By: Stephanie Blair Editor-in-Chief
In the ‘90s, “Friends” was the annoyingly unrealistic, yet lovable show; six friends living in huge apartments in New York City while barely working and sleeping around to their hearts’ content. Now, a different idealized delusion has overtaken television and I have to say, I hate it.
The image of entitled, lazy, dysfunctional “millennials” seems to have sprouted from the very shows that I can’t stand. Shows like “The Office,” “Broad City,” Workaholics” and Netflix’s “Love” glorify settling for less and just scraping by. I know that the grind of getting to where you want to be isn’t glamorous, but I would argue that carrying a Ziploc bag of weed in your vagina to avoid getting caught by the cops isn’t glamorous either.
Is it too much to ask for one show about 20-somethings whose lives haven’t devolved into a haze of sleeping around, abusing substances and spending more time complaining about working than actually working? I don’t like to use the word “hedonism,” but I’m left with few alternatives for the philosophy of these self-serving, and otherwise unmotivated underachievers.
Say what you will about the slew of ‘90s shows that have people living in a magical world where rent is no object and they can spend more time eating with friends than working, but at least those characters have jobs and move forward in their lives. “Sex in the City” has all four main characters doing jobs they love, in “Friends” the friends all achieve some degree of success in their professional life, even “Seinfeld.”… Well, I suppose it’s just Jerry who’s successful, but still.
It was a flaw of writing at the time, but frankly, I’m not interested in how the writers expect shows to be financially realistic – it’s television.
However, I can’t let go of my grudge against these new “woe is me” young adults that dominate screens across America. The problem has shifted from unrealistically nice settings to unrealistically awful people in fairly realistic settings. It’s no longer a question of financial logistics, it’s turning a blind eye to the reality of how easy is to be fired or get an STD. The often illegal, always morally questionable antics that characters get up to fill me with anxiety and disgust.
While I can appreciate wanting to escape into a fantasy world, I like connecting with the characters I’m watching. I like being invested in the lives of fictional characters. I cared exponentially more about Rory Gilmore getting into Harvard than I did about the pranks Jim pulled on Dwight every week.
I want a character to aspire to, to be excited for. If I wanted to spend an hour a night with unmotivated-alcoholic Gen Y kids, I’d move back to Portland’s suburbs.
Contact the author at sblair13@wou.edu
