What's on TV? Monday, October 10, 2005

On Saturday I talked about how different 2005's TV Guide was from the issues we usually look at, and this is certainly apparent when we look at the daily programming guide.  For one thing, the listings - except for prime time - appear only in grid format, and only the prime time grid changes from day to day.

That's why, for example, you'll see "Various Programs" indicated on the listings below; if a station had different programming each day in the 2:00-3:00 pm time slot, for example, rather than take up the time with what each day's show is the grid simply lets you know you'd better check it out yourself if you're not sure.  They know what they're doing here, though - the publishers were only too aware that by this time the bulk of TV Guide's subscription base consisted of hotels and motels receiving complimentary copies; more and more, people were depending on on-screen guides for their daily viewing.  For the same reason, the listings begin at 6am and run through 1am (for some, they end at 10pm) - most of what's on overnight is either informercials or programs that were already shown during the day.

A few random notes on the programming itself - you'll notice there's not a single movie being shown, or at least not during the times listed.  What a change from the past!  Also, the proliferation of infomercials (not seen in the past, or limited to the odd half-hour here and there), smarmy talk shows and mock court programs (each one existing only an excuse for people to shout at each other) and back-to-back airings of a particular show.  As I say, the times they are a changin'. So let's see what we've got.  Our programs are from the Twin Cities.

This week in TV Guide: October 9, 2005

TV Guide was already dead and buried long before this, the final "small size" issue, and the final one to feature local programming listings.  The death rattle probably started when the magazine was purchased by Rupert Murdoch in 1988 and began its transformation into a tawdry tabloid, but in truth the germ of the disease was contracted even earlier, as the medium itself changed.

From the outset, one of the primary goals of TV Guide was to win respect for television, to encourage people to view it as something other than a frivolous entertainment.  Publisher Walter Annenberg and Editor Merrill Pannit strove to elevate the level of dialogue from that of the typical "fan magazine," commissioning articles by noteworthy politicians, historians and authors, and featuring pieces from such writers as John Gregory Dunne, Joan Didion, Edith Efron and others.  Once it became apparent that television needed TV Guide more than the other way around, the magazine and its writers took the gloves off, frequently casting a critical eye not only at the shows themselves, but the stars who appeared in them.  And always, Pannit's editorials insisted that television could become better, with more of an emphasis on culture and the arts and improved programming for children, and that it should not dumb down its programming for the public.

At the same time, TV Guide was a staunch defender of television against its many critics.  It was skeptical, though not totally dismissive, of the idea that programs could have adverse effects on viewers, especially young children.  It constantly campaigned against government intervention, while reminding the industry that such intervention was inevitable if it refused to clean up its own act.  There were serious, incisive interviews with producers, directors and writers about how programs could better deal with controversial issues and adult topics, and whether or not there was an implicit censorship emanating from network headquarters.

All of that was part of the old TV Guide, the issues that you ordinarily read about in this space. But now, looking at this final issue, we notice the differences, large and small, that have appeared over the years.

For one thing, the daily listings now begin on Sunday rather than Saturday.  I suppose this makes sense given that the calendar week begins on Sunday, but I always thought the Saturday start made an implicit point about the importance of the weekend and how television was an instrumental part of the leisure time that Saturday and Sunday represented.*  That's the first, and most obvious, change, along with the staggering number of channels covered in the issue.  Not only has there been a multiplication of local stations, we now have cable as well.  It's this, more than anything else, that probably made the change in focus inevitable; in 2005, it was almost impossible to keep track of the hundreds of channels out there, and to publish them in a concise magazine format.  Today, ten years on, it's probably ten times more complex than that, considering the rise in original streaming series from Amazon, Netflix, and others.  How does one put out a television guide when people can get their programs at any time they want, even all at once if they so choose.  I wonder if a visionary such as Pat Weaver could have imagined it?

*For this issue, there are actually eight days covered, since subsequent issues will run from Monday to Sunday.

Sadly, there are other changes that are less understandable, ones that illustrate how the content has been cheapened.  Where The Doan Report once informed readers about things going on behind the scenes at the networks, we now have a full-page horoscope.  The "Shopper's Showcase," another innovation, is filled with advertisements for psychic and tarot readings and dating services.  There are recaps of the world of soaps, replete with sensational headlines like "Oh no they didn't!", and picture layouts that look more like the pages of People Magazine than TV Guide.  Then, of course, there are the full-page drug ads, replete with warnings on proper usage and possible side effects.*  What once was presented as news is now juicy gossip, written in a breathless "dish the dirt" prose.

*Fortunately, this was in the pre-Viagra era of heavy-duty advertising. 

Have I mentioned, by the way, that youngsters ought to get off my lawn?

