電武士

news and views from michael rollins in tokyo

Category: Reviews (page 4 of 4)

Joanna Newsom

Where would I be without KEXP? Musically worse off, that’s for sure. It’s almost as if they followed me over here from Seattle, with a streaming audio site that just might be the best one out there. If you don’t know it already I suggest you have a listen.

A recent” find” of mine there is Joanna Newsom, a gifted harpist and songwriter who weaves some of the most poignant melodies and lyrics I’ve heard. Take this passage from Emily, the opening track on her new release Ys.

in due time we will see the far butte lit by a flare
I’ve seen your bravery, and I will follow you there

and row through the nighttime
gone healthy
gone healthy all of a sudden
in search of the
midwife
who could help me
who could help me
help me find my way back in
there are worries where I’ve been

say, say, say in the lee of the bay; don’t be bothered
leave your troubles here where the tugboats shear the water from the water
(flanked by
furrows, curling back, like a match held up to a newspaper)
Emily, they’ll follow your lead by the letter
and I make this claim, and I’m not ashamed to say I know you better
what they’ve seen is just a beam of your sun that banishes winter

let us go! though we know it’s a hopeless endeavor
the ties that bind, they are barbed and spined and hold us close forever
though there is nothing would help me come to grips with a sky that is gaping and yawning
there is a song I woke with on my lips as you sailed your great ship towards the morning

come on home, the poppies are all grown knee-deep by now
blossoms all have fallen, and the pollen ruins the plow
peonies nod in the breeze and while they wetly bow, with
hydrocephalitic listlessness ants mop up-a their brow
and everything with wings is restless, aimless, drunk and dour
the butterflies and birds collide at hot, ungodly hours
and my clay-colored motherlessness rangily reclines
– come on home, now! all my bones are dolorous with vines

Other reviews I’ve read suggest her voice-a lilting, cracked and warbling affair–takes some getting used to, but I am finding difficult to get enough. It sticks with me throughout the day, making want more and a still closer inspection of her rich lyrical escpades. Highly recommended!

Restaurant Chartier

…is where I sort of enjoyed a birthday dinner this year with my two best girls, Rie and Mia. I say “sort of” because, while the food was good and the wine even better, Mia spent most of the time crying and thrashing about in her brand-new stroller, meaning Rie and I, rather than chatting and enjoying the fine food, mostly took turns rocking Mia and walking her around the lobby, trying everything we could to get her to sleep or at least stop screaming. Joy.

But even with Mia’s protracted histrionics and efforts at distraction, Restaurant Chartier still managed to impress us in terms of quality, price and presentation…

Restaurant Chartier is a one-minute walk from 戸越公園 (togoshi koen) station on the 大井町線 (Oimachi Line), right down here in ritzy Shinagawa-ku. That probably makes it pretty remote for most of you, unless you live somewhere on the vast network of 東急 lines that crisscross this part of the city. We just walk (or “stroll,” I suppose) over from chic 戸越銀座 and are there in minutes, making it pretty much part of the ‘hood.

Anyway, suffice to say that it’s a bit off the beaten path, but nonetheless worth the trip!

The menu basically consists of the three differently-priced course menus. The 3,500 yen course includes starter, soup, fish and meat, then dessert. This was our choice for the evening.

The appetizer was a complex medly of vegetables and seafood, with 鮟鱇の肝 (liver of anglerfish) in the center surrounded by marinated squid, smoked salmon, crisp whole shrimp, smoked duck breast and more. Halfway into this we finished off the sparking wine aperitif and moved on to a 1998 Dominique Cabernet Saivignon Merlot from South Africa which was delicate yet complex, and a real bargain at 6000 yen.

The pumpkin soup which arrived next was good, and was followed by a perfectly grilled 真鯛 (madai) with sea urchin sauce. Absolutely amazing! Crisp near the edges, soft and meaty inside, it was the highlight of the meal.

Next came a grilled steak with red wine sauce, also perfectly cooked to melt in the mouth. The steak rested atop a sliced 山芋 was accompanied by a sprinkiling of diced carrot and a broiled new potato. While not a particularly innovative addition to the course menu, it did its job in rounding out the meal and getting the most out of that Dominique, which by this point had relaxed and was wearing more of its Merlot.

We wrapped things up with a special b-day dessert and tea and called it a night. It was our third visit, and there we were again, leaving fully satisifed and with a wallet only slightly lighter than when we entered.

