Nothing Wrong With Primitive Emotions
I have to come clean and admit it: sometimes the most simple and trite things move me and bring me to tears. Case in point: ABC TV's schmaltzy and sappy reality show Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. It's bad television (or good, depending on how you view the quality of TV), one of the cornier and sillier shows around that finds people who are messed up (wheelchair bound, epileptic, poor, limbless, 8 year old cancer victims, eyesight lost in a shooting, etc.) and makes over their house from a small, crowded, dirty and run down shack to a palatial state of the art home with all the latest appliances, gadgets, furniture. etc. (all provided by sponsor Sears). Not only do they redesign and reconstruct the house, but they construct elaborate and amazing special accommodations for the family, like building an indoor elevator for a wheelchair bound youth, a bed made out of a piano for a young black kid who is into jazz, and so on.
It's fun to watch, not just because you see them transform a piece of junk into a very nice home which I as a viewer wish I could have, but you see the transformation of very average (except for their particular "problem" that got them chosen for the program), run of the mill people be lucky enough to have their otherwise hard lives changed for the better. The show utterly milks emotions at every corner, showing shots of the family falling to their knees and praying when they see their house, hugging the home designers and builders, looking with awe at their new home in disbelief, not sure that this has really happened to them - you see their humility and gratitude and thanks, and it's extremely sincere. There's a lot of hugging and crying and group hugging and group crying and wiping away of tears and choked up testimonials.
Sometimes I watch this show. Sure, I could be bettering myself by reading a Book, some literature, playing guitar, writing songs or poetry, talking to my own family, but instead I watch this show and it moves me. When I see the faces of the families who were previously suffering, and for whatever reason and by whatever bend of fate this corporate and media machine comes into their lives and gives them a new home, and in effect, new lives. They are humble and grateful, tearful and full of joy, and I fight back tears. Sure, the wry sophisticated and worldy part of me thinks it's schmaltz and lightweight pap, yet another deeper part of me, some tiny lizard brain emotional pocket of my psyche just weeps, sitting there on the couch staring at a screen making images - the primitive fire reflecting on the cave wall, the primordial images flickering against my apartment wall. Me and my emotions watch this simple myth of suffering and "divine" (omnipotent power of a corporation) intervention and redemption, exemplifying the simple Christian fable that those who suffer shall inherit, if not the earth, at least a really nice home with really cool things.
I have to come clean and admit it: sometimes the most simple and trite things move me and bring me to tears. Case in point: ABC TV's schmaltzy and sappy reality show Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. It's bad television (or good, depending on how you view the quality of TV), one of the cornier and sillier shows around that finds people who are messed up (wheelchair bound, epileptic, poor, limbless, 8 year old cancer victims, eyesight lost in a shooting, etc.) and makes over their house from a small, crowded, dirty and run down shack to a palatial state of the art home with all the latest appliances, gadgets, furniture. etc. (all provided by sponsor Sears). Not only do they redesign and reconstruct the house, but they construct elaborate and amazing special accommodations for the family, like building an indoor elevator for a wheelchair bound youth, a bed made out of a piano for a young black kid who is into jazz, and so on.
It's fun to watch, not just because you see them transform a piece of junk into a very nice home which I as a viewer wish I could have, but you see the transformation of very average (except for their particular "problem" that got them chosen for the program), run of the mill people be lucky enough to have their otherwise hard lives changed for the better. The show utterly milks emotions at every corner, showing shots of the family falling to their knees and praying when they see their house, hugging the home designers and builders, looking with awe at their new home in disbelief, not sure that this has really happened to them - you see their humility and gratitude and thanks, and it's extremely sincere. There's a lot of hugging and crying and group hugging and group crying and wiping away of tears and choked up testimonials.
Sometimes I watch this show. Sure, I could be bettering myself by reading a Book, some literature, playing guitar, writing songs or poetry, talking to my own family, but instead I watch this show and it moves me. When I see the faces of the families who were previously suffering, and for whatever reason and by whatever bend of fate this corporate and media machine comes into their lives and gives them a new home, and in effect, new lives. They are humble and grateful, tearful and full of joy, and I fight back tears. Sure, the wry sophisticated and worldy part of me thinks it's schmaltz and lightweight pap, yet another deeper part of me, some tiny lizard brain emotional pocket of my psyche just weeps, sitting there on the couch staring at a screen making images - the primitive fire reflecting on the cave wall, the primordial images flickering against my apartment wall. Me and my emotions watch this simple myth of suffering and "divine" (omnipotent power of a corporation) intervention and redemption, exemplifying the simple Christian fable that those who suffer shall inherit, if not the earth, at least a really nice home with really cool things.
