I saw the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy. It’s been going on for so long, I can’t remember which season it’s on. Eighth maybe? Well, anyway, I’m a firm believer of guilty pleasures. I’m certain that everyone has atleast one thing that they love either watching, listening to or why not eating, that they’d rather not tell anybody about. My guilty pleasure is Grey’s Anatomy. Even for a TV show nerd, it is not cool. Game of Thrones and Community and The Big Bang Theory are neat, but absolutely not Grey’s Anatomy.
I’ve followed this hospital show more or less ever since they started showing it in Sweden, which means about seven years. And it has become more twisted and more melodramatic and unrealistic for every season. Atleast four of the main characters have been shot. One was hit by a bus. One got an inoperable brain tumor but survived. One was in a car crash while she was pregnant, but both the baby and mom survived. And now, in the season finale, half of the main cast, who were on their way to help on a surgery in another state, were in a plane crash and the episode ends with them sitting by the fire in the middle of a forest, they have no idea if the rest of the world even knows that they are missing, and atleast three of them are in serious need of surgery. One is already dead.
And, you know, for every season I promise myself that this was the last. I won’t continue to the next season, they have gone over board this time, it’s far too unrealistic.
But now, sitting there watching the black screen after the last scene, feeling the craving to know what happens next, I thought: Why do I watch TV shows? To be entertained and touched and get a short break from reality. And that doesn’t necessarily mean it has to be realistic. My life is by no means uneventful, and it is as real as it can get. Isn’t drama exactly what we look for in TV? Why not let the TV shows be melodramatic and unrealistic.
So I’ll probably see the new season premiere in the fall, as soon as I can get my digital hands on it, but hopefully without the feeling of shame this time. Because, what’s really the difference between Grey’s Anatomy and Game of Thrones except the costumes? They are both soap operas in fancier disguise.
(That I’m on my way to Seattle, the city where all the drama at Seattle Grace-Mercy West takes place, might just be a huge coincidence…)
Katja Malmborg 