Well-appointed, spacious, clean and almost smoke-free, it’s definitely worth a try if you find yourself in the ‘hood. Here are some pics from the meal if you’d like more encouragement…

chartier.01.jpg

chartier.02.jpg

chartier.03.jpg

chartier.04.jpg

chartier.05.jpg

桂花ラーメン

Really really good Kumamoto ramen isn’t easy to find here in Tokyo, but I did! Any time I see 豚骨ラーメン I’m always intrigued, and the 店主盛拉麺 at Keika was fantastic! The pork was tender and juicy, the vegetables crisp, and the noodles firm and cooked to perfection. The soup was a bit heavy, but it’s to find a good Tonkotsu that isn’t, eh?

keika_ramen.jpg

Check the site for locations, or go straight to Shinjuku 3-chome where you’ll find three, including the one I visited:

東京新宿 末広店
新宿3丁目7-2
03(3354)4591
午前11時~午後11時

http://keika-raumen.co.jp/top.html

Totally Lost in Tranlsation

lit.jpg I know it’s a bit late in the game to be talking about Lost in Translation, but it only arrived in Japan three weeks ago and is therefore firmly back on the local culture radar. At least this time around we have the actual movie to consider and not just the reviews of film critics and bloggers overseas who enjoyed its initial release.

We’ve been looking forward to the movie with much anticipation, of course, set as it is so close to home and the object of both rave reviews and sharp criticism. Add to that Sophia Coppola’s screenplay Oscar plus a slew of other awards and, well, you can just imagine our excitement when the film finally arrived in theatres here. (And if you can’t, well… pretty damn excited.)

So you know the story, right? Bob Harris (Bill Murray) comes to Tokyo to shoot a whisky commercial. Jet-lagged and adrift in all the foreignness he bides his time amid the comfortable familiarity of whisky and westerners in the hotel bar. There he meets Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson), also staying at the Park Hyatt and equally estranged from familiar life thanks to her photographer husband’s work schedule and the vast unknown that is Tokyo. They become friends, talk for hours, have fun, that sort of thing.

Now, if you read the reviews (I did, and many of them) chances are good that you respond to the film one of two ways. Either you call the film a masterpiece of subtly that evokes a broad range of emotions through the depiction of the two main characters as they find a special closeness and understanding of life through their shared immersion in the non-reality of Tokyo, OR you (as an Asian-American) hate the movie because it depicts the Japanese as buffoons or simple caricatures.

In my own case, however, I couldn’t help thinking that I had just watched a different movie. Although I was looking hard, I totally failed to find either those things praised as exceptional nor those denigrated as despicable. Instead, I felt as though I had just enjoyed a good but unremarkable movie whose most redeeming quality was Brian Reitzell’s excellent musical production and arrangement.

Although the acting is good, I thought the characters (”both of them,” you might say) were as ephemeral as must of the movie’s soundtrack. Bob Harris is no more three-dimensional than his whisky ads that grace the sides of buses and buildings, and while Bill Murray’s portrayal of him is certainly superb I felt no desire to connect with this walking, talking mid-life crisis of a man. It was as if his dissatisfaction with life rubbed off on me as a viewer, making me wish he was “doing a play somewhere” instead of bumming me out here.

Scarlett Johansson is similarly thin in her role as Charlotte. For all the time she spends staring out the hotel window (onto my old neighborhood, by the way) and at “traditional” Japanese settings she seems not to find anything there to pique her interest. I mean, is it so foreign that she is incapable of even the briefest sense of wonder? Interest? She cries on the phone to her friend that she went to a temple and “didn’t feel anything.” Was she expecting enlightenment to hit her then and there because she overheard some chanting? Hoping for some deep sense of awe as she stood amid the centuries-old monuments of Kyoto? Perhaps I wouldn’t have, either, but if she can manage to walk around the streets of Shinjuku or Shibuya without experiencing even a little of either–which I still manage to do after five years here–then I think she’s a character strongly in need of development.

