[This week marks the anniversaries of the premieres of two classic TV shows: the 50th anniversary of Little House on the Prairie and the 70th of Lassie. So I’ll AmericanStudy those and other classic TV shows and contexts, leading up to a special post on what we can learn from a couple current hits I finally got around to checking out this summer!]
On a key
difference between the TV show and the books, and why it matters.
I watched a good
bit of the TV adaptation of Little House on the Prairie (1974-1982, but I mostly watched it in
subsequent reruns on TBS) growing up, but only one episode stands out in my
memory: “Gambini
the Great,” an episode early in the show’s 8th season (the
penultimate season, and the final one featuring Michael Landon before the show
changed its title to Little House: A New
Beginning for the 9th and final season) in which the Wilder
family’s adopted son Albert (Matthew Laborteaux) becomes enamored of the
titular aging circus escape artist/daredevil. Albert’s father Charles Wilder
(Landon) tries in vain to convince Albert that the openly and proudly
non-religious Gambini (Jack Kruschen) is not someone to idolize or emulate, and
is proven tragically yet righteously accurate when Gambini dies in a stunt gone
wrong. As I remember it, the show and Charles (pretty much always the show’s
voice of unquestioned authority) present this tragedy as, if not explicitly deserved
due to Gambini’s lack of religious faith, at the very least a clear moral and
spiritual lesson for Albert, and one that he takes to heart as he returns fully
to the fold of the family’s religious beliefs.
Albert was a
character not present in Laura
Ingalls Wilder’s series of books (in which Little
House on the Prairie was the third of eight published novels, with a
ninth published posthumously), and thus represents one of many elements that
were added, tweaked, or significantly
changed in adapting the books into the show. But I would go further, and
argue that the overt and pedantic religious themes and lessons exemplified by
an episode like “Gambini the Great” were also far more central to the TV
adaptation than the novels. That’s not to suggest that religion and
spirituality weren’t elements of the novels and their portrayal of the Wilder
family and its world, but I believe they were just that: elements, details of
the family’s identity and community and experiences that could be paralleled by
many other such elements and themes. Perhaps it’s the nature of episodic
television (particular in its pre-serialized era) to need more of a moral, a
sense of what an audience can and should take away from the hour-long, at least
somewhat self-contained story they have just watched. Likely the show’s
producers also learned quickly just how compelling and charismatic a voice they
had in Michael Landon’s, and wanted to use him to convey such overt morals and
messages. But in any case, I believe (and as always, correct me if you
disagree!) that the show tended toward such overtly pedantic (and often,
although certainly not exclusively, religious) moral lessons far more than did
the novels.
Although the
word “pedantic” does tend to have negative connotations, I mean it more
literally, in terms of trying to teach the audience a particular lesson; that
is, I’m not trying to argue through using that word that the novels were
necessarily better or more successful as works of art than the show because of
this difference. At the same time, however, I do believe that the difference
produces a significant effect, one not so much aesthetic as thematic, related
in particular to how each text portrays history. To me, the novels seek to
chronicle the pioneer/frontier experience for their focal family and community,
describing a wide range of issues and concerns that were specific to that
communal experience (if, of course, very different from the concurrent
experiences of other Western communities, such as Native Americans, with whom
Wilder engages
to a degree but certainly far less, and at
times more problematically, than would be ideal for a more accurate
portrait of the American West). Whereas the TV show consistently seeks to make
use of its historical setting to convey broader and more universal messages
(about religion and morality, but also about family, relationships, communal
obligations, and more). Which is to say, I would argue that, to use the
terms I deployed in this post, while Wilder’s novels certainly qualify as
historical fiction (as well as autobiographical fiction), the show seems more
to be period fiction, with somewhat less to teach its young audiences about the
history itself.
Next TV
Studying tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What
do you think? Other classic TV you’d analyze?
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