Sunday’s Emmy Awards—a time when the TV industry pats itself on the back for its best artistic achievements—are well in our rearview mirror now, and we’ve had time to come to grips with the winners (Breaking Bad for best drama, Modern Family for best comedy and scads of others), losers (critics howled that The Newsroom’s Jeff Daniels beat out Mad Men’s Jon Hamm and Breaking Bad’s Bryan Cranston for best lead actor in a drama) and award oddities. For instance, many believe that Nurse Jackie’s Merritt Wever gave perhaps the best acceptance speech in history (for best supporting actress in a comedy) when she got up on stage and said, “Thank you so very much. Um, I gotta go. Bye.”
Many critics were particularly struck with how grim this traditionally festive awards ceremony was. Six television luminaries were eulogized during the show with lengthy, personal salutes. Others were saluted in a collective montage. And then there was a curious homage to the coverage of the John F. Kennedy assassination.
“This might be the saddest Emmys of all time,” said Steve Levitan, Modern Family’s producer.
Headline writers were quick to pick up on the theme. “Night of the Dead,” Yahoo! TV declared. “So This is What a Death-Themed Award Show Looks Like,” opined Vanity Fair.
But maybe all this looking back on the dearly departed was, in a way, appropriate.
Television—at least what I knew television to be when I was a kid—is dying. Perhaps it’s already dead.
When I was 12, I’d plan my nights around the TV schedule. (Awful, I know.) I knew when my favorite shows were on, and I’d deal with homework or playtime around them. I’d rarely miss Magnum P.I. or The Dukes of Hazzard if I could help it. And, for a 12-year-old with not much to do in the evenings anyway, it made sense. It’s not like I could watch it whenever I wanted: Television didn’t work that way.
Now, of course, it does. If there’s a show that I want to watch, I record it. Or catch it on Netflix. Or buy it on DVD. Other than sporting events, rarely do I watch things when they’re actually scheduled. And I don’t think I’m alone in that. Television has become an on-demand medium. And that is changing the nature of television itself.
It’s allowed serial-based story arcs like Lost, Breaking Bad and Downton Abbey to flourish. It encourages viewers to “binge watch” their favorite programs—ingesting three or four or more episodes in one bleary-eyed evening. Entertainment entities that aren’t traditional networks at all are getting into the game: Netflix’ original show House of Cards was nominated for several Emmys and even won one.
If television 30 years ago was like riding a bike, television now is like driving a Segway—which, of course, isn’t like a bike at all. It is fair to say that television, as we knew it once upon a time, is dead.
But as we Christians know, death can be just a conduit to a different kind of life. And while no one would equate today’s television with heaven, there’s no question that TV will, for better or worse, be with us for a long time to come.
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