Character development is one of the key complaints of the film’s detractors, who cite the stereotypical depiction of Japanese in the film as blatant racism. This review from the Asian American Revolutionary Movement Ezine complains that the film employs stereotypes for comic fodder. “They’re short! They’re wacky! They can’t pronounce their Rs!” The only problem with this type of complaint–never voiced by the Japanese I know, yet often expressed by Americans of Asian descent–is that it patently ignores the reality of the country in question: Japan. Fact is, Japanese are short(er). That elevator scene with Bill Murray surrounded by shorter Japanese? I can relate to it because (here in Tokyo) I experience it on a regular basis. Wacky? Of course the television personality Matthew (an actual performer, mind you, not some contrivation) is wacky. That’s his shtick. So are many other TV personalities here. Pronunciation? Sorry, folks, but that, too, is a fact of life here, and although it was exaggerated to ill-effect in the scene with the escort, it too falls squarely into the realm of Life in Tokyo.

In fact, putting aside that particular scene, I wasn’t able to see much of anything that denigrated the Japanese at all. Quite the contrary, when it comes to the clash of cultures, I think it was the two leads, especially Bob, that were depicted poorly. Typical “ugly American” abroad, Bob expects everyone to speak his language, know his culture, treat him like a big shot. And when they can’t or don’t, he responds with either derision or sarcasm. If Sophia was hoping to insult anyone with this film, it would have to be people like him.

Anyway, what did I like about the movie? Not much, actually, but that’s probably because it had been built up so much in my own mind that I was expecting something much better. I liked that the film was set so close to home, and presented a semi-accurate picture of what Tokyo looks like today. The music was also very good (Squarepusher! Death in Vegas!) and helped the movie maintain a very low-key feeling of being disconnected and set adrift.

Finally, I appreciated that the friendly relationship between Bob and Charlotte remained just that, and that Coppola didn’t bow to the formulaic pressure of having them end up in the sack. That final kiss and inaudible whisper I think kept the film true to it’s underlying idea that what Bob and Charlotte take away from their brief time together is exactly what they brought to it, plus some newfound understanding of what they as individuals really are. Well done, that.

Fight Club

 

Edward Norten and Brad Pitt Rated R. Directed by David Fincher; written by Jim Uhls; based on the novel “Fight Club” by Chuck Palahniuk. Starring Brad Pitt (Tyler Durden), Edward Norton (Jack, narrator), Helena Bonham Carter (Marla Singer), Robert (Meat Loaf), and Jared Leto (Angel Face).

 

If you buy a ticket to Fight Club expecting to see blood, most of Brad Pitt, and a healthy serving of violence, you won’t be disappointed. But this is no simple fight movie. With this follow-up to his unnerving 1995 thriller Seven, David Fincher delivers a powerful, fast-moving and thought-provoking film that stimulates on numerous levels.

The cinematography is first-rate, the special effects excellent, and the film offers one of the best narratives in years. Edward Norton is simply superb as the deadpan off-screen Jack that guides us through the story and adds snippets of background information where necessary.

At the beginning we meet Jack, a milquetoast corporate drone who provides our first look at writer Jim Uhls’ depiction of his 90’s everyman, trapped in a thankless nine-to-five job and ground down by the banality of his modern existence as a by-the-numbers consuming automaton. This role is set into sharp relief in an early scene where Jack sits hunched over the toilet with an Ikea catalog in one hand and a portable phone in the other, placing an order for living room pieces that would finish out his all-Ikea condo. “I’d flip through catalogs, trying to figure out which dining set defines me as a person,” he recounts in the narrative.

Jack works for a large, unnamed auto company as an incident investigator, looking into accidents and employing simplistic formulae as the basis for deciding whether or not to conduct recalls. The dissatisfaction with his work, the constant travel and the general malaise into which his life has slid finds him unable to sleep, and he consequently begins to spend his days and nights in a kind of hazy purgatory between waking and sleep.

And then he meets Tyler Durden. Brad Pitt is almost perfect in this role as the insolent, charismatic, and reckless antithesis to Jack’s everyman. Tyler is rather enigmatic (for a soap salesman) and leaves a strong enough impression on Jack that he rings him up later when his Ikea-intensive condo takes a turn for the worst. Tyler ends up putting Jack up in his fabulously dilapidated urban mansion, and then things really start to take off.

Tyler and Jack start Fight Club, an informal gathering of 20- and 30-something, mostly muscular men disaffected with their dull, monotonous lives in the service and manufacturing industries and looking for the charge of real experience. Or something. This is never made very clear, but these figures evidently find something cathartic in the brutal, consensual violence in which they participate week after week. There are countless scenes showing shirtless men beating one another bloody before finishing with a close embrace of masculine camaraderie. The homoeroticism is clear in these and other scenes, but never develops into anything other than male pattern bonding.

