{"id":22003,"date":"2024-10-08T18:01:51","date_gmt":"2024-10-08T22:01:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/coldfury.com\/?p=22003"},"modified":"2024-10-08T22:37:34","modified_gmt":"2024-10-09T02:37:34","slug":"lost-america","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/coldfury.com\/wp\/lost-america\/","title":{"rendered":"Lost America"},"content":{"rendered":"

GREAT piece on the opening-credits sequences of those classic old 70s sitcoms<\/a>.<\/p>\n

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Opening credit sequences are a lost art these days. \u201cLost\u201d because the ritual of collective TV watching is a thing of the past with no real place here in the streaming era. And yes, once upon a time, Network TV watching was a ritual. Like a formal State dinner with seventeen different kinds of spoons and a new glass for each course, Network TV viewing came with a set of rules and an irresistable order. All over America families gathered around the TV set at the appointed time, tuned our sets to the proper channel and waited for the opening notes of the songs we all knew by heart, excited to spend half another hour with characters we\u2019d come to think of as friends.<\/p>\n

There was something gratifying too about the idea that all across the country millions of our fellow Americans were doing the same exact thing at the same exact moment. If you are of a certain age, you probably have a memory of getting up during a commercial break on a warm night, maybe to let the dog out, and hearing the sound of the same commercial you were just watching coming from your neighbor\u2019s open window. There was something special about that sense of shared culture, all of us participating at the same time, no matter where or who we were\u2026city mouse and country mouse\u2026doctors, lawyers, electricians and plumbers. There was an irresistable allure to being a part of something magical that would only happen once and then never again.<\/p>\n

Streaming TV viewing, by contrast, is a solitary act with no real sense of time or place and where nobody knows your name. By the time a popular 70\u2019s show entered syndication, a committed fan would have watched the series opener one hundred times or more. But memorable credit sequences are more rare now, a function of their incompatibility with the churn-and-burn binge-viewing nature of the streaming model. Easier to just click the \u201cskip\u201d button, or \u201cnext episode\u201d, and get on with it.<\/p>\n

Instant gratification saves time, certainly, but in the process something is lost that perhaps should not have been. There is value in waiting. Part of what makes Christmas so special is the month long run-up that precedes it. There is also something captivating and mysterious about the idea of being treated to a show. To the knowledge that we can\u2019t speed things up at a whim. That we can\u2019t just skip to the good stuff. It is satisfying in a way that the wham-bam-thank-you-ma\u2019am rhythm of streaming will never be able to deliver. And it\u2019s hard not to wonder if the old ways of network TV might not have been good for us in some critical way we can no longer recall.<\/p>\n

Sit down, relax\u2026be still. Someone else is in charge for the next 26 minutes and you can\u2019t skip ahead. You are not in control. If the episode ends in a cliffhanger, you\u2019re going to have to wait a week to find out what happens. And that\u2019s OK.<\/p>\n

Everything moves faster now. And while it may be an article of faith at Wharton Business School that the customer is always right, there is no immutable law that says the customer will always be happier, or even better off, once they get it.<\/p>\n

\u201cSometimes you wanna go\u2026where everybody knows your name\u2026and they\u2019re always glad you came\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

The above closing line, of course, comes from perhaps my personal favorite of all the shows featured in the post’s embedded videos:<\/p>\n