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Blog Post – Week 12

“Can reality tv still be thought of as a genre given the high level of hybridity that exists?”

Reality TV is a unique genre due to the open-ended and wide reach of its definition. Kavka (2012) says reality TV has a “generic haziness” due to its format hybridity and the changing nature and quantity of its programs (p. 2). In other words, reality TV is difficult to define because it crosses genres and styles and so an exact definition is hard to pinpoint. Despite this, reality TV is widely understood as a genre, but should be considered a discourse in that it goes beyond a genre’s limited definition.

Despite its multiple definitions, the nature of reality TV is still understood by consumers of media, who can use the term and be fully confident that people will understand them (Kavka, 2012). However, there is also confusion as to what constitutes reality TV as a genre because of its hybridity (Kavka, 2012). Hybridization is when styles that usually separate fact and fiction are mixed (Wood, 2004), or when parts of other television genres are combined to make reality TV (Kavka, 2012). There are four modes that categorize television – fact, fiction, entertainment and advertising – each of which construct reality in their own way (Wood, 2004). Reality TV can mix all these modes to form a show. For example, the reality TV show competition Ru Paul’s Drag Race mixes fact, fiction, entertainment and advertising into one show. It features real competitors within a constructed and edited storyline, each episode provides entertainment in the form of singing, dancing or acting challenges, and there is an abundance of advertising for products the competitors use during their challenges (Collins, 2017).

Within these four modes of television there are also what Wood (2004) describes as “characteristic hinges” which are the four modes crossing over each other (p. 49). The characteristic hinges are reenactment, diversion, absorption and infomercial (Wood, 2004). Reenactments are “dramas and films ‘based upon’ people and events” where fictional techniques are used to construct its content and reflects an historical world (Wood, 2004, p. 49). Diversion is when people are performing as themselves, such as ‘making of’ programs about film or television, or home video compilations where unusual events are depicted in everyday situations (Wood, 2004). Absorption is when extreme situations are depicted through reconstructions and verité footage and combine factual reference with fictional techniques to heighten the drama (Wood, 2004). Examples of absorption include reality TV shows on law enforcement and/or medical and emergency services (Wood, 2004). Lastly, infomercials are advertising commercials that last the same length as programs and use demonstrations and testimonials to sell a product or service (Wood, 2004). These characteristic hinges all involve the blending and intersecting of fact, fiction, entertainment and advertising and are all used in reality TV (Wood, 2004). This cross-pollination of modes and hinges shows how difficult it is to limit reality TV to a genre.

According to Kavka (2012), ‘genre’ is when texts are grouped together based on their shared characteristics. Reality TV is too differential to fit within this limited definition, as many programs which fall underneath the umbrella term ‘reality TV’ have completely different characteristics (Kavka, 2012). Because reality TV mixes generic forms, it fails to fit the basic criteria of a genre while simultaneously is the definitive genre of an essentially adaptive medium (Kavka, 2012). In other words, reality TV is so multifaceted it doesn’t fit the definition of a genre, while at the same time is the perfect example of what a genre looks like within an ever-changing media landscape. In fact, television genres are ultimately cultural constructions in that they are defined by society and emerge through interpretation and evaluation (Kavka, 2012). We should therefore look beyond reality TV simply being a genre with a shared set of attributes, as it is constantly adapting its format, borrowing material, and moving on to something else (Kavka, 2012).

Blitvich and Lorenzo-Dus (2013) argue that reality TV should be looked at as a discourse rather than a genre in order to be properly understood. A discourse is a system of communication that is shared by specific communities, and features characteristics such as shared language or jargon, the knowledge of how to become a member of that discourse, a specific ideology, and interpersonal relationships among members (Scollon & Scollon, 2001, as cited in Blitvich & Lorenzo-Duz, 2013). Reality TV fits within this definition. For example, if looking at the participants of a reality TV show, they become members and are socialized into the discourse through exposure to reality TV shows, and the selection/audition process before they are filmed (Blitvich & Lorenzo-Duz, 2013). Reality TV also has a broad ideology that is egalitarian and democratic as audiences can often participate in decisions made in the show, e.g. voting for their favorite competitor in Idol (Blitvich & Lorenzo-Duz, 2013). Interpersonal relationships are also apparent as audiences get an ‘intimate’ look into the lives of participants and so form a relationship with them (Blitvich & Lorenzo-Duz, 2013).

In conclusion, due to its multifaceted definitions and the high level of hybridity that exists within it, reality TV should not be considered a genre, but rather a discourse. This helps to define its broad characteristics and style that are ever-changing in its media landscape.

References

Blitvich, P. G. C., & Lorenzo-Dus, N. (2013). Reality television: a discourse-analytical perspective. In N. Lorenzo-Dus & P.G.C. Blitvich (Eds.), Real talk: Reality television and discourse analysis in action (pp. 9-24). Palgrave Macmillan UK.

Collins, C. G. (2017). Drag race to the bottom?: Updated notes on the aesthetic and political economy of RuPaul’s Drag Race. Transgender Studies Quarterly, 4(1), 128–134. https://doi.org/10.1215/23289252-3711589

Kavka, M. (2012). Reality TV. Edinburgh University Press.

Wood, B. (2004). A world in retreat: The reconfiguration of hybridity in 20th-Century New Zealand television. Media Culture Society, 26(45), 45-62. https://doi.org/10.1177/0163443704039709

Week 11 Post

How real is reality TV?

Reality TV is a broad category featuring several types of popular factual programming (Hill, 2005). They share similar styles and techniques such as non-professional actors, unscripted dialogue, surveillance footage, hand-held cameras, and real-time events unfolding in front of the camera (Hill, 2005). These techniques often distinguish reality TV or factual programming from other forms of television. According to Hill (2005), how reality is treated in reality TV has changed as the genre has developed. The influence of documentary on reality TV, audience perception of what is real, and reality TV’s exploitative nature can help us understand the perceived ‘reality’ behind the genre.

