1980
Serial
is a light-hearted
look at all of the
crazy "consciousness
expansion" fads of
the late 70s. That
era was the first
time in which
psychiatric care
became not only
therapeutic, but
fashionable as well.
Those who bragged
about their therapy
seemed perfectly
sensible compared to
those who trod the
more outre paths to
enlightenment: Asian
mysticism, cult
religions, self-help
books, primal
therapy, communes,
EST ... you name it.
It was a time when
the leftover 60s
hippies were trying
to find a way to
assimilate into
mainstream society
without renouncing
the counter-cultural
spiritual values
they had come to
treasure. When they
entered the
consumerist world
they found
themselves
side-by-side with
people with very
different value
systems, some of
whom had
hypocritically
co-opted the symbols
and slogans of 60s
idealism to suit
their own personal
aims, others of whom
were old-fashioned
folks simply having
a good laugh at what
they perceived to be
a rash of New Age
bullshit. The film
portrays that uneasy
amalgam of disparate
value systems as it
was reflected in a
group of
suburbanites in
Marin County.
I went to see this
film when it came
out in 1980. My
first wife and I
were still together
and we were on
vacation in Toronto,
where we watched
this flick in an
exotic urban
multiplex consisting
of a couple of large
rooms for the
blockbusters as well
as several tiny
theaters connected
by various winding
and intersecting
corridors and
staircases - an
anfractuous maze
which one had to
navigate by
following
handwritten signs
containing
hastily-scribbled
arrows. Katie and I
had been inside a
few multiplexes, but
never one in a city
center ("centre,"
actually!), and we
found the experience
totally enchanting,
a perfect display of
everything we loved
about Canada: a
certain understated
elegance partially
undermined by
quaint, low-tech
eccentricity. You
may think, "Why go
to a movie when
you're on vacation?"
We had read quite a
bit about this film
and liked many of
the cast members,
especially Martin
Mull, so we were
really looking
forward to it, and
were quite pleased
that it was playing
within walking
distance of our
hotel and our main
entertainment for
the evening, which
consisted of a
Second City show at
The Old Firehall and
an excellent late
dinner at Three
Small Rooms. And,
let's be honest.
After years of
watching Dobie
Gillis as a kid, I
couldn't wait to see
Tuesday Weld nekkid.
I guess I remember
all of these details
because it may have
been our last really
good night together.
Oops. I'm rambling.
I guess I was
leading up to the
point that we were
disappointed in
Serial, despite our
good mood in general
and our
predisposition to
enjoy this film in
particular. And yet
now, watching it
today, I really
enjoyed the film. Is
that because it
brought back those
pleasant memories
which I just shared
with you? Well,
maybe, but I think
there's a better
explanation, or at
least an additional
one.
Serial is a film
which derives its
humor from a slight
exaggeration of the
characters and fads
of the post-60s
hippie diaspora. The
word "slight" is, I
believe, the key to
why the film seems
better to me now.
Because it was only
slightly
exaggerated, Serial
seemed in 1980 to be
too close to reality
to be effective
satire, but too
silly and too fond
of its characters to
be effective social
criticism. I felt at
the time that the
film gave only a
gentle loving
ribbing to many
things that deserved
a contemptuous
sneer. As time goes
by, however, I tend
to forget all the
subtleties and
nuances of the past
and just remember
the big picture.
Memory tends to
encapsulate an era
by using mnemonic
devices - handy
symbols that make
one particular time
stand out from every
other time in the
past. When the
memories fade, the
extreme emotions "in
the moment" always
seem to be tempered
when they fall from
the present to the
past. Looking back
on Serial now, I
seem to share its
point of view about
that era: that it
was all kinda silly,
but many of the
worst parts of it
can be remembered
not with contempt,
but with a fond
nostalgic smile, the
kind of sheepish
grin that says, "I
can't believe we
used to be that
way."
Oh, I still found
the film's jokes
tepid and obvious,
yet this time it
gave me a great deal
of pleasure.
Unfortunately, I
can't say the same
about
Tuesday
Weld's topless
scene, which
is still as
disappointing as
ever.
On the other hand,
Sally Kellerman's
scene in both sexy
and funny.
Sally made a great
career out of one
character - the
pretentious ass
who's also kinda
hot. She pretty much
spent her life
playing Hot Lips
Houlihan.
There's also
an
orgy scene.
The only actress
identified is Patch
MacKenzie, Martin
Mull's date for the
evening, whose
breast(s) can be
glimpsed very
briefly in the
mirror.