Bewitched: jokes, magic, tv dreams & gender politics

(an extract from The Age of Fibs)

It’s 60 years since Bewitched first arrived on TV screens in the US and eventually landed in Australia, so here’s my memoir piece from The Age of Fibs, with both text and audio.

Bewitching

Six o’clock is the witching hour. Samantha,  flying in on her broomstick, burning the dinner, transforming into a black cat, leaping into What’s-His-Name’s arms.

I lie on the green carpet, transfixed by the television, pretending I can’t hear my mother as she calls and calls from the kitchen.

‘Girls! Come set the table for dinner.’

Who would believe that Sam, who can conjure anything at the twitch of her lovely nose would willingly trade wizardry for a kitchen whizz?

(This was the fantasy part.)

Ever-loyal helpmeet to Derwood as he casts his dreary capitalist spells, manipulating desire and peddling illusion. (No prizes for guessing who’s the real creative genius.)

So many contortions and tricks necessary to allow the man of the house to believe he’s the head.

The laugh track — hahahahaha.

But I didn’t miss the way Sam keeps coming down with mysterious ailments. Like that morning she finds the doors and windows all sealed against her. (Trapped in the house.)

Or the time everything she touches turns gold. (A gilt complex!)

And the day whenever she sneezes a bicycle or tricycle appears.

‘It’s totally logical,’ announces Doctor Bombay. ‘In fact, it’s cycle-logical!’

Dr Bombay twirls his moustache and diagnoses the problem: Sam has been suppressing her powers.

The solution: Simple. Start using them!

I curl on the Fler lounge biting my fingernails. Noticing how Sam flinches at Darrin’s anger, his constant criticism whenever anything goes a tiny bit wrong (Julius Caesar in the kitchen, for instance, instead of a Caesar Salad).

That hint of violence under the laugh track.

But what do you expect if you agree to give up your powers?

To the other witches Sam is a fallen woman, a drudge to a man.

Meanwhile, here’s Serena —Super fun gerroovay! Dark Lady to Sam’s Fair Maiden.

‘Fly me to the moon,’ croons one of Serena’s lovers, and next minute there he is up among the stars, bewildered.

Another one gets turned into a bedwarmer when she tires of him.

Everything so literal and full of puns — like dreams.

With Endora perched on the stairs, the mother-in-law of all jokes come home to roost.

For half an hour every weeknight I am part of a coven, exploring my Wiccan heritage. This quicksilver world where the galaxy is one’s backyard, and where men can be a part of it but the feminine rules supreme.

The feminine, the queer, the magical — the irruption of the repressed right here into my living room every night at six o’clock.

Busting open all the doors and all the windows. Letting in the stars.

*

Some of you will recognise this piece from The Age of Fibs. If you’d like a copy you can order direct from me and I’ll sign it to whoever you like.

For those overseas, please order it from any online bookstore (that way it gets posted to you locally - cheaper than me sending it from Australia).

It’s also available as an ebook at the usual online outlets, or ask for it in your bookshop or library…

Wishing you a magical end of year time,

and never underestimate the power of love and connection,

xxx Beth
ps you can find the bedwarmer incident if you search on Bewitched - Samantha visits Salem on youtube.