My Love/Hate Relationship with Glee

I'll never forget the premiere of Glee on May 19th, 2009. Three predominant emotions stand out in my memory: 1) abject fear and panic, as I'd just recently encountered some life problems that would not go away any time soon; 2) total confusion over the storytelling I was seeing on the screen in front of me - did this show really intend to deploy every single high school stereotype in the space of one hour?; 3) amazed disbelief at the glee club's cover of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" - a performance so good I immediately got onto itunes and downloaded it. Keep in mind that at this time, no one downloaded music heard on Glee, because it was a brand new show, so I felt like a teenager lusting after a Bieber-like phenomenon. But that song blew me away. And in the ensuing months, as I dealt with the fallout various life sadnesses, I used it countless times to elevate my mood. It always worked.

As Glee nears the end of its second season, I still feel those second two emotions a good portion of the time. Although the occasional episode will have a really strong story (see especially "Never Been Kissed"), most of the writing is pretty bad. The worst moments on the show feature characters acting entirely differently from how they acted previously, with no explanation given, nor any indication that this change represents true personal growth. But also, no less frequently than every other episode the Glee kids, a.k.a. New Directions, deliver a performance that completely slays me. In most cases, their cover is better than the original. The actors are so musically talented, and the show's music producers so adept at arrangements, that it's often like a fever dream for pop music lovers (of which I am, unashamedly, one). These songs, and their extreme playability on my ipod, are what keep me watching this show. (For the uninitiated, your life is incomplete without their covers of "Don't Stop Believin'," Journey's "Faithfully," Lady Gaga's "Poker Face," My Chemical Romance's "Sing," Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream," and, most of all, Queen's "Somebody to Love.")

Lately, I've been having a harder time than usual with the stories. My misgivings primarily settle into two categories: first, from an artistic standpoint, the writers don't seem to know the importance of consistency in character. They think nothing of completely changing a character's behavior for a brief moment in order to move the plot forward, but they never do the work to show us why this change occurred or how this character is moving forward. It's lazy, and an insult to the viewer. I could give many examples of this, but the worst offense was cheerleading coach Sue Sylvester's (Jane Lynch) behavior in the "Furt"episode.

One of the storylines this episode deals with is the mistreatment of Kurt Hummel (Chris Colfer, reliably outstanding even when in crappy stories), the only uncloseted gay student at McKinley High. His primary tormentor is football player Dave Karofsky (Max Adler), whom we the audience know is also gay, or at least confused. We're meant to believe, I think, that it's the confusion/shame/fear that Karofsky feels that leads him to bully Kurt, which makes sense, as bullies are typically cowards. The situation comes to a head when Kurt's dad (Mike O'Malley) happens to see Karofsky pick on Kurt in the hallway and demands a meeting with Kurt, Karofsky, Karofsky's dad, and Coach Sylvester (acting as principal, somewhat inexplicably). Coach Sylvester investigates the situation and apologizes quite sincerely to Kurt for his suffering. She tells him that because Karofsky hasn't touched him, there's nothing she can do. She says, firmly and without a trace of irony, "I will not have one student threatening the life of another."

Great way to handle the situation, right? Yes, except that is not even a little bit how Sue Sylvester handles situations. She is the consummate bully, constantly picking on students and colleagues alike. It's meant as comic relief, and it certainly worked as that, until suddenly she turned serious and insisted that she does not tolerate bullying. It's clear that the writers think that bullying someone for being gay is unacceptable, while bullying someone for being too masculine, too feminine, too fat, or too slutty is not only acceptable, it's HILARIOUS. In almost the same breath in which Sue tells Kurt she intends to watch his back in the hallway, she informs him that her new name for him will be "Porcelain," which replaces the only slightly more offensive "Lady." It's okay for Sue to poke fun at Kurt for being effeminate, but God forbid anybody cross the line and mock him for being gay. (For the record, I do not endorse making fun of people for either of these things, but to suggest that one is evil and one is merely amusing is very dangerous.)

The one thing that would rescue this storyline and keep it from becoming an artistic tragedy would be for Sue's response to Kurt to represent some real growth on her part, some understanding that bullying actually is wrong and maybe she should stop it too. No such luck. A few episodes later Sue, again pretty inexplicably, becomes the coach of Aural Intensity, the glee club at a rival high school. Her only reason for doing this is to make life harder for New Directions' coach, Will Schuester (Matthew Morrison). Will accidentally drunk dials Sue and leaves an embarrassing voicemail for her; she proceeds to play this voicemail over the public address system at the school. I don't understand what we're supposed to think of this character at this point. Again, I'd be happy to view her as merely comic relief, and then the bullying would be excused. Most TV shows have a "villain," and well they should, because villains create conflict. But when villains show shades of goodness, they must do so either with enormous ambivalence, or in a way that shows the possibility of true change, or at least true vulnerability, on their part. Glee's treatment of Sue Sylvester does neither of these things; instead, the writers simply use her for funny when it's convenient, and use her to create gravitas when that's convenient. This goes against all the rules of storytelling that I know.

