Friends,
You really went and did it: You made me feel better about television this year, and I am truly grateful for it. Year after year I find myself slowy transforming into a TV apostate, and that’s not a great place to be when you have to watch so much of it. So Grinch begone! A new year sparkles ahead! Or at least I hope it sparkles! Either way, the TV won’t stop. Even before the year is through, we are going to get Bridgerton, a Shonda Rhimes–produced Downton Abbey–Gossip Girl mashup, which I swear is an accurate description and not me just stringing together a bunch of proper nouns willy-nilly. Race-blind Masterpiece Theater sounds like it should spawn a thousand think pieces, but Bridgerton really just wants to be your holiday binge. I may even oblige, while checking out Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!, the show I most want to watch after reading other critics Top 10 lists. As ever, there is more we could discuss, shows we didn’t dive deep on or even mention, topics we didn’t tackle Schitt we didn’t stir. (Wish I had known your feelings about that sitcom, Emily—I would have instigated from the sidelines!) But that’s what TV is these days: too much, in all of the ways. That I believe too much to be fundamentally preferable to too little has something to do with why I liked TV so much in the first place. So here’s to another year of our messy, captivating idiot box—and to all of you, too. I really had fun.
Happy holidays. Be safe, be well, be happy,
Willa
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The TV Club, 2020 - Slate
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