Before long their numbers begin to grow, and the Fight Club expands its activities beyond the walls of the club basement where things began. This new direction, dubbed Club Mayhem, is driven and managed by an increasingly mythic Tyler, ever more powerful with the full and unwavering support of a growing cadre of adherents who have come to serve him. Soon Tyler and Jack’s ramshackle house becomes a bustling nerve center of activity as Club Mayhem sets about preparing for their biggest act of urban terrorism yet.

But rather than give the entire story away, I’ll conclude my overview of the storyline with that.

There are other things happening on the periphery that I’ve neglected to mention, including a bizarre love/hate relationship between Jack and Tyler and the darkly sensual, chain-smoking Marla, played by Helena Bonham Carter. Initially appearing as a fellow addict of the 12-step and support group circuit, she is described by narrator Jack as “the little scratch on the roof of your mouth that would heal if you could only stop tonguing it–but you can’t.” She and Jack eventually butt heads at a support group meeting and work out an arrangement to “split things up.” But then a twist brings Tyler and Marla together for marathon sessions of vocal, rambunctious sex that soon infuriate Jack.

And then there’s Meat Loaf, bigger than ever and appearing as testicular cancer survivor Bob, hair cropped short and sporting prosthetic “bitch tits” due to the hormonal havoc wrought following the removal of his testes. Bob’s character is ludicrous yet believable as the Testicular Cancer Support Group member who joins the others every week to “stand together and cry.”

Fincher and Ulhs tie all of this together nicely, mostly succeeding at keeping the viewer firmly held within the confines of the phantasmagorical reality they’ve created with Fight Club. The numerous messages that appear throughout the film are less clearly defined, however, and often end up diluted or forgotten all together as the movie careens through a succession of rapid twists and turns. The anti-consumerism message, symbolized early in the film by an Ikea catalog and echoed later in the words of Tyler as he exhorts Jack, “You are not what you own. You are not how much you have in the bank. You are not your khakis. You are not a unique and beautiful snowflake.” Warnings about materialism and its discontents recur periodically throughout the film, but are never supported to the extent necessary to make believable their implicitly tendered corollary–that our empty materialism leads inevitably to the kind of haunted disaffection with life and living epitomized by the everyman figures that populate the film’s backdrop. Remember, these guys (and they are all guys, by the way) have ostensibly been so hollowed out emotionally and mentally, so detached from other people and the world around them that they actually crave the feeling of knuckles pounding flesh, of blood pouring forth from their own shredded lips and gums, of the sheer rush of physical combat.

It’s difficult to correlate these raucous, well-muscled extras with the actual Ikea and Geraldo set and the bovine contentedness they exhibit, happily immersed in carefully crafted demographic cocoons. In the Coca-ColaTM society of the early 21st century we see no machine-directed rage, no throaty paeans to vaguely-defined anarchistic ideology, no crumpled paycheck stubs in the clenched fists of workers. The fact is, for most of us, if you wannna see these things yourself you need to pay the man at the door and go find a seat, a fact that makes Fight Club all the more presumptuous in the final analysis.

Fincher and Uhls have given us what we want–all the brutality, spilled blood and fucking we expect in a Brad Pitt blockbuster–only packaged in a way that leaves us free to swagger out of the theatre with the smug assurance of the rebel consumer–in on the joke, freshly entertained, and only seven bucks for the worse.

On the surface, Fight Club aspires to more than the typical, formulaic parade of eye candy and hip machismo, but in the end it fails to deliver on this promise. It’s entertaining, it’s thought provoking, and it has some worthwhile things to say. But in the end it’s basically Brad Pitt with his shirt off, a script with some potential, and just another lesson in What’s Cool Now.

But see it anyway.

Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television

 

Television has been on my mind a lot lately. This is probably true for most people, but chances are the reasons are different. Fact is, I don’t watch a lot of television. I don’t subscribe to the sole cable service (TCI) offered in my area and consequently my viewing options are limited to the two or three broadcast stations I can pick up using a pair of ancient rabbit ears. So I’m not thinking about this or that show necessarily, but rather television itself. Television the medium. Television the technology.

At some point I suppose I fell out of the habit of watching TV. When I would turn on the tube, to watch Late Night or catch some Clinton Inquisition footage, I found myself unfailingly dismayed by the ongoing slide of television content into ever greater depths of boorish stupidity, not to mention the plunging content-to-ads ratio. That’s why the main uses for my television these days are a.) rental video viewing and b.) CD caddy.

