Surprise! I bet no one saw this post coming. Timely, too, as Netflix just revealed it was in very early talks with show runners about the possibility of producing more episodes as a follow up to last fall's "A Year in the Life." Let's just say the news has me cautiously optimistic, considering I liked but didn't love the Netflix limited series but thought it showed promise. The original Gilmore Girls series that ran on network television from 2000-2007, on the other hand, is one I absolutely adore.
For the uninitiated, Gilmore Girls follows the story of single-mom Lorelei Gilmore and her daughter, Rory, in the fictional yet enchantingly quirky small town of Stars Hollow, Connecticut. When the series starts, Rory learns she's been accepted to Chilton, a private New England school that all but assures her Ivy League college dreams will come true. Faced with the high rate of Chilton's tuition and a lack of money, Lorelei turns to her rich, socialite parents, Emily and Richard, for financial assistance. Asking for help proves difficult for Lorelei, as the relationship between her and her parents is rocky at best. Still, she swallows her pride to improve Rory's future and agrees to a loan requiring Lorelei and Rory to attend weekly Friday night dinners with Emily and Richard until which time the loan is paid off. Over the ensuing seven seasons, Lorelei and Rory attend many lively Friday night dinners, exchange quick-fire banter laced with obscure pop culture references, fall in and out of love numerous times, and exceed and fall short of their own expectations as well as those placed on them by others. Throughout the entire time, the Gilmore girls traverse the tricky waters of high school, starting a business, and going to college, all while surrounded and supported by a bevy of eccentric townspeople. As much as I adore Gilmore Girls, I cannot honestly say it led to some revelation about my sense of self or my life's journey. I simply love the show and consider it a close second in all-time rank behind The Wonder Years. What became clear as I embarked on my Countdown to 40 quest, however, was just how much Gilmore Girls really serves as a conglomeration of all the best qualities of the other shows I've written posts about. (Save Game of Thrones, that is. I got nothing on similarities with that series, though I'm sure Lorelei and Rory talked about it during the revival episodes.) I think I started realizing the similarities between Gilmore Girls and other shows when I wrote about Northern Exposure earlier in the project. Like that show and Pushing Daisies, Gilmore Girls takes place in a small town populated by some of the quirkiest characters and stories on television. In many ways, Gilmore Girls is also a coming-of-age tale like The Wonder Years, though the process is not limited to Rory navigating late adolescence. Lorelei, Emily, Richard, and several additional supporting characters undergo significant growth, too. One likeness I often used when the show originally aired was to Will & Grace. The endless one-liners and lightning-fast repartee exchanged between Gilmore Girls characters echo those traded between Will, Grace, Jack, and Karen, pop-culture references included. On that note, the whip-smart scripts and their flawless delivery by the actors similarly liken Gilmore Girls to The West Wing, too. And, at its heart, Gilmore Girls offers a very clear message similar to the one practically introduced by The Mary Tyler Moore Show and reproduced by Sex and the City: The outdated paradigm of defining women through men no longer applies to characters like Lorelei and Rory Gilmore. They represent strong, intelligent women who work hard and achieve their goals independent of men. Sure, they have men in their lives, but their lives are not singularly focused on those men. Nor do they succeed solely because of men. In fact, anything the men of Stars Hollow can do, I'm confident Lorelei and Rory can do better. So, Gilmore Girls reigns as one of my favorite shows by being all of my favorite shows at once, wrapped into sometimes neat, sometimes messy, 45-minute packages.
0 Comments
I teetered back and forth between Band of Brothers and Saving Private Ryan for the focus of today's post, ultimately settling on the HBO miniseries for its sheer magnitude and undeniable role in propelling me to pursue a graduate degree in history (and despite my general estimation of Steven Spielberg's 1998 World War 2 magnum opus as one of the greatest films ever made).
