Throughout human history, predicting the future has
preoccupied the imagination and brought on everything from novel invention to widespread
panic. Stories were concocted about the end times, fumes were inhaled to receive
divine insight, and all manner of objects were consulted, all in an attempt to predict
what was coming next. Television, like any storytelling medium, was also used
to convey ideas about what the future might be like—using predictive strategies
from serious contemplation to idealistic daydreams to plain old SWAGs. What
follows are a series of examinations of different techniques used in television
to predict the future.
Early in television history, Walt Disney’s show Disneyland was submitted to the Peabodys multiple times. When it won in 1954, the Peabody panel said it had “changed the bedtime habits of the nation’s children.” The “Tomorrowland” segment always had audiences thinking about the world of tomorrow, if there was life on other planets, and new technologies that could be developed. In one episode entitled “Mars and Beyond,” Disney focuses on efforts to build a spacecraft that can reach Mars. The episode is documentary-like, detailing humanity’s interaction with Mars, from Greek philosophers to a 1957 scientist explaining how it is possible for Mars to sustain life. Everything is illustrated, there are even accounts from scientists to back up the points the episode makes.
The most notable aspect
of this episode’s approach to the future is that instead of explaining the trip
to Mars using conditional words like, “could,” “would,” “maybe,” or even the
future “will,” the Disneyland episode is all in present tense, as if the
launch was actually happening then. As everything is said, it is carried out
through cartoon, models, or still images.
The only time conditional words are used is after the
spacecraft makes contact with Mars, because no one at the time had actually seen
close up what the surface of Mars looked like. This decision to use certainty made
the program’s predictions of impending travel to Mars more engaging and
entertaining for its audience—fueling the imaginations of the young viewers, as
was ultimately the show’s prerogative.
On July 10, 1962, ABC
launched Telstar; it no longer runs today, but this communications
satellite was considered a big deal by everyone in the industry. It was the
first satellite to send television pictures, telephone calls, and fax images
from space. The launch of the satellite coincided with a film entitled Worldvision:
A Passport to the Future.
ABC believed that the
launching of Telstar would influence how communications would evolve,
and as such the company would be at the forefront of this technological
advance. Exalted for its stunning visuals, this program tragically no longer
exists beyond a working script and an audio recording. However from these, the
optimism of the broadcaster is clear as the program exclaims that with the
satellite, the communications industry would be launched into the future and,
as the title implies, ABC was inviting the world to come along for the ride.
Conversely, The World of Tomorrow takes an approach to visualizing the future based largely on novelty. The program emphasizes the “wow factor” of technological advancements possible in the next decade (from 1984) with flashing lights, outer space-themed graphics, musical accompaniment reminiscent of futuristic programs like Star Trek and the astonished-sounding narration of William Shatner. It presents dozens of future inventions like computer-generated graphics in movies, interactive laser compact discs, and lasik surgery—which in hindsight, weren’t too far off. There are few dramatizations; most of its glimpses of the future are of the specific technology in play during the present, so its conceptualization was founded entirely on things currently in existence, with no speculation really needed. By keeping few its forays into the realm of complete conjecture, the program embraces extraordinary aspects of its future world while keeping it grounded in reality. However, when the era of the future being predicted is only a few years off, rather than centuries, the margin for error shrinks considerably. Programs like this, which aim to legitimately give their audience a glimpse into the near future, must take care to ensure that their representation has a good chance of being accurate, because many who watch it will actually live to find out.
Conversely, The World of Tomorrow takes an approach to visualizing the future based largely on novelty. The program emphasizes the “wow factor” of technological advancements possible in the next decade (from 1984) with flashing lights, outer space-themed graphics, musical accompaniment reminiscent of futuristic programs like Star Trek and the astonished-sounding narration of William Shatner. It presents dozens of future inventions like computer-generated graphics in movies, interactive laser compact discs, and lasik surgery—which in hindsight, weren’t too far off. There are few dramatizations; most of its glimpses of the future are of the specific technology in play during the present, so its conceptualization was founded entirely on things currently in existence, with no speculation really needed. By keeping few its forays into the realm of complete conjecture, the program embraces extraordinary aspects of its future world while keeping it grounded in reality. However, when the era of the future being predicted is only a few years off, rather than centuries, the margin for error shrinks considerably. Programs like this, which aim to legitimately give their audience a glimpse into the near future, must take care to ensure that their representation has a good chance of being accurate, because many who watch it will actually live to find out.
