Just give me a break

Lately — just all of a sudden lately — I’m having more and more trouble enjoying visual entertainment, and it’s entirely because of … I don’t know what to call it: imposed political correctness?

This stuff has been going on for a long time, long enough that it was easy to become inured to it and relegate it to the background while I paid attention to the things that actually interested me. I don’t know if my unexpected dissatisfaction is because things have reached a tipping-point, or if I’m just extra-sensitive right now (maybe temporarily, maybe not, because as I said, I don’t know), but it’s got to where it’s practically impossible now to disregard the stuff.

My viewing habits are increasingly eclectic. This began in the age of VCRs: at one point I had three operating at once, mostly to accommodate a work schedule that was all over the place. The past several years, the internet has served the same function. I no longer watch television; I mean, at all. The last time I turned on the television was to see the results of the most recent presidential election. I still watch lots of stuff … but I pick it on the basis of what interests me, and since I stream cached files there’s no rush (which also, incidentally, means I no longer see television commercials). Some of what I watch is current — Westworld, for example, or Better Call Saul — but it can be (and most of it is) just a matter of whatever catches my notice. For all I know, the mainstream is even worse, or maybe I just caught a string of false notes, but honestly the last three things I’ve viewed have had clangers that stopped me dead and took me out of the narrative while I was going, Really? Seriously? We can’t have a story anymore without this kind of silliness?

First, King Arthur: Legend of the Sword. Decent tale, effective framing, lots of good moments. But right at the beginning: Sir Bedivere is black? because, sure, there were lots of black men as knights in 5th century England. And this was followed by an Asian guy who later became one of the knights; that one was at least explained — imported to teach combat to quasi-gladiatorial fighters — but it still wound up being part of, Okay, this should meet our diversity quota.

Next, Snow White and the Huntsman. Again, a new take on a familiar tale … but right at the end, we have the escaped princess (who’s spent almost all of the past ten years locked in a tower cell) wearing armor and fighting trained warriors and absolutely holding her own in a type of combat for which she has no preparation whatsoever. Because women are strong, too!

Finally, the Bletchley Circle: San Francisco. Loved the original Bletchley Circle, wished there could have been more of it, and happy to have this opportunity to follow it further. But, of course, the moment the two English women arrive in San Francisco, they’re confronted with the sight of (bigoted, corrupt, cynical) city planners forcing black people out of a ‘historic’ neighborhood so it can be refurbished for a more upscale crowd. You know you can’t have drama without there being some social justice theme in there!

(Not to mention, by the end of the current season of Riverdale, precisely half of the remaining established couples — not counting adults — are same-sex couples. Because, hey, that 3% of the population isn’t being fairly represented if they don’t have 50% of the available slots.)

None of those were really that bad. What annoys (and, increasingly, grates) is the mass of it, the fact that it is quickly becoming inescapable: the sense that there is an agenda, and this agenda must be presented at every conceivable opportunity, so that no corner of visual entertainment can be neglected and allowed to consist simply of …

… of entertainment.