I’d like to say I’m pretty cultured. I read obscure 1930’s novels and The Guardian, I watch independent films in independent cinemas and I like tapas. However, I have a cultural black spot. I believe everyone has one of these, either deep, deep down, or maybe worn proudly on your sleeve. No matter how pretentious somebody is, no matter how many operas they’ve seen, even if they have an RSC membership, they have a dirty little guilty pleasure lurking in the back of their mind when they sit down to watch La Traviata.
My black spot is not a deep secret, my friends and family know all about it, but it’s not something I wish to broadcast. Like an embarrassing but not contagious illness, I mention it if it comes up in conversation, but otherwise I keep it between me and my iPlayer history. I love EastEnders.
Now, there are some who may not think that that’s too bad, but there are others who will wail in horror with mad, starey eyes, pulling out their hair at the prospect of those legendary drums. I know people who can’t be in the same room as the Walford inhabitants, which has led to my viewing being confined to the padded cell of my room, where I cannot disturb those more cultured than me (no doubt watching Bridezillas or I Used To Be Fat).
As TV guilty pleasures go, I think a sixteen year old, dramatic, tragic and comic series, featuring people you know better than some members of your extended family, is one of the better ones. Soaps get a bad press, and yes, sometimes the acting isn’t strictly method, but it really is harmless fun. EastEnders is often chastised for being too sad, too tragic, too unrealistic, but I genuinely believe that they bravely tackle issues which people are too scared to properly confront in other media (paedophilia, spousal abuse and teenage prostitution, just off the top of my head). And isn’t all the best drama tragic? Look at Hamlet, King Lear, Macbeth. If Romeo and Juliet were soap characters, would it lessen their poignancy?
So I am proud of my guilty pleasure. I’m not quite shouting it from the rooftops, but I’m not going to hide it away. They say the lows make the highs, and I’m doing pretty well in other respects. But what about you? Are you a sucker for teenage pregnancy docs? Do you love nothing more than settling down to a critically despised mega money rom-com/explosion-fest? Tell us about it in the comments.
Remember, the first step is admitting it to yourself.
Very nice article, Ferris; delving into the unapproachable is always refreshing.
Good observation. I admit that in between trips to the opera, I watch a lot of South Park. But, like you, I’d defend this by pointing to the cleverly problematised social issues, metafiction and delightfully crude animation. It’s from South Park I have learnt most of the facts about Scientology, Mormonism, hate crimes and the American Civil War. So I’d say that this spot is more brown than black.