There is, however, a single redeeming section that dares to hearken back through the years, a section commemorating the history of TV Guide with a look through the decades, featuring historical recreations of famous covers with today's stars taking on the iconic roles of the past.  The recreations are often quite witty, as with the case of an I Dream of Jeannie cover from the late '60s, with Regis Philbin and Kelly Ripa taking the roles of Larry Hagman and Barbara Eden (Right).  There's also a "Then and Now" section presenting quotes and icons of years past (such as the 1968 quote from Dean Martin when, asked if he could describe his philosophy of life in ten words, said he could do it in less: "Everybody should have fun."). They've also thrown in a picture of Diana Rigg in her Avengers leather outfit, so there's that.

This section functions much the same way as the retrospective film montages that frequent the Oscar broadcasts (another fun event of the past that seems to have lost its way in the last few years). They're fun on one hand, an affectionate parade of memories, of people you knew (and plenty you didn't), and on the other hand they provide a vivid reminder of how far away those times are, and that despite the brilliance that still manifests itself from time to time, those days - good and bad - are gone forever.

***

Since we're on a theme of change, there ought to be something to that effect regarding the programs on television this week.

Back then, Sunday Night Football was on ESPN

I've remarked often about the days when sports didn't dominate the weekend, but by now it does. There are no less than 14 college football games on Saturday alone, and thanks to cable there are now games on Thursday and Friday nights as well.  The World Series, the ending to which we looked at last week, hasn't even started yet; this week is the province of the League Division Series, followed by the League Championship Series; the World Series itself won't begin until October 22.  NASCAR, which once appeared a week or two later on Wide World of Sports, now gets live, flag-to-flag coverage on NBC, which shares NASCAR with Fox - a network that didn't even exist when the TV Guides we review were originally published.

The Close-Up, which once covered nearly half a page, now is reduced to a quarter of a page, and with so many programs from so many networks crammed onto the page (in small type, no less), it's what you might depend on as to what's worth watching.  This obviously applies to The Surreal Life, on VH-1 at 8:00pm (CT) on Sunday: "Feuding housemates Omarosa and Janice Dickinson battle to the (very) bitter end, leading one of them to leave the house in tears in the fifth-season finale."  There's a spotlight on the new series Relentless, a "true-crime series about women who took the law in to their own hands," that premieres on Oxygen at 9:30 Sunday. That was apparently good for a couple of seasons. Better that you might want to stick with this week's episode of Lost (ABC, Wednesday at 8:00), where Hurley tries to deal with numbers that keep coming back from his past, or Ghost Whisperer (CBS, 7:00 Friday), a "tearjerker" about a ghost reluctant to leave his grieving fiancee.* Even here, there's no rundown on casts, no details as to episode title - you either know it or you don't.

*Gee, I wonder where they got that idea from?

Movies remain as big as they ever were on television, but there's been a shift.  Instead of blockbuster theatrical premieres from the networks, and afternoon or late night movies from local stations, most movies today are broadcast on cable, and channels such as HBO and TCM give them to you unedited and without commercial interruption.  Remember how people used to complain about that?  And whereas even married couples used to sleep in separate beds, if you're lucky you can probably catch a glimpse or two of a bare breast now, at least if you have HBO or Cinemax.  Anyway, there are so many movies on TV now, and each one of them runs so many times a week, there's an entire section devoted to listing them - it's called, appropriately enough, "The Big Movie Guide," and it runs for 31 pages. You can find it in the back of the issue, right after the ad for the tarot readings.

***

It's been a strange issue to review, because the difference between this issue and one from, say, the '80s is far greater than the difference between that '80s issue and one from the late '50s. In the later case there were major cosmetic changes, to be sure, and the programming habits of individual stations could be somewhat erratic, but at least it was recognizable as the same type of creature.  Perhaps that's what makes this one so hard to follow, the fact that it's so different, so chock full of information that one doesn't even know where to begin to look.

And this only covers some of the stations available!

There are 10 local stations listed, and an additional 74 cable listings to choose from.  It's the ultimate in individualism, and when we look back over the years, we remember talk about the '80s being the decade of greed, and the '90s and early '00s being the time when the stock market took off and made everyone wealthy and prosperous until they weren't.  In the same way, we've seen television progress from a relative handful of local stations to increasing choices, first a number of cable networks and then an overwhelming number, a fourth broadcast network and then a fifth*, video cassettes and then DVDs and now streaming video enabling you to watch what you want when you want, even an entire season over a weekend, which means you're no longer subject to the programming decisions of others; and running through all this is a certain glorification of the individual.  And so we ask: has television promoted this, with its evolutionary choices driving the expectations people have about other aspects of their lives, or is it simply a mirror of how people feel regarding life in general, with television adjusting to that new reality?  Six of one, half a dozen of the other, in all likelihood, and yet - like the chicken and the egg, to belabor another cliche if we must - one of these schools of thought must have played a more dominant role, informed the other in some pivotal way.  Perhaps we need The Most Interesting Man in the World to tell us the truth.

