Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 17, 2016

American Success Stories

Although you're seeing this post sometime in August, I'm in the past, writing it on July 4, 2016, some 240 years after the signing of the Declaration of Independence. I mention this fact because it has a direct bearing on what you're about to read.

Earlier today, I had my iPod on shuffle, and Desi Arnaz's "Babalu" started playing. I'm a fan of I Love Lucy, and, having seen the entire series several times through, I can't help but know a few of Arnaz's more famous tunes, including this quintessential one. The song itself, though, isn't what interests me right now. Rather, Arnaz himself does.

He was what I consider to be an American success story. Born to a prominent family inn Cuba but thrust unexpectedly into straitened circumstances during a revolution, he found himself in Miama as a youth and then took up the business of entertainment. He of course met and married Lucille Ball a few years later, and the rest--as they say--is history. Everyone in America must know his name, or at least his face, by now. Not so bad for an immigrant, a non-native English speaker, and a man who dared to marry a white girl and (gasp!) flaunt their relationship on national television.

Thinking of Arnaz leads me to Richard Blanco, another Cuban making his way in America in another, but still contentious, time. Blanco was born in Spain and brought to America by parents who, like the Arnaz family, were fleeing political issues. A civil engineer and writer by training, Blanco was selected to recite a poem at the 2013 presidential inauguration (Barack Obama's second time swearing in). This was an excellent choice for several reasons: not only did Blanco give a flawless reading of his "One Today," but he also represented the changing face of America. For Blanco is an immigrant, yes, and a Latino, but also a gay man. This was a truly monumental moment, and again, I consider Blanco to be an American success story.

In keeping with the artistic bent of these musings so far, I turn to Lin-Manuel Miranda, the nearly inescapable face of Broadway in 2016. While born in America, Miranda comes from Puerto Rican stock. And he is a man who has done a few things all at once: brought attention to musical theater, triggered discussions about American history among people who might not otherwise find it an interesting topic, and dedicated his stage to the showcasing of non-white talent. Moreover, he has gotten away with all of these things through a combination of talent and commitment, which are rare enough personality traits in the public sphere nowadays. What could make his American success story more successful? Maybe only getting his face on a Wheaties box.

You've surely noticed a trend here: each of these men is Latino.

I believe in inclusion. American culture overwhelmingly privileges white people and can be ridiculously appropriative, and diversity of any kind often seems to be an impossible dream. But the United States would not be what it is today without the contributions of people from every racial, ethnic, and sexuality-based background. Unfortunately, for each person calling for a wider variety of viewpoints and a higher level of tolerance or activism, we hear another voice full of vitriol and anger, blaming non-whites--and particularly immigrants--for the perceived woes of our society.

This is unacceptable to me. And it should be unacceptable to you as well. This is America. It's meant to be the land of the free. So why are we, as a nation, working so hard to suppress diversity? We need the white people, the brown people, the black people, the blue people, the gay people, the straight people, the Christians and Jews and Muslims and Democrats and Republicans and even the anarchists, probably. Because we the people are all people, supposedly born equal (or made so as immigrants) under the law.

I've only given three examples here, but there are countless more worth researching and promoting. Those breaking down barriers, crossing lines that represented certain death in the past, marching in order to make themselves and their brethren heard, speaking out when the opportunity presents itself, fighting for what they believe is right, working to recover what was taken from them.

In the event that you haven't looked at a calendar recently, I would like to remind you that it is 2016. And it is long past time to let everyone be heard, respected, and included, and I cannot stress that enough.

-Cate-

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

The Limits of Nostalgia

In the past year or so, there has been a rash of pop-culture nostalgia infiltrating our screens--both large and small. Four examples that come to mind quickly are Ghostbusters, Girl Meets World, Fuller House, and the Star Wars franchise (which is, admittedly, more of a perpetual thing). Although we have yet to see what Paul Feig will make of his all-female Ghostbusters reboot, there have been mixed responses to the other examples given here.

Anecdata seems to indicate that Girl Meets World is a hit among fans of its (literal) parent show, Boy Meets World, which ran from 1993-2000, and reviews from the series pilot reflect this, even if the viewers ache for the original series. The Force Awakens is widely beloved, with a 93% fresh rating from Rotten Tomatoes, and is approaching the billion-dollar mark in gross profit. Fuller House, meanwhile, is a different story.

Initial reactions have not been positive. CNN refers to it as a show that "recaptures the magic of the original" (Full House, 1987-1995) "if you remember that Voldemort practiced magic, too." Entertainment Weekly, meanwhile, gives it a C-minus, calling it "lazily constructed kitsch." 

What is the difference between these projects? What makes one piece of our pop-culture history ripe for reworking but another fail miserably? Maybe the people involved. Maybe the premise. Maybe the expectations of the fans. Or perhaps it's that we have hit the point where we are saturated with nostalgia. From the odd '90s fangirling on Tumblr to the woman who lives as though she's in the Victorian era, we as consumers find ourselves inundated with images from the past, and it's easy to get fed up with revisiting past events and phenomena. 

So remember this next time you start to consume this particular brand of entertainment. If it doesn't feel right to you, it means the project has hit a nostalgia wall and it's time to move into the present, or perhaps even the future.

-Cate-

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Rob Petrie Is My Spirit Animal

Last weekend, I ate an entire box of Lucky Charms in about twenty-four hours, because that's the kind of thing I do when I don't feel good. While I did this, I sat on my couch and watched The Dick Van Dyke Show on a continuous loop on Netflix, stopping only to chat with friends on Facebook and throw some laundry in. It wasn't a sensible way to spend my Saturday, but it did make me feel better.

See, the Lucky Charms were delicious and all, but it was my time with Dick Van Dyke that brightened me up. For those of you who are unfortunate enough to be uninitiated, the show is about Rob Petrie, who works as the head writer of a comedy sketch show. The bulk of the episodes deal with Rob's domestic life or relationship with his coworkers. But there are plenty of moments where we get to see him at work, trying his best to finish a joke or script.

It's not that these situations are the funniest or most intriguing, but as someone who often struggles to write, it's nice to know that even fictional writers feel my pain. Because it can be difficult to muddle through, or to get started in the first place. Watching someone do this--what I do every day--on the screen is somewhat cathartic, I think, and decidedly nicer than laughing at the pain of ACTUAL people. 

In that sense, I suppose Rob Petrie is one of my spirit animals. Better him than some other fictional writer. For example, this guy. Am I right?

-Cate-