Yesterday, while thumbing through the latest edition of Vanity Fair, a quote from the movie Morning Glory leapt out at me. In the film a young TV morning show producer squares off with a veteran news warhorse, quipping: “The world has been debating news versus entertainment for years, and guess what? You lost.”
First of all, that’s just plain wrong. It was never a debate. Entertainment has always trumped news.
But what got to me was the intimation that this is inherently a bad thing. As if somehow entertainment is synonymous with frivolous. As in, news has weight, gravitas and the power to inform, while entertainment is diverting, ineffectual fluff.
Really? Not according to recent study in which college age women were shown 
either a news-format program on the hardships of teen pregnancy or . . . an episode of the teen-drama The O.C., in which high-school students grappled with the consequences of an unintended pregnancy.
The result? Those who watched the news program were unmoved, reporting absolutely no change in their intention to use birth control. Not so those who watched The O.C.’s Ryan and Theresa struggling with a predicament they sure didn’t want to find themselves in.
Why did the story – mere entertainment — have a far greater impact on something so life-altering? Let’s listen to one of the researchers:
“Many of the women were able to put themselves in the place of the characters and sense they could end up in a similar situation if they weren’t careful,” Emily Moyer-Gusé, co-author of the study said.
Which is probably why even when contacted two weeks later, women who reported identifying with Ryan and Theresa still felt more vulnerable, and expressed a greater intention to use birth control.
“One of the reasons some people avoid safer sex behaviors is because they feel invulnerable — they have this optimistic bias that nothing bad will ever happen to them,” Moyer-Gusé said. “But if you vicariously experience a bad result by watching a narrative program, that may change behavior in a way that is difficult to achieve through a direct message.”
Yes, yes, yes! Story is more powerful than facts. Much more. But rather than being the opposite of “news,” story is what humanizes it and makes it accessible. It’s how we put the facts into a context that gives them relevance, thus translating them from the objective into the personal. It’s the conduit that allows us to feel the facts.
Which means that as storytellers we wield great power. Even when we’re writing something that might seem utterly frivolous, like say, an episode of The O.C.
What about you? Has an episode of a TV show ever changed your life? Do tell!
The show that affected me the most was Ed Sullivan’s Show and the night I first saw the Beatles. My stepsister and I screamed and screamed as my stepfather covered his ears. I suppose my life did change after that, as well as my country, my world. Great piece!
Thanks so much! I remember that night too, watching the Beatles on an old flickery B&W TV, somehow it felt so much more immediate than Bonanza or Gunsmoke. Amazing how a phenomenon that big could feel so intimate. You’re so right, it changed everything!
Not one particular episode of television, but one particular episode IN television. I worked for ABC Sports, Inc. when its president, Roone Arledge, took over ABC News. I went from my happy world of NFL highlight to building “obituary clip reels” that were always ready in case a notable figure passed away. Then I learned the “If it bleeds, it leads” philosophy, and realized just how many “special reports” were actually filler segments that had been “on the shelf” for days and even weeks. “Story is more powerful than facts.” Yep, I agree…especially during the sweeps.
Obit clip reels. Yikes. Imagine you’re a famous so-and-so and you get word that in some newsroom somewhere an underpaid obit staffer just got the go ahead to begin compiling a reel of your greatest hits, just in case. But you’re young, kinda, and you start wondering, do they know something you don’t know? Sounds like the beginning of a story, don’t you think?
Love this post Lisa. It’s so true! Otherwise we wouldn’t be drawn to “bad” movies and “bad” TV so much. There’s a reason these shows have ratings. Love, love, love it. Now I don’t feel so bad about writing what I would call a “popcorn” book!
Thanks Megan! You’re so right. Although of course personally I only watch shows like 24 for scholarly purposes (think she bought it?), they’re like crack cocaine. Don’t get me started on The Sopranos, The Wire, Breaking Bad and my all time favorite, Father Knows Best (you’d be surprised how startlingly timely it is — provided you can filter out the sexism and the fact that everyone’s white). And speaking of addiction, I love popcorn too, so I can’t wait to read your book.
I know exactly what you mean! For example when I was in school, history class was such an unrelenting slog. I always thought if we read a novel that embodied the era we were studying it would be so much easier to remember all those dates, wars, kings, calvinists, etc. Facts harnessed to emotion stick with you. Learn history through story, make it personal to get to the general! Great post!
I consider myself fortunate in that I my grandparents loved to tell us stories: Dick Whittington going off to London with his belongings tied up in a spotted handkerchief. (“Turn around, Dick Whittington! Lord Mayor of London!”) Little Red Riding Hood. Goldielocks and the Three Bears. My grandmother was always ready to wipe her hands on a tea towel, sit down at her kitchen table and begin: “Once upon a time….”
My grandfather liked to tell stories of his adventures: a trip to visit his mother 20 miles away, only to discover he’d missed the last train home. The stationmaster took pity on him, fired up an engine and gave him a lift back. In my mind’s eye, I see Granddad riding shotgun as the train thunders through the night.
My favorite story of his, though, was about York Minster, the cathedral where he worked. I thought he was a very important man: he had a heavy ring of iron keys that unlocked every door. My mother would leave my sister and me there sometimes while she shopped. He would take us exploring: up to the eaves where hidden gargoyles lurked, out onto the roof for a pigeon’s eye view of the city, through doors that led to hidden balconies, where we could look down on the tourists in the nave hundreds of feet below.
In fact, my grandfather was the dean’s gardener, who worked in the Minster polishing the brass lectern when the weather was inclement. Here, then is a story he used to tell:
He was called to the Minster one night (at midnight!) by the dean. Several men were waiting when he arrived. They went down to the crypt, which was newly excavated as a result of work being done to shore up the foundation.
My grandfather’s job was to help remove the lid from a coffin. Inside was the body of an archbishop, in full regalia. An enormous ring, (ruby?), shone in my grandfather’s flashlight. A few moments, his robes and flesh dissolved into dust, so that only his skeleton remained.
If I was Aladdin and the genie offered me three wishes, my first would be to be back in my grandparents’ sitting room, listening to my grandfather’s stories.
“Tell us again, Granddad! The one about the archbishop at midnight!” He would settle back in his chair, putting aside his paperback, (a Western, almost certainly) and begin.
“Well, let me see now. It was one morning and I was at work. I was putting the daffodils in, so it must have been late November. The dean came out and said to me: ‘Now, Bill, there’s a job to be done in the Minster, and I’m of the mind that you are the man to do it. Meet me at the south door, just before midnight…’”
Great stories, Joy! Talk about leaving us wanting more! I can just see him go to dust (who needs CGI when you have an imagination!). I’m dying to know why they wanted him to open the archbishop’s coffin. Were they after the ring? What happened next?