Some say mainstream culture has been dumbed down over the decades. You might be defensive about this, throwing out some variation on the ‘old man yells at cloud’ meme from The Simpsons. This response is understandable, the rhetoric typically comes from the raggedy scrotes who miss the “good old days” and would bring back hanging to chastise the neighbour’s cat. Humans are capable of enjoying hot bodies on Love Island and the prose of Fyodor Dostoevsky, thank you!
I’m not a scrote but I am concerned about chat shows. Looking back, the days I spent as a child watching Parkinson and Friday Night with Jonathan Ross are the reason I work in the media today. I wanted to ask questions to famous people. I wanted to know about the people I admired, understand how they did what they did, where it came from, what drove them. As someone from the middle of England, chat shows were a gateway into a glitzy spotlight which always felt out of reach.
Since then, they’ve become more disposable. The Graham Norton Show and The Jonathan Ross Show aren’t places for probing or insightful interviews, but a vessel to generate viral content with games or meme reactions. This isn’t strictly the fault of TV broadcasters, who are probably hamstrung by tight PR restrictions and the need for clips which will translate to social media, but they aren’t excusable either. They’re the reason ‘hard-hitting’ chat shows come out like Piers Morgan’s Life Stories; a cold, repulsive circus fuelled by the tears of its guests. We made Mel B cry! Piers takes no prisoners! Yuck.
A benefit of modern life is having access to old shows via YouTube. I’ve spent countless nights watching clips of people I admire on Parkinson, The Dick Cavett Show, The Charlie Rose Show and more. They have a quality we rarely see on TV today; a natural, flowing calm not butchered by stringent edits. The host isn’t there to catch them out or stage goofs for headlines (not obviously, anyway), but to have a conversation. A lengthy one too, where the camera lingers on filler which often tells you more about a person than the big subjects.
I have a strong memory of watching George Michael’s 1998 interview on Parkinson at my gran’s house. It was a special dedicated to him following his arrest for sexual shenanigans in a public toilet in Beverly Hills. At seven-years-old, I had no grasp on the context — I just really liked the song Outside and thought the video was funny. Looking back, it’s easy to see why the interview left an impression. George Michael is incredibly honest, open and charming; the dream interviewee. It’s almost alien watching it against today’s standards. Parkinson doesn’t get in the way by purposefully pushing buttons or trying to get laughs himself, he just thoughtfully prods when required. It’s so refreshing.
This fascinating, extended candidness isn’t limited to this one-off special. George Michael returns to the show years later, where he stumbles into a tangent about the merits of capitalism. Not every popstar has George Michael’s smarts, but the format and conversation is a bleak contrast to today’s standards. On ITV’s The Jonathan Ross Show, for example, you’ll more likely see repeated segments dedicated to splatting cream on faces over anything illuminating about the guests.
I blame the internet for stripping away the interesting, thoughtful edges from the mainstream spotlight. The best interviews with anyone are tucked away on specialist podcasts or YouTube channels, away from the gaze of the masses. Social media has changed connections to famous people too, giving us greater insight into their personal lives than most promotional interviews.
TV chat shows need to do a better job of booking guests pulled from different corners of life. I’ve been fascinated by the amount of authors on chat shows during the 50s, 60s, 70s and 80s, all the way from Jack Kerouac and the Beat Generation to Stephen King. They’re always interesting and entertaining, and important too for publicising books to a wide audience. It’s baffling that, when Game of Thrones dominated TV, George RR Martin wasn’t featured on any UK chat show. He’s the writer of the biggest medieval fantasy series since JRR Tolkien, and you want to just speak with Kit Harington? It’s absurd.
Why wasn’t Terry Pratchett booked when he was alive? Why hasn’t Neil Gaiman, whose stories have been adapted into countless shows and films, made an appearance? I could continue with TV writers like Jed Mercurio from Line of Duty fame or Vince Gilligan from Breaking Bad. I would kill for a show where these rubbed shoulders with Little Mix, Noel Gallagher and Love Island voiceover Iain Stirling. You can have that line-up for free, TV execs.
There’s the possibility authors don’t want to answer the questions mainstream TV might propose. After watching Stephen King quizzed countless times about his mental well-being — like trauma is a requirement for writing horror stories — I wouldn’t blame them. I’ll always admire Clive Barker, who jumped headfirst into a dumb-fuck avalanche on current affairs show Open to Question back in 1987. He answers every conservative question with dignity, intelligence and respect, even when one audience member compares him to serial killers Myra Hindley and Ian Brady.
It was a different time in culture, but without authors dispelling fears with rational thought — this circus might have evolved into something damaging for generations. We need thinkers outside the vapid on-screen promo circuit back on TV chat shows, who can show a different path to success and prove intelligence is valued to the next generation.
StarkTreatment 