On a very different note, Time Trumpet is a documentary made in 2031—or a satirical faux-documentary
made in 2006, depending on who you ask. It takes then-contemporary trends to
the illogical extreme by making the program as scatterbrained, celebrity
obsessed, and ill-focused as its audience “will be.” It pokes fun at human
nature as something absurdly shallow, yet pushes no real agenda; it simply
deteriorates into nonsensical logic and jabs at people, corporations, and the
documentary format. It uses the near-future as a fun house mirror for the
present.
Choosing a strategy for portending, predicting, or playacting the future all depends on the oracle’s goals. From the idealism of the technology advertiser to the scathing absurdity of the satirist, no one way is useful for all objectives. Though some strategies may prove more accurate in the long run, very often the aim of the program is more immediate. In fact, the way in which the future is presented says more about the present than its ostensible subject matter. Starry-eyed idealism and outlandish optimism may serve the advertiser and the entertainer, but realism is more apropos for the journalist, as pessimism is for the activist documentarist.
Finally, Futurescape opens segments of its program, like this one, with
dramatizations of the future that introduce its discussion of how modern
research could develop into technologies that shape the distant future. Here,
the scene-setting sketch portrays a future city much like one today, except
with high-rise structures built with some amorphous future architecture and
flying cars zooming through the air. Yet when it zooms in to street level, we
see people who remain dressed in modern American style, speaking English, and
exhibiting behavior no different than one would expect of people today. This
concept of the future, it seems, is different from the present in very
imaginative ways - like robots who look like and live alongside humans - yet
similar and largely identical on other levels. On the one hand, the idea of
robots with human functions who demand the right to vote is highly presumptive,
given that today’s robots can barely manage to traverse such difficult terrain
as a slightly raised threshold. On the other, it’s an equal stretch to assume
that the United States government, the English language, and modern customs and
lifestyles will still exist a hundred or more years from today. It’s something drastically
advanced fit into familiar and realistic concepts.
Such is Futurescape’s
approach to visualizing the future: a sensational portrayal built around actual
technological advancements that are unlikely to affect the future in the ways
the show presents any time soon. Research into mapping the circuitry of the human
brain may, in fact, enable scientists and engineers to build computers that can
mimic or duplicate its functions. Achieving this is one thing, developing it
into a viable technology that is consistently problem-free and successful is
another. As neat as it is to imagine the possibility of having computer chips
that enhance the processing power of the brain or humanoid robots with emotions
and ethical decision making power, the odds of it all are slim for the
foreseeable future.
However with futurism,
an artistic movement that rejects traditional
forms in order to celebrate through art the energy and dynamism of modern
technology, the canvas on which
to paint is boundless. Programs like The
Jetsons and Star Trek have made
use of those endless possibilities in their depictions of the future—some
intentionally absurd and some borrowing from principles of theoretical physics
to legitimize the program’s scenarios. With no definite predictor of exactly
what is possible years down the road, no idea of what the future might hold for
humankind is too outlandish. Futurescape seems comfortable,
within the constraints of reason, to go as far as they can with that creative
license.
Choosing a strategy for portending, predicting, or playacting the future all depends on the oracle’s goals. From the idealism of the technology advertiser to the scathing absurdity of the satirist, no one way is useful for all objectives. Though some strategies may prove more accurate in the long run, very often the aim of the program is more immediate. In fact, the way in which the future is presented says more about the present than its ostensible subject matter. Starry-eyed idealism and outlandish optimism may serve the advertiser and the entertainer, but realism is more apropos for the journalist, as pessimism is for the activist documentarist.