Pop Vultures

Television is an invention that permits you to be entertained in your living room by people you wouldn’t have in your home. ~David Frost

Mr. Frost is right, you know. At the moment, I have an episode of Dexter waiting on my hard drive and watching that will likely be the high point of my evening (which isn’t quite as sad as it sounds because, as I have pointed out previously, Dexter is one of the best damn shows on television).

I know I’ve brought up the idea of audience theory before, but I’m feeling especially pedantic today and in a mood to go into a bit more detail (skip to the jump if you just want to read about Hugh Laurie). The uses & gratifications theory states that audiences consume media in order to be gratified in some way and breaks the reasons into four categories. The first is diversion and escapism, such as with fantasy blockbusters. The second is personal relationships, the idea that people begin to feel close to these characters and want to spend time with them. This is the only explanation for the continuing existence of Two and a Half Men, though I would dearly like to have a word with anyone who encourages Charlie Sheen to continue acting. Next you have personal identity, in which the audience takes their cues on how to behave from the media. Best case scenario, this means that your house is inspired by Top Design; worst case is that you spent the late 90s wearing the “Rachel” haircut. Lastly is surveillance, the acquiring of information through the media. Think news and documentaries or, for that matter, Sesame Street. Hey, Bert has some extremely valuable knowledge to impart. On the surface, that all sounds like a straight-forward and valid theory, but where the hell does a serial killer fit in? I’ve decided to add a fifth category to this popular media concept: vicarious cruelty.

After all, I don’t watch Dexter to escape, because a murder-ridden Miami isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing vacation. Personal relationships? Well, the guy is charming, but I’m not looking forward to introducing him to my mother. I’m certainly not taking cues on how to be a better serial killer from him, so the last two are out. It’s not just Dexter, either. He is merely the latest card-carrying member of the Television Anti-Heroes Society, a club that includes Greg House, Tony Soprano, Al Swearengen, even Archie Bunker, if you feel like going old school. Sure, it might be interesting to have them over for a dinner party, but you’d have to make your guests sign a waiver before serving the first course. So why do we invite them into our house on a weekly basis?

Hugh Laurie plays a self-centered misanthrope with a deliberately broken impulse control switch. He is also a genius. He gets to say or do anything he wants because, at the end of the day, people need him. Can you imagine what you would do with that power? Well, I’d likely call in sick to work before spending my days perfecting my piña colada recipe, but that’s what makes me far less inspired than House. He spends his days making racist comments and admiring his female colleagues anatomy in a way Clarence Thomas would have considered blatant, and people just roll their eyes in exasperation. He’s House! What are you gonna do? And the audience eat up every snappy one-liner and wish, just once, they could get away with even one of his off-color remarks.

Tony Soprano, of course, would know what to do with House: he’d shoot him. He might beat him up first, if he was feeling a bit cranky. And for six seasons, Tony was the dark id of much of middle America. He was thuggish, violent and uncouth, but people loved him. Someone may dream of being as quick as House, but very few aspire to be a New Jersey mobster. (If I am wrong, please do let me live in ignorance. My readers are all gentle, fluffy bunnies!) We wanted him to escape the Feds, or the rival mobsters, so that his violence could live to entertain us another day. Of course, people are tricky, and many complained when Tony was not killed in the final episode. People might cheer him on through some of the most vile acts, but we also wanted him to be punished. It was the only way to close the door on the violent impulses that he appealed to; if Tony died, so did the depravity he represented. By continuing to live, albeit offscreen, those urges were never fully silenced.

I do believe that most people are genuinely good and kind-hearted. We want to be that way. But maybe, in order to be good and kind every day, we sometimes need to glimpse the dark side. We need to see the alternative, and we need to choose to walk away from it.

What do you think? Am I completely off-base? Or are you too busy playing Grand Theft Auto to say for sure?