Tag Archives: entertainment

Television’s Last Stand

I nearly cut the cord last week. I wanted to do it earlier, when the hockey and basketball playoffs ended, but some members of my household wanted to watch the FIFA Women’s World Cup, then it was the Pan Am Games…

Which is to say that, in our home at least, live sports is the last remaining reason to pay for cable TV.

It’s a good one, mind you. A hard-fought elite-level sports contest is simply the best entertainment around, involving strong characters, intense pressure, great achievements, profound loss, and far less predictability than 98% of the dramatic storytelling currently out there.

It’s also an incredibly lucrative business, especially for the pro players (not that I don’t think the money should go to those who play the game, as opposed to those who own the teams). Our appetite for professional sports continues to grow—the industry in the aggregate is now said to be worth more than $500 billion globally—and so the scope of the salaries earned by [mostly] men to play games has become patently absurd. The average salary of a Major League Baseball player, for instance, will exceed $4 million this year (That’s the average salary mind you; ‘A Rod,’ the New York Yankees star third baseman, may earn as much as $50 million this year, including marketing bonuses). If Joe Average Baseball Player were to play every minute of every game this summer (and he won’t), he will earn $8230 per hour of playing time. Patently absurd, given the utter lack of intrinsic social value attached to the work he does. Incidentally, Joe is also allotted $100 a day in meal money when he is on the road. Wouldn’t want him to feel the pinch in those expensive hotel restaurants.

But we fans have only ourselves to blame. We’re the ones who fill the stadiums, tune into the games, and yes, pay those cable TV fees, regardless of the cost. We’re the ones who seem to think that our team winning or losing somehow reflects well or poorly on us as individuals. In fact we use terms like “WE won” when a team of players whom we will never meet, and who are only rarely from our home town, never mind our home country, outscores another team that we don’t label ours. It’s more than a little odd.

What’s interesting though, is where the video marketing of big league sports is going. Surely with broadband expanding steadily, and video streaming gaining popularity by the day, it is only a matter of time before these sports franchises begin to control and market their games online, in high quality imagery. Forget ESPN or Rogers Sportsnet. These teams will find ways to make even more money by charging you directly to watch their games via their own internet channels, say in packages featuring certain opposing teams, maybe all home games, or of course with ‘tickets’ for individual games. How can it possibly not go this way?

Well, one possible way is for government agencies to prevent this sort of ‘vertical integration’ of the marketplace, akin to the 1948 antitrust case which prevented Hollywood studios from owning and operating their own theatres, to which they would grant exclusive rights to their movies. Like that case, will we see governments move to forestall undivided control of the production and distribution of sports entertainment?

It remains to be seen; the conventional TV networks have proven to be more resilient than many believed they would be in finding new revenue models (like money from Netflix), but the trends are there. TV viewing declined roughly 10% in the last year, and it’s not like the major sports franchises have to go out and build their brand. It’s there now for them, bigger and better than ever, primed for exploitation via a new medium.

5805107962_48e85060aa_zI’ll likely simply try, at some point, to renegotiate my deal with my cable TV provider. I’ll do my damndest to cherry pick just those channels which carry the games of the teams I like to follow, and my cable provider will do their damndest to ensure that I’m obliged to pick up as many channels as possible in order to do that. Shaw Cable, my provider, for instance and in most obnoxious fashion, spreads the Vancouver Canucks games over four or five of their various channels, then places those various channels in different packages, each of which costs more.

My desire for big league sports entertainment may be a passion which adds meaning to my life, or it may be a pathetic identification with a bunch of rich strangers. Either way, and even if the medium changes, one thing is certain: meeting that desire is not likely to get any cheaper.

Full Circle

There’s some interesting reading to be found in a paper released by the Canadian Media Production Association last week. It’s titled, Content Everywhere: Securing Canada’s Place in the Digital Future, and it offers up an effective survey of the current media landscape. At first glance, suffice it to say that recent trends continue:

* Video progressively rules on the internet—YouTube now has more than one billion unique viewers every month, with 100 hours of video uploaded every minute.

