Tuesday, March 28, 2017
Nostalgia // Hook
Hook was much more of a punch in the nostalgic feels than I expected it to be. It’s hardly the film I watched all the time growing up (unlike Homeward Bound) but Spielberg is like the god of nostalgia so I should have known. Spielberg is an auteur whose authorship is marked by media featuring kids, usually kids with parental figure issues, blending of fantasy and reality, and hard hitting nostalgia. Hook is the perfect cocktail of this Spielberg syrup, featuring Robin Williams as an adult Peter Pan. A boy meant to never grow up grows up? Take a twenty two year old on the verge of college graduation and impending real life adulthood who forgot to take her anxiety medication that day and you have a bawling mess.
So let’s get academic: what made Hook so effective, almost formulaically effective, at eliciting such emotion? What is this film’s place in children’s media? Why is nostalgia worthy of study in our exploration of children’s media?
It starts with JM Barrie’s Peter Pan. Every western child knows the story: an eternal boy whisks a growing girl off to Neverland where she can live out her childhood fantasies without the interference of impending adulthood. Mermaids, pirates, Indians, Lost Boys, and fairies co-exist in a world of conflict made to look like child’s play. But then Hook asks the question “what if Peter grew up?” And Peter Pan becomes an absent father, successful lawyer, scared of heights, middle aged man. With this set up, we know we are in for a journey to return to Neverland, to return to Peter Pan, to return to childhood. Hook is about embracing the wonder of childhood, letting go of the adult world, and learning that even in becoming an adult, you don’t really have to grow up. It plays on a deep collective fear: the fear of growing old. My personal deepest fear, and I had forgotten until I saw Robin Williams in the iconic clothing of Peter Pan and was in some way disturbed.
Based on personal experience of this film affecting me more deeply as an adult than as a child, this film is not a film for children, but it is about childhood. I’m not sure Spielberg has ever made a film for children, but he sure has made a lot of films about children. And it’s made him an incredibly successful director. In a way, every experience viewing a film is an experience of nostalgia. By experiencing far away places, happy places, fantastical experience, we are in a sense longing for them, since we are unable to fully experience everything in our limited time and bodies. But what is worse than having never experienced something, is having experienced something you cannot get back. That’s the special brand of Spielberg nostalgia that is so gut-wrenching: a longing for childhood, a universally experienced place, that is long gone. Hook reminds us of this but also allows us to go back and experience that lost childhood again with Peter, allows us to get lost in Neverland again. This is the fundamental link between nostalgia and children’s media, and why this film holds a special place in children’s media. The ultimate peril of adulthood is nostalgia for what was experienced and lost.
Diversity // Witch of Blackbird Pond
“Who would guess," he teased, "that I'd ever see you on a rooftop with straw in your hair?"
Kit giggled. "Are you saying I've turned into a crow?"
"Not exactly." His eyes were intensely blue with merriment. "I can still see the green feathers if I look hard enough. But they've done their best to make you into a sparrow, haven't they?”
Kit giggled. "Are you saying I've turned into a crow?"
"Not exactly." His eyes were intensely blue with merriment. "I can still see the green feathers if I look hard enough. But they've done their best to make you into a sparrow, haven't they?”
***
Kit Tyler is one among the many beloved children’s books protagonists who doesn’t quite fit in the world around her. Displaced from her home in sunny Barbados, to the cold, puritan New England, The Witch of Blackbird Pond is the story of not just conformity and individuality, but of Kit’s navigation of personal identity in regards to her surroundings. For the most part, books like these feature an individualistic protagonist who must learn to navigate a “new normal” which is usually an oppressive institution or environment. Puritan New England is a prime example of this kind of new normal. For the young child reading this book, their New England is school, a new town, church, and other status quo establishments. As a kid reading this book, I identified all too easily with Kit. Craving warmth, understanding, diversity, and acceptance, I cared only for this girl and her older friend who were being accused of witchcraft. “Witch” became synonymous for counter-culture, unique, interesting, me. These narratives of witches among masses validated the moments when I couldn’t sit still in class, when I chose to read Harry Potter during sacrament meeting, or when I neglected my homework so I could play outside. Instead of understanding these things as normal aspects of childhood, I thought they were special parts of my identity, meant to be protected from the adult world and harsh institutions. Kit’s story made it clear that being a sparrow is the worst thing you could be.
Diversity, boiled down to it, is only Me and the Other. Children’s media that deals with themes of diversity, often neglects the Other, instead focusing on telling children that it’s okay to be Me. I can’t imagine any child reading The Witch of Blackbird Pond and identifying with the Puritans, or reading Harry Potter and wanting to be a muggle. Children want to be witches, they want to be anything but the status quo. At least I did. Instead of understanding institutions as man-made establishments that can be altered, I understood them as corrupted, unmoving monoliths that I must reject for my own personal identity. Instead of addressing the issues of public education, I decided to do my learning outside it, just like Kit is eventually unable to compromise her identity with the status quo and decides to return to Barbados. While The Witch of Blackbird Pond was and still is one of my favorite and most important children’s books, I understand now reading it as an adult that while it was nice to relate to tales of other “witches,” it might have been more productive, and more truly diverse, to better understand “the Other” rather than tales about “Me.” An example of media that I think better handles diversity, is Gabriel Axel’s Babette’s Feast, similarly about an outsider in a Puritan town. Instead of rejecting the status quo and flocking to those like her, Babette loves and transforms those around her, ultimately understanding the Other and never fighting them, but rather sharing a beautiful feast with them. This film celebrates both sides, celebrates true diversity, while still questioning the status quo and dealing with the same issues of individuality and conformity.
