Countdown to Nullity
#568
Last week, a friend suggested we watch the Countdown 50th anniversary special on the ABC. Being of the generation that grew up with this legendary pop music program, I thought, “Why not? It’s an authentic piece of nostalgia.” As it happened, the original video clips and studio footage only served to emphasise the nullity of present-day offerings. How much better it would have been to simply show the old stuff and forget about the contemporary tributes and interventions which were uniformly embarrassing. There may be a perverse fascination in watching elderly pop stars such as Russell Morris and Ross Wilson still performing in their late 70s, (although their numbers, The Real Thing and Come Back Again, both predated Countdown!) but it’s less gripping to see present day idols murdering old songs.
A Kate Bush tribute was horribly lame, as three singers produced lifeless covers of classic songs. If they had merely played the original clip of Wuthering Heights it would have been simpler and better.
When an aged Ganggajang got up to sing their anthem, Sounds of Then (This is Australia), someone had the bright idea of sending out Indigenous rapper, Nooky, to yabber over the top. “Always was, always will be,” were the only words I caught. It was a shambles that only served to undermine both acts, but I’m sure there were people at the ABC congratulating themselves on having subverted a song about Australia sung by a bunch of old white guys.
And then there was the fortyish Boy George clone who told us Countdown was the most important thing in his life. “Sad!” as Donald Trump might say.
I could go on, but the whole program was a prime example of the proficiency of today’s ABC when it comes to messing up a perfectly good, harmless idea. Why couldn’t a program about Countdown be a fast-paced documentary, not a muddled rave party with lashings of political correctness and irrelevant present-day talent? Why does the contemporary have to rub its muddy paws all over the recent past?
As a trainee curmudgeon, it wasn’t easy to put up with that air of constant, breathless excitement, which invited us to go “Ooooh! Aaah!” about everything. The abiding impression I took away from this special was how much more inventive and creative the old Countdown producers had been. It also looked like a lot more fun in those days when one didn’t have to constantly keep ensuring that every minority interest was (over) represented.
We have become absurdly serious about the most fatuous things, but are unwilling to give serious attention to cultural matters that absorb massive resources and have crucial, long-lasting ramifications. Why can’t the media write an investigative story about the Powerhouse Museum debacle, an unprecedented act of cultural vandalism that will end by costing the NSW taxpayer billions? Why is nobody scandalised by the NGA spending $14 million on a single sculpture of dubious workmanship?
One of the most prescient book titles of recent decades was Neil Postman’s Amusing Ourselves to Death (1985). Although he was looking at the TV age, Postman’s critique of the debasement of news into entertainment is even more cogent for the era of the Internet, social media & cable.
When news becomes entertainment it’s entirely predictable that it will be tailored for our tastes. The media superbrain believes we want to be continuously happy and cheerful, therefore it provides us with good news and ignores the nasty stuff. Included in those exclusions are most forms of criticism, because this is supposed to spoil people’s fun by making them think twice about something they might have been innocently and ignorantly enjoying. “Well a lot of people liked it,” is the usual riposte. I know I’ll soon be hearing that a lot of people adored the Countdown special!
When this ‘all-good-clean-fun’ attitude is mixed with the niggling moral imperatives of contemporary life, it becomes impossible to say anything critical about any representative of a notoriously oppressed minority. It’s unacceptable that someone who is Indigenous or queer, for instance, might be merely untalented. To suggest as much makes you a Very Bad Person, who must be shunned by polite society.
There’s a group of “chosen people” who can do no wrong – so long as they fit the approved official image of a rebellious artist. If one puts a foot wrong, as Bindi Cole Chocka did when she came out as a “socially conservative” Christian, there’s a risk of being quietly forgotten. From being beyond criticism, she has become literally unspeakable.
The result of such dishonest posturing is a viral spread of stupidity, and ultimately the corruption of a public culture. In a world where it’s enough to “like” an exhibition, a book, a film, etc., in the same reflexive way one might like chocolate or a warm bath, it’s no longer necessary to know anything. Like the beasts of the field, we chew on fresh grass and think life is pretty good. It’s such a relief not to have to wear out our brains by the practice of excessive thought.