In the UK, television channels categorize reality TV closer to documentary, current affairs and investigative journalism (Hill, 2005). This is unsurprising given the documentary genre’s influence on reality TV. Direct Cinema and cinema verité have influenced British television documentary such as fly-on-the-wall and docusoaps, as well as reality TV (Berissi & Nunn, 2005). They are characterized by discrete observational filming without trying to analyze the situation, expecting audiences to assess the facts presented to them and come up with their own conclusions (Biressi & Nunn, 2005). The editing in these documentaries are used to convey a sense of time passing, and they avoid commentary, self-reflexivity, and extra-diegetic music in order to represent a truly accurate account of their subject matter (Biressi & Nunn, 2005). However, it’s important to note that even though these documentary styles and their influence on reality TV is to convey what’s real, this does not always mean it is unconstructed, natural or unmediated (Biressi & Nunn, 2005). While the people depicted may be ‘real’, they are put in dramatized situations (Biressi & Nunn, 2005). Roscoe and Hight (2001) argue that documentary cannot claim to be an unmediated mirror on society as it is still a fictional text with a point of view used to construct a version of the world. Therefore, despite some reality TV’s attempts to convey reality using non-obtrusive techniques and without trying to influence the audience, the very nature of the genre means audiences are viewing reality through a certain perspective.

Part of what makes the ‘realness’ of reality TV difficult to define is audience perception. According to Hill (2005), an important feature of reality TV is the ‘see it happen’ style of filming, and audiences classify programs based on how real they perceive it to be. Audiences use a fact or fiction continuum to determine how real the show they are watching is (Hill, 2005). For example, in Hill’s 2005 study, one commentator believed the show Children’s Hospital to be factual as he was able to see what was happening as it played out. He compared this with the show 999 where reconstructions are used, arguing that the latter show was deceiving and not real as it used ‘made up’ elements to tell a story (Hill, 2005). Similarly, another responder said that the show Big Brother was not as real as hospital programs because the contestants knew they were being filmed and everything they did was constructed for the cameras (Hill, 2005). Even though all programs mentioned are forms of reality TV, audience perception of the performance of non-professional actors and the modes of storytelling used are crucial in their classification of what is real or not (Hill, 2005). Kilborn (1994) argues that audiences are much more aware that what they view on TV is a constructed reality, and feel manipulated when there is an obvious distortion of facts.

The ‘reality’ presented in reality TV is further complicated when looking at its exploitative nature. Real events are exploited for their entertainment potential causing them to lose their authenticity (Kilborn, 1994). Television programs need to be light and easily digestible in order to bring back viewers, while producers will distort the reality they claim to be representing in order to create maximum dramatic appeal (Kilborn, 1994). For example, the reality show 999 is about the work of Britain’s emergency services and uses reenactments to tell stories (Kilborn, 1994). While the show tries to produce faithful reenactments, the dramatic elements behind them distort their factuality (Kilborn, 1994). The reenactments are dramatic and tense and more in line with the narrative storytelling of fictional drama (Kilborn, 1994). Fast editing and moody music are also employed – all purposefully used to heighten the sense of drama (Kilborn, 1994). The two docudramas Cathy Comes Home and Benefits Street also highlight the differences in how reality can be exploited. For example, the use of voiceover is critical in conveying inferences or perspectives. In Benefits Street the voiceover comes from narrator Tony Hirst and is not a dispassionate ‘Voice of God’ but rather an emotive voice that uses colloquial and judgmental language, and avoids using statistics (Lamb, 2016). This is compared to the distanced and neutral narration in Cathy Comes Home which also provides statistical context (Lamb, 2016). Hirst’s narration scrutinizes the subject’s decisions and behaviors and therefore influences the audience’s point of view, whereas Cathy Comes Home allows audiences to make their own decisions about the subject matter presented to them (Lamb, 2016).

Reality TV attempts to bring a slice of life onto television screens for audiences to see ‘real’ people represented. However, the reality presented is often distorted through filming and narrative techniques. Nevertheless, the question of how ‘real’ reality TV is depends on an audience’s perception of its authenticity.

References

Biressi, A., & Nunn, H. (2005). Reality TV: Realism and revelation. Wallflower.

Hill, A. (2005). Reality TV: Audiences and popular factual television. Routledge.

Kilborn, R. (1994). ‘How real can you get?’: Recent developments in ‘reality’ television. European Journal of Communication, 9(4), 421-439. https://doi.org/10.1177/0267323194009004003

Lamb, B. (2016). Cathy Come Off Benefits: A comparative ideological analysis of Cathy Come Home and Benefits Street. Journalism and Discourse Studies, (2).

Roscoe, J., & Hight, C. (2001). Faking it: Mock-documentary and the subversion of factuality. Manchester University Press; Palgrave.

Week 10 Blog Post

On what grounds does Mountfort (2018) dispute Williams’ (1990) view that the I Ching does not figure in the novel aside from a few oracle consultations?

The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick is an alternate history novel presenting a world where Germany and Japan have won World War Two. Featuring throughout the novel is the I Ching or Book of Changes – a Chinese oracle or divination text that help the characters determine their next course of action. Mountfort (2016) disputes the view of Williams (1990) that the I Ching does not figure in the novel aside from a few oracle consultations, arguing that the I Ching is a central plot device that underlies the novel’s construction and philosophy.

