Posts Tagged ‘television’

It just ain’t the se-same anymore

Friday, February 12th, 2010

Okay. Let's try this blog thing again. Sorry folks. Here's something I was writing back in November. Not exactly timely anymore, and maybe it's stupid, but whatevs. Something to get back me back in gear.



As you've all heard, it's the 40th anniversary of Sesame Street, a show very dear to my heart, as it is toward many many people around the world. So naturally, I need to take this opportunity to be a grouch.

The Grouch Anthem

Perhaps you have not seen the show in ten+ years. Well, I have, and I am sorry to have to report: Sesame Street is a mere shadow of its former self.

Sesame Street is probably the single most influential children's television show of all time, with its impact spreading out internationally. It is the landmark kids' show that all others look toward. So why oh why, Sesame Workshop (née Children's Television Workshop), do you feel so insecure about your own relevance that you feel compelled to "keep up" with the changes in children's programming you perceive happening around you?

So what am I talking about? What happened?

Well, a lot of things. One you can't really blame anyone for, which is the loss of key personnel. Obviously, no one could ever really fill Jim Henson's shoes after his death - though to their credit, I think the staff did a tremendous job for a long time. Henson passed when I was four years old, so right in the middle of my prime Sesame Street viewing period, and I certainly didn't detect any drop in quality at the time. Frank Oz has moved on to bigger things, which is his right, only stopping by about once a year to tape new segments. I have no doubt that there are still talented writers and performers on the show, but it's still a legacy show. They just can't possibly share that same energy among that magical group of individuals who made the show so exciting back in 1969, anymore than the current writers of, say, a comic strip like Gasoline Alley can never hope to imitate Frank King's gentle charm.

Jim Henson & Frank Oz

The music has also suffered. I don't think there's anything offensively awful about the songs produced on the show now. But they are not Joe Raposo. They are not Jeff Moss. When was the last time the show produced something as infectious as "Rubber Duckie?" As devastating as "Somebody Come and Play?" As danceable as "A New Way to Walk?" As melancholy as "I Don't Want to Live on the Moon?" The era of classic songs is over, I'm afraid.

But if there's one simple turning point to mark where the series went downhill, it's Elmopocalypse. Elmo is perhaps too easy of a scapemonster. But I think perhaps in this case it's warranted. Now I think Elmo is cute. I think Elmo is a fine character to have in their repertory. But all of a sudden, Children's Television Workshop discovered that some people reaaaaaaaaally liked Elmo. And they spent a whole lot of money on Elmo merchandise. Remember the Tickle Me Elmo insanity of 1997? Since then, Sesame Street has become The Elmo Show. Almost literally. If you haven't watched the show recently, you might be shocked to find that Elmo has his own 15-minute segment in every single episode, called "Elmo's World." And all this comes at the expense of so many other great characters who now struggle for screen time, like Cookie Monster, Prairie Dawn, and my spirit animal - Grover.

Grover Sings the Blues

That's not the only change in format they've tried. In 2002, at the height of the popularity of Blue's Clues, Sesame Street introduced another weekly segment, a blatant rip-off called "Journey to Ernie" where viewers were asked to help find Ernie in a CGI landscape. Sesame Workshop was also duped into the (highly profitable) scam perpetrated by Teletubbies and Baby Einstein, creating television for infants despite a total lack of evidence that it benefits them in any way, or that they even have any idea what the hell is going on with that box emitting light. But the market demanded it, as parents now need technology as a substitute for babysitting and parenting even sooner, apparently, and so - Sesame Beginnings.

I suppose it's logical to some degree that the show would become so obsessed with following market trends. Sesame Street's success was largely due to an innovative approach co-opting the techniques of the advertising world to teach the basics of reading and counting. Each episode famously has a pair of sponsors - one letter and one number - which each show up in brief short films that appear as commercial breaks in between narrative segments. These slots also allowed for charming segments with some of those other wonderful characters, and for trippier animations which served for millions of children as their introduction to Philip Glass.

