Abstract
Within the torrent of Raymond Williams’ television ‘flow’, the medium is punctuated with moments. Whether classical or contemporary, fictional or factual, comedy or drama, television is arguably defined by such moments: emotional moments; moments of comedy; historically significant moments; aesthetic moments; accidental moments; celebrated moments; and controversial moments. In remembering well-loved television programmes, such moments might come to mind. The opening baseline of Alabama 3’s “Woke up this Morning” from the opening credit sequence to the pilot episode of The Sopranos (1999-2007); Del Boy (David Jason) falling through an open bar in Only Fools and Horses (1981-2003); breaking news interruptions; and. the last moments of controversial finales, from St. Elsewhere (1981-7) to Game of Thrones (2011-19).
Televisual moments are remembered, anecdotally (a breaking news item, for example); recreated (as in the courtroom scenes from the trial of O. J. Simpson in The People v. O. J. Simpson [2016]); revisited and revaluated (such as the finale of The Sopranos [1999-2007]); and resurrected from television’s archive, re-presented and recontextualised in television countdown programmes (such as 100 Greatest TV Moments from Hell [2000]). Moments are woven into the history and fabric of television; they slip or are inserted into the highly pressured environment of commercial network television and are artistically articulated within the context of subscription and on-demand, where they are afforded more space to be executed. Moments are a potentially limitless subject and appropriately this book series reflects the breadth of possibilities in their study.
How do you define a moment, let alone know where to begin to evaluate a moment’s worth, especially within a medium that is so expansive? The Moments in Television book series endeavours to explore such questions. The objective, as the blurb states, is to ‘celebrate the power and artistry of television and the excitement that particular televisual moments can engender, while simultaneously interrogating current concepts and debates within TV studies.’ The following review is based on the first three books in the Moments in television book series.
Complexity/simplicity
In 2015, Jason Mittell interjected notions of complexity into the re-emerging and re-heated debates over quality in relation to television dramas of the first decades of the new millennium. In particular, Mittell (2015) traces and examines the growing complexity of television narratives: from television’s so-called ‘second golden age’ (according to Thompson (1997)) to the ‘serial television’ he himself analyses. Since then the contentious term ‘prestige TV ’ has emerged and scholars have traversed debates over the complexity of television and its capacity as a storytelling medium since the late-1980s, paving the way for interrogations of television as an audio-visual and serialised storytelling form.
In Complexity/simplicity, scholars take inspiration from Mittell, responding to the assignment brief set by the series editors, which Bignell outlines in a Critical Studies in Television blog: ‘The underlying premise of the Moments series comes from TV Aesthetics, the philosophically inclined methodology that thinks of TV as an art more than as a medium’ (2022). Focusing on brief (temporal) moments, the contributors in this volume forensically analyse the technical fabric of a range of (mostly contemporary) British and American television dramas, exploring their aesthetics and interrogating the history that envelopes them.
Centring on aesthetics and artistic direction, James Walters looks at how 2D animation adds another layer to television complexity in Rick and Morty (2015–) and Bignell examines the contradictions of colour in Vanity Fair (1967). Beyond the performativity of aesthetics, Josette Wolthuis looks at the coded nature of costuming in Killing Eve (2018-22), Karen Quigley turns attention to gender performativity through a contemporary lens in Father Ted (1995-8) and Benedict Morrison interrogates Doctor Who’s (1963–) alignment with queer theory. For both Christa van Raalte and Maike Helmers and Michael P. Young, dramatic frameworks guide their respective analyses: Raalte and Helmers’ examination of the Brechtian tradition of breaking the fourth wall in House of Cards (2013–8) and Young’s chapter on the confrontational use of schadenfreude in Veep (2012–9). The complexity and simplicity of perspective is at the heart of James Zborowski and Trisha Dunleavy’s chapters, with Zborowski looking at complexity and clear-sightedness in The Wire (2002-8) and Dunleavy examining choice in response to The Handmaid’s Tale (2017–). Meanwhile, Sarah Cardwell proposes a framework for evaluating simplicity using John Lewis’ 2011 television advertisement entitled ‘The Long Wait’.
Sound/image
In the second volume in the series, the contributors position themselves at the centre of the axis between the volume’s sound/image dyad as a means of reassigning the relationship between the visual and sonic elements of television drama in which the visual normally dominates. Revisiting the Inspector Morse (1987-2000), Richard Hewett examines technical innovations. Focusing on the performative dynamic between sound and images, Will Stanford Abbiss explores the dialogue between jazz and images in Dancing on the Edge (2013) while Tim Butler Garrett translates tableaux from the canvas to the small screen in a study of The Walking Dead (2010-22). For Paul Elliot, constructed realism is the focus of an investigation into the use of non-naturalist realism in Screenplay: Road (1987). Meanwhile, the other contributors to this volume reflect on sensory responses to television. Bignell’s chapter interrogates feelings of familiarity in relation to use of images and sound in The Twilight Zone 1959–64); Maike Helmers and Christa van Raalte study aesthetic intensity in Bodyguard (2021–); Peter Hughes Jachimiak looks at the aesthetic construction of fear in Children of the Stones (1977) while Caroline L. Eastwood applies the idea of feeling sound to Twin Peaks: The Return (2017). Elliot Logan’s chapter on Mad Men (2007-15) highlights the use silence and the framing of the face for dramatic impact.
Substance/style
Responding to television drama’s supposed evolution in quality and the elevation of television in public opinion (which has led to notions of the television auteur and ‘cinematic’ ambitions), the chapters in Substance/style interrogate the television moment, courting the line between criticism and praise and offering nuanced evaluation. Whilst the other volumes in this series are limited to mostly contemporary television dramas, Substance/style widens its generic scope, considering commercial or popular television genres, such as the sitcom, the courtroom drama and the period drama, as well as factual television, animated sitcoms, spy dramas and spoofs.
Lucy Fife Donaldson gives some much-needed attention to spy drama The Americans (2013-8), with an eye on design and identity; Wolthuis again looks at the role of costuming and context, this time in the period drama Call the Midwife (2012–). As well as crossing generic borders, Alberto N. García crosses national borders, focusing on the French television phenomenon Les Revenants/The Returned (2012–5) through a philosophical, metaphysical reading. Ariane Hudelet examines The Good Wife (2009-16) reading the series from the intersection of new technologies and the digital revolution. The sitcom is the focus of two chapters: Gary Cassidy’s examination of performance and laughter in Friends (1994-2004) and Michael Clarke’s evaluation of The Simpsons (1989–) which considers time and the long-running animated series. In a radical turn, through an exploration of the themes of respiration, revelation and the study of reception, Robert Watts repositions David Milch’s critical failure John from Cincinnati (2007) from a new perspective. Emilio Audissino’s penultimate chapter engages in the debate over style versus substance and authorship in relation to Police Squad! (1982) and the volume concludes with Bignell’s reflection on these debates and on television, more broadly, through an analysis of The Time Tunnel (1966-7).
Conclusion
Given a subject which is potentially limitless, the three volumes of the Moments in Television series offer a rich array of responses to the provocative dyads highlighted in each title. Perhaps a shortcoming (other than the very expensive price) is the focus on US/UK drama over other genres. Since the publication of these three volumes, the book series has released another entitled Epic/everyday (2023) that promises to expand the debates yet again. In an era of debates about the death of ‘legacy television’ and the triumph of streaming platforms, Moments in Television re-centres the discussion on television aesthetics, unapologetically elevating television to the status of art. Within this art, ‘the moment’ continues to take on new meanings and currency with audiences, scholars and critics alike, and these volumes prove their worth.