On this very blog, I update a regular article called the 2012 Film Journal. In addition to thoughts on the films and links for trailers and director's credits, I also include the way in which I watched the films. This inclusion was something that got me thinking.
There was a very, very recent time when I would have had three ways in which to view a film: I could have gone out to the theater. I could have watched a DVD/VHS/BetaMax/Laserdisc homemedia style physical product. Or, I could have watched it through my cable provider on networks like HBO or Showtime or on commercial cable with ads every few minutes or so.
Now with the advent of the home DVR, on-demand media services and my subscription to Netflix I can watch any of literally thousands of films at any given moment. Of course, there are millions of people just like me who have the same luxury, and maybe even similar tastes and subscriber services. Yet, it is still highly unlikely that my film of choice for that night will be the same as millions of other Netflix subscribers or that we will watch it with similar reference points, perspectives or expectations. Furthermore, even if I watch it along with thousands of other streamers, will there be a single one o those streamers that I actually know or can share the film with?
It's at this point where our cultural collectiveness begins to fracture. This is the phenomenon that has me intrigued. Is it possible to have more access to media and simultaneously move further away from a cultural zeitgeist?
Technology is a big part of life for my whole family. We have a gaming system that allows us to watch Blu-Ray and stream digital media like Netflix and Hulu. My wife has a kindle Fire that has apps for the aforementioned streaming sites as well as all the ability to surf the net throughout our home. My kids have iPods, which are basically a smaller package version of all the shit my wife's Kindle can accommodate. We are plugged in as a family, but very often, not plugged in with each other.
My wife can read an e-book while I watch a film on Netflix, all while our kids are upstairs watching cable or using their iPods. Even within our nuclear family the cultural distractions are often fragmented - and we love each other and enjoy each other's company.
Lately, I have become fascinated by what happens when this sort of fragmentation occurs to millions of us at the same time. There is an inherent disconnection in accessing media and culture in a private, individualized way. So, even though we have unfettered access to more information and media than at any time in human history, we are in many ways, more removed from each other than we have been in a very long time.
Most groups of people have a base of cultural experience that they share. That cultural experience certainly shifts from group to group based on age, gender, race, educational level and areas of interest. However, the cultural circle in which you spend most of your time will share a great deal of common cultural experience. Certain films, records, books, articles and radio programs will have become common knowledge amongst your chosen groups of peers. It is altogether common for your inclusion in such groups to be based on your tastes and cultural proclivities. So, if you like 80's college rock records, Quentin Tarantino films and the works of Ernest Hemingway, you and I will likely have a lot to talk about. These trivial topics may be the thing that bind us.
Based on those criteria, many, if not most of my social circle will have a very similar viewpoint on those cultural goods. Sure, I might like Hemingway more than you, but if we find a communal and slightly esoteric pop-culture common ground, our relationship can take flight from there. It may seem insignificant, but these are the foundations upon which many lasting friendships are started. Whether it be based on a shared love of thrash metal, Dungeons and Dragons or Sex And The City, people connect with other people through the device of culture.
Of course, if we are all able to digest that culture from the comfort and privacy of our own homes, we are less likely to meet people with whom we share a cultural bond. Unless your film student pizza delivery guy catches you watching a Godard film in your living room, it's tough for you to meet anyone at the movies when you soak up Vivre Sa Vie on your couch. Now, unless you're digesting a live happening like a sporting event or a concert, you're very likely on your own.
The vast majority of music buyers in this country spend their cash through the iTunes account on their home computer. iTunes even includes a function called Genius that will recommend songs for you to try and/or purchase, so there is no exploration for discovery of new music, it is simply handed to you. Many music buyers see this as an advance. I view it as subtraction by addition.
Outlets like Twitter and Facebook do allow us to bridge thousands of miles and create new online friendships in ways that have never been possible before. For the most part, that has had a positive effect on our cultural communication - on the surface. Sure, I can "friend" you and suggest a movie or book I have been enjoying, but the conversation rarely extends beyond that because of the bite-size nature of social media. There is very little true interaction that exists in these online kiosks, we're just waiting for our turn to post. So, in that world, the dispensation of ideas most frequently trumps our digestion of them.
Many cultural critics have discussed the idea of the "convenience factor". This phenomenon focuses on the idea that as a viewer/listener/reader, we are more likely to consume something based upon the ease with which we can get to it, instead of how worthy it is to consume. Through this way of thinking, you could easily deduce that I would be willing to watch a sub-par film because I have instant access to it via my Netflix streaming account than waiting two days for the DVD to arrive in the mail. I cannot speak for all viewers, but in my case, the theory seems to have a great deal of merit. Therefore, our drive to watch something is more powerful than our drive to watch something good.
Overall, there is a terribly conflicted feeling I have about the access and ease of ideas and content to which we are privy. The amount of information that we can easily grab in a moment is staggering, and we have far fewer instances to parse out the cultural choices we make because they're so easy, they cease to feel like real choices. That is what is most troubling about it. As the writer Aldous Huxley once wrote, "
Technological progress has merely provided us with more efficient means for going backwards."
