The Speed of Life

British Home Office poster, ca. WW II

A person doesn't change just because
you find out more about them
--The Third Man (1949)

--Do you think you could follow
an intelligent conversation for a minute?
--I'll try
--My Man Godfrey (1936)

I'm bored with sitting around.
I'm a dramatic character. I need forward motion
--The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985)
_______________

Sunday homily: How do you roll?

Today's homily is not the typical fare. It grows out of a conversation yesterday with a dear friend who lives a rather hermetic life building beautiful vegetable gardens.

We spoke of the pace of media entertainment today, and how it has evolved from the 1980's. We mused upon the question: Could such a quick evolution in media feed have translated so swiftly into an animation of our neural circuitry capable of routing and processing the new speeded up transmissions?

This presumes that people are not sitting idly in front of the screen, and are making some sort of interaction with the story. By extension, if they are able to follow such disjointed presentations, how does this affect their real life interactions? Is life speeded up as a result of the programming, or do the programs reflect an inherent quickness in the viewers? Does art imitate life?

Hill Street Blues was probably the first series that introduced "reality" via quick cuts and vertiginous angles. Now that style seems par for the course for most programming. We both discovered that our brains are pained by attempting to watch such things. We have a desire to gaze at the object, to contemplate its totality, or at least as close to 360 as we can.

The quick cut and zig-zag denies that knowability to the viewer. One must be grateful for what one gets, and not look too deeply. Characters are unidimensional.

Sure, one could argue the Third Man had such angles, and My Man Godfrey moved at a good clip. But it was speed with wit and panache, and the vertiginous angles served good purpose in attempting to replicate the experience of character Harry Lime.

Now the shows come out of the gate with camera shifts right and left, quick cuts whirling the head around, shaky shots, at times, to give that on-the-scene videocam look. It all feels like a slick effort at UCLA film night, ca. 2000.

And to what purpose, and what effect? How, if at all, does it manifest in daily interactions? Does this sort of stupefaction mimicked characterize the daily experience of people as they march through life?

I have witnessed the growing clipped speech in some of my compatriots, and the inability to meditate upon a topic for more than a few moments. Everyone seems after the bottom line, and the bottom line is, "How do I get what I need or want in the most expeditious way possible?" Game on.

Not saying that sort of achievement is a bad thing thing. But what if it breeds dispassion and impatience in one's closest relations? What if one doesn't even notice this intrusion? The question centers around two ideas: Has this quick evolution in media translated into an evolution in behavior, and is this a bad thing?

The style of shooting could be called "total voyeur," as one is made to feel one is along for the ride, which it usually is as all the shows involve the police in one form or another, or gurneys rolling down the hospital aisles. Except for those moments involved in the soap operatic hijinks of the players.

It's not like Woody Allen should come out a la Purple Rose of Cairo and engage us, but still, I miss the respect that comes from a well-shot, well-thought story. For me, plotline drives a story; predictability is boring, no matter how pretty the package.

Needless to say, neither of us can countenance most programs and movies. We have been out of it for at least a decade. We admit that t.v. has never been much good. There are a handful of fine films each year which give a satisfying experience; at the end of which one can say, two hours well-spent.

That is your Sunday meditation: media and the fabric of our lives.