Learning about American housing through The Sims

Playing The Sims may just offer a few lessons about housing in the United States:

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The Sims felt like a trial run for adulthood, exploring how you’d make use of your future autonomy. Much of this validated the importance of personal space: how to lay out a room, how to choose a sofa that balanced aesthetics and comfort, how to make a house a home…

The official trailer for The Sims 4: For Rent emphasizes the potential of “multiunit life,” promising “ample opportunity … [for] eavesdropping, snooping, or even breaking and entering”—a description that instantly evoked memories of my worst roommates…

Inevitably, a lot has changed. The peaceful suburb I remembered from childhood has been replaced by elaborate “worlds” that I can (effortfully, via a loading screen) switch between to grow my property portfolios. The Sims 4 is more immersive and finely drawn, visually, than the original was, but it’s also more involved: It took me a whole afternoon to create my first Sim and set her up in her “hovel.”…

But soon my frustration (as Edith) with Jazz’s requests started to outweigh my commitment to being the Only Good Landlord. Every notification from the rental instantly provoked my impatience. Not the damn tenant again! The slow, clunky transition within the game between Edith’s home and the rental only added to my frustration and my creeping sense of Jazz as a burden. Why did this guy need so much of Edith’s energy?

With For Rent, The Sims has perhaps moved too far toward reflecting brutal reality, forcing players to choose between being on one side or the other of an often fractious and all-too-familiar power imbalance. As a child, I was drawn to The Sims as a role-play for adulthood, a world of expansive promise and possibility; playing For Rent, I was reminded, depressingly, of how the game is rigged.

The Sims is a game, a product intended to provide enjoyment for players. Can one gamify the rental experience in the United States?

More broadly, The Sims puts a home – owned or rented – at the center of the experience. The United States has a long history of celebrating the single-family home. Renting may be common in some places but it can also be treated with suspicion in other places. Players of the game can make their own choices but they are limited by what is possible in the game as well as what is possible in our society.

Anyone able to offer an analysis of housing, landlords, and properties in general across the Will Wright creations? Simcity offered a particular take as did SimTower – has this changed noticeably over the years? Are there any video games that do a different or better job of portraying property and renting?

Tax breaks and Chicago suburban locations standing in for other locations in films and TV shows

The state of Illinois offers tax breaks for filming in the state. This means the Chicago suburbs can stand in for numerous other locations:

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The state’s film production tax credit allows qualified productions to receive a 30% transferable tax break on most production costs and certain salaries. Producers can also receive 15% more for hiring workers living in “economically disadvantaged areas.” In return, these productions generate jobs and draw business from outside the region.

According to a new report commissioned by Dudley’s group, the state’s film incentive is the biggest box office draw for Hollywood. A survey of producers included in the report indicates more than 90% of the productions shot in Illinois would not have occurred without the incentive…

Producers of the television series “Fargo” used Elgin and other suburban locales as a stand-in for Kansas City a few years ago. Acclaimed director David Fincher turned downtown St. Charles into upstate New York for his recent Netflix film, “The Killer.” And parts of Warrenville and Lockport are used as substitutes for Manhattan, Kansas, in the HBO series “Somebody, Somewhere.”…

This commonly happens in movies and television shows: a filming location stands in for another place. This could include filming on a backlot or in another city or community.

Yet, it still is a strange experience to see a location you recognize on-screen that is supposed to be somewhere else. Imagine you live in a suburb listed above. These communities have their own history roughly 30-40 miles outside of Chicago. They exist alongside dozens of other suburbs. But, you could be watching what is supposed to be Kansas City and you recognize this suburb. Or, Manhattan, Kansas is on-screen and it happens to look like Lockport. Do these geographic switches make the on-screen presentation less real? How many people notice the disconnects?

The article also emphasizes the role of finances: tax breaks help drive where filming takes place. I assume there are also efforts to try to make sure the stand-in location looks similar to what is supposed to be depicted. Do certain suburbs make good stand-ins for all suburbs or are particular metropolitan regions good to offering the variety of locations studios might want?

