The New Normal and the Acceptance of Bigotry

Lately, it seems like everything producer and writer Ryan Murphy touches turns to gold, spanning the range from the thrilling (Glee) to the seriously chilling (American Horror Story). But could his latest series, The New Normal, tarnish that stunning record of success? Unlike Glee, the show only takes stabs around funny -- though most similar to Glee as a situation comedy of sorts, the New Normal is not based around a group of basically immature highschoolers punchily belting out pop hits, and since the characters of the New Normal are left without the props of song-and-dance numbers to boost their charm, Murphy's forced them to rely solely upon their dialogue. And with just dialogue, it's easy to see a couple things more subtly disguised in Murphy's Glee: a legitimization of racism and homophobia, with no backdrop of show tunes to lighten the mood.

Let's take it from the top. The New Normal, in case you haven't watched the Pilot episode or read all of the press, is about an Ohio mother, Goldie, who realizes, through a series of conversations with her caustic mother Jane and an unfortunate walk-in on a cheating boyfriend, that she wants more out of life for herself and her daughter. Thus, she impulsively moves to California. With no high school or college degree to speak of, Goldie comes to the conclusion that the one thing she's good at, and can make quick money at, is reproducing (let's not even get into an analysis of how demeaning that is to similarly disadvantaged women everywhere... yet).

Goldie, played by Georgia King, decides to become a surrogate mother
after an attempt to "drive to Honolulu" on half a tank of gas. 

A few sentences ago, I mentioned a caustic (grand)mother, Jane. Here's a sample of  the racist, homophobic, and generally bigoted dialogue that Jane provides to the episode:

"Would you look at that. Just strutting down the middle of Buckeye Road in broad daylight, proud as gay peacocks." (While gazing at a pair of lesbians)

"I happen to love the gays. I could never get my hair to look this good without them."

"Oh, and now with the PDA? Those ass-campers have some nerve."

"I am extremely tolerant to all peoples! When they opened that Chipotle here, I was the first of my friends to go. And that is Spanish food." (After her granddaughter says she's 'unfriending' her on Facebook due to her bigotry).

"You people are so darned good with computers. And thanks for helping build the railroads." (to a young woman of Asian descent).

"Oh, no. You are not growing one of her kind of eggs in my granddaughter." (referring to the eggs of NeNe Leaks).

"I feel like I ate a black and gay stew right before falling asleep. This is a nightmare."

"I never could stand going into that store. Leon gave every hamster some queer name from a Broadway musical."

None of this inflammatory language is truly taken seriously by the other characters, and Jane's bigotry is accepted as merely part of her character, an integral piece of her identity that cannot be helped -- and is forgivable because of its darkly humorous content. But the fact is, this behavior is unacceptable no matter the age, race, or gender of the person it comes from.
Now, we could take the approach that by presenting such a character, especially in such a humorous light, Ryan Murphy is attempting to weaken the strength of such views, which, if never spoken, in theory become all the more dangerous and damaging. Read: if those hurtful and hateful view centered around homphobia and racism are never presented, they can never be challenged, and opinions can never be changed.
But if this is indeed what Murphy is attempting to do, it's a decidedly lackluster effort -- Jane's character,  which spins hate in as much a laughable way as Glee's Sue Sylvester, is never seriously admonished by a main character of the show. Her relationships to her family are never threatened, neither her daughter nor her granddaughter, who present to her the legitimacy of being white and are assumed to be compulsorily heterosexual to boot, say "enough is enough" to Jane's behavior.

Everybody just sit as you are and keep being backhandedly funny. Let's not actually approach the frankly life-threatening issues of homophobia and racism in a mature and thoughtful way. We might offend people if we did that. 

Just because Jane's character is meant to be humorous and just because her behavior is tongue in cheek and is meant to be interpreted by viewers as inappropriate, it doesn't mean that the other character's reactions to her, the legitimization of her homophobia and racism, is acceptable in any way. And as viewers, I would go so far as to say that we should not accept it, that we should demand more than a humorous approach and humorous admonitions to very serious issues.

"Political Animals" misses the Title Mark

Am I the only one to think that everything in this title should be in the same size font as "MOTHER"?

Within this election year (is it really a coincidence?) “smart” television shows have made a startling yet pleasing comeback, and one of those top shows is USA Network’s Political Animals. The series, now on its fifth episode, focuses on the struggles of a political family a cross between the Kennedeys and the Clintons, that lives in and out of an alternate universe White House in which Adrian Pasdar looks oddly presidential and it’s evidently plausible that Americans voted for an Italian to lead the greatest nation on earth. Apart from starring Sigourney Weaver, a feminist favorite ever since her iconoclastic roles in just about every science fiction movie since 1979’s Alien, the aggregate acting talent of the remaining cast smooths out a show that is still relatively rough around the edges. The heady ensemble of characters don’t have to be talking politics to hold the viewer’s attention or make an impact, as the scene-stealing Ellen Burstyn proves as the alcoholic mother of Elaine Barrish.

"They never let me speak on record," Burstyn's Margaret
proclaims, a martini in her hand. "I'm always too drunk, or
too honest, or God forbid, both."           

