EPISODE 309: WHOSA WHOSA WHOSA
POP CULTURE SPIRIT WOW
Somewhere not far from here the guys I live with are celebrating Holy Thursday, which for the non-Catholics is the celebration of Jesus’ last supper and the washing of his disciples’ feet.
It’s the start of our High Holy Days, and I would be with them, but I’ve been felled by the plague that it sounds like everyone else got a couple months ago. #Blessed?
So I’ve set myself up in my room with ginger ale, lots of sugar free Ricola cough drops and way too much TV.
Speaking of which, quick question for the British mystery lovers out there: What if Sidney from Grantchester and Morse from Endeavour had a crossover? Who would be sadder? And would Amanda be the villain? Because she is clearly the actual villain of Grantchester.
Also, how many times can Lord Melbourne tell Victoria he doesn’t need her any more before the writers accept they have got to move on? And just how many babies is this poor woman going to have in one season? (I’m on episode five and we’re already at three.)
Sometimes watching British TV is like having a little vacation in your room. And sometimes it’s just medicinal. Either way, I’ll take it.
Switching to American TV, what was with the ending of Jessica Jones? I’ll say no more in case you haven’t watched it yet, but my god was it insane. Like Walter White shaving his head and saying I am the one who knocks insane. But all happening over the course of one season instead of a whole series.
Speaking of Breaking Bad, is America ever going to discover The Americans? Because it’s pretty much the Breaking Bad of right now, and as far as I can tell only the critics are watching it.
And just how much ginger ale can you drink before you need to have insulin shots every day? And does Nyqil really have to taste that way? But really, though?
Sorry. This is what you’re in for. I’m praying for you.
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U.S. Reporting: A Summary
So Roseanne came back. Maybe you heard; it’s a whole thing. “A honest look at working class white America”, say the critics –or America in general, depending on who’s writing it. (I really want everyone who’s saying this is the show about America right now to please also watch One Day at a Time.)
I never liked Roseanne. The main character always seemed pretty much just straight up mean. I did watch the episodes that aired this week – because sick. Honestly it just confirmed my feelings. Yeah there was stuff about current events and how to deal with having a grandson who is feminine in the way he dresses, but mostly it was an hour of people belittling each other. It was basically “But what if your family was Twitter?”
Maybe it’s good that in 2018 there’s a TV show for people who are working class and white and uncomfortable with things like a child being who they are even when it doesn’t fit the social norms – which is the main topic of the second episode. In a way the show’s message is, “You guys who feel left out or attacked by the stories or judgments of big city liberals, you’re okay, too. Your stories, your lives, your questions also have worth.”
But I don’t know. Everybody’s just so nasty to each other. Someone please do yoga or read a book.
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One thing worth checking out that’s somewhat related to Roseanne is this article about the value of the classic live audience sitcom today. For a long time they were the norm. Then they went away (and/or to CBS). Now there are a few more of them, like One Day at a Time on Netflix, Will and Grace on NBC or ABC’s Roseanne.
The point of the article is how this style of show, filmed in front of a life audience, have long been a place where America is able to see talk about real stuff. Somehow the live format seems to lend itself to conversations that are more of the moment and also real-life awkward, with comments or ways of saying things that come off less performed and more “what happens at family dinner”. And that that kind of conversation is what we need right now.
It’s a really interesting piece.
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And if you want other takes within the hemisphere of Roseanne, here’s a piece from The New Yorker about whether All in the Family actually did rally people to change their thinking on issues like race or sexuality. Emily Nussbaum finds it did for some; but others saw Archie Bunker as a hero, someone who reaffirmed their own prejudices.
And if you’re on Twitter, here’s a great thread on the problem of Roseanne, and a conversation by media people not from the coasts, suggesting a very different takeaway from the show.
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Actual sign for meeting with Archbishop of Canterbury,
the Anglican version of the Pope.
They're a bit more low-key.
The Pope reportedly said yesterday that there is no Hell. Of course he did not actually say that, it’s just social media being social media. You can’t blame it, it gets hungry for souls, poor dear.
I did a little Twitter on Hell in response. You know, like you do for Easter.
Part of me was poking the trolls, I admit it. This just seems like such a silly thing for Catholics to get worked up about. Let alone to want. Who doesn’t want the Pope to say, Hey, we’ve been thinking about it and this Hell thing, it just seems like more of what someone tells you to try and scare you into being good. And that’s not really Jesus is it?