But now, there's less and less time for any of that. There's also just less Sesame Street in general. Up until 1998, 130 episodes of the show were produced each season. And last year, in Season 39? A grand total of 26.

As much as I'd like to, I'm not able to spend a ton of time watching daytime children's programming these days, so I can't say with certainty that there aren't new worthwhile shows on TV now. But I haven't seen or heard of any. I find it hard to imagine something new coming in to adequately fill the holes that the diminishing value of Sesame Street and the loss of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood (which I've spoken about before) leave. I find it hard to envision some sort of 21st century internet-based children's educational programming revival, either. These shows, in their prime, I think really represented the pinnacle of television's use as a medium. They offered a regular solace to children that they knew they could always count on. You don't know how much comfort I took knowing that I'd be able to enter that world every morning at 10 a.m. When I was living abroad as a child, I had so much separation anxiety from American children's television that I had my grandparents tape weeks worth of Mister Rogers and Sesame Street and ship it over to me, which I would watch over and over again.

I'm running out of steam here, so I'll just end with the most perfect moment in the history of the show:

Notes upon being midway through the first season of “The O.C.”

Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009

The OC

  • It's hard to determine how much my appreciation of the show would change if it had a different theme song.
  • The closing credits music is strikingly similar to the closing credits music for Friday Night Lights. Overall though, The O.C. really makes me appreciate FNL even more for its unglamorous small-town Texas setting.
  • In the pilot, Seth Cohen's room seems to be covered in posters of The Ramones, The Clash, and other '70s punk icons. Now, the most prominent posters are of Rooney, Death Cab for Cutie, and Bright Eyes. What accounts for the sudden degradation of his taste?
  • The character of Luke at first is a broad, cringe-inducing hypermasculine caricature ("Welcome to the O.C., bitch!") that brings to my mind (and I'm sure no one else's) the super rugged character from Dark Shadows with the super rugged name Burke Devlin played by an actor with an equally rugged named, Mitchell Ryan. But by midseason, Luke becomes really hilarious.
  • I haven't found out yet what happens with the character of Oliver, but Ryan's perceived paranoia regarding Oliver really resonates with me. Perhaps it's self-fulfilling prophecy, but I've yet to see paranoia of this type ever to be unfounded IRL. Maybe I like this show cause it plays to the intense distrust I have of several demographics, namely: people's boyfriends, women, and single men. The show confirms my suspicion that perhaps the only worthwhile people are husbands.
  • I was asked recently if I watch the show because I genuinely like it, or if it's because I find it funny. It's a question I'm asked a lot about many of the things I like, from '60s vampire soap operas to teen-pop music, so it's something I need to think more about and be able to articulate better. I can safely say, first of all, that it's not irony. At the same time, I'm always conscious of its absurdity and of its transparency as an expertly crafted and marketed product. Some of the appeal to me with these things is an academic interest in the ways pop culture has been sold to teenagers since the rise of the independent, car-driving, disposable cash-holding teen in the 1950s. I can laugh at a show's silliness, but I never ever like something because it's "so bad it's good."

List humor

Monday, April 6th, 2009

Every once in a while, I will see posted on several blogs and Facebook profiles something along the lines of: "SNL mostly sucked last night, but this sketch was pretty funny!" And I am suckered into watching it. And then I think, "If this is the funny sketch, how bad must the other hour-and-twenty-five minutes have been?"

It happened again this week, with the "funny" sketch being this one about the Muppets:

I hate when people think that all you need to do with referential humor is just make the reference...and that's it. There's no twist, nothing clever added. Essentially, it just amounts to a list. In this case, it is a list of Muppets. We go through all of them, hear approximations of their voices, and we're done. Ha.

