thepopculturelife

As a self-professed slave to the box, there are legitimate moments when I just have to stop and say to myself “God I love Television”. But when it comes right down to it, God has nothing to do with it; the only decent thing he’s ever had a producing credit on was Saving Grace and even he didn’t have enough star power to keep it on the air. No, the people who are truly responsible for my cries to the heaven are crazy geniuses like Joss Whedon, Aaron Sorkin, Ryan Murphy, Alan Ball, Josh Schwartz, and surprisingly to no one more than myself, and as I found out in this weeks lecture (Morris 2013); Matthew Weiner, creator of AMCs period drama Mad Men.

When I first sat down to watch Mad Men I didn’t really ‘get it’. I could see what it was doing and I could respect it but I just wasn’t the biggest fan. To date I’ve waded through the first three seasons, still waiting for that moment to get me hooked. It was an absolute shock to me then that it seemed I must have been texting when that moment happened. Because it happened in the shows very first episode. Check out the moment (also cited in Morris 2013) I’m talking about below:

Even if you’ve never seen the show, this moment is truly and utterly beguiling. This is the moment that had me stop and say “God I love television” and I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. The reason why I never fell in love with the show was because it always stressed the episode more than the season. There were arcs to keep me intrigued but nothing that said “you must watch next week or you will hate yourself”. But what happened here was a moment outside of complex narrative and series-long arcs. This was a moment that needed no introduction and still had me stop and say “God that was awesome”. I consider the show to be the storytelling cousin to fellow AMC drama Breaking Bad, which just completed what I believe to be a perfect run. This is a show that’s very premise was to detail the transformation of Mr. Chips into Scarface. A five-season epic that chronicled one mans journey from one thing to another. Bad never stressed the episode, it was always looking at the bigger picture, and this is something that I don’t think has ever been done quite as well, or will be for quite some time. Men on the other hand, and I get this more than ever now, is the gold standard for episodic narratives. Where Bad was reinventing what television could set out to do, Men has seemingly reinvented what its capable of in its purest form.

But ultimately, when there are so many examples of what we can deem great television, and mode of storytelling isn’t what makes them so special, just what is it that separates them from the pack? When we talk about the shows that paved the way for more complex dramas to appear on our screens, it almost always comes back to David Chases’ The Sopranos (which Weiner served on as an Executive Producer and wrote many episodes for). But just how did the poster-show for the mantra “Its Not TV. Its HBO” lead to a revolution across not just premium cable, but also basic cable and primetime network TV? Well, it’s all about the characters. If we forget about the distinction between long-form complex narrative and isolated episodic stories, there’s only got to be one great thing to get us to tune in. And that’s our favorite hero’s, anti-heroes… and yes, even villains showing up every week to do the thing we love to watch ‘em do. Tony Soprano led to Vic Mackey. Vic Mackey led to Jack Bauer. Jack Bauer to Walter White. And Walter White, well, he… I’m sorry, it’s still too soon.

I absolutely feel that I’ve been misjudging Mad Men all these years and I’m truly sorry about not giving it a fighting chance. The show it seems, like Don Draper himself is described, “isn’t what he seems under that polished surface. He’s as flawed and complicated and fascinating as any other great character of this period and he… masterfully explores the difference between perception and reality” (Sepinwall 2012, pp.301-302)

I believe Vic Mackey, corrupt and immoral anti-hero of FX’s The Shield says it best here…

… And I’ve gotta say, I don’t miss them at all.

References:

lucidmedia1, 2010, Don Draper’s best quote, Online Video, 10 November, Available from:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjg5TuXV09U, Accessed: 23 October 2013

Morris, B 2013, Week 9 – The Dispersal of Complex Narrative, PowerPoint Slides, RMIT University, Melbourne

Sepinwall, A 2012, The Revolution was Televised: The Cops, Crooks, Slingers and Slayers that changed TV drama forever, Kindle Edition, Self-published, eBook

xbfir3x, 2010, A Different Kind of Cop, Online Video, 01 December. Available from:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ixeh-uf9KQw, Accessed: 23 October 2013

Ok, I have a confession to make. I did not enjoy Treme. In fact I hated it. And no it wasn’t just because I had no idea what was going on the entire time… Alright, it was mostly because I had no idea what was going on the entire time; I was frustrated, I was bored, and I was angry at myself for being frustrated and bored. So the question I ask is, was it my fault? Or show creator David Simons?

