Network: TV

So I was flipping through the channels last night and discovered that 90210 was in the middle of it's first airing. They say time is cyclical; history too. All things eventually repeat themselves. It's is no shock that T.V. repeats itself, we've been aware of this for awhile. But have we really come full circle now? Can we say we're back at the beginning. For my generation that time is now.

Sure, Password, Pyramid, and every other gameshow (except Press Your Luck? Why? Whammy. That's why) have been remade and recycled to the masses in recent years. But that was infant T.V. Starsky and Hutch has become a movie, along with every other mildly successful T.V. show from the 70s. Again, pre-me. Enter 90210. A continuation remake of the hit O.C. of my life. I watched it at times, missed it more often than not. I remember very, very little about it. But it's back on T.V. now.

I have long given up caring about T.V. Ever since reality T.V. made inroads into the culture. I still do not care. I do not watch dramas; I prefer comedies. My shows are: 30 Rock, The Office, How I Met Your Mother, The New Adventures of Old Christine and Pushing Daises. And Scrubs -- whatever channel that's on (DVR!).

I express this in the interest of full disclosure. I'm not on the outside looking in. I'm also aware of the large plank in my own eye. Recently I watched Definitely, Maybe. Somewhere I'm sure it was billed as a Romantic Comedy. How romantic comedies have changed. How they less and less represent the ideals of love and more and more represent the accepted reality that love is malleable. I'd say it's sad because it is.

As for television and movies then I am fascinated by the prescient and absolutely brilliant Network, a mid-70s Oscar winner:

Max Schumacher: It's too late, Diana. There's nothing left in you that I can live with. You're one of Howard's humanoids. If I stay with you, I'll be destroyed. Like Howard Beale was destroyed. Like Laureen Hobbs was destroyed. Like everything you and the institution of television touch is destroyed. You're television incarnate, Diana: Indifferent to suffering; insensitive to joy. All of life is reduced to the common rubble of banality. War, murder, death are all the same to you as bottles of beer. And the daily business of life is a corrupt comedy. You even shatter the sensations of time and space into split seconds and instant replays. You're madness, Diana. Virulent madness. And everything you touch dies with you. But not me. Not as long as I can feel pleasure, and pain... and love.

Now, with the recycled 90210 television has touched my time and is well on it's way to destroying that. Unless, of course, they bring back MacGyver. That would be awesome.

Magical Reality T.V.

In anticipation of my reading One Hundred Years of Solitude, I, in my research, have looked up the term magical realism, which plays a large role in this novel. I'm not sure I entirely grasp the concept-- though I liken it to the technique in Scrubs. Perhaps it's because such things, especially in literature, never seem to strike me as odd or difficult or anything apart from reality. So to categorize it muddies my understanding of its sequellas.

And I am serious: if I should run into a unicorn while on walk, I would not be the least bit surprised. If a lamppost should turn into an elephant, I would not be surprised. If both daylight and night grow longer but the day length remains the same, I would not be surprised.

Suppose for a second that a reality television producer, fresh of his latest success of putting 6 animals (lion, zebra, fly, monkey, dog, cat) and 3 Hot People in a house for 10 weeks and allowing America to vote each one off based on a serious of challenges that involves, but is not limited to, surviving, decides to further push the limits. He or she pitches the concept of magical realism in this fashion. Assembled would be Chewbacca, Frodo, a Gummi Bear, Captain Kirk, Hari Seldon, and three randomly selected Americans who are extremely good-looking and who also think they can dance. Let the mayhem ensue!

Magical Reality T.V. : One Ring, In a Galaxy Far, Far Away, Bouncing Here and There And Everywhere, Boldly Going Where No Man Has Gone Before, uh Who's Hari Seldon? And The Hottest Contests Ever To Be See Dancing On T.V.! This Thursday @ 9pm.

Garcia Marquez would be proud.

Twenty-One, Some 50 Years Later

In lieu of my dirge on How To Read A Book, I stumbled across a piece by one of its authors, Charles Van Doren. His personage, ever since I saw Redford's "Quiz Show", has fascinated me. I am persuaded that it wasn't the pursuit of fame or greed that brought on his fall. But it was something in him, and for that he sought to make it right. I am always glad I convinced my father to rent that movie years ago.

Anyway, he penned a piece for The New Yorker recently about the saga. Can't say life has changed much with the infusion of reality television. It's greatest loss, however, has been the person of character.

We Had A Deal

I fully recognize the man's contribution to American Television. Jeopardy. Wheel of Fortune. But Merv Griffin was the man who gave Seinfield this gem.

On Life Without A T.V.

For the past three and a half weeks we've been without a television set. It's being "fixed" -- but not in the Bob Barker sense-- because of a loud hum that annoys everyone in the Greater Columbus area. And there are downsides to not having a television. But we've managed despite these negative qualities.

