais and Merchant mocked in their last series, Extras. There’s very little difference between Jim Halpert’s consistent mugging for the camera and Ray Stoke’s equally played-out catchphrase, “Is he ‘avin’ a laugh?” Wait, there is a difference: Stoke’s cheap laugh was funny because Gervais used it ironically.

The mockumentary conceit offers a fictionalized slice of life. The jokes don’t come hot and fast but do a slow burn.

It seems to me that the mockumentary has a best-before date. Chris Lilley’s Summer Heights High (HBO) is the most recent example of the genre well used and even better understood. Spanning only eight episodes, Lilley’s inspired view of the public education system in Australia managed to be controversial, cruel, funny and poignant. The story went somewhere, and it took its characters along for the ride. Lilley made the ridiculous real.

Christopher Guest (Spinal Tap, Waiting for Guffman) is the undisputed king of the mock-dockers, but he takes an economic approach to the form, sticking to the one-off film format, and perhaps for good reason. Spinal Tap: The Series doesn’t sound like such a hot prospect for TV — how many different vegetables could Derek Smalls (Harry Shearer) wrap in tinfoil and shove down his pants? The conventions of the sitcom will answer that question for you — again and again.

Trailer Park Boys, Canada’s own beloved mock-doc, is a homegrown example of how the genre can fall victim to sitcom clichés. (The show went off the air this past December.) At its best, TPB offered a funny and authentic glimpse into hoserdom, a dominant aspect of Canadian culture that rarely receives prominent play. But by season seven, the show had grown too attached to the catchphrases and props — Bubbles’s funny glasses, Julian’s rum and coke — that once made it unique. TPB wasn’t saying anything new but wrung its best jokes dry. Ricky and Julian went to prison too often, and the ever-endearing Bubbles took it on the jutting chin just one too many times.

Jim Halpert and Michael Scott, you’re not above the rules that apply to our best hosers. The clock is ticking for The Office. Might be nice to say something meaningful before the alarm strikes.

The Office airs Thursdays.

Flannery Dean is a writer based in Toronto.