Last night, with the first snow of winter looming, Rache and Mom and I set around the fire and listened to old radio plays. I get a good hardwood fire roaring and crackling, and as the cast iron fireback in our hearth heats up and radiates warmth into our living room, we lose ourselves in a story.
There are few things more homey and pleasant than to drift along with a tale that relies on language, music, and sound effects...but no visuals. Those, you provide with your imagination. This scratches a primal itch, going deep back into the memories of ancient aeons, where warmth and flickering flame would pair with song and storytelling and form a place of uniquely human comfort.
We tried, at first, to listen to an old 1930s Mercury Theater of the Air production, with Orson Welles telling a Sherlock Holmes tale. But none of the versions I tried were of adequate quality, the voices muted and clouded by the pops and snaps of worn vinyl recordings. So instead, started with a good ol' trusty Johnny Dollar tale.
The Johnny Dollar episode was direct, as they always are, as our stalwart insurance investigator solves a murder in less than half an hour. The dame with the knockout figure and the dead husband did it, of course. The show was chock full of ads, as they always have been, being American storytelling in the consumer era.
Buy refreshing, stimulating Pepsi, we were told, as a song about how refreshing Pepsi would keep you full of vim and pep was sung. Then, following the description of a car crash in the Johnny Dollar episode, we were all reminded that driving was dangerous, and that we needed to be tip top and paying attention to drive safely. What better to do this than the safe and refreshing effect of No-Doz, doctor approved and safe for over the counter sales? Be refreshed! Be safe and alert, with No-Doz! Finally, after Johnny Dollar and the gorgeous killer widow shared a meal, we were reminded that there's nothing better to satisfy our hunger than nutritious, refreshing Fritos. Refreshing? Fritos? I'd never thought of Fritos as refreshing before. "Nutritious" seems a stretch, unless you're not getting your daily requirements of salt, fat, and carbs.
Then, on to a one hour radio-adapted version of the Wizard of Oz from Lux Radio Theater, starring none other than Judy Garland. Given the current hoo-hah around the Wicked films, this seemed apropos. To be honest, I enjoyed the radio version far more than Wicked. There was none of the strangely flat visual clutter of those films, because there weren't any visuals at all. Just practical audio effects, coupled with a tightly scripted and well performed retelling of the core tale. All of it live before an audience, or at least, it had been recorded live.
Garland was in her late twenties when this went on the air, and you can tell. Eleven years after making the iconic movie, her singing voice had more brass in it. Sixteen year old Judy sang "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" with a heartwarming sweetness. Twenty seven year old Judy...Judy of the quintuply wrecked marriages, Judy beginning the long slide into the addiction that would destroy her...was singing That Freaking Song for the ten thousandth time, and her trademark vibrato crackled with what felt like desperation. Why oh why can't I, she belted, and it was, if anything, even more affecting.
Underlying it all, there was marketing. Lux Radio Theater was supported by Lux Toilet Soap, of which we were reminded at the beginning, during each of the three ad breaks, and at the conclusion.
The ad breaks were "reviewers" pitching upcoming MGM films, coming soon to a theater near you. And then, there'd be a discussion of whatever female star or ingenue was starring in said film, from which we'd suddenly be hearing about how nine out of ten Hollywood stars kept their skin fresh and lustrous with the help of Lux soap. In the brief interview with Judy Garland at the end of the show, she talked about how both she and her four year old daughter Lisa were fans of Lux Toilet Soap Bars. At four, you'd think your skin is in pretty good shape anyway, but there was toilet soap to pitch.
It all felt suddenly very contemporary. Marketing is just as inescapable now, like Jeff Goldblum as the Wizard hawking Verizon products, or Wicked: For Good Cereal, brought to you by General Mills in Glinda Pink and Elphaba Green. There are hundreds of corporate tie-ins, including Cascade's Emerald City Scented Detergent, which is odd because 1) I don't remember Wicked being shown in scratch and sniff John Waters Smellovision, and 2) Do emeralds even smell? But so it goes, and has gone.
Seventy five years later, and I'm listening to our entertainment past, filled with corporate synergies. Industry supports entertainment, which supports more entertainment, which then comes right back around and pitches you more product.
But the human imagination is a perfect adblocker, and with great old songs and a crackling fire, it's amazing how easily we can tune out the song of corporate sirens.
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