When Did the Page Flip to the Future?

Have you seen the then-humorous social satire film SLEEPER released in 1973 starring Woody Allen (who helped write it) and Diane Keaton?  (According to AI, the film can still be viewed on Movie Hub with Roku.)

Miles Monroe, a dedicated health store owner, has been cryogenically frozen and revived 200 years in the future to assist in a rebellion against an oppressive government. Miles is shocked at the changes he sees in the world as he’s unwrapped from his tin foil. To help him adjust, he’s offered ice cream and fudge that foolishly had been labeled unhealthy in his day.

What made me think of that film in particular? This week I felt my husband and I might have accidentally been transported into the story. Nice old couple that we are, we went to a local optometrist’s office to order new glasses for my husband, expecting the same routine we’ve experienced through the years. The delay was familiar, but the equipment in the exam room was new. We weren’t surprised. No one liked the annoying dilation that went before. The medical assistant assured us we had only a brief wait for the doctor. We watched the door. No one came, but on a large flat screen mounted above the eye chart, a headshot of a woman in front of a bland fake background began to speak.

My husband, who was obediently examining color photos of the interior of his eyes on a monitor to our left, thought he was supposed to respond over the images. He peered at them intently. “Hello?”  I poked him. “She’s up there,” I prompted.

We both looked up. The woman was talking to us! Could she see us? Should we answer?  Did we seem as unreal to her as she did to us? I immediately thought of the SLEEPER character Luna Schlosser exercising with a gigantic two-dimensional image of a perfect fitness instructor. Luna was utterly dependent on her oversized television for guidance and company. The independence of Miles Monroe upset her mightily. My husband and I empathized. Was our two-dimensional doctor AI? She wasn’t a familiar face or voice from our town. Where was she? Certainly nowhere near us. She didn’t smile or introduce herself. Her name appeared in tiny, tiny print at the bottom of the screen. No one had prepared us for the change. Suddenly the world felt metallic and impersonal. How can you form a trusting working relationship with an image—even if it does advise appropriately? Have you ever been interviewed for something akin to television—asked to act normal while staring into a featureless black camera eye? It’s creepy.

In the past year, our world has spun into what feels like a twisted, unfriendly dimension where innocent citizens can be shot or bound in their cars or homes or schools. Taking a line from the lips of movie villains and Stephen Miller, being kind is considered weak. Force and intimidation are admired. My husband and I know we aren’t the only people who feel angry and off-balance. I can’t imagine a reality in which replacing trusted leaders and experts with attractive media stars who demonstrate questionable qualifications would feel comfortable, even if all the rest of our institutions and watchdog organizations hadn’t transformed so suddenly and brutally. Someone’s saving time and money; it isn’t us.

But we can get used to talking to flat screens if that’s necessary. We’ve adapted to much more over the decades. What we refuse to lose is our love and respect for ourselves and our neighbors. We need opportunities to reach out and feel the living hands of diverse others reaching back for us. Superficial differences must recede into the background. We’ve discovered heroes and role models in many guises, from many places, who’ve taught and enriched us and our concepts of our universe emotionally and intellectually. Our perspective keeps broadening. We’re thankful for them all as we attempt to be a part of the solution, to be worthy of being called civilization.