the pop criticultural infindibulator
DESCRIPTION
The Pop Criticultural Infindibulator features geek maven Carl Javier's critical essays, articles, analyses, papers, and speeches of the last few years. Covering film, television, literature, music, the overlaps between forms, digital media, and a wide range of pop culture topics, Javier brings a geek's perspective to critical analysis.TRANSCRIPT
The Pop Criticultural Infindibulator: Essays on Film, TV, Literature, and Music
Table of Contents
Introduction
Film1. 2015: The Year I Ride a Hoverboard2. Die Hard: The Movie You Watch a Million Times3. Johnny Mnemonic: My Introduction to Criminality4. Planet of the Apes: My Holy Week Flick5. Nightmare on Elm Street (2010) and a Guide to Contemporary Scaring6. Post-Apocalyptic as the Neo-Western7. Films and Piracy
Television1. How Do You Watch TV?2. Lost in the Multiverse3. Glee’s “Dream On”
Literary/Comics/Digital 1. What is CNF?2. Making the Most of my Midi-chlorian Count: Geek Consciousness, Identity, and
Humor in Creative Non-Fiction3. Hamlet and The Sopranos4. V for Vendetta: In Panels and Frames5. Freeing Culture6. The Future of the Book7. No Line on the Horizon: The Merging of Readers and Writers Through Social Media8. Test Drive: An Exploration of Contemporary Trends in Thought in Art and Science
Towards a Consummation of the Play Drive9. Dialect This, Mofo! Oversharing Facebook Photos10. The Digital Library Manifesto11. Digital Media and a Changing Materialism
Music1. Is Music Disposable?2. Songs as Poetry: Mos Def’s “Mathematics”3. Songs as Poetry: Ash’s “Shining Light”4. The Importance of Not Censoring Cee-Lo When He Sings “Fuck You”5. OA, Senti, and Emo
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Introduction
I type this introduction with the turning-thirty counter fast approaching zero. Kash
is across the bed from me, typing away at a book she’s working on, just like me
squeezing out the time available in between work and all the other things we have to
do. And she and so many other people have told me that I have nothing to worry
about, that turning thirty doesn’t really mean anything. And I believed the same.
Believed it, that is, until I started getting jitters about a week ago. I thought that I
wouldn’t freak out, that turning thirty would be just like when I turned twenty eight or
twenty nine. I don’t know what switch went off in my head, but suddenly I felt like I had
to do something massive, something that would justify my having been around so long.
Which isn’t to say that this book you’re reading now is that massive thing specifically.
Rather it’s the book, the work that went into it, and I suppose most importantly
the initiative behind this book’s release. The initial gumption for this kind of release
came from the impending birthday and the feeling like I had to do something. I could
not afford to throw a party, as recent employment issues, expenses, and delayed
checks did not make that a possibility. So I thought I would do something else on my
birthday.
The idea behind this isn’t exactly new. People give away their books. But in our
setting, with a reluctance to work in digital formats, a mistrust of books in file form, an
insistence on the physical manifestations of books, and an expectation that one would
want to earn from one’s books, I think this is a new thing, a project, an experiment. For
my birthday I really really want to give this book away. I want to say thank you to
everyone who has ever helped me out, took the time to talk to me or share an idea with
me, pass me a DVD, lend me a book, whatever. My thank you is this.
And if you haven’t been one of those people, but you’ve stumbled upon this book,
got emailed it, downloaded it from somewhere or other, I thank you still. Thank you for
opening this file and giving this book, and my writing in general, a chance. Please pass
it along to others.
While my first few books were literary in nature (creative nonfiction and short
stories) I’ve always thought of myself as a journalist. I started writing for magazines and
newspapers when I was a college freshman, and I’ve been contributing work to some
publication or other since then. There’s been so much writing done in that span of
more than a decade now that I’ve lost count of all the articles I’ve written.
A recent attempt at cleaning out my bodega uncovered binders that my mom
(ever-supportive and loving blindly even the worst-written of my works) had compiled,
newspaper and magazine cut-outs of a lot of works that I had forgotten that I’d written.
I’d leaf through a binder and be surprised, thinking, hey I don’t remember reviewing
this movie, or really? I don’t remember going to that event. Then there are those
articles that I remember writing, but don’t even know how to get a hold of anymore.
This is all to say that with all of that stuff written, all of the good and bad, there’s just so
much to choose from and at the same time there’s so much that I don’t know how to
get a hold of.
Blame technology. Years ago I dreamed of compiling a book of essays made up
of music and movie reviews and cultural criticism. I thought I was a smart enough kid
to say something (and writers that I admired had similar books so I thought it couldn’t
hurt to take a stab at such a book). Every time I’d try to put it together, a virus would
descend on my computer and ravage it, leaving a husk and a hard drive waiting to be
reformatted and nothing else. It didn’t help that over the decade or so I had changed
computers, worked in various offices, and stored files all over the place. Some of these
can still be found on old 3.5mm diskettes which are somewhere in my house. I can’t
access them anymore (computers at home don’t even have CD drives anymore, it’s
either USB or wireless) but I can’t bear to throw them out, thinking that I might just find
some way to get those things.
Then again getting those files might not be so great. I tend to think the latest thing
I’ve written is awesome, and the stuff written before that is terrible, immature trash. In
some ways I guess it’s a good thing that viruses and other issues would pop up,
ensuring that I never published a collection of essays prematurely.
I shelved the idea of an essay collection and worked on other things. I was
publishing other books, trying to do different things, and collected reviews seemed to
be something unimportant.
In 2010 though, I churned out a bunch of articles that I felt when compiled as a
book would work to make a kind of statement or at least a time capsule on things I was
writing in that period.
I was made editor of the Metakritiko page of The Philippine Online Chronicles.
Metakritiko in the months I handled it was one of the most exciting experiences of my
life. I brought in writers that I admired and had worked with, and together we tried to
redefine arts and culture criticism. There were attempts to make criticism more
hardcore, applying more rigorous theoretical approaches. There was the attempt to
critique things that the academe normally wouldn’t touch, like a scene-by-scene
analysis of an episode of Glee, a study of photos posted on Facebook, and a reading
of rap lyrics as poetry. And there was the attempt to incorporate Creative Nonfiction,
criticism as autobiography and vice versa. It was a time of great experimentation. As
expected some of these things blew up in our faces. But that goes with the nature of
what we were doing.
The number of the essays in this book were published there. Others showed up in
other websites. And some of the essays were written for my MA classes and others
were delivered as talks. There’s a mishmash of pop culture stuff here, some of my
attempts to write film reviews as autobiography and vice versa, and my attempts at
looking at different content platforms to see where these will go in the future. With my
range of interest in entertainment media I found myself writing about various works,
from personal pieces that stem from nostalgia and then discuss cultural engagement
(like my piece about Die Hard) to looking hard and trying to be critical of texts that I
love, like V for Vendetta.
I chose the content that I wrote about based, first and foremost, on things that
interest me. Lost was a series I watched religiously. I am a fan of Western movies. I’ve
read a lot of comic books. I was a late-starter but became a Sopranos devotee. These
things entertained me and they sparked interest and got me thinking. Sometimes these
were bad things (like the Nightmare on Elm Street reboot) but they got me thinking
about form and genre and how these different cultural works operated. So in choosing,
I selected works of popular culture that I readily consumed. The next consideration was
that I could write about these works in a way that would be interesting and different.
Some of the texts here, be they film, music, comics, or TV, have been written about by
others already in reviews and online (Lost has its own analysis books; V for Vendetta is
a vital text that is popular among scholars and comic book fans). I was trying to find a
different way of approaching these texts. And that’s where I brought in the geek
perspective.
People who have read my other books know that I’ve had a penchant for using
the word geek or some reference to geekiness in my titles. This is because all of the
work I’ve written has been put through that filter of geekiness. What comprises this
filter? The geek has a rabid devotion to his fandoms. But beyond that the geek also
enjoys thinking about entertainment media texts much more than most people. Not
only does a geek consume culture, but he thinks about it and analyzes (and sometimes
over-analyzes it).
This book doesn’t try to employ traditional theoretical frameworks too much. It
doesn’t shoot to be a theory-heavy book. Rather it tries to be written in a way that the
lay-reader who hasn’t spent any time in a literary theory class can understand and
appreciate what’s being said. It also hopes that despite the general attempt to avoid
jargon and to reach a larger readership, that it can still provoke reading and discussion
from critical theory fans. It attempts to encourage discourse by talking about these
texts as a geek would, by trying to see not what their larger cultural significances are,
or how they reveal the power relations in sex and class, but rather by trying to see what
makes these things cool or interesting, trying to see what makes these texts tick. Like a
lot of geek culture, it mixes and mashes and pushes things together (The Sopranos
and Hamlet, Lost and String Theory) and tries to find connections and examines how
they all work.
These essays don’t aim to be the last word in things, but rather the opening
volleys in conversation, the hope being that we can engage these texts, and many
other things, in an intellectual manner. I hope that the essays in this book get people
talking and arguing, first with me and my ideas, and then with each other. I hope that
this builds up and gets us all thinking more, being more critical of all the content that’s
around us. I hope that we can shake up the way that we think, and I hope that this
book makes a small contribution to that large goal.
And my other faint hope, as I finish this and count down those hours before I
leave my twenties, is that people who read and like this book will recommend it and my
other books to other people. If you liked this, maybe you can help support my writing
by downloading my other books or getting copies. Give friends a copy, pass it around.
Let people know I’m here, I’m around, and I’m trying to say something. Thanks.
Film
2015: The Year I Ride a Hoverboard
(This essay appeared in new-slang.com as part of their Future issue. I wrote it as a hopefully fun take on my own dreams of the near future.)
In the How I Met Your Mother episode “The Fight,” Jason Segel’s Marshall
Eriksen insists that lightsaber technology is under development and that soon enough
he will be carving a turkey using one. And in characteristic HIMYM fashion the
episode’s epilogue shows a flashforward (from the episode’s narrative frame) but a
flashback (in relation to the series’ overarching framework) that has Marshall swinging a
lightsaber to indeed cut up a turkey.
I have to admit that I share Marshall’s optimism about future gadgets, and I also
hope that in some loopy flashforwardy/flashbacky continuity of the narrative of my life I
get my grubby, geeky hands on a lightsaber, a phaser, or at least a cool communicator
gadget that gets pinned to my shirt. And though I know it won’t happen if we are to
follow continuity, I would like to tap that gadget, say, “Beam me up,” and materialize on
some transporter.
How far these various technologies are from development, one can only ponder,
or maybe read Michio Kaku’s The Physics of the Impossible to get a more sobering
assessment of which gadgets and when to expect them. But hey, the stuff that we’re
seeing in the Iron Man movies is near-future tech, and I’ve got what I think is a well-
founded suspicion that Steve Jobs or Bill Gates already have some of that tech in their
own basements.
It’s 2010 now, and the year that I am looking forward to is 2015. 2010 is
supposed to be the year we make contact, but I’m not exactly banking on that. I am
placing all my faith and optimism in the 2015 that I was shown, despite some of the
tacky post-punk fashion trends that have been predicted by a lot of scifi flicks.
Why 2015? Oh most of you know already, you don’t even need me to spill it. But
for those who had to ask why that year is more important, more a landmark than any
other year before or after it, it’s quite simple really. It’s the year that Doc Brown brought
Marty McFly to.
In 1985 and 1955 Marty McFly (and depending on which universe you belong to
this would either be Michael J. Fox or Eric Stoltz) gets around on a skateboard and in
1885 Marty gets dragged around the Hill Valley Town Hall by horses, but it was in 2015
that he faced a Tannen using a hoverboard.
And that, friends, is what I want.
Some of the stuff portrayed in the movie is already done and gone, for example
the arcade machines shown there have been surpassed by today’s machines, and all
the Max Headroom-themed design is definitely passé, as are the tacky color schemes
(ah aren’t we fortunate that the fashion of the future imagined by people in the 80s
didn’t come to fruition?). Jaws 3-D would probably still scare me, but the graphical
representation of the shark that tries to chomp down on Marty is nothing next to the
big blue Na’Vi.
And as a bonus for people like me who have trouble buying clothes, check out
the new features they have when Marty puts on a pair of pants and a jacket. I am a
short stocky guy with broad shoulders. This means that my big shoulders necessitate
buying large, XL, and in this era of the slim fit shirt, double and triple Xs at times, but
then my arms are short so I have these big baggy things with long sleeves that threaten
to wrap around me like a straitjacket. And the pants! Oh the pants. Years of drinking
and sitting in front of a computer for long hours while munching junk food have
provided me with a considerable beer belly, making it a challenge acquiring a pair of
pants that fit my big belly but short legs.
But the people of 2015 have solved this problem! Forget slim-fit, dry-fit, or
whatever. They have invented auto-fit clothing. Doc presses a button on Marty’s
clothes and voila, they fit him perfectly. The only other innovation that I could ask for in
terms of fashion would be clothes that would auto-select themselves. Again I’m a
terrible dresser so if clothes could choose themselves, could decide that they would
make me look good, then that would really be the last step in fashion evolution for me.
At this point it becomes apparent that we do wind up musing about the things
that we could do with technology, and it often turns to providing personal amenities. As
shown in so much scifi, we could be using technology to change the world, to improve
humanity, but often we choose first to indulge material wants and personal needs.
Despite my often big thinking about terraforming, developing sustainable energy
sources, and enhancing the human brain so that we can achieve even greater things, I
have gone on for a number of paragraphs about how I would like the future to provide
me with clothing that would dress me.
It’s a good thing then, that the people of 2015 aren’t as distracted as me, aren’t
as selfish as I can be. Because though they will provide me with auto-fitting clothing,
they have also solved a number of major problems that we of 2010 can’t seem to
handle.
The first of these is one that we can’t seem to handle even with coding schemes
and U-turn slots and interchanges and all other manner of MMDA mediation: traffic.
How do the people of 2015 do away with the traffic problem? Simple, make roads
irrelevant. Make your cars fly.
The DeLorean (and isn’t Doc Brown’s DeLorean an awesome car? Right?