* ‘Cord cutting’, that is escaping the tyranny of cable ‘bundling,’ continues for consumers—an American who owns an iPad now has a 65% likelihood of being a member of the cord cutter tribe.

* As the market penetration of the so-called OTTs (‘Over The Top’ online streamers like Netflix, Amazon and Hulu) continues to grow—one of the OTTs now reaches almost half of all American households; over 60% of the 18 – 24 demographic—they are moving increasingly into the financing of original content.

The ‘old boys’, the established television networks, know all about these trends of course, and so they have, in recent years, moved actively, if still hesitantly into the digital realm. In Canada, Bell Media launched Crave TV in 2014, Rogers and Shaw finally birthed Shomi, and CBC now has an online comedy channel called Punchline. (Conventional TV’s great strength increasingly remains of course in the provision of live events, mostly sports, but also news, and of course the odd award show, although it’s interesting to note that ratings for the Oscars this year were down about 15%.)

Ben Templesmith photo
Ben Templesmith photo

Overall, the evolving picture is of the online media industry maturing, in all the good and bad that that entails. Perhaps most disconcerting is a subtitle within the paper which reads: “Many things about OTT look like TV.” AOL greenlit 16 original series in 2014, all of them featuring major celebrities or movie stars. Pitch meetings with the big-league OTTs are usually booked through agents or entertainment lawyers these days. And we can all be sure that when David Fincher, after House of Cards, pitches his new series, he’ll be strolling into the Netflix offices past a long line of waiting, lesser-known producers who once hoped that the web would provide them with new and different opportunities. Sigh.

And of course, as the paper, points out, creators for the web face a unique set of additional challenges, even as the process morphs into something distressingly familiar. Chief among them are ‘discoverability,’ and an overcrowded marketplace. The gatekeepers for the online game may no longer be the same, but the smaller players still face a huge disadvantage when it comes to putting bums in the seats. They simply don’t have the resources to compete with the big guys at marketing, or at perhaps hiring the talent which comes with a built-in audience.

And finally, if you’re a Canadian hoping to succeed with online content, you face an added problem with financing, because as slow as the big broadcasters have been to move into the online space, the established ‘legacy’ funders, like Telefilm Canada and the tax credit programs, have been even more lead-footed. Because online revenues have been so difficult to realize, these agencies have been extra adept at shuffling their feet and avoiding eye contact whenever, for instance, documentary filmmakers with an online-only audience in mind have come calling.

I’m reminded of the final scenes in George Orwell’s classic Animal Farm, when the pigs move into the farmhouse, begin to walk upright and wear clothes. Or of Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson’s incisive explanation of Why Nations Fail, describing how it is that, following revolutions, tyrants like Robert Mugabe replace tyrants like Ian Smith, how Joseph Stalin replaces Csar Nicolas II. The digital revolution may not have yet completed itself, not yet come right round in what Acemoglu and Robinson term “the vicious circle,” but the streets have gone quiet again. It may be that no one has been sent off to a “knacker” or to the gulag, but if you were among those who dreamed of a better world, or maybe even who manned an online barricade, well, purchase a ticket and get in line. It seems that all along, the digital revolution was for sale, to the highest bidder.

The Wisdom of the Ordinary

“Sometimes I dream of being a good father and good husband. Sometimes that feels really close, but other times it just seems silly, and that it would ruin my life… If I’m totally honest with myself, I’d rather die knowing that I was really good at something, that I was special or had excelled in some way, than to have been in a really nice, caring relationship.”

Jesse, in Before Sunrise, screenplay by Richard Linklater and Kim Krizan

 

16092263739_4d743c338dAs I write this, Richard Linklater’s feature film Boyhood is enjoying a good deal of ‘Oscar buzz.’ The movie, shot over a 12-year period with the same set of actors, has received five separate nominations for an Oscar, and has just won ‘Best Picture’ at the Golden Globe Awards.

I’ve long been a fan of Linklater’s work, ever since first viewing Slacker in 1991. I haven’t yet seen Boyhood. I’m sure it’s a fine movie, but I also wonder if Linklater’s ‘Before…’ trilogy of movies, employing the same set of actors over a nearly 20-year period, isn’t just as worthy an accomplishment.

