OPINION
This is the way the 1pm Covid news conferences end: not with any kind of farewell or haere rā or acknowledgement we have seen the last of the longest-running TV show of the Covid age, just the sight of Chris Hipkins leaving the stage and placing a pen in the inside pocket of his jacket. He clicked the end of it first to withdraw the nib so the ink wouldn't run. Safety first; safety last.
It was a long, strange trip, these 1pm shows. They were appointment viewing. It was a shame they didn't allow for advertising spots because the potential commercial benefits were enormous. "What we're fighting for is eyeballs," media mogul Kendall Roy says in Succession. "Eyeballs which we convert to our customer base, eyeballs which we crate up and sell to advertisers." The 1pm show had the eyeballs of a nation all over it.
There was something very ancient about it. They were a hear-ye, hear-ye, a proclamation in the village square to announce the progress of the plague. But there was another kind of old-fashionedness about the 1pm show: we watched it on TV. This wasn't Netflix, or Neon, or whatever streaming service you could watch at your leisure. You had to be there. It was live, you couldn't miss it.
It was beautifully crafted and yet extremely cheap. The props department went as far as a couple of lecterns and a New Zealand flag. It would have been frivolous to add a vase of flowers or something decorative; the plague, with its themes of life and death, demanded austere production values. It narrowed it down to basic Trumpian principles. Man. Woman. Camera. TV.