What is the relationship between myth and television? The answer, of course, depends on our definition of myth. Roland Barthes (1972: 127–31) defines “myth” as that which works to naturalize a particular history, and accuses television in parti- cular of disseminating myths that promote the interests of the dominant classes, pointing to the preponderance of television series where dark-skinned characters are the villains (see Fiske 2011: 135). Here, TV works in the same way asfilms and other popular culture, but through the sheer repetition of television it acquires more force. Religion and media theorist Quentin Schultze (1990: 24–26), writing in the 1980s, before the rise of darker, more prophetic television series, echoes this defini- tion, when he notes that“the tube has been formulating and reformulating at least three widely believed myths: Good will triumph over evil; evil exists only in the hearts of a few evil people; godliness exists in the good and effective actions of indi- viduals.” Taking a dim view of televised myths, he argues that because “television is probably the most popular storyteller of American society, its myths are very broadly conceived and rarely anchored in the particular religious beliefs or ethnic and racial experiences of specific social groups” (14).
Schultze’s words reflect the television landscape of the mid-1980s and no longer ring true. In recent years, television has become perhaps the foremost venue in
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popular culture for exploring religious specificity. For example, on The West Wing (NBC, 1999–2006), the Catholic president curses God in Latin (see Primiano 2009); on The Sopranos, a Hasidic Jewish motel owner enlists Tony’s help to “convince” his son-in-law to grant his daughter a get (Jewish divorce decree) (see Reinhartz 2009); and on Homeland (Showtime, 2011–present), a white convert to Islam carefully practices his ablutions and prostrations. This attention to the details of religious language, law, and ritual would have been unthinkable in the 1980s.
But leaving aside the fact that television in its“new golden age” is more aware of evil and of the particularity of religious traditions, is there a definition of myth dif- ferent from that implied by the work of Schultze and Barthes? Scholar of comparative religion William Paden (1994: 73) calls myth “a definitive voice that names the ulti- mate powers that create, maintain, and recreate one’s life … a voice that articulates the prototypical events, beings, and teachings that form the standards for all sub- sequent religious life.” With this definition in mind, we may ask again about the relationship between myth and mass media. Many scholars have explored the rela- tionship betweenfilm and myth (see Lyden 2003); like myth, film recreates the world in larger-than-life terms (see Plate 2008), and it often replicates the famous “hero” quest of Joseph Campbell’s (1949) “monomyth,” with its set pattern and characters in service to the quest. A two-hour running time seems like the perfect length for telling a tall mythic tale: departure, initiation, return; or fall and redemption; etc. But as I have argued elsewhere (Siegler 2011: 180), iffilm can be interpreted as a modern myth, television“does not recapitulate myth so much as complexify it.”
We must take seriously the word“mythology” in the way television fan commu- nities use it, as a reference to the overarching story arc of a series (and, if presented, its pre-series “back-story”); as a television series moves forward, it also moves back, exploring this “mythology.” It is in this way that Paden’s “ultimate powers” and “prototypical events, beings, and teachings” are gradually and tantalizingly revealed. The term was first used this way to apply to The X-Files (FOX, 1993–2002), whose episodes revolving around an alien invasion and related government cover-up were called “mythology” or “myth arc” episodes (to distinguish them from the “stand alone”or “monster of the week”episodes). Very slowly, over many years, viewers learned about abductions, secret government facilities, and conspiracies within con- spiracies—a back story that informed the “reality” within which the protagonists (FBI Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully) operated. By later seasons, when conspiracies included super soldiers and alien hybrids, viewers complained that the mythology had become cumbersome, contradictory, and difficult to understand.11
Influenced by The X-Files, later television series became more serialized and integrated “mythology” and “monster of the week” episodes. In Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer(WB, 1997–2001; UPN, 2001–3), every season had an overarching narrative arc and an ultimate villain, known as the “Big Bad.” Whedon slowly expanded his mythological world by adding classes of beings (slayers, watchers, demons, vampires); the world became known to fans as the “Buffyverse” or the “Whedonverse,” which was expanded in a Buffy spin-off, Angel (WB, 1999–2004). Whedon also created some shorter-lived series in the science-fiction genre that had an equally rich mythology: Doll House (FOX, 2009–10) and Firefly (FOX, 2002–3). The latter, set on a spaceship, featured a wandering Christian missionary—a monastic who could be seen reading
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the Bible, praying, and offering spiritual counsel. Like the series creator, the captain of the ship was an atheist. As three-time Whedon series writer and director Tim Minear noted, “out of such smashing and bashing and chaos, universes are born. Even ordered universes. Universes in which one mightfind coherent strains of phi- losophical thought. The hidden hand of the Creator. The Creator’s voice” (Kowalski and Kreider 2011: viii).
Created by J.J. Abrams, Lost (ABC, 2004–10) is a unique example of how a series’ mythology can move from the background to the foreground. Each episode of the series (which began with a plane crash on a tropical island) explores one or more of the many characters’ back stories, possible futures, and interconnections. As might be expected, a rich fan community developed around the series, focusing on theories and conspiracies and connections with real-world religions and philosophies (see Clark 2009). It is no surprise that television critic Emily Nussbaum has astutely named Joss Whedon, J.J. Abrams, and Chris Carter (The X-Files) “the great mythologizers” (Nussbaum 2007).
Not all mythological series are so well known or well loved. Carnivale (HBO, 2003–5) is an example of a series that sank under its own mythological weight. Set during the Great Depression, the series is what philosopher Eric Bronson called a “religious film noir”; one of the main characters is a priest (Justin Crowe) who has lost his God (see Sanders and Skoble 2008: 132–34). Crowe is an avatar of evil whose story runs parallel to that of Ben Hawkins, an avatar of good who is a circus hand with miraculous healing powers. The show’s creator revealed, in explicitly religious terms, his inspiration for the series:
The whole period of the ’30s, that period between the two World Wars is probably a great place to build a mythology … .The idea that up until we exploded the nuclear bomb, that magic was still existent, and magic died with the burst of the bomb, and God just basically tossed us the car keys and said, ‘You’re on your own. You created a sun. What do you need me for?’ So religion and magic being kind of intertwined …
(VanDerWerff 2013a)