Repetition is a natural human need. We crave routine and the perfection of a circle. We live our lives in a series of cycles and end up exactly where we began. There seems to me a certain idea behind repeating things. We are constantly trying to recapture the first time. We are trying to get back to that raw feeling of ecstasy, trying to get right back to the time it was brand new.
This line of thought came to me through a brush with America’s favourite medium, the television. I’ve never been a fan of TV unless it involves wildlife documentaries with David Attenborough.
But, as I have discovered, it is a staple part of the American student diet. What to do when there is nothing else to do? Turn on that TV. And, as I have come to realise, there is more than one way to watch this TV, each involving the act of repetition.
First, there is the phenomenon of reruns. Shows that have been broadcast previously, run again and again on what seems like an unending cycle, nothing about them changing except for the commercials in-between to offer us new stuff to replace the old stuff we bought when it was advertised the first time we watched this show five years ago.
And here we are, five years later surrounded by old and new stuff that we didn’t need in the first place, but all the while comforted by the fact that we can watch our favourite show again and again – that there is something constant and reliable in our lives – and be reminded of how much we enjoyed it the first time.
The second of these unacknowledged repetitions is the phenomenon of the remake. The remake comes in two forms. The first is straight forward. Someone decides that a classic show needs a make over and so they brush it up, haul in a new stage and a polished, shiny set of actors and do it all again. But this time it is bigger and better.
The second type of remake comes in the form of the adaptation. This can be from a book or even a film. Because we loved the film so much, we thought we would elongate the experience into an ongoing television series so we can enjoy it for six more seasons.
The third and final way of watching is simply the seemingly infinite number of episodes that television series produce for modern viewers, the long running serial. These are the kind of shows that are usually exported to the UK where they cause a media and social ruckus; “Desperate Housewives,” “Mad Men,” “Breaking Bad.”
They become talking points now, not just for weeks and months, but even for years. There we are, sitting in our arm chair, still waiting for the 50s advertising firm to go out of business or everyone to finally be killed off behind those white fences of suburbia. But we can rest assured at least that this will be a long process.
Repetition can be beautiful. It’s primitive and comforting. To me, the fifth cup of tea of the day tastes just as good as the first. But perhaps in some aspects of our lives, the comfort and substantiate it provides is dangerous, stopping movement and originality. Perhaps sometimes it’s good to swim down uncharted channels and see what there is to be found. If we only repeat, we will be left with a fragment of the memory of that feeling we first had, never to be felt again in a new and different way.
Lucy Cheseldine is an English International Student studying English literature. Her column runs weekly on Tuesdays.