A large part of the media would like us to be in a state of perpetual excitement about the most banal things. But if we’re not dancing and singing, we need to feel relaxed and comfortable. The ABC has form here as well. The revamped ABC News website now provides a feature called: For You: Stories grouped to suit your mood. You can “Take a break with lifestyle & culture” or sample the range of feel-good stories in the “Mood booster” option.
If one gets a little tired or depressed reading about the carnage in Gaza or Ukraine, why not unwind with a completely fatuous, unthreatening bit of “lifestyle & culture”? Or read a cheerful piece about a stray dog finding a home, or teenagers overcoming cancer?
Perhaps it’s only me, but I suspect there are many people who find that such attempts to sweeten and soften the news only render one’s mood a whole lot worse. What’s even more infuriating is the suggestion that “lifestyle” and “culture” are roughly the same thing, or at least of equal value in people’s lives. It’s very like that other terrible combo, “arts” and “entertainment”. There’s a whole section of the Sydney Morning Herald’s “Culture” section devoted to “Celebrity” – although surely this should be filed under “Barbarism.”
Do we need to be entertained all the time? I have a suspicion that many Americans voted for Trump without even thinking about his policies, or lack of policies. What they liked was his irreverent trash talk. They voted for a great entertainer.
Is it necessary to walk around with smiles on our faces 24 hours a day? Kamala Harris, on the other side of the political fence, found to her cost that Americans were not in the mood for unalloyed joy.
Perhaps, just for a change, we might accept that everyday life has its ups and downs, its moments of happiness, pain, tragedy and boredom. If criticism serves some useful purpose it’s to get people thinking, rather than accepting every proposition served up by media, cultural institutions, and politicians. You don’t have to be a Trumpist to have no desire to live in a world in which we’re expected to think everything is just dandy, all the time, while following strict codes imposed by self-appointed guardians of morality.
To believe that the arts are nothing but a mindless pastime – an entertainment – is a recipe for dragging everything down to a base level where there is no distinction between trash and quality - where Dan Brown is as good as Simenon, Tracy Emin is the new Edvard Munch, and Avengers: Endgame is on a par with Citizen Kane. It asks us to read everything in terms of our own obsessions, turning history into little more than a tale of benighted racists and sexists, who should be avoided so as not to spoil one’s “mood”.
Culture has to be robust if it is to be meaningful. As we have grown more insipid, less discerning, heads full of weird little protocols and taboos, those who never gave a errr.. fig about art and culture (like most politicians) feel they were justified in seeing it all as a waste of time and money. Eventually, the happy consumers and the philistines will be able to join forces - a bit like the Coalition and the Greens on housing policy - and do away with costly museums altogether. We’ll turn these large, empty buildings into a party venues, where we can have weekly celebrations of Countdown as a monument of Australian cultural greatness.
This week’s art column for The Nightly looks at Radical Textiles at the Art Gallery of South Australia. As the title suggests, there’s a powerful political dimension to this show, which includes trade union banners and relics from the glory days of Women’s Lib and Gay Liberation. Nevertheless, when we get to the present, politics begins to look a lot like hedonistic self-absorption. I’m sure that last weekend all these new designers were glued to the Countdown special.
The movie being reviewed is Gladiator 2, another one of Hollywood’s long-distance sequels. It’s no disaster – director, Ridley Scott, is too much of a pro for that - but it feels like a big step down from the original Gladiator of 2000. One problem is the battle scenes, which have evolved into sheer fantasy, although they remain gripping to watch. Another issue is Paul Mescal in the lead role, who will make viewers think fondly of Russell Crowe in the previous film. Although Scott prides himself on the authenticity of his historical settings, in this case he has wilfully sacrificed history for entertainment. In this, he’s completely in line with the spirit of our times.