That expression “You have to pick your battles” comes to mind right about now. But it seems that at every fornight there is a new object or movie that beautiful son “just has to” have or see. Indeed, were parents to fall for each and every whim of our children, most of us would be in the poor house. (And yes, I know there is no such place, but since lockdown this is more of stark reality than it is a metaphor for most).
As a parent we are all called to the task of sacrificing sleep, time and money–even at the expense of our own wardrobes–for our children’s needs and capriciousness. We live through our children and we learn that they come first from the minute they come into our lives. It’s an easy process for those of us who just weeks earlier were celebrating our last outing with friends, our last hooray to our childless days.
The one thing I was not fully prepared for was the quantity of marketing directed soley at children. Marketing experts were smart to rachet up this particular sector since it is invariably directed at parents, by using the child as transmitter of knowledge: “Daddy, did you hear that the latest Sonic movie is out! We absolutely have to see it.” Note how he puts “we” into the sentence. And just earlier today, he tells me, “Daddy, remember that movie that you wanted to see?” “Which one, my love?” I ask him. “Minecraft,” he responds without batting an eye. And what skin is it off my back if he needs to believe that I too am mad about Minecraft!?
But it is. I would rather be waterboarded while being made to listen to REO Speedwagon on repeat!
As parents, we are expected to sacrifice and laugh about it later. But what is there to gain for my son from a film which is solely about product placement and revitalising a v2.0 in the Minecraft
All this reminds me of the first episode of the excellent series, The Studio, where our protagonist, Matt Remick (played by Seth Rogan), is suddenly promoted to head of a studio. A lover of art cinema and a believer in narrative, Remick finds himself in a pickle where he is put in charge of a project that threatens his humiliation (or that of Continental Studios): he is asked to make “a Kool-Aid” movie. Wanting to pursue his love of auteur cinema, Remick bristles at the idea of a product placement movie about Kool-Aid. Then by sheer coincidence, he stumbles upon Martin Scorsese who has a project he wants a studio to develop that involves Kool-Aid (tangentially).
Eager to meet the demands of his boss and his own ambition to create auteur cinema, Remick jumps at the chance and accepts Scorsese’s project off the bat. It is only later when Remick tells the story to his team that the Kool-Aid movie Scorsese plans to make is not like Barbie, nor is it in any way light and fun: it is the tale of Jim Jones. It’s a wonderfully biting criticism of Hollywood and even funnier than it is critical.
But here I am with my ten-year-old son who wants me to pursue capitalism for the sake of his desire to tell his mates at school, “I saw it too.” Do I cave into the plasticity of media messages that are to the brain and soul what what white flour is to the body? Or do I keep on this ferris wheel of capitalistic choices. And there will be another one next week, and the week after.
Thoughts on the commodifacton of childhood and of family life. Where is Thoreau?