Leave It to Beaver’s downtown and Skokie, Illinois

Television shows may use a variety of settings to film scenes. Given my research on suburbs depicted on television, this example struck me as it combines a famous suburban show and a Chicago suburb:

A variety of websites back up this claim (IMDB, blog). The first home in the show, what I describe as having “two stories, a one-car garage, three bedrooms, and at least two bathrooms (Bennett 1996),” was on a Universal Studios backlot. The show is often held up as an exemplar of suburban-set TV shows in the postwar era yet I noted that it “ran six seasons but never cracked the top 30” most popular TV shows.

As a fictitious show set in an unnamed community, it is interesting to consider why Skokie might have been chosen. Was there existing footage that could be used? Did someone connected to the show or studio have a personal connection to Skokie? Did Skokie represent the experiences of American suburbs at this time? Would someone watching the show then or now see this scene and connect to particular places?

Here is a similar view from Google Street View in August 2019:

The sort of construction on the right – what looks like mixed-use four-story buildings – is common in suburban downtowns where they hope that increased numbers of downtown residents will patronize local businesses and restaurants in addition to those who want to visit such locations. These streetscapes have often replaced one- to two-story structures such as those in the top image.

When I enter an American hotel room, I think I am supposed to watch TV

Hotel rooms in the United States can look different across brands and locations. However, one feature I have noticed through recent years is consistent: there is a large television mounted in a prominent location in the room.

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The primary purpose of a hotel room is sleep. It is a place to stay when away from home. It is a bedroom. The bed or beds are usually the biggest pieces of furniture of the room and take up the most square footage.

Yet, it is hard to miss how big the TV often is in hotel rooms. There is a lot of entertainment available through this TV. When I was a kid, I remember lots of hotels advertising that they had cable or particular cable channels or particular premium movie channels. This is not the case now and you can often log into your own streaming accounts through these TVs.

The design of hotel rooms suggest Americans want to continue to do what they do plenty of at home: watch TV. Perhaps this reflects what Americans have done for decades: watch hours of TV a day. Even with ubiquitous smartphones, tablets, and laptops, Americans keep watching TV whether home or away.

(Other ways to get at this topic: what percent of Americans have a television in their bedroom and how many TVs, particularly big ones, are in Airbnbs.)

Writing the best suburban stories and acknowledging real suburban life

What makes for a good suburban story? A review of one suburban memoir makes an argument of what needs to be present:

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The best suburban stories, on the page or on-screen, are deceptively complex, affixing irony or self-knowledge to what may initially appear to be mere scathing social criticism. Take Revolutionary Road, the searing 1961 Richard Yates novel adapted to the big screen by Sam Mendes in 2008. This is the tragedy of Frank and April Wheeler (played in the film by Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet), average New Yorkers in the ’50s who move to a tree-lined Connecticut suburb to start a family and watch their dreams die. Frank commutes to the city for a sales job he loathes. April whiles away her days with the kids, forgoing whatever ambitions she might otherwise have had.

Here’s the catch: As April and Frank plan a move to Paris—where Frank will do an unspecified creative something—then retreat back into a domestic existence both tortured and predictable, it becomes clear that they would live quotidian lives no matter where they laid their heads. Paris. Connecticut. New York. The suburbs just happen to be the perfect venue for their smallness, the place where their silent scream can disappear between the hedges. In this sense, Yates’s suburban critique carries a strong whiff of irony. After all, it’s hard to blame the perfect lawns and fake smiles when you carry your misery the way a turtle carries its shell.

The only truly honest person in these suburbs is John, the adult son of the community’s busybody real estate agent. John is a mathematician who has undergone extensive shock treatment for his mental illness, a spirit stifled by his family’s shame and hyperconformity. (Michael Shannon plays him in the film and walks away with the whole thing.) John might actually be happier in Waldie’s Lakewood, where strange behavior, including obsessive hoarding, arguably becomes part of the town’s beautiful fabric, the answer to any easy assumptions of conformity…

The naked reality Waldie depicts subverts any impulse to indulge dystopian visions or Twilight Zone–like allegories. (The suburbs, incidentally, provided a feast for The Twilight Zone. Take 1960’s “The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street,” in which a bland collection of suburban neighbors, walled off from the rest of the world, become a self-immolating mob when they suspect an alien invasion.) Waldie doesn’t need such devices to conjure his uncanny suburbia. He accentuates minute details of housing and neighborhood construction—drywall, crape myrtle, layers of stucco—with philosophical musings and remembrances that sometimes cross over into the macabre. “In the suburbs,” he writes, “a manageable life depends on a compact among neighbors. The unspoken agreement is an honest hypocrisy.”