My uncle, as I was growing up, never had a T.V.. And this was before the Internet. I never thought one, especially me, could manage. But a person can. I remember thinking people without cable were weird, too. But I've been without cable for 4 of the last 5 years and gotten along just fine. I'll admit I'd go crazy if it weren't baseball season because I can watch the Red Sox via the Internet and faithfully do every night. And I also watch the occasional movie on the computer.

Life slows down a little when you don't have a T.V.. No more are your days timed in 30 minute increments and commercial breaks. When it's eight o'clock it's eight o'clock. It's not time for My Name is Earl or How I Met Your Mother. Afternoons are filled, not with reruns and news, but with coffee and books and playing with my son. Early evenings are occupied with walks at sunset to pet stores and for ice cream and along riverbanks. And mornings, especially Saturday mornings, are filled with full breakfasts and short naps.

Sometimes life gets a little too slow and you wish you could just kick back for 30 minutes. Because of that I do look forward to the return of my T.V. -- especially because I can watch sports on the weekends which I miss most of all. But I've learned life doesn't give itself to you to be spent going the bathroom during commercial breaks. And that Isaac doesn't laugh because there's a sitcom on. And that the NBA playoffs aren't really worth the time (except for when Golden State's playing).

Life is about moving pictures and entertainment -- only it's going on all around and shouldn't be confined to my 30-inch wide screen. I always knew this. But it's nice to be reminded once and awhile.

The Tyranny Of American Idol

I detest this show. I've never watched it through a full season and I have no intention ever to. It's the dumbest show on television. But, this season, the Mrs. is enjoying it to the point where she wants to watch it. And she's pregnant. So, she gets what she wants. Meaning I've had to sit through more than a few episodes. And, truthfully, I try hard to be either out of the house or out of the room when it's on. I detest this show.

But since I've been watching an episode here or there (6 total I believe, including 3 results shows), I've formed an even stronger opinion. Especially after last night. I've always found the fact that there are website urging viewers to vote for the worst of the competitors amusing. A way to buck the system. To prove the show is flawed and stupid. It's still funny that this works, as it clearly did last night when Sundance lost to the guy with Farrah Fawcett hair. Obviously, this show is a popularity contest, not one based on actual talent (of which about 4 of the singers can actually sing).

Another favorite is the fact that the judges are always stunned by the results. Always gets me. And for all the ripping Simon takes, he's just about always right with his criticism. Randy and Paula are fools.

Still even more amusing is the actual talent. Again, very few of them can actually sing. I can't sing. I've come to terms with this. As the saying goes, it takes one to know one, it takes someone who continually sings off key to know when someone else is off key. Most of the singers are usually flat -- just a tad bit off. But Randy and Paula sing their praises -- ironically --and are just as off key as the actual singers. And Simon chastises them and everyone boos. It's the dumbest show on television. And don't throw numbers at me. Don't tell me that America disagrees. America's stupid.

Meanwhile fantastic shows like Arrested Development, Studio 60, SportsNight and Scrubs get canned or buried in midseason time slots because they can't find an audience (Would I even want this audience anyway?).

This is what is meant by Mills' "tyranny of the majority" and Plato's "just because they are the majority does not make them right".

60 86ed?

Turns out my favorite show on TV is probably getting the axe. It's unfortunate. Studio 60 is a well-written, intelligent show. I've blogged about this before. What's frustrating are the criticisms surrounding the show and its impending demise.

Many harp on the fact that it's a behind-the-scenes look at a sketch comedy show, like SNL. That America isn't really interested in the inner-workings of a late night comedy show and shouldn't really be. Other prevarications focus on the way the characters speak, that people don't really talk like they appear to in the show. That writers really don't know that much philosophy and literature and history. Still more find fault with the "romances" on the show -- that there are too many of them. Or that the show's too much like the West Wing and it's too close to when WW went off the air.

All these criticisms are silly. America doesn't care about a hollywood sketch comedy show? But America should care about Supernanny or Wife Swap? Really? Or that characters speak intelligently? God forbid we all speak stupid. Or that romances are a crutch and weak plot device? Yeah and sex as a plot device hasn't gotten old or become the easy joke. It's nice to see characters woo each other. Oh, and that people are intelligent. Sometimes there are more things to decide upon in life than whether to take the deal or not. There are actually books to read. And my favorite: it's a show too much like West Wing and because that show ended people need some time between shows that are similar. First, Sorkin left the West Wing in 2004. After that it sucked. Everyone knows this but forgets it changed completely in style. So it's been 2 years, not 2 months since the West Wing ended. Second, no one complains that Fox and ABC have the same nanny show -- that it's too close.

The problem is, and if people would realize it I'd be okay with it's cancellation, that the show's to smart for a vacuous America and that the consumer-driven, plot-thinned shows they keep turning out are just easier to watch. What's funny is that the show dealt with this possibility in earlier episodes. And no critique of the show I've read has mentioned that. That the show new from the beginning it would be a little bit on the erudite side of words.

Studio 60 isn't an easy show to watch. I'll admit, sometimes the writing isn't as good as I'd like. Sometimes it settles. But it's still better than every single show on TV.