As we’ve been hearing for months, this season of American Idol brings with it the most solid top 24 in years – if not ever. Their performances this week do not reflect that. If they were outstanding, it was only in their ability to not completely suck. Mediocrity is nothing to strive for, but with all but five of the contestants, that’s what we’re getting. Results shows at this point are boring in their predictability. There are no surprises as to who will go home before the top 12, and even if there were, it’s impossible to already be invested enough to care. But every hour of live Idol is required viewing for me. Not for entertainment, not for suspense but for the sheer fact that American Idol is the only show that makes me feel like I’m not the only one watching.
Earlier this week, NBC announced that it was officially killing the regular TV season. They will be running a 52-week schedule starting this fall. It isn’t far off from what we’ve gotten used to in the past decade, with the upswing of original and admirable content during the summer season, but this official nail in the coffin doesn’t come without stirring up a bit of wistfulness in my TV-loving heart. You see, the tube, as it was when I was growing up, is gone. The writing has been on the wall for years… and most recently in The New York Times. Their Fall 2007 TV preview included a piece about the way people are defined by the shows they love. It’s the medium’s golden age, and people are taking advantage of this on their own terms. This is not a bad thing. As a TV fan, obsessive and aspiring scholar, nothing is more intriguing to me than the notion of seeing yourself reflected in your set. But with this new lack of structure and focus on independence, the once communal culture of TV barely extends beyond small factions of rabid fans. Nielson can talk ratings all he wants, but as I see it, the collective TV experience is on its way out.
So this is why I watch American Idol. For me, it offers something that none of my scripted favorites can. It is event television in a time when event television (save award shows, sporting events and national disasters) is gone. Sure, Lost, Entourage and Weeds are all good for the water cooler, but do your parents know what’s happening on them? Are their moments dissected or mocked on every talk show and local news broadcast? When something even remotely unexpected takes place, can you not get away with watching them a few days late and remain spoiler free? The answer to all of these questions is “no.” American Idol owns this type of attention (in my opinion, Dancing With The Stars still isn’t there), and offers me my only means to bond with TV-watching America. It’s the only thing we do together.
Just a couple weeks ago I was lamenting with a friend over the state of music videos – how they hold no interest to me any longer and how I’m not even sure if any of my favorite bands actually produce them. We talked about how their premieres used to be events. Everyone wanted to see who would make cameos in Michael Jackson’s clips and how he’d stretch 3:48 of song into a ten-minute feature. They’d air them on network TV – an idea that seems so foreign now it’s hard to reconcile that it was ever real. I was reminded of this tonight during the filler-heavy Idol results show when they premiered Paula Abdul’s attempt to reignite her music career. It’s beyond bizarre that their screening of “Dance Like There’s No Tomorrow” was the first music video I’ve seen outside of YouTube in well over a year. If someone as immersed in television as myself can claim this, I can’t imagine how many other (less fervent) viewers shared my experience. However many there were, no show but American Idol could have sparked the question.
When someone asks me what television shows I like, which someone inevitably does on an almost daily basis, I skew my answer for the person asking. In most instances, I pick the most popular or recognizable series in my roster – like Idol. If I were to tell one of my parents’ friends, for example, that I love Battlestar Galactica, they would be confused and possibly uncomfortable. I, in turn, would be angry that my declaration was met with glassy eyes and an ignorance to the fact that it is one of the smartest and most relevant programs of the last decade. But by holding my favorites close to my heart, and only discussing them in my writing and among like-minded friends, I realize I am a part of the diaspora.
In the end, my nostalgia for family time in front of a tube free of DVR, DVDs and divisive or elitist programming is a moot point. I wouldn’t trade my TV lifestyle or my favorite dramas for the widest flat screen you could dream of. If connecting with my countrymen means only watching shows as agreeable American Idol, I’d prefer to be on my own. But I’ll enjoy the happy medium I have right now while I still can. The TV experience isn’t what it used to be, and what’s left of it is fading fast.
