Columnists
My tiny island beachfront paradise fixer upper
There comes a time when a man is ready just to sink into his chair and watch television, mindlessly, on his own. Actually, if you ask a spouse familiar with his habits, she will probably say that time seems to arrive whenever there is a game of some sort on, or failing that, whenever a 24-hour news channel is broadcasting.
I will not dignify that with a response. But there also comes a time when a man is ready to sink into his chair and watch television, mindlessly, together with his wife. All of the spirited conversation about the positive aspects of the Donald Trump regime has been exhausted, there is no high art tragedy readily available to watch, and sports and news are out of the question.
So what do my wife and I watch when we want to enjoy our lowest common entertainment denominator together? We consult the myriad of home renovation shows on HGTV.
The premise behind the shows is always about the same. A couple is stuck in a hellhole with parquet floors, or a single vanity in the ensuite, or a kitchen that lacks a subway tile backsplash. A major renovation or a move is obviously called for. Through the efforts of a valiant contractor and/or real estate agent, they are led through the valley of ‘death by a thousand decisions’ to a perfectly realized conclusion that comes in about on time and around budget.
Along the way, misadventures worthy of Don Quixote befall them (“that looks like water behind that drywall”; “there’s nothing holding that beam up”). Yet all obstacles are overcome, with a mandatory round of high fives.
Interviewed concluding the show a month after completion of the project (when any psychologist would agree that they would still be in justification mode) the couple gratefully intone that this was the best decision they have ever made as they have found their “forever” home. Unlike in real life, the professional/client relationship never goes sour; or if it does, the footage ends up on the cutting room floor.
Home renovation shows are mini-dramas wrapped up and packaged so that you know exactly what you are getting. You can look down on the protagonists, and scold them for their profligacy (“Why did she have to tear out those perfectly serviceable white cupboards just to replace them with black ones?”); or you identify with their struggle and root for them (“Yes, good idea to take that wood-burning fireplace out of the basement.”). Either way, you are safely removed from the combat zone and won’t be spoiling the outcome.
The shows depend heavily on the likability of the subject couple: they’re the ones spending the money. They must be immune to the fact that their domestic life and decision-making skills are under the scrutiny of the camera and audience. (If this sounds like your cup of tea, there is a casting call out at the moment on the HGTV website for participation in the show Love it or List it Vancouver.You must, in addition to having the necessary resources, be “fun and outgoing.” The lineup forms to the right).
Earlier, I called the number of reno shows a “myriad.” Indeed, I tip my hat to the HGTV programmers’ ability to come up with a twist on the formula by constantly adding new shows. Need a new makeover show? How about a series with an all-female renovation crew, catering to scratch and win lottery millionaires! Need a home purchase show? How about one focused on resale offgrid residences built for first time homebuyers? Want a relocation show? How about having one in which midlife crises prompt couples to abandon middle America for exotic Eastern European locales.
In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were generated by computer algorithms. Or monkeys at typewriters. My Dream Flipper- Upper Caribbean Reno or My DIY Rehab Retreat, Whatever titles are generated, however, the plots would continue to be predictable.
And that’s precisely why my wife and I look forward to spending lots of low quality time together with HGTV. We’re predictable too.
Comments (0)