Philip K. Dick consulted the I Ching to help him write and develop The Man in the High Castle (MHC) (Mountfort, 2016). He posed questions to the oracle during crucial junctures of his writing, such as what would happen to his characters, how they should behave, and how the plot should move forward. Mountfort (2016) describes this as a metafictional discussion between the author and the protagonists and therefore the reader and the text. This is because Dick’s use of the oracle as a deciding factor for his next move as a writer mirrors his characters’ use of the oracle to decide how they will proceed in their lives.

Williams’ view of the I Ching in relation to MHC is that the novel’s plot does not come from I Ching readings directly, and that it only participates in the novel when the characters are consulting it (Williams, 1990). In other words, Williams’ view is that the I Ching is a feature of the plot rather than a driving force of the philosophy behind it. Mountfort (2016) disputes this view and argues that the I Ching underpins the entire fabric of the novel.

For example, the I Ching provides the philosophical foundation of the novel, particularly the concept of synchronicity (Mountfort, 2016). This is described as events being meaningful coincidences where they have no causal relationship but are still purposefully related (Tarnas, 2006). Synchronic philosophy is evident in each major character using the I Ching to guide their next course of action. Mountfort (2016) argues that there are twelve instances of oracular consultations that take place in the novel, each revealing patterns that mirror each other. For example, four of the twelve consultations involve characters Frank Frink and Mr. Tagomi consulting the oracle twice and in a similar pattern (Mountfort, 2016). Their first question (respectively) is about meeting someone and how to go about a delicate interpersonal situation, in Frink’s case with his boss Wyndham Matson, and in Tagomi’s case with obtaining a gift for an important visitor from Robert Childan (Mountfort, 2016). The answers to their second questions are both concerned with the inner nature of a person rather than what they outwardly appear to be, in Frink’s case his ex-wife and in Tagomi’s case his business contact (Mountfort, 2016). What’s significant about this is that Frink and Tagomi’s paths intersect towards the end of the novel, without either character having met each other (Mountfort, 2016). Tagomi ultimately saves Frink from being surrendered to the Nazis, thereby intimately connecting the two characters while they each have no idea of the impact they’ve had on each other’s lives (Lison, 2014). This is integral to the philosophy of the I Ching as the two characters are meaningfully connected as their fates interlock together (Mountfort, 2016).

Lison (2014) argues that Frink and Tagomi’s storyline is predicted by the I Ching. This is because when Frink consults the oracle as to whether or not his jewelry business will succeed, he receives a mixed reply where it says the business will bring good fortune, but also warns of a future catastrophe unconnected to the jewelry business (Lison, 2014). This refers to the destruction of Japan due to Operation Dandelion, which Frink is unaware of. Lison (2014) argues that the oracle passes favorable judgement on Frink’s business while simultaneously indicating that it is dwarfed by a larger concern. They argue that this mirrors the narrative structure of the novel, in which small moments of favor, such as Mr. Tagomi’s act of kindness to Frink, are dwarfed by the larger concern of the characters’ reality not being real, as revealed at the end of the book (Lison, 2014).

Another way that the I Ching is central to the construction of the novel is how it presents alternate worlds. MHC presents us with three alternate worlds – the world the novel is set in, the world presented in the novel within the novel (The Grasshopper Lies Heavy), and the world of the reader (Mountfort, 2016). This many-worlds interpretation ties in with the I Ching as they are both based on the element of chance, suggesting that alternative possibilities in different realities always exist (Mountfort, 2016). The fate of each character is decided by a text in which multiple scenarios are possible. Again, this is mirrored by the multiple universes within the novel. Even the ambiguous ending of the novel emphasizes how there is not one reality in which the novel should end, but rather multiple possibilities as determined by the aleatory nature of the I Ching (Mountfort, 2016).

References

Lison, A. (2014). “The very idea of place”: Form, contingency, and Adornian volition in The Man in the High Castle. Science Fiction Studies, 41(1), 45-68.

Mountfort, P. (2016). The I Ching and Philip K. Dick’s The Man in the High Castle. Science Fiction Studies, 43(2), 287-309. https://doi:10.5621/sciefictstud.43.2.0287

Tarnas, R. (2006). Cosmos and psyche. Plume.

Williams, P. (1990, December). The author and the oracle. PKDS Newsletter, (25), 1-10.

Week 9 Blog Post

In what ways can cosphotography be understood as a form of “fan capital”?

Photography is an important part of modern cosplay in that it reflects and shapes how cosplay is performed (Mountfort et al, 2018). Cosphotography can be looked at as a form of fan capital as it is a permanent media that promotes and documents cosplayers, it is a two-way exchange, and it legitimizes or validates the cosplayer’s labor.

According to Mountfort et al (2018), photography and video can provide cosplayers with both private value and fan capital to distribute within the wider cosplay community. Cosplays accumulate “subcultural capital or a quality of hipness” every time they are photographed by their peers (Hale, 2014, p. 9). These photographs are then circulated on social media or online platforms such as Deviantart, Instagram, Tumblr and dedicated cosplay websites (Mountfort et al, 2018). This allows cosphotography to be consumed and recirculated by others, generating interest in the cosplayer’s costumes and performances (Hale, 2014).

Cosplay performance is typically short-lived as the costume is only worn by the cosplayer for one day at a time, so cosphotography can help make the performance longer lasting as it is a permanent form (Mountfort et al, 2018). This serves as a personal token to the cosplayer of their labor, but also as a way to promote their work and document it (Mountfort et al, 2018). For example, Cosplay Music Videos (CMVs) uploaded onto YouTube can serve as promotional material to the cosplayers featured, a documentary of their work, and can even help them profit from it. The MCM London Comic Con has a CMV supercut on YouTube featuring cosplayers at the convention over the years. While their video is mostly a fundraiser for the Equal Justice Initiative, in their video description they include a list of all the cosplayers featured, as well as the social media channels and Patreon for the hosts of the video, The 86th Floor (The 86th Floor: Cosplay and Cons, 2020). This is one example of cosphotography being used as a form of capital to help promote the cosplayers, increase their influence and spread, and even profit from it.

