The Internet flatters us with attention in a way that Hollywood no longer can
Time was -- and what a time it was -- that Hollywood was our cultural epicenter. What happened on the big screen had cultural repercussions that rumbled out from megaplex to mini-mall.
But as the Internet makes self-expression and crowd formation possible on a faster and smaller scale, Hollywood can't keep up. "Small" cultural events -- the numa numa dance, the bridezilla video, whatever -- now have a greater purchase on our collective psyche. The reason: Not only can we share these smaller moments with our friends (embeddable videos, IM) , we can also create the moments ourselves (blogs, YouTube). Then we can track who watches our shows, reads our blogs, etc. The Internet flatters us with attention in a way that Hollywood no longer can.
Here's another way of looking at it: Back in the early sixties, Marshall McLuhan (and Hannah Arendt, and others) reeled back in horror as the first satellites were launched into space. The world, to them, ceased to be an experience to be lived and instead became an experience to be managed. Earth became a knowable system.
In a similar, but certainly less dramatic way, the Internet allows us to rise above Hollywood and, indeed, the world. Through blogs and media we engage in a "culture of knowingness," as Neal Gabler says in his excellent LA Times piece, that prides "knowledge of" rather than "experience with." Where once Hollywood managed us, today we manage it.
On a technology level, this is to be expected. For example, my relationship with media has become one of utility. I'm so accustomed to sending links to friends, or linking to things, that any unlinkable media is almost useless. When I listen to NPR, I wish I could freeze the broadcast and pull a link from the radio, send it to a friend. When I watch TV, same thing. When I go to the movies, same thing. Last year, the award for best picture went to Crash, a movie about hyperlinks.
Movies were once a cultural barometer. Now we have many cultural barometers, and we call them all "number of views."
The tragedy of this is a gradual erosion of produced experiences that have any real depth. If you doubt that, look at how the last ten years have changed our cultural experience. Faster news cycles graced by mind-numbing cable news and blogs that, more or less, reiterate what's already known. Fewer long-form interviews and more comedy news shows. Fewer movies but more (and better) television shows.
The counterargument to all these loosely-joined thoughts is that the "democritization of media" leads to more creativity, not less. I believe that's true. I also believe it's a poor substitute for perspective.
Because that's what a well-made movie is about. It's a two-hour chance to see yourself -- or what you wished you were -- from a distance. There is no distance on the Internet. There is only right now.