Is the suggestion here that the problems people face in the suburbs are the same sorts of problems they would face in other settings? Or that people in the suburbs are idiosyncratic just as they are elsewhere?

I wonder if the difference is that the American Dream placed a large burden on suburbs: life had to be good, not just normal. The sparkle of the new home and suburban lifestyle were not just to be settled into and lived in; it had to be the apex of American, and perhaps global, life.

On the whole, the standard of living in American suburbs is pretty high compared to historic and global settings. But, could any place easily be the promised land? It is probably not a coincidence that this book is titled Holy Land.

Cannot unsee the studio backlot, snowy Christmas commercial edition

After touring several Hollywood backlots years ago, I see them pop up in many places. Here is a Coca-Cola television advertisement with a closing scene from a southern California backlot:

I am pretty sure that this scene was filmed here.

On one hand, it is exciting to be watching a film, TV show, or commercial and recognize a place. It pops out at you out of the other anonymous scenery. On the other hand, this is not a real place. It is a backlot where all sorts of “places” can be made. With some work and added elements, these backlots can look like a lot of different places.

As I have found in studying suburbs on TV shows, places are presented on screens in particular ways. It is hard to communicate the feel and experience of a place on a two-dimensional screen when the emphasis is often on a few characters. Backlots can be changed up but if you know what you are looking for, you can spot them in all sorts of displays. Or, films, shows, and commercials tend to be shot in some places and not others. With these patterns, we do not necessarily see real places or the range of places within the United States.

The wealth needed for the “Home Alone” house and life

Not everyone can live the Home Alone life:

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Aside from the quirkiness of this 90s film staple, another aspect of the movie that continues to captivate audiences is the question: just how rich were the McCallisters? The New York Times set out to find out by speaking with economists and professionals at the Federal Reserve. It turns out, according to the report, they were indeed rich — to the tune of being in the top 1%.

The article goes on to say that the McCallisters’ stunning home is proof of just how much money they have. The real house used for its exterior shots in the film is actually located on Lincoln Avenue in Winnetka, a Chicago suburb that happens to be one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the United States, the NY Times reports, citing Realtor.com.

At the time that the film came out in 1990, this massive Georgian-Colonial style home was affordable to only the 1%. It turns out, 32 years later, the house is still only within reach of the 1%, according to economists at the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago, the NY Times reports. Three economists poured over data, including household incomes of the area for 1990 and 2022, the property value, mortgage rates at the time, taxes and insurance to come to this conclusion…

“In the middle of 2022, a similar house would cost about $2.4 million, based on the Zillow estimate for the ‘Home Alone’ house. A home of that value would be affordable to a household with an income of $730,000, which would be in the top 1 percent of Chicago-area households,” the economists said.

The house is key. It is large, expensive, and in a wealthy suburban neighborhood. It is not a McMansion; it is a mansion.

Can you have madcap Christmas capers that end well without a large expensive house? I would guess that an analysis of houses depicted in Christmas movies would show they tend to be larger than normal – this is common in movies and television.

Imagine Home Alone in a 1,000 square foot 1950s ranch home or a 1 bedroom apartment. Would it be better? Significantly different?

Barbie could only live in the Los Angeles region

Barbie is one of the most famous toys and she resides near Los Angeles. Could she live anywhere else? I pondered this when seeing Barbie:

This scene, along with others in the movie, firmly place Barbie in and around Los Angeles. There are palm trees. Beach scenes along the ocean and boardwalk. The mountains looming in the background. A replacement for the “Hollywood” sign. Her dreamhouse is in Malibu.

Could Barbie live in other locations? How about Manhattan Barbie? Atlanta Barbie? Omaha Barbie? These are harder to imagine. Barbie has a lifestyle tied to a postwar vision of the American Dream exemplified by life in Los Angeles. She was not alone; TV shows endlessly showed life in southern California, Disneyland first opened there, and sprawling suburbia became a model.

A new city and/or region could become the marker of a new era and new toys. Perhaps Houston? A different city that will grow rapidly and look different or exhibit different patterns of life and development?