Probably the only other cars that I could imagine being more awesome to ride in are
the batmobile and the original KITT car, not the one voiced by Val Kilmer, and after the
DeLorean I would rank the A-Team van) gets an upgrade by the end of the first Back to
the Future movie. As it begins to throttle down the street and gain speed it lifts up into
the air, fold its tires, and goes into hover mode.
I can’t really imagine how we would go about flagging down cabs, or what we
would do with all the overpasses and underpasses and interchanges and whatnot once
flying cars come into being, but I think it would definitely be in improvement to what we
have now. I wonder if we would all have to walk around with parachute-like devices for
when we would get off a flying jeep or bus. That actually sounds kind of fun. Possibly
cooler (but not economically viable) and definitely awesome would be if, when we
would have to eject out of a vehicle we would be dropped in pods like Space Marines
in Halo: ODST, plummeting to Earth each time. That’d be a rush, and would turn
commuting into an experience as thrilling as going to an amusement park and riding
rollercoasters. (Come to think of it though, isn’t riding in a jeep or bus with a crazy
driver already a comparable experience? Except that it would actually be safer to get
dropped from space like an ODST than to ride in a crazy swerving jeepney or bus.)
Along with solving the problem of traffic, the people of 2015 have also
developed a solution that hits two birds with one stone. They have found sustainable
energy and a way to handle the garbage problem. It’s so simple, and yet we of 2010
can’t get it to work just yet, but in five years, you just wait brother, we’ll be able to
divert global warming. It’s so simple, so obvious, conforms to Ockham’s razor so well;
we use our garbage as fuel.
The DeLorean also got an engine upgrade with its flight upgrade, so it went from
running on gas to running on trash. Doc Brown sees that he’s low on fuel, so before
taking the DeLorean to the air he rummages through Marty’s trashcan and picks out
some scraps like a banana peel and feeds it into the DeLorean and they are off and
flying into the future. That means that green technologies will finally (and I say that with
the exasperated tone that so many of us have when we think about our dependence
on fossil fuels and how long we have all known that we should have been breaking that
dependence, with the exasperation so many of us share because we are frustrated by
how so many countries, especially the big, developed countries have ignored the Kyoto
protocol and other various initiatives to address global warming until it has reached the
crisis point that we are at now) be a reality, that the people of 2015 will be working in a
world that is turning back the effects of global warming and finding ways to keep the
Earth sustainable and inhabitable not only for humans but for all the various flora and
fauna that are threatened with extinction in 2010.
The people of 2015 will have solved so many problems that we face now. I just
can’t wait for it to happen. Of course when Marty McFly jumped to 2015, he was
jumping thirty years into the future, whereas we are only talking of a five year gap until
then and now. This means, then, that we have to make that happen.
This makes me think of a Ray Bradbury short story, “The Toynbee Convector.” In
it Toynbee claims that he saw the future, and he comes back with photos and creates a
model of a great, wonderful future that would see a fruition of man’s goals and dreams,
a golden age, a good society of equality and progress and peace. Because he
provided people with this image of a great future, the people in the story worked
towards and eventually attained this future. On his deathbed Toynbee confesses that
he never went to the future, that his time machine was just a hoax. But he had given
people a vision of something that they could work towards, and they had attained that
vision.
I have seen the future. It’s got auto-fit clothes and flying cars and vehicles that
run on garbage. I want that. And darn it, I want a hoverboard.
That movie you watched a million times: Die Hard
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net)
These days it’s common for people to watch certain movies over and over, just
because they are showing on cable. It’s thus that cultural gems such as White Chicks
or High School Musical embed themselves in the consciousness of the youth. Of
similar frequency, but decidedly better quality, is Mean Girls, which I remember my
former students had seen so often that they had memorized all the lines.
There are a number of movies from my youth that I saw many times, because
they were so appealing, or they were always on TV, or some other such circumstance.
Some that immediately come to mind are The Mighty Ducks, The Ernest movies
starring Jim Varney (Hey Vern!), and The Planet of the Apes franchise, which I fondly
remember would run for a week, called Apes Week. It becomes apparent that our
choice in which films we watch when we are young are not based on artistic/aesthetic
choices, but rather they are largely based on circumstance.
As a result it’s a lucky circumstance that leads us to the movies that I’ve seen a
million times. There are two in particular, and I attribute it all to my parents’ broken
VCR. We were a middle class family, just on the fringes and hanging onto the middle
status, so when our VCR broke, we could afford to replace it. The replacement stayed
in my parents’ room, and the old one was supposed to go to the junk shop had I not
salvaged it.
I tinkered with that beat up thing, opening it up and just haphazardly messing
with its internals until, I don’t know how, but I got it working again. My parents were
getting rid of it because they didn’t think that I needed a VCR, and I suppose they
wanted just the one in their room so that they could monitor the movies that I watched.
But since I’d fixed it up, I earned the right to keep it.
And so we owned two video tapes that I watched over and over. They were Star
Wars Episode IV: A New Hope and Die Hard. These two movies and their inhabiting my
consciousness at an early age explain a lot about me and how I am now. If you’ve read
any of my creative work, it would be immediately apparent that I am a big scifi fanatic.
But Die Hard, there’s a film that would define a lot of things for me.
Die Hard, for one, showed me how flawed adult relationships are. At the start
we’ve got Bruce Willis’s John McClane separated from his wife, flying to LA to be with
his kids. It also centers around my favorite holiday, Christmas, and for some reason, up
to this day, when the holidays roll around I have to pull out one Die Hard movie or
another, even the later, non-Christmas-themed ones.
I believe an important aspect of Die Hard is its use of humor. Despite the horrific
situation portrayed in the film (terrorist hijacking of a building on Christmas Eve) the film
knows how to tease out a lot of laughs, and Bruce Willis’s McClane has a lot to do with
it. He’s a charming rogue, a flawed everyman whose wits are as quick as his quips. As
one watches one understands how his wife came to both like him and despise him.
Later iterations of McClane would see his transformation from everyman cop to tank-
like superhero as they developed the Die Hard mythos, but this first portrayal of him
stands as the most honest and memorable.
And the action scenes, oh the action scenes. McClane running around barefoot
taking down baddies, going through vents and shafts and getting the drop while
spewing out great lines. The final, big scene on the roof is memorable, despite the bad
decision to go into slow-mo during Gruber’s fall.
Alan Rickman, who has probably cemented himself in the minds of younger
audiences as Snape, will forever be, in my mind, the insidious and brilliant Hans
Gruber. When McClane runs into him and he shifts into an American accent and
becomes a groveling American, it’s a chilling and unforgettable cinematic moment.
You’re sitting there, on the edge of your seat. You know he’s the bad dude, but
McClane doesn’t and you want to scream at him, “Watch out! Shoot this evil guy! Don’t
fall for it!” And director John McTiernan teases out every drop of tension from that
scene.
As a whole Die Hard operates as a great movie, and I guess that I was lucky
enough that that was one of the movies that helps to establish the kinds of movies that
I would enjoy and look for later in my life. I am always up for a movie with great action
scenes. Probably not so good is that it also made me ready to watch pretty much any
Bruce Willis movie, even lame ducks like Striking Distance and Hostage as well as
great stuff like The Fifth Element and Sin City.
My introduction to criminality: Johnny Mnemonic
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net)
We’re all familiar with celebrities that have a penchant for pilfering for thrills.
They can afford to pay for the trinkets they swipe; heck can probably pay the prices ten
times over. And yet they do it. I try and contextualize my own introduction to amateur
criminality in this kind of universe. I want my sins, when judged, to be mitigated by
these other, more unusual criminal acts.
I did consider them sins, being a Catholic school kid at the time that I committed
them, kneeling before the priest in the confessional and asking to be absolved, yet
unable to promise that I would not do it again. Even though I asked for absolution I
knew that if given the chance or the right motivation I would do it again. Ah the guilt of
having done something wrong, the guilt of confessing and saying those Hail Marys
while knowing full well that I would sin again.
I stole movies. Sort of. It’s not like I walked into video rental shops and took
home VHS tapes. I did not have the cojones for that. And even to this day I do not think
that my demanding, guilt-exacting superego would allow such behavior. Guilt and fear
would stop me well before I got to the store’s threshold, thanks to my fire-and-
brimstone Catholic school upbringing.
What I did was I would buy one ticket, and then sneak into other movies.
This began with the problem of ratings, making the first offense not an act of theft, but
impropriety as deemed by the censors. I wanted to watch Johnny Mnemonic, which
was a scifi-action flick starring Keanu Reeves. It was by no means spectacular, but for
a nerdy SF-loving kid, it was amazing. Reeves played the titular character who was
something of a human hard drive. You could plug stuff into his brain and he would
transport it. Or something like that. It had lots of violence and cool gadgetry and
showed how well Reeves played a dude whose brain you could plug things into.
The problem was that it was rated R and I was thirteen when it came out. I
wanted to see the movie, was willing to shell money out for it, but would not be
allowed into the theater without a parent. And neither of my parents wanted to watch
that. There was only one remedy: to cheat the cinema.
Here we usually have cinemas in malls, and each cinema has its own ticket
booth, own person manning the ticket booth. Sometimes they will have one team of
say, ticket person and security guard, manning a booth that serves two theaters. But in
general the theaters here are pretty well guarded. But in the Los Angeles of the early
90s (and I guess up ‘til now) theaters were housed in cinemas, where you would have a
number of movie theaters in that one building, and there was only one access point,
the main entrance. Once you got past the main entrance, you just made your way to
the theater that you were supposed to go to.
This opened up the opportunity to pay for a ticket for one movie that I would be
allowed into (say a Disney kid flick), have that ticket ripped at the entrance, line up for
popcorn, then duck into a theater showing a different movie that I should not be
allowed into (like Johnny Mnemonic).
I don’t know what criminal act you could classify that as. Is it theft? I did pay,
just for something else. Is it fraud then? Had I done something fraudulent? Maybe. Was
it a crime on myself, as I was underaged and should not have been exposed to such
violence and gore at a young level? Maybe that too. When I confessed to the priest he
wasn’t sure either, so he just told me to say five Hail Marys and not do it again.
I did do it again however. And I added a new trick to my criminal activities, which
I am pretty sure could be classified as theft, in some form or other. I would buy a ticket
for the earliest screening of one movie. I would actually watch that movie, but then,
because I had memorized the screening schedules for the various theaters, I would
hop from one theater to another, watching movies that I hadn’t paid for. Sometimes I
would see two or three movies at a time, leaving the cinemas well past dusk with my
eyes weary from looking at massive images all day.
I couldn’t afford to watch so many movies, and even renting them on VHS my
funds would have been insufficient. But through these small acts of criminality I began
to build my film vocabulary, and to have a reverence for the cinema-going experience,
to always have a palpable sense of the difference between watching things on other
formats and watching them on the big screen.
Notions of theft and film have become much more widespread since then. With
the numerous pirated DVDs available from everywhere, and movies available online
(albeit sometimes with an audience included) and the question of protecting these films
from piracy and unauthorized reproduction and use, it seems that my little acts were
petty.
But at the heart of it all, whether those acts of sneaking into theaters or
downloading torrents or buying pirated DVDs, all of these are indicative for a love of
movies. The degree of love will always vary, it may just be simply liking to watch
movies in one’s spare time, or it may reach the level of critical aspirations that a lot of
friends have, amassing collections of great films that would not be available through
other means.
Lots of people love movies. And sometimes things get in the way of that love.
These things could be cost or problems of distribution, or all kinds of other factors. In
the end though, if you love movies, then it’s just like romantic love, you always find a
way.
My Holy Week flick: Planet of the Apes
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net)
Holy week, for many, is a time for religion and introspection, penance and
deprivation, and well, for vacation. If you can get out of the city then you’re probably at
a beach somewhere enjoying the first days of summer. The time, as with most times in
the year, has its own cinematic connections for me.
How can I forget the holy week when I watched the grueling Passion of Christ?
At markedly lesser levels of bloodshed, other movies that were in constant play were
my overly-religious mother’s favorites The Ten Commandments and Ben-Hur. Little
wonder that Charlton Heston ranked among her favorite actors (how she feels about
his work in other movies like The Omega Man or Touch of Evil is something that I still
have to find out). Also doing the rounds regularly was The Greatest Story Ever Told.
I did appreciate these films, because how can you not, right? These are really
well made films, and they have proven to be timeless. But I found that my own tastes
were looking for something else, something different.
Lucky me that the something different that I found on holy week was something
my mother found acceptable, thanks to Charlton Heston. While the rest of the family
was hitting the churches and singing the pasyon (it was pretty amazing thinking back
now, that the Filipino community in our little pocket of Los Angeles had the
commitment to carry this tradition halfway across the world and still practice it, erm,
religiously) I was being transported two millennia into the future and finding the world
turned upside down on Planet of the Apes.
Apes was the first film of a five-day-long ritual that coincided with holy week,
Apes week. This might sound blasphemous to some, to connect holy week to Apes
week, but when you think about it, it’s pretty apt, especially considering the religious
implications that the first film bravely (if at times heavy-handedly) makes. The rest of
the films, at least if memory serves me right, don’t make as powerful commentary and
were mostly cash-ins on the franchise. But they aired all five films during holy week.
Thus I had to find a copy this holy week and watch it. And in returning to it, I find
that it’s even better than I remember. I remember it being action packed and I
remember how disturbing it was to see someone treated that way by apes. Granted
that the costumes don’t look so great now, but even then, the acting came through and
the movie was made so well that it all seemed believable.
Mixed in with the pointed social commentary about human rights, the struggle
between religion and science (which even to this day has yet to be resolved), the anti-
MAD doctrine, and questioning what really defines humanity, are well-staged pulse-
pounding action sequences.
The frantic escape from the space shuttle is followed by the grueling walk
through the forbidden zone. Then after luring viewers into a false sense of security, the
astronauts led by Heston’s Taylor are robbed of all their belongings. Once they catch
up with the humans who did the robbing, the humans are then all attacked by apes on
horseback with rifles, who wrangle in some humans and just kill others for sport. Then
there is Taylor’s attempted escape where he runs through the ape city, and the later,
climactic scenes.
