The Art of Doing Nothing: Why 'Fishing with John' is a Masterpiece of Anti-Television
There’s something profoundly unsettling about a show where nothing happens. I mean, nothing. No plot twists, no dramatic arcs, no climactic moments. Just a bunch of famous people sitting around, failing to fish. That’s the essence of Fishing with John, a 1991 series that feels like a middle finger to conventional television. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it defies every expectation we have of what TV should be. It’s not just a show; it’s a statement—a quiet, laconic rebellion against the medium itself.
The Setup: A Comedy of Incompetence
John Lurie, the artist and musician behind the series, invites celebrity friends like Tom Waits, Jim Jarmusch, and Willem Dafoe to go fishing. The catch? None of them know how to fish. Personally, I think this is where the genius lies. It’s not about the fishing; it’s about the absurdity of the situation. These are people at the peak of their creative careers, and yet they’re reduced to bumbling amateurs. One thing that immediately stands out is how this setup strips away their celebrity personas, leaving us with raw, unfiltered humanity. It’s awkward, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s utterly captivating.
The Conversations: A Masterclass in Not Talking
Here’s where things get really interesting. Lurie and his guests don’t exactly have sparkling repartee. Their conversations are halting, directionless, and often downright bizarre. From my perspective, this is the show’s greatest strength. It challenges the idea that TV needs to be constantly engaging or entertaining. Instead, it invites us to sit with the silence, to embrace the awkward pauses. What many people don’t realize is that these moments of stillness are where the magic happens. It’s in the gaps between words that we find the show’s true depth.
Anti-Television: A Confrontation with the Medium
If you take a step back and think about it, Fishing with John is the ultimate anti-television show. It’s a direct challenge to Marshall McLuhan’s concept of TV as a “cool” medium that requires active participation. This show is arctic—it demands nothing from you but your presence. What this really suggests is that television doesn’t always need to be about gripping narratives or high-stakes drama. Sometimes, it can just be about being.
The Cult Following: Why It Still Matters
The fact that Fishing with John was released on the Criterion Collection—a hallowed space for cinematic masterpieces—speaks volumes. It’s a show that has found its audience, albeit a niche one. In my opinion, its cult status is a testament to its uniqueness. It’s not for everyone, and that’s precisely the point. It’s a relic of the ’90s art scene, a time when experimentation was king and boundaries were meant to be pushed.
The Legacy: From Fishing to Painting
Lurie’s later series, Painting with John, feels like a spiritual successor. While it’s more structured, it retains the same sense of intimacy and quiet reflection. A detail that I find especially interesting is how both shows are essentially about Lurie’s process—whether it’s fishing, painting, or just existing. They’re not about teaching or entertaining; they’re about being present.
Final Thoughts: The Beauty of Nothingness
Fishing with John is a show that dares to ask: What if TV didn’t have to be anything at all? It’s bizarre, it’s hypnotic, and it’s utterly unforgettable. Personally, I think it’s one of the most important television experiments ever made. It reminds us that sometimes, the most profound art comes from doing nothing at all. If you’ve never seen it, I urge you to give it a chance. Just don’t expect to learn how to fish.
This raises a deeper question: What if the future of television lies in embracing the mundane, the awkward, and the uneventful? Maybe, just maybe, that’s where we’ll find the next great masterpiece.