Nevertheless, television has been on my mind a lot lately, like I said, and it’s not because I’m watching more than usual, or even looking for misplaced CDs. It’s because I’m trying to watch less, and finding that I have increasingly little say in the matter.

Television has become positively pervasive. Take a look around you, in restaurants and bars, airport terminals, waiting rooms of all kinds, elevators, ATMs, classrooms (!), and before long, I should think, even bathroom stalls. More and more today you go into these places only to find them practically festooned with CRTs, continually switched on and spewing forth babble and an incessant barrage of flashing, cavorting and distracting images. They’re always positioned up high, near the ceiling for maximum exposure and minimum access. CNN even broadcasts a special “airport” version of it’s newscast–characterized as such by a 50/50 news to commercials ratio and zero coverage of airline mishaps, I’m sure–hawked no doubt as a “valuable information service” for the business traveler on the go. In fact, at Sea-Tac airport here in Seattle, Delta airlines decided it was such a valuable service that every fucking gate and waiting area required two or three of the things. Now you can’t even find a seat in the terminal that doesn’t have a CRT or three blaring down at you. Don’t like what’s on? We gots one station. Want to lower the volume? Live with it, pal. Calling it practically Orwellian is no exercise in hyperbole.

Anyway, this was the mental stew–three parts frustration, one part helplessness, and a dash of nihilistic rage–that sat steaming atop my own mental TV tray when I happened to stumble across the book Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television. An increasingly vocal critic of television myself, something in the title (the word elimination perhaps, hmm?) resonated with me and I snatched up a copy. And I’m glad I did. Reading the book has given me a greater understanding of television and its impact on both people and the society at large. I feel more informed, and more necessarily wary. But most of all, I don’t feel like turning on the TV often anymore. And I think if more of us felt that way it would surely be a good thing. And that’s why I’m writing this.

 

 

Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television

Jerry Mander, 1977, Quill Press

ISBN 0-688-08274-2

 
 

I first came across the name Jerry Mander while reading Thomas Frank’s The Conquest of Cool, a historical analysis of the U.S. advertising industry this century. It focuses on the expropriation of trends, fads and other cultural constructs by commercial interests and their use of them in fueling consumerism. (A somewhat dry read, but still informative and thought provoking.) Mander was president and partner of the ad agency Freeman, Mander and Gossage, San Francisco, which is described in Frank’s book as one of the key agencies that drove the Creative Revolution in advertising during the mid- to late-sixties.

His five years with FMG followed ten years of work in public relations and advertising. In his introduction to Four Arguments, Mander writes, “During that time, I learned that it is possible to speak directly into people’s heads, and then leave images inside that can cause people to do what they might otherwise never have thought to do.” But the novelty and thrill of having that kind of power eventually wore off, and he found himself more and more critical of the advertising industry, its methods, and his role within it. He left FMG, and in 1972 founded the country’s first non-profit ad agency. He began work on Four Arguments in 1974 and the first edition appeared in print in 1977.

As the title suggests, the book presents four general arguments for “the complete elimination of television forever.” An extreme position, many might argue, but Mander maintains the thesis throughout the work that the medium itself is unreformable, and that the problems inherent in the technology are dangerous “to personal health and sanity, to the environment, and to the democratic process.” And curiously, even though the book was published two full decades ago, most or all of the arguments are equally timely today. Even the technological limitations of television on which Mander focuses in one chapter haven’t changed much in the intervening years. So although some of the references to dated television shows may jar the reader’s temporal sensibilities, the point in each case still gets across very effectively.

The arguments are meticulously constructed, and presented at an easy pace of incremental development that makes reading the book and following the flow of the author’s logic a real pleasure. This book is, without a doubt, the most compelling and persuasive work–on any subject–I’ve read in some time. Ultimately it arms the reader with an acutely critical perspective regarding television and the activity of television viewing, causing her to think twice when reaching for the remote, and to reflect on the motivation for doing so in the first place. We’ve been so conditioned to believe that television viewing is harmless overall, and even offers the benefits of relaxation or access to valuable information, that if we could just address the problems with programming television would be fine. Unfortunately, it happens that none of these is true, and Mander does a great job of explaining why in consistently clear and lucid prose.