This shows then that Planet of the Apes’ form may serve as one of the templates
of the contemporary scifi action flick. Good effects, some exceptional make-up work,
strong scifi premise, and some exciting action sequences. Where Apes succeeds that
so many of its successors fails is that is has something to say. Both on the levels of its
narrative, the story of Taylor, an astronaut who finds himself in this strange, frightening
world; and on the level of the various social commentaries that it makes, Apes is
concerned with telling us something, not just dazzling us with flash, bang, and whiz
special effects.
Planet of the Apes probably doesn’t come to anyone else’s mind in this season
(oddly enough, HBO just started running Godfather movies so I am wondering if this
was a conscious decision and if this will define holy week in the future) but looking
back at it now, it asks us important questions. How do we treat other people? What do
we think of the future of the human race should look like? What kind of cruelties do we
perpetrate on things (or people) just because they can’t express themselves? How do
we treat information that challenges our worldview, that forces us to reorient the way
we see things that we believe to be true? If there are questions worth asking during
holy week, then those are among them, and if you’re looking for a movie that makes us
ask those questions, Planet of the Apes is it.
Nightmare on Elm Street (2010)
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net)
Bit of a background on my experience with the original Nightmare on Elm Street
to contextualize how I approached this new film. As a child my parents told me never
to watch that movie (even if they were watching it, my father forcing it upon my mother
who was terrified and as a result could not sleep after, while, ironically enough, my
father slept through the film) because I would be so scared that I wouldn’t be able to
fall asleep. But being a kid, when your parents tell you not to do something, you know
that you have to do it.
And so I filched the VHS tape from their room and stuck it into my ratty old
player. In about half an hour I was crying and screaming for my mom to come to my
room, unable to move from my bed or approach the player to turn it off. I spent that
night on the floor of their room, unable to stay in my room alone. And the lasting effect
was that for almost a decade I could not watch any horror films, and any time that I
was left alone and in the dark, I would have images of Freddy Krueger creeping up on
me, ready to kill me in my dreams.
I recovered eventually, even took a liking to the horror genre, writing short stories
and becoming something of a horror film connoisseur. But that initial trauma, as a small
kid witnessing Freddy committing his malicious acts on those teens was traumatizing,
and possibly more so because I was never able to finish that film, nor see any of the
sequels, not even the campy Freddy vs. Jason.
And so here we are, me in 2010 going into the theater ready to face Freddy
again after almost two decades. A different Freddy, Jackie Earle Haley now instead of
Robert Englund, and the deft hand of Wes Craven no longer behind the camera, but
Freddy nonetheless. To whom does this round go? Me. But really, I wish that Freddy
had gotten me just as well as he did that first time around.
What we have in this incarnation of Nightmare on Elm Street is a powerful
concentration of predictable tropes and telegraphed spook-outs, all calibrated for base
scares and sudden shocks but nothing of any real lasting horror. What made Freddy so
scary that first time around was that, much like the dreams of the characters, he was
able to invade my (and I’m sure many other people’s) mind, creating tremendous fear
long after the last reel ended (or in my case long after my mom turned off the VCR).
The set-up is pretty basic, and I’m not spoiling anything by revealing that there’s
something that connects the group of kids that Freddy is after. You have a batch of
teens that starts dying violently. There’s a slight hint of moralist sentiment, which is par
for the course for slasher flicks, but not that much (we usually expect teens in such
films to head somewhere dark, make out, do drugs, have sex, and pay the price with
their lives, no such retribution here, though there are a number of “money shots” which
play up characters’ cleavage, which is par for the course for slasher flicks too, before
the character meets a grisly death).
What we do have is the deranged Freddy who keeps showing them an industrial
setting, a boiler room, and images of children. He seems to be leading them
somewhere and unearthing some kind of repressed memory that all these teens share.
This is a point where, on a theoretical level, the movie could have had some
meat. There is some reference to psychoanalysis, and the presence of Freddy and
what powers him here is intriguing. Their collective repressed memory (in a seemingly
Jungian turn) has helped to make Freddy real, the further he is repressed, the more
guilt the kids feel, and the more powerful he becomes. Thus, as they begin unlocking
their shared memories, they fuel Freddy’s power for vengeance, enabling him to take
his vengeance on them.
This shows itself as an opportunity to play with more surreal shifts and more
frightening things. Indeed the appeal of this, as in the first one, is that we have no
control of our dreams and there is true terror when we experience nightmares. So what
happens when a monster starts inhabiting your nightmares, lying in wait for you to fall
asleep so that he can kill you there? You try not to fall asleep, but of course that’s
impossible, and in the end Freddy’s waiting.
The premise is so powerful, so filled with horror that it would seem impossible
for this movie to not be scary. But, at least to me, it wasn’t scary at all. It may be that I
expected to be frightened as I was with the original, or The Exorcist, or The Ring, or
other movies that freaked me out. Or it may have been that I had seen so many horror
films that I had grown desensitized. But from my seat in the theater where people were
squealing and squirming, Nightmare on Elm Street felt like a pretty generic slasher flick,
with some decent effects and showy shots, but nothing really to make it memorable.
We recognize that it falls in with the trend of horror flick remakes/updates which
have in general been pretty dismal. There’s always something missing in these
updates, an inability to ground these formerly horrific films in a contemporary context
and to make them mean something for today’s viewers. There are the occasional ones
that will do the job, but usually, they turn out like Nightmare on Elm Street, a by-the-
numbers remake that doesn’t really bring anything new to the table except for
contemporary camera tricks.
And this does make full use of all the trickery and special effects that it can.
There’s some good, clean editing here, and the first few times that things shift from real
world to dream world they are creepy. But this trick gets used too often until it doesn’t
really have that much of an effect.
To be fair to the film, there are some visceral scares, and a lot of things that will
make viewers jump up in their seats. But then these come from predictable set-ups, or
more frustratingly from characters acting stupid. Now we do have to allow for
characters in movies such as this to act stupid because that’s usually what helps to
push the plot along. Here though, the stupidity can get frustrating, because it’s clear
that they are doing certain things just for the sake of moving the plot along.
The problem of the plot not moving smoothly is largely the fault of a script that
would make most readers give themselves facepalms regularly. There’s so much
exposition in the dialogue. Another major problem with the dialogue is that it doesn’t
sound natural, but rather it all sounds like the characters are reiterating certain points
or expressing their emotions just in case you missed it when they were trying to make
the point.
And most of the scenes in the film seem like they are just fillers for when Freddy
can show up and kill people.
The movie can be effective when those scenes do come in. The sound design
here is good. A lot of horror lives and dies by the sound, and here it’s pretty powerful,
the scratches and booms and oomphs and screeching and all other manner of
disturbing sound, as well as the inevitable ominous tones that play to create tension
and a sense that something bad is going to happen.
As mentioned before though, these scenes are scary, but at the same time way
too cliché. Someone climbs up into the attic. You know what’s gonna happen there.
Someone hides in a closet. You know exactly what to expect. Bad things are
happening so someone wants to go it alone. You know what’s gonna happen. A dude
is saying something really bad is happening to him and no one believes him. You know
he’s gonna get it. All these people are getting killed and two characters pull up in a car
somewhere. But one character wants to stay in the car. So you know something’s
gonna happen.
These scenes are scary because of the anticipation that they create, because
you know that Freddy is lurking, ready to pounce when he is given these opportunities.
But the truth of the matter is that Freddy here isn’t really all that scary. Sure he’s got the
claws and all, and he can kill you. But there’s just a certain level of menace lacking. The
original Freddy just seemed like he was having such a good time killing people that it
genuinely freaked you out; not only was he doing all this mean, evil stuff to people but
he was really enjoying it.
The new Freddy is transformed from a mass murderer to a pedophile, and this
sort of changes the level of malice here. And there’s none of that enjoyment that he
takes in killing, as he seems to have a twisted sense of justice in taking his revenge. I
suppose that it’s much scarier when a character just enjoys torturing and killing people
than when the character is out for revenge. If you need to see the distinction, I’d
probably refer you to Robert Mitchum’s character in Cape Fear who was the
embodiment of menace, and who enjoyed being menacing.
Even with all the make-up he has on, Haley’s Freddy just isn’t that scary. In fact I
found myself comparing Haley’s performance here with his one-scene performance in
Shutter Island and found that the performance in the latter, though limited to just a few
minutes, was so much more powerful and frightening than his (comparably) extensive
screen time here. This isn’t faulting Haley as an actor (as he has shown that he can be
darn good when given the right material) but pointing to how the construction of a
horror film doesn’t depend on just having a scary monster/killer/slasher but rather
creating a sense of fear for both the characters and for the viewers.
Another thing that bothered me was this film’s sense of justice, or general lack
of it. In the original Krueger kills kids, he is unlawfully killed and then he comes back to
just keep killing. Then we have a character who was fueled by sadism and psychotic/
sociopathic tendencies that are just so powerful that they transcend even death, which
is a frightening thing indeed.
But in the update (POSSIBLE SPOILER ALERT) we have a character killed for
molesting kids. His memory is repressed by the kids, and while there in their collective
memory he festers and waits until he is powerful enough to get his revenge on the kids.
For what? For having told their parents that he was molesting them. This just seems
like a sad victimization, and really makes me feel like there’s a meanness to the film
that I couldn’t care for.
Sure the first film is mean, but then it’s mean because you have a genuinely
crazy character who just won’t die and finds a way to keep killing. Here you have a
child molester who comes back from the grave to kill the kids he molested. It’s a
double-victimization of these characters that just doesn’t sit well with me. He has
already molested them, now he gets to come back and do more terrible things to these
kids.
What I’m looking for, I guess, is that moralist angle to horror, which I feel (and as
Stephen King too points out, as he says that horror is the most moralist genre) is
missing. I want my characters to deserve to die. I want them to have done something
to justify Freddy’s stalking and killing them. But as it is, all they did was get molested
and try to repress that molestation in their subconscious.
On the level of concept and script Nightmare on Elm Street is problematic. There
are touches here that show potential, but not enough to make it feel like a big
sustained piece of horror, let alone have it measure up to the original. It is competent in
setting up some scares, but these are the kind of scares that we can see in pretty
much every slasher flick. There’s nothing distinctive here, nothing to make it stand out
in our thoughts, let alone in our dreams.
Post-Apocalyptic as the Neo-Western(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net)
An inquiry into the potential of Post-Apocalyptic films to take on the mantle of Westerns in the exploration of common themes about humanity in the face of a hostile environment
The Dying Western
The Western has been a staple film genre since the earliest days of the art form.
Even though there is a relative dearth of Westerns produced, it still maintains its spot in
the AFI top 100 films, despite the emergence of other genres that are more vibrant in
production.
When I think of the last great Western, the movie that comes to mind
immediately is Unforgiven. The Eastwood-helmed film serves not only as a Western,
but also as a post-modern commentary on Westerns, as it explores the framework and
trappings of the genre while simultaneously providing a superior work. But in recent
years, while there have been some films that have ventured back to the Wild West,
such as the fun popcorn flick 3:10 to Yuma, the power and appeal of the Western as a
genre has generally waned in the face of scif and fantasy epics, slasher flicks, and
small, quiet dramas.
In fact, to most young viewers, when asked to name film genres the Western
probably won’t even come up. And if it does, it is inevitably connected to
homosexuality, thanks to Brokeback Mountain. There is a double-irony to be observed
in this kind of relation that is established. Brokeback Mountain finds some of its power
in emasculating one of the icons of masculinity, the cowboy. And yet, the contemporary
younger viewer misses the irony of this emasculation, because they are unaware of the
stereotypical image of the macho cowboy.
It is rather safe to say that the Western may be in its last throes, the equivalent
perhaps of a senior in a nursing home, visited once in a while by their offspring and
those that still remember them fondly, but generally avoided by the younger kids
because they smell old. And of course, because they aren’t cool. Indeed what appeal
has the lone gunslinger now, the Man with No Name on the ridge with the cigar and
poncho, the valiant sheriff who faces a band of outlaws at high noon?
Even going beyond the idea that most people don’t have a sense of that history
(indeed how much do we Filipinos know of that, our own cultural consciousness of it
being reflected by the long-extinct Pancit Westerns and not much else) and
considering that the Maverick as a stereotype has been painted so negatively in
contemporary culture (we are always promoting fitting in, individuality but only in terms
of expression but not a true, personal moral code that wavers from the socially
acceptable), how are younger viewers to take seriously a genre that has always had a
decidedly macho stance when their immediate referent has them recalling images of
Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal frolicking in the fields?
And yet I will argue that we need Westerns. Within the parameters of the
Western genre we see, admittedly portrayals of patriarchy, but also the portrayal of
numerous values that seem to be lost. The contemporary settings which we have are
hotbeds of ambiguity, where we see the grays, where the lines of good and evil, right
and wrong are always shifting. But in the sunburst backdrops, in the prairies and the
deserts, the saloons and brothels, the sheriff’s office and the town hall, the distinctions
between these things are easier to distinguish. And even when we have a maverick, or
a Robin Hood-type, a righteous outlaw, we know on which side we are meant to fall.
We see in Westerns extensions of the values of chivalry, the need to help the
weak who cannot fend for themselves, the constant moral questioning that that setting
provides. For what are Westerns but exhibitions of people in a hostile land, devoid of
formal government, trying to make their way. Decency is most often punished (usually
by bandits or other bad guys), weakness most often taken advantage of. And it is up to
the good to protect the decent and the weak, often taking a toll on the good, as they
are forced to adopt the evil’s methods to protect the decent and weak.
The Western speaks of the uncharted frontier, a chaotic land filled with hostiles
(bandits, Indians, thieves, and the list goes on) and the people who are trying to
establish a life there. Without formal government and formal social structures, stripped
of social conventions and social norms, we have people who either slip into savagery
or who hold on doggedly, heroically, to their humanity. And it is in these traits that one
can find commonalities with the Post-Apocalyptic setting.
