hosting by

The Uncertain Revolution of HDTV, or a Pig in a Dress is Still a Pig

By Greg Coyle

We all have the opportunity on a nearly weekly basis to witness first-hand the avalanche of innovation that has become de rigeur in the last half of the 20th century. So much has been written about the increasingly short hallway from invention to obsolescence, and so evident is the dynamic for all but the most remote Appalachian still operator and Montana survivalist, it seems little worth the effort to repeat it.

There's simply no denying the fact: today's technological Pinta is tomorrow's Titanic. The rub is, we don't seem to care. We're on board no matter what, buying tickets like we're headed for a pina colada on the Lido deck with Gopher and Captain Stubing. We're junked up on the promise of new features almost without regard to what those features might be or whether or not we realistically expect to use them. (All who daily attempt to navigate the cluttered landscape that is Microsoft Word 97 know full well what top-heavy feels like.) Buzz phrases like "ease of use," "user-friendly" and "multimedia" are all choruses in the same siren song. And every day the list is changing, old words like floppy disc being recycled into CD-ROM, system into platform, program into application.

Enter high-definition television (HDTV), the new it technology of the moment. By all accounts, it is prepared to revolutionize our television viewing experience and, given our love affair with the TV, our lives. Right, and the proliferation of the PC has rewarded us with increased leisure time...

In truth, the problem is not the technology. The technology is a constant source of awe. (A toothbrush that brushes your teeth sonically...? A car alarm that talks? Miracles of a tireless human ingenuity.) The problem is us. If it is true that water finds its own level, we as a society must be a puddle. HDTV is one more collective rationalization, one more New Year's resolution. It will not be long before we can add its grand capabilities to our already overflowing closets, full of the effluvia of a generation of failed ambitions. Just take a look. There's the Nordic Trak, the Ab-Flex, the Berlitz language tapes, the unsold boxes of Amway soap and dishwashing detergent. Though we use our computers for video games and email; the Internet for sports scores, chat rooms and pornography; and CD-ROMs for video games and pornography with better graphics, we're going to exploit the educational opportunities brought by HDTV? Not likely. Before you know it, HDTV will have done no more than give us a crisper image of Urkel. This way to a brighter tomorrow.

There is, of course, no denying the fact that HDTV will bring with it features and choices not previously available. Current analog televisions are, for example, designed in a 4:3 format, while digital televisions will use an advanced 16:9 ratio, similar to that used by the motion picture industry. They will have CD-quality audio, with five-channel Dolby sound and a sixth low-frequency channel to enhance the bass. Given the compression capabilities of digital signals, broadcasters will be able to deliver one program of high-definition clarity, or four standard-definition programs, though the latter seems an unlikely choice.

In short, this new leap forward will herald a revolution in home entertainment akin to that experienced when TV first stole our attention away from the radio. Or will it? Let's address enhanced picture quality first. We are told the clarity of image achieved by these new TVs will make current varieties look like the reflection off the bottom of a Folger's coffee can.

It will bring pin-dropping clarity of sound. It will, in a manner of speaking, be the car to the buggy that we presently know as television. The question is not really whether this will happen, that seems only a matter of time. The more interesting question is whether it really matters. Review the monthly Nielson ratings and ask yourself, is a keen clarity of image of any real importance for these programs? In other words, will these developments have any meaningful effect on viewing experiences like "Suddenly Susan" or "Sabrina the Teenage Witch"? Will it make shows like "When Animals Attack, Part II" any less tasteless or "America's Funniest Videos" any less inane? (Note the rhetorical nature of that question.) With this enhanced clarity and audio, will the American TV viewer be inspired to jettison their predilection for such programs in favor of others that may be better suited to the technology? Doubtful. In the end, you can put a pig in a dress, but it's still a pig.

All that aside, can we also agree there are certain things we'd just rather not see more clearly than we do? Barbara Walters, Willard Scott, Regis and Kathie Lee all come to mind. At least for the sake of the attendant health costs (migraines, nausea, involuntary nosebleeds), shouldn't some programs simply remain in the dusty haze of 4:3 television?