I knew about the critically acclaimed Band of Brothers miniseries well before I ever saw it, largely thanks to Entertainment Weekly. The magazine's coverage and reviews intensified my overall interest, already piqued by the comparisons made to Saving Private Ryan. Without access to HBO, though, I waited to watch Band of Brothers until I found a deal for the boxset I couldn't pass up. DVDs in hand, I binged my way through all ten episodes in a matter of days, and to say the series surpassed my expectations would be an understatement. In fact, Band of Brothers made such an impression that when I rewatched the series again a year or so later, it motivated me to finally start the process of obtaining my Masters degree in History, something I had been stewing over for years. Based on the work of historian Stephen Ambrose, Band of Brothers depicts World War 2 from boot camp to war's end through the eyes of the US Army 101st Airborne's Easy Company. Throughout the series, viewers witness the company's involvement in such momentous events as D-Day, the Battle of the Bulge, and the liberation of a concentration camp. In fact, the image above comes from episode nine, "Why We Fight," which deals with Easy Company's discovery and subsequent liberation of a Nazi Concentration Camp and represents one of the most heart-wrenching hours of programming ever to air on television. Not surprisingly, a strong bond of brotherhood develops between company members based on the intensity of their shared experiences over the course of the war, not unlike the kind identified by the character of Upham in Saving Private Ryan. And while Spielberg's war film certainly introduces the idea, the miniseries format allows Band of Brothers to expand on the groundwork laid by Ryan, flesh out a broader cast of characters, and incorporate recollections from surviving Easy Company veterans. Brothers therefore provides audiences with a much more intimate glimpse of what the war was like for soldiers fighting in Europe. If you've been keeping up with my Countdown to 40 blog, my fascination with World War 2 does not come as a surprise, and I can think of two specific reasons why the it interests me so much. First, as I recounted in my post about Schindler's List, the Holocaust and its socio-political repercussions in Germany raised several historical questions for me, ones I eventually explored in grad school using films like Downfall. The second reason, one I have not yet shared, relates to my grandfather. Like many people my age and around the world, my grandparents lived through the war. And like many men of his generation, my mother's father fought in the war. I was not yet fifteen when my grandfather passed away, and I often regret not learning more about his wartime experiences. That's not to say I am completely without knowledge of his time in the Navy. When putting together a video memorial of my grandfather's life shortly after his death, my older sister and I came across a set of letters he and my grandmother exchanged during that time. Based on what my relatives told me, I also learned that Grandpa returned from the war a changed man, one who no longer believed in the existence of God. Taken as a whole, that pretty much sums up what I know about my grandfather's wartime perspective. Of course, given the intense nature of such experiences, perhaps he wouldn't have wanted to talk about them with me. Nevertheless, I still wish I would have asked him, and I think things like Band of Brothers and Saving Private Ryan offer a way for me to imagine the war through Grandpa's eyes. And maybe, just maybe, my desire to know the world and time of my grandparents better was the real impetus behind initiating my graduate studies. Strictly speaking, the Academy Awards do not fit into the categories I set out to explore in my Countdown to 40 blog, not in the traditional sense anyway. About movies but not a movie, on television but not a series, they celebrate the year’s best movies in an annual ceremony telecast live, with celebrities and other members of the film industry parading their fashion hits and misses on the red carpet as they prepare to honor their peers’ work. Yes, the Academy Awards sometimes seem to exist for the sole purpose of stroking the egos of the rich and famous. Yes, they are self-indulgent and superfluous, often focusing on pageantry rather than substance. Yes, they often overlook many of the year’s most artful and boundary-pushing films and performances in favor of more mainstream, self-congratulatory pats on the back. But then they also get things right once in a while and open my eyes to many wonderful films I may not have encountered otherwise. On top of that, they serve as a yearly reason to gather family and friends together to bask in the glow of Hollywood’s stars. (Or is that the glow of the TV?) And I love every minute of it.
