White Lotus is where a mix of stories crisscross, satirizing the obliviousness of the mega-rich who take to fancy resorts like colonizers, spreading their shit around for everyone else to step in. This season’s storylines included revenge, midlife crises, extortion, addiction, familicide by Pina Colada, and an incest beat (and beat off) that’ll have you cringing out of your skin. Also, Sam Rockwell shows up and it’s very stressful worrying if something bad will happen to him.
Even Seth Rogen’s new Hollywood satire, The Studio, fits the definition of a non-traditional comfort watch, with Rogen acting like Adam Sandler’s Uncut Gems character were he running a film studio and not a jewelry store. It’s that intense, watching Rogen sell his soul in snackable pieces while making everyone in Hollywood hate him.
All of these shows (which either just ended, just started, or which are coming back soon) are so comforting because they’re so good. But it goes deeper than that. Maybe some people take comfort from seeing TV characters pushed to the breaking point by the world around them, ultimately deriving joy from seeing their small victories and the feeling that, in an increasingly disconnected world, these poor schmucks are also struggling to make sense and success out of tainted ingredients just like we are. Or maybe these shows are all so grounded (even the more satirical ones like White Lotus and The Studio – because excellent satire takes you right up to the line of reality) that it creates comfort in the contrast to all the artificial crap we encounter all the time.
I am, at this point, not just talking about politics, though the hypocrisy of these ruling vampires with their mock outrage, false patriotism, and farcical commitment to law and order, efficiency, and transparency certainly does tense your jaw a bit.
Our social media feeds are comprised of surface-level glimpses into the ultra-curated and over-filtered lives of people on the cusp of becoming complete strangers to us. With every dumb video you scroll through, you’re asking yourself if the penguin on a waterslide captured your heart under false pretenses because it’s AI–or if it’s all becoming so rampant and polished that you no longer can tell or don’t have the energy to try. Are you AI? Am I?
Every other post seems like an exaggerated or flat-out-false reference to something you searched for or mentioned in passing within earshot of the assorted microphones collecting random specks of data from you to feed the great and powerful algorithm. Don’t worry, that information will eventually be used to productize your death by offering a great deal on your cloud-confined-consciousness. Ads are everywhere, everything is for sale but most of it is crap you don’t need.
Televangelists confirm your biases and teledoctors confirm your Dr. Google searches. Will the brain chip make me healthy, wealthy, or cause my head to explode like the guy in Scanners? If that happens, can my family sue? Did I surrender that right while navigating the Everlong Scrolls Of Terms Of Conditia to sign up for my 15th streaming service? I hear they filmed Assault On All My Senses VI in an even larger blue airplane hangar and it stars all my favorite names on chairs.
Worst of all, we live in fear not knowing what is and is not cake.
It’s a land of bullshit, and so these shows that so artfully force us to reflect on our silliness (White Lotus, The Studio), our work/life priorities (The Bear), our mortality and quest to know ourselves (Dying For Sex), our capacity for grace amidst terror and monstrosity when we least expect it (Adolescence), and courage while navigating frailty (The Pitt) — well, they fill a deep void the world is creating right now.
Through these shows, we can escape to something realer than what real has become. I think that’s kind of nice, even though these shows stress me the hell out.
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