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 laconic celebrities sitting in a boat, failing to catch fish. That’s the essence of Fishing with John, a 1991 series that feels less like a TV show and more like a dare to the audience. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it defies every convention of television. In an era where shows are engineered to hook viewers with relentless pacing and high-stakes drama, Fishing with John is a middle finger to the medium. It’s not just anti-television; it’s anti-everything.
The Genius of Boredom
John Lurie, the creator and star, is a man who seems to thrive in the margins of culture. Personally, I think his decision to pair himself with equally enigmatic figures like Tom Waits and Willem Dafoe was a stroke of genius. These aren’t people you’d expect to see on a fishing trip, let alone on TV. What many people don’t realize is that the show’s awkward silences and halting conversations aren’t failures—they’re the point. Lurie isn’t trying to entertain; he’s trying to provoke. If you take a step back and think about it, the show is a commentary on the absurdity of celebrity culture. Here are these larger-than-life figures, reduced to fumbling amateurs in a boat. It’s hilarious, but it’s also deeply humanizing.
A Comedy That Doesn’t Try to Be Funny
Calling Fishing with John a comedy feels like a stretch, but it’s the closest label we have. In my opinion, the humor isn’t in the punchlines—it’s in the absurdity of the situation. Watching Lurie and Jim Jarmusch hold food over the water while one of them points a gun at it is so bizarre it loops back around to being brilliant. What this really suggests is that comedy doesn’t need jokes; it just needs truth. The truth here is that these men, despite their artistic credentials, are utterly clueless about fishing. And yet, there’s something oddly comforting in their incompetence.
The Cult of the Criterion Collection
One thing that immediately stands out is the show’s inclusion in the Criterion Collection. This isn’t just a random honor—it’s a stamp of approval from the arbiters of cinematic art. What this really implies is that Fishing with John isn’t just a TV show; it’s a cultural artifact. It’s a relic of a time when the art scene was wild, experimental, and unapologetically weird. From my perspective, this is why the show has endured. It’s not for everyone, but for those who get it, it’s a revelation.
The Legacy of Doing Nothing
The show’s 2021 spiritual successor, Painting with John, is a more polished affair, but it lacks the raw, unfiltered strangeness of the original. Personally, I think this is because Fishing with John was never meant to be accessible. It’s a show that demands something from its audience—patience, curiosity, and a willingness to embrace the void. This raises a deeper question: What if the most profound art is the kind that refuses to explain itself?
Why It Still Matters
In a world where every second of screen time is optimized for engagement, Fishing with John feels like a rebellion. It’s a reminder that television doesn’t have to be loud, fast, or flashy to be meaningful. What makes this show a masterpiece isn’t what it does—it’s what it doesn’t do. It doesn’t try to entertain, educate, or inspire. It just exists. And in its existence, it challenges us to rethink what we expect from art.
If you’ve never seen Fishing with John, I urge you to give it a chance. It’s not for the faint of heart, but for those willing to embrace its strangeness, it’s a revelation. As Lurie himself might say, sometimes the best way to catch something is to stop trying.