The first Oscars broadcast I recall experiencing aired in the spring of 1989 and honored films released in 1988. I sat on the sofa that evening, taking in all of the glitz, glamour, and glory. I watched the numerous clips of movies and performances in awe, many of which I was previously unfamiliar with. One in particular, Gorillas in the Mist, always comes to mind when thinking back on my inaugural Academy Awards telecast. The film earned five nominations, including one for Sigourney Weaver’s portrayal of naturalist Dian Fossey. The repeated mention of the movie compelled me to rent the video and more than likely shaped my preconceptions of what an award-caliber performance should look like. That the film and Weaver’s performance did not disappoint only solidified the Oscars as my most-trusted source of cinematic suggestions prior to Entertainment Weekly. Amid the pomp and circumstance of the show itself and the expansion of my film awareness, my preteen penchant for ranking a few of my favorite things went into overdrive. I mean, what are the Academy Awards if not an ultra-glamorous best-of list, where the nominees represent the runners-up to the recipients crowned the year’s greatest? To put it mildly, the Oscars cast a spell on me that spring, nurturing my love of movies and establishing the tradition of tuning into the ceremony every year thereafter. After that fateful spring night, my fondness for the Academy Awards only grew stronger. In the early 1990s, I created my own awards for movies modeled on the Oscars called the Golden Film Awards. Initially, I selected all of the nominees and winners myself, but over time I invited my friends and family to participate by voting for their favorites among nominations still provided by me. Once in college, the Academy Awards telecast truly became an event—especially after The English Patient, one of my favorite films that did not quite make the Countdown to 40 list, took home the night’s big prize in 1997 (for 1996). Each subsequent year, I challenged myself to see all the films nominated for Best Picture prior to the broadcast (haven’t achieved that goal yet) and check out several of the more obscure titles introduced to me during the show. (Achievement unlocked!) Somewhere along the road I started hosting Oscar parties. After all, there’s nothing like the Academy Awards to bring movie-lovers together. Over time the parties became more elaborate, adding rounds of Oscar-related trivia to the Predict the Winners game, complete with movie-themed prizes for attendees who score highest in each game. This year, we even booked a venue for the event, where the signature cocktail will be the Bourbon Streep in honor of the one and only Meryl. It’s no wonder I look forward to Oscar Sunday every year and often refer to it as my second favorite holiday after Christmas. When people ask what my favorite television show is, I do not hesitate to answer--it's The Wonder Years. It has been ever since I first started watching the show when it originally aired on TV in the late 1980s and early 1990s.
For those unfamiliar, The Wonder Years follows the coming-of-age story of Kevin Arnold as he maneuvers adolescence between 1968 and 1973, some of the most tumultuous and socially turbulent years in American history. Told through one long flashback, the adult Kevin narrates his memories of growing up during those years, recalling the most important events and feelings of his formative years. Throughout the process, Kevin falls in and out of love with his neighbor, Winnie Cooper, while relying on the support and of his best friend, Paul Pfeiffer. He struggles to establish his identity and assert himself within the framework of his post-war, suburban family life, often butting heads with his dad, Jack, and older brother, Wayne. His older sister, Karen, represented much of the social upheaval occurring at the time as she fell in with the hippie crowd, protested the Vietnam War, and generally challenged the constraints of the patriarchal society. I connected with the show on multiple levels. The Wonder Years spoke to my burgeoning interest in 20th century American history while also reflecting my own stage of development--I was approximately the same age as adolescent Kevin and aged right along with him. Despite the twenty year difference, many of my own coming-of-age experiences mirrored those he faced, and I wanted to be Kevin Arnold--I even had a little prepubescent crush on Winnie Cooper for a while. I often found gym class awkward and degrading, much the same as Kevin, and I knew how it felt to skirt the edges of junior and senior high school cliques, never really fitting into a certain one but not entirely outcast from any but the jocks. I also understood needing best friends to help navigate the awkwardness and tricky situations that define what it means to be a teenager. It's a funny thing, growing up and going through high school. I always considered those years as the most challenging, not really fitting in anywhere or knowing myself until I graduated and moved on to college. While much of that remains true and though I would not like to go back and relive my teenage years, I realize now more than ever (largely because of this Countdown to 40 project) so much of my sense of self formed during those years. And perhaps that's another reason why The Wonder Years has stuck with me all this time, for as the final lines of the series finale perfectly convey: "Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you're in diapers, the next day you're gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a place, a town, a house, like a lot of houses. A yard like a lot of other yards. On a street like a lot of other streets. And the thing is, after all these years, I still look back... with wonder." If I am being totally honest with you, Will & Grace almost didn't make my Countdown to 40 list. I initially thought it would be all too cliché to pick a show that very clearly spotlights members of the gay community, living in New York City no less. I figured people would read the post and think to themselves, "well, that was an obvious and easy choice." Except, settling on Will & Grace proved anything but obvious and easy for me, and until today, this post was set to focus on The Mary Tyler Moore Show.