Cosphotograhy can also be considered a form of fan capital in that it’s a two-way exchange between the cosplayer and photographer. The fashion photography and impromptu photo shoots provide the photographer with a subject, and the cosplayers with important acknowledgement and something tangible to take away, in what is a reciprocal relationship (Mountfort et al, 2018). According to Lamerichs (2011), the photographer can use the photo session as a way of developing their photography skills further while obtaining a shot of a character they love, while the cosplayer sees getting their picture taken as a compliment and acknowledgement of their hard work. They also often receive print outs or copies of their photo (Mountfort et al, 2018). This is particularly important as cosplayers are not just clotheshorses for a particular collection, but are showcasing what they themselves have made (Mountfort et al, 2018). This is also why selfies are not common at cosplay conventions, as cosplayers hope to have their picture taken by others to provide them with a form of tribute or payment, or to have their images circulated through online platforms (Mountfort et al, 2018).

Cosphotography also legitimizes and validates a cosplayer’s labor. Scott (2015) argues that compared to other forms of fan production, such as fanfic, cosplay is expensive to make. But the cost of fabrics, materials and makeup, as well as the tactile nature of the finished product, allows cosplay to be seen as a legitimate form of labor (Scott, 2015). In their study of cosplayers, Taylor (2009) found that cosplay is often devalued by society as it is not seen as productive work. It is viewed as an unproductive hobby in which fans devote time and money on products that are worthless (Taylor, 2009). This shows a divide in the time and labor cosplayers put into their work and the worth it is given by society. Cosphotography legitimizes the amount of work that is put into cosplay as it validates the cosplayer by acknowledging their labor. For example, a study by Ramirez (2017) found that their participants saw the recognition they received from a fan asking for their photo as a form of cultural capital. The less attention and recognition they received from fans, the less likely the cosplayers were to build identity, social and cultural capital, and social cohesion (Rameriz, 2017).

While there are questions around the sometimes-exploitative nature surrounding cosphotography, as well as who owns the product, cosphotography enables fans to go from passive consumers into active producers of culture (Mountfort et al, 2018).

References

Hale, M. (2014). Cosplay: Intertextuality, public texts, and the body fantastic. Western Folklore, 73(1), 5-37.

Lamerichs, N. (2011). Stranger than fiction: Fan identity in cosplay. Transformative Works and Cultures, 7(3), 56-72. https://doi:10.3983/twc.2011.0246  

Mountfort, P., Peirson-Smith, A., & Geczy, A. (2018). Planet cosplay: Costume play, identity and global fandom. Intellect.

Ramirez, M. A. (2017). From the panels to the margins: Identity, marginalization, and subversion in cosplay [Master’s thesis, University of South Florida]. Scholar Commons. https://scholarcommons.usf.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=7946&context=etd

Scott, S. (2015). “Cosplay is serious business”: Gendering material fan labor on Heroes of Cosplay. Cinema Journal 54(3), 146-154.

Taylor, J. R. (2009). Convention cosplay: Subversive potential in anime fandom [Master’s thesis, The University of British Columbia]. The University of British Columbia Library. https://open.library.ubc.ca/cIRcle/collections/ubctheses/24/items/1.0067114

The 86th Floor: Cosplay and Cons. (2020, June 12). MCM London Comic Con 2020 – COSPLAY MUSIC VIDEO SUPERCUT [Video]. You Tube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KJuZez817o&ab_channel=The86thFloor%3ACosplayandCons

Week 8 Blog Post

Referring to Mountfort et al. (2018), in what ways is cosplay analogous to citation

Cosplay is a portmanteau of the words ‘costume’ and ‘play’, but can also be looked at as a combination of the words ‘costume’ and ‘role-play’ (Crawford & Hancock, 2018). Cosplay involves fans wearing costumes and performing as characters from popular shows, movies, comic books, video games or any other type of mainstream media (Mountfort et al, 2018). According to Dictionary.com, a citation is “the act of citing or quoting a reference to an authority or a precedent.” In this instance, cosplay is analogous to citation in that it references its source material, as people who take part in cosplay use their bodies, costumes and the physical space they are in to reference another text (Mountfort et al, 2018). Cosplay also goes further than just referencing its source material, as many cosplayers edit the original source to make it fit their own unique identity, in a process of disruptive citation (Mountfort et al, 2018).

Just as we would reference an academic to build an argument in an essay, cosplay is comparative to citation in that the act of dressing up as a character from a specific text is a form of referencing it. This can be done through costumes and props, such as a cosplayer wielding a dagger to show they are San from Princess Mononoke, or combining a rope with the star-spangled one-piece to embody Wonder Woman (Mountfort et al, 2018). It can also be done through how the cosplayer acts or performs their chosen character while at a convention or out in public (Mountfort et al, 2018). The cosplayer’s body becomes a text that references another text, and they use not just costume but pose and gesture to achieve this (Mountfort et al, 2018). Lamerichs (2011) argues that cosplay drives fans to closely examine and interpret existing texts, perform them via costumes and/or skits, and extend them with their own stories and ideas.

In their study of cosplay, Crawford and Hancock (2018) found that cosplayers stayed in the characters they were portraying as much as possible. This went beyond simply wearing the costume; they acted out scenes of dialogue from the source text, or even created new dialogue in-character, trying to act in the way that they perceived their character would act (Crawford & Hancock, 2018). For example, one participant of the study said that he felt duty-bound to maintain his character in public, especially when children were involved. He said, “They don’t know you are just a lad from Manchester. To them you are actually a stormtrooper. So you might as well act like one and uphold the dream. So if a kid comes up to you and goes, ‘Hey! Scoutrooper how are you doing?’ [Adopts American accent], ‘I’m doing alright sir’. I play up to it and stay in character for as long as possible” (Crawford & Hancock, 2018, p. 315). In this example, the cosplayer is using cosplay as a form of citation to reference Star Wars. The child in question understands the reference because the costume, mannerisms and accent are all directly referencing or citing a stormtrooper.