Did certain sitcoms change American society – and how would we know?

Did Norman Lear change American culture through the television shows he created? Here is one headline hinting at this:

From the linked article, here are some of the ways Lear was influential:

Lear had already established himself as a top comedy writer and captured a 1968 Oscar nomination for his screenplay for “Divorce American Style” when he concocted the idea for a new sitcom, based on a popular British show, about a conservative, outspokenly bigoted working-class man and his fractious Queens family. “All in the Family” became an immediate hit, seemingly with viewers of all political persuasions.

Lear’s shows were the first to address the serious political, cultural and social flashpoints of the day – racism, abortion, homosexuality, the Vietnam war — by working pointed new wrinkles into the standard domestic comedy formula. No subject was taboo: Two 1977 episodes of “All in the Family” revolved around the attempted rape of lead character Archie Bunker’s wife Edith.

Their fresh outrageousness turned them into huge ratings successes: For a time, “Family” and “Sanford,” based around a Los Angeles Black family, ranked No. 1 and No. 2 in the country. “All in the Family” itself accounted for no less than six spin-offs. “Family” was also honored with four Emmys in 1971-73 and a 1977 Peabody Award for Lear, “for giving us comedy with a social conscience.” (He received a second Peabody in 2016 for his career achievements.)

Some of Lear’s other creations played with TV conventions. “One Day at a Time” (1975-84) featured a single mother of two young girls as its protagonist, a new concept for a sitcom. Similarly, “Diff’rent Strokes” (1978-86) followed the growing pains of two Black kids adopted by a wealthy white businessman.

Other series developed by Lear were meta before the term ever existed. “Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman” (1976-77) spoofed the contorted drama of daytime soaps; while the show couldn’t land a network slot, it became a beloved off-the-wall entry in syndication. “Hartman” had its own oddball spinoff, “Fernwood 2 Night,” a parody talk show set in a small Ohio town; the show was later retooled as “America 2-Night,” with its setting relocated to Los Angeles…

One of Hollywood’s most outspoken liberals and progressive philanthropists, Lear founded the advocacy group People for the American Way in 1981 to counteract the activities of the conservative Moral Majority.

The emphasis here is on both television and politics. Lear created different kinds of shows that proved popular as they promoted particular ideas. He also was politically active for progressive causes.

How might we know that these TV shows created cultural change? Just a few ways this could be established:

-How influential were these shows to later shows and cultural products? How did television shows look before and after Lear’s work?

-Ratings: how many people watched?

-Critical acclaim: what did critics think? What did his peers within the industry think? How do these shows stand up over time?

But, the question I might want to ask is whether we know how the people who watched these shows – millions of Americans – were or were not changed by these minutes and hours spent in front of the television. Americans take in a lot of television and media over their lifetime. This certainly has an influence in the aggregate. Do we have data and/or evidence that can link these shows to changed attitudes and actions? My sense is that is easier to see broad changes over time but harder to show more directly that specific media products led to particular outcomes at the individual (and sometimes also at the social) level.

These are research methodology questions that could involve lots of cultural products. The headline above might be supportable but it could require putting together multiple pieces of evidence and not having all the data we could have.

Do Christmas movies avoid McMansions?

What kinds of homes are featured in Christmas movies? One article suggests McMansions are rarely featured:

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Have you noticed that holiday movies are already streaming? And have you noticed the homes? They’re built for families who enjoy being together.

Rarely opulent “McMansions,” the homes featured in holiday family movies run the gamut from the family cabin in the woods to a stately family home that has been passed down through the generations.

The suggestion here is that the features of McMansions are not well-suited for these films. Here are some traits that might not work. Lots of square footage means family members are not around each other regularly. Unusual architectural features or interior designs do not look like traditional homes. A giant house on a small lot or looming over other homes does not appear friendly.

In contrast, a “good” home for a Christmas movie will be cozy, traditional in architecture and design, and present a particular appearance from the outside. The home might be tied to particular styles from the Victorian era through the mid-twentieth century when many Christian traditions and themes emerged in the Anglo-American sphere.

Given the way McMansions are treated in artistic endeavors, perhaps a McMansions could serve as the setting for a dystopian or black comedy Christmas film.