As my good friend Erin can attest to, I waffled on which of the two television shows to write about as late as this afternoon and struggled to explain why The Mary Tyler Moore Show and not Will & Grace should be today's feature item. Yes, The Mary Tyler Moore Show was groundbreaking for centering on a single woman establishing a career as well as an identity independent of men, marriage, and children. Mary Tyler Moore's character of Mary Richards confronted several tricky topics in addition to gender roles, like abortion, sex, divorce, and homosexuality...during the 1970s. In so doing, the show truly challenged many of the social norms of the time and helped change the definition of what it meant to be a woman, all while setting a gold standard for television sitcoms. Quite revolutionary, if you ask me. When you think about it, Will & Grace followed much the same revolutionary trail blazed by The Mary Tyler Moore Show. At a time when more and more people were confronting and struggling with the reality of homosexuality, either their own or that of gay family and friends around them, Will & Grace featured two out men, one as a title character. This groundbreaking concept was made all the more groundbreaking by the show's portrayal of Will as a normal, down-to-earth, guy-next-door type. Through the complicated but entirely relatable (and often times hilarious) relationships between Will, his straight BFF Grace, his gay BFF Jack, and his drunk BFF Karen, the show helped to normalize homosexuality and gay people, thereby challenging society's stereotypes of what it meant to be gay. Neither Will nor Jack were creepy, perverted guys who lived on the fringes of society, mired in drugs and sex. Instead, they lived rather mundane lives, just like everyone else around them, trying to find the perfect balance between work, life, and relationships, with one another as well as their significant others. As a young man coming out, I very much needed Will & Grace and its humorous brand of normalizing the lives of gay people, for I felt alone during the early stages of accepting my own homosexuality. Of all the people in my life at that time, I knew no other members of the GLBTQ community and therefore had no one in my inner circles who really understood what I was going through or what was in store for me. I had my friends and family, of course, who surrounded me with nothing but love and acceptance, and I will be eternally thankful for that. (We all know the heart-breaking and horrible realities many people of all ages face after sharing the most beautiful and honest truth about themselves.) What Will & Grace helped offer me to supplement the love and support of family and friends was permission to accept my homosexuality as simply a part of who I was but not solely who I was. After all, I was still the same son. The same brother. The same friend. The same uncle. The same cousin. The same nephew. The same grandson. The same college graduate. The same Janet Jackson fan. The same lover of Christmas and snow. The same connoisseur of popcorn. The same Chris. Actually, acknowledging and accepting my homosexuality as just another part of myself made me a better, truer, stronger Chris. So, at the end of the day, my own life experiences and path of self-discovery connected more with Will & Grace than with The Mary Tyler Moore Show, no matter how much I love them both. I jumped aboard the Sex and the City bandwagon late, only ever watching it on DVD after the final season aired on HBO. I knew the show's stellar reputation, as it frequently appeared on year-end best lists and garnered numerous awards throughout its six-season run. Not subscribing to HBO, though, meant I had no easy access to the show and therefore could not watch it. And before ever seeing a single episode, I simply could not understand the hysteria surrounding Sex and the City, at least not initially. It was well before streaming movies and television series was a thing, after all. Still, the critical hype piqued my interest, increased all the more when one of my good friends, Carrie, highly recommended the show to me.
