America is truly a splendor. From the freedoms we citizens are granted to the awe-inspiring national parks, America is jam-packed full with what some could argue the best of everything. But what fills our day-to-day lives, from music to television to our cinema, is for the most part anything but the best.
American pop culture has certainly had its ups and downs, but is it not supposed to be beloved at its time of popularity? Is that not the very definition of "popular" culture?
Primetime television shows have become a menagerie of reality shows and crime scene spin-offs; magazines have been reduced to paparazzi-profiting photo books; the music that dominates the airwaves is beat-driven and lyric-lacking, profiting only due to the image of the, dare I say, "vocalist."
A new crop of emaciated actresses and talent-lacking male leads now replace Hollywood's once dominant population of classically trained thespians. With the exception of Quentin Tarantino, the blockbusters that the masses are typically offered fall within the realms of two categories: teen comedies or historic epics.
While I enjoy the grandiose retelling of any historical event or figure as much as the next person, I yearn for fresh innovative stories that transport me to a different place and time. I await the arrival of cinematic masterpieces that evoke emotions I never thought possible. The phrase "they just don't make them like they used to" seems to come to mind.
Less than mediocre television programming has become even more apparent. With the dominance of reality television, mind-numbing shows have cheaply and swiftly taken over our even most relied upon stations. Everyone is cashing in on the reality bug, from ABC to Home and Garden TV. It may be considered a guilty pleasure, but is the pleasure worth sacrificing quality programming?
Even magazines that are, in comparison to television, meant to enhance our intelligence have sold themselves to the morbidly mundane public. Our checkouts at the grocery store, once stocked with Time and The New Yorker, are now overthrown by assortments of periodicals that might as well not contain any words at all.
Quite possibly our popular music could be in the most devastating state of all. Though popular music has always been revered as light-hearted and cheesy, from Donny Osmond and the Bee Gees to Tiffany and Debbie Gibson, I still dream of a day when the artists with both talent and a message will reach the mainstream. If anything, just to merely enlighten those sheltered from music other than that which appears on TRL or 106 & Park.
Granted that I myself am as guilty as the next for watching my fair share of meaningless television and certainly buying into popular hip hop, I can still anxiously await the day when an artist appears on the radio who blows my mind, a television show that captivates me or a film that changes the way we all view our daily lives.
It seems that American culture has lost its credibility and classiness, if it ever had it. The 1950s were an era of Elvis, Chuck Berry, I Love Lucy, Bridge on the River Kwai and West Side Story. Are these things merely regarded as the golden era or were they hated and disrespected during their time as well? Or is pop culture merely a thing to look back upon and say "I remember that?"
For now I can only suggest that if you are as displeased and disheartened with American entertainment as I am, dive into the pages of Sylvia Plath, Ernest Hemingway or James Joyce and await the day that we receive what we pay for -- quality entertainment.
