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My Love Affair with Repetition in Itself
Jan. 11th, 2020 12:08 pmIf someone were to ask me what's at the core of happiness and satisfaction for me, one of the components I would require in an enumeration of such would be familiarity. This might seem incongruous with my love for the weird and unusual, and, believe you me, it seems as incongruous to me as to others. Perhaps it is a matter of balance, of complement.
I thought of this recently, my love affair with familiarity and in particular with repetition in itself, because my lovely wife got me a more-than-generous gift for Christmas that I had only put on a wish list of someday purchases, not items I'd ask anyone to get for me: the complete 1960s Batman television series on Blu-Ray. If you, dear reader, are familiar with that series at all, you might recall the connection with my infatuation for the familiar: That show was a veritable treasure trove of repeated themes. Familiarity bred, in me, deep love.
Establishing shots persisted from week to week, and some became more or less stock footage: the call from Commissioner Gordon; the way Alfred would summon Bruce and Dick to answer the phone; the excuses to Aunt Harriet, followed by her bewildered exclamations; the lines spoken on the Batphone; the William Shakespeare activator for the secret door; the descent down the batpoles. Before and after the opening titles and the first commercial break, so much effort went in to making the viewer experience a familiar environment. One knew that when the Batmobile pulled up and parked in front of the "Municipal Building" on the Warner Brothers lot, it would be mere seconds before one would see a closer shot of the door with "Gotham City Police Headquarters" atop it: the same shot, the same angle, the same lighting every time.
Could such deliberately established familiarity, such almost insane consistency, have contributed in subtle psychological ways to the phenomenon that was Bat-Mania back then? Other shows established environment in similar ways, but I'm not sure they did it to the same extent. It was part of the "campy" aspect of this particular show, after all. For me, it seemed to work like a charm. I was 9 years old, and I was hooked. The show became everything to me. The bad guys had predictable mannerisms, and you'd see the same bad guy among the four favorites - Joker, Penguin, Riddler, Catwoman - again in a month or so, despite the Dynamic Duo sending them "up the river for good this time."
This resonated profoundly with something in me. Maybe it put it there, but that may also be a chicken-or-egg question. I grew up in the American Southeast, in the Northwest Georgia mountains. My life already had a great deal of repetition, a necessary routine that was synonymous with my experience of country life. We weren't farmers; my parents were teachers. We weren't rich, and did not travel much. The travel we made was usually to relatives within the state, and the most frequent visits were to places I can still see if I close my eyes. I was nine years old when Batman was on television, and its deliberate repetition probably sounded "make yourself at home" in my psyche almost out loud. The pace of life was slow, and my sister and I often thought it boring, but now we miss it. Modern life's unpleasant aspects - as well as my own personal psychological difficulties with anxiety - almost always seem tied to change coming too fast, too drastic, or too often. I'm a little surprised, in retrospect, that I loved the Tim Burton and Frank Miller re-imagining of the Batman characters and situations as much as I did. But then, I had already been advised long before that the show I had so idolized was meant to be deliberately silly, and not the thrilling action adventure many kids my age had taken it to be.
I additionally think I can see this as having been useful to those interested in manipulation by popular media. Particularly, I see it working for those who appeal to, and try to profit from, social movements to "take us back to" a more familiar time, and to discredit "too much change." Again, I'm a bit surprised I came to enjoy and love the progressive in art, entertainment, and politics. I loved the hippie movement, even as I remained faithful to my Southern Baptist upbringing. As I got into my teens and early twenties, I was a bundle of contradictions, most likely, in my search for self-discovery. My parental upbringing was not to make too many waves, and I had (hopefully, still have) a mostly sunny disposition and a desire to get along with people. This suits me well in personal life, and it made for a survivable professional one, though my more progressive and intellectual sympathies made me less of a think-alike than my love affair with Repetition in Itself might have suggested in earlier years. This of course affected my career advancement, but that's a frequently-repeated whine for another time and place - other than, of course, leaving a marker for it right here. :-D
Well, after all, Batman nicely balanced all of that repetition and those predictable weekly fistfights with bright colors, flamboyant actors, and some of the weirdest sets and props anyone had seen up until then. Color television for everyone was fairly new, and Batman was one of the most dazzling shows. When Star Trek came out a year later, it seemed overly complicated and boringly talky to me at first, I must admit.
Luckily, I grew out of it. But Batman's 1966 first season still thrills me much more than, perhaps, it should.
Make Gotham City Great Again? :-D
I thought of this recently, my love affair with familiarity and in particular with repetition in itself, because my lovely wife got me a more-than-generous gift for Christmas that I had only put on a wish list of someday purchases, not items I'd ask anyone to get for me: the complete 1960s Batman television series on Blu-Ray. If you, dear reader, are familiar with that series at all, you might recall the connection with my infatuation for the familiar: That show was a veritable treasure trove of repeated themes. Familiarity bred, in me, deep love.
Establishing shots persisted from week to week, and some became more or less stock footage: the call from Commissioner Gordon; the way Alfred would summon Bruce and Dick to answer the phone; the excuses to Aunt Harriet, followed by her bewildered exclamations; the lines spoken on the Batphone; the William Shakespeare activator for the secret door; the descent down the batpoles. Before and after the opening titles and the first commercial break, so much effort went in to making the viewer experience a familiar environment. One knew that when the Batmobile pulled up and parked in front of the "Municipal Building" on the Warner Brothers lot, it would be mere seconds before one would see a closer shot of the door with "Gotham City Police Headquarters" atop it: the same shot, the same angle, the same lighting every time.
Could such deliberately established familiarity, such almost insane consistency, have contributed in subtle psychological ways to the phenomenon that was Bat-Mania back then? Other shows established environment in similar ways, but I'm not sure they did it to the same extent. It was part of the "campy" aspect of this particular show, after all. For me, it seemed to work like a charm. I was 9 years old, and I was hooked. The show became everything to me. The bad guys had predictable mannerisms, and you'd see the same bad guy among the four favorites - Joker, Penguin, Riddler, Catwoman - again in a month or so, despite the Dynamic Duo sending them "up the river for good this time."
This resonated profoundly with something in me. Maybe it put it there, but that may also be a chicken-or-egg question. I grew up in the American Southeast, in the Northwest Georgia mountains. My life already had a great deal of repetition, a necessary routine that was synonymous with my experience of country life. We weren't farmers; my parents were teachers. We weren't rich, and did not travel much. The travel we made was usually to relatives within the state, and the most frequent visits were to places I can still see if I close my eyes. I was nine years old when Batman was on television, and its deliberate repetition probably sounded "make yourself at home" in my psyche almost out loud. The pace of life was slow, and my sister and I often thought it boring, but now we miss it. Modern life's unpleasant aspects - as well as my own personal psychological difficulties with anxiety - almost always seem tied to change coming too fast, too drastic, or too often. I'm a little surprised, in retrospect, that I loved the Tim Burton and Frank Miller re-imagining of the Batman characters and situations as much as I did. But then, I had already been advised long before that the show I had so idolized was meant to be deliberately silly, and not the thrilling action adventure many kids my age had taken it to be.
I additionally think I can see this as having been useful to those interested in manipulation by popular media. Particularly, I see it working for those who appeal to, and try to profit from, social movements to "take us back to" a more familiar time, and to discredit "too much change." Again, I'm a bit surprised I came to enjoy and love the progressive in art, entertainment, and politics. I loved the hippie movement, even as I remained faithful to my Southern Baptist upbringing. As I got into my teens and early twenties, I was a bundle of contradictions, most likely, in my search for self-discovery. My parental upbringing was not to make too many waves, and I had (hopefully, still have) a mostly sunny disposition and a desire to get along with people. This suits me well in personal life, and it made for a survivable professional one, though my more progressive and intellectual sympathies made me less of a think-alike than my love affair with Repetition in Itself might have suggested in earlier years. This of course affected my career advancement, but that's a frequently-repeated whine for another time and place - other than, of course, leaving a marker for it right here. :-D
Well, after all, Batman nicely balanced all of that repetition and those predictable weekly fistfights with bright colors, flamboyant actors, and some of the weirdest sets and props anyone had seen up until then. Color television for everyone was fairly new, and Batman was one of the most dazzling shows. When Star Trek came out a year later, it seemed overly complicated and boringly talky to me at first, I must admit.
Luckily, I grew out of it. But Batman's 1966 first season still thrills me much more than, perhaps, it should.
Make Gotham City Great Again? :-D