Linklater is an unusual filmic storyteller in a number of ways, not the least of which is his propensity to focus in upon intellectual concerns in his movies, as opposed to the emotional terrain traversed in more conventional films. The quote above is taken from the first of the movies comprising the Before trilogy. It tells the story of two young people who meet on a train approaching Vienna one evening, and then, in unplanned fashion, get off the train together in Vienna, and spend the entire night ‘walking and talking’ through the streets. Hardly the stuff of your typical American movie.

They debate questions like that quoted above: whether it is better to excel at some particular practice, be it creative or commercial or academic, than it is to be a good father, husband, wife or mother. I don’t want to be unfair to the script—a counter argument to the position quoted above is immediately offered by another character—but I think that the question is often misconstrued. For most of us, it’s not quite an either-or proposition.

Those who truly excel at a practice do so through some rare combination of talent, drive and luck. The talent quotient is ‘god given,’ if you will; the drive portion often does indeed come at the expense of personal relationships, and the luck component; well, there isn’t much any of us can do about ensuring that happens for us. Good luck typically amounts to being in the right place at the right time with the right ‘product.’

It’s a mug’s game for the 95% of us who are not the overachievers to compare ourselves to the 5% who are, even though this is precisely what celebrity culture would have us do on a daily basis. We’re better off looking to the wisdom of older, ordinary people, those who’ve lived, loved and worked in a more quotidian realm. These folks will have come through the bulk of their lives to a point where they’re feeling more or less content, having learned some important lessons along the way, and they will now likely be willing to share some of what they’ve learned. This is exactly what I attempted to do in a personal documentary I made few years back called What Happyns (available for free streaming here).

To measure yourself against the rich, famous or powerful is a surefire way to make yourself feel inadequate, if not miserable. No, better to understand that it’s a regular game you’re playing, alongside regular people. The rewards that come with great riches, fame and power are of course material, but they’re also largely ego-based. To achieve great success in a career is to feel privileged, exceptional. But beyond a certain point in your life you’ll come to realize that those sorts of rewards don’t mean so much.

We should all applaud the achievements of Richard Linklater, if only because his movies make us (me) think, rather than just feel. Tip your hat to the guy, say thanks, and then press on in your ordinary life. It’s all you’ll ever need.

Guns

The Gaiety Theatre became a church, then a parking lot. pinkmoose photo
The Gaiety Theatre became a church, then a parking lot.
pinkmoose photo

The game was derived directly from ‘the westerns’ we watched every Saturday afternoon at the Gaiety Theatre in downtown Grande Prairie, wherein the final act of every movie consisted of the good guy and bad guys (the baddies always outnumbered our hero) running around and shooting at one another. “Guns” we called it. “Let’s play guns!” we would shout, and soon we’d be lurking/sneaking around the immediate neighbourhood houses, blasting away at one another with toy weapons, inciting many an argument as to whether I had or had not “Got ya!” If indeed you were struck by an imaginary bullet, a dramatic tumble to the ground was required, followed by rapid expiration.

Let no one ever doubt the influential power of the ascendant mass medium of the day. As I’ve written elsewhere on this blog, I grew up without television, but those Saturday matinees were more than enough to have us pretending at the gun violence that is all too real in the adult world. Video games seem an even more powerful enactment of the gun fantasy that can grip children, but the difference may be marginal. I doubt that movies have lost much influence over young people today, and I further suspect that in the majority of Hollywood movies today at least one gun still appears. Check out how many of today’s movie ads or posters feature menacing men with guns, with those guns usually prominent in foreground. Sex sells, but so it seems do guns.

And of course the rest of the world, including those of us in Canada, looks with horror upon the pervasive, implacable gun culture in the U.S., wondering how it is that even the slaughter of twenty elementary school children isn’t enough to curb the ready availability of guns. Because, from a rational perspective, the facts are incontrovertible: more guns do not mean greater safety, quite the opposite. You are far more likely to die of a gunshot in the U.S. than you are in any other developed country. Roughly 90% of Americans own a gun. The next closest is Serbia at 58%. In Canada it’s about 30%. Australia 15%. Russia 9%. And a higher rate of mental illness does not mean greater gun violence. It’s pure and it’s simple: more guns mean more gun violence, more people being shot and killed.