Monday, March 27, 2017
YouTube Sculpting
Artist's Statement:
White Trash. I've recalled seeing many videos circulating YouTube, usually under the title of "White Trash Fail." These videos show rural white America as violent, uneducated, overweight, reckless, moronic, I mean, you've seen them. I wanted to see if that was really all that was out there, though I must admit, by using this term which has a negative connotation, it makes sense that this is the sort of representation I would get. If I were to type in "ghetto" in a YouTube search, I doubt I would get very flattering representations of the black and Latino communities. But despite finding many of the typical "White Trash" videos, I found a lot of people proud of and trying to defend their white trashiness. That's why I chose to begin with The Apprentice clip, it shows a man trying to claim the label of white trash, but being told by dear old DJT that it is not something to be proud of. This sculpture ranges from people proud of their culture (though sticking to the label of redneck over white trash, something I found to be particularly interesting), people appropriating white trash culture (makeup tutorials, white trash parties), and ending with an alternative view of a community that is ridden with poverty, but hopes and desires to rise out of it. The homemade 4 wheel drive up BBQ banner was the most poignant part of this video. It represents both sides of "white trash:" a duct tape DIY spirit born out of poverty and resourcefulness and a desire to do the best one can in one's circumstance and come together as a community.
Tuesday, March 21, 2017
Activism
Response to Henry Jenkins' "Avatar Activism"
In his essay on how pop culture icons are appropriated for political activist means, Henry Jenkins points to two terms: "fan-activism" and "participatory culture." These concepts have added a dimension to civic engagement, political protests, and cultural divides that is based in semiotics. What pop culture references do, is act as a universal signifier. Films like Avatar, which received worldwide success, are perfect signifiers because they are multicultural icons, recognized across the globe, and signify a concept that is similarly universal. After V is for Vendetta, protesters wore Guy Fawkes masks, and with this simple cultural reference, their anonymity and cosplaying became political without having to say a word.
Popular culture is also a unifying force, bringing people together because of their common interest in certain media. Unification and solidarity is key in making grassroots political activism successful. Many people criticize certain political movements like Occupy Wall Street and Black Lives Matter because they are unable to develop a centralized group. A single media text with a strong icon or imagery (like the blue Pandorans in Avatar) is a great natural centralizer. Even if political opinions differ within the group, members of the Harry Potter Alliance can look to a text to help interpret injustice, just as Christians turn to the Bible or Americans turn to the Constitution. A central text is key, and why there is so much power in using pop culture.
Media Example:
Here's an interesting thing. Back during the Women's March on Washington I tweeted a thing that references Mad Max: Fury Road. In the film, these women protest by painting on the walls of their oppressor "We are not things." and "Our babies will not be warlords." I re appropriated one of these slogans as a tweet for the women's march, referring to some of the ideas in the film as a way to communicate frustrations in 140 characters or less.
In his essay on how pop culture icons are appropriated for political activist means, Henry Jenkins points to two terms: "fan-activism" and "participatory culture." These concepts have added a dimension to civic engagement, political protests, and cultural divides that is based in semiotics. What pop culture references do, is act as a universal signifier. Films like Avatar, which received worldwide success, are perfect signifiers because they are multicultural icons, recognized across the globe, and signify a concept that is similarly universal. After V is for Vendetta, protesters wore Guy Fawkes masks, and with this simple cultural reference, their anonymity and cosplaying became political without having to say a word.
Popular culture is also a unifying force, bringing people together because of their common interest in certain media. Unification and solidarity is key in making grassroots political activism successful. Many people criticize certain political movements like Occupy Wall Street and Black Lives Matter because they are unable to develop a centralized group. A single media text with a strong icon or imagery (like the blue Pandorans in Avatar) is a great natural centralizer. Even if political opinions differ within the group, members of the Harry Potter Alliance can look to a text to help interpret injustice, just as Christians turn to the Bible or Americans turn to the Constitution. A central text is key, and why there is so much power in using pop culture.
Media Example:
Here's an interesting thing. Back during the Women's March on Washington I tweeted a thing that references Mad Max: Fury Road. In the film, these women protest by painting on the walls of their oppressor "We are not things." and "Our babies will not be warlords." I re appropriated one of these slogans as a tweet for the women's march, referring to some of the ideas in the film as a way to communicate frustrations in 140 characters or less.