The Post-Apocalyptic Possibilities
Post-apocalyptic settings can be wildly varied, from a Waterworld to a robot
dominated Terminator or Matrix to post-zombie apocalypse settings, to the usual
barren, desolate wastelands that we have come to see more and more often. What
they all do have in common (with each other as well as with Westerns) is that they have
people trying to make a life in a world where the old rules, the old social structures are
gone. It is up to the people to define how they will live, and they are always under
constant threat from the environment and from human threats that would take
advantage of them.
It is here then that we see that the Western may be dying, but there is a chance
for its spirit and its values to be passed on to a genre that is more relevant to
contemporary viewers. Indeed, Westerns began just as the Wild West was being
tamed, and thus their appeal to that generation. Today’s viewers, on the other hand,
have no consciousness of that world, except for what they have gotten through media
(and what little that is, all things considered), but constant in our minds is the prospect
of an Extinction Level Event, in all of its various incarnations, whether it come from
global warming, a killer virus, earthquakes, tidal waves, nuclear war, zombies, or a
hostile Singularity.
Ahead of the curve by a few years, as he usually is, is Joss Whedon with the
much-loved but quickly-axed Firefly. Here we see the Space-Western, a seamless
integration of two genres. While it is set off-world though, Whedon’s Firefly universe
wasn’t too focused on post-apocalypse, but rather in portraying space and terra-
formed planets as a new frontier, turning the outer planets into the Wild West.
To clarify, Firefly portrays a kind of apocalypse. In its mythology the Earth could
not sustain and man took to the stars. Its focus though, is on how man handles taking
over many planets in the universe. Like the movement west in the 19th century, we see
people making establishments and trying to make lives for themselves. What Firefly
further portrays is the relationship between the Alliance and the outer planets.
In the larger scheme of things, Firefly presents us a world where the Core
planets are more technologically advanced. Their proximity to the center makes aid
easier and we see that the privileges, both political and personal, on these planets are
vastly different from the outer planets. This works as a direct referent to what we see
today, in Third World politics, where the Core in our contemporary case would be the
First World Countries, while the periphery would be the Third World countries. The
obvious impositions made by the hegemony are likewise observed in both instances,
as we come to a Firefly universe where the Alliance has taken control of and subdued
the Independents, or Browncoats.
Former Browncoats lead a ragtag crew through their adventures. We observe
here Captain Mal Reynolds, portrayed by Nathan Fillion, as a successor to Han Solo,
with Solo himself a charming rogue who finds his place fighting on the side of right.
Further we observe the values of individuality, non-conformity, and questioning of a
hegemony as parts of the show’s main themes. “People don’t like to be meddled with,”
and “They a im to misbehave,” two cruc ia l tag l ines f rom the fi lm
adaptation Serenity both make reference to this rugged individuality that one must
possess to survive in the frontier, outside of the gaze of normal society.
But where the Firefly universe shows us a setting very similar to both
contemporary Third World politics and the American westward expansion by showing
us other galaxies and the dynamics between planets, we see also the potential in
newer post-apocalyptic films that are set firmly on Earth, exploring how people deal
with the immediate effects of a cataclysmic event.
Two recent films in particular, The Road and The Book of Eli consistently
question the toll that a post-apocalyptic world takes on humans and their humanity.
Though of distinctly different visual styles, both portray the formation of roving bands
of marauders and a rule of the land defined by ferocity and violence.
Similarly, both films have us follow characters whose moral boundaries are
challenged.
In The Road we see a protagonist who, in surviving the apocalypse and having
to protect his son, has his moral code regularly questioned. He finds himself redefining
his own limitations of what he is willing to do in order to protect and provide for his
son. We observe the interactions with fellow humans to be regularly hostile, as there is
no formal sense of government and people wander around lost. Though we are never
shown a rebuilding, the film shows the values of the young (in particular the
protagonist’s son) important, as it is these values that will define how the world will be
rebuilt. The constant moral questioning that happens between father and son and their
interactions with other travelers leaves both the characters and the viewers wondering
at what kind of world can be built, and if there is a sense of goodness that can exist in
such a ravaged world.
The Book of Eli, is decidedly more of a Western, as its visual style and themes
draw directly from classic Westerns. And thus it serves as a great template for the
potential of the post-apocalyptic film to explore what a rebuild society would look like.
Set 30 years after the ELE, it still has marauders and wild people on the road, but also
towns that have been established and we see that there is a clear rebuilding process
that is happening. It is here that the film flourishes, as it shows the moral and ethical
questions that are made in rebuilding society, asking what kind of leaders one should
have and how one should lead. While the film isn’t as powerful as it could be, it serves
as a clear template for the potential of future films that may follow it.
Where to Now?
While other films worry about the machines that might enslave us, or the viruses
that might get us, the stories of our humanity are to be found in those films that show
people trying to rebuild society. Indeed if the rule of the road is kill or be killed, how
does one survive without being a killer? If one is to preserve humanity, to build a
humane society in such a hostile environment and hostile world, what kind of actions
must be taken?
We see, then, with those questions, that there is a clear intersection between the
themes and ideas that both the Western and the post-apocalyptic film explore.
Considering the popularity of the post-apocalyptic film at the international level, one
can ask, will this setting begin to make its way into Filipino film? I doubt it will, at least
in major studio efforts. But it would be interesting to see the Filipino’s take on such a
situation, and on how Filipinos would view how our society would restructure itself in
the aftermath of an apocalyptic event.
Films and Piracy
(This essay was submitted to .MOV festival’s journal in 2011.)
Here’s the challenge: go to a big bricks-and-mortar DVD store (or store that sells
DVDs) and pick up copies of Truffaut’s The 400 Blows, Fellini’s 8 1/2, Kurosawa’s
Seven Samurai and a movie by either Buster Keaton or Charlie Chaplin.
If you can do this, then the world, or at least the world of retail DVD sales in the
Philippines, has changed. If not, then things are as they were, and will likely be for a
long time. And this is precisely why what is considered piracy will continue and
proliferate. This will go on no matter how many times and in how many iterations we
are bombarded with messages against “camcording” or copying of files or anything of
the like.
Cultural tastes are fragmented. There is a dominant taste, that of the masa, which
defines mainstream television, film, and radio. But outside of the big hits of the largely
homogenous mainstream there are many different niche markets. And at present these
markets are largely serviced only by pirated DVDs and illegal digital downloads.
The easy acquisition, reliable availability, and social acceptance of pirated DVDs
and digital downloads are so pronounced that we use these to describe the quality of
films. How so? When you ask someone if a film is good, they might tell you, “Oo pang-
sinehan (Yes, you should watch it in the theater).” This means that they found the film
to be a filmic experience, good enough to be worth the price of a ticket as well as a trip
to the theater. If they weren’t too pleased but thought it was ok “I-download mo, ok
naman (Download it, it’s okay.). This connotes that it’s worth the time and effort to find
a torrent and download it, but not really good enough to shell money out for. If
someone really loved a film, they might call it, “Pang-orig,” which means that it’s so
good they believe they need to own an original copy of it in their personal collection.
But if the person you’re asking thinks the movie is pretty bad, not worth watching but
something you might watch anyway, they’ll tell you, “Pirated mo na lang (Just buy the
pirated.).
Indeed the way that we view audio-visual media is in a process of great
transformation. Entertainment is cheap and relatively free on youtube, television is
undergoing changes as the model of commercial breaks distributed through the length
of an episode is being challenged, and the way that we view films is changing to suit
the viewer more than the vision of the filmmaker. Never mind the filmic vision of David
Lynch (who has voiced his disapproval of the various media his films can be viewed in)
and other auteurs, we can watch something in IMAX, in our living rooms, or in the
palms of our hands.
Previously we encountered problems with pirated DVDs. Some of these problems
still exist of course. Sometimes the pirated disc doesn’t work, it stops, or it goes
wrong. There are funnier times when the content of the disc isn’t what you paid for.
There’s also the sometimes questionable quality of copies at times (which DVD sellers
are often very honest about, “camera pa lang” for those shot with a camera in the
theater, screeners which were leaked, “ngongo” for discs whose visuals are good but
whose sound is compromised, etc). But more often than not, the quality of pirated DVD
sales have increased, some of them becoming so good that there are what have come
to be called Blue-Ray DVDs, which are DVDs which were copied off of Blu-Ray discs.
Along with the good (and sometimes superior) video quality, our pirated DVDs often
have the bonus features of original DVDs.
Contrast how potentially and often how actually good pirated DVDs can be with
how potentially bad original DVDs can be. Little problems like certain special features
not being on the disc even though they are listed on the box can be an annoyance. But
an obviously bigger problem is the video quality of some original DVDs, which look like
VCDs or have even lower resolution than VCDs. My funniest experience with buying an
original DVD was when I picked up a copy of James Cameron’s True Lies, a movie I
enjoyed as a kid, and would have enjoyed a lot more if there were care taken in its DVD
conversion. Instead I got something with cheap video quality, with the edges of the
picture cut off, and most laughably, it was hard-subbed in bad Filipino, such that a
snappy exchange where one character says “Blow me!” is transliterated to “Hipan mo
ako.” This is just unforgivable, and it’s an embarrassment. If there were any argument
for eschewing paying more for original DVDs that is better than watching True Lies, I
have yet to find one. Which is to say that local original DVD sellers are sometimes
peddling crap (okay, they are often peddling crap movies, but here we refer to the
quality of the DVD conversions) and driving us towards piracy. And again, I am only
speaking here of DVD quality, and not of selection.
Still, let’s acknowledge that the local DVD stores have made attempts to address
the problem of DVD piracy. The pricing has become more competitive at least, with
original DVDs going for as low as P99, or sometimes buy-one-get-one for P150. When
we download movies, it feels like we are getting them for free, but we are spending
money on our internet connections, electricity, use of computer, and when you think
about it, the time that we spend on the act of downloading offsets the cost of buying.
So I propose that while pirated films are cheap and cheaper than original DVDs, there
isn’t that large a difference in the cost to truly drive people to pirated. It also makes me
believe that if original DVDs could get their act together, then piracy could be stopped.
If we set aside the issues of quality which we have identified, and assume that pirated
and original DVDs are of the same quality with maybe a twenty to thirty peso price
difference, then we can see where the pirated films really have the upper hand.
And that upper hand, I’ll argue, is content.
DVD and home viewing adhere to the concept of the Long Tail. In Long Tail
economics, we have a business model where big hits are at the top, or the head of the
graph. But as we track down the sales, we see that after the big head (lots of
purchases of major hits) the sales curve downward and never hit zero, but keep
showing hits. This leads to the assumption that anything on the internet will be bought/
downloaded/read at least once, as the Long Tail means that the graph never hits zero.
It also means that while a small number of products (say Justin Bieber or Glee CDs,
The Da Vinci Code or the Twilight series, or big Hollywood movie DVDs) will rake in the
biggest sales, the rest of the tail is enough to sustain niche markets.
These niche markets are precisely what pirated DVDs and illegal digital
downloads service. While major DVD sellers peddle the latest big Hollywood flicks, the
same movies that you could find in the theaters, and those same movies are peddled
too by most illegal DVD sellers as well, and those big flicks also have the most seeds in
illegal digital downloads, when viewers with different and niche tastes start looking for
films, they cannot find them in the mainstream and legal modes of acquisition.
There are some pretty clear and simple explanations for this. The most significant
things we can look at are the limitations of availability and stock. When Hollywood
churns out a big picture release, there’s massive marketing push and solid distribution
channels behind it. Thus in every branch of legal stores you can find those DVDs.
But going into back catalogues like, say, the Criterion collection, or trying to find
newly released foreign-language films, it becomes extremely difficult to make these
available. Another problem is stocking these in stores. With the limitations of shelf
space in relation to the amount of money that could be potentially made on each DVD,
stores will more naturally choose for DVDs that will be sold, rather than DVDs that will
display a certain level of mastery and great filmmaking. Hence the great ease with
which one can find copies of Snakes on a Plane.
Piracy on the other hand, sidesteps a lot of the issues of shelf space and the
exorbitant overhead costs that legitimate DVD sellers must incur. Thus they can afford
to carry less popular titles. And in the process they wind up catering to a niche market,
not the large market that is needed to sustain a large legitimate DVD store chain, but
large enough to make their servicing of the niche market a sustainable business. And
so I have a place I go to regularly when I want to find those foreign-language flicks, and
I know where I can get classic Hollywood films if I want them.
This problem of stock is addressed even more easily by digital downloads, where
through P2P sharing and torrents one can find a vibrant online community willing to
share films for free. And though the collection of people online isn’t complete by any
means (for what collection really can be?), it is substantial enough that most of the
movies you look for can be found, in some way or other. Which again means that with
quality being pretty much equal, the availability offered by extra-legal means makes it
the clear choice, for the simple reason that the extra-legal means are more likely to
have what you want.
Now I believe that there are some ways we can deal with piracy. In first world
countries video streaming and digital download and subscription opportunities are
available to viewers. Services such as Netflix and Hulu offer not only the big hits, but
also have in their servers films and TV series which appeal to the various niche markets
and subcultures that bricks-and-mortar stores ignore. The cost of a Netflix monthly
account doesn’t differ too much from a cable subscription (even with the recent
increase in prices). I, and a number of people I know, would we willing to pay this cost.
However the service, and other streaming services, are unavailable to Filipinos in the
Philippines (Okay, so despite the region-blocking that happens, Filipinos still find ways
to work around it, such as using VPNs to fool the system into believing that your ISP
address is somewhere in America. But if they made the service available to us
legitimately, then we would not have to resort to that). The principle in getting people to
pay for content that they could get for free is making the paid content easier to get
than the pirated stuff, and offering it at a reasonable price. Without a legitimate means
to acquire the paid content, then film-lovers are left with no options except piracy.
If you want to stop piracy, well it won’t happen. If someone wants to pirate work,
someone wants to get it for free, there’s no stopping them, sorry. If someone has
absolutely no plans of spending money on content, there’s no way that you can get
them to. However, those kinds of people are outliers more than the norm if you
establish distribution models that serve more things to more people. If you want to
lessen piracy, then make the original content more accessible to people. Which is to
say that blocking third world countries from entertainment services because of the
rampant piracy in the country gets the opposite of the intended effect. Make it harder
to get the content and you make piracy the better choice.