Not that list humor can never be funny. But it requires some work. Monty Python's famous "Cheese Shop" sketch is very much an example of list humor, yet they make it work:

I think a big key is that it's not the only thing going on. We've got the surreal dancing men in bowlers in the corner, the inexplicable split-second cutaway, the meta- reaction of the shopkeeper to that cutaway, the silly transformation of John Cleese into a cowboy at the end, etc. Not to mention that the list itself is funny, because it is so extensive and obscure.

Cole Porter was perhaps the master of list humor. Not only did he manage to cram tons of references into a few minutes of music, he even made it rhyme. If I could write one song as good as "You're The Top" from Anything Goes, I would die happy, whistling a tune:

At words poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best,
Instead of getting 'em off my chest,
To let 'em rest unexpressed.
I hate parading my serenading
As I'll probably miss a bar,
But if this ditty is not so pretty
At least it'll tell you
How great you are.

You're the top!
You're the Coliseum,
You're the top!
You're the Louvre Museum.
You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss
You're a Bendel bonnet,
A Shakespeare's sonnet,
You're Mickey Mouse.
You're the Nile,
You're the Tower of Pisa,
You're the smile on the Mona Lisa
I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop,
But if, baby, I'm the bottom you're the top!

Your words poetic are not pathetic.
On the other hand, babe, you shine,
And I can feel after every line
A thrill divine
Down my spine.
Now gifted humans like Vincent Youmans
Might think that your song is bad,
But I got a notion
I'll second the motion
And this is what I'm going to add;

You're the top!
You're Mahatma Gandhi.
You're the top!
You're Napoleon Brandy.
You're the purple light
Of a summer night in Spain,
You're the National Gallery
You're Garbo's salary,
You're cellophane.
You're sublime,
You're a turkey dinner,
You're the time of the Derby winner.
I'm a toy balloon that is fated soon to pop
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!

You're the top!
You're a Ritz hot toddy.
You're the top!
You're a Brewster body.
You're the boats that glide
On the sleepy Zuider Zee,
You're a Nathan panning,
You're Bishop Manning,
You're broccoli!
You're a prize,
You're a night at Coney,
You're the eyes of Irene Bordoni.
I'm a broken doll,
A fol-de-rol, a blop,
But if, Baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!
You're the top!
You're a dance in Bali.
You're the top!
You're a hot tamale.
You're an angel, you,
Simply too, too, too diveen,
You're a Boticcelli,
You're Keats,
You're Shelley,

You're Ovaltine.
You're a boon,
You're the dam at Boulder.
You're the moon,
Over Mae West's shoulder.
I'm the nominee of the G.O.P.

Or GOP!

But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!

You're the top!
You're an Arrow collar.
You're the top!
You're a Coolidge dollar.
You're the nimble tread
Of the feet of Fred Astaire,
You're an O'Neill drama,

You're Whistler's mama,

You're Camembert.

You're a rose,
You're Inferno's Dante.

You're the nose
On the great Durante.
I'm just in the way,
As the French would say, "de trop."
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!

You're the top!
You're the Towel of Babel,
You're the top
You're the Whitney stable
By the river Rhine you're a sturdy stein of beer.
You're a dress from Saks's,
You're next year's taxes,
You're stratosphere!
You're my fuyst,
You're a drumstick lipstick.
You're da foist
In da Irish svipstick.
I'm a frightened frog that can find no log to hop
But if baby I'm the bottom
You're the top!
You're the top!
You're a Waldorf salad.
You're the top!
You're a Berlin ballad.
You're a baby grand
Of a lady and a gent.
You're an old Dutch master,

You're Mrs. Astor,
You're Pepsodent!
You're romance,
You're the steppes of Russia,
You're the pants
On a Roxy usher.
I'm a lazy lout that's just about to stop
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
You're the top!

Check out Slate for an annotated version of the lyrics. When I get a chance, I'll upload an mp3 of the song, but for now, be content with the best I could find on YouTube:

Chillin’ out maxin’ relaxin’ all cool at the Sunrise Assisted Living Community

Sunday, March 29th, 2009

Two high school girls boarded the Orange Line train to head home in the afternoon. One began quoting the theme song to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

"What's that?" the other girl asked.
"The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? Have you heard of it?"
"No."
"It had Will Smith. It's this super old show. Like, thirty years ago."

