power of online fans
Al Forno
recently ponied up several thousand dollars to place an ad pressing for another
"The X-Files" movie, as if holding a vigil since its exit in 2002. Then again,
that's nothing compared with the ragtag band still pining for the original
"Battlestar Galactica" 26 years later.
***********
Daily Variety
April 14, 2004
by Brian Lowry
The power, and limits, of the 'Geeks' lobby
THIS MIGHT BE hard to imagine, but a bunch of guys who strongly identify with
the TV show "Freaks and Geeks" had enough spare time to vigorously lobby for
its DVD release.
At least in that respect, they're not alone. This is the time of year when
flowers bloom but TV series die, and the Internet has provided the most
committed viewers -- rebels with a peculiar cause -- unprecedented means to
protest, mobilize and share their passion with others. Indeed, a petition on
behalf of Fox's "Wonderfalls" began circulating before the network canceled it.
Despite symbolic victories, however, the louder and more shrill these voices
become, the less influence they often possess. And while networks
understandably enjoy knowing that people savor particular shows, these small
contingents are so unrepresentative of the larger population that their voices,
like the tiny denizens of Whoville, seldom get heard.
The Internet echo chamber has nevertheless emboldened the activists, whose
advocacy mashes the image of docile couch potatoes. Television's shifting
economics have also worked to their advantage, with fragmentation lowering the
ratings threshold and DVD sales increasing the viability of narrowly focused
entertainment, so long as enough fans are willing to pay.
Take Fox's animated "Family Guy," which between its DVD windfall and Cartoon
Network reruns has risen from beyond the grave. Ditto for "Farscape," allowed
an upcoming miniseries wrap-up after apoplectic fans laid siege to the Sci Fi
Channel, whose market niche requires enduring the occasional deluge of weird
emails.
ANOTHER TYPE OF NIGHT CREATURE hooked on "Angel" rallied outside the WB network
recently to plead for a stay of execution on the vampire drama. Although the
crowd was said to be pretty evenly split by gender, my guess is that had the
weblet dispatched a couple of attractive female publicists to the event, most
of the men would have fled in terror.
Nor does this sort of ardor fade quickly, as evidenced by loyalists who
recently ponied up several thousand dollars to place an ad pressing for another
"The X-Files" movie, as if holding a vigil since its exit in 2002. Then again,
that's nothing compared with the ragtag band still pining for the original
"Battlestar Galactica" 26 years later.
In general only a specific kind of show inspires such devotion -- usually
something with characters that don't exist in nature, unless those rumors about
Area 51 are true.
Yet my own fascination with such campaigns was spurred by a brilliant family
drama, "My So-Called Life," whose 19 episodes began repeating this month on
cable net Noggin's teen-oriented the N. When that show met its untimely end a
decade ago -- before "video on demand" was much more than a dirty thought -- I
wondered how many of the millions faithfully watching on ABC would pay a mere
$1 weekly to see it continue.
Today, that question sounds almost quaint given the equation "The Sopranos" and
"Six Feet Under" addicts weigh each time their cable bill arrives.
THE FLORID PROSE thrown around by "Save our show" groups frequently makes them
appear more than a little silly, and it's hard not to wish some of those lost
in cyberspace would invest their ingenuity in a more productive cause. This
zeal offers a reminder that the Internet owes a great debt to "Star Trek" and
porn -- diversions that still provide much of its creative vigor.
What seems equally clear, though, is that when possible TV shouldn't be in the
business of disappointing its best customers. As a case in point consider CBS'
"Now and Again," which culminated four years ago with a cliffhanger that left
its intrepid hero in peril -- for all eternity, it turned out, much to the
understandable chagrin of the fan base.
Granted, few programs possess the underpinnings to mount a resurrection along
the lines of the anomalous "Family Guy," and there are enough loons with
laptops to give anybody pause about engaging them. That said, these campaigns
underscore that freaks and geeks' money is surely as green as everybody else's,
and if fed properly, they're more than happy to part with plenty of it.