Cosplay is also comparable to citation in that, unlike other forms of costume or performance, cosplay is heavily reliant on its source material (Mountfort et al, 2018). Other fashion subcultures or forms of dressing up, such as steampunk or Lolita, are not wholly reliant on a specific text to reference in the same way cosplay is (Mountfort et al, 2018). For example, a cosplayer embodying the Joker would have several iterations of the character in which they could reference. A cosplayer dressed as Jack Nicolson’s Joker would look, sound and act completely different from someone channeling Heath Ledger’s version (WatchMojo.com, 2014). The cosplayer researches and studies the cited text in order to reference it fully with their costume and performance (Mountfort et al, 2018). This in turn leads the audience to take a mental leap into the world of the cited character (Mountfort et al, 2018).

Cosplay also goes further than simply citing its source material. Cosplayers often have their own interpretations of a character, and edit or co-create their costumes as a form of disruptive citation (Mountfort et al, 2018). Jenkins (1992) suggests that media fans create new interpretations and narratives that go against the dominant mainstream media. What is defined by the source text, such as gender or race, is often critiqued, negotiated and explored by cosplayers to fit their own identity (Mountfort et al, 2018). Gender-bending cosplay is becoming increasingly popular as we see more people cosplaying a character that is different from their gender, such as a woman cosplaying Batman or a man cosplaying Misty from Pokemon. There is a lot of creativity that goes into the construction of a gender-bent costume, and designers mend the outfit to cite the source material in a new way that will fit their gender (Winens, 2018).

To conclude, cosplayers use their bodies as a text to reference another text from popular media, making it comparable to citation or referencing.

References

Crawford, G., & Hancock, D. (2018). Urban poachers: Cosplay, playful cultures and the appropriation of urban space. The Journal of Fandom Studies, 6(3), 301-318. https://doi-org.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/10.1386/jfs.6.3.301_1

Jenkins, H. (1992), Textual Poachers. Routledge.

Lamerichs, N. (2011). Stranger than fiction: Fan identity in cosplay. Transformative Works and Cultures, 7(3), 56-72. https://doi:10.3983/twc.2011.0246

Mountfort, P., Peirson-Smith, A., & Geczy, A. (2018). Planet cosplay: Costume play, identity and global fandom. Intellect.

WatchMojo.com. (2014, March 16). Heath Ledger vs. Jack Nicholson as The Joker [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nz8AXNi4wnI&t=250s&ab_channel=WatchMojo.com

Winens, E. M. (2018, May 1). With gender-bending, cosplay adds another layer of creativity. Study Breaks. https://studybreaks.com/tvfilm/gender-bending-cosplay-creativity/

Week 7

Both Hendrix (2018) and King (2010) take us through the horror history of the 60s 70s and 80s. Using references, explain this process in your own words, then think about the current trends of horror movies in your lifetime. What kinds of social or political changes in the world during these times do you think can be reflected in the horror you’ve read/watched/heard from that particular era?

Horror is a unique genre that never seems to go out of fashion. While its popularity may ebb and flow, throughout the last sixty years there’s been a consistency in the genre, and each decade horror has reflected the societal and political atmosphere of the time. According to Prince (2004), audiences never tire of horror because they’ll never stop being frightened about the society they live in. Hendrix (2017, page 9) agrees, saying, “more than any other genre, horror is a product of its time,” meaning the social and political changes within society largely influence the types of horror produced.

The 1960s was a decade defined by its interest in satanism, the occult and astrology (Hendrix, 2017). During the late 60s and early 70s, horror was forever changed with the introduction of three books – Rosemary’s Baby, The Other and The Exorcist (Hendrix, 2017). Every paperback now needed Satan on the cover, and it needed to be compared to these three books in order to sell (Hendrix, 2017).

As the 60s and 70s progressed, the sociological conflict of changing gender roles and the family institute saw a rise in demon or killer child horror (Prince, 2004). The contraceptive pill was invented in 1960, IUDs were introduced in 1968, abortion was legalized in 1973, and the first successful IVF occurred in 1978 (Hendrix, 2017). The changing rules around reproduction and the massive advancements in contraception and fertility saw an emergence of fear in pregnancy and childbirth (Hendrix, 2017). Horrors such as The Omen and The Exorcist reflected these fears, and many books and films revolved around vulnerable women during pregnancy and labor, hospitals experimenting on human fetuses, and doctors warning people about ‘playing God’. The message implied that women should have babies the way nature intended rather than experimenting with scientific advancements (Hendrix, 2017).

The 70s also saw a rise in animal and nature horrors, such as Jaws and The Fog. This was due to several environmental catastrophes that saw a slew of protective laws being passed in the United States, as well as the foundation of Greenpeace (Hendrix, 2017). While it was established that nature needed to be protected from humans, the horror from this time asked who would protect humans from nature (Hendrix, 2017). The 70s were also defined by high inflation, unemployment, the oil crisis, recession, school desegregation and high crime, and horror answered with the haunted house story reaching critical mass (Hendrix, 2017). These stories spoke to people and addressed their anxieties around class, mortage and equity (Hendrix, 2017). Plus, there was nothing more terrifying to a family who had barely scraped enough money for a house for it to end up being haunted (Hendrix, 2017). The civil unrest, riots and increase in crime during this time period also saw approximately six million Americans leave the cities for the countryside. This saw the rise of folk horror such as The Wicker Man, as well as many stories involving America’s rural communities being built on cursed land (Hendrix, 2017).

