Now coronavirus has cancelled culture, this is how reporters have worked around the social distancing bubble

All culture journalists can do, at least for now, is look back. Truthfully, however, that’s what we’re crying out for at the moment, writes Adam White

Cannes is the latest big event to be postponed (Getty)

There is an argument to be made that culture journalism is, and has been for a long while, fixated on the past. Retrospectives, nostalgia, “the fascinating drama behind the most popular album of 1986”. Because of the world’s current circumstances, however, it’s suddenly all there is.

In the grand scheme of things, the impact of the coronavirus pandemic on the production of culture content is minimal. The actual livelihoods of artists, freelancers and those working at or operating arts venues or live events companies are under infinitely greater threat than those of us lucky enough to be permanently employed and writing from home. But it’s undeniably strange.

The past week has seen effectively everything in the immediate pipeline postponed or cancelled. The films we were meant to be reporting on, the festivals we were due to review and provide coverage for, the publicity cycles we were gearing up to participate in. Press junkets, where an array of journalists are shepherded into hotel rooms for 20-or-so minutes of face-time with immaculately dressed stars, are now, if they happen at all, likely to be conducted on literal FaceTime. With everyone dressed in sweats.

It is unprecedented and deeply surreal. Even outside of feature stories and reviews, there isn’t much in the way of pop culture news, either. There’s the seemingly endless run of high-profile cancellations, or noteworthy quotes from interviews conducted weeks ago, but otherwise, it is largely a Covid-19 bubble we’re all stuck in. Everyone in the public eye is confined in their own homes, too, either staying quiet or being very loud about being entirely deranged.

All culture journalists can do, at least for now, is look back. Truthfully, however, that’s what we’re crying out for at the moment. There’s a sudden safety to exploring pop culture of the past, nostalgia serving as a kind of enveloping hug. Where once writing about Showgirls in 2020 would feel vaguely regressive, or a needless diversion from the here and now, it instead feels healthy and essential.

As writers for a national newspaper, and otherwise endlessly bombarded with the latest up-to-the-minute information about an ever-developing crisis, there’s a personal joy to it, too. For a few hours, you’re able to explore the weird specifics of a moment in time two or three decades ago. You’re able to immerse yourself in history, instead of fruitlessly refreshing your Twitter feed, soaking in the pain of how bad it’s got.

In a moment of tremendous fear and uncertainty, with millions of people anxious over their circumstances under disturbingly opaque leadership, culture journalism fills a gap and serves as a distraction. That’s what we’re telling ourselves to get through it, anyway.

Yours,

Adam White

Culture reporter