ANTIBODIES KILLED MY BEARD

ANTIBODIES KILLED MY BEARD

PRIME TIME

Richard C. Walls

COMMIE IRRESPONSIBLE: As I write this in early February, ABC has yet to unleash its 14 hours mini-series Amerika, though the hype is hot and heavy, with political hobbyists of all persuasions already lined up waving clubs and roses. A prediction: the show will have a mild success and a quick fade. Early episodes will have high ratings and then there will be a drop off.

Even though I haven’t seen the series, I feel like I have-not just because of the endless discussions and previews but because I remember (albeit dimly) how in the ’50s, a decade which resembles the ’80s in many ways, commie takeover scenarios formed a flourishing SF/Fantasy sub-genre. I remember enjoying these simple tales of good vs. evil, and I think they had a lot to do with fostering the idealism that burst forth in the ’60S, ironically enough (I remember, too, “duck and cover” drills in grammar school, also funcrouching under your desk in case the A-bomb comes breaks up the monotony as well as any fire drill). So as the Amerika debate rages, or at least plods along, I have trouble getting too worked up about this neo-surge of traditional pulp-values; and anyway, another injection of Russo-phobia into our popular culture is like bringing coals to Newcastle. As for those who see the series as an extended apologia for the bloated Reagan defense budget which has lost its support among the general populace—fear being a last ditch and often effective replacement for debate in these matters—I think they shouldn’t underestimate people’s ability to take this whole thing as the producers have said they intend it, which is as a fantasy. And given the premise, that the same country which is currently on the verge of a defeated withdrawal from Afghanistan after eight years of military effort has somehow managed to “overrun” our gigantic armed-to-the-teeth continent and its 200 million-plus cranky individuals, how else could they take it?

A final kvetch. If there’s anything really insidious about Amerika, it isn’t the comic book premise but rather (speaking from my disadvantage of relying on pre-airing reports) the way resistance is depicted, even a fantasy resistance in a fantasy totalitarian state. ’Cause the fact is (to wildly paraphrase noted linguist and provocateur Noam Chomsky), if there really was a commie takeover (snort), those poor flag-waving saps who indiscriminately suck up Reagan’s sentimental/nationalistic drool would be the first to capitulate (after an admittedly difficult period of adjustment), while those who would continue to resist would be those who always resist.

AMERIKAKA: This is award show season. I know ’cause I keep bumping into them against my will. The Golden Globe Awards (foreign press award) .popped up late on a Saturday night and left one impression— movie stars tend not to show up for these things and TV stars do. Then there was something called The American Music Awards (ABC)—talk about BLANDness. I mean, I admit to having all sorts of blind spots, but if Whitney Houston is an exciting talent, then I’m the Pope.

Not one to remain discouraged for long, I tuned in The Ace Awards (WTBS)—a salute to Cable excellence, don’t ya know. C'able being the last hope of humankind on the planet, you’d expect this award show to be a little different; but no, it followed the model set down by the Oscars in the year zero, right down to the tacky opening music number and the under-rehearsed presenters reading lame gags off a faulty teleprompter. Anyway, nobody shows up for the Ace awards and after an hour of watching people like Peter O’Toole, Anthony Hopkins, Gary Busey, Phil Collins and Susan Sarandon not be there for their awards, I tuned out. Oh yeah, Max Headroom showed, but not enough (and his show won as “Best Music Series,” which is like crazy).