Long-form narrative in television is probably the best thing to ever happen to the small screen since Betty White (how awesome is Betty White!?). But omigod is it a dangerous game to be playing. I don’t watch television conventionally. Most of the time I’ll sit down to a new show after impulsively buying the box-set and I’ll scrutinize it from the ground up. I’ll remember every plotline, I’ll dissect every episode and I’ll follow the arc to its completion. So a show that has a good story to sink my teeth into is something I’m always up for. But for the majority of people out there, when NCIS is the most watched show in America, a long complex plot isn’t always what the doctor ordered (my doctor loves The Mentalist). And what I experienced in this weeks screening of “I’ll Fly Away” Treme’s season one finale (cited in Morris 2013), is something I believe most people would also experience as a first time viewer. But it was still something I didn’t really anticipate. I really really hated Treme. And this is something that poses an interesting dilemma. Is a show defined by its series long arc? Or should it be judged at face value after one episode?

Drawing comparison to Simons’ other work The Wire, something that I have seen, it’s fair to say that he doesn’t pander. Without even a ‘previously on’ bit to catch us up, it’s clear that he’s not making these shows to satisfy a ratings mandate, he’s simply telling us a story that’s best watched from the beginning – and you better pay attention. As a result, people don’t talk about these shows as something they tuned into for half an hour and so became hooked. No, these are the shows that when people discover them, they will say “I am ready to watch The Wire” and thus commit to forsaking the real-world for the closest thing to a novel you’ll ever see committed to film. But does it really work as television? As something built to be consumed in 60-minute chunks? TV critic Alan Sepinwall, on the open-ended and unconventional nature of the pilot writes, “television in 2002 simply didn’t work this way – even the ambitious HBO kind of television… [Oz and The Sopranos] at least gave you a clear sense of the major players, and they provided some stories that had a beginning, middle, and end within the confines of that hour” (2012, pp.70-71). And I have to agree that there’s a fine line between a well-executed narrative, and a self-important writer who doesn’t respect the medium he’s in.

Because ultimately, television isn’t pitched to be a cult hit on DVD (sorry Firefly), it’s pitched to be able to invite new viewers and enthrall existing ones week-to-week and episode-to-episode. And this is where I find a big problem with Treme. I could care less what happens to these people. I don’t know where they’re coming from and I don’t feel the need to know where they’re going. Is it my job to care though? Or Simons job to make me care? Personally, and this is grand-sweeping statement time, I think that there should be something in every episode of every show that prompts a first time viewer to jump in. I don’t mean that a show should give up its message to satisfy newcomers, but that a shows creator can look at any episode and point to a moment and say “that’s it, that’s why you should watch”. But unfortunately, neither The Wire nor Treme apparently, manages to accomplish this in every hour they serve up.

Regardless of where I think they can try harder though, both The Wire and Treme do attempt something that I wholeheartedly support. I’m a big fan of the slow burn and look no further than Breaking Bad for a great example of when a show can be all the hotter for it. But I truly believe that David Simons needs to be sat down and told what is acceptable and not acceptable for a television series. And for me to be left wondering why I wasted an hour of my life, with the realisation that I clearly just skipped to the last chapter in a book. Well that’s not the point of TV, and I don’t see the point in pandering to a TV series that won’t acknowledge that long-form narrative is a two way street… And that most people are taking the bus.

Reference:

Morris, B 2013, Week 8 – The Poetics of Complex Narrative, PowerPoint Slides, RMIT University, Melbourne

Sepinwall, A 2012, The Revolution was Televised: The Cops, Crooks, Slingers and Slayers that changed TV drama forever, Kindle Edition, Self-published, eBook

Walter White. Don Draper. Tony Soprano. Nate Fisher. Vic Mackey. Christian Troy. Dexter Morgan. Carrie Bradshaw. Hannah Horvath. All uncompromising examples of what quality television has given us over the past decade…
What? What’s wrong?…
What did I say?…
Oh I used that word didn’t I?

