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THE
MAIL ON SUNDAY |
Copyright
2005 Associated Newspapers Ltd. |
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I said as nonchalantly as I could, 'I don't watch television.' Jaws dropped in disbelief. It seemed I had misjudged the mood among my new acquaintances and had inadvertently tripped up over the subject of TV. It was one thing to differ on favourite aspects of a medium (you like rap, I like pop; we like music) but how could I ignore a whole window into our culture? That seemed to my new-found friends to be completely absurd. It's not that I refuse to watch TV as a matter of principle, just that I don't watch it often. This may be the result of rationed viewing at boarding school, or four years abroad in a time warp away from all popular British shows. More likely, it's the mass of mindless programmes worldwide that has turned me off this popular addiction. Reality TV is completely beyond me. Why watch a person sleep on screen? In any case how real is a home (or deserted an island) half-stocked with cameramen? The prevalence of reality-TV shows demonstrates its popularity. But has our imagination crumpled to such a degree that we're happy just tracking domestic human activity? You'd think we'd never known it before. And I don't buy the postmodern psychological/ sociologicalinterest excuse. As far as I'm concerned, reality TV mirrors whatever we do in the ad breaks, be it squabbling or going to the loo. It's a trick to make us feel like we're filling our time instead of doing nothing. The only variation in reality TV is the differing scenarios and levels of hardship with which these tiresome souls must deal, and the subsequent levels of fame and fortune that follow. Whether a spouse is raising someone else's family in Wife Swap or sussing out strangers in Big Brother, the banality of the tantrums, tears and tiffs remains the same. Can we no longer be bothered to discover anything new? When I was little, things were very different. Quite apart from an absence of reality TV, the Teletubbies didn't even exist. Instead, we watched Postman Pat, Noddy, Sesame Street and endless Jim Henson creations. Muppets may have weird voices, but at least they actually talk. They informed us frankly about day-today life, and always got us listening. What's more, learning numbers from a mustard-coloured bird was the perfect mix of sense and fantasy. When I was nine I started boarding school, where TV was rationed to weekends. Fluffy movies such as Babe were watched in the common room. Occasionally we might be so lucky as to see half an episode of Blind Date. Matron would administer the start of the viewing process, assuming that only she could man the box. She'd then hover in the darkness behind an armchair ready to snuff out any attempt to flick channels. We loved watching Oprah Winfrey, catching couples discussing their problems, just as we loved to read the agony columns of magazines. Their dilemmas fascinated us mainly because they helped us justify to ourselves why none of us had boyfriends. 'This guy slept with his daughter? That guy wants to be a woman?' We'd giggle at struggling couples with relish until Matron woke up and grabbed back the remote. TV in my preteens was not easy. As a result of being out of the TV habit during term-time, in the holidays I didn't hurry to make changes. Television was confined to noisy kitchen dinners, when a nature documentary would dominate the scene, full of fighting males and sloppy births. 'It's just nature, kiddos,' my mother would explain as we struggled with our semolina. Other than these documentaries and news sweeps, home viewing was really pretty sparse. At my second boarding school, the TV policy was easier. On Wednesdays our classes ended two hours earlier than usual, so the school took it upon itself to call them 'half-days'. After 4pm, the TV would be switched on, and it was this teatime slot that revealed to me all the Aussie high-school soaps and sitcoms that came to mean freedom. Talk revolved endlessly around Drazic the eyebrow-studded hunk of Heartbreak High or tousled Shane in Home and Away. No doubt because there were no boys at our school, and few ever permitted in the vicinity, the Drazics and Shanes of our world were especially appealing and hard to neglect. There was also My So-Called Life with Jared Leto and Claire Danes, whom we loved for making high school so cool. Cocoa-powder toasties in hand, we made our way to groaning bean bags and shushed each late arrival. When TV couples snogged there'd be an outcry; when someone died there were tears. We bonded through our telly gatherings. When TV was permitted every evening in the sixth form, we watched the same cool kids in miniskirts and ties the only difference being that we now mimicked their accents and said we thought they were 'sad'. But in the sixth form there still weren't any boys. My college years in the US offered a TV range from the dire to the good. In the land where reality TV thrives, many friends of mine were lost to horrors such as Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?, Joe Millionaire and The Apprentice. I reached a true TV low point when one day I happened upon The Anna Nicole Show. This consisted of millionaire widow Anna Nicole Smith being filmed shopping and whining. As though Anna Nicole's diary isn't drab enough there's always the voice. I'm not aware of her having a speech impediment but she will talk in mono-slur, which did my head in. To be fair, with a galaxy of channels, as there is in the US, there are some great highs, for all the lows. What I did love was comedy nothing beats Saturday Night Live with early supercomic appearances by entertainers such as Eddie Murphy and Chevy Chase. I also loved NBC's Today Show and the satirical The Late Night Show, which doubled up as the best sources for news, and whose host, Conan O'Brien, I sorely miss. Sadly, Conan can't be accommodated on our home troglodyte TV. Yup, we have that dear old kind with, allegedly, five channels only all of them seem to be spooked with ghosting and sporadic sparks. Instead of grappling with the TV, or waiting for its next electric fit, I tend to find alternatives like games, books and the theatre. As far as spending time with friends is concerned, I'd rather chat, even sing, than watch a screen. I'm not big on the shows that everyone watches together. Like song lyrics, I think that good TV demands its audience's full attention. You can always discuss a programme later with friends there's no need to endure running commentaries. However, unlike listening to music, you can't watch TV on the move, and planning to sit alone is unappealing. I don't think I'm alone in my indifference. Perhaps it is a generational thing. In childhood, TV brings fantasy as a relief from endless discipline, while in our teens and preteens, TV suggests the glories of adulthood while playing down realities we'd rather forget. Until adulthood, it seems television has a role but what's it keeping back from me now? Some concerned friends recommended a number of British programmes for me to sample. The first of these didn't excite me wildly; dated ideas in Little Britain and the mouldering Ali G. But I have to say that catching up on shows such as EastEnders has been extremely satisfying. As for Phoenix Nights, of which I'd never even heard, I can't remember being so glued to the screen. Who could resist a man like Brian Potter, who drinks his pint from a vase? I gobbled both series down in single sessions, interrupted only by my howls of laughter. Watching it alone is definitely a good gauge for comedy, too unless it's really worth it, you feel weird laughing out loud. I'm also feeling smug for having tracked Blackpool from the start, which I don't think I have ever done before with any programme. You've got to love that treacly style. Apart from being a persuasive new TV discovery it's also made me re-evaluate my loathing of musicals. Having caused such a shock with my lack of passion for the small screen, I have since made enquiries among acquaintances as to their habits. Several friends say TV means as little to them as it does to me. That may be because nine hours in front of a computer makes a screen-less evening more attractive, or because TV these days just isn't the break it once was. Recommendations are welcome though.
I will watch TV so long as I'm convinced it will be worth it. Otherwise,
I'll continue to give it a miss. |
