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As certain as the cathode ray guns of autumn, professional and amateur TV critics in the next few weeks will raise their familiar September Song of despair, the Wasteland Revisited dirge. The point that they invariably miss is that the programs visited upon the public tell as much about the national psyche as the deodorant commercials. Viewers may not get what they deserve, but to a remarkable degree they get what they want. Television is not folklore or an art form but an advertising medium. "Our product," says one network official, "is heads in front of television sets." If the current lineup fails in the ratings, replacements —already chosen—will start appearing next month.
Quite clearly, if people want cultural uplift, it is not from TV —at least, not in very large doses. The critics might be encouraged by the fact that shows of above-medium competence, such as Eleanor and Franklin and Helter Skelter, have been successful, and that the networks have now invested huge sums in the serialization of novels, culturally a hefty cut above the sitcom. If Thornton Wilder can survive serialization and engross the viewer, who can say that the networks cannot some day succeed with, say, War and Peace or Look Homeward, Angel?