But we are, by and large, not rational animals, and no amount of logical argument is going to convince members of the gun lobby that gun ownership should be restricted. It’s an emotional and psychological attachment that cannot be broken without causing increased resentment, anger, anxiety and a sense of humiliating diminution. Guns are fetishes to those who desire them, sacred objects that allow the owner to feel elevated in status, elevated to a position of greater independence and potency. After all a gun will allow you to induce fear in others.

And yes the American obsession with guns has historical roots, the revolution and the second amendment to the constitution and all that, but, as Michael Moore so brilliantly pointed out in this animated sequence in Bowling for Columbine, much more essentially it has to do with fear. People enamored of gun ownership feel threatened; without a gun they feel powerless in the face of threats from people they view as dangerously different from themselves. And nothing but nothing empowers like a gun.

You might think that people who love guns do not wish to play with them. Guns are not toys to these people, you might say; they are genuine tools used to protect their owners, mostly from all those other people out there who also own guns. But just down the road from where we live on Galiano is a shooting range. On quiet Sunday afternoons we invariably hear the sound of gunfire echoing through the trees, as gun aficionados shoot repeatedly at targets, trying to do exactly the same thing over and over again, hit the bull’s eye. Those people are indeed playing with their guns; they are recreating with their guns. Why? Because it makes them feel better.

Successful movie genres are manifestations of broadly felt inner conflicts; in the case of westerns those conflicts are around issues of freedom and oppression. And the western may still be the most successful of all movie genres, remaining dominant from the very birth of dramatic film (The Great Train Robbery, 1903), right through to the 1970s (McCabe and Mrs. Miller, 1971). The problem is that the western offered ‘gunplay’ as the answer to oppression, and therefore the suggestion that everyone should have a gun. But once everyone has a gun, everyone is afraid. And once you are afraid, no one is taking away your gun.

Requiem for a Cinema Pioneer

The great Quebec filmmaker Michel Brault died last month, and while he and his career were fully appreciated in his home province—Premier Pauline Marois attended his funeral on October 4, and the flag at the Quebec City Parliament building flew at half-mast for the occasion—we in English-speaking North America know too little of the profound contribution this film artist made to cinema.

Especially in the realm of documentary, Brault’s influence can hardly be overstated.  He was among the very first to take up the new lightweight film cameras that began appearing in the late 1950s, and when he co-shot and co-directed the short film Les Raquetteurs (The Snowshoers) for The National Film Board of Canada in 1958, documentary filmmaking was forever changed.  The 15-minute film focused on a convention of cheery showshoers in rural Quebec, employing a fluid, hand-held shooting style, synchronous sound, and no voice-over narration whatsoever.  The dominant documentary visual style in previous years had been the ponderous look made necessary by the bulk of 35 mm cameras, a style frequently accompanied by somber ‘voice of God’ narration.  Subject matter was often ‘exotic’ and distant; say Inuit people in the Canadian Arctic, or dark-skinned Natives in Papua New Guinea.  Reenactment was, almost of necessity, the preferred manner of recording events.

12675326_102622376eIn 1960, the French anthropologist-filmmakers Jean Rouch and Edgar Morin were shooting Chronique d’un Ete (Chronicle of A Summer) in Paris, turning their cameras for the first time upon their own ‘tribe.’  When they saw Les Raquetteurs, they immediately fired their cameraman and brought Brault in to complete the work.  Rouch went on to label Chronique “cinema verité” (literally ‘truth cinema’), and an entire new genre of documentary film began to appear everywhere in the West.

Robert Drew and his Associates (chief among them D.A. Pennebaker, Richard Leacock and Albert Maysles) took up the cause in the United States, labeling their work ‘direct cinema,’ and delivering films like Primary, about the 1960 Wisconsin primary election between Hubert Humphrey and the largely unknown John F, Kennedy, and Don’t Look Back, about a young folksinger named Bob Dylan on his 1965 tour of the United Kingdom.  Both films would have a marked impact upon the subsequent rise of these two pivotal political/cultural figures.

