Neighbors used to matter more than they do now — in real life (arguably) but certainly on TV, where they’ve largely vanished from the comedies they once supercharged with well-timed pop-ins, demands, complaints and schemes.
Sure, “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” set the tone for how Americans ought to value the folks around them, but the sitcoms of yore provided an outlet for other, less worthy feelings. Those mild resentments and jealousies were, for decades, powerful engines for humor, capitalizing on how annoying and endearing and just plain nosy the guys and gals next door can be. Need a laugh? Enter Kramer, hair vibrating from the explosive gusto with which he enters Jerry’s apartment. Watch Debra’s day get ruined by a visit from Marie. Whether they’re frenemies, advisers, rivals, chaos agents or pesky barnacles who won’t let go (as we’ve dubbed them below), sitcom neighbors were inescapable; that was partly what made them so funny.
In solemn recognition of how much their numbers have dwindled, here’s our ranked list of the best — by which we don’t mean the nicest — TV neighbors in sitcom history. — Lili Loofbourow
He may be in only three episodes, but Mitchell, known as a Broadway star, makes an indelible mark as Frasier’s upstairs nemesis. He bursts on the scene in Season 9 to torment Frasier, first with his giant SUV and then by blocking his view with a giant American flag. As Frasier’s cultured effete doppelgänger, he’s every bit as manipulative, silky-voiced, pretentious, eloquent and naive — and his mother and Frasier’s dad even pretend to date to try to end the pair’s feud. — Lili Loofbourow
Mark and Jez’s sexy, increasingly unstable neighbor initially seems like a straight woman of sorts, but she turns into a hurricane of dysfunction over the course of the series. When Toni isn’t roping Jeremy into pyramid-selling while chirping about “money pie” — or making out with him in front of her ex — she tortures him by dating his pal Super Hans and hires and seduces Jeremy to break up his new marriage. The very definition of a chaos agent, second only to Super Hans himself. — Lili Loofbourow
Both Schneiders liked to pop in on their sitcom families — a lot — in their respective versions of “One Day at a Time.” Harrington Jr. played the iconic handyman in the original series. Grinnell played the Alvarezes’ aimless needy landlord in the 2017 reboot. The former was a deluded blue-collar goofball who fancied himself God’s gift. The latter was a rich but tormented lost puppy. Both started as caricatures, and both wormed their way in enough to deliver some surprisingly touching moments. — Lili Loofbourow
Shy but gossipy and yearning to belong, Howard has a knack for inserting himself into this mystery-comedy’s almost every scenario while poignantly still standing just outside the central group of podcasting sleuths (Steve Martin, Selena Gomez, Martin Short). For all his eccentricities — including his emotional attachment to the Arconia building’s controversial robot doorman — he is also the most real-life-familiar character in a wacky ensemble: the oddly endearing fussbudget who runs a tight ship on your co-op board. — Amy Argetsinger
He treats the Mitchell family kitchen like it’s his own personal cafeteria, downing so many calories without gaining weight that you can’t help but be envious. But Hakeem also brings levity to the show’s occasionally serious topics, such as drug abuse, teen pregnancy, racism and gang violence. He’s Moesha’s best guy friend, and when she breaks up with her on/off boyfriend, Q, he’s there for a shoulder for her to lean on (before swooping in to later date her … spicy). — Amber Ferguson
In this stoner-ific universe, a floating carton of fries shares a home with a sociopath milkshake and an infantile wad of meat. And while their next-door neighbor is merely a bald, angsty bachelor in sweatpants and flip-flops, he’s as outrageous as any of them. With a brassy New Yawk accent, copious body hair and zero redeeming qualities, Carl’s primary activity is to be outraged (and abused) by whatever antics the Aqua Teens and their intergalactic visitors are perpetrating. You’d almost feel bad for him — if he wasn’t such a creep. — Gabe Hiatt
A model marriage they were not, but the volatile chemistry between these landlords of the Hacienda Palms apartments in “Three’s Company” set an enduring sitcom standard for bickering neighbors (though their eponymous spin-off lasted only one full season). Drab, grumpy Stanley is typically in debt and hunting rent; vivacious caftanned Helen is typically in heat and hunting Stanley. But together, they serve as an ersatz mom and dad to Jack, Janet and Chrissy’s dysfunctional family. — Michael Andor Brodeur