So, what about the arguments? To be honest, there is no effective way to paraphrase or distill the work to its “essential points” without completely ignoring much of the text. Because even though the book is divided into four general arguments, each one is based on a hundred or so pages of development, often involving numerous sub-points and sub-theses that form the foundation for later arguments. Instead I will describe the outline of the book and attempt to highlight some of the more important elements.

The arguments are divided into four chapters, titled The Mediation of Experience, The Colonization of Experience, Effects of Television on the Human Being, and The Inherent Biases of Television. I’ll briefly discuss each in turn.

The Mediation of Experience. This chapter consists of three sections titled The
Walling of Awareness, Expropriation of Knowledge, and Adrift in Mental Space. It discusses our increasing detachment and isolation from the natural world, and how technology changes the fundamental contexts in which we live and interact. It describes the growing mediation of existence, where we, instead of actually going places and doing things ourselves, spend more and more time in technologically mediated settings (e.g.- in front of the television) watching other people do these things, or viewing scenes from distant places and news reports about situations that are unrelated to our own experiences, far removed from our own local reality.

Mander discusses our reliance today on the knowledge of “experts” to answer questions
about biology, technology, medicine, physics, astronomy, etc., and how this has made
us dangerously susceptible to suggestion. He argues that we have lost touch with the natural environment due to our increasingly urban, technologically mediated environment. All of this results in perpetuating our reliance on secondary sources, not only for information and knowledge, but also for experience itself.

Anytown, USA. Prime time, Thursday night. Hundreds of thousands of rapt viewers watch a show that spotlights the antics of a group of friends ™ who get together and do lots of fun, wacky things (and very rarely, it seems, watch TV). However, the majority of the viewers themselves are sitting alone in darkened rooms, staring at a glowing box, participating vicariously in the activity of “good times with friends” instead of enjoying the experience themselves. Suppose the cast of Friends spent the 22 or so minutes of each episode quiescent in front of a television set instead of getting together and talking, meeting at the coffee shop, playing sports, confronting issues, etc.? Does anyone believe that ratings wouldn’t plummet with such a format? Yet this is the very activity most viewers are involved in when they tune in and watch. This is what Mander means by “the mediation of experience.”

The chapter concludes with a lengthy bit of analysis that draws some comparisons between the techniques for autocratic control described by Huxley and Orwell–and used by organizations such as est and the Moonies–and those characteristics of television that seem particularly useful for employing them.

The Colonization of Experience. Chapter two begins:


It is no accident that television has been dominated by a handful of corporate powers. Neither is it accidental that television has been used to re-create human
beings into a new form that matches the artificial, commercial environment. A
conspiracy of technological and economic factors made this inevitable and continue
to.

This chapter focuses on how “television and its parent and child, advertising, have contributed to this process of [technological and corporate] concentration, and how it was inevitable from the moment of its invention that television would be used this way.” It deals with how we and our experiences have been appropriated by commercial interests for the sake of boosting profits. It provides a useful discussion of the meaning of the words “value” and “productive” in a business/economic context, explaining in lucid detail how, according to the “capitalist, profit-oriented mind, there is no outrage so great as the existence of some unmediated nook or cranny of creation which has not been converted into a new form that can then be sold for money.”

This is crucial, I think, because it underscores the real essence of how we view natural resources and their intrinsic worth. In the capitalist ideology, so well represented in the corporate-dominated television medium, an uninhabited desert is “nonproductive” until it is mined, irrigated or developed. “A forest of uncut trees is unproductive. Coal or oil that remains in the ground is unproductive. Animals living wildly are unproductive.” He follows with a discussion of the concept of scarcity, also in the business/economic sense, and describes how it is imposed and preserved in the interests of, again, corporate profit.

He then extends the argument to illustrate how the same philosophy drives business to “convert the uncharted internal human wilderness into a form that desires to accumulate commodities,” with the goal being to encourage individual consumption (over collective ownership of goods) and greater dissatisfaction with natural experience and who we are. It serves as a refreshing reminder of the fact that the very best (read: most productive) societal organization from the capitalist perspective would be one in which each of us lives in isolation (certainly in groups no larger than the nuclear family) from one another, sharing nothing and therefore consuming all goods and services at a rate of one-per-consumer, and so thoroughly dissatisfied with ourselves that we seek to re-create ourselves over and over again according to the dictates of each short-lived trend or fad.