Brault himself was slightly less grandiose in describing the filmic techniques he pioneered, saying, “I don’t know what truth is.  We can’t think we’re creating truth with a camera.  But what we can do is reveal something to viewers that allows them to discover their own truth.”

He would later turn to fictional filmmaking, writing and directing, among other works, Les Ordres in 1974, a smoldering indictment of the abuse of power which transpired during the ‘October Crisis’ of 1970 in Quebec.  Les Ordres was scripted, but the script was based upon a series of interviews done with a number of people who were in fact arrested and imprisoned during the crisis.  As such, it was considered ‘docudrama,’ another area where Brault’s influence was seminal.  Brault won the Best Director Award at the Cannes Film Festival in 1975 for Les Ordres, and he remains the only Canadian to have ever done so.

These days, with video cameras in every smart phone and tablet, the idea that we should turn our cinematic attention to our own people is taken for granted, as every police department now teaches its members.  But in Brault’s early career, that we should observe, at close quarters, those immediately around us, and do so in an unobtrusive but sustained way, then make that prolonged cinematic observation available to the public, well, that was an almost revolutionary notion.  We could stay close to home, and let the camera reveal what it would.  The process may not have unavoidably presented ‘the truth,’ certainly not in any genuinely objective way, but observational documentary filmmaking granted us new understanding, new insight into people both with and without power.  And we were the better for it.

If the goal is to leave a lasting impression, to press a permanent handprint onto the wall of the cave where we live, Michel Brault can rest in peace.  He made his mark.

The End of the Movies

I grew up without television.  It never arrived in the small town where I lived until I was about ten.  So I grew up watching the movies, initially Saturday afternoon matinees, which my older brother begrudgingly escorted me to under firm orders from my mother, who was looking for brief respite from the burden of three disorderly boys.  Admission was ten cents, popcorn five cents.  (If these prices seem unbelievable to you, all I can say is… me too.)

file2791245784270Movies were it, a prime cultural (and for me eventually professional) mover, right through my adolescence and early adulthood.  For me, TV has tended to be a kind of entertainment sideline, something to be watched when a new show came around with some serious buzz, but more often just a passive filler of downtime, material to unwind with at the end of a busy day.

That has of course all changed in recent years, and not just for me.  I don’t go to the movies much anymore—that is I don’t go to the movie houses—and, what’s more, movies don’t seem to matter much anymore.  These days movies are mostly noisy spectacle, big, flashy events, but events with very little to offer other than raucous entertainment.  Comic book movies are the dominant genre of today, and, no matter how I slice it, those comic book characters don’t really connect with life as I’m living it, day to day.  And, as I say, it’s not just me, as someone from an older demographic.  Today, unfortunately, the audience for the movies is smaller, and more narrow than it’s ever been.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAMovie audiences peaked in 1946, the year The Best Years of Our Lives, The Big Sleep, and It’s A Wonderful Life were released, and 100 million tickets were sold every week.  By 1955—when Guys and Dolls, Rebel Without A Cause, and The Seven Year Itch were released—with the advent of television, that audience had dropped to less than half that.

But the movies survived television and found a ‘silver’ age (‘gold’ being the studio-dominated 40s) in the decade from 1965 to 1975, when we watched movies like The Godfather I and II, Midnight Cowboy and Chinatown, and the works of Ingmar Bergman, Federico Fellini and Francois Truffaut enjoyed theatrical release right across North America.  It was a time when movies did seem to have something to say; they spoke to me about the changing world I was in direct daily contact with.

Then came the blockbusters—Jaws and Star Wars—and the realization that Hollywood could spend hundreds, not tens of millions of dollars on a movie and garner just as large an increase in returns.  Movies have never been the same.

Today less than 40 million people in North America go to see a movie once a month.  In a 2012 poll done by Harris International, 61% of respondents said they rarely or never go to the movies.  Why would you when you have that wide screen at home, ad-free, with the pause button at your disposal?  The most you’ll likely pay to watch in private is half of what you would at the movie house.