Quality. It’s a funny little word. In any other discussion we would use it to describe something as being better. In television we use it to describe a genre. And if we hadn’t had cable networks start branding themselves with this term, it might still actually mean something. On July 12th 1997, HBO was the first to kick off a new era of scripted television, for this was the day it debuted Oz. Chris Albrecht, the then president of HBO original programming said that “It was the first thing we had seen for premium television that was a true dramatic series… it was startling how much different it felt from anything else on television” (cited in Sepinwall 2012, pp.271). The word he was looking for to describe it? You guessed it ladies and gentleman, it’s ‘quality’. However, while I don’t dispute the awesomeness that is Oz, as HBO went onto forge a name for themselves as the leader of the quality pack with shows like Six Feet Under and The Sopranos, they also started a dangerous precedent. This being that while all these shows had very little in common with regards to the stories they told, they were all being labeled as the same thing. As more and more series’ started popping up like The Shield and Nip/Tuck, we were again told that this was ‘quality’ because it was something that we hadn’t had before. But now that we can stack them up against each other and ask which one was better. Which of the quality’s is of better quality? We kind of have to admit that we’ve made a horrible mistake.

People who watched HBO ten years ago were watching for series’ like Oz, Six Feet Under and The Sopranos. Television that truly raised the bar for the kind of ‘quality’ stories we could see on our little black box. These were shows that had stories to tell and were allowed to do it because they didn’t have advertisers to worry about offending, and the sex and the violence was part of the package, not the premise. However, people watching HBO now are watching it for shows like True Blood, Game of Thrones and Girls. I’m not hating on this new generation, I do honestly believe that Hannah Horvath has more interesting things to say than Carrie Bradshaw, but the term quality, now synonymous with anything HBO puts out, has also become synonymous with the sex, violence and nudity that it allows. Does a nipslip mean better production values? Does a sword to the neck mean better writing? And does a close up of an “O” face mean better directing? These should be the deciding factors of quality, and not how many breasts we can fit into half an hour (sorry, Lena).

Unfortunately, it’s probably too late to take back the night and give quality its dignity back. And to even have a fair discussion about it would be unlikely because let’s face it, a discussion of quality when talking about television series is rarely a discussion among equals…

In fact, it’s usually a discussion between two high horses… that are facing opposite directions… and from different countries… oh and look, one of them just shot themselves in the foot.

References:

Sepinwall, A 2012, The Revolution was Televised: The Cops, Crooks, Slingers and Slayers that changed TV drama forever, Kindle Edition, Self-published, eBook

It’s not easy being a TV series anymore. Why? Because an audience is a fickle mistress. She’ll think you owe her something just because she’s read the book you’re based on. She’ll think she’s smarter than you just because she’s seen The Wire. She’ll think she’s better than you because she’ll say its your job to entertain her, not her job to understand you, and ultimately she’ll think she doesn’t need you because NCIS is on in half an hour.

So why bother? Well because sometimes you might just find the one. The one who will send over 20 tons of nuts to CBS headquarters to keep you on the air for just seven more episodes (Jericho), the one who will pay over $5 million out of their own pocket to see you reach the big screen (Veronica Mars), the one who will form conventions and reunions and follow your universe into comic books, video games and novels long after you’re dead (every single Joss Whedon show) and as seen in the lecture (Morris 2013), the one who will lose their job, blow off their friends and harass complete strangers all in the hope of just seeing one more episode. Every TV series needs their soul mate, their fan-base who will stick with them through thick and thin. The fan-base that will only be disappointed in a misplaced plotline or character arc because they know how much better it can be. They will not turn away or switch off, they will be supportive and hopefully see their baby grow into the behemoth and cultural phenomenon that they know it can be.

What better example to discuss then than HBOs True Blood, the most shamelessly ridiculous show that year after year keeps getting sillier but continues to draw some of HBOs biggest ratings and most loyal fans. I’ve been with the show since it started, and I’m still here six years later on the hook for some of the most ludicrous television I’ve ever seen. So why am I still here? To answer this we have to first ask why I started watching it in the first place. Once upon a time, back in 2008 when I was far too young to be watching it, I tuned into the pilot and witnessed the start of something. I didn’t really know what it was but there was an interesting premise, cool characters, gorgeous cinematography, epic violence and a lot, and I mean a lot of sex. Basically I was hooked. Over the years, I believed it to be suspenseful, surprising and really top-notch TV and week after week for 12 weeks every year I would keep coming back for more. This is the True Blood experience that its fan-base enjoys.

However, watching the episode “I Will Rise Up” this week from Season 2 (cited in Morris 2013), I’ve just now realized how biased this experience is. Out of context and out of sync with the big picture that the season was drawing, I could finally see True Blood for what it really is. I’ve always enjoyed the show with a grain of salt, and as a self-confessed Truebie i’m not blind to its flaws. But when watching an episode at random, and the arc-based narrative goggles are off, oh my god is this show stupid. For a newcomer to the show to watch this episode and to have to follow a plot thread where “Meanwhile across town, Jessica and Hoyt are dealing with the fallout of realizing that as an immortal virgin she has a regenerative hymen” (I mean really? this is quality television?), it must seem like an outlandish piece of trash. As fans, we can simply just forgive and forget (I know I did), and idealise the journey we’ve been on.

True Blood is a heightened experience, everything is over the top and it doesn’t apologize for it. As a fan who’s been watching since the pilot I can still harken back to the interesting premise, the cool characters and the sleek look, and to date it remains the top dog in the “southern gothic-fantasy-horror-romance-comedy-drama” hybrid genre. But the secret to its success I think, doesn’t lie in its separate parts, but in its evolution from interesting premise to outlandish execution without losing anyone along the way.

References:

Morris, B 2013, Week 6 – Matters of Taste, PowerPoint Slides, RMIT University, Melbourne

So apparently the golden age of television is upon us. I really wish someone had told me and I would have tivo’d it. Was it on a monday night at 7:30 that the golden age of television happened? What about the silver age? or the bronze age? and can I just ask where we’re drawing these lines? The medium has certainly undergone structural changes over the past 10 years, no doubt, but does a different kind of entertainment necessarily mean a better one?

From the way the screening of Hollywood: The Rise of Television Series (cited in Morris 2013) discussed television in the new century, it implied that all of a sudden TV had become something more than what it had previously been capable of. It had begun telling stories that mere episodes weren’t capable of doing justice to as entire seasons had started to be far more cohesive.  As a result, people aren’t tuning into a show to watch episodes anymore, they’re tuning into the entire series. Personally, I didn’t realise that this shift had taken place until it was too late. My engagement with television was initially with reruns that were watched out of context. But this didn’t stop me from enjoying the hell out of shows like Moonlighting, Lois & Clark, and Friends without knowing what the series arc was. This is what television used to be capable of, mindless entertainment that you could take or leave without needing anything more to appreciate it. But when I started watching TV like Buffy the Vampire Slayer I could no longer simply tune into scheduled programming on a whim, I now had to schedule my life around my favourite shows. While Buffy might not be the best example of long-form narrative, (at the age of 11, The Sopranos was a little bit beyond me), even I could tell that I wasn’t coming back for just the next episode, I was just never leaving as there was no way I could simply turn the box off and forget about where these characters and stories were heading.

This it seems is where the newfound “golden age” can set itself apart. Television today is addictive, an episode can’t just be watched and forgotten about and DVD releases and online access mean that getting into series’ from the ground up is easier than ever. However, it also means that television is no longer meant to be experienced the way that it used to be. Stories are still defining what we tune into week in and week out but it’s no longer a question of “what crazy adventures will the gang get into this week?” but instead “how has the previous episodes events taken their toll on our troubled hero?”.  Now, is this really a better form of storytelling? Is it even television as television was defined in its inception?

As made evident in the screening, big names, big budgets, high energy and high patience for long-form narrative has meant a drastic overhaul in what people have come to expect from entertainment. But this is not a  story of one day everything changed and we entered a brave new world. No, this has been a long and stretched out evolution over the course of many shows that just kept raising the bar a little bit higher for what people could expect from their little black box.

In his book titled The Revolution was Televised: The Cops, Crooks, Slingers and Slayers that changed TV drama forever (2012), Alan Sepinwall singles out 12 series that are indicative of the supposed new age of television; The Sopranos. Oz. The Wire. Deadwood. The Shield. Lost. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. 24. Battlestar Galactica. Friday Night Lights. Mad Men. Breaking Bad. What he does not do however is discuss them as if they are of an inherent better quality than those that came before it. In fact, he discusses this idea of the ‘golden age’ of television as something that we have perhaps already moved away from and forgotten about. The golden age was a time of episodic television that did not require anything of its audience, it was an easy and simple time. Now our shows demand attention and respect for the boundaries they push and the stories they tell, as they constantly go further than any that have come before. We are indeed in a new era, but to call it a golden age is, I think, to miss the point entirely.

References

Morris, B 2013, Week 1: Introduction to TV Cultures, PowerPoint Slides, RMIT University, Melbourne

Sepinwall, A 2012, The Revolution was Televised: The Cops, Crooks, Slingers and Slayers that changed TV drama forever, Kindle Edition, Self-published, eBook