Bothersome yet lovable, he persistently busts through the door of twins Tia and Tamera — or even takes a ladder and peeks his head into their second-floor bedroom. Their dad tries at times to treat him like a son, but Roger always plays a prank or says something ridiculous that gets him kicked out. Still, he eventually shows that a dork can turn handsome and suave, and he elevates the drama between the twins when he attempts to date both at the same time. — Amber Ferguson
A suburban Texas neighborhood is disrupted by the arrival of an Asian family who are, unfathomably to the locals, neither Chinese nor Japanese. The father turns out to be as loud, smug and presumptuous as the “hillbilly rednecks” he must live among, even after his daughter forms a deep friendship with the White boy next door. Kahn’s broken, belligerent English was the work of a non-Asian voice actor until the 2025 reboot, but arguably, he undermined more racial tropes than he enforced. — Avi Selk
Subverting the nosy-neighbor archetype, Sean and Charmaine display no special curiosity about the barely disguised vampires in a corpse-strewn house next to theirs. The vamps attend the couple’s Super Bowl party, tolerate their constant bickering and even bail Sean out when he blows his savings on a pillow-based pyramid scheme. So the Rinaldis accept them as bona fide Staten Islanders — albeit ones who wipe their memories after particularly incriminating acts of horror. — Avi Selk
Somehow a thorn in the side of the Bluth family and also one of their greatest supporters, Lucille Austero routinely bests Lucille Bluth without much apparent effort. As the sitcom’s only other grande dame, “Lucille Two” amiably (and sometimes dizzily) parries her friend’s digs about her dead husband by moonily dating Lucille Bluth’s son Buster and, later, Bluth archrival Stan Sitwell. At one point, she even becomes the Bluth Company’s majority shareholder. A pleasure, a catalyst and a mystery. — Lili Loofbourow
He’s a teacher. He’s a gardener. He’s a Navy veteran. He’s a widower. Mr. Feeny transcends the label of mere neighbor. Both living next to the Matthews boys and seeing them in school allows him to dole out small lessons to them and just about anyone in need of one — including an entire generation of young television watchers, reminding us, always, to do good. Not do well. Do good. — Travis M. Andrews
This stylish divorcée is always quick with a quip or juicy gossip, but she’s much more than that. She’s auntie to the Evans kids, the rock in Florida Evans’s life, someone so central to their family that she carries the show in the fifth season after the parents get written off. Plus, she ends up adopting the character played by a 9-year-old Janet Jackson. — Elahe Izadi
Kimmy is the honorary fourth daughter in the Tanner clan — but she’s the black sheep, a contrast to her goody-two-shoes best friend, DJ, and a family that is all about hugs, love and working out whatever big problem in 30 minutes or less. She’s brash, loud and equal-opportunity rude, doling out jabs to kids and adults just the same. — Amanda Finnegan
Newman’s gleeful hatred of Jerry Seinfeld is singular, intense and unprovoked. As TV’s second-most intrusive postman (the top honor goes to Cliff Clavin of “Cheers”), Newman’s epic monologues about the mail (or Jerry) are bested only by the mute malice Knight could channel via that smarmy grin. When he isn’t needling Jerry (or sneaking into his apartment), he’s enabling Kramer on some glorious, harebrained adventure — the most memorable of which culminates in him screaming “Oh, the humanity” as his mail truck goes up in flames. — Lili Loofbourow
While Tim Taylor is all tools, cars and grunts, his next-door neighbor is deep wisdom, philosophy and history lessons. He provides sage advice to Tim and other Taylor family members through the tall wooden fence that divided the yards, always available for a consult at the perfect moment. Wilson’s full face was only finally revealed when the cast took their bows at the season finale. Tim Allen later revealed the character was inspired by his childhood, when he was too small to see his own next-door neighbor. — Amanda Finnegan
A beautiful witch moves to the block and relentlessly sins against decorum and causality. But whenever Gladys tells her husband the witch has cheated on housework or willed landscaping into existence, he makes her take antipsychotics from an unlabeled jar. Other occult sitcoms like “I Dream of Jeannie” and “ALF” have neighborhood spies, but none as hilariously tragic as this gaslit lookie-loo. The original actress kept her own secret from the audience: Pearce died of ovarian cancer after two seasons. — Avi Selk