And then, this year, we had a summer of blockbuster flops.  The worst was The Lone Ranger, made for $225 million and about to cost Walt Disney at least $100 million.  Both Steven Speilberg and George Lucas have said that the industry is set to “implode,” with the distribution side morphing into something closer to a Broadway model where fewer movies are released; they stay in theatres longer, but with much higher ticket prices.  Movies as spectacle.

(If you’re interested in reading more, an elegant, elegiac tribute to the run of the movies is The Big Screen, published last year and written by David Thomson, a critic born in 1941 who has thus been around for a good-sized chunk of film history.)

It may well be that movies, as the shared public experience that I’ve known, are coming to the end of a roughly 100-year run.  It was rapid, glamorous, often tawdry, sometimes brilliant, once in a while even significant, but technology is quickly trampling the movies.  If you were there for even a part it, you might feel blessed.

Documentary Demise

Documentary film may be the definitive post-digital-revolution media product: big audience; no market.  From all indications, documentaries are as popular as ever, perhaps more so, but making—that is financing—documentary films these days?  That’s another story.  In a recent report, titled Getting Real, the Documentary Organization of Canada reported that Documentary production volume decreased in Canada by more than 21% from 2008/09 to 2010/11.  The number of documentary projects dropped 23% in that time, from 591 to 457.  It’s not at all likely that the situation has improved any since.

IMG_8598 (2)The decline began with the great 2008 recession.  The television industry is one of the very first to feel any economic downturn, as even large companies can quickly cut advertising budgets in response to nose diving sales.  But, as the report indicates, by 2010, “Canadian conventional broadcasting revenues rebounded to pre-2008 levels, and specialty cable channel revenues continued to grow despite the recession.”  Essentially, Canadian broadcasters seized the opportunity presented by the 2008 crash to reduce or suspend the commissioning of documentaries, and they have chosen to maintain that diminution ever since, despite revived revenues.  Government regulators have meekly stood by over this dismal decay, too timid to promote cultural values in the face of stressful times within the free enterprise arena where combatants like Rogers, Bell and Shaw snarl and throw up their steroid-enhanced arms to the roar of the ratings crowd.

Prior to 2008, all three of the major Canadian networks, CTV, Global and the CBC, carried documentary ‘strands’ as part of their regular programming schedules, commissioning numerous one-off documentaries each season, usually as part of a loosely integrated series.  Audience numbers were not huge, but they were steady, and it meant that a vibrant community of documentary filmmakers existed across the country, and that Canadian audiences were regularly exposed to their work, along with the stories and issues contained therein.

Alternate means of funding have of course arisen post-revolution, chief among them crowdsourcing, but another recent report, this one by the Canadian Media Fund (CMF), called Crowdfunding in a Canadian Context, is illuminating in this regard.  Despite the lurid success stories of millions raised in just days (akin to those mega-rare video clips that go viral, when it’s hoped that every clip posted will), the report makes it clear that, “Crowdfunding is best suited to independent producers and developers who work on a smaller scale, with smaller budgets.”

Documentary filmmaking is far less expensive than is dramatic filmmaking, but when the making is by experienced professionals, budgets generally still need to run at least $250,000 for an hour-long show.  The larger Canadian production houses, those with full-time staff and facilities to pay for, are reluctant to consider a budget of less than $400,000 per hour.  (A top-drawer freelance documentary cameraperson will be looking for $800-$1000 per day, the best editors for $1800-$2000 per week.)  The CMF report states, “Crowdfunding appears to be best suited to smaller-scale funding with the majority of projects posting funding goals and reaching funding volumes of between $10,000 and $50,000.”

Adding to the problem is the decreased cost of production hardware.  Topline video cameras that just 10 years ago sold for $20,000 can now be replaced by DSLR cameras costing less than one-tenth of that amount.  Ditto with computer editing systems.  Post-production set-ups that once filled rooms with multiple monitors, tape decks and tower drives, are now supplanted by a laptop set upon… well, your lap.  These days just about anyone capable of picking up, pointing and pushing the record button on a camera, then operating a computer, can go about making a documentary.  It’s meant that there is a plethora of product out there now.  Most of it isn’t very good, but it’s out there, glutting the market.