*For some reason, PBS has never been counted as one of the Big Three, now the Big Four with the addition of Fox, and I'm simply following that convention.  Sorry, CW.

I'm not surprised that TV Guide changed its format, going to a bigger size and eliminating local programming. In a way, it's more surprising that it didn't happen sooner; I had been a loyal subscriber to TV Guide since 1972 and had read it going back years before that, but I'd stopped reading it three or so years before this; I'd actually gotten to where I'd ignored it for three or four months, never even opening the cover, before I got around to canceling the subscription altogether. It's true that it's more convenient to look programs up on the computer or through the channel guide from your cable or satellite provider, but it takes a bit of effort (I seldom get past the sports channels), and to be perfectly honest, it's nowhere near as much fun.

You wouldn't expect me to ignore
a Texas Ranger, would you?

For TV Guide was never really about the TV shows themselves, at least not about the titles. It was about the descriptions, the list of stars and writers, the way the shows interacted with each other and how one could plan an entire week's worth of viewing at a glance. It was reading about the stars and learning something about their private lives, even if that information was frequently laughably incomplete. It was about the editorials and articles urging improvement in programming, about prominent people from various fields making their suggestions, about stories that gave the historical background to documentaries or movies that were on that week. In those days one could read about the prospects of something called cable television, could speculate as to whether or not people would actually pay money to watch something in their own home, could imagine a large machine that would record programs for them so they could watch them later. There was even the hope that TV sets would become flatter, that you might even be able to hang them on the wall.

In short, TV Guide was about the future as much as it was the present, and when it was in the present it was all there. The issue of October 9, 2005, the final issue of its kind, is about a future that's already changing so quickly that this issue would appear quaint to us today, in the same way as that inaugural issue from April 3, 1953, the one with Lucy and Ricky's baby on the cover.

There is no sense of the present anymore, just a rush to reach a future that's much less exciting, with an emphasis on individual choice in viewing rather than the collective group experience.  As I said, it was inevitable.  But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

And if you damn kids are still there, get off the lawn - this time, I mean it. TV  

Us vs. U.S.

One of my goals with this blog has been to use the television lens to trace changes in American culture, and one of the most significant, if subtle, examples of this can be found in the nomenclature of television news anchormen when referring to the U.S. Government.

I suppose if you're of a certain age, you wouldn't even notice that there had been a change, an evolution in the way the news reporter thinks of himself.  And perhaps this change isn't universal; it's been so long since I've had the stomach to watch network news that I may be completely off-base here.  But what I'm talking about here is the idea that reporters once viewed themselves - and identified themselves - as Americans.  You watch and in their words there's almost a pride of ownership when Walter Cronkite refers to Adlai Stevenson as "our Ambassador to the United Nations," or when Bob Young, giving Vietnam casualty reports, says that "1,842 enemy troops" were killed.   Who can tell who the enemy is nowadays?

Today, I think it more likely that Stevenson would be called "the United States Ambassador to the U.N.," and that the troop casualty figures would be reported with more of a grammatical dispassion.  That's not entirely bad, mind you; I think objectiveness is generally a good thing when it comes to news reporting.  I'm not going to get into any suggestions of political bias here, because I try to keep this a partisan-free zone, but let's face it - there have been accusations of a liberal bias for decades, and Fox News can often sound like a shill for the GOP.

And yet there's something almost touching about those old days.  It's as if reporters understood that while their very occupation set them apart from others, they were still part of a larger collective - they were part of the media, yes, but they were also part of America.  When John F. Kennedy was assassinated, it wasn't only a news event, but a personal one as well.  Kennedy was a world leader, but he was also their president, and they reacted not as journalists, but as Americans.*

*Many of them were also personal friends of JFK, but there's something more at work here.  Jay Watson, news director of WFAA in Dallas, had seen Kennedy in the motorcade just moments before the assassination.  He applauded Kennedy, not out of a partisan sense but because he was showing the respect due the office.

I suppose this all changed during the Vietnam/ Watergate era, when the media become more political, more adversarial.  I first became cognizant of this dynamic during one of those media roundtable discussions that Fred Friendly used to conduct on PBS.  A question arose, and I'm going by memory here so I may be off on the details, but the gist of it was that in reporting battle action, a correspondent comes upon information of a pending attack upon American troops.  Does the correspondent let them know?  The panel, which as I recall included Peter Jennings and Mike Wallace, agreed to varying degrees that their jobs made them journalists first, Americans second.*

*Yes, I know Jennings was Canadian.  But you get the point - the assumption was that he would have been on "our" side.