My second major misgiving about Glee is the schema that it provides for how romantic relationships should be conducted. I'm sure that Glee's writers and producers are well aware that they have a substantial audience of teenagers, an age group particularly in need of guidance and direction where relationships are concerned. I'm not coming out as one of these conservative whistleblowers who thinks that family-oriented TV shows should only show kids in straight, monogamous, and sex-free relationships. This would not be reflective of the reality that kids are living in these days, and I think what anyone who writes for a TV show ought to be doing is seriously considering his or her own set of values for how relationships should work, and then more or less constructing characters' actions around those values. Naturally, more often than not I will disagree with a particular show's choice of value system, and then it is up to me to decide whether that show is enjoyable enough for me to overlook it. When I'm the parent of teenagers, obviously I will be more selective, although I'll also say that I won't necessarily prevent them from watching a show that depicts kids in situations I hope mine don't find themselves in. Ignoring the issues doesn't make them go away. I'll want my kids to watch shows that realistically engage them in the things they and their peers are dealing with, and then we'll talk about it so I can help them process what they've seen and discuss decisions they and their friends are making. But under no circumstances will my kids watch Glee (which probably won't still be around) or any other show with its severe lack of parameters.

Allow me to explain. I can forgive Glee for showing kids struggling with their sexuality, wanting to have sex, and being in functional homosexual relationships. All of these things are realities of this generation, and it would be foolish not to deal with them. But Glee takes it many steps further. It seems like the writers want to appear to be the most progressive, liberal writers in contemporary television, but instead they are all over the place. Characters are constantly hooking up and breaking up, but not in the harmless, melodramatic way we're using to seeing on TV. For the most part, when that occurs, teenagers have some idea of who or what they want. What Glee makes clear is that it's perfectly normal to have no idea who you want, because there is no normal. Most people, the show tells us, don't know if they're attracted to boys or girls, or if they want meaningless sex or committed relationships, or even how many people they want to be or should be sleeping with at once. The only thing the show frowns on is intolerance. Absolutely EVERYTHING else goes. Again, this isn't about being conservative or liberal, it's about being something. Everyone needs boundaries, especially teenagers. They are in a time of life that can be terrifying, and they need to know that somewhere a fencepost exists. If it's completely natural to be attracted to, and pursue your attraction to, all kinds of different people all the time, where does it end? And how do they know, really know, when they've finally figured out who they are?

The greatest offense against having some kind of standard that the show commits is in its handling of the relationship between New Directions' members Santana Lopez (Naya Rivera) and Brittany Pierce (Heather Morris). In many ways, the direction this relationship takes has parallels with the problems I see in the show's treatment of Sue Sylvester's character. It started out simply as comic relief: the girls, both cheerleaders at the beginning of the series, have "lady makeout" sessions despite both being in dating relationships with boys. (Brittany, at least, is usually in a relationship; Santana more often than not is just sleeping with someone or trying to create drama with one of the other girls). While I don't condone this, it was funny at first, and it was dealt with in such a way that it felt lighthearted and not that serious. There was no indication that these girls actually thought they might have feelings for each other or were doing anything other than messing around.

All that changed in the "Sexy" episode. Brittany tells Santana that their relationship has become too confusing for her, and she thinks they should talk to someone about it. Naturally, they choose substitute teacher Holly Holliday (Gwyneth Paltrow), who has just finished performing Joan Jett's "Do You Wanna Touch Me" for the Glee club (this totally crossed the line from humorous to inappropriate, but I digress). Ms. Holliday tells the girls that what matters isn't who you're attracted to, it's who you fall in love with. She encourages them to talk to each other about their feelings. Instead, they decide to sing, and Ms. Holliday joins them in a performance of Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide." While singing the song, Santana realizes that she's in love with Brittany. When she tells her this later, Brittany says that she loves Santana too, but she can't break up with her boyfriend, Artie, because she doesn't want to hurt him. Now, this is deeply confusing for me, and I'm an adult who is very sure of her sexual orientation. I can only imagine how this comes off for a teenager who is confused anyway. What this moment seems to be saying is that we are all capable of being in love with a man or a woman at any point, and our first responsibility is not to hurt those that we're in relationships with. While I obviously agree with the importance of commitment in a relationship, I thought that integrity mattered too, perhaps more, and if I were Artie I would want to know that my girlfriend now finds herself struggling with feelings for another girl. I would want her to work that out and make sure that she was straight and attracted to men and, specifically, attracted to me before she continued to date me.

So this is where the show really finished itself off in my opinion. For teenagers seeking answers, this show has done nothing but create more confusion. I don't know how a kid is supposed to grow up in an environment where he is constantly questioning his feelings for this person or that person and what they mean for who he is. I don't think sexuality is supposed to be this difficult. The problem with telling teens that experimentation is good and that there is no absolute standard for healthy relationships is that they grow up without anything solid to hold on to. I fear that this generation in particular and those that follow will never be entirely sure of either their sexual orientation or their love for the people they commit to. If experimenting is the way to find yourself, some may fear that they never finished experimenting. If I hadn't been taught a system of values for and a way of thinking about relationships while growing up, and if instead I'd chased every whim and every possibility, I bet I'd still be unsure about what kind of people I'm attracted to and what sort of relationship I hope to have one day.

The bottom line problem with Glee is not that it teaches controversial relationship practices to impressionable kids. It's that its writers have fallen victim to a common problem in this era: anything goes as an agenda. It's not one. Kids don't need more confusion, they need more guidance. It should go without saying that they really don't need to be shamed and rejected for struggling with who they are. But ultimately, they do need adults and those they look up to to live lives that reflect some kind of standard, some kind of boundary, so that those kids know that they are safe, and that they too will be able to be adults who can have a plumb line by which to make decisions. I would have a great deal more respect for Glee if it pushed a legitimate liberal, progressive agenda, rather than no agenda at all.