Today in end-stage capitalism:

And thus, with the last lingering thread of our cultural self-respect so brutally snapped, I welcome the errant asteroid or super volcano that will put an end our blighted little civilization. I give you:

"It's the heart-warming chimera born of cynical materialism
and the death of artistic integrity you're been waiting for!"

-an actual review*

Pictured: Walmart's chief marketing officer.

Behold and despair. This is a...well, I hesitate to call it a film or a streaming series, so let's just call it a death knell of the pretense that the holidays are anything but crass consumerism. No? Too florid? Fine, it's a series, but it's also a commercial. For Walmart. Or, as Walmart's chief marketing officer says: "It's not a RomCom. It's RomCommerce." Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go shower. Hang on...ok, I'm back. So it's a streaming series consisting of twenty-three episodes full of conspicuously placed Walmart products that you can buy. 

"What if we used entertainment to sell products?"

-some genius having

totally original idea

Depending on what platform you're watching it on, you can either click on a link or have a link texted to you--because who doesn't like adds texted to them?--which will take you to the company's site where you can buy all the things so seamlessly inserted into a particular scene. Seamless if it never occurs to you to wonder why the camera is lingering on a power drill, or what the narrative rational was for a close up on the coffee maker. I watched a few of the scenes--for science--and it's a gross as it sounds.

Above: a scene from literally any
holiday romcom. Like, name one.

I have seen, in my life, one Christmas themed rom com, and I know they're famously not about story, but the plot was exactly the same as this series': our protagonist is a hard working New York professional with a tough, but ultimately kind-hearted boss, and a seemingly perfect boyfriend who proposes. Said protagonist is overwhelmed and she can't decide whether or not to say yes when, due to reasons, she is compelled to spend the holidays with her family in the small town where she grew up. 

Get ready to thirst after that Hart 20-Volt
combo kit with lithium batteries, now
only $148, with free shipping.

There, she re-encounters her down-to earth and ruggedly handsome ex with whom, despite a series of misunderstandings, she rekindles her relationship, and ultimately they marry--I assume. The complete series hasn't launched yet, but I mean, of course that's where this is going. Of course it is. Also, there's a gay best friend who is as perfunctory as the phrase "also there's a gay best friend" would make him sound. Sorry, I'm complaining about how a twenty-three installment Walmart commercial didn't have a terribly interesting or original story, aren't I? 

In a way you do have to admire that they're not even pretending that this is anything other than shallow and unvarnished marketing. Well, ok, you don't have to admire it. The idea of advertisement-driven narrative "entertainment" is end-stage capitalism and a grim portent of the world to come. But at least it's on-brand for a giant, faceless corporation like Walmart. 

Pictured: a scene set in Walmart wherein Jess introduces her gay best friend Micheal to her
ex-flame Javi, but pretends that Micheal is her boy friend in order to--huh, I think I just this moment 
realized why we use "end-stage," a phrase usually associated with cancer, to describe capitalism. 

 

*by me. What?