I love going to the movies. I even work in a movie theater because I love movies so much. I watched Jurassic Park and The Pagemaster so much as a kid that I ruined the VHS tapes. I used to peruse and perhaps haunt video stores like Midtown Video and Black Lodge weekly. My dad and I always went to see the latest movies (a majority of them horror films; God bless the man, I’m unsure if he was as keen on the genre as I was). I love talking about movies to anyone who asks, and I’m the guy my coworkers go get when it’s time to sell a customer on upcoming attractions. I love cinema.
Yet I also find myself binge watching TV. In fact, when I house-sit for my parents once in a blue moon, I plop down and try to watch as much golden age television as I can. The Sopranos and The West Wing and The Wire … I’ve seen all of Vince Gilligan’s ABQ trilogy (Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, El Camino). Once again, I. Love. Cinema. Even the cinema that comes in a smaller screen and 13 episode increments.
But I also find myself addicted to another screen: my phone. I try to justify it by saying, “Oh, I’m looking at the news” or “I’m reading an essay on yadda-yadda.” But, if I’m honest, I watch just as much Let’s Play content and silly cartoons. I watch “mindless content.” I used to belittle people obsessed with reality TV, things like The Real Housewives or Jersey Shore or you name it. But how hypocritical of me to watch my escapist content and deny others theirs.
I thought maybe I should lessen my screen time and read more. I had been a literature major, after all. I should read more. So I put my nose in a book and smugly sneered at all those folks who “can’t put their phone down.” But is this any different? I’m still ignoring the world around me and escaping into a different world. Sure, I can justify my intentions once again (Oh, but it’s Jane Eyre! Not like those other ghost stories). But at the end of the day, I’m still turning my brain away from outside stimuli.
So, fine, I know what I’ll do. I’ll go into the woods! I’ll go in completely naked of technology. I’ll dive back into those old-school ways and engage with nature. I’ll be like Thoreau at Walden Pond! I’ll find peace like Kerouac on top of a fire tower, in solitude. Oh, how clueless I was. I’m still escaping. I escaped by watching trees sway hypnotically with the wind or clouds swirling and conjuring images in them. I can’t seem to do anything but escape!
Isn’t that a good thing though? Isn’t that just human? We’ve always craved a story. Our minds can’t help but do it. I write for a living. My whole career banks on imagination and exploration, on drama and storytelling. How can I deny anyone their escapism? It’s just the way we are.
There is a famous story in the Odyssey. Odysseus and his crew land on an island where the population eats fruit that makes you forget. It puts you in a dream-like state and makes you never want to leave. Eventually, half the crew stays while Odysseus and the rest manage to get back on their ship. The tale derides those who stay behind. But I am starting to understand them.
In today’s political climate, with all these screens and updates and news flashes, you can get so overwhelmed that you want to pop! It’s only human to turn to the arts or content to relieve that pressure a bit. I’ve seen some explode when you bring up a single topic (“Please! No politics! I can’t take it!”). Back in Victorian times, they used to escape to the seaside to slip out of the pains and pressures (and probably fumes) of city life. I imagine they’d also be just as curious about all these escapist fictions and semi-fictions we inundate ourselves with now. I’m certain that Jane Austen would crave a little Below Deck giggle and guffaw. She was the original writer of scandalous day-to-day gossip fiction.
You need to escape for a little bit once in a while. But let us try not to stay in that escapism for too long lest we become complacent and lazy and lotus-eating as the world turns without us or our consent. I catch myself drifting when the news turns toward tariffs and trade wars and Gaza and Ukraine and, now …
I can’t seem to breathe. I think I’m going to rewatch Jurassic Park now.
William Smythe is a local writer and poet. He writes for Focus Mid-South, an LGBT+ magazine.
