Good Lord, man, you straight up Howard Zinn’ed this shiz. A simply excellent article top to bottom.
But you give Doyle’s own hysterical protestations a little too much credit. The simple truth is that his vanity overpowers everything else. In Doyle’s world, much like Trump’s, if you praise him, he will be your ally for life. Try to find a contrary word ever printed about Chris Haddock, or certain show-people from the great province of Newfoundland. He has penned defenses of some truly indefensible people just because they bent to kiss the ring.
When he turns on you, though, it’s epic. Anything you’re ever involved with again becomes scorched earth. The long enemies list he’s now nursing must make it impossible to do his job. Though he’s clearly entered a twilight phase of recycling columns and repeating himself ad nauseum, the one constant is articles precisely like the one that inspired your excellent column: a piece where the thesis is at war with his petty need to lash out and punish the armies of people who dare to challenge him.
I’ve been privy to some of those responses, not just to me but to others. And let me tell you brother, if you’re a woman questioning JD you are in for a special kind of condescension. It’s gross.
I won’t and can’t defend what I’m sure has been some bad form from “creatives” along the way — I don’t think whingeing over a legitimate tepid review is ever good form; you get to make it, they get to say what they think.
But I would take with a grain of salt his talk of fake accounts and threats on his life. Because the truth is there is no one with less insight into the creative part of this industry than Doyle, because he never engages. I’ve heard tell of panels where an Actor whose show he previously lambasted honestly wanted to discuss; why do you have such a profound hate-on for Canadian shows? Doyle’s response, apropos of nothing, “You’re bitter.” That’s it. “You’re bitter.”
Nobody is more bitter than John Doyle. He hates his job. He hates the people who make things. And he’s locked in at this point so much that when you challenge his assertion that nothing good ever gets made here ever, every example you can bring to bear is some sort of “illegal exception.” “Oh it’s genre, genre isn’t serious.” “That’s not Canadian really, people think of it as a British show.” And on. And on. And on.
There’s an old joke about “Irish Alzheimers” — where you live long enough to forget everything but your grudges. John Doyle is in the terminal stage.