There's precisely one reaction channel that I actually like, LM Reactions.
I'm not an avid watcher, I'm not sure if I've ever even watched a full video of theirs start to finish, I only watch reactions for shows that I've seen to completion, and I skim through them being that… well, I already watched them.
I like them though because they're not blankly staring at the screen for forty minutes, while also not talking over every scene every two seconds. They're emotionally invested in the shows they watch, but they're also very attentive, picking up nuances and details in the storytelling. Mainly they're unabashedly themselves, to the point where I've now saved in my memory banks a Serbian phrase or two.
It's the one channel I've seen that actually accomplishes what the core goal of Reaction Content seems to be: Living vicariously. Seeing someone experience something for the first time just like you did.
Now, they're going through The Sopranos.
The show's quality comes through in just how these two clap their hands in excitement at the beginning of each episode, at just the idea of getting to watch more of this iconic drama, and the excitement never stops…
Until Season 3 Episode 4…
Employee of the Month…
If you know, you know.
At first, things seemed easier in the following episode, the show returning to its… not comedic, but delightful absurdity, and profoundly in-depth look at one's insecurity, how it manifests in contradictory behavior, even from somebody as seemingly powerful as Tony Soprano.
Then Season 3 Episode 6 is watched…
University…
If you know, you know.
They haven't quit watching the show, but, especially compared to how things started, I think it's safe to say they're slightly scared by the show.
The impact of The Sopranos I don't think can be overstated. Unlike The Wire or Breaking Bad, The Sopranos didn't need time to find an audience, it had it from the word go, and it grew to an American phenomena. Maybe one of the reasons The Wire didn't find a large audience at the time of its release, was because they were the lead into The Sopranos, the show every adult hosted Sunday watch-parties for.
Doesn't matter how intense the show might've been, it was undeniably pop culture.
Yet, it scared people.
Maybe even scarred them.
One of my favorite songs of all time is My Favorite Game by The Cardigans. It's been firmly planted in my brain stem ever since I first booted up the Arcade Disc for Gran Turismo 2, and I don't care how popular the intros are for the game's EU and JA versions, those intros are sacrilege.
However, I could never properly look at the music video.
In it, the lead singer is finding a boulder to leave on the accelerator of her ragged open-top convertible. Storming through the desert roads at top-speed, driving deliberately into oncoming traffic, eventually standing on top of the driver's seat, hands in the air, eyes closed, and you can infer how that concludes.
Being a child that's just lost in a catchy melody, that scared me.
When I say scared, I don't mean… being in a dark theater watching a horror film and screaming when the scary monster reveals itself in a close-up flash. It's more, letting art take you to a place that is uncomfortable while you are ostensibly there for entertainment.
People tuned into Sopranos to laugh at Paulie.
I listened to a pop song to jam.
Yet, we'd still walk away from these mainstream artworks rattled on mass…
Generally, I see the 2000s characterized by its sheer absurdity, and don't get me wrong, there is a unique amusement when looking back at the era. So much shit that is trying so god damn hard to be _____ it goes full circle to become adorably funny, you could picture the era as just Limp Bizkit, 2 Fast 2 Furious, MTV, Pop Idol, Bratz, Shake Ya Ass, Toxic, The Sims, Transformers, and Elf.
However, that ignores The Dark Knight scaring people in the theater, Johnny Cash's Hurt reducing everyone to tears in under four minutes, millions watching Dexter carve people into pieces, and Modern Warfare 2's emergency broadcast making everyone panic during a loading screen.
That power from the era isn't exclusive, it is still being done today, it's just much harder because well…
We weren't so desensitized then.
Think about how often we look back at it and think "Man, simpler times."
It shouldn't be, but compared to a global pandemic now just being a thing that happened? World War 3 being an ironic hashtag on social-media websites? Open assassination attempts and successes on key political and corporate leaders?
Yeah, simpler times, and that's reflected in our art.
I mean… really, how is an artist supposed to surprise an audience today? How much harder is it to scare an audience when they've most likely already been scarred by the real world they live in? How can you be shocked in a movie about a terrorist attack? Nuclear devastation? Even personal torment like illness, loneliness, or isolation? We've all lived it, and even if we haven't, we've seen it, a lot.
Squid Game didn't explode because it was scary.
It exploded because it was relatable.
When I think of recent works that capture that 2000s unease, I don't so much think of Squid Game, but…
Chainsaw Man.
In Squid Game, I know why I'm feeling what I feel; in this era of meta-modern art, that's often the point, and it's really effective in its own way. I loved Squid Game. I loved Everything Everywhere All at Once. However, I think that childlike fear art from the 2000s so often conveyed stems from opposite, about not knowing why, not being able to precisely pin point why you feel so on edge, you just know that you are.
There's so many things about the 2000s that fascinate me, and have me writing about it, and building so many fictional stories around it, but in-terms of emotion, what an audience member is supposed to feel, I think this is what I've been chasing after.
Perhaps this is ironic as someone often put in the category of Essayist, but after years of deconstructing, twisting, predicting, and relating, I want to just leave audiences to interpret.
Holy Shift
2025-01-10 15:23:34 +0000 UTC