O.K., forget the sensory enhancements, the crystalline picture, the perfect audio. The greater dividend, we're assured, will be the advancement in the interactive (another sexy word in today's technological marketplace) capabilities of these new TVs. This is the real meat in this dish. Say you're watching one of the many documentaries you enjoy and you want to learn more about the peculiar mating rituals of the Congan proboscis monkey. Or maybe in watching Masterpiece Theater's treatment of William Thackery's "Vanity Fair" you want to uncover some additional details about the sociopolitical milieu in which the author was writing. We are told all of this will be right at your fingertips, easily and readily accessed. And no doubt it will. (Forget this information and volumes more has long been available at your neighborhood library.)

The issue here is not expanded choice, but rather the near certainty that that choice will go unexploited. It's like the middle-aged American male who in the throes of a mid-life crisis picks himself up a loaded Porsche. Toweling down after a game of squash or having a cold Czech beer in the clubhouse, he's eager to boast about its muscle, its top speed, its performance and handling. In reality, the car is purchased more for what it can do, than for what it will do. If it were acquired for what it will do, these same men would brag not about its ability to go 0 to 60 in four seconds, but how beautifully it can fill out a car cover in the garage.

This is, of course, not to say that the interactive feature of HDTV will go wholly unused. The same people who actually checked out those books from the library and read them will no doubt avail themselves of the luxury of this kind of armchair research. For the vast majority of us, however, interactive will mean one thing - buy, buy, buy. If the Home Shopping Network and the Internet were not enough, now we'll be able to purchase all manner of things directly from the TV as we preside over our evening's choice of Lean Cuisine entree. Still convinced it's the shoddy exercise equipment keeping you from exercising? Order the newest thing right off the TV. Like the kicky togs worn by the model sipping a cappuccino in that beautiful Italian piazza? They're just a keystroke or two away.

Let's be honest. For most Americans, we equate choice with the number of things on the shelf at the grocery store, or the variety of color in a shirt we admire. It breaks down like this: there will be the people who choose HDTV for the intoxicating promise of choice; there will be those who have no interest: and then there will be those poor unfortunates highlighted in Doug Coupland's 1992 novel "Generation X: Tales for an Accelerated Culture." These people, given over to the trauma of what Coupland called "Option Paralysis" will, given the bounty of alternatives, fail to choose any.

As for those who can choose and choose to side with HDTV, their first decision is actually made for them: they must buy a television equipped to receive these digital signals if they are going to enjoy the new technology. Standard analog sets will be reduced almost overnight to the manifest of the great cultural slag heap, joining Victrolas, player pianos and any number of early computers. They will become novelties, accurate color in movies about the era, and the quarry of historians and Smithsonian curators.

And these new sets, the flagships of future home entertainment, they're not going to be cheap. Estimates are they will run about $3,000 for a 32-inch set and $6,000 for a 46-inch rear projection set. (For that price you could buy a plane ticket to the Congo, pick out your favorite of those proboscis monkeys and have a handsome pair of gloves made!) For those of us without that kind of expendable income, we'd better start weaning ourselves off the tube now.

The FCC has already mandated that the top four network stations in America's top 10 markets begin their digital transmissions in the next 14 months. If that weren't enough, by government order, analog signals are required to continue only up until 2006. After that, it's anyone's guess. It is likely, however, that if analog transmissions continue they will be the sole province of a local access-brand of TV. Consequently, those left behind by the HDTV party boat will have to content themselves with transvestites for God and crackpot conspiracy theorists for their evening viewing. As for the set-top converter boxes (expected to run about $200) that will, if added to a standard analog television, deliver HDTV's improved picture quality, they will not allow their owners to take advantage of the technology's much vaunted interactive capabilities.

With all that said, HDTV is going to happen. It's already happening, and there are legions of people slavering in wait for it to arrive to a shopping mall near you. So when the fanfare starts in earnest here's a choice. You can run to Target and lay down your $3,000 dollars. Or you can eke out the final expiring gasps of your analog TV. Or, better yet, maybe it's time to pull out those language tapes from beneath your dusty Atari video system and give them a listen. Sprechen Sie Deutsch? Ja, Ich spreche Deutsch.