As a cisgender individual, I find myself deeply moved and profoundly affected by the film “I Saw the TV Glow.” It has stirred within me emotions that are difficult to put into words, but I believe it’s essential to try.
This article was first released on June 4, 2024, and we’re sharing it again as I Saw the TV Glow is now available for streaming on Max.
For most of my life, I thought I was a character in a TV show.
I understood that I existed in this world and my actions mattered to those close to me. Yet, I also had a fantasy where I was the star of a television show, with every person I knew as characters in it. This role gave an unearned significance to my mundane life. It allowed me to avoid taking responsibility for my life’s direction and making difficult choices, fearing any changes might disrupt the narrative of my “show.” The events happening to me were beyond my control, influenced by the ratings of alternate universes, audience preferences, and the writers.
Initially, I harbored a strong embarrassment about this particular belief. Over time, as I matured into adulthood, I expected the urge to fade away. Contrarily, it intensified, nurtured by a harmful cocktail of depersonalization (a feeling that my physical self was not truly mine) and derealization (a perception that the world around me lacked solidity). Upon acknowledging myself as a trans woman in my 30s, I realized that this source of shame stemmed from an exaggerated defense mechanism. In truth, I had been living a life devoid of authenticity, controlled by external influences such as family, friends, and societal expectations. When I stopped conforming to that false existence, I became genuine. My perception of reality and actual reality eventually converged.
When conversing with fellow trans individuals, particularly those who didn’t reveal their identities until maturity, I’ve noticed a common thread: many of us harbored an ambiguous belief that we weren’t genuine, that we were fictional characters in a book, a game, or a virtual reality. For trans individuals yet to accept themselves – often referred to as ‘eggs’ – it involves constant reconciliation with the idea that your existence isn’t real, only to have society validate this perceived unrealness by demanding you live in a semi-shadow form of yourself.
Reflecting on my experience, I can’t help but ponder what my life would be like if I hadn’t managed to break free from that gloomy state. Would I still be going through each day, putting up a brave face and pretending everything was alright? Would I continue to offer apologies to those who might have suspected the truth lurking beneath my surface?
As a keen appreciator, I’d like to highlight that “I Saw the TV Glow” stands out among a small number of films directed by a trans filmmaker, excluding the Wachowskis, that have garnered widespread distribution. Remarkably, both cis and trans critics have heaped praise upon this masterpiece, largely due to writer-director Schoenbrun’s exceptional talent in weaving the deeply personal trans experience of derealization into a more universally relatable narrative about becoming utterly engrossed in one’s beloved television shows.
Instead of saying “I never want to claim anyone has ‘misunderstood’ a movie,” you could rephrase it as “I dislike the idea that people might misunderstand a movie.” When a film is released, it becomes a shared experience for its audience, and each viewer will interpret it based on their unique perspectives. However, as I read reviews from cis critics on TV Glow, even the most favorable ones, I find myself increasingly irritated by what appears to be a reluctance to delve into the film beyond its implications for media consumption or fan culture, which is essentially a reluctance to explore the film as a deeply trans narrative.
That divide perhaps explains why many cis critics, professional and amateur, have taken issue with TV Glow’s third act, wondering if it either bit off more than it could chew, disappeared up its own navel, or (in the words of Slate’s Culture Gabfest podcast) “embraced nihilism.” It is here where the need to engage with the film’s transness becomes most apparent and where the reluctance to do so becomes most glaring. To explain why, let’s quickly step through the plot.
In “I Saw the TV Glow,” we follow the lives of Owen and Maddy, two teenagers who bond over the 90’s supernatural drama, “The Pink Opaque,” reminiscent of a mix between Buffy and SNICK. As their shared passion for the show grows, they even contemplate escaping together. However, Owen suddenly disappears, leading people to believe he abandoned Maddy due to his fear of his abusive father. The father’s threatening presence is felt throughout the film, with only one line spoken – a dismissive comment about “The Pink Opaque” being for girls. The rest of the time, he looms ominously in the background.
The show titled “The Pink Opaque” has been terminated abruptly, leaving fans reeling from the heartrending cliffhanger. In this final scene, our teenage protagonists Tara and Isabel are entombed alive and stranded in the ominous “midnight realm,” thanks to the main antagonist, Mr. Melancholy. Maddy, having reached her breaking point, makes a desperate escape, while Owen strives to pick up the pieces of his life, taking on a mundane job at a movie theater and continuing to reside with his father, consistently apologizing for late nights well into maturity.
Eight years later, Maddy unexpectedly resurfaces, bombarding Owen with inquiries about his recollections of watching “The Pink Opaque”. All of a sudden, he’s hit by either a forgotten memory or a subconscious fantasy of watching the show alongside Maddy, both dressed as the character Isabel. Maddy makes her intentions clear: “The Pink Opaque” is genuine. She is Tara. Owen embodies Isabel. Their surroundings represent the midnight realm, which they must depart from. However, their only means of escape is to bury themselves alive, a feat Maddy has already accomplished once and claims she can do so again.
“There is still a chance.
Moving forward into Act Three, it’s been twenty years since we last saw Owen. He’s amassed the trappings of a content life – a career, home, large screen TV, and even a family, though we never catch a glimpse of them. Yet, he senses something is amiss. In the film’s climax, at a child’s birthday party in the fun center where he works, Owen suddenly shouts, “I’m dying! Help me!” His distress continues in the bathroom where he discovers his body filled with static from a TV screen. Instead of addressing this strange occurrence, he apologizes profusely to anyone he may have upset. The credits then roll.
While I wouldn’t call it inaccurate to view Maddy’s second disappearance as the result of her death or a severe mental health issue, such an interpretation seems incomplete to me. Instead, the “Pink Opaque”-themed arcade games at the fun center could be seen as a playful nod to our culture’s heavy saturation with nostalgia. Owen might simply be a man coming to terms with the significant portion of his life he’s invested in a TV show, every asthma attack a reminder of this fact.
It seems that what Maddy says is factual, without any room for doubt. However, we’re not watching a movie titled “I Saw the TV Glow“. Instead, we are tuning into the season-six premiere of “The Pink Opaque“. Even within this episode, there’s a musical interlude featuring a double bill at the Double Lunch.
What if this isn’t a movie about loving a TV show? What if it’s a movie about being an egg?
In our discussion, the scene I witnessed on TV resonates with a collection of movies I’ve informally labeled as “egg movies.” These films inadvertently portray the sensation of being an egg. On the surface, they ponder questions about gender identity, but only to a certain extent. They often depict a gateway between different realms and are frequently described as incredibly imaginative. (Some notable instances include Being John Malkovich, Midsommar, Poor Things, and, indeed, The Matrix.)
In a movie like “Egg,” the symbolism for gender must feel authentic or tangible to the audience. For example, the world of “The Matrix” within “The Matrix” is a real part of the storyline. Similarly, when discussing “I Saw the TV Glow,” Schoenbrun often references Richard Kelly’s “Donnie Darko” and David Lynch’s “Twin Peaks: The Return.” It’s significant that in both these productions, the strange occurrences are not just imagined; they actually take place. Denying this would be quite contorted.
What makes TV Glow unique is its challenge to the fundamental premise of “egg cinema”: one must pass through the portal. However, instead of rejoining her old life as Isabel, she gradually suffocates while navigating a progressively tormenting existence in the twilight realm. She’s trapped within this world. There is still time left – but not an unlimited amount. She hurtles towards death and further away from the portal.
In an initial sequence, Tara – or as Maddy prefers, Tara – characterizes Isabel as the main character in “The Pink Opaque“, yet with a touch of ambiguity, and refers to her as somewhat dull. These descriptions can be seen as fitting for the Isabel portrayed in the movie. What sets our Isabel apart is that she never performs the fundamental action all protagonists take – making a decision. Instead, she remains perpetually on the brink of choice, hoping circumstance would propel her over the edge and make the decision for her. The high school she attends is even named “Void High School” (or cleverly abbreviated as VHS), reflecting Isabel’s state of indecision.
Watching this movie on TV adds a layer to its conclusion, transforming it from a grim and despairing finish into merely a tantalizing cliffhanger. After all, the narrative revolves around Tara and Isabel miraculously reconnecting, defying all odds, with Tara’s valiant yet unsuccessful attempt to rescue Isabel. However, on TV, a new chapter is always about to unfold. For trans individuals, this ending can be both your darkest fear (a life beyond your control) and an immense, radiant hope (since there remains, amidst the struggle, a glimmer of possibility). It’s no wonder that one of the most impactful reviews of this film on Letterboxd is a coming-out post.
It’s worth noting that many non-transgender individuals can understand the movie’s message about the consequences of not taking control of one’s life. Furthermore, it’s important to clarify that a person does not have to be transgender to dislike their body, feel detached from reality, or yearn for an escape to another realm. Inside the film itself, all events can be interpreted as Owen’s struggle to deal with his father’s abuse.
Apart from that third act, acknowledging you might be transgender but choosing not to act on it could lead to creating progressively larger constraints for yourself. Initially, these limitations may only affect you and your family. However, as an adult with a successful career, those boundaries expand significantly, making the idea of challenging them increasingly untenable. Consequently, you begin to perceive yourself less as an individual and more as what others expect from you. You strive to avoid causing disturbances, and in a sense, you implicitly apologize for simply existing. You cease to be authentic and become more of a fabrication, eventually accepting this artificial persona as your true self. You encase yourself within it, and over time, you may find yourself trapped. There is still an opportunity to change before there isn’t.
In the portrayal of “TV Glow”, the unconventional, unsatisfying conclusion contradicts the common narrative in films and television where a transgender character accepts themselves, transitions, and leads a more fulfilling life. Instead, Owen finds himself in a situation where he understands what actions are necessary for him to live authentically, but chooses not to take those steps because, quite frankly, being entombed alive is an incredibly frightening prospect. The traditional transition narrative suggests that transgender lives can be simplified as a switch from “man” to “woman”, however, reducing our experiences to such a binary perspective ignores the inherent liminal nature of trans existences.
Human lives progress through an ongoing process of development until the end, yet trans individuals have a distinctive understanding of this concept due to the essence of their identities. It’s possible for one to become entangled in that threshold, perpetually confined within a twilight zone self-constructed, stranded between what one thinks is genuine (I am a kind man with a loving family and a fulfilling job, and I cherish my life) and the truth that resonates deeply in the most fearful corner of one’s heart (I am a woman struggling to breathe within these confines).
If you choose to view “I Saw the TV Glow” as exploring the perilous charm of nostalgia, that’s definitely a valid perspective! Interestingly enough, the movie seems to endorse this interpretation as well. However, in subtly guiding your reading, the film sets up a trap that will resonate deeply with trans viewers and cis viewers alike. At some point during Maddy’s narrative about “The Pink Opaque,” you’ll be faced with a decision between dismissing her as delusional (“This kid has lost it!”) or supporting her, Owen-style (“No, go with her, Owen”). In presenting this choice, the movie is effectively reenacting the act of self-acceptance in the context of trans identity.
See, the grimmer read of the film’s ending truly is a nihilistic one. It leaves no hope, no potential for growth, no exit. Yet you must actively choose to read that ending as nihilistic. If you are cis and the end of I Saw the TV Glow left you with a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, a weird but hard-to-pin-down feeling that something had broken, and a melancholy bordering on horror — congratulations, this movie gave you contact-high gender dysphoria.
In an infinite multiverse, there exists at least one where I continue to exist as a man, acknowledging my fictional nature, preferring not to explore the increased rawness and reality I sense when imagining myself as a woman. From time to time, I ponder about that person’s well-being. I wish him well.
Ponder this, my fellow cisgender reader: “TV Glow” is meant for us both, but it might be particularly meaningful for him. I fervently wish he’ll get to experience it. I hope it moves him deeply, making him weep in the restroom afterwards. I hope, after years of self-imprisonment, he finds a glimmer of new life hidden within the static noise of the television.
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2024-09-20 20:54