Nostalgia isn’t a new thing, It has been coming around with rose-tinted regularity ever since the first civilisation went through its first rough patch and everyone started muttering about “the good old days”.
Inherent, of course, in the idea of the good old days is the recognition that the days we’re living in right now aren’t up to much by comparison. This is largely untrue. What really seems to happen is that we hanker for times when problems had a definite end: and of course all historical periods have a defined end, because they’ve happened already.
In other words: when we exchange our Top Hat the Musical tickets for a seat in the stalls or the circle, and the lights go down, we’re associating with a time we feel was better and simpler not because it was, but because all the problems we know about from that time have already been resolved.
In a sense, if you remove all history far enough it has a happy ever after. That’s why the bitter social struggles glossed over in Downton Abbey are now seen to be endearing relics of a simpler age: rather than the downright oppression they actually were. It’s also why we can watch The Hour without being annoyed by the simplification of women’s rights the programme presents. In our eyes (and quite rightly, because it is) it’s just darn fine drama with some nice sets and lots of men standing around in suits smoking indoors.
It’s interesting to posit a theory that the act of people smoking inside offices and public places is increasingly becoming our benchmark for nostalgia. As are hackneyed versions of civil liberties issues that have, ostensibly at least, been resolved. This is why everyone loved Life on Mars and Ashes to Ashes. They were both set far enough into the past that we could look with fondness on police brutality and rampant sexism.
Nostalgia is a funny thing. Top Hat the Musical tickets don’t represent the real 30s – but they don’t represent now either. And one thing’s for sure – no one will be feeling fuzzy about the riots for a few years yet.
Inherent, of course, in the idea of the good old days is the recognition that the days we’re living in right now aren’t up to much by comparison. This is largely untrue. What really seems to happen is that we hanker for times when problems had a definite end: and of course all historical periods have a defined end, because they’ve happened already.
In other words: when we exchange our Top Hat the Musical tickets for a seat in the stalls or the circle, and the lights go down, we’re associating with a time we feel was better and simpler not because it was, but because all the problems we know about from that time have already been resolved.
In a sense, if you remove all history far enough it has a happy ever after. That’s why the bitter social struggles glossed over in Downton Abbey are now seen to be endearing relics of a simpler age: rather than the downright oppression they actually were. It’s also why we can watch The Hour without being annoyed by the simplification of women’s rights the programme presents. In our eyes (and quite rightly, because it is) it’s just darn fine drama with some nice sets and lots of men standing around in suits smoking indoors.
It’s interesting to posit a theory that the act of people smoking inside offices and public places is increasingly becoming our benchmark for nostalgia. As are hackneyed versions of civil liberties issues that have, ostensibly at least, been resolved. This is why everyone loved Life on Mars and Ashes to Ashes. They were both set far enough into the past that we could look with fondness on police brutality and rampant sexism.
Nostalgia is a funny thing. Top Hat the Musical tickets don’t represent the real 30s – but they don’t represent now either. And one thing’s for sure – no one will be feeling fuzzy about the riots for a few years yet.