A Very Netflix Lent

As Lent comes to a close this weekend, I’ve been reflecting on my lackadaisical attitude toward fasting and abstinence over the season. I searched for loopholes, sacrificing trivial pleasures like chocolate and bacon and ignoring my one, true addiction: movies. More specifically, this addiction has led me to one ridiculously time-consuming habit: Netflix binging.

“You are forgiven. Your penance shall be six episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race.”

Fortunately, I know I’m not alone. Wherever I go, conversations revolve around one’s progress in Netflix and Hulu. People treat it like it’s their job. You never see anyone give up their jobs for Lent, do you? While jobs provide us with a living, Netflix awards us a far more valuable currency in everyday life: 1) the smug satisfaction of knowing every pop culture reference and 2) an immunity to all spoilers at the watercooler.

The Breaking Bad Quality Assurance Team.

The TV days of tuning in next week and enduring cliffhangers together might be gone, but only to make way for much wider access to a whole new world of motion pictures we’d never have discovered without Netflix. That is if you’re not too hung up on How I Met Your Mother. Now that Lent is over, consider this a list of new temptations to indulge in.

TV Shows

If the Classics and Oscar-winning films are gateway drugs, then television shows must surely be crack cocaine. Nothing gives you a better high than your first Arrested Development bender. But when every episode and season has suddenly dried up, you’ll squint through blood-shot eyes and find yourself sitting in a pool of shame and Chex Mix…

And hiring an employee to smuggle movies in her anal cavity.

…Only to proceed deeper into the TV category. Anything to quench your insatiable appetite for episodic stimulation. My personal poison? Retro television. The self-contained stories in Star Trek and Mission: Impossible always get the job done. There’s a charm to their modest entertainment, and to their devotion to character. And the high brings you back down nice and easy.

And right back to your dealer.

Do you know more about cooking meth than you’d like to admit? Are Congressman Francis Underwood’s victories and failures your own? Have you figured out all your friends’ jobs aboard the USS Enterprise? Then perhaps it’s time you went outside and remembered that reality moves much faster than 24 frames per second.

And once you’re refreshed, log back in and check out the amazing things the Brits are doing on the small screen.

British Television

I’m willing to bet your first encounter with British TV happened during your first memories of flipping through the channels. You came upon a staticky transmission of Last of the Summer Wine on PBS. You stuck around for the funny accents. You got through maybe three jokes (at least the laugh-track told you so), spoken in a language you knew you should understand but definitely didn’t, before flipping back to Babar. You soon promised yourself you’d never return as long as Mr. Bean wasn’t on the screen brushing his teeth out a car window.

Well, what if I told you that British television is not just an outlet for Simon Cowell’s bad mood? That it’s not only watchable, but in many ways superior to what you think is quality television? The first five minutes of Sherlock should be enough to put any doubts to rest. And the first two episodes of Luther might even turn you into an expatriate.

“If I say you’re a Brit now, then that’s what you are, innit? Now stop crying. You’re a disgrace.”

As for actually laughing at British comedy, I tell you it’s not all as dry as old biscuits. Try The IT Crowd for a good old-fashioned sit-com. If you’ve got the mettle for something much darker, like a self-loathing, stoner Seinfeld, try Peep Show. You won’t regret it.

Independent Films

In easily one of their best sections, Netflix has compiled an impressive collection of must-see indies. Not nearly as arcane as the Criterion Collection on Hulu, the Independent section will make any movie-watcher cinematically literate without being pretentious. You’ll soon learn that mumble-core is a fading fad and regret the day you ever met Gaspar Noé. Make sure to sample some of Ingmar Bergman and Jim Jarmusch’s filmography in case you ever encounter a Criterion junkie. They’re a far less forgiving bunch than Kevin Smith and Charlie Kaufman fans.

“You like linear narrative and likeable characters? What are you, a philistine?”

Quirky Documentaries

Thanks to the cost and availability of film equipment, documentary films have become much more popular among independent filmmakers. Just look through YouTube and Vimeo to find countless short docs full of rack focus and indie music by aspiring cinematographers. Inevitably, there’s also been a surge of documentaries about special interest topics and inside jokes. Winnebago Man, I Think We’re Alone Now, Shut Up Little Man!, Exit Through the Gift Shop, and Man on Wire are all excellent examples. They explore bizarre stories that might never have gone beyond their 15 minutes of fame if not for the obsessed fans who sifted through hours of footage. The results are poignant examinations of the human desire for meaning and attention. They highlight the hidden side of our mundane reality and elevate it to legendary heights.

Or just bring you right back to your dad’s driving lessons.

Children & Family

Chances are you once saw one of your favorite childhood shows on Netflix’s front page and couldn’t resist the urge to revisit it. You remember it as totally mature, laden with subtext and far more nuanced than whatever crap the kids are watching these days.

Is it just me or was Angry Beavers really about Isreal and Palestine? Anyone?

How wrong you were. They were meant for a certain time in your life, a time when your burgeoning imagination filled in the gaps in dialogue and shoddy animation. And they should stay there. You’re the person you are thanks to those cartoons, but it’s time you moved on. There’s only disillusionment for you if you turn back.

Unless it’s Rocko’s Modern Life. That show was filthy.

The movies, though, are the ones that usually hold up over time. James and the Giant Peach and The Great Mouse Detective are just as magical as before, and Atlantis: The Lost Empire might be even better now. Appreciate them while you still can and don’t let yourself get too jaded. Besides, it’s better than watching creepy anime schoolgirls alone in your room.

