The words ‘Netflix and chill’ really became synonymous with self-care over the course of the pandemic and its aftermath. It’s not so surprising, when lockdowns and social distancing isolated many in their homes, it was through streaming services that we experienced the world through this sort of connection placebo. Characters can’t replace friends, and scripted interactions can’t replace real ones, but is there some genuine merit to entertainment as a therapy of sorts? In my opinion, absolutely!
Last week I wrote about the seasonal depression that sets over me each year like a smelly wet blanket. In reminding myself that the definition of insanity is to repeat the same pattern and expect a different result, I have taken an alternative approach to my curmudgeonly cycle this year. Forcing productivity only results in creative impotence, so I’m leaning into the path of least resistance.
Therefore my new philosophy is that beans on toast is a totally acceptable mid-week meal, sometimes it’s okay to take the dogs around the short walk loop and dust on your camel collection isn’t going to kill anyone. Likewise, when your brain refuses to digest the third book about cults you’ve picked up this year, it’s okay to take solace in comfort T.V.
My partner and I differ wildly on our idea of entertainment-based escapism. While a nihilistic, apocalyptic hellscape will swiftly draw Jon out of a funk, I prefer to sink into a familiar fantasy. Something can be read into the fact that my favourite fantasy worlds are all located in close-knit communities in small-town North America. Think Hart of Dixie and Bluebell, Ed and Stuckyville, Northern Exposure and Cicely, Schitt’s Creek and, well, Schitt’s Creek.
These beautiful fictional towns, chock full of hilarious eccentric characters and quaint invented traditions speak to our desire for a strong sense of community. How many of us know our neighbours, let alone every person in town. Does quirky the bartender at your local know your order and deliver it with a side of sass? Could you rely on your entire community to pitch in to save the day?
While they may not accurately depict the realities and challenges of small-town life, these rural jewels reflect our need for interconnectivity in a world where it feels like we are rapidly drifting apart, unheard and unseen. Yes, the internet and our phones bind us to far flung family, school friends we might have otherwise have lost touch with, and strangers that share our interests, but can LOL complete with the sound of real laughter?
There’s a legacy building element to this too. In sprawling metropolitan suburbs and cities, would anyone outside your circle even notice if you died? In small towns and communities woven together like patchwork, every passing has a ripple effect through a community that grieves together. It’s a base human instinct to fear being forgotten, to fail to leave our mark on the world around us. Even though eventually we will all slip from living memory, as the last person that remembers us also leaves this earth, we crave our lives to be observed.
Of course this could just be me, my tendency relate everything back to death is well documented. Maybe the enduring appeal of these types of shows is just that they make us feel good. These towns are sanctuaries from the outside world, untouched by the violence and prejudice of real life. Maybe that’s the real escapism. We can watch Schitt’s Creek and imagine a world free from hom*ophobia, Hart of Dixie shows us a parallel reality where rural Alabama is progressive and health care is seemingly affordable and accessible.
Now I love me some sci-fi, and I’ve re-watched Stargate, Farscape, Firelfly and both variations of Roswell more than I care to frelling admit. Dramas like Nashville and The L Word have the same enduring appeal. But when the chips are down, I return to the sitcoms and comedies that feel like old and dear friends. Sometimes there is genuine, strong yearning to be able to actually walk into the Rammer Jammer for a drink, or bowl a few games at StuckyBowl. Over the years, as my friends have spread over Australia and the globe, I long for the physical closeness of friendship that makes the Golden Girls such a feel-good staple.
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Watching T.V can feel like a luxury the time-poor can’t afford. For those of us that feel guilty placing aside something we ‘should’ be doing in favour of something we want to do, reframing a Saturday afternoon binge watch as a necessary recharge might just do the trick. There will always be a more noteworthy way to potentially spend your time, but I’ve come to realise that as short as life is, there’s still no practical way to cram every moment with meaning and memories. Some cold afternoons are for heated blankets, the sound of two snoring geriatric dogs and your favourite shows.
On a side note, I would love to hear your favourite shows, movies or games? What do you keep coming back to and why? Also if there’s a single other person that remembers the early 2000s gem that was Ed, I want to know!