Beyond the availability of DVDs in stores and streaming and downloading
services, there are other limitations we must contend with. At present bandwidth is
extremely expensive, and with the arrival of data-capping (the term is something telcos
are trying to avoid, but they are already doing it and trying to implement it even more
aggressively) this will only further drive us away from streaming services. The large
masses of data involved in streaming or downloading one film are massive (700MB or
thereabouts for an AVI, but as you increase the video quality the films run up into the
GBs) and thus become prohibitive. So people will avoid streaming and other services
that gobble up their bandwidth and will still choose instead to download files, even if
these come at limited speeds.
People want their content. The question lies in how they will get it. If someone
wants to pirate something, then they will pirate it. But if you make it easy for them to
buy, and make the prices reasonable, then you can begin to make a viewership that will
have more respect for the product, and will be more willing to pay for the product.
We can solve many problems by adopting new about film sales and distribution.
The first of these is that piracy is something that will always be a part of the industry,
now that it is so easy to make copies. Piracy is not as criminal and evil as we have
been led to believe, but rather it should be seen as an act of resistance against the
dominant forces of the record and film industry. It speaks against the exorbitant costs
of original copies of the content. Next, piracy serves as a subversion against the
imposition of mainstream tastes on niche cultures, as it allows viewers access to films
that fall outside of the dominant modes of viewing. So we must live with piracy and
create cultural products that take piracy into account. We must design these products,
these distribution channels, and the physical and digital media, in such ways that they
would be preferable to the pirated versions. This means going beyond just the price
points, because legitimate producers cannot compete with pirated versions. It means
examining the quality of the product, the range of choices available to viewers, and
creating for viewers a system that provides them with the greatest number of titles, the
easiest ways to watch titles, and a reasonable cost to engage the system.
Which is to say at the cost of a monthly cable subscription, I want to be able to
turn on my TV, log onto a site, and on a whim, start playing The 400 Blows, 8 1/2,
Seven Samurai, and City Lights in glorious high-def digital video.
TELEVISION
How do you watch TV?
(I started writing this essay as a short think piece on where television was going. Then it exploded into this lengthy overview and lots of ideas, which I wound up submitting for an MA Class.)
This question might have been considered absurd a decade ago. After all, at the
turn of the century the only real question was whether you had cable or not, and
maybe which cable provider you were using. But with the proliferation of digital media,
the affordability of the DVD player (being more of a mainstay than even VHS was, and
quickly usurping the short-lived reigns of both laserdisc and VCD), the cheap and easy
access to TV series in DVD format, online options for downloading to your hard drive to
watch at your leisure or watch via streaming, and the impending arrival of affordable
DVRs, this becomes an important question. Not only has this technology changed the
way that we consume and perceive television as a form of entertainment, but it has
important impact on the development of television as an art form.
I began thinking about the changing nature of television when I asked a friend if
she was watching the latest season of Chuck. She said that she was waiting for the
season to end, then she would do a marathon-viewing of it. And I started thinking
about my own viewing habits.
I had to watch the latest episode of Lost every week (before my friends started
texting me spoilers, like Lost blogger Adam David who regularly texted me things like,
“Everyone dies!” the dynamics of this, the need to watch the latest episodes and the
avoidance of friends who have when you haven’t, to be discussed later in this essay),
while there are series like House whose episodes I can allow to pile up after a few
weeks and breeze through in one sitting. My own wait-til-the-season-is-over-to-watch
series was 24. That show, despite its regular absurdity, made cliffhangers so darn good
I couldn’t bear to wait a week.
And thus arises this new subjective nature of TV viewing. We, as viewers and
consumers, can now define how we experience television, which was not necessarily
the case before.
The Yoke of Scheduling
One of the definitive aspects of TV before digital media was that we were, in
essence, slaves to it. We did not dictate when our favorite shows would air, we could
not control what episode we would watch or when we would have to watch a rerun. If
we had a party, an engagement, or a meeting, we had no choice but to miss that new
episode and hope that we could catch a rerun of it sometime soon. Further we would
have to hope that nothing substantial or important happened in that episode that we
were going to miss.
We were at the mercy of TV and whoever set the schedules. We were also at the
mercy of sports events, special announcements, and other things that might interrupt
regular viewing schedules. I remember one hellish summer in California where regular
TV programming was replaced by the OJ Simpson trial on every channel, when all I
wanted to watch was Gilligan’s Island.
Even more susceptible to scheduling and at the mercy of TV execs were series,
whose shelf lives were not merely defined by the quality of the show but also by the
ratings. And the ratings of a show could be greatly affected by its airing schedule. One
need look no further than the much-loved but quickly cancelled Firefly which suffered
from the double whammy of being ahead of its time in terms of the material it was
trying to exhibit (but oh how exuberant and fun that was) and then having had terrible
screening schedules that all but ensured low ratings.
Aside from erratic schedules, one also has to consider the competition on other
channels. Imagine coming up with an amazing show in the 90s, but being told that you
would be airing at the same time as the Friends/Seinfeld power hour. Or in more recent
years starting a cop show that would have to go head to head against CSI. Or the
Monday night (in the US anyway) head to head between House/24 on one channel and
Chuck/Heroes on another.
As a viewer, you would be forced to choose which show you would watch, in
effect, missing another show, and possibly killing it. This set a great limitation,
considering the choice primetime slots and the need to choose only one show per time
slot to watch. This would have been fine in earlier times with fewer choices (or say on a
local level where, as far as local TV viewers are concerned you are Kapamilya or
Kapuso, these terms coming to embody an identity for the viewership, creating a kind
of brand loyalty in relation to cultural consumption), but with so many choices out there
it meant that you might be missing out on something that you would probably really
enjoy and love, because you were stuck watching something else, which you already
enjoyed and loved.
Breaking the Yoke
Digital media has broken the yoke established by the old network television
paradigm. You don’t have to stay at home for it. You missed it? Hey you can catch it
via streaming. Or you really liked it? You can download the episode (one wonders when
such a service will become available locally via iTunes, as this would probably help to
combat the piracy that they are trying to prevent by not selling entertainment media on
iTunes) and watch it on your own time.
This means then, that the limitation of time is broken. No longer must you follow
the schedules as established by the networks. And you no longer need to choose
which show to watch in a given time slot, as you can watch both those shows at your
own chosen time.
This further means that you can watch shows that are cancelled or shows that
are years or even decades old, all this media and culture available as long as you have
the technology to play it. We are no longer confined to what’s on TV, no longer stuck
with whatever shows are being shown.
If we had shows that we loved that were cancelled, or that were old, then all we
could do to see them in the old broadcasting paradigm was hope that they would
come out in syndication on cable. In my lost years (a period I refer to as lost because I
was in high school, often kicked out of the house or passed out somewhere drunk,
cultural enrichment in the form of film and television escaping me as I dealt with
adolescence and family trauma), Star Trek: Voyager aired and I missed it all. My only
chance to see it was during its reruns on the Hallmark channel which were at times
when I was usually out drunk somewhere. But with access to digital media, we can all
have access to shows that we missed.
Never before have we had so much access to so much good television. A friend
raved about The Shield when it was running, but since it was already in its third season
by then, it was too late for me to catch up. But now I can pick it all up on DVD. Same
with such greats that started airing during those aforementioned lost years, such as
The Sopranos or The Wire.
Thanks to re-releases on DVD, online streaming, and downloadable media, we
can get shows from all over. A personal favorite, Brit show Spaced feels like a show
that everyone should have watched, but it came at a rather obscure time, the dominant
on our own networks being reruns of Ally McBeal and Friends or comedies like
Palibhasa Lalake and Okay Ka Fairy Ko, all a far cry from the humor and witty po-mo
referencing of Spaced. Further, British television wasn’t something that was available to
us at the time, and still is, at the moment, a niche interest in this country. Its recent re-
release on DVD was a celebration for fans and a great opportunity for everyone else to
see it since some of the people who worked on the show, namely Nick Frost, Simon
Pegg, and Edgar Wright, have all attained commercial Hollywood success.
This breathes new life and new interest into a decade-old series, and is
something that we can assume would benefit other shows such as Freak and Geeks,
now that its co-creator Judd Apatow, as well as a lot of the series’ cast, have become
Hollywood mainstays.
And Asian series as well as local teleseryes are getting in on the re-releasing act.
This means an availability of shows from all over the world for viewers. Whether one
would want to sit through a DVD collecting local teleseryes would of course be a
matter of taste, but seeing as to how there is a congruence between our tastes and
those of our Asian neighbors this could mean a whole new way of looking at local
television production beyond the radyo-inspired eight-month-long daily screening
lifespans which they currently follow now.
(To address the question of whether one would want to sit through a whole
season’s worth of a local teleserye in the marathon manner that some of us watch
Battlestar Galactica or Firefly, I did as part of a research sit through a whole season of
Pinoy Big Brother in a span of two days. While you may argue that PBB is a reality
show, I do believe that it is the distillation of the Filipino teleserye, all the elements one
looks for present there, and presented in the prism of reality, with a nice voyeuristic
touch to it. It is, I maintain, a matter of taste. This material may well appeal to our Asian
neighbors, as much as their content appeals to a lot of Filipinos. On my end however,
halfway through my first day of viewing I wanted to put my head through a wall just so
that it would all stop, only being able to steady myself and endure the rest of it by
assuring myself that this was all in the service of art, literature, and the pursuit of
knowledge.)
Ongoing shows have benefited from DVD releases as well. The aforementioned
Chuck owes its second and third season renewals just as much to its DVD sales as to
its Save Chuck online campaigns. Networks are realizing that it’s not merely big ratings
when a show airs that defines the show’s profitability, but also fans’ willingness to pay
for downloads and DVD releases that collect the series’ recently aired season.
Thus, shows that have small, loyal followings are making more of a difference
now than ever before. Ratings are no longer the sole measuring stick for a show’s
popularity, but downloads and DVD sales help to influence a show’s life, and in this
sense the consumer has more power than before, getting to vote for his favorite show
not only by watching it when it first airs, but by buying the show and having the
opportunity to watch it over and over.
The changing, shifting nature of how to gauge a show’s popularity and
profitability will be something to watch out for, as the parameters are still being defined.
And one cannot help but muse at the shows that might have been saved had this more
inclusive “ratings” gauge been employed then. For example, the immensely enjoyable
and re-watchable episodes of Arrested Development sold on DVD and available for
download, coupled with a strong online campaign for the show, might have saved the
show from its early demise, had the reconfigured ratings system been in play at that
time.
An even newer phenomenon adding to this gauging of popularity are the sales
being generated by Glee and American Idol. Songs performed on both shows generate
numerous downloads, and they expose young viewers to older music, causing
renewed interest in older musicians who would not have gotten such exposure. For all
of the classic rock stations in the world, on radio and online, none of them can
generate from the youth an interest in a power ballad as well as usage in an episode of
Glee.
In a memorable scene from 30 Rock (which I can rewatch as much as I want
now that they are selling for only P200 per season!), Tracy Jordan says, “Treat every
week like it’s shark week.” And thanks to digital media we can do precisely that. We
can define time and consumption. We don’t have to wait for Shark Week, we can just
pop in the Shark DVDs whenever we feel like it.
This new freedom has, of course, its own repercussions in terms of how we
experience television, and how we share our television experiences with others.
Water cooler culture and its death
In The Long Tail (to which this essay owes a lot, many of the ideas being
explored here extensions of certain things asserted there) Chris Anderson discusses
water cooler culture and the death of water cooler culture.
Water cooler culture is defined as the talk that occurs around the office water
cooler. We may not have a quick and easy identical cultural referent, but I think we can
get the idea. It’s the small talk that we make about what we watched last night. You
ask, “Hey did you get to watch _________ show last night?” And since there were only
a few stations and people generally watched the same shows, then you would always
have something to talk about.
It’s not like this has entirely disappeared but it has fragmented. The
pervasiveness of this water cooler culture is gone as more options have become
available and people are defining how they view things more and more.
Perhaps American Idol stands as a semi-communal activity, but only still
speaking to a sub-culture. Locally, there is still much more response to the soaps. But
these soaps don’t yield the mythologizing and theorizing of more complex Western
series. Here we can observe the kinds of discussions that can emerge.
The talk about the soaps will largely be about the plot and recent developments
in the latest episodes, or about the characters and how likable or dislikable they are.
The Western series (not all of course, but the better ones) would allow for discussions
of plot and character, but also of larger possibilities within the series, the drive of the
narrative, and when TV is at its best, theorizing about the various connections to be
found in the series and how it will progress. One can begin examining form, trajectory,
developments, and mythology.
Beyond the limits of the show, viewers are also starting to show interest in
intertextual connections. The intertextuality can be observed both in terms of creators/
writers who are working with other shows, where viewers observe common themes or
ideas being shown (for example JJ Abrams’ stylistics on display in Alias, Lost, and
Fringe), as well as the differences. Guest directors also come in sometimes to make
contributions to shows. Notable examples are Quentin Tarantino writing and directing a
two-hour episode of CSI which bore his trademark dialogue, and Joss Whedon, after
having established his capabilities at directing musicals in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and
Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog directing an episode of Glee. Because of the wealth of
context and viewer familiarity with this content they are ready to make these
connections.
Intertexuality is also enjoyed by viewers when actors make cameos on other
shows, or they show up as characters that are similar to characters from past shows.
Small winks to the audience are made, and in the context of postmodernism playing up
this intertextuality, this adds a real sense of pleasure as well as fun and nostalgia to the
viewer who can read into the referencing. A few examples of this would be Lee Ermey
playing strict military disciplinarian in House, clearly working as an intertextual
reference to his role in Full Metal Jacket, Adam Baldwin playing essentially the same
character in Chuck as he did in Firefly because as Chuck show-runners admit they
were imagining Baldwin and his character Jayne as the inspiration for Major Casey, and
perhaps the most fun referencing, How I Met Your Mother’s use of references to Doogie
Howser, M.D., where they have Neil Patrick Harris writing in a journal while the show’s
theme music plays.
