I’m Mad as Hell… But I Still Like to Watch
What Network and Being There taught me about the performance of authenticity
Howard Beale wasn’t wrong.
He just got better ratings when he lost his mind.
And Chance the gardener? He barely said a word—
But that silence made him a star.
Two men.
Two anti-heroes.
One shouted. One smiled.
And both were crowned prophets by a society hungry for meaning—any meaning—wrapped in the illusion of truth.
“I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!” — Network
“I like to watch.” — Being There
Put them side by side and what do you get?
A masterclass in media manipulation.
Howard Beale was a news anchor.
Chance was a gardener.
But once the camera started rolling, they became something bigger: projections.
The world didn’t care if what they were saying made sense.
It only cared if it felt real.
The Rise of the Anti-Message
Network (1976) was supposed to be satire.
Now it reads like a documentary.
Howard Beale goes off-script—calls out the system, the emptiness, the rage—and becomes a sensation.
At first, it’s raw. Real. A cry for help.
But the network sees an opportunity.
They rebrand his breakdown as The Howard Beale Show.
They give him a spotlight, a choir, a theme song.
And suddenly, rage is monetized.
Authenticity becomes performance.
Revolution becomes ratings.
And the system absorbs the outrage it was supposed to fear.
The Cult of Stillness
Then there's Being There (1979).
Chance is simple. Quiet. Naive.
He speaks in gardening metaphors because that’s all he knows.
But those around him hear wisdom.
They assign depth where there is none.
They mistake passivity for serenity.
Silence becomes a blank screen—and the powerful start projecting their own needs onto it.
By the end of the film, Chance is walking on water.
Not because he’s divine.
Because no one ever asked if he could swim.
So What Do We Do With This?
We live in a world where shouting gets you clicks,
and blankness gets you followers.
Where the loudest and the quietest both rise—
as long as they’re watchable.
And maybe that’s the point.
We don’t actually want the truth.
We want something that feels like truth.
Something that entertains, enrages, or reassures us.
Something that tells us what we already want to believe.
The System Doesn’t Want You Silent or Loud. It Wants You Marketable.
That’s the warning in both films.
Not that we’re being lied to.
But that we’ve chosen the lie.
Curated it. Celebrated it.
And built entire platforms around it.
Howard raged. Chance whispered.
And both were rewarded.
Because what matters isn’t the message.
It’s the medium.
And in the end, we’re not chasing meaning.
We’re chasing ratings.
If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention.
If you’re still watching, maybe you’re complicit.
If you’re both…
Welcome to the show.