The chapter then continues with an explanation of the homogenizing, unifying effect
that television, particularly advertising, has on the viewing public. This aspect of television has continued to come under considerable scrutiny recently by Progressive and Left critics like Richard Barnet and John Cavanagh who point out that “although hundreds of millions of children and teenagers around the world are listening to the same music and watching the same films and videos, globally distributed entertainment products are not creating a positive new global consciousness — other than a widely shared passion for more global goods and vicarious experience.”1 If anything, this situation has only become more dire in the two decades since Mander cautioned us about it.

He follows with a description of how advertisers use television (and other media) to create a “need”–for electric carving knives, feminine deodorant spray, hair dryers–where none existed before. The last section contains some informative (though dated) information on the remarkable concentration and centralization of media interests in this country. Things were bleak when Mander was doing his own research for the book in the mid-1970s, but since then things have gotten far worse. Today fewer than ten media conglomerates dominate U.S. media. The five largest–with annual sales between $10 and $25 billion–are News Corporation, Time Warner, Disney, Viacom and TCI.2 This lamentable consolidation of media power into even fewer hands is taking place during a period of unprecedented acquiescence by the FCC, who recently gave away $70 billion dollars of public broadcast spectrum to private broadcasters for HDTV, and who are at this moment working to implement the 1996 Telecommunications Act, which will remove all current limits on media ownership. This means that not only will we have very little choice among viewing and programming options, but also that we will lose the power to regulate the very organizations that make these choices for us.

Effects of Television on the Human Being. This chapter focus on the psychological
and physiological effects of television on viewers. Often complaining about the dearth of information available on the subject, and the difficulties this presented in the course of his conducting research for the book, Mander addresses issues such as the effects of television lightwaves on the human body, how television deadens perception and suppresses neural activity, affects sleep cycles, narrows focus, reduces sensory stimulation, and more.

He presents a compelling argument that television viewing leads to hyperactivity
See www.adbusters.organd Attention Deficit Disorder among children. The findings presented in this section are particularly important today when pharmaceutical companies have convinced so many parents that the real cure for these “conditions” is liberal doses of Ritalin®. The very fact that parents would be willing to serve as accomplices in the drugging and addicting of their children is, at the very least, a sad commentary on the almost complete absence of publicly available scientific data concerning the physiological impact on children of hours of daily TV viewing. But I suppose it would be absurd to expect much televised commentary or reporting critical of the medium itself, so people who get most of their news and information from television would likely never have access to such information. Based on the most recent surveys, that works out to about sixty percent of the population.

Mander concludes the section with some very disturbing facts about how television viewing can make viewers extremely susceptible to suggestion, noting, for example, the similarities in brainwave activity between TV viewers and people who have been placed in a hypnotic trance. Finally, he discusses how the images we accept into our minds, whether from television or any other source, remain there and may influence us–our perceptions, behavior, etc.–until the day we die.

This chapter was the most troubling for me because it contained so much information
that was entirely new to me. Anyone who’s read Neil Postman or other well-known critics of
television is probably familiar with the dangers generally associated with television viewing. But many of the physiological effects that Mander reveals seem to exist somewhere outside the realm of public discourse and general knowledge. Even the reader who considers Mander’s data with skepticism would have to acknowledge that the subject itself–the physical effects of TV viewing–has received very little attention in the decades since the introduction of this now-pervasive technology.

Finally, in The Inherent Biases of Television, Mander turns his attention to many of the biases, limitations, and shortcomings intrinsic to the technology itself. This chapter draws on each of those which preceded it to argue that television actually is unreformable, that the medium itself is fundamentally biased toward the crude, the loud, the fuzzy, the simple, and the superficial, to name but a few characteristics.

In my favorite section of this chapter, Artificial Unusualness, Mander describes how producers exploit the technology to fixate the attention of viewers on vacuous content that might otherwise quickly become excruciatingly dull and unappealing. He explains how the excessive use of “technical events”–scene changes, zooms, voice-overs, fades, etc.–conspires to keep the viewer in a state of rapt attentiveness, luring him ever forward “like a mechanical rabbit teasing a greyhound.” If producers chose not to use these “technical tricks,” Mander argues, viewers might actually become aware of boredom, and perhaps even get up and do something else–go for a walk, talk to friend on the phone, read a book, whatever–which would result in the failure of producers to accomplish their primary objective: delivering viewers (that’s you and me, folks) to advertisers.

He concludes this section with Thirty-three Miscellaneous Inherent Biases, a sampling of which follows:

  • Violence in better TV than non-violence.