The question then became, how does one gain access to a premium-channel show without the premium channel or an option to stream? Through DVD, of course. The early 2000s saw the rise of entire seasons of television shows on DVD and even if Netflix has now become synonymous with binge-watching, the modern phenomenon truly started with TV on DVD. So, one year I asked my parents for Sex and the City on DVD for Christmas, ultimately receiving the first two seasons as a gift. That same year I felt a little under the weather at Christmastime, not thinking much of it, especially considering I seemed to feel better within a couple of days. Fast forward a week to New Year's Eve, however, and suddenly it became clear that whatever illness I contracted was not done with me. Before long I felt the sickest I remember ever feeling in my life. What started as a sniffle turned into the worst possible sinus infection one could imagine. I spent New Year's Eve lying in bed, scared to move for fear of throwing up. Even rolling to one side while in bed caused severe nausea. The only way I could manage the dizziness and prevent vomiting was by lying perfectly still, and provided I did so, I actually felt fine. I could eat. I could drink. I could read. I could watch TV. I could play video games. The problem arose when I readjusted my position or needed to use the bathroom, and even sitting up in bed made me ill. I survived the bout of intensely debilitating sickness, clearly, but not without the help of some very generous people. My parents suggested I try eating a banana and drinking some gatorade as a way to restore my potassium balance, replenish my electrolytes, and rehydrate my body, all of which they thought could be culprits. My roommate at the time, Kara, and her new beau, Bailey, made sure I was okay and brought me some bananas and gatorade to try, though I felt as if they were suspicious of my illness--primarily because it was just so strange. After a full day in bed and feeling no better, another of my good friends, Allison, responded to my call for help and drove me to urgent care. Imagine, if you will, being so off-kilter that rolling over in bed caused so much dizziness that the only way your body knew how to react was by throwing up. Then imagine having to get into a car. Allison, my brave friend, managed to get me to urgent care, albeit with my arms wrapped around a bucket for the entire ride to and from the doctor's visit. Luckily enough, I had been so sick over the past 24 hours nothing was left in my digestive system to empty. Turns out I had contracted a very nasty sinus infection, most likely a hold out from the cold I had the week before. My orders were to lay low so as not to upset my equilibrium much, drink lots of water to cure my severe dehydration, take prescription-strength dramamine to help ease the nausea, and let my body take care of the rest. Over my days of recovery, I longed for something to keep my mind off of being sick. My good friends Kara, Bailey, Allison, and Dianna, another life-long friend made during my time at the University of Minnesota Duluth, helped with that by dropping by, hanging out, and checking in on me. With more free time on my hands than my friends had to give, I turned to my newly-acquired Sex and the City DVDs. It did not take long for me to see why the show had earned so many kudos, and soon Kara and I were hooked. Together, we binge-watched the entire series, instantly drawn to the comedy, romance, and drama of it all while also connecting to the power of great friendships as portrayed by the show's main characters, Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha. We zipped through the first two seasons with lightning speed, and yearning for more, I purchased the remaining seasons on DVD so we could finish what we started. By the very last episode of season six, I knew I had discovered another all-time favorite television show. Filled with humor, romance, drama, and heartbreak, Sex and the City proved immediately engrossing and infinitely watchable. Over the subsequent years, the show quickly became my most-watched, having seen it in its entirety several times. Even now I return to the show every summer, for like the good friends who took care of me while I was at my most sick, Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha never let me down. Being that today is Valentine's Day, I wanted my Countdown to 40 post to focus on what I love most in life, my husband, family, and friends. Based on the title and image above, you thought I was going to say Ina Garten or Barefoot Contessa, didn't you? Not quite, but she, her television show on the Food Network, and her cookbooks symbolize that love on many levels.
One of my favorite ways to connect with those I love most is through cooking and sharing food, my fondness for which started young. I enjoyed watching my mom and dad cook for our family and helped whenever I could (and they would let me). With great happiness, I remember my family gathering around the table almost every evening to share at least one meal. My brother, sister, and I may have spent the afternoon playing nicely, arguing, picking fights, avoiding each other, or forming and changing alliances faster than the cast of Big Brother, but we always came together for supper. Even when I was a teenager and generally couldn’t be bothered to do much else with them, I still counted on seeing the family at dinner time. Food nourished our bodies, minds, and souls while also building that sense of community that only sharing a meal can provide. When I left for college right after high school, my world turned upside down (in a good way). Gone were the comforts of home and the safety of having family in close proximity for protection and support. I was therefore forced to truly become my own person for the first time in my life. As scary as that may seem, though, everyone else starting college with me was in the exact same situation. We reached out for those who shared a semblance of similarity in interests, personality, and location – often times over a meal. Before long, I had established a new family consisting of wonderful people, most of whom remain my close friends today. Like at home with my traditional family, mealtime served to strengthen the bonds of our burgeoning collegiate family. I would often call up one or more of my new friends with the sole purpose of getting together for lunch or dinner, furthering my love for food and all the joy it can bring. In the years since graduating from college, I have become much more culinarily curious as my palette has evolved and my network of family and friends grows. Trying new foods, cuisines, and restaurants provides not only great sensory experiences but also a wealth of inspiration. Additionally, I continue finding ever more joy from cooking something that brings together friends and family. Perhaps the largest source of inspiration for my culinary adventures, though, stems from my fondness for the Food Network and its celebrity chefs. For more than a decade I've tuned into the basic cable station for comfort, entertainment, and fresh ideas. In particular, I grew to enjoy cooking shows hosted by Alton Brown, Giada De Laurentiis, Bobby Flay, Anne Burrell, Alex Guarnaschelli, Ree Drummond, Trisha Yearwood, and, for a time, Paula Deen. My favorite, however, always was and remains Ina Garten and her show, Barefoot Contessa. When I met Bryce in the fall of 2009, my affinity for the Food Network and Barefoot Contessa was already well established. Like most new couples, we spent many an hour over the course of our first few dates talking about all of our passions and interests. We quickly discovered our mutual adoration for great food and drinks, new restaurant experiences, the Food Network, and Ina Garten, of course. She clearly surrounded herself with a host of fabulous gay men, and we both talked about our dream of joining her inner circle. Additionally, her call for the use of "really good" ingredients, like vanilla and olive oil, struck us both as evidence of her wealthy East Hampton lifestyle, one we both admired and envied. And her complete and utter love for her husband, Jeffrey, inspired us. As our relationship deepened, our idolization of Ina Garten continued. We recorded each new episode of her show, being sure to watch it together. When she popped up as a guest on the early seasons of The Next Food Network Star, we made sure to tune in. We also took turns presenting one another with each new Barefoot Contessa cookbook, highlighting new recipes we wanted to try and annotating the inside cover with little love notes equating our love with the love shared between Ina and Jeffrey. So, for me, the Barefoot Contessa symbolizes much more than my love of food and cooking. She, her show, and her cookbooks symbolize the life Bryce and I have built together as well as our mutual love for one another, from the earliest days of our relationship up until now. To imitate Ina's practice of asking rhetorical questions, how great is that? Confession: I have not read a single novel in George R. R. Martin's Game of Thrones series, though not for a want of trying. Over the past couple of years, I opened the first ebook on my Kindle multiple times, read a few chapters, and promptly moved on to another book or issue of Entertainment Weekly. Months later I'd pick up my Kindle and repeat the whole cycle from start to finish, never venturing more than a chapter or two further than before. Martin's books have simply been unable to pull me in despite my general interest in the fantasy genre.
The adaptation of Game of Thrones for television, on the other hand, proved a completely different story altogether. My husband, Bryce, and I jumped on the bandwagon rather late and started watching the series while HBO aired season five for the first time. Friends and family members remarked how excited they were for us, wishing they could go back and experience the show from its beginning, too. I quickly grew to understand why they felt that way. The captivating characters and absorbing narratives drew us into the engrossing fantasy world almost immediately, and we devoured the first two seasons in a matter of weeks. The intensity of season two forced us to take a short break, but less than a month later, we found ourselves delving into season three on our quest to catch up in time for the April 2016 season six premiere. Why so quickly? Partly because of the show itself, which compels audiences to binge watch, but mostly because of good friends in our current hometown. During our marathon viewing of the first five seasons, Bryce and I discovered several in our friend circle were also hooked on the series. We soon decided in the months leading up to the season six premiere that we should take turns hosting viewing parties and watch the new episodes together. Sometimes we'd start Sunday evenings with dinner beforehand, other times we arrived just as the show got underway, enjoying simple snacks and beverages. Regardless, not a week went by without lively debate and discussion about what happened, what might happen in the next episode, and what the episode could mean for the story further down the road. We'd share our reactions to the episode's most surprising twists and turns, introduce new theories based on observations or outside research, and summarily reject theories we posited in the weeks before. Game of Thrones has become, therefore, more than a show--it is an experience and a weekly highlight. And while I find the portrayal of Martin's characters, kingdoms, and storylines enthralling, what I love so much about the show is how we now share it with friends. You might think that after a fall into the Game of Thrones universe so deep and complete I would be able to move forward in the books. Unfortunately for me, that still has not been the case. One day, perhaps I'll finish the first book and tackle the subsequent volumes. For now, I'm content to immerse myself in the TV version, and I very much look forward to restarting our weekly viewing parties when season seven starts later this year. In today's political climate, when division and refusal to compromise reign supreme, I long for the idealism of Jed Bartlet and his administration. Yes, I realize full well The West Wing fictionalized the president and his staff from a left-leaning perspective, but they managed to hold steadfast to the tenets of their ideology while recognizing the need to reach across party lines and allow for some give and take when necessary. Politicians on the show may not have agreed on every issue, in fact they often argued vociferously over contentious points, yet they listened to one another instead of speaking at and over one another. Believe it or not, they actually tried to understand where each other was coming from, an approach that would be all too welcome in 2017.
Regardless of which side of the political fence you fall on, such empathy and patience would be refreshing, wouldn't it? We citizens of this planet really are not all that different, needing clean air to breathe, nutritious food to eat, and sufficient shelter to protect us. Sometime over the last decade or so, though, we Americans seem to have lost any sense of common ground as we transitioned from championing compromise and civil discourse to demonizing both as character flaws or worse--as flat out weaknesses. Instead, our society celebrates rigidity and considers sticking to your guns, no mater what, a sign of strength. It's as if backing down from an argument, acknowledging the validity of someone else's perspective, and/or admitting when one is in the wrong somehow equates to failure. Perhaps superhero movies are to blame, which until recently perpetuated the falsehood that life fits nicely into good versus evil. Or maybe the end of the Cold War challenged how we think of right versus wrong. The impossible dichotomy of one over the other, however, fails to take into consideration the existence of any variables, and variables persist in every place, time, and situation. Resident of the United States versus Thailand? Variable. Born in 1977 versus 2017? Variable. Learned to speak German instead of Spanish? Variable. Learned to speak both German and Spanish? Variable. Born gay rather than straight? Variable. Identify as Christian and not Buddhist? Variable. Grew up in Minnesota versus Texas? Variable. Life exists in and endless set of variables, and so it ends up somewhere along the hard-to-define spectrum between good and evil, right and wrong. Life fills that murky space between two inadequately defined binary opposites, no matter how you describe them. Just like no two people share the same fingerprints, no two people share the same life experiences. That also means no two people fit perfectly into a neatly arranged box that conforms to the expectations of society. Growing up in the historically "blue" state of Minnesota, you might think the roots of my liberalism formed there, and in many ways, they did. After all, I grew up and spent much of my life in the land of MPR and A Prairie Home Companion. Still, conservatism surrounded me living in rural Minnesota, and I don't mean that negatively or as something I am ashamed of, it was simply a fact of life. I could see and feel the very real tension between urban and rural America that has since come to dominate much of our national dialogue, particularly when my small-town high school invited students from a high school in the Twin Cities for a symposium on diversity. Some parents were so upset by this that they kept their kids home from school that day, a decision and form of protest I could not understand. When news of the reason behind student absences spread through the school well before our guests arrived, all I could think about was how those teenagers would feel if they found out. It saddened me, and I made it a point to attend as many of those sessions as I could and make those students feel welcome. Nevertheless, we remain almost singularly focused on Republican or Democrat, Left or Right, Liberal or Conservative. All of those political qualifiers are labels we identify with, not labels we need in order to identify ourselves. Still, our culture demands that we choose one over the other, and I can honestly say that I considered myself a Republican for much of my adolescent years, primarily because that's the political party I thought my parents preferred. Things started to change for me after I traveled to Germany during my senior year of high school. Walking down the streets of a city more than an ocean away, I began to see my life as smaller and less significant. I discovered I wasn't so special, in the grand scheme of things. Suddenly, the world outside my small hometown and everyone in it felt less anonymous and remote, and I felt ignorant and naive. Leaving home for college and striking out on my own afterwards only intensified those feelings. I had a difficult time connecting with and defining my changing political views. Until I discovered The West Wing, that is. An instant fan of the show's whip-smart banter and unconventional narrative style, I saw my personal beliefs reflected more and more in the characters of Bartlet, CJ Cregg, Bradley Whitford, Toby Ziegler, Donna Moss, Leo McGarry, Josh Lyman, Sam Seaborn, and Charlie Young. A personal highlight of mine is the season premiere episode Aaron Sorkin and the series' creators ran in the fall of 2001 following 9/11. In the episode, the White House deftly confronts the very real threat of terrorism without equating entire countries, regions, or religions as blanket terrorists. (Remember the variables thing I mentioned earlier? This particular episode tackled the issue honestly by portraying a certain amount of natural tension, fear, and uncertainty and not allowing that tension, fear, and uncertainty to cloud the judgment of characters and transform into unwarranted prejudice.) While The West Wing certainly did not turn me into a liberal as this post might imply, the show helped me to better define my own political leanings and beliefs and recognize not everyone thinks the same way--and that's okay. Well before the off-beat and quirky Pushing Daisies aired its first episode, the comparably off-beat and quirky Northern Exposure pulled me into the eccentric world of Cicely, Alaska. The show's charmingly idiosyncratic characters and often-time bizarre episodes quickly endeared themselves to me, and before long I found myself tuning into the series regularly. On a side note, I might be detecting a pattern among my most cherished television shows emerging here, one that I had not previously considered. Along with Pushing Daisies and Northern Exposure, at least one other television series TBA in my Countdown to 40 shares these exact descriptors, too. A couple notable favorites not on the countdown fit the same mold as well, like Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt and 30 Rock. Things that make you go hmmmm.
