An honest review of TIVO by an ex-Luddite

Ever notice how the contenders for Best Invention might take the Worst Invention category, too?

The cell phone.  It’s given us unprecedented communications mobility, enabling us to stay in constant contact with loved ones and emergency personnel.  The downside?  That knuckledragger in the restaurant who is invariably talking to “Buddy” about the logistics surrounding some sports telecast.

The internet.  It’s spawned a virtual global community; placing facts, figures, opinions and hookups at our fingertips.  The downside?  Well… have you seen my blog?

And then there’s Tivo.  Four months into it, and not a downside in sight.  I hopped directly from video tapes to Tivo (skipping the DVD recorder altogether), so I’m still in a kind of tech euphoria.  You mean I don’t have to buy and store video tapes?  And I don’t have to slog through a TV guide?  And Tivo will find the lovely and talented Ms. Cherry Jones and bring her to me?   Yes, yes and yes.

I got the standard 80-hour box, thinking that would be more than enough, but that was before I discovered the ravishing splendor that is the Turner Classic Movie Channel.  Classic movies, no commercials.  The proverbial kid in the candy store, I currently have seventeen TCM movies recorded that I haven’t had time to watch.  But, since I stopped watching (well, fast-forwarding, mostly) the Ellen show after she had Bush on, I got some space back.

So here are some of the sweets:
1) You can tell Tivo to search for stuff and it goes out into the fortnight ahead, finds all appearances of said stuff, and tells you when and where it’s going to be on.  You can search by keyword, actor, title, director, etc.
2) With just the push of a button, you can get a “season pass” to your fave shows (Brothers and Sisters, hello!) and Tivo will automatically record them whenever they air.  No worries.
3) If the phone rings while you’re watching live TV, you can pause it then go back to it when Aunt Helga nods off on the other end.

And here’s the only stuff I can think of that could be better (and there’s a good chance there’s a way to make these things happen, I just haven’t figured it out yet):
1) On the initial “Tivo Central” screen that shows the list of features, etc., there is advertising.  Granted, it’s just one line of type, but I will never buy the Lexus they’re trying to unload and wish I could walk out of the showroom somehow.
2) There’s a way to delete shows you’re done with from your “now playing” list, but I wish there was a folder for things I want to keep forever, just to declutter the list a bit.

These two things are the only nits I’ve found to pick.  Tivo is golden.  You just push a button to tape and erase.  And who knows how many unnecessary video cassettes and DVDs this thing is going to save the landfill from.  (Actually, Avia probably has that calc’d out.) 

pamela duncan, i would like to unclip your barrettes and make beautiful laundry together

The first time I watched Erin Brockovich, I was thinking, “Oy vey!  Is this nothing more than a showcase for one fashion faux pas after another?  What is this, the summer stock version of La Cage aux Folles?”

Then it happened.  The first time ever I laid eyes on Ms. Cherry Jones.  She may have been pickled in chromium 6, but she was the most pulchritudinous being I had ever seen in a picture (apparently, one can be sick and hot at the same time.  who knew?).

And here’s the thing: she has maybe 45 seconds of screen time in total, but she fills every one of those seconds with depth.  This concentrated potion of hers imbues all of the films she appears in.  I used to sit cross-legged on my grass mat and meditate on why she (always the cast member with the richest presence… always) didn’t get bigger roles, and it would make me very grouchy.  Then, I decided I have to regard her as an ephemeral-yet-unforgettable comet, until the jackalopes in Hollywood wake up and see what’s good for ‘em.

something new will go here