January 4th, 2006
Everybody likes good stuff, right? Well-made films, skillfully rendered songs, quality television shows, and so forth don't need anyone to speak in their defense. But why should quality get all the love? Critics are paid to separate the wheat from the chaff, but really, we can only watch Citizen Kane so many times before longing for something a little less wheat-y and a little more viscerally chaff-y. Here, The A.V. Club speaks out in favor of some things that we guiltily acknowledge are tacky, tawdry, or just plain lowest-common-denominator, but that we stubbornly adore anyway.
MTV's True Life
Joyless curmudgeons might hate it because: It's on MTV. Joyless curmudgeons will only admit to watching MTV2, and they generally turn to PBS when looking for documentary series.
But we love it because: According to MTV's website, True Life's mission is to "reflect the state of youth culture," which is apparently equal parts sincere and very, very stupid. When the formerly chubby Floridian in True Life: I'm Going To Fat Camp gazes at herself in the mirror and says she's now looking for a guy "more like Justin Timberlake," she means it. Just as Charlie, the Staten Island groom of True Life: I'm Getting Married, couldn't be more sincere when he saunters into his reception with his siliconed bride on one arm and a white pimp-cane on the other, and proclaims it "the sickest party" he's ever seen. Simply put, True Life is one of the most entertaining unscripted shows on television.
At least we could claim: That it's added some memorable phrases to the cultural landscape, such as "Where are my cheese balls?" (from True Life: I Have A Summer Share) and "Now that I have my calves, I think I am the total package" (from True Life: I'm Getting Plastic Surgery).
They Live
Joyless curmudgeons might hate it because: It's a cheaply made science-fiction movie about evil rubberized aliens which look like Sleestacks from Land Of The Lost, and it stars grunting action-hero-wannabe "Rowdy" Roddy Piper in a stiffly heroic role not far removed from the one he played in his WWF days. He even gets a lengthy, utterly gratuitous wrestling scene.
But we love it because: It presents such a funny, giddily insightful view into what was wrong with Reagan-era America, in the form of alien hypnotic suggestions that make Earthlings fearful, greedy, and convinced that money is a god. It revels in its trashiness, but at the same time, it's authentically creepy, with its compelling peeks at an unseen, malevolent world lurking just beneath familiar surfaces.
At least we could claim: That we relish it solely as a crucial developmental step in the cinematic evolution of director John Carpenter. (That would also give us an excuse to keep loving Big Trouble In Little China.)
The McDonald's Sausage McGriddle
Joyless curmudgeons might hate it because: Obesity is an epidemic in America, and the only thing worse than starting the day with a greasy, salty sausage patty is slapping that patty between two miniature pancakes.
But we love it because: Breakfast treats don't get much more sublimely delicious than the original McGriddle, which ingeniously combines the savory and the sweet, the chewy and the doughy. Plus, the pancakes have the syrup cooked right in, so the eater's fingers stay relatively un-sticky. It's the kind of stick-to-the-ribs breakfast that a farmer would eat before heading out into his field, assuming that his field were located near a turnpike.
At least we could claim: That it's a much more reasonable and elegantly designed sandwich than the latter-day McGriddles, which add egg and cheese to the stack. Now those are disgusting.
American Idol
Joyless curmudgeons might hate it because: The show represents everything that's wrong with the music industry, network television, and the democratic principles on which this nation was founded. None of its freshly scrubbed karaoke singers have released even a single decent album. The dead time of "elimination" nights, filled by staged Ford Focus commercial plugs and Up With People group medleys, are as bad as TV gets.
But we love it because: For a few minutes each night, Simon Cowell deflates the dreams of some kid who doesn't deserve to sing at the county fair, let alone in front of millions. The fact that this competition is the most-watched show in television gives it an innate sense of drama that other reality shows lack. (If it were #100 in the ratings, who would care?)
At least we could claim: That we aren't the only ones addicted to it. There's something historic about a show that's excruciatingly painful to watch 95 percent of the time, yet so weirdly compulsive that Americans of all stripes tune in every week.
Windham Hill
Joyless curmudgeons might hate it because: As the preeminent recording label for "New Age" artists for 30 years, Windham Hill has popularized the notion of aural wallpaper—music even less obtrusive than Muzak, designed to be played at day spas and dinner parties.
But we love them because: Windham Hill helped sponsor the careers of genuinely talented and creative musicians like Alex De Grassi, Mark Isham, and the late Michael Hedges, all of whom have made music too pretty to be avant-garde and too eccentric to be mere background music. The New Age wave that followed Windham Hill's "quiet revolution" (so dubbed on the label's new 30th-anniversary four-disc box set) has been largely watery and indistinct, but Windham Hill itself has been responsible for some uniquely atmospheric Americana.
At least we could claim: That Windham Hill's stylish cover art gives landscape photographers a way to fill the time between phone-book season and inspirational-calendar season.
Con Air
Joyless curmudgeons might hate it because: It's shallow, easy, and ridiculously implausible. In other words, Jerry Bruckheimer-riffic.
But we love it because: It can be enjoyed two ways: as a deliberately hilarious, tongue-in-cheek comedic take on action movies, or as explosive eye candy. On one level, it's a thoughtless good-guy-kicking-bad-guy-ass flick; on another, it's a cheekily over-the-top, postmodern look at the same. Other bad movies don't go far enough into the absurd, but Con Air has it all, and delivers it with an amazing cast: Nicolas Cage (as—get this—Cameron Poe), John Cusack, John Malkovich, Steve Buscemi, Ving Rhames, Dave Chappelle. And each brings something ridiculous to the table.
At least we could claim: That it's a far more enjoyable film than others in the genre (The Rock, Face/Off), and it features far more plane crashes, explosions, and friendly serial killers than March Of The Penguins and Pride & Prejudice combined.
America's Funniest Home Videos
Joyless curmudgeons might hate it because: It seems like a vacuous collection of men getting hit in the crotch and kids-say/do-the-darnedest-things cutesiness. The legacy of the painfully unfunny Bob Saget, who hosted the show from its 1990 inception until 1997, doesn't help, either. Additionally, the lamest video almost always wins.
But we love it because: People doing stupid things and/or hurting themselves is funny. A man skis down a small patch of snow on his roof, awkwardly landing with his leg catching (and probably breaking) on the side of a truck. Then there are the people who stand on shaky ladders with chainsaws to cut down trees, and the myriad parasailing/waterskiing/mountain-biking mishaps. Luck is apparently all that prevents these from becoming America's Most Tragic Home Videos.
At least we could claim: The show creates a continual time capsule of American lifestyles, fashions, and trends ripe for sarcastic comments (and sociopolitical analysis) from viewers.
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