Or at least, who doesn’t want the Pope talking about mercy rather than judgment at Easter?
But no, there was “outrage”. I tried to take some of it seriously (even though my hunch is anybody fighting for Hell probably thinks they’re not headed there themselves). And I got to tell once again my own favorite take on Hell, from The Great Divorce.
Speaking of which, here’s something fun for your holiday:
Top Five Pop Culture Visions of Hell (You Know, For Easter!)
5. Sunnydale High
Buffy the Vampire Slayer was built on this clever idea: What if high school actually was Hell? Joss Whedon imagined Sunnydale High as located on top of a Hellmouth from which emerged all kinds of nasty nastiness. And the strongest episodes were all about classic awful teenage experiences. (The heroine’s boyfriend literally becomes a soulless vampire the moment he sleeps with her. A show of genius.)
4. Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Edward Albee
I went through a bunch of different plays as possibilities; Waiting for Godot is clearly some kind of Hell or Purgatory meditation. No Exit is a meditation on how Hell is other people.
But neither of those plays really hits as hard as Virginia Woolf, the story of an academic and his wife who can’t help shredding one another and yet also don’t really desire a way out. They are trapped in rage and grief, but somehow also comfortable there. Consoled there. “George and Martha, sad sad sad.”
In high school I once performed a scene from Woolf with a scene partner. I had no idea what it was about; at one point I sang “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” with kind of an upbeat swing. (I think I even snapped my fingers.)
The lyrics, which I believed I did not invent but I totally did invent, were:
Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf, Virginia Woolf, Virginia Woolf?
Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf, Tell Me Whosa Whosa Whosa ‘fraid?
It did not do well in competition.
3. Dante’s Inferno
The Inferno is really less a story than a catalogue of punishments, but pretty much every modern portrayal of Hell is indebted to Dante. He took the classic idea that the punishment should fit the crime and drew it to such dark places. You can’t unsee the people who spend eternity blown this way and that without ever being able to stop, or Satan as an enormous beast trapped in a block of ice.
Plus, how gangster is it to write a book about Hell and fill it with your enemies? Talk about burning bridges yo.
2. The Black Lodge, Twin Peaks
I don’t know how David Lynch would describe the backwards-dancing nightmare zone of Twin Peaks, but “Hell” seems pretty fair. It’s a place where the very worst demon dwells, and a place a good soul can get trapped for decades (if not forever).
What I really admire about the idea of the Black Lodge is that it’s absolutely not based on Dante. There are no layers, there is no journey, nor any sense of crime and punishment. It’s as much a condition as a place. Hell as the experience of utter, existential foreignness. It’s like the under-your-skin-crawly feeling of Lovecraft injected into pop culture kitsch.
Or it’s like what if Coach Taylor regularly forced Matt Saracen into a sensory deprivation chamber. And Mrs. Coach drank wine that was black. But otherwise the show was completely the same.
I may need medical attention.
1. The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis
I’ve written about The Great Divorce before, and you can get a quick take on it in those tweets. I just find it so believable that people might refuse or not recognize Heaven because they can’t let go of grudges or crutches or other things.
Also, when people tell me about someone driving them nuts I love to dish up Lewis’ idea that that’s probably the person that will greet them in Heaven. That just seems so likely!
Marvel Phase Four
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Hollywood just announced that there’s a new film version of Stephen King’s Tommyknockers coming. Yeah, no, it’s not you, you haven’t heard of it because it’s not one of his best-loved works.
Here’s a great article from the Onion from the ‘90s entitled “I Don’t Even Remember Writing Tommyknockers”.
I thought I was the only one that fixated on Luke Skywalker’s “I was going to Tosche Station to Pick Up Some Power Converters” line. It turns out, Hamill gets that line more than any other. And now he’s revealed why he made it just so whiny.
Lastly, Shane Liesensang, who I interviewed about his work on Skyrim, had recommended to me a game called Kentucky Route Zero, which is this super weird mystery in which you’re a delivery truck driver just trying to drop off an antique but the place you need to get to is in this weird other worldly dimension. And you keep picking up other people along the way and honestly I really still don’t know what’s going on.
But suddenly halfway through it there’s this haunting musical number which feels straight out of Twin Peaks. Watch it. It’s really something.
I return to my slumber. Have a great week.
Here we go.