Word: tv
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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MEDIUM COOL is the most impassioned and impressive film released so far this year. Writer-Director-Cinematographer Haskell Wexler's loose narrative about a TV cameraman during last summer's Chicago convention fuses documentary and narrative techniques into a vivid portrait of a nation in conflict...
...instant rerun of Julia. Bill Bixby, the ersatz nephew of My Favorite Martian, plays the widowed parent, and an accomplished seven year old named Brandon Cruz is the son searching for a mom -any old mom. By happy circumstance, Brandon is far less objectionable than Diahann Carroll's TV offspring, and he even seems to like his father. The show also appropriates a few gimmicks from contemporary cinema-stop-action photography, voice-over conversation and background bursts of rock music-but Eddie remains one of those programs that show the inherent dangers of borrowing from the neighbors...
...WALKED out of my room back onto the ward. I sat in one of the big brown chairs across from the TV and for a while wallowed in the luxury of time. I knew I was going to be in the hospital for three days and during that time I had absolutely nothing to do. The only comparable experience I can remember was when my family was camping out on Cape Hatteras. It was Sunday night and raining and there were no books to read and no radio to listen to and no place to go. Then it was great...
...TV was going loud and strong. It always went loud and strong. Television is an immensely important fact for mental hospitals. It provides an automatic something-to-do. If I'm just wandering around the ward or coming back from supper or from the bathroom, I'll have to pass the TV and since it provides constant change and because it's something that is acceptable to sit in front of while doing nothing it is tremendously attractive. You can almost fool yourself into thinking that you're watching TV. But really watching implies participation which means activity. And activity...
...this deadness and withdrawal, this feeling of being insulated from everything in bales and bales of thick cotton is comforting. Things are so ordered and stable and predictable. And the movement of the hospital machinery, the getting up and the going to bed, the meals and the TV are as vast and certain and ineffable as the rising of the sun or snow in winter. It's comforting; one is protected against feelings. Sometimes the insulation grows so thick that not even sound or light or touch gets through. It's almost cozy...