By the 1980s, a new type of horror in society emerged. The HIV/AIDs epidemic in 1981 heightened fears around human contact and the poisoning of bodily fluid, and from this came Anne Rice’s vampire novels (Hendrix, 2017). Vampires tuned into the fears of swapping blood, but they also humanized the idea of the other and symbolized our attitudes towards outsiders and the AIDs epidemic (Hendrix, 2017). By the mid-1980s the Satanic Panic was in its crux, and in 1985 the Parents Music Resource Center issued their ‘Filthy 15’ blacklist of metal bands they felt were encouraging satanism (Hendrix, 2017). Horror answered with the rise in splatterpunk, offering excessive gore and juvenile nihilism that went hand in hand with metal music as they both rebelled against the conservative authority of the day (Hendrix, 2017).

In terms of horror from my own lifetime, I think there is a definite continuation of films and books reflecting the social and political climate. For example, Get Out (2017) explores the issues of benevolent and casual racism, and exposes just how truly horrifying that racism is (Wilkinson, 2017). Protests against police brutality and systematic racism have been extensive within the last few years, most notably the Black Lives Matter movement, and films such as Get Out explore one of the very real fears of living as a Black person in America, that of being objectified or colonized by another consciousness (Wilkinson, 2017). Duchaney (2015) argues that modern horror filmmakers are exploring the psychological, and instead of preying on people’s anxieties of what could happen, they focus on an already established real-world fear. Get Out does this by showing us the very real fear of racism, and exposes just how prevalent it is in our society and what its horrifying consequences are.

References

Duchaney, B. (2015). The spark of fear: Technology, society and the horror film. McFarland & Company, Incorporated Publishers.

Hendrix, G. (2017). Paperbacks from hell: The twisted history of ‘70s and ‘80s horror fiction. Quirk Books.

Prince, S. (2004). Introduction: The dark genre and its paradoxes. In Prince, S. (Eds.), The horror film (pp. 1-15). Rutgers University Press.

Wilkinson, A. (2017, February 25). Get Out is a horror film about benevolent racism. It’s spine-chilling. Vox. https://www.vox.com/culture/2017/2/24/14698632/get-out-review-jordan-peele

Week 6

What is the philosophy of cosmicism and how is it used to convey a sense of dread in The Colour out of Space?

According to Stableford (2007), Lovecraftian horror is essentially horror that comes from knowledge too great and incomprehensible to bear, and deals with the unchartered aspects of space rather than the mundane human world and the pedestrian evil humans are capable of. Ralickas (2008, page 364) describes cosmic horror as the “fear and awe we feel when confronted by phenomena beyond our comprehension, whose scope extends beyond the narrow field of human affairs and boasts of cosmic significance.”

The two main philosophies of cosmicism that are used to convey a sense of dread, or fear and anticipation, in The Colour out of Space are how the horror within the story is largely unknown and abstract, and how little we really understand about the cosmos and our own insignificance in it.

One of the ways that cosmicism is used to convey a sense of dread in The Colour out of Space is through its unknown horror. The horror within cosmicism isn’t necessarily seen, but its presence is felt, and its abstract nature and difficulty in describing its horror makes it that much more terrifying (Stableford, 2007). In the short story, the reader is never told exactly what the evil force is. All we know is that a meteor crashes into the Gardner’s property, after which some sort of blight effects the surrounding soil, poisoning the vegetables, animals, trees and eventually everything around it, turning it into dust. Eventually the whole family is driven to madness and subsequently perish. The Colour out of Space leans heavily on the limited amount of information about the cosmic entity to make it appear more incomprehensible and dangerous to the human protagonists (Slåtten, 2016). Throughout the story we are never told if the meteor brought a single or group of alien entities, the physical characteristics of the alien, or whether it is sentient and came to earth with any purpose (Slåtten, 2016). In the 2019 film adaptation, while we do see the physical form of the alien entity, or the ‘Colour’, it is still portrayed as an obscure threat that we cannot touch. For example, Nathan Gardner is able to shoot and kill the monster his wife and son have turned into, however, the Colour is still present and able to wreak its havoc. The unknown and untouchable nature of the Colour is hugely effective in conveying dread, as it allows the imagination to take over. The creations of our own imagination are often far more horrifying than what we see with our own eyes, and so the fact that the Colour is so obscure makes it even more terrifying (Halldórsson, 2010).

Another philosophy of cosmicism is our limited understanding of the cosmos, and that humans are ultimately helpless and insignificant in the grand schemes of the universe (Stableford, 2007). We see this in The Colour out of Space, as the Colour is brought from a meteor from another cosmos and serves as a reminder that there are unknown forces and entities that exist outside of Earth. According to Slåtten (2016), the Colour is proof that a cosmic reality exists that is both foreign and horrifying to humans. The knowledge of this reality is not met with positive amazement or fascination, but rather insanity and fear (Slåtten, 2016). The Colour literally turns members of the Gardner family insane until they perish, and rather than investigating and coming to understand the Colour, the people of the town want to flood the area it infected with a dam to try and cover it up. The Colour represents a hostile cosmic force that humans have very little understanding of, and therefore is something they fear (Slåtten, 2016). Halldórsson (2010) argues that the Colour and the events it causes are not acts of evil, but rather go beyond that and are meant to be further than the comprehension of the reader, operating on a different set of laws. All the horrible things that happen to the Gardener family are merely side products of the cosmic force – it didn’t have a specific intention to terrorize this family in particular – reinforcing the insignificance of humans within the cosmos and how we are merely a means to an end (Halldórsson, 2010). All of this perfectly conveys a sense of dread. The revelation of our own insignificance in comparison to the universe is a frightening thought, as we are reminded how futile and powerless we are against forces we have a very limited understanding of (Halldórsson, 2010).