Tuesday, March 14, 2017
Children's Media: Play
As we discussed the topic of how play functions in childhood and children's media, I started with two questions. 1) Why is play so important for children? Why do we allow children the time and space to play? and 2) What does play look like for adults? In this week's response, I will take you through some of my thought processes, some of the conclusions I came to, and some media examples that support my ideas.
Between mandatory schooling and the occasional chore, a child's time is not bogged down by responsibility, but rather a combination of enjoyment and preparation. Enjoyment, because boredom is the single most terrible thing that can happen for most children, and preparation for the inevitable weight of responsibility that will replace all that fear of boredom. This is probably the basic understanding of what child's play is, but I propose there is something else going on that can extend past childhood and explain the actions and motivations of people of all ages. Certain things, of course, limit leisure and play time like poverty, societal roles, and other limiting circumstances, but each culture, person, and species practices a form of play time that seems to be crucial to developing into an adult and beyond.
Playtime is a testing ground. It's a time where one can simulate future possibilities in a safe space to prepare them for potential challenges. It's a time for creation, to practice building, making, taking and arranging pre-existing materials, developing skills and talents that will one day be crucial to becoming a productive member of the globe. As a child preparing to be adult, you play house, draw pictures, play board games, make up friends and worlds and scenarios. But as an adult, there is still an element of play. There is the type of play such as that in Jacques Tati's Playtime, where he proposes that most of the actions of adults are a type of child's play. If we as adults are doing the same thing as children, just on another level, then what are we preparing for? In Mormon theology, the answer is divinity, as I touched on in class.
So what is it when two young adults join together for a game of Jenga? Morgan and I did as such, and our conclusion? "I'm sure this is more fun when alcohol is involved."
Adults seek escape and release in their leisure time. Drinking, playing video games, exercising, watching TV-- these are all seen as breaks from our main lives which involve social responsibility. What if we were to see these responsibilities as play, the same time we see child's play as their responsibility? Shift the image of work as a necessary evil to work as the creative preparation to advance to a future version of ourselves? Playing Jenga as an adult was amusing with a dash of stress at best, but when it was over Morgan and I had things to look forward to which are the real playtime of being adults. I went home to clean a house, which to me is to create a home, a habitat, environment. Morgan went to hang out with her friends and boyfriend, which is to create memories, relationships, and joy. Playing Jenga was kind of like a church object lesson: sort of amusing, but you get the point real quick and want to move on.
That isn't to say you can't play games as adults, but it has to be self-motivated I think. It comes to mean something else. My favorite times playing games are playing strategy games with my family over the holidays. It's mostly an excuse to spend time together without ending in an argument about politics. I'm at the point in life where I am less interested in playing games than I am in creating them, which is probably how I ended up in film school.
Between mandatory schooling and the occasional chore, a child's time is not bogged down by responsibility, but rather a combination of enjoyment and preparation. Enjoyment, because boredom is the single most terrible thing that can happen for most children, and preparation for the inevitable weight of responsibility that will replace all that fear of boredom. This is probably the basic understanding of what child's play is, but I propose there is something else going on that can extend past childhood and explain the actions and motivations of people of all ages. Certain things, of course, limit leisure and play time like poverty, societal roles, and other limiting circumstances, but each culture, person, and species practices a form of play time that seems to be crucial to developing into an adult and beyond.
Playtime is a testing ground. It's a time where one can simulate future possibilities in a safe space to prepare them for potential challenges. It's a time for creation, to practice building, making, taking and arranging pre-existing materials, developing skills and talents that will one day be crucial to becoming a productive member of the globe. As a child preparing to be adult, you play house, draw pictures, play board games, make up friends and worlds and scenarios. But as an adult, there is still an element of play. There is the type of play such as that in Jacques Tati's Playtime, where he proposes that most of the actions of adults are a type of child's play. If we as adults are doing the same thing as children, just on another level, then what are we preparing for? In Mormon theology, the answer is divinity, as I touched on in class.
So what is it when two young adults join together for a game of Jenga? Morgan and I did as such, and our conclusion? "I'm sure this is more fun when alcohol is involved."
Adults seek escape and release in their leisure time. Drinking, playing video games, exercising, watching TV-- these are all seen as breaks from our main lives which involve social responsibility. What if we were to see these responsibilities as play, the same time we see child's play as their responsibility? Shift the image of work as a necessary evil to work as the creative preparation to advance to a future version of ourselves? Playing Jenga as an adult was amusing with a dash of stress at best, but when it was over Morgan and I had things to look forward to which are the real playtime of being adults. I went home to clean a house, which to me is to create a home, a habitat, environment. Morgan went to hang out with her friends and boyfriend, which is to create memories, relationships, and joy. Playing Jenga was kind of like a church object lesson: sort of amusing, but you get the point real quick and want to move on.
That isn't to say you can't play games as adults, but it has to be self-motivated I think. It comes to mean something else. My favorite times playing games are playing strategy games with my family over the holidays. It's mostly an excuse to spend time together without ending in an argument about politics. I'm at the point in life where I am less interested in playing games than I am in creating them, which is probably how I ended up in film school.
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