The kinds of discussions that one would engage in, which would be defined by
levels of analysis as well as content, would then help to define one’s culture and social
group at present. Our interactions with media help to define us, and because of the
various different markets that media addresses now, this would redefine the kinds of
social groups one would belong to.
My sister spent her week-long vacation from school at home. She decided to
utilize the time watching shows like Chuck and Fringe, watching entire seasons of both
series in that week. She also stopped watching local soaps. When she went back to
school she felt alienated because she had no idea what her friends were talking about.
Afterwards she had to decide which shows to watch, and so she wound up choosing
to go back to watching soaps so that she could still fit into her social group.
Now though, she watches her soaps but has been watching less of them and
more of the Western shows which I watch. Not only that but she has also begun to
seek out friends who watch similar shows and has started to expose her friends to the
shows that we watch together. In reaction to the cultural exposure, she has begun to
influence her peers and get them to watch other things, or to find social groups that
she might fit in based on her newfound tastes.
Cultural Imposition vs. Cultural Adaptation
This could be viewed as a cultural hegemony, an imposition of one culture on
another, because this Western culture is eclipsing the appeal of local television and film
(though it can be argued that while local media addresses the masa in doing so it has
chosen to exclude viewers of other sensibilities, so the appeal of Western culture is
long entrenched in the bourgeois viewership). It can be seen from a post-colonial
perspective as a subconscious deference to the colonizer, that we inevitably find the
colonizer’s work superior to our own. However, one can genuinely argue for the quality
of Western television as better than local television. Production values, story, writing,
developments, acting, and so many other things can be pointed out to show how those
shows from elsewhere do it better.
This deference to superior craft is not the only way that we look to other cultures
in acquiring their media. There are many soap-based crossovers, as other countries
import and translate our soaps to their cultures, while we import and translate and at
times adapt soaps from other Asian and Latin American countries (why developing
countries seem to share the same tastes in soaps and freely adapt one another’s soaps
so readily would be an interesting study in itself). The trend of adaptation makes it clear
that it’s not just the hegemony that transfers its culture, but the developing world
similarly passes on content to each other, taking and adapting as seems to fit better in
that culture.
Adaptation is fine because we see here expressions of both the global and local.
We have shows that have international appeal, have what we could possibly call
universal values, or shows that speak to all types of viewers regardless of nationality.
Then we have these series being localized, adapting to the market and culture of the
country importing it. While one might think this rehashing detrimental to the
development of TV culture, this activity allows for new models to develop and will
hopefully inspire innovation. An example of this, but in film, would be Infernal Affairs, a
very good movie in its own right, being taken by Martin Scorsese and being turned into
the Oscar-winning The Departed.
Where importing can be seen as problematic is when it discourages the
development of new content. For example, it is easier and cheaper to import soaps
from neighboring Asian countries than it is to produce a new series locally. As a result,
there would be less incentive to invest in soaps. Also, there have been numerous failed
attempts at adapting British shows into American series. The Office stands as the
successful Brit to American adaptation, but for that one show there have been so many
other failures.
Thus it’s clear that there is a precarious balancing act between a show’s core
ideas and the culture of the adapting country. The adaptation then, is in itself a creative
act. It’s not merely a change of setting or a renaming of characters, but a re-creation of
the series. Just as much care has to be taken in a cultural adaptation as is given to
successful reboots.
Voting with Our Hard Drives
If we can look beyond the idea of the West as imposing cultural hegemony on
us, then we can consider that this preference for Western series by certain members of
the local culture is a way of voting with our remote controls and our hard drives. We are
unsatisfied with what’s on television, so we buy DVDs and we stream and we
download and we watch other things.
This then makes clear the fragmentation of culture into various subcultures. The
masang Pilipino gets divided between the “big two” while the rest of the viewership
splinters into various subcultures, whose interests were at first represented by choice
of cable channels, and now even further by the shows one downloads and follows.
As such, content begins to address these smaller niche markets. Scifi viewers
will gravitate to some series, while those interested in police procedurals go to others,
and those who like comedies or dramas or other genres can similarly choose what they
will buy or watch. As long as they have access to all of the different shows, which given
enough money (which these days is a relatively manageable amount, with the costs of
bandwidth conforming, if not exceeding the tenets of Moore’s Law) are all within one’s
reach, then each viewer gets to program their own personalized TV networks.
The niche markets give way to subcultures that self-organize based on these
common media interests. Where previously the only subcultures that organized were
those that were marginalized, like say Scifi/Fantasy or Anime/Manga, there is now a
cross-pollination where thanks to availability more popular shows are incorporating
conventions of scifi, fantasy, and viewers who would normally be limited to what’s
shown on network TV are now discovering a lot of genre television.
Recent attempts at genre-crossing series have been hit and miss. Fantastic-
procedural Pushing Daisies was a beautifully-made show but short-lived, Dollhouse’s
scifi coupled with action and drama and the incorporation of various genres in different
episodes was also compelling at times, but did not make it past its second season.
Lost looks to be most successful here, but attempts to replicate it like FlashForward
have paled in comparison. It could also be argued that House has started to mix
genres, and though it still follows its original medical procedural format, it has begun to
pull away from that, most noticeably season six’s focus on the House/Wilson
bromance more than the actual medical cases (where certain episodes didn’t even
focus or bother with a case at all).
Despite the hits and misses, this is all indicative of a wealth of content being
created that a viewer has to choose from. So along with all the back catalog television
releases are all of these new series that are being launched and one is only limited by
the time available to watch all these shows. Here then enters a new dynamic to the
viewing experience.
Spoiler Alert Be Gone
The water cooler culture is gone. We can no longer mass in groups and talk
about the same show because we are watching different shows. So we wind up
gravitating to the group of people who watch similar shows, creating subcultures.
But even within these subcultures the social dynamic is different because you
may all be watching the same shows, but one of you may be watching it on cable, at a
later airing date than is available via streaming. Or another may be waiting for the
season to finish.
As such, there is now a common concept of the spoiler alert (formerly we only
had to worry about it in relation to film, but now we can get these in TV too), because
we may be talking about something that someone else hasn’t watched yet. Also, as a
result, if we haven’t seen the latest episode of a show that we all watch together, we
must, to avoid spoilers and discussions about the episode, avoid our friends from that
subculture.
In discussing an episode with friends one now has to establish if the others are
“updated” or have seen the latest episodes, else they might spoil the events of that
show. With the finale of Lost airing and me not having time yet to watch it, I had to
avoid not only all my friends who had seen it, but also all my social networking sites for
a number of days to ensure that I wouldn’t hear anything about it.
In this sense digital media creates new communities, but it also at times forces
us to avoid one another. We discover friends through message boards, find people we
share interests with from all over the globe. Inevitably we gravitate towards sites,
boards, and groups that reflect our own wavelengths. But if we don’t keep up, then we
have to “unplug” ourselves.
This shows a number of things, in terms of social dynamics. First, and this may
cause some alarm, is that there are cases when we can become more concerned with
not having a show spoiled than we are with maintaining human interactions. Granted
this may seem alarmist, but small instances abound.
For example, I was in a group that was discussing our disappointment at the
Battlestar Galactica finale and two or three people had to leave the table and go do
something else because they didn’t want us to spoil anything, and we were more
excited to discuss the show than to keep these people in our discussion.
Alienating Viewers
We see then that in partaking of this other content, in deciding to watch things
that address our tastes, the local viewership that consumes this niche market content,
are distancing ourselves first from a large part of the local population, and then
possibly from people within the niche market.
It’s already been mentioned that local television seeks to appeal to the masa
and generally leaves viewers who want something more intelligent to cable or other
media. If a viewer decides not to watch local television, then the decision has been
made to distance himself from local culture in favor of Western culture. This could
cause alienation in the viewer, as he will become out of touch with local pop culture (I
am a willing victim of this alienation. To illustrate: At the height of the Hayden Kho/
Katrina Halili scandal, when I was told about it, all I could say was, “Huh? Who?”)
Obviously, viewers such as myself, or those who say, watch only anime, or who
wind up preferring some other content will develop consciousnesses and identities
wildly different from those who consume local television. If the idea of passing on
cultural identity and cultural consciousness and values through mass media occurred
to local media distributors, then they might be concerned with this alienation of a small,
yet influential segment of the population.
Inspiring Aesthetics
It could be argued on one side that once again this is the hegemony exerting
itself on the viewer, it is the imposition of Western values and Western consciousness
on developing countries’ viewers because of their wider ability for distribution. On the
other hand, this can be seen positively as a kind of transcendence, beyond the
localized views and limitations portrayed in local television to a more global
consciousness, a higher aesthetic demand being displayed by viewers.
And if, through digital media, more viewers can gain access to better television,
then this could be seen as an opportunity for improvement in terms of content. Local
television has contented itself with small steps in terms of development, to ensure that
they maintain their viewership. This means limited innovation and invention.
The excuse has been that viewers don’t want to be challenged. So the stations
produce material that is not challenging. But if you never challenge them, how will you
ever know that they don’t want to be challenged? But why would you challenge them
if they are happy with the product they are being given? There is really no incentive for
local television to deviate from its tried and tested formulas. They sell, and to deviate
would take risks that might not pay off. So obviously we cannot expect local television
producers to initiate this change.
What can happen, through the availability of content through digital media, is
our local audiences can be tested without local television having to take risks. With
internet access becoming ubiquitous, and with the availability of content both online
and from legal and not-so-legal sources, local audiences can be exposed to media
from other countries.
It is my hope that this exposure will produce positive results. If this were to be
viewed negatively, one could say that this is me hoping that we start aping the West,
that I just want us to copy the content of the West rather than develop our own
content.
On the contrary, I think that once local audiences have more exposure to better
television content, they will start to demand better quality. It’s not taking the ideas,
themes, and stories from other countries and implanting them into our own (though a
look at a lot of television content shows we’re doing a lot of that anyway) but the idea
that upon witnessing how good television can be, we can wind up aspiring to create
television that is just as good, just as compelling, but television that tells our stories.
I’m not asking that we make Lost, or The Wire, or The Big Bang Theory but with
Filipino characters. Rather we aspire to make television that is just as compelling, that
is just as broad and engaging, but that is uniquely Filipino. It would be a Filipino TV
driven not only by the dominant aesthetics of the Pinoy teleserye, nor a bastardized
Western aesthetic imposed on local television, but a newly imagined Filipino television
aesthetic, inspired by having watched and seen how good television can be and
desiring our television to be just as good.
Digital Changes Dynamics
Thus far we’ve discussed television in its general terms, taking a wide-angle
view of how digital is changing the viewing experience. Now we begin to dolly in on our
subject and examine how digital is changing the dynamics of television content, and
what effects these changes could have. As with any art there is an interplay between
form and content, and as the form of consumption changes, then the content is given
new opportunities to develop accordingly. Here we begin to ask, what do the new ways
of viewing allow for?
First off we consider what TV was designed to do. It was built on a model where
content creation and distribution were subsidized by advertising in the form of
commercials. By creating content that entices viewers to keep tuning in, shows build
up a viewership that attracts advertisers. It entertains people and sells ad space.
Alternatively, one could approach it from the opposite angle and say that it is content
that is created so that people will watch ads.
Either way, up until now, television and advertising time have been inextricably
linked. When you watch TV, you also watch commercials.
Exceptions exist, of course. There is content that follows a different model,
particularly those series that air on cable, publicly funded television, or government
funded television. But for the most part, the bulk of television entertainment that is
produced and consumed is still based on the paradigm of ad-selling commercials
wedged between blocks of content.
Commercial Integration
The normal hour-long episode will be designed to integrate these commercial
breaks. This is probably best seen and best executed in 24, where even the amount of
time that commercials take is factored into the show’s narrative. But almost all shows
are written and work within the paradigm of integrating breaks.
How does this affect shows? The goal is to keep viewers from straying from
your channel. There is always the temptation for viewers, thanks to the remote control
(and perhaps it’s even worth mentioning the technology that allows us to display
multiple channels at once), to jump to another channel and see what’s going on there,
instead of sitting through commercials while waiting for the show you’re watching to
come back on.
Obviously, if people are jumping to other channels then it defeats the purpose of
selling ad time. Thus, there are two options, either penalize them for switching to other
channels or give them incentive to not change the channel.
Both of these are accomplished effectively by writing mini-cliffhangers within
episodes. Right before a commercial break the writers drop one of these intra-episode-
WTF moments. It keeps you there because you can’t miss a frame when the show
comes back from commercial break. You don’t want to risk straying to another channel
for fear of missing how the scene will be resolved.
If one takes the time to observe these aspects of the form, it becomes apparent
that effective television maximizes its dramatic effects by playing with these breaks.
When these are integrated into the episode well, they enhance drama through the
creation of suspense, a perfectly calibrated suspense that serves both the commercial
function of the show as well as the artistic aspects.
Breaks Eliminated
What happens when you can effectively remove commercial breaks? We’ve
seen how this is effective on cable series that don’t conform to the form that integrates
commercial breaks. We get a more filmic experience, we get longer shots, and not so
much propulsion towards big significant moments. It’s as if the content is allowed to
breathe, to expand, because it has been freed of the need to keep viewers hooked and
watching commercials.
But again, those series were built on a different model than standard television.
We can, however, watch most shows while bypassing ads now, thanks to digital media
and the internet. We have access to shows via streaming, digital downloads, and DVD,
which all eliminate the commercials that pay for the cost of the series.
We see here changes in two things, the economic model on which television is
built, and a possible change in the way that television can be written.
New Ad Models
First, considering that the economic model was based on selling ad time, how
can these shows be sustained if no one is watching these ads? The easiest answer is
something that film has been doing a lot, product placement.
Product placement can be a terribly ugly thing when it isn’t thought about and
integrated properly into the content. It can seem obtrusive, unnecessary, calling
attention to itself, which would repel viewers from the product. On the other hand, it
can also be totally ignored or left unnoticed, if it is slipped in but not important to the
film. As mentioned in the book Buyology, there was massive product placement in
Casino Royale but no one can really remember what product was being endorsed
(Sony gadgets, in case you’re wondering).