The Colour out of Space leaves us with unanswered questions about our place in the universe and if we’re ever truly safe from unknown evil. The fact that it leaves us unsure if we ever defeated the evil is truly terrifying, heightening our sense of dread and fear for what’s to come.

References

Halldórsson, K. R. (2010). HP Lovecraft. The Enlightenment and connection to the world of Cosmicism [Doctoral dissertation, University of Iceland]. Skemman. https://skemman.is/handle/1946/6241

Ralickas, V. (2007). “Cosmic Horror” and the Question of the Sublime in Lovecraft. Journal of the Fantastic in the Arts, 18(3), 364-398.

Slåtten, K. Ø. (2016). Humans in a hostile cosmos: Science, cosmicism and race in HP Lovecraft’s Cthulhu mythos [Master’s thesis, University of Stavanger, Norway]. University of Stavanger. http://hdl.handle.net/11250/2400445

Stableford, B. (2007). The cosmic horror. In Joshi, S. T. (Eds.), Icons of Horror and the Supernatural: An Encyclopedia of Our Worst Nightmares (pp. 65-96). Greenwood Publishing Group.

Week 5 – Anime

What is the ‘shōjo’ and how does it often function in anime?

Shōjo is a term that literally translates to “little female”, and in manga and anime is used to describe the transitional time between childhood and adulthood for young girls, usually aged 12 to 13 (Cavallaro, 2006). According to Berndt (2019), shōjo can refer to a genre aimed at female audiences, or to the character type of an adolescent girl. The main imagery used in shōjo is that of innocence, purity, virginity, vulnerability, and romantic nostalgia, but this is often contrasted with themes of sexuality and vulgarity, highlighting the transitional period of adolescence and its shift from child innocence to adult discovery (Berndt, 2019).

Mesuda (2015) argues that the function of shōjo in anime is to help young girls navigate the challenges and struggles they face in their lives. Whether it be adapting to the changes happening in their bodies, navigating difficulties with family and friends, or searching for their own sense of identity, shōjo stories have functioned to help young girls explore these issues and provide encouragement along the way (Mesuda, 2015).

However, Hairston (2015) argues that in modern manga and anime, shōjo character roles are limited to selective archetypes. These include: the magical girl who uses supernatural powers to solve problems, the romantic girl who just wants the perfect boy to fall in love with her, the cute girlfriend who exists solely as a plot device next to the main male character, and the “girls with guns” archetype where they are depicted as beautiful but deadly (Hairston, 2015). Many depictions of shōjo also serve the function of emphasizing the subservience and obedience expected of girls and women (Sugawa-Shimada, 2019).

The emergence of the mahō shōjo, or magical girl, also attempted to subvert the stereotypes of shōjo in anime (Sugawa-Shimada, 2019). For example, powerful young girls such as those in Sailor Moon defy the meek and obedient archetype as they fight against their villains by themselves (Sugawa-Shimada, 2019). Many mahō shōjo characters also exist to challenge gender roles, explore female sexuality, and show female empowerment (Sugawa-Shimada, 2019).

Both Hairston (2015) and Cavallaro (2006) point out that the films of Hayao Miyazaki defy these common shōjo stereotypes, as his female characters are strong, independent, inquisitive, well-rounded and active in their agency. For example, San from Princess Mononoke is a fiercely independent warrior who is also compassionate, as exhibited in the scene where she tries to suck out a bullet from the injured Wolf God (Cavallaro, 2006). Her bloodstained face is confronting and shows the viewer her grit, and this is contrasted when we realize she is covered in blood to help another being, showing her caring and nurturing side (Cavallaro, 2006). Other examples in Miyazaki’s films include Kiki in Kiki’s Delivery Service, who goes on an adventure in a new city all by herself while still an adolescent, Chihiro fighting a powerful sorceress to save her parents in Spirited Away, and Nausicaä exploring, flying, and fighting to the death, to save her people in Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind. While the sole function of shōjo in anime can be for how they look or the comedic effect they bring, Miyazaki’s characters function as serious role models that inspire and emotionally move the viewer (Hairston, 2015).

References

Berndt, J. (2019). Introduction: Shōjo mediations. In Berndt, J., Nagaike, K., & Ogi, F (Eds.), Shōjo across media: Exploring girl practices in contemporary Japan (1-21). Springer International Publishing AG.

Cavallaro, D. (2006). The anime art of Hayao Miyazaki. McFarland & Company.

Hairston, M. (2015). Miyazaki’s view of shojo. In Toku, M (Eds.), International perspectives on shojo and shojo manga: The influence of girl culture (101-108). Taylor & Francis Group.

Masuda, N. (2015). Shojo manga and its acceptance: What is the power of shojo manga? In Toku, M (Eds.), International perspectives on shojo and shojo manga: The influence of girl culture (23–31). Taylor & Francis Group.

Sugawa-Shimada, A. (2019). Shōjo in anime: Beyond the object of men’s desire. In Berndt, J., Nagaike, K., & Ogi, F (Eds.), Shōjo across media: Exploring girl practices in contemporary Japan (181-206). Springer International Publishing AG.

Week 4 – Anime

What features make Akira cyberpunk, and how does it reference the wider subgenre?

Cyberpunk can be described as a spin-off genre from science fiction, although it explores a different concept of the future (Indigo Gaming, 2019). It is heavily focused on high technology, as well as an oppressed society who are deprived of the benefits of this high technology and the advancements they bring (Indigo Gaming, 2019). Napier (2005) describes cyberpunk as a genre that centers on technologically advanced, dystopian futures where there is not always a clear distinction between human and machine. Many of the themes central to cyberpunk are explored in Akira, such as the use of technology, anti-establishment groups, and the overlap of humans and machines.