Wait - Here it is!  Amazing what you can find out on the Internet.  The scenario posed was thus:

In 1989, ABC's Peter Jennings and CBS's Mike Wallace were asked, "In a future war involving U.S. soldiers, what would a TV reporter do if he learned the enemy troops with which he was traveling were about to launch a surprise attack on an American unit?" Wallace responded that, ideally, journalists would "regard it simply as another story that they are there to cover." Jennings initially indicated that his first move would be to "do what I could to warn the Americans." But after hearing Wallace's comments, he changed his response, admitting, "I think [Wallace is] right . . . I chickened out."

I don't know how the journalists of the 50s and 60s felt, but something suggests to me that they would have viewed an attack on American troops as an attack on them.  If I had the time (and maybe I will sometime), I'd go back and look at the differences (if any) between coverage of Pearl Harbor and 9/11.  Would there be differences?  What do you think?*

*An interesting comment from the site I linked to above, from Philip Meyer, who at the time of this comment held the Knight Chair in Journalism at UNC: "Paraphrasing George Washington, 'When we assumed the journalist, we did not lay aside the citizen.' Journalists in World War II followed that maxim. The postmodern drift toward rejection of all authority has weakened it, but, when there's a real war, we remember who we really are."  The question thus becomes: has today's journalist laid aside the citizen?

At any rate, whether journalists have become more professional, whether they belong to what Jeanne Kirkpatrick referred to as the "Blame America First" crowd, or whether they're simply a product of our cynical times, I think this does suggest a difference in how reporters view the relationship between themselves and their country.  And in that sense, it seems a perfect mirror of how the feelings of our own society have changed.

Habemus Papam on TV

In case you hadn’t heard, the papal conclave begins today, and within a few days – perhaps, even, by the time you get around to reading this – the Roman Catholic Church will have a new pope.

Dating back to the 13th Century, the conclave, in which the cardinals* of the Church gather to deliberate and vote, is steeped in tradition, ceremony and secrecy.  It seems a throwback to another era entirely - the white smoke coming out of the temporary chimney, the cardinals emerging from the Sistine Chapel, the Cardinal Protodeacon appearing on the balcony to announce the name of the new pope.  And yet, for all its medieval trappings, the ritual has translated amazingly well to television.  In fact, if we look back at papal elections in the TV era, we see that the ceremony has remained essentially the same - it's the rest of the world that changes.

*Those under the age of 80.

Paul VI, June, 1963.  The cameras capture the chimney silhouetted against the Roman sky, the white smoke signaling the good news.  The breaking news is, as always, in black-and-white.  The crowds are polite and respectful, as always.



John Paul I, August, 1978.  Everyone thought the smoke was black, or at least grey - even if you don't speak Italian, you can tell that the broadcasters were as stunned as everyone when the doors swung open.  The look is similar, but the broadcast is now in color, and the cameras capture a closer look at the new pope.  The crowd is appropriately excited, not quite as restrained as 15 years before, don't you think?


John Paul II, October, 1978.  Only two months later, and not much has changed other than that the balcony is bathed in spotlights to illuminate the fall evening.  Note that at the 1:31 mark, as Cardinal Felicci announces the new pope's first name, "Carolum," you can hear ABC's analyst, Fr. Vincent O'Keefe, whisper, "The Pole!  Wojtyla!"  Considering that few outside the conclave thought Wojtyla a contender, it speaks to how well-prepared Fr. O'Keefe is in his preparation.  The crowd doesn't know quite what to make of this new, "foreign" pope, but roars its approval at the choice of his name, in honor of John Paul I.


Benedict XVI, April, 2005.  Here we see perhaps the greatest evolution in coverage.  The cameras are now more at eye level, rather than giving us the feeling of looking "up" at the balcony.  There are more closeups as well, and by the time the pope leaves the balcony (not seen here), we're actually looking over his shoulder at the cheering crowds.  The crowds themselves are less inhibited than we've seen in the past, with applause almost entirely replaced by cheering.

  It's difficult to know what to expect this year.  It will be in high-def, which is an advancement.  I would expect we might have even more camera locations - perhaps even one on the balcony itself. The crowds will be large, I suspect, but this is a strange situation, with the pope having abdicated rather than died; there's a sadness, but of a different kind, and without that closure I wonder if people will be as enthusiastic as they have in the past.   Regardless, in a few days we'll have our answer - along with the name of the new pope.  I'm excited not only to see who he is, but how it's covered.  Time will tell.