However, intelligent product placement integrates the product into shows where
the characters would conceivably use such products, so these seem neither obtrusive
nor forced. Chuck and Morgan on Chuck are always playing Xbox. Makes sense,
because they are a couple of video game geeks. Olivia Dunham has a sleek Samsung
business phone in Fringe. And The Big Bang Theory’s Penny is a waitress who works
at The Cheesecake Factory.
We can expect to see then, more product placement in television. This will
necessarily change character, setting, and other elements, as creators and advertisers
become more conscious of integrating products into series to subsidize the costs of
production and effectively market products.
This may also mean less commercial time in standard broadcasts, as the
commercial is effectively integrated into the content. There is of course the fear that a
show starts to feel like a very long commercial for one product or other, but as this
trend continues I believe that content creators will be savvier in their product
placement and in making sure that the product placement is woven seamlessly into the
characters and story; the key will be to make product placement that never feels like
product placement but will inspire brand loyalty. Viewers identify with characters, and if
a character practices brand loyalty to something, then this could be effectively used to
market a product. This might even be a better marketing tool than the commercial.
Where this works for local television is still a very open-ended question. The
majority of our ads have to do with shampoo, laundry detergent, and canned or instant
food. We also don’t have a very subtle or developed sense of product placement either.
We are well aware of which artistas endorse which brands because of the blatant
product plugging that they do both as guests of shows (which would be fine) and even
in scenes in their shows and films (which all come at the detriment of art because of
the lack of proper integration).
Other possible ways to address the loss of revenue due to the absence of
commercials would be advertising on the web if one were watching it via streaming.
Like what’s done in ted.com, commercials are appended to their videos, and one feels
like it’s worth watching those commercials since you did get to watch something for
free. The commercials’ relative brevity works for it too.
Also, charging for downloaded content works perfectly well. While you may not
have to watch commercials, you wind up paying a reasonable amount of money to own
a copy of an episode. This model hasn’t taken off with us locally both because there is
no one running such a service, and because local content does not seem to inspire
downloading and rewatching (more on local content and rewatching later).
And there are always DVD sales. Fans will go out and buy DVD boxed sets even
if they have digital copies of episodes. These DVD releases are increasingly enticing
with their special features and additional content, and they provide viewers with a
whole new experience as well as a chance to re-experience their favorite shows.
These things may not generate as much money as television ads, and this may
mean less money for television shows to work with. But I think that the coming years
will see a search for new business models that are compatible with the new digital
options that television viewers have.
Two Seconds of Suspense
Looking at the aesthetic changes that will come from the removal of these
breaks, we can see a loss of suspense. Scenes that would make you gasp and hold
your breath for the minutes until the show returns are effectively removed of their
suspense factor because, watching on digital media that eliminates commercials, after
one or two seconds, that scene will be immediately resolved.
This means that writers may start doing some rethinking. If the demand for mini-
cliffhangers that factor in commercial breaks are removed, then the need for such
things are effectively removed, and writers can be free to allow the episode to develop
without imposing such events.
Granted, this would remove a lot of suspense from television. But then it would
also mean that, without the imposition of such suspense, writers are free to explore
other things, to create suspense in other ways. What are these ways?
We can once again refer to cable television series and the way that there isn’t a
need for big explosive scenes (though those series do certainly have those, but not in
as predictable and calibrated a fashion as network TV series) to see the possibilities for
TV. At present, and as a writer, I can’t predict what this means and what I can expect to
see in television due to the removal of this imposition. What I do know is that it will
open up lots of room for experimentation and this is an exciting opportunity to stretch
the limits of the television form if it can be picked up on and explored.
Arbitrary Time
As we look at the relation of form and time in television, we can also observe
that digital media will change the way that time works in television. The TV series that
we watch usually come in 30-minute or one-hour chunks.
Why 30-minutes and one hour? Is there an underlying logic to these lengths that
make them the optimal TV series lengths? Not really. It’s just easier to sell ad time
when you cut your shows up into these lengths, then peg an episode run time at
around 22 or 44 minutes respectively, and sell the rest of the time to advertisers. These
are nice round numbers to work with.
But as already discussed, we’re cutting out the commercials. We’re not thinking
about that ad time that we have to work in. If so, then it’s possible that the time
impositions of that paradigm will also disappear.
If there is nothing inherently productive about setting content at 30-minutes or
one-hour, and if the reason for setting those times is rendered unnecessary, then that
frees up content creators to work within other time frames. These time frames would
be dictated not by the advertisement-ready chunks, but by creativity and content.
The web has shown how series of various lengths can work and be successful.
Of course webseries have also conformed to limitations, but these have been
limitations of form and not of commercial consideration. It’s easy to stream a three to
seven minute video on youtube, and that’s been about the length of most web series
episodes.
Some might decry the brevity as a further dumbing down of the viewer, of further
shortening attention spans in the post-MTV landscape. I’m not saying that TV
necessarily shrinks to these short byte-size smidgens. What I am saying is that without
the imposition of the old paradigm, new kinds of content can be developed.
We’ve seen successful online content like Dr. Horrible’s Sing Along Blog, The
Guild, and 2009: A True Story, among others, that maximized the non-standard episode
length. Impositions of form allowed television to develop and be calibrated, but with
the removal of these impositions we see once again possibilities for development.
If you’re doing a sit-com, why must it run for thirty minutes every episode? What
if the story you want to tell is shorter? Will only run say twenty minutes? You wind up
throwing in fillers or lame jokes. At worst, and this is done locally, you just get the
actors to riff on whatever and improvise for a few minutes. But removed of these
demands, writing can be more direct, content can be more effectively designed.
Reset Button
I think probably the best thing that experiencing television through digital media
offers us are the great possibilities it opens up in terms of content. Before, TV had to
be able to reset so that when you missed an episode, you didn’t really miss much.
Episodes were, well, episodic, self-contained units of narrative. There were large
movements that would and could happen for the duration of a season or for the whole
story, but often a single episode could function on its own, and missing one did not
mean that you would be lost or would not know what was going on.
Think of long-running series like the classic Dragnet or Law and Order. Or even
better think of sitcoms like I Dream of Genie and Bewitched, The Dick Van Dyke Show
and I Love Lucy, Cheers and Gilligan’s Island. A sitcom would resolve itself within one
sitting, with everything essentially being reset by the end of the episode.
We can examine the structure of the traditional sitcom in The Big Bang Theory.
Each episode begins with the characters in equilibrium, usually doing something geeky
and in their comfort zones. Then a complication is introduced. This complication will
lead to the characters doing funny things. Then by the end of the episode, the
complication introduced will be resolved. Granted there are couplings, some things
that carry over from one episode to the next, but the characters essentially remain the
same, and each episode we find them generally the same as they were the last time we
saw them.
Mother Myth and the New Sitcom
Now look at How I Met Your Mother which does not follow a traditional sitcom
structure. Unlike most sitcoms which introduce us to characters and keep them as they
are, HIMYM introduces us to its main character in the future, setting the old Ted as a
narrator, and his telling the story to his kids as the narrative frame. It essentially tells us
that it will not stay constant, and that the events in these episodes are all leading to
this moment, featured in the narrative frame.
While HIMYM utilizes familiar sitcom structures and tropes, it on the whole
negotiates traditional sitcom elements with innovative new techniques and ideas. More
importantly for our discussion on digital media, it builds a mythology. It has its meta-
narrative that tells the story of Ted Mosby’s search for the titular mother, along with
smaller narratives, it has its great symbols and markers, all of these things that the
show keeps returning to.
And really, more than telling the usual sitcom stories it builds upon these to form
this much larger story not merely of meeting the mother, but of life, love, friendship,
career, relationships, and generally mirroring the kinds of issues that people in their
late-20s and early-30s go through. So Friends and Seinfeld did these things, but they
never made it seem to matter as much as HIMYM precisely because we aren’t just
invested in the small events of individual episodes, but because of this larger narrative
frame that we are aware of.
Now I posit that a large reason why this frame works, and why it’s so enjoyable
to witness HIMYM in this way, is that there is such quick and easy access to previous
episodes. The show plays this up, seemingly encouraging viewers to go back to past
episodes to make connections.
As the show has progressed and its catalog has grown longer, it has had more
material to bounce off of. When new episodes are shown that build the “mother
mythology” we are given hints, clues, and images which send us back to past episodes
as we try and piece it all together. There is a self-referentiality available to this new kind
of sitcom that considers mythology-building just as much as it does immediate laughs.
New Narrative Space
And if sitcoms which are essentially stagnant situations are now evolving and
maximizing the opportunity to build on mythology, what can we expect from shows
that focus on developing their universes and mythology?
Granted, shows started having longer, more complex narrative threads in the
early 90s with shows like ER and NYPD Blue. But the narrative space to build a
mythology was hampered by how much audiences could remember and how much
you could fit in a “previously on” which necessarily limited overall movement. Possibly
limiting to those shows were also changes in cast which would hinder a grand
narrative. Whatever those limitations were, once digital media and the opportunity to
revisit episodes opened up, many new shows took advantage of the new narrative
space.
Lost is obviously meticulous in this, but even shows that don’t have any scifi
twists are developing the mythologies in their universes to powerful effect. One need
only to recall a great series like The Wire and see how it works on the level of a novel.
Or the continuing, and always excellent and compelling Breaking Bad as it stretches its
novel-like storytelling capabilities. In its third season, it has, like a novel, told the story
of a protagonist, but also the stories of those around him and of so much more. It
keeps building and the ability to go back and rewatch episodes allows for viewers that
might have previously gotten lost and given up on a series, to be able to access
episodes and rewatch them.
As mentioned previously, if you missed an episode you could be lost. And that’s
why traditionally shows had to have reset buttons, to keep from alienating viewers. But
now digital media opens up a vast narrative space that is only now being explored.
Comparisons are being made as television moves into novelistic territory, seasons
functioning as chapters and the larger narratives and themes binding the episodes that
function as pages in the novel. This means that television is moving towards larger
narrative space because of the rewatch capabilities that digital media gives viewers.
Serialized Fiction
Comic books operate as serialized narratives. They come to us in short, small
installments, but within these installments they create large narratives, establishing
mythologies and constructing intricate continuities. These continuities get so large that
fans wind up fighting over many things, and the only way to settle things is to pull out
the issue and present your evidence. If you get lost in the storyline or forget things
because it does often take a month for the latest issue to come out, you can always
pull out the issue from last month, and even the month before that and so on. If you’ve
been following the comic book, you have access to the old content and you can
always go back to it.
This is why comic books can create such large stories and intricate continuities,
because readers can so easily return to back issues. This form encourages interlocking
stories, setting things up with pay-offs later on.
And it’s this form, I believe, that television can begin moving towards as more
access to TV in digital media formats becomes available. It’s hard to think of a TV
series going bigger than Lost, but I do believe that one will come. I also believe that if
we get ambitious enough we can accomplish a similarly epic narrative on a local level.
Considering the new media available to television, it is necessary for creators to
begin to consider not only immediate appreciation for shows through their initial
broadcasting, but also how to find a balance between immediate appreciation and
long-term watchability.
Replay Factor
Thinking cross-media one can reference video games and a criterion which is
used to rate video games, replayablity. Not only are games ranked on the initial
experience, but on replay factor. Would you play it again even if you had finished the
game? Does the game provide incentive for replaying? Does it provide online support
that enhances the game and provides a new experience for gamers different from the
main story?
Television as product does not end merely in broadcast, and not just in
syndication. It now continues to be a physical and digital product available for
purchase. If this were a consideration then it would change the content so that a series
can have replayability beyond first screening.
This means mythology as mentioned before, and more features in the DVD, but
also the ability of television to create meanings that would resonate, and for television
to be constructed in such a way that would reward multiple viewings, like rewatching a
film does. Television no longer has to be a disposable product that is discarded after its
initial run, nor just a vehicle for running commercials, nor a repetitive, dumbed down
form of quick and easy entertainment.
If you want people to shell out money, you have to come up with a product that
they believe they will come back to. It’s no surprise that what has powered the
popularity of Joss Whedon’s Firefly has been DVD sales. The show is well-shot and
well-written, with stories so powerful and a sense of fun that’s equally powerful that
make it something you could watch over and over again. Fans keep coming back to it,
and the more people watch it, the more people pass it along to friends, generating
even further attention for the series. It tells human stories, it provides us with
characters we love to spend time with, it gives us episodes that we enjoy rewatching,
and best of all, it creates a mythos that is expansive and intriguing, something for fans
to think about and contribute to themselves (as evidenced by the recent fan film made
in the Firefly universe, Browncoats: Redemption).
New series should not only attempt to make things that people will like
immediately, but also make shows that people will come back to. Creators should look
to make shows that will stand the test of time, so that they can be reissued on DVD,
Blu-Ray, and whatever new digital formats develop.
Not only do we have technology that is revolutionizing what television can do,
but there is clear incentive to develop content so that people will want to own copies of
it. The hardware exists, and the demand is there. The only question is how will these
things be addressed? Will creators be able to adapt to the new, expansive
opportunities that digital media offers television as an art form, or will they be
constrained by old paradigms?
Local television series are designed to be disposable, catering to the artista-of-
the-moment. But if lasting effects were considered, if we were to introduce this as an
aesthetic criterion, then it would mean that the artista-of-the-moment trend would be
re-examined. Also local content would have to develop to be distinctive and worth
more viewings than the one broadcast run that episodes usually get. The eight month
series run could also be reconsidered, so that the form can serve the content, so that
local television can tell more different, more lasting stories that would resonate with
more viewers.
Conclusion
It’s an exciting time to be a television fan. Digital media is changing the world,
and television will necessarily have to change with the digital revolution. I’ve explored a
number of ideas here about social interactions, the changing nature of television
viewing, and the great potential that the innovations of digital offer television content. I
don’t know how many of the ideas here will come to fruition, but it’s very clear that
television, both on the international and local levels, is ripe for innovation and
reinvention. The technology has led the way and opened the door, and now it’s up to
TV creators, producers, and viewers to explore the digital landscape.