  • Religions with charismatic leaders such as Billy Graham, Jesus Christ, Reverend Moon, Maharishi or L. Ron Hubbard are far simpler to handle on television that leaderless or nature-based religions like Zen Buddhism, Christian Science, American Indians, or druidism, or, for that matter, atheism. Single, all-powerful gods, or individual godlike figures are simpler to describe because they have highly defined characteristics. Nature-based religions are dependent upon a gestalt of human feeling and perceptual exchanges with the planet. To be presented on television, they would need to be too simplified to retain meaning.

  • Political movements with single charismatic leaders are also more suitable and efficient for television. When a movement has no leader or focus, television needs to create one. Mao is easier to transmit than Chinese communism. Chavez is better television than farm workers. Hitler is easier to convey than fascism.

  • Superficiality is easier than depth.

  • Short subjects with beginnings and ends re easier to transmit than extended and multifaceted information. The conclusion is simpler than the process.

  • Feelings of conflict, and their embodiment in action, work better on television than feelings of agreement, and their embodiment in calm and unity. Conflict is outward, agreement is inward, and so the former is more visible than the latter.

  • Competition is inherently more televisable than cooperation as it involves drama, winning, wanting and loss. Cooperation offers no conflict and becomes boring.

  • The bizarre always get more attention on television than the usual.

  • The business relationship to natural landscapes as resources is easier to present than the Indian relationship to nature as the source of being.

Mander concludes the book with a brief section titled Impossible Thoughts, some ruminations on the viability of eliminating television and some final arguments on why he thinks doing so could only be in our best interests.

 

Finishing the book, and having read the hope-filled reviews by authors like Earnest Callenbach saying “…Mander could turn out to be the David who slew the unbeatable media Goliath,” one can’t help but feel a sense of optimism for the growth of a new awareness that could arise among we First Worlders, a newfound recognition of the real dangers of mental passivity, unbridled consumerism, and the key roles played by television and media in promoting both. One can’t help but think that this is just the kind of compelling, accessible, and rationale treatise on the subject that could foster a real transformation in our society, a move toward more proactive approaches to the execution of politics, civic responsibility, and our own lives.

And then you remember that Four Arguments was published over twenty years ago, and since then things have only gotten worse. Consumerism is rampant. Television is more than pervasive, it’s ubiquitous. More than ever before we are using technology and media–especially television–to export American culture overseas and spread the Gospel of Free Markets, excessive and conspicuous consumption, and style over substance. If Mander’s wake up call fell on deaf ears then, what hope is there that people will pay attention today?

It’s my guess that a lot of factors conspired to limit the exposure of Four Arguments when it was originally published. He refused to do the talk show circuit or otherwise promote the book on television. Distribution channels were sharply limited, as was his promotional budget, I’m sure. In other words, I doubt that a significant, meaningful portion of the population has ever heard of the book, much less read it.

And that’s why I’m here.

I’m here to tell you that there are some real problems with television, and if you happen to watch a lot of television chances are very good that you are aware of only a fraction of them. It is my firmly held conviction that too much (i.e.- daily) television viewing leads to: ignorance, susceptibility to political manipulation, apathy, lethargy, ignorance, poor health, loss of analytical skills, poor dietary habits, skewed perceptions, social retardation, ignorance, reduced attention span, low self-esteem, hyperactivity and diminished sensitivity to, well, most anything.

If you want to know why I think television viewing leads to these things, I suggest you read, for starters, Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television. If you’re not one to read books, yet somehow find plenty of time for TV watching, I suggest you read the book as the first step to reclaiming your life. In fact, just read the book. If you’ve read it before, read it again. It has plenty to offer the second time around.

 
 


 

Since you’ve already got an Internet connection, the easiest way to procure a copy of the book is to order it online at Amazon.com. Your local bookstore probably has a few copies as well.

Finally, here are some informative links on the subject of television, such as this one that features some TV statistics and this report on TV and Health, both courtesy of TV-Free America. You may also want to check out the White Dot web site.

 
 

Works Cited

 

1 Barnet, Richard, and John Cavanagh. “Homogenization of Global Culture.” In The Case Against the Global Economy, ed. Jerry Mander and Edward Goldsmith. San Francisco: Sierra Club Books, 1996.

2 McChesney, Robert. Corporate Media and the Threat to Democracy. New York: Seven Stoies Press, 1997.

 
 

Newer posts

© 2024 電武士

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