Anyway, back to the show at hand. For those of you unfamiliar with the wonder and awesomeness that is Northern Exposure, the 1990-1995 series centers on Dr. Joel Fleischman, who, upon graduation from medical school in New York City, gets placed as the resident doctor for a tiny Alaskan town. Provided he successfully fulfills his agreement to the town of Cicely, his medical degree will be paid for. Of course, Joel finds the transition rather difficult, and he struggles adjusting to his new home, remote as it is, and his new neighbors, weird as they are. Where can he find a bagel? How do people get into town? How do they get out? None of the backward, uneducated locals could possibly understand his worldly, cosmopolitan, and highly-educated perspective or refined tastes. (Sounds prescient considering our current political atmosphere and the increasingly bitter conflict between urban and rural America, doesn't it?) The truly peculiar townspeople, for the most part, graciously accept Joel into their fold, despite the Empire State Building-sized chip on his shoulder and his abrasively stereotypical New York personality. Their genuine concern for the doctor's well-being coupled with their immense pride in their hometown eventually breaks Joel's guard down, and Cicely becomes his home, too. During the process, some truly bizarre episodes take place--ones that have stuck with me for the past 20 years. There's one in which the local DJ, Chris Stevens (played by John Corbett), hoists a grand piano several stories into the air with a crane, only to drop it crashing to the ground. The reason? Sheer curiosity for what the experience would be like. Other episodes, or maybe one of the same--memory does come and go these days, chronicle life in Cicely during the summer and winter solstices, when the town experiences 24 hours of sunlight or darkness. The impact those days have on the show's characters only made them more strange and therefore more endearing. Apart from satisfying my recently uncovered penchant for off-beat, quirky television series, Northern Exposure shares a common trait with my connection to Entertainment Weekly. As I reflected in my first Countdown to 40 post, I felt a sense of isolation after moving from suburban Saint Paul to rural Minnesota. Entertainment Weekly certainly helped alleviate that feeling, and so did Northern Exposure in its own way. Sure, no matter how rural and disconnected my life seemed to be in west-central Minnesota, it definitely was not as rural and disconnected as Cicely, Alaska. On some level, though, I think I connected to Joel's experience as a stranger in a strange new land among strange new people. That the decision to relocate was not his own made the similarity to my situation all the more striking. At the same time, I, too, eventually grew to love my new home, my new surroundings, and my new friends, particularly once I started letting my own guard down and opening myself up to the wonderful people and space around me. Reduced to a base level comparison, we were the same, Joel and I. When I started the process of writing about Northern Exposure, I generally knew the direction it was heading. One thing I failed to see coming at the outset was identifying a pattern of television show qualities I tend to gravitate towards. Surprisingly, two other revelations surfaced as I continued to write, both having to do with the character played by John Corbett. First, most if not all of the scenes and episodes I remember the most feature Corbett's Chris Stevens in a prominent storyline. I never spent much time thinking about that before this project. I primarily thought the show's radio DJ simply epitomized what it meant to be cool. But now I am pretty sure my fascination with Chris Stevens amounted to one of my first adolescent crushes. Second, my crush on the DJ character may have also inspired me to create my own DJ alter-ego, which I talk about in more detail on the Hot 101 page. Of course my fascination with Top 40 programs undoubtedly played a role in that, too, but I don't think it a coincidence that I initiated my Top 40 around the same time I started watching Northern Exposure. Consider my mind blown. |
AUTHOR
I am a self-proclaimed pop culture geek and list enthusiast who is celebrating the big four-zero by counting down the most important, influential, and favorite music, movies, television shows, books, and video games of my life so far. Categories
All
Archives |