As a TV critic, maybe I should stop shouting at the screen

Lately, I’ve found myself doing something I’m genuinely ashamed of. It’s not anything like cock-fighting or shoplifting. It’s simpler but still far from ideal—I’ve started shouting at people on TV. I take everything on-screen personally now. “You’re being immature!” I find myself yelling at the characters in the teen drama Euphoria. During The Bear, I scold Jamie Lee Curtis as though we’re on the brink of a messy divorce. Watching Djokovic in the Wimbledon final pushed me to near hoarseness. “Why not joylessly grind out every point until you win, like a factory that makes trophies?” I yelled. And then he lost and gave a touching speech, leaving me feeling awful.

This is not at all charming, I assure you. I never used to be this way—like an old man shouting at clouds. I decided to conduct a little experiment by revisiting older shows I love and know well. Even with outcomes that were no longer in doubt, I remained the same crotchety person, concluding absurd things like “selfish and a bad friend” about Phoebe from Friends. To top it off, I had plenty of unasked-for advice during a rewatch of Lord of the Rings. All this while I’m hardly the master of my own domain, sitting in the dark shouting “You’re a weak king!” at the wall.

Adding to my shame is the fact that I once looked down on people who got overly agitated by entertainment. I scorned those who got swept up in soap operas or campaigned to free fictional characters from their predicaments. And now, here I am.

I’m genuinely concerned that I’ll lose work as a critic because I’m exposing myself as either gullible or unhinged. On an intellectual level, I understand how drama works—story beats, character tropes, narrative arcs. I’d like to think I’m sophisticated in this field. Yet, despite this knowingness, I still get swept up in the manipulations of writers, shouting at characters like they owe me a personal debt.

It’s a troubling realization. Technically speaking, I’m in a parasocial relationship with all the inhabitants of my TV screen. Parasocial relationships, those one-sided dynamics with people we don’t actually know, have become intensely common in this digital age. Social media feeds blur the lines, putting celebrities’ personal posts right next to those of real friends, colleagues, and loved ones.

However, my way of engaging in these parasocial relationships is far from enjoyable. While fans of Beyoncé or Taylor Swift find joy and community in their shared passion, I’m just simmering with frustration at characters who aren’t even real.

Do you do this too? Does shouting at the TV develop with age, like a newfound appreciation for comfy walking shoes? Is it something we inherit culturally? When I watch movies with my mother, I notice she also talks to the screen, though her commentary is more concern-based. She’ll peep things like “The dog has slipped the collar!” Meanwhile, I’m more judgmental.

This leads me to think that a specific psychological trigger must be activated to make polite people, like me and perhaps you, lose our cool. For me, it’s characters making poor choices. It’s ironic because that’s what drama is fundamentally about—conflict and bad decisions.

Why am I so sensitive to characters making destructive choices or being rude and ungenerous? Perhaps it’s a mirror of my own past mistakes. Or maybe it’s broader than that. The vulnerability we feel as a society seems to weigh heavily on me. It’s clear that we need to be our bravest and most farsighted selves to make it. Yet, our fate often hinges on the flaws of individuals—be they tech billionaires, narcissistic politicians, or keyboard vigilantes.

In this existential dread, good actors on screen provide a focal point for my anxiety. They let me vent in my own home. There’s solace in knowing that emotional involvement with stories is natural and necessary. Being at a remove, culturally sophisticated, doesn’t make one better. It often means missing out. Now, everything matters to me.

That said, I struggle to enjoy my stint as a spluttering, reverse Truman Show Cassandra. If you have any tips on how to curb this annoying habit, please send them my way. I’m sure I’ll get the message.

Source: The Guardian