While centered on housewife Mary Jenkins (Marla Gibbs), this is really a sitcom about neighbors and daily drama fueled by stoop gossip — much of it instigated by Sandra Clark, who seduces viewers and oh so many men. (Sandra boasts that when she walked past the Lincoln Memorial, “Lincoln stood up.”) Her riotous delivery — channeling both Mae West and Lucille Ball — earned her a historic Emmy win as the first Black actress to take best supporting actress in a comedy series. — Carla Spartos
In 1970, Mary Tyler Moore needed to convince America that the adorable, capri-pants-loving housewife she’d played on “The Dick Van Dyke Show” had evolved into an adorable, hat-throwing career woman. Enter wisecracking upstairs neighbor Rhoda Morgenstern, who would eventually earn her own spin-off series. New York-bred Rhoda is impulsive and outspoken. She wears chic headscarves — in Minnesota — and embraces being extra. Rhoda pushes Mary to be more. — Janice Page
In later years, sitcom producers took to surrounding affable “normal” stars with wacky scene-stealers. But Lucille Ball put herself at the center, so Fred and Ethel come off as the dowdy middle-class foils to the glamorous showbiz Ricardos. That doesn’t make the Mertzes the butt of the joke. While Frawley has a wry way with a comeback, it’s Vance who amps up the ensemble’s chemistry. Sharp-tongued Ethel’s barely concealed resentments toward the self-absorbed Lucy make it that much funnier when she gets swept up, yet again, in another of her pal’s cockamamie plans. — Amy Argetsinger
Never has a mother-in-law mother-in-lawed quite as hard as Marie, whose hovering, gimlet-eyed “support” Debra deals with year after year as punishment for marrying Ray, her favorite son. An excellent cook, a brutal critic and a master at psychological warfare, Marie even sabotages her own kids when it suits her. Roberts somehow makes narcissism palatable through nine seasons, selling it all — even the naked favoritism — as stemming from real, albeit twisted, maternal love. — Lili Loofbourow
Urkel plays many roles in the neighboring Winslow household — best friend to Eddie, foil to Carl and unrequited love to Laura. He’s known for his clumsiness, annoying voice, bad dance moves and tight high-waisted pants that were a counter to the low-slung baggy jeans of the 1990s — so much so that if your own pants were too high, you were called Urkel. In later seasons, in a plot to finally win Laura’s heart, Steve devises an elixir to turn him into the ultrasmooth, suit-wearing Stefan Urquelle. And he eventually wins out when Laura chooses his proposal over Stefan’s. — Amanda Finnegan
The garrulous sewer worker (err, “underground sanitation expert”) is primo second banana to Jackie Gleason’s bellicose, bus-driving Ralph Kramden — and an incredulous participant in his get-rich-quick plans (“chef of the future,” anyone?). Sure, Norton can occasionally be helpful (say, gamely teaching Ralph how to do “The Hucklebuck”). But he is just as likely to send Ralph in a downward homina-homina spiral by unwittingly besting him. Stuck in that tenement, they form one of the most hilarious duos in TV history. — Carla Spartos
Black dry cleaner George is the ultimate foil to racist Archie Bunker: Not only had he moved into a mostly White Queens neighborhood, he had the gall to be more successful. The pair love to trade barbs, but they are equally stubborn and prejudicial. Still, it’s was the ever-striving George who prevails, with he and wife, Weezy, “movin’ on up” to a luxury Upper East Side high-rise — and their own TV spin-off in which George, in turn, is the resident bigot to next-door neighbors the Willises, an interracial couple who also happen to be his son’s in-laws. — Carla Spartos
It is only proximity that would have brought together the uptight Jerry with this “hipster doofus” (inspired by co-creator Larry David’s onetime neighbor) and his projects, aliases, lawsuits, renovations, questionable entrepreneurship, lack of inhibition and unprecedented level of slapstick. Imagine how tightly wound the show would be without him: As the other three debate where to draw the boundary of societal norms, Kramer obliviously and gleefully sails past it, opening his friends’ eyes to what’s possible. — Zachary Pincus-Roth
He follows his Bible to the letter. He pays his taxes months in advance. And yet piety and positive thinking also have led Flanders to folly. He nearly bankrupts his family by opening a store for left-handed people. When his house is destroyed by a hurricane, his wife, Maude, admits that they don’t have insurance because her husband “considers it a form of gambling.” Ned may get his reward in the hereafter, but for now, his pursuit of virtue has left him stranded on Evergreen Terrace with Homer Simpson, the vexatious neighbor whom he is commanded to love. — Steve Kolowich
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