[This week marks the 60th anniversary of the debut of the Batman TV show & the 50th of The Bionic Woman. So I’ll AmericanStudy those shows & three others from the 60s & 70s, all of which happen to start with the letter ‘B’! I’d love your responses and other TVStudying thoughts for a crowd-sourced weekend post that needs no “Applause” sign.]
On how Salem both inspired and was inspired by the 60s sitcom, and
why that’s profoundly problematic.
According to Walter
Metz’s 2007 history of Bewitched, the show’s creator Sol Saks was
inspired by two films featuring witchy romance in a contemporary setting. The
more famous, Bell,
Book, and Candle (1958, but an adaptation of John Van
Druten’s 1950 Broadway play of the same name), features Kim Novak as a
modern witch who uses a love spell on Jimmy Stewart. But to my mind the more
telling is I Married a
Witch (1942, an adaptation of James Thorne Smith’s posthumously published
1941 novel
The Passionate Witch), in which Veronica Lake’s modern witch seeks
revenge on Fredric March’s descendent of Salem Witch Trials accusers but ends
up falling in love with him instead. When we take these two cinematic predecessors
together, we can see the origins of a show largely focused on sitcom problems (marriage
and parenting, home and work conflicts, neighbors, and so on) but with an
interesting layer of a multigenerational magical family (main character Samantha Stephens’s mother
and later her and her husband Dick’s daughter, both fellow witches, in
particular).
If Salem played a small role in the show’s origins, Bewitched
would eventually play
a very significant role in Salem’s evolving late 20th-century histories.
As that hyperlinked Smithsonian magazine article (itself based on Witch
Trials historian Stacey Schiff’s New
York Times piece) notes, it was when
the show filmed special
episodes in Salem in 1970—including one episode where Samantha travels back
in time and becomes one of the accused in the Witch Trials—that the city first
began to lean into the possibilities of using these controversial and painful
histories as a vehicle
for tourism. That possibility gradually became not just a reality but the
city’s defining one in the 21st century, to the point where most of
its public signage, marketing, and even institutions like
the police call it “The Witch City” and—most
strikingly when it comes to the influence of Bewitched on this process—since
2005 one of its central public parks features a life-size
statue of actress Elizabeth Montgomery in character as Samantha.
I’ve already written a good bit in this space about why that “Witch
City” emphasis is at
best seriously complicated and at worst deeply
frustrating, and I don’t want to rehash all those arguments here. Instead,
I’ll just note that it’s particularly fraught to connect this particular sitcom,
with its central emphasis on the wacky hijinks that befall a witch and a
non-witch who are also a married couple, to the histories of Salem and the
Witch Trials. After all, one of the most famous pairs of Witch Trial victims
were Martha
and Giles Corey, a woman who was executed after her husband testified
against her at her witchcraft trial—and after which he subsequently was accused
and executed (in the admittedly badass moment with which I began that hyperlinked
post) as well. I don’t have any problem with Bewitched’s premise on its
own terms, and as those prior pieces indicate I have long since made my peace
with the contradictions of Salem. But this seems to me to be a case where life
and art should stay quite fully distinct from one another.
Last TVStudying tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you think? Other 60s and/or 70s TV you’d highlight?
No comments:
Post a Comment