One of the reasons Americans are not more concerned about climate change, and don’t do more about it, is that there is a superabundance of entertainment available to take our minds off of it, and to give us something easier and more pleasurable to do than the hard work of saving ourselves and our planet in the face of the objections of industry and government. For the most part, American culture is not an especially serious culture. There are few deep traditions we are tied to, high art is enjoyed in small doses and by small segments of the population, and our discussions of “issues” are generally confined to the 24-hour or 7-day news cycles. We elected a bombastic self-proclaimed reality-TV star for president. We prefer to be entertained than to think, and when we must think about important issues, we prefer talk to action.
One way to force our society to get serious and demand immediate action at the national level would be a strike by the entertainment industry, which we could probably limit to the movie and TV industries here, though professional sports would also certainly have a major impact on people. This would mean no new movies and no new television. Think of the outcry there would have been if Avengers: Endgame had been whisked out of viewers’ grasps just a week before it was due to hit theaters. Imagine HBO saying, “Okay, America—you want the finale to Game of Thrones? Demand that something be done to save the planet.” Granted, now that the finale has been aired, and it’s been generally agreed that it was a colossal disappointment, people probably would be happy to have it gone—but they would not have known that at the time, and would have been champing at the bit to learn the outcome of the battle for the future of that fantasy world.
Hollywood likes to position itself as the nation’s liberal conscience (something that has fueled conservative ire for decades), from its fairly predictable tropes in major films to often-political Oscar acceptance speeches. There have been a number of films with massive budgets that earned billions of dollars that carried an environmental theme of greater or lesser obviousness (Avatar, Evan Almighty, Avengers: Endgame, etc.), but the cumulative effect of these special-effects extravaganzas on society has not been apparent. If Hollywood really wants to get serious about environmental action, they could do more good by refusing to make (or release) movies than by making them. The current model for most blockbusters is to set up an initial blockbuster, make the sequel or spin-off probability obvious to the viewer by the end, and then hype up the sequels with even more massive advertising campaigns than the original received. All Hollywood would have to do is hype a number of sequels that promise to deliver more of the same, or provide answers to pressing fan questions, and then press pause on the release until the public demands action.
There are a number of guilds representing the different people needed to bring a film or TV series to completion: the Writers Guild of America (WGA), the Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (SAG-AFTRA), the Directors Guild of America (DGA), the Producers Guild of America (PGA), and others. A strike by any one could shut down production until demands were met. The demands would not be related to the film and television industry, though, which could cause conflict. A more unified, top-to-bottom approach would be better, but would be unlikely. Previous entertainment-industry strikes have been motivated by financial self-interest, not an interest in a healthy planet. But perhaps Hollywood could see its way to temporarily putting profits aside in order to walk the walk for a while. If the powers that be at the top are in agreement, they could have the films and television shows made, pay the actors and crew, and hold off on delivering the final product to the public until the demanded actions were taken.
It would put the issue into the national spotlight in a way that a self-interested strike would not. When fans learned that they would not be getting the latest Marvel film due to inaction over climate change, and not because of internal financial disagreements, the issue would be hotly debated in all corners. Those on the right would again attack Hollywood for being sanctimonious in its liberal values, and a segment of the population would likely turn its anger at Hollywood for putting their entertainment on hold, but millions of people would be spurred to demand greater action from their government, even if it were just to get their entertainment back. Perhaps, in the meantime, they could find something more meaningful to engage in than being a passive viewer, staring at a screen. The more direction Hollywood could offer audiences for how to get involved, the better—whether it’s how to petition the government, how to find and work with local organizations, or how they can change their own habits to lessen their impact on the Earth. It could be a teachable moment for the country and one that developed a more meaningful, less one-directional bond between producers and consumers of entertainment. Both could use social media to correspond about progress on their efforts and could continue to stay in contact even after the strike to discuss important environmental issues and what could be done about them. A return to film and television entertainment would hopefully not feel completely like business as usual again; there would be a sense of accomplishment, on the part of viewers and the film and television industry—a feeling like they had accomplished something, and had earned the right to enjoy themselves for a while, knowing that they were putting their government on the right track and providing more hope for their future. Both sides might, in the end, might even be a little less consumed by the fate of fictional worlds at the cost of their own.