Lost in the Multiverse
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net. It was written sometime in the middle of the sixth season, when we were all still grasping for answers, though you could say even after it ended we still are grasping. This attempts to throw in and educate about science concepts by examining the show.)
At the end of the fifth season of Lost, when Juliet (Elizabeth Mitchell) was
cursing at the nuclear bomb and pounding it with a rock, her impassioned cries
growing frantic, we witnessed the last time that she struck it, a flash of light , and then
nothing. We were witness to one of the greatest Schrodinger’s Cat situations in all of
television. And in the months between the season five finale and season six opener, we
viewers would wait, contemplating whether Faraday’s plan had worked or not, whether
the plane wouldn’t crash and none of it would have happened, or if the characters were
still stuck on the island, in possibly worse shape than before.
But Lost, being a show that has mastered throwing, “Huh, WTF?” moments at
viewers, has with its reinvention in its last season, given viewers one of the most mind-
blowing and challenging set-ups that any TV show has ever come up with.
How to make an Alternate Universe
In quantum physics, it has been posited that there exist multiple universes.
String Theory and M-Theory propose a number of dimensions which exist parallel to
our own, but outside of our detection. In a Schrodinger’s cat situation the cat in the box
is both alive and dead. By creating that kind of situation you have created a reality in
which the cat is alive and dead at the same time, or you have created two alternate
realities. In one reality the cat is alive. In the other reality, the cat is dead. With the
creation of this split, both realities will continue to exist, each reality, or universe,
oblivious to the existence of the other. Thus all these different universes exist in what is
referred to as the multiverse.
When Juliet detonates the bomb, we are left waiting for some resolution. At the
start of the sixth season, we are shown that the cat is neither alive nor dead, but both.
The bomb went off, Faraday’s plan worked, and the plane never crashed. At the same
time Faraday’s plan failed, the bomb went off, but the characters just jumped through
time again, they were still on the island, and everything that had happened before still
happened. Thus, in its sixth season, Lost has given us two different realities that its
characters inhabit.
The existence of alternate realities/universes is not a new thing in art. It’s a
common trope in comic books, has been used in films, and in television it was used
most memorably in the classic Star Trek: TOS episode “Mirror, Mirror” (and Star Trek:
Enterprise went back to the well with their own versions of it, which were among that
series’ best episodes).
There is a clear difference between the use of multiverses in Lost as opposed to
its use in other TV shows. Other shows presented the alternate universe as the
alternate to the one which we regularly watch, and only visited those universes on
occasion, making a clear delineation between the “real” and the “alternate” universe.
Lost gave viewers one reality for five seasons, threw us a Schrodinger’s cat moment in
the season five finale, and then in season six gave us two realities which we are
supposed to believe in equally. Further, it is asking us to watch a show that operates
with two different universes, with their own separate rules and logic.
Form and how Lost Functions
One of the great things that Lost has done over its run (and let’s at this point
acknowledge that the show went in bad directions at times, but that’s material for
another essay) is maximize how it structures its show, both in terms of season-long
arcs and developments, and in individual episodes. Whether things are making sense
or not, they are always exciting and leaving us wanting to know what happens next.
A factor that has contributed greatly to this is the way in which the show is
structured. We are given a narrative present that is filled with action, suspense, and
horror, as well as warmth, love, and hope. The survivors of Oceanic Flight 815 that are
stuck on the island go through ordeals in which they have to strive to survive, run from
the black pillar of smoke, encounter the once-mysterious Others, and many other
adventures.
Set against this narrative present, for the first three seasons we were given
flashbacks that revealed the characters’ pasts, their inner demons, and the things that
had brought them onto the flight from Sydney and to the island. This was an intriguing
way to run the show, as it gave us, in the forefront, a pulse-pounding action-adventure-
drama of castaways on a hostile island where freaky things happen. This served to
push the show’s grand narrative advancing the plot of the narrative present.
Then the flashbacks allowed for more character development, and for drama
and at times melodrama, as it delved into the tragedies and (sometime) triumphs that
the characters had before becoming castaways. This allowed for resolutions within
single episodes, for particularly powerful stories to be told in the frame of single
episodes, while contributing to the larger narrative of the series.
But one had to wonder, how long could they keep flashing back and telling
these stories? It was apparent that they were running out of flashback stories when
they threw in the other set of survivors (though a number of those stories, like Libby’s,
were pretty interesting to watch). Then they proceeded to kill off these survivors, which
made the whole thing seem inconsequential and like they were just dragging it out.
Then in the fourth season the show’s structure changed dramatically. From
flashbacks we are suddenly introduced to flashforwards. From a narrative present with
flashbacks that bring us to the present, we are given a narrative present and the future
events that are the result of the present. The show does an even more challenging
thing, by mixing up flashforwards and flashbacks, along with the narrative present, all
in one episode (which focused on Jin and Sun).
Showing the show’s full potential in applying science fiction concepts for
dramatic effect is the episode “The Constant” which, in a seeming tip of the hat to
Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse 5, we have Desmond unstuck in time, shifting his
consciousness from one time setting to the next. This further shows the ability of Lost
to play with temporal settings, as the narrative present and the past occur
simultaneously. In this episode we are told that time is not linear, but rather that all of
these things are occurring at once, and one can, through the power of the island,
become unstuck in space/time. Most admirably, “The Constant” plays with this
concept within the context of one of the greatest single-episode love stories of all time.
The heart-wrenching story of Desmond and Penny is made only more powerful, instead
of gimmicky, by the scifi behind it.
Then in its last season Lost does away with both frames. No more flashbacks
and flashforwards. Having mastered telling stories within those two forms, they threw it
all out the window. Instead of having a narrative present and another time to jump back
and forth from, Lost presented us with something that we have never been asked to
watch before. Lost asked us to watch a show with two narrative presents.
Will Lost Expand the TV Universe?
In Steven Johnson’s Everything Bad is Good for You, he posits that American TV
viewers have become more intelligent in the last two decades due to television; the
expanding narrative demands that certain shows make on their viewers increase the
viewers’ ability to understand and engage the shows.
It would seem that the viewership of Lost would serve as evidence of this
observation. Think back to the demands of shows twenty, or even ten years ago. How
many of them asked us to track so many characters through a variety of temporal
settings, ultimately asking us to follow these same characters through two different,
co-existing realities?
At present other shows are using similar devices. The recently-cancelled
Dollhouse had one of its best episodes, “Epitaph” set as a flashforward to that show’s
narrative present. Fringe (also co-created by J.J. Abrams, leading many viewers to look
for overlaps and intersects between the mythologies of it and Lost) regularly makes
mention of, on occasion has visited, and in its overarching mythology seems to be
moving towards a clash with an alternate universe. And How I Met Your Mother uses a
narrative present (in that show’s case the future) and then flashes back (to our present),
and from there flashes back regularly, with certain episodes doing a great job of using
that narrative device to jump back and forth in time for comedic effect (more of this in
the essay “How Do You Watch TV?”).
Still, most shows are structured in a linear manner, with shows progressing from
point A to point B (or in the case of most sitcoms, from point A to somewhere, then
back to point A). One can only ask, will Lost and what it has accomplished by applying
a variety of framing devices over its six season run, influence other series, or become
an influence on new series that are being created?
Flashforward started off strong, hoping to be a Lost successor, but its
viewership has dwindled, and it has failed to make a mythology as compelling as the
series it is trying to ape. Also, most of the show is set in the present, the flashforwards
more a narrative gimmick rather than an influence on the larger narrative and its frame.
The consistency to which Lost stuck to and innovated with its temporal setting
jumping narratives has yet to be replicated with success. Yet, it is not a replication that
we should look for. Rather we should see the show’s ability to break from the traditional
form of the hour-long television drama as a clear sign that there are show creators and
writers who can deliver pretty much the same content (love stories, marital issues,
daddy issues, con men, adorable fat dudes, drug problems, crazy killers, being lost
somewhere, people looking for redemption) that we’ve always been watching, but
restructure it in such a way that its form is so compelling that it seems new to us.
Looking now to our local television, with its decidedly pedestrian programming
and its insistence on repetition rather than innovation, one can only hope that there
could be some development. Local television does a lot of adaptations, some of these
reboots made for the Philippine setting. Some productions, on the other hand, are
billed as original series, but they have been outright copied or made from an amalgam
of foreign material.
Would it be possible for a change in form to provide the push that local
television needs? As we have witnessed in Lost, where we are shown the stories of
fragile humans in extreme situations, we are not really shown anything new in terms of
content, but rather how that content is presented to us. Could the next great teleserye
featuring temporal shifting, or time-jumping characters?
At present, whether local television will take a cue from the development of
television in other countries and start experimenting with form remains its own
Schrodinger’s cat. But as Lost winds down and heads toward its series finale one
cannot help but admire where the show has taken us and how it has challenged us to
think differently, demanding more from the viewers than almost all other shows have
ever dared.
Glee’s “Dream On”
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net. It is a scene-by-scene analysis of an episode of Glee. At the end of this essay I made a list of directions that I hoped the show would go, but as the show has progressed, we can observer that it was a decidedly different show from what I wanted to see. Still, I think you can go back to this episode, read over this essay, and get something out of it.)
This analysis is prodded by a number of things, among them the Jollibee
appearance, friends’ requests, Neil Patrick Harris’s great guest performance, and most
notably the presence of guest director Joss Whedon. Also because I really like Glee.
And if anything, this episode feels like it encapsulates what Glee could be as a series,
capturing both a popular audience while at the same time telling small, tragic stories of
coming of age, loss, and dreams fulfilled or forgotten.
It may be called Glee but I watch this show for the sadness and I think it
operates best when it is revealing the little tragedies embedded in its characters’ lives,
and the possible tragedies that await them. It seems clear that Whedon has a good
grasp of this, and he plays this up with a number of little heartbreaks sprinkled
throughout the show in between the big, fun musical numbers that people watch the
show for.
This commentary will run without an overriding centering theme or structure.
What I’ve done is list down notes and write comments as I watched the episode, so
one set of ideas will bleed into another. Here we go.
The Bryan Ryan Pseudo-Menace
The episode opens with Will coming into Principal Figgins’s room. Figgins will
introduce the man who after a few seconds is revealed to be NPH’s guest character
Bryan Ryan. It cuts to a funny flashback where Bryan Ryan sings “Daydream
Believer” (yes, as is the case with a lot of Glee episodes the characters will repeat the
main idea ad infinitum throughout, and it will also be used in picking songs) and in the
middle of it NPH performs a magic trick while Matthew Morrison’s Will gawks nerdily.
It’s meant to be a funny sequence and it works in setting up the kind of relationship
these two once had, as after the song Bryan Ryan demeans Will with, “What’s the
matter Schuester, cat got your talent?”
Then it returns to the present where NPH delivers a monologue with starts and
stops that help to accentuate and punctuate specific words, these affectations done
carefully for great comedic effect. It may just be me, but it was reminiscent of his
opening monologue in Dr. Horrible, where he and Whedon supposedly worked on how
to deliver his lines for just such an effect.
Then it’s followed by another flashback, this in the near past showing that after
Bryan Ryan had found his dreams of showbiz were all a lie, he began to run a show
choir conversion group. This whole sequence is hokey and unrealistic, and drives home
the point that Glee exists in its own little world which is kind of like ours. But its being
unrealistic helps to prepare us for the gags and switches that are to come. What’s
interesting is that this storyline is generally meant to be fun and inhabit la-la land, but
the other important plot in the episode is something very realistic and heartfelt. Still,
this works to undercut the menace established by Bryan Ryan by showing him in a
kind of absurdity. We will see that throughout this episode we are presented with heavy
scenes immediately undercut by funny sequences and vice versa. This shows how
much range the series has, as well as displaying the wealth of material that the series
has to work with. Seeing how effective the shifts from happy-go-lucky funny stuff to
serious issues are in this episode, one hopes that they could develop this kind of
balance in all episodes.
From the show choir flashback we again return to Principal Figgins’s office
where Bryan Ryan tells Will that he wants to speak to the New Directions kids. Will
senses that Bryan Ryan doesn’t mean well, and there is clear tension as the two square
off. Then the tension is undercut when, in a very effective comic gag, Figgins pops out
from behind Bryan Ryan. It’s a great bit of slapstick comedy, working both to resolve
the scene’s tension and to also remind us that Bryan Ryan isn’t meant to be taken
seriously by the audience. We’ve already seen three humorous instances where the
menace that he represents is negated in just the first five minutes. We, the audience,
know well enough not to take him too seriously.
And yet, when in the next scene Bryan Ryan makes his speech to the Glee kids
he absolutely terrifies them, literally crumpling up their dreams and throwing them in
the trash (Artie’s dream anyway, on which the rest of the episode hinges). And with a
Dr. Horrible-like determination he gives his “Your dreams will die” speech that is
punctuated with sudden quick edits to extreme close-up. And this pretty much
establishes the episode’s drive, Bryan Ryan as the episode’s villain, and Artie as the
one who is most affected by his vicious assault on youthful optimism.
We see that in these two opening scenes Bryan Ryan has been established as
both an object of ridicule and an object of menace. I can’t stop heaping praises on
NPH, because though Bryan Ryan’s motivations are so hard to establish or justify and
his disposition is so mercurial as to make us question his being a character, he is
played in such a game manner that we go on with it. What we do have that’s clear is
Bryan Ryan is a man whose dreams have died. And he is out to kill the dreams of
others.
Glee Clubs Past
We now have three characters from Glee Clubs past. We’ve got Will, who never
made it big, settled down with his wife and became a high school teacher, but has
always held onto his dreams in one way or another. He still pursues it vicariously,
through New Directions, he makes the most of chances to sing and dance with the
kids, and he’s even got the Acafellas thing (I didn’t like that episode, and that whole
thing seemed kind of rushed, but I think that there should be some kind of follow up on
that front).
Kristin Chenoweth’s April Rhodes never made it either. She turned up a drunk
who kind of just latches onto one thing or another, though in the recