I recently started watching Glee, the ever-so-controversial yet also incredibly culture-shock-ing television show that ran from 2009 to 2015 (6 seasons). I'm not the Glee-maestro yet, but I have watched four seasons in two weeks (and no I will not be explaining my life decisions), so while I don't feel fully qualified for this in-depth review, I'll try my best.
Glee suffers from a two main problems: 1. it seems to have aged like expired milk, and 2. the cast seems to be cursed by Santana's psychic Mexican third eye.
The first problem is obvious: we start the show with a bang, when Mr. Schuester's wife fakes a pregnancy to stop him from living vicariously through his teenage students singing Journey songs in the auditorium of a high school named after arguably the most forgettable president in all of United States history -- William McKinley. By season five, there have been not one, not two, but three distinct storylines about teacher-student relationships (and, frankly, the entire ensemble cast of teachers is consistently lauded for their creepy, boundary-less behaviour). There is a slew of normalized homophobia, transphobia, racism, and misogyny, and it becomes increasingly difficult to believe Mr. Schue's feel-good mantras about inclusivity and diversity when he actively ignores the problems of his students by suggesting that they're "all minorities" because they're "all in Glee".
HowEVER, I happen to believe that problematic behaviour happening in media does not inherently make the medium itself problematic. I would even go so far as to suggest that problematic behaviour going unchallenged does not inherently make the show itself problematic. Glee was meant to be over-the-top and dramatic; it's half-sattirical, shockingly self aware (at times), and usually highlighted inappropriate behaviour with the intention of correcting it a few episodes later. The writers addressed a myriad of serious topics -- from gay/lesbian high school relationships, suicidal thoughts, and mental health awareness, to teenage pregnancy, drug addictions, rape, and fatphobia -- so yes, sometimes it fell flat, and sometimes it was tone deaf. But sometimes it wasn't. And while we should be quick to reject false, damaging narratives, we should also be just as willing to see how many molds Glee did break, and how many stereotypes the writers took care not to perpetuate.
The joke goes that if you don't hate every character in Glee at least once, you didn't watch the show correctly. And as frustrating as that is for fans, who love latching on to characters and supporting them blindly, I can appreciate the authenticity. Because, after all, these are children -- they'll react poorly, push each other too far, fail to find the words, break out into song, and hopefully, find their way back to who they want to be. Everyone does "unforgiveable" things over the course of the six seasons, but somehow it's all eventually forgiven. I won't argue with the fandom about whether or not the writers make these characters too flawed, but I do believe that whenever we're supposed to hate anyone, it's because we're supposed to.
Which brings us to critique number two: the cast. In recent years, the cast has been outed for pedophilia, unprofessionalism, domestic violence and abuse, and more headlines I can't even begin to summarize here. It's not my job to decide which of these allegations are true; I don't know any of the cast members personally. But I think it raises an important question: should we support art created by bad artists?
Personally, I've struggled with this my whole life. I don't agree with almost anything JK Rowling has said in recent years (nor do I condone any form of transphobia), but that doesn't change the fact that the Harry Potter novels were some of the first I truly fell in love with. The Disney Channel Original Movie Geek Charming was a cult-classic until the male lead was exposed for his abusive behaviour on set. Now, I can't watch that film without wondering what was happening behind the camera. It's easy to sit back and say "but hey, I'm supporting the art, not the artist", but when Rowling gets paid large royalties for every Harry Potter-related memorabilia sold, are they really that easy to separate? Can we put our money behind fantastical worlds and not the very real people that created them?
This year, star player Djokavic was banned from playing in two major tennis Grand Slams due to his unvaccinated status. Somewhere along this journey, he became the figurehead of the antivax movement, being greeted by fellow-antivaxxer fans with posterboards in airports. I was unable to take a side in this (very heated) debate: with two front-line worker parents, I physically couldn't imagine not getting vaccinated amidst a global pandemic. It felt selfish, ignorant, and just plain stupid. But, there are millions of people who don't get vaccinated; Djokavic wasn't contributing to the damage antivaxxers do any more than Joe Doe who works at Chipotle. Yet, he was paying a much heavier price -- being robbed of two grand slam titles in the height of his career. Was it his responsibility, as a famous, celebrity figure, to become the martyr for a movement? He was an athlete, after all. His vaccination status is entirely relevant to what he's famous for -- playing tennis. I couldn't decide then, or now.
Part of what social media has given us is contact. There's this theory that we're seven people away from everyone in the world: that we know somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody who knows the Queen, or Mark Cuban, or Taylor Swift. With a window into the lives of our idols and celebrities, we seem to think we know them on a personal level. When Lea Michele was "cancelled" for her rude, diva-ish behaviour on set, Glee fans jumped on the hate bandwagon, and the very people who gave her her stardom began calling her the world's worst person. And don't get me wrong: there is a very good chance Lea Michele is a diva. But how do we know? How have millions of people made this judgement without even knowing her? Who determines which narratives we listen to? After all, we decided Lea Michele was an awful person after reading a tweet by another celebrity. Who's to say they're not lying, or that the whole thing isn't a publicity stunt in the first place? I'm not defending Lea Michele; I'm just refusing to hate her because somebody told me to.
Until we decide on answers for these (very difficult) questions, I'll list a universal truth: for a girl whose life has zero drama, a show where Mayan apocalypses happen every few weeks, leaving seventeen year old cheerleaders to fake-marry guys they barely know and adopt fat cats who believe in Scientology all to the backdrop of 2010 Demi Lovato pop music is my shameless happy place.
And I listen to Lea Michele's rendition of Don't Rain on My Parade at least twice daily. Doctor's orders.
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