High technology features prominently throughout Akira. From Tetsuo’s metallic arm replacing his own after it gets shot off, the futuristic and stylized motorcycles used by Kaneda and his bōsōzoku motorcycle gang, and the laser rifle used against Tetsuo by Kaneda are all examples of advanced technology that is an essential cyberpunk element (de la Iglesia, 2018). Even the idea of the espers being laboratory experiments gone wrong, and the destruction of Tokyo and subsequently Neo-Tokyo because of these experiments, highlights the dangerous side effects of futurism and its quest for advancement (Indigo Gaming, 2019).

Another key component of cyberpunk are the themes of anti-establishment and non-conformity (Indigo Gaming, 2019). Akira explores these themes in several ways, where we see instances of anti-government and military power in which citizens fight back for control. For example, in the start of the movie there are protests and riots against the government and military, while the esper Takashi escapes a government lab with the help of a resistance organization, and Kaneda joins Kei’s resistance cell after learning about their plan to rescue Tetsuo (Gottesman, 2016). Akira also explores non-conformity with the use of the bōsōzoku motorcycle gang lead by Akira’s main character, Kaneda. The bōsōzoku are described by Standish (1998) as working-class youths who are unable to conform to society’s expectations of what they’re meant to be, and so resort to deviant behavior. Kaneda’s gang are an alienated, anti-establishment group who use their gang as a means to defy the control of the government and conventions of society (Gottesman, 2016). De la Iglesia (2018, page 2) also notes that within cyberpunk, “technology needs to be employed by anti-establishment, counter-cultural characters from the fringes of society.” This can be seen when Kaneda uses a laser rifle to try and stop Tetsuo, in an example of experimental and advanced technology used against a figure of authority, as Tetsuo has taken military and political control.

One question cyberpunk asks is, “what differentiates man and machine?” (Indigo Gaming, 2019). Again, this is explored in Akira. When Tetsuo has his arm shot off he tries to fuse with the metal and concrete of the Olympic stadium but loses control of its expansion (Gottesman, 2016). Tetsuo has become dehumanized through his transformation into an esper, and is now morphing into a machine (Gottesman, 2016). The espers also fit into the theme of humans versus machines, in the sense that they are dehumanized to the point where they become machines, with the sole purpose of aiding the government. The espers are a trio of children used in a government project to understand psychic powers, and are then held in isolation to prevent any information from being leaked. They are used as tools by the government and denied their humanity through their imprisonment. As Jordan Weisman points out, “Cyberpunk, at its core, is all about the dehumanization of humanity.” (Weisman, 2012, as cited in Indigo Gaming, 2019). This is true in the case of the espers, as they are only allowed to exist to serve the purposes of the government, rather than be free as their own autonomous people.

References

De la Iglesia, M. (2018). Has Akira Always Been a Cyberpunk Comic? Arts, 7(3), 32. https://doi.org/10.3390/arts7030032

Gottesman, Z. (2016) Tetsuo and Marinetti: Akira as a cyberpunk critique of futurist modernity. Journal of Japanese and Korean Cinema, 8(2), 104-126. https://doi.org/10.1080/17564905.2016.1221586

Indigo Gaming. (2019, December 1). Cyberpunk Documentary PART 1 | Neuromancer, Blade Runner, Shadowrun, Akira [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sttm8Q9rOdQ&feature=share&fbclid=IwAR0ZOnQmyGabIr8FMiM6Lkz-DBE1–cZrqPuIA2StGx-4WIjVmBrOKS9GeA

Napier, S. (2005). Anime: from Akira to Howl’s Moving Castle. Palgrave Macmillan

Standish, I. (1998). Akira, postmodernism and resistance. In Martinez, D. P. (Eds.). The worlds of Japanese popular culture : gender, shifting boundaries and global cultures (pp 56-74). Cambridge University Press.

Week 1

How has the academic reception of popular genres changed over time? What might the value be of studying them?

The academic reception of popular genres has changed over time to become more positive and accepting of them as a legitimate field of study. In the past, high culture and literature was seen as the only legitimate form of entertainment, whereas now it is more widely accepted that popular genres are so permeated in the everyday lives of people that to exclude their legitimacy is to exclude the experiences and beliefs of a wide range of people (McGaha, 2015). The academic reception to popular genres has also changed to be more critical of these genres as well, as many Marxist theorists have critiqued the consumerism around popular genres and how they service the capitalist domination of the upper-class.

The shift in academic reception to popular genres is a result of many factors, most critically the advancement and development of technology. This includes the evolution of television, the rise of comic books as opposed to traditional books, the shift from black and white to color on TV and film, and the use of multiple forms of media at once. Popular genres such as comic books, sci-fi, romance, fantasy, and horror became more interesting and entertaining than traditional genres. As a result, the need to study them became more important.

The value of studying popular genres comes from the importance of understanding culture from different social groups. For example, anime as a popular genre can tell us a lot about the culture, history and politics of Japan and how it relates to the wider world. It also tells us about the lives of ‘ordinary’ people, as high culture is typically reserved for members of the elite, as it is written by the elite for the elite.

Another value of studying popular genres is that it enables people to keep up with the modern world, one that is evolving constantly. Whereas traditional genres and literature can help explain the values, beliefs and politics from the past, popular genres give us a window into our present. This is important because of the constant evolution of technology, which makes our present hard to define in a narrow scope. Popular genres give us a sense of the world around us and the people who live in it, and therefore is a highly valuable field to study.

References:

McGaha, J. (2015). Popular culture and globalization. Multicultural Education, 23(1), 32–37.

Mountfort, P. (2020). ENGL602 Popular Genres: Lecture 1/Week: Introduction [PowerPoint slides] AUT Blackboard. https://blackboard.aut.ac.nz/