The post-e-revolution landscape is an arid one for documentary filmmakers.  Their great tradition is fast becoming like too many other contemporary art practices, something that young, single people living in shared accommodations can afford to pursue, or that people with other jobs serving to pay the mortgage and feed the kids can create as a sideline.  Despite a ready audience, the documentary artform, as practiced by skilled professionals, is wasting away.

 

Suicide Watch: the CBC in Crisis

121px-CBC_logo_1940–1958The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) was effectively born a mixed-blood child back in 1929, taking over a series of radio stations first set up by the Canadian National Railway.  Early CBC radio broadcasts included American programming, and, even in my day, as a kid growing up the late 50s, early 60s, CBC was ‘affiliated’ with many privately owned radio stations across Canada, replete with ads.

The breakthrough came in 1974, when the radio network stopped running commercial advertising.  What followed was an unprecedented flowering of creativity and quality that saw CBC Radio become as good as any broadcast service that’s ever been offered, anywhere.  In the wake of that 1974 decision, CBC went on to undoubtedly become the most important cultural institution in the country.

I have to stress that these accolades belong rightly to CBC Radio, as opposed to CBC television, which began in 1958 with an impossible blend of commercial and public mandates, and has never been allowed to try flying without the debilitating weight of advertisers (and therefore the abiding incentive to seek higher ratings).

Last week the Canadian Radio and Television Commission (the CRTC) granted the CBC up to four minutes of advertising per hour on Radio 2, the music arm of the network, beginning what will surely be the death throes of CBC radio as we have known it.  This coup de grâce comes after decades of brutal cutbacks to the Corporation, all while overall federal spending climbed steadily.  The most recent will see a further 10% cut from CBC’s annual budget by 2014.

Thus you might lay the blame for its demise at the feet of CBC’s hostile patron in Ottawa, which has, over the years and despite it all, born the critical brunt of mostly exceptional CBC news services.  But this latest blow has of course come at the behest of CBC management, desperate to maintain its own viability.  It’s CBC staffers who have initiated their own suicide watch, in a mad attempt to stay alive by imitating the very private stations which threaten them.

CBC has one and only one viable future—as a distinct alternative to the private broadcasters.  What possible justification for its taxpayer outlay can the CBC find in providing what the private stations are already providing?  It should be but somehow isn’t dreadfully apparent to CBC executives that every inch closer to their commercial counterparts they step is an inch closer to their own oblivion.

It’s likely too late for CBC TV.  For a nation as small as Canada, in today’s media marketplace, it’s likely just too expensive to produce quality television with taxpayer dollars.  What’s more, CBC television was simply too cruelly compromised from the outset, never able to assume the robust communal role that might have won it unambiguous public approval.  CBC TV’s only hope for survival now is as a PBS-style broadcaster focusing upon news, public affairs and other serious, not schlocky (i.e. Battle of the Blades) factual programming.  That means no sports, and, like PBS, no original production of dramatic shows.  (In anticipation of all those who would cry ‘elitist’ in the face of the reduced audience that such a content shift would entail, let me say that I and many others like me would gladly, immediately contribute their own personal monies to such a service, were it to be commercial free.)

As to CBC radio, it certainly isn’t as good as it used to be when bigger budgets meant a more international focus.  But from AM’s The Sunday Edition, hosted by Michael Enright—who himself should be considered something of a national treasure—to Rich Terfry’s Radio 2 Drive, which, for my money, provides the best music programming anywhere on the dial, CBC Radio has, amazingly, been able to pretty much get it right.  This formerly brilliant and still great national lead character must not be allowed to hang itself.  Canadians everywhere should stand up and shout, as loudly as they possibly can, at both their MPs and at the frightened, misguided CBC managers, calling for the preservation of a genuinely public radio broadcaster, 100% government and listener-supported.

Otherwise we should just pull the plug right now, before it gets too painful to behold.