Column: Image to Image: Musings on Faith, Media, and Story
September entry: “Royle Watchers” (October 2024)
Column Description: Image to Image: Musings on Faith, Media, and Story is a monthly column that illuminates old and new ideas about media ecology from a Christian perspective. Dr. Mitchell will explore what it means to bear God’s image and Christian witness in a mediated world, with a particular focus on the relationships between theology, media, and orthopraxy across different Christian traditions.
By Chase Mitchell, Ph.D.
Assistant Professor of Media and Communication, East Tennessee State University
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Royle Watchers
French philosopher Blaise Pascal wrote that “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” That was in 1654, when sitting in a room alone was arguably much easier to do than it is today, with our devices and screens to distract us.
Nowadays, even when we’re “alone,” as in physically removed from others by walls or space, our digital apparatus keeps us tethered to the global hive. Email and social media notifications, text messages, calls, and sundry other alerts—altogether we’ve made an environment in which solitude is rare.
Ironically, though, this new media ecology has had another effect. Even when we’re physically in the company of other people, that is, we lean into our devices and away from interpersonal fellowship. In Alone Together, Sherry Turkle observes, “Our networked life allows us to hide from each other, even as we are tethered to each other. We’d rather text than talk.”
And so it is: In our hypermediated environment, real solitude is nearly impossible and face-to-face interaction is fractured and fragmented.
Was it better before? When, and why?
In my estimation, the media ecology of the late twentieth century—i.e., TV’s heyday—was better suited to healthier familial, communal, and even political life. I make this claim recognizing and admitting that it is surely colored by my own nostalgia. As a child of the 80’s and 90’s, it’s difficult to objectively evaluate the merits of that period’s technological milieu. There’s a better way to make the argument, anyway.
If you’ve never seen it, go watch a few episodes of the British sitcom The Royle Family. The show’s first three seasons (or series, in Brit-speak) aired on BBC from 1998-2000, which were followed by specials from 2006-2012. The protagonist is Jim Royle (played by Ricky Tomlinson), patriarch of a working-class Manchester family, whose days largely consist of sitting on his armchair, flipping channels on the “telly,” and poking fun at his family members. The entirety of the show is set in their small Manchester council house (public housing project).
Most often, the family sits around the small family television waiting for Antiques Roadshow to begin. Their attention and gaze are only infrequently broken by Jim’s wise cracks, a visiting neighbor, or Jim’s son Anthony returning home from playing footy. Jim’s wife, Barbara, and adult daughter, Denise, chain smoke and gossip about the neighborhood characters, Antony’s new “posh” girlfriend, and fiancé Dave’s DJ business. Jim and Dave enjoy teaming up to torment Antony about his love life and failed band. Jim constantly berates Antony for his laziness, even though Jim is the laziest of the bunch, forcing others to make his tea and answer the door. Barbara’s mother, Norma, is a source of constant irritation for Jim. A widower, she makes no secret of the fact that the decent thing would be for Jim and Barbara to take her in. Despite Jim’s protests, Norma joins the family on the couch most nights, contributing to the family banter.
I don’t have the space here to detail specific episodes’ plots, or explain character dynamics beyond what I’ve already done. It’s beside the point. If you watch more than a couple episodes, you’ll find that the magic of The Royle Family is in its capacity to make the viewer feel as if they’re part of the family. Why is that?
I think it’s because in the Royle’s home, the family is gathered around a hearth—the TV—and their shared life is consummated in the everyday, mundane, sacred ritual of being together. Yes, it’s true that they don’t always communicate because they’re focused instead on the television; and it’s also true that even when they do speak to each other, it’s almost always unserious or profane. Sometimes they really dislike each other. But there’s no pretense. They are themselves, and they are together. Antony isn’t texting his girlfriend; Dave isn’t checking his work emails; Denise isn’t streaming her reality TV whilst Jim is in the next room watching footy.
There is an intimacy in attending to the same thing, no matter how banal it may be. It’s strange that I only came to this realization by watching a TV show about a family watching TV.
The Royle Family reminds me of what we lost with the advent of the internet and the smartphone. Our relationships are often fractured because our attention is fragmented. Of course, our attention is rightly directed, primarily, toward Jesus, not the telly. Our daily and weekly habits, and our relationships, should be attuned to the ways in which Christ is calling us to live. But I would argue that, despite their foibles, the Royles are better equipped than we are to simply be together—to pay attention as one. We’ve lost that ability, and I lament it.
I like to joke with my wife that The Royle Family—both the show and the lifestyle it depicts—is the height of Western civilization. She doesn’t think so, but to me it’s an honest portrayal of the simplicity and holiness of life together.
* The views of any CCSN columnists are their own, and do not necessarily represent the views of the CCSN. We invite and embrace a wide range of views and critiques on important communication and cultural issues from a Christian perspective. The CCSN is a community of Jesus followers who study communication. We do not support or promote a particular social, political, or denominational agenda.