Watching Me, Watching You (Watch TV)

Trust me, it’s research.

I used to work with someone who reportedly watched full seasons of prestige TV during his long commute. With his phone clipped to the dash, he could easily pivot his gaze from the show to the multi-lane freeway. Coupled with the two drinks minimum (usually more) he downed in the office every evening before getting into the drivers’ seat — it was clear he was a danger to himself and others.

“What are we going to do about this?” I asked another coworker.

“Leave the office before him,” he said. “And save ourselves.” I wanted more. I wanted an intervention, but that was “above my pay-grade” and “none of our business.” Mostly, no one wanted to hurt his feelings.

It’s a harrowing reminder that driving is a team sport. You’re trying to get where you’re going, I’m trying to get where I’m going, and we’re all trying to arrive without dying. We’re on the same team, even if some of our teammates are shaving points and throwing the game.

While my coworker is an extreme example, in these Distractible Times, we are constantly choosing not just what to watch but how to watch it. Sometimes we’re truly focused, mindful viewers of television. Sometimes a show has complicated plot twists and an endless cast of characters, so you have no choice but to focus all your brainpower on following it. Sometimes you’re watching with someone you love, as “quality time,” and you’d better put your phone away and keep verbal commentary to an agreed-upon level. Growing up in my family, whoever had the remote was “driving” —metaphorically, I promise — and usually that was my dad. Before we’d start a show, he’d say, “If anyone has anything they want to say, just press the button.” He’d point to his arm, indicating the invisible “button” we should press. Invariably, one of us would start asking questions about the show, without following the protocol of poking him first.

“Are you pressing the button?” My dad would ask, gauging the severity of the interruption.

“Yeah… I guess so.” He'd grab the remote and hit an actual button, the pause button, so we could discuss without missing a thing.

I aspire to watch more shows with my full attention. This is how the people who make shows, myself included, want you to watch. The Other Two’s season three premiere resonated more than a little from the episode title alone: “Cary Watches People Watch His Movie.” That’s what all “industry” people want: to watch people watch, laugh, get full-body chills, and/or cry, depending on the tone. But most of all, we don’t want anyone to look down at their phone or get up for a snack. If you do that in front of me, while watching something I worked on, I will consider that “pressing the button,” and we’ll rewind and start again.

TV writers fear losing your attention and write to prevent it. A writer I worked with used to defend story ideas by insisting to our boss, “As an audience member, I’m not changing the channel!” That’s the goal: keep them watching. On the other hand, another writer I worked with insisted we didn’t need to aim for perfection. About every joke, he’d say, “I guarantee when it’s on TV, there will be a laugh here.” Our show had a laugh track, so he was always right.

Some people think watching TV is a vice, but I’ve never seen it that way. Ever since I started dreaming of becoming a screenwriter, I saw watching as not only a good use of time but an essential one. “It’s research,” my college roommate and I used to say before settling in for a new episode of Gossip Girl on The CW’s website.

Now, there are so many reasons I watch, and not always simply because I want to. I watch shows because friends worked on them, because I’m writing something in the same genre, because I’m interviewing for a job, because everyone is watching it and I don’t want to get left behind (or trounced with spoilers). As a kid, I remember pontificating to my parents that if you’re interested in a show at all, you must watch the premiere and the finale. And maybe the midseason finale. I was talking about The WB, and this was before shows were online, so if you weren’t tuning in every week, you were missing it possibly forever. But honestly, I was correct. Watching pilots is some of the best research, and if you only have a few hours to learn a show well, finales and Wikipedia summaries come in handy too. Of course, it’s always ideal to watch in full at regular speed. A few years ago, a high school friend confessed that for years, he’d been pretending to have seen movies and shows our peers talked about. But in fact, he’d only read the Wikipedia summaries. He fooled me; he fooled all of us. The only movies I know he saw for sure are Step Up 2: The Streets and Madagascar, and that’s unsettling. 

Photo by Ajeet Mestry on Unsplash

Sometimes we can’t give shows our full attention, and we multitask. We want to keep our hands busy. Or we have too much to do. Or the show is boring. Or we’re addicted to our phones (all of us). Or, not to call anyone’s mom out specifically, we do this with every show because doing just one thing at a time makes us antsy. A screenwriting professor of mine once said movies are made to be watched and TV is made to be listened to. This is an exaggeration, and probably an outdated one, but traditionally movies were more cinematic and TV was more dialogue heavy. If you close your eyes and listen, how much would you still understand? Hopefully not everything, or else the expositional dialogue is out of control. I put it to the test sometimes, when I cook-and-watch, fold-and-watch, craft-and-watch, paint-my-nails-and-watch, or have-an-existential-crisis-and-watch. 

Exercise-and-watch shows are an elite category for me. For many years, I’ve used this as a way to motivate myself. The trick is designating certain shows “workout only” shows and not letting myself watch them unless I’m moving. I told this technique to a former coworker once, and he dismissed it. “That won’t work, because I’ll know it’s not a real rule.” What, like you’ve never lied to yourself? The best exercise shows are suspenseful and at least a little bit funny, although I’m not above crying on the elliptical. Ideally it’s a show I’m desperate to finish. The week I watched season one of American Vandal was very good for my cardiovascular health.

There’s a final category of watching where you’re not watching at all; it’s just for ambience. At a friend’s house recently, she had sitcom episodes playing on the TV for the entirety of our four hour gab sesh. The volume was down, but not all the way, and every once in a while we’d stop talking and look at the TV, distracted. Apparently some people have an easier time concentrating when there’s noise for them to block out, but I’m not one of them. Some people like to be lulled to sleep by the dulcet tones of their favorite comfort shows. Comedies, especially multi-cams with laugh tracks, seem to work best. To think, my words could be coaxing someone to sleep right now… I guess that’s great. Sleep is important. I’m an artist, just here to serve.

But please don’t do it in front of me. Press the button, I beg of you.