TVism

TV: it’s considered an archaic term for an evolving form. Recently Lauren Boebert tried (and somehow failed) to say the word “transvestites”, after which Robyn Pennacchia over at Wonkette wrote that “transvestite … is an outdated term” that doesn’t actually have anything to do with a person’s lived gender, etc, etc. I imagine that many writers covering Boebert’s bizarre claim made similar politically correct fact checks. Personally I’ve always enjoyed the word transvestite, even though I’m not one*, and if it’s outdated, it really should be because aren’t we over the idea that clothes are gendered?

*I mean, okay, I’m a trans woman, not a male transvestite, but I also wear almost exclusively masculine clothing, so what does that make me? The point is that labels are only useful up to a point, after which they become harmfully restrictive and essentially uselessly inaccurate.

But wait, this was supposed to be an article about television and I got sidetracked.

What does television even mean anymore? Like the other TV word, I’m not clear on what television is anymore. And maybe that’s okay. I’ve always differentiated myself as a cinephile, a film critic, and while I touch on television sometimes, I see television as something more ancillary.

Furthermore, I don’t think it’s a surprise that many of my favorite series are either limited in scope (Fishing with John) or have episodes that read like standalone entries (South Park). Television as a medium, to me, is defined not by its content so much as they way we are expected to engage with that content.

Television is a medium of obligation, particularly of late. You’re obligated to tune in next week, to press play on the next episode, to find out what happens next. I don’t think it’s a surprise that many of my favorite films are not driven by plot but by imagery, ambiance, character, and association between these elements (Playtime, Koyaanisqatsi, Raging Bull). Raiders of the Lost Ark is a counter-example, the televisionism of movies, a huge influence on mainstream cinema storytelling as a series of calamitous encounters, each with clear delineations.

But then, Raiders, as an example of the kind of cinema storytelling that has made film more television-like, actually owes to a pre-television serialized filmmaking. So what, if anything, does anything mean?

I think the answer is not to try to gather more flexible definitions but to be, in and of oneself, more flexible in using them. Or don’t use them at all. It really doesn’t matter. Rigidity, whether discussing gender or art forms, won’t arrive anywhere but a kind of logic impasse. The world is more fluid than the words we use to define it. The critic in me knows I need words to mean things to get my points across; the poet in me knows better than to expect stability in my language.