Last year I wrote an article on the whole Seth MacFarlane at the Oscars furore*. It was, if it had to be said to ultimately swing a certain way, fairly supportive of MacFarlane's performance. It wasn't that I enjoyed it particularly, just that nothing about it was particularly surprising or unexpected and, for that reason, I found the hyped up public backlash following it completely ridiculous.
The truth is I hardly knew anything about MacFarlane before the Oscars. I didn't know what he looked like or what his style was bar the one piece of his work I'd seen (and not really liked) Ted. I suppose I'd seen odd moments of Family Guy through friends and flatmates being fans but I'd never really being pulled in by the programme in any way. So I educated myself a little and started watching American Dad and Family Guy. The former I warmed to quite quickly. I didn't find it laugh out loud funny or particularly scintillating viewing but I enjoyed the characters, the story lines, Roger the alien's many disguises and the absurdity of the arguments and beliefs of the super patriotic Stan Smith. I 'got' the point of the series and Patrick Stuart was a bonus.
Family Guy felt like the same programme but with less of a clear point and a lot more crassness, crudeness and unnecessary smashing of taboos. I saw the same 'jokes' being played out over and over again. I saw the humour getting lazier and lazier with the writers resorting to jews, homosexuals or trans people being, not only part of the joke, but the punchline itself. The joke always seemed to be on a minority group, someone with a disability or considered 'freaky'. The point at which a flashback was so shocking I switched the TV off immediately I realised I'm not Family Guy's target audience (Lois tells Peter she doesn't want him to babysit incase it ends up like the last time she left him alone with the kids. There's a flashback to the two of them standing by a graveside crying while Peter bemoans the fact that he shook, and killed, his son.).
This is okay. We can't all be fans of every TV show. I appreciate that, for many, the pure shock factor is enough for this show to be hilarious. I also know that a lot of people believe the show is intelligent satire, a commentary on the negative aspects of our world rather than becoming a contributor to them. No, despite the fact that, for me it's tacky and upsetting, I wouldn't dream of judging whether or not Family Guy is 'funny' or 'should be broadcast'. These things are subjective and it's the fact that we're all so different that has resulted in such a rich variety of entertainment shows being created.
Still, I was bothered about what it was I found so troublesome about this programme. I've probably watched the entire series now and, although I've rarely laughed out loud, I've found moments I find amusing, entertaining or clever. I certainly think, though not all that easily shockable to begin with, I've become inured to much of what bothered me in the first place (not that I'm sure I'm pleased about this). Keeping this in mind, realising that it's pretty easy to watch and becoming familiar with the characters and aspects of the show I do like, I couldn't work out what was still bothering me about the show, what was leaving me with a bitter feeling after each viewing. Then I read this paragraph in the novel Beautiful Ruins** (about a musical comedian doing his first show at the Edinburgh Fringe) and it put its finger on exactly what I felt about Family Guy. I don't think this revelation will bother Seth MacFarlane much, nor do I think that it should be applied to everything in order to discover its 'worth'. I don't think that everything has to be 'beautiful', but I do want art and entertainment to, in some way, elevate itself from pure crassness.
At the other end of the bridge, Pat came across a little quartet - cello, two violins, electric piano - kids playing Bach over the Thames for change. He sat and listened, trying to catch his breath but awestruck by their casual proficiency, by their simple brilliance. Christ, if street musicians could do that? What was he doing here? He'd always felt insecure about his own musicianship; he could chunk along with anyone on the guitar and be dynamic onstage, but Benny was the real musician. They'd written hundreds of songs together, but standing on the street, listening to these four kids matter-of-factly play the canon, Pat suddenly saw his best songs as ironic trifles, smart-ass commentaries on real music, mere jokes. Jesus, had pat ever made anything...beautiful? The music these kids played was like a centuries-old cathedral; Pat's lifework had all the lasting power and grace of a trailer.
*http://tinydanser-mytheatreblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/seth-macfarlane-at-oscars-sexist.html
**Beautiful Ruins, Walters, Jess, Harper Perennial, p. 159
No comments:
Post a Comment