And it’s a good thing that the characters don’t talk politics, because that’s an evidently huge gap in the knowledge of the writers of the show. Elaine’s Secretary of State title actually seems to denote a dedication less to foreign affairs in and of themselves but rather “extreme humanitarianism” work that forces her to save others – one week, forced to go outside the payroll of the White House to save three kidnapped journalists, the next, convincing the president to provide aid to a woefully downed Chinese sub filled with a helpless crew (in both scenarios, Ellen is cast as  the only person to understand the importance of a human life, a singularity underscored by continuous references and flashbacks to her son TJ’s attempt at suicide). Had true political knowledge been bestowed on all Political Animals characters, then the show would have more to run on than what quickly becomes the fumes of antifeminism – for Ellen, as an unintentional figurehead for working women the world over, does not debate and take advantage of the machinations of the political system. Instead, she quickly goes outside the box of the government she could use to her advantage in order to “mother” away at foreign affairs difficulties, ardently proclaiming what is right and wrong in whatever situation happens to have reached her attention rather than lobbying, consulting her colleagues, or ever letting the viewer know just how much government power is at her disposal.  

Carla Gugino's journalist, Susan Berg, was clearly meant
to bring a context and translate politics for the viewer;
however, Political Animals lack of politics forces the
impression that  she's not the hardened reporter we want her
 to be, but little more than an empathetic gossip columnist.

Thus, the Political Animals title seems like a teasing misnomer as politics quickly takes a backseat to the dramas of Elaine Barrish’s life. Again, the writers have made the decision that it’s ultimately most important to Elaine’s story that we delve into her personal life as well, to understand what motivates and hinders such a powerful woman and to, perhaps, further remind the viewer that Elaine is indeed a woman who cannot step outside the bounds of traditional feminine roles. Elaine as a Politician is portrayed as inseparable from her role as Elaine the Mother, Elaine the Divorcee, and Elaine the Daughter, and the show becomes such a complex puzzle of those sometimes purposefully contradictory roles, that the most we ever learn of politics is that all politicians ever talk about is their former terms or their plans to run again. Even Elaine’s plans to run again for president have less to do with broad political decisions and more to do, again, with her “extreme humanitarianism” and her attempts to fulfill the role of moral center.

Why do I always have to be the one with a heart and feelings to guide
my hand? It's because I'm a typecast matriarch, isn't it? 

As the show develops, it’s likely that the requisite family dramas will become ever more intense, regrettably obscuring the powerful role that Weaver’s Barrish could take on. Practically speaking, we’re a nation obsessed with the American elite that the Barrish family is based on, so of course we find the “insider” drama of Political Animals irresistible. As long as we’re getting our gossipy fill of the meat of a political family dish, with skilled actors accomplishing the seasoning, perhaps we’ll be able to ignore the fact that Political Animals contains some disastrous substitutions for a few key ingredients. 

Stay tuned, my next Political Animals post will probably focus on the show's highlighted roles of sex, sexuality, and gender.

Glee's True Colors and The Performance of Sexuality

Let’s think about Glee for a minute. I’ve loved the show, always have – I like to think of it as America’s guilty pleasure, because I also like to have confidence in the intelligence of the average citizen. But lately, I can’t keep my critical eye off of those characters with which Ryan Murphy populates McKinley High. Apart from the fact that the average age of the Glee club cast is about 23, Glee is well known for its representation of subcultures and countercultures, and I think that unfortunately we’re so proud of Glee for showing all ages a demographically representative portion of America, complete with Latinos, African-Americans, and Asians, and presenting a generally positive and radical (for television) view of homosexual relationships, we forget that there’s some prime examples of racism and, for lack of a better word, “closemindedness” going on. Early Glee discussed race and sexuality in a feel-good atmosphere that assumed that high school was a safe place to practice identity:

But now, Glee is beyond the whole "true colors" feel-good representations of gender and sexuality. And there were quite a few oversights of the two in a recent episode. The episode I refer to is the disco-themed “Saturday Night Glee-ver,” where, among other things, the majority of the characters continue to be conflicted about their future and sing out their stress through a variety of disco songs that prove to us: 



Yes, Puck. Yes, it does. We thought those dark times were behind us.

First of all, what’s with this representation of transgender Wade (played by the Glee Project’s Alex Newell)? In case you’ve forgotten, Wade wants to perform a song while dressed as his “alter ego,” Unique (let’s look over the fact that the Glee writers have chosen a stripper name for Wade’s character; while the name might actually have some relevance and carry an important message, it hardly presents an accurate image of a transgender’s individual’s decision to change their name to someone who they really feel that they are inside. Point in case: Chastity Bono to Chaz Bono. The name of Unique diminishes the seriousness of Wade’s decision). The Glee characters try to discourage Wade from performing as Unique, which they feel is perfectly reasonable: as Kurt says, “It is Ohio.”

"Thankfully, though, it's okay for me to be a unicorn!"

But despite their doubts, Kurt and Mercedes are just students, so by the logic of the television show, adult Sue is free to bully everybody into submission. Wade performs as Unique anyway.

Here’s the problem, though. What is at risk with the way that the Glee producers have chosen to show Unique? To begin with, there’s the shock that the characters feel that Unique “actually looks like a woman.” And Unique doesn’t just look like a woman – she sings like a woman, passes as a woman, “fools” the audience.

And so the message here might be, it’s okay that Unique performs, because Unique does pass as a woman. If Unique looked more male, then, connotatively, her decision to dress up in drag would have been condemned. But in performing the female gender in a convincing way, everything is okay because Unique can, in fact, “fool” an audience into accepting a gender identity counter to the one biologically assigned to her. Thus, Unique is made palatable to the Glee audience because they do not know her biologically assigned sex, and made palatable to us as viewers because the gender she wishes to be is flawlessly performed. It’s a little disappointing, isn’t it?
Maybe I should be more understanding of the fact that at least Glee's writers trying to present a transgender characters to audiences. But the matter of representing a character like Unique isn't to be taken lightly, even in a show meant to be light entertainment.