In West Philadelphia, born and raised...

Nick at Nite's transition from showing classics like I Love Lucy and Dragnet to instead showing sitcoms from my youth like Home Improvement and Roseanne has thus raised the great causality dilemma of basic cable: is a show on Nick at Nite because it's old, or is it old because it's on Nick at Nite? Could Ron Howard's premature balding be the cumulative effect of playing both Opie Taylor and Richie Cunningham, the result of exposure to UV rays during too many Block Party Summers?

Chicago as Seen Through Opening Credits #2: Siskel & Ebert At the Movies

Tuesday, March 17th, 2009

See also: CaSTOC #1: The Bob Newhart Show

200 hypothetical channels and still potentially nothing to watch

Monday, March 9th, 2009

The idea of a Comedy Central show called Just Humor Me is really bothering me. This program does not exist except for in my head. Yet, like those hypothetical arguments one dreams up while taking a shower, this somehow is still irrationally getting me all riled up.

Just Humor Me.

Not only is the title terrible, but I can imagine just how awful the corresponding content would be. I'm bothered even thinking about seeing "as seen on Comedy Central's Just Humor Me" on the ads for suburban comedy clubs featuring the up-and-comers from the show, who all would be wearing bowling shirts in their accompanying headshots.

What a terrible show.

Puppy Bowl V recap

Wednesday, February 4th, 2009

I've been watching the Puppy Bowl since its inaugural year, transfixed by the fuzzy image coming through the Tex Mode TV, an ancient 15" television decorated with weird wrestling-related Sharpee drawings that I took with me to my Greenwich Village dorm room my freshman year of college. It was a rare reprieve from the comedians on BET that one of my roommates would watch until the wee small hours of every night.

A couple years later, I received a Facebook message from an incoming freshman while I was studying abroad in Vienna. We hadn't met, and she acknowledged that it was weird to send Facebook friend requests to people you don't know, but she said she saw that we were the only people with the Puppy Bowl listed as our favorite TV shows and decided that we had to be friends. When I returned to Da States, she became one of my best friends. Adorabs, right?

Anyway, the point is that the Puppy Bowl occupies a special place in my heart, the garden apartment of a cardiac three-flat. I've watched approvingly as Animal Planet has introduced new innovations annually - the kitten half-time show, the tail-gaters...all wonderful. What could they have left up their sleeve?

They did not disappoint. Pepper the Parrot kicked off the event with a heartfelt rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner," which, to be perfectly honest, was a lot better than the performance by that woman at the Obamapalooza election night rally in Grant Park.

Then the game began. Madeline the Beagle quickly established herself as my favorite, as I'm a sucker for both beagles and girls with names beginning with "M." She was a particularly pretty pup, too, and had a good amount of spunk:
Madeline

Eli was the jerk of the bunch, you could tell pretty quickly. Just by looking at him, really:
Eli

It was a pretty clean game, light on penalties. The penalties were for relatively innocuous things like "excessive barking," and not for accidents on the field, which was a relief. I had had high hopes for Schroder, but ultimately I think he let his fans down by napping the entire time he was on the field:
Schroder

In the third quarter, another beagle, Matilda (presumably Madeline's sister) really stepped up her game. Grabbing a football between her teeth, she ran back and forth across the field, scoring multiple touchdowns for both sides. Matilda was justly rewarded with the honor of Most Valuable Puppy:

Something totally unexpected happened in the fourth quarter, however, though I suppose we should have seen it as inevitable, considering how rowdy crowds get these days. A streaker invaded the field, stopping play! From Animal Planet's website, I've learned that her name is Sarah Jessica Barker.

All in all, an excellent game. High fives all around.