Posted by
Bob Atchisson on Tuesday, November 20, 2007 12:16:39 PM
As the Writer's Guild strike enters its third week and the trades are replete with threats of numerous shows halting production and stories about films delaying their shoots, an interesting thing seems to be happening: no one really cares.
There is the usual chorus of pro-labor sycophants decrying their share of the entertainment money pie. There is the Hollywood apparatchik dutifully harmonizing with their comrades-in-arms. There is even the odd "It's hard to feel sorry for a millionaire on the picket line" aria. But what is missing is the outrage or basic interest even, of the average audience member.
I suppose it is possible that the full impact of what is currently happening has not hit everyone yet. Maybe they don't realize that the next few weeks could be their last opportunity to hear new crass comments interlaced with sexual innuendo in the family hour on all of the major networks. Maybe they have yet to understand that the next Dan Brown attack on the traditional religious establishment will have to wait awhile before it denigrates an entire segment of the American populace and those values they hold dear. And I bet they haven't a clue that soon their reality TV thirst will leave them satiated with a deluge of When Democrats Attack Animals and other variations of a theme as the 2nd TV season merges unceremoniously with the next election cycle. And don't get me started on Jack Bauer's hiatus. The hours we normally have to wait until his next action-packed day look likely to surpass the 7 month mark originally planned.
But I think it is quite simply that we no longer care. We have been so steadily force fed a diet of righteous movie stars, drunk on their own celebrity and delusional about the extent of their own import or influence. We have been offered time and again heaping piles of anti-American vitriole on celluoid washed down by backhanded swipes at family values on the idiot box. The nutritional value of their combined efforts is roughly equivalent to an actual diet of soda and Oreos. It will eventaully make you sick and no one will ever want to see a cookie or soft drink again.
I think we have nearly reaached that stage. People are sick of it. And is that such a bad thing? I mean, with the exception of 24, how much of the usual TV pabulum or cinematic snuff films will we really miss?
I can only answer for myself, and as a child of the Television Age I am as surprised as anyone, after an uncompromising personal inventory, to discover the answer: not much. Football still has a few more months. Then there is hockey if I get desperate enough. Baseball is just months away. And, of course, the Super Bowl of politics is already in pre-game mode and promises debates, analysis, and commentary from common man and pundit alike for the better part of next year.
Then of course there is the stack of books I am perpetually barreling through like some literary Whack-a-Mile wherein the completion of one begets a new one of interest popping up on a book dealer's shelf.
Or I can spend the time talking with family and friends over coffee. We could discuss religion, politics, and a host of other topics that, while arguably the most important with which to contend, are usually banished to the rear in favor of more gentile conversational topics like ox scores, home improvements, or Brittney's meltdown.
I can even workout without sub-consciously trying to cut a set short so as not to miss David Caruso's opening monotone monologue on CSI:Miami.
The point is maybe I can reclaim my time and, most importantly, reset the parameters of how I spend it and under what conditions. Do I want to watch a "family friendly" show about a divorced dad, a lovable womanizing uncle, and the young child that lives with them as they discuss in thinly veiled banter topics ranging from masturbation to lesbianism? Do I want to spend my hard earned dollars to see my values or political beliefs attacked time and again in the multi-plex by West Coast celebu-scholars?
Even though I have been deliberately distancing myself from all things Hollywood for some time now, it took this strike to put a fine point on it. I can only hope that, as it currently appears, others feel the same; even if it means I have to jockey for position in the aisles at Barnes and Noble or wait an extra five minutes for a seat at Panera Bread. Seems like a small price to pay to reprioritize life and send an important message to the Hollywood powers that be to boot.