I took a wrong turn somewhere.

6 Lessons from the Star Trek Pilot

The recent news about Star Wars had me wondering about J.J. Abrams, so I looked into his previous work, which of course led me to his Star Trek reboot, reminding me of the original series, a show I never took the time to watch.

When I snapped out of it, I was 4 movies deep into a Kevin Bacon marathon.

Having been raised on Star Wars, I believed that Star Trek was on the uncool side of nerdy. I didn’t know any kid who didn’t like Star Wars, so by default I was safe. To make matters worse, the Trekkies movies were as effective deterrents as terrifying anti-drug PSA’s.

This is your brain on The Original Series.

Once friends and strangers advertised Star Trek to me as the philosophical, thinking-man’s science fiction, my interest was piqued. Lo and behold, the remastered Original Series appeared on Netflix. Sure, 79 episodes would be a daunting task, but one I would gladly surmount in the name of tolerance and geeky solidarity.

But how would Star Trek introduce itself to unsuspecting audiences or, even worse, prejudiced newbies like myself? How would Gene Roddenberry sneak a progressive  agenda into entertainment for viewers accustomed to Lassie and Flash Gordon?

No dangerous ideas here. Just me and Flash’s fantastic abs.

That’s what I resolved to find out, trying my best to ignore hilarious outfits and Spock’s inconsistent eyebrows. Those were expected. It was the oddly outdated value system in the pilot episode, “The Cage,” that caught me off guard. So, I present to you Six Lessons I Learned from the Star Trek Pilot.

If you wanna play with the big boys, you gotta act like one.

The crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise have just intercepted a distress signal from the planet Talos IV. Captain Christopher Pike (James T. Kirk takes command 13 years later) orders a rescue mission. As they prepare to land, he bumps into the new female yeoman. She leaves and Pike confesses to Number One, “She does a good job all right, it’s just that I can’t get used to having a woman on the bridge.” An unfortunately honest comment, except that Number One is also a woman. He double-takes, looks at her apologetically, their eyes sharing the burden of millennia of misogyny, and says, “No offense, lieutenant. You’re different of course.”

“I can fart in front of you like you’re one of the guys.”

He proceeds to tell her that, for this mission, she has to stay on the bridge, further proving that he doesn’t consider her the opposite sex, but just another male crew member. If Number One doesn’t seem womanly enough, it’s because she’s stifled her femininity to survive in this man’s world. And if the new yeoman wants to make it anywhere, she better man up and act like a man.

Pure intellect has nothing on the sweaty, brute force of a dashing captain.

The marooned crew in distress turns out to be an illusion and Pike is trapped by a race of psychic beings with highly evolved brains. Years ago Talos IV became uninhabitable, forcing the Talosians underground where their brains grew to compensate for their weakened frames. Now they capture organisms and force them to mate in order to repopulate their planet. What a compelling villain, I thought. A great opportunity for a battle of the minds, a conflict between two rational species. I’d forgotten, though, that the target audience in 1966 had entered three wars in the past two decades.

“Surrender your hearts and minds or I’ll stun you in the groin.”

Pike epitomizes American imperialism. If he could, he would blast his way out in a cloud of Agent Orange. Instead, he resorts to flailing around his cage, certain that something will cave under his diamond-cutting jaw and metal-welding blue eyes. He doesn’t even touch the beautiful minx they’ve set aside for copulation. This isn’t mellow, smarmy William Shatner. This is righteous, exemplary Jeffrey Hunter. This man played Jesus.

“My Father can’t protect you now, aliens.”

If your guns don’t work, they’re not big enough.

While Pike beats his heads against a stone wall, the crew tries essentially the same tactic to break down the trapdoor leading underground. First, Spock and two crew members fire their lasers at the door. And again. Then once more, a little longer this time, for good measure. This doesn’t work, so they reconvene on the starship to assess the situation. With everyone’s heads together, they come up with a brilliant new plan: send down a giant laser cannon and fire it at the door.

“Welp. I’m out of ideas.”

Needless to say it doesn’t work. Some say insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. I call it perseverance.

Man’s greatest virtue is hatred.

As Pike tries to force his way out of the cage, he notices that one of his captors starts back in apparent fear. The obvious conclusion here is that Pike’s primitive, human hatred neutralizes the Talosians’ psychic powers. Totally dependent on rational thought, these puny creatures are no match for humanity’s mastery of contempt.

“Don’t move or I’ll hate your head off.”

With two damsels in tow, Pike finally escapes by way of quick reflexes, coercion, and incapacitating a frail Talosian with pure antipathy. Little did Gene Roddenberry know that Star Trek would appeal to people who’d probably identify most with the Talosians.

“Jocks like you forced us underground to cultivate our minds and Magic: The Gathering collections in peace.”

It is better to cling to delusion than to accept reality.

They’re ready to be beamed back up to the Enterprise, but the captive woman refuses to leave Talos IV. The Talosians lift the psychic illusion, revealing the beautiful woman as the deformed old hag she truly is. Pike cringes in revulsion. I almost tapped that? he thinks. She cannot return to human society, not looking like that. Before leaving, Pike takes one last look and sees the old hag, beautiful again, arm in arm with an illusion of Pike created by the Talosians.

Don’t let reality happen to you.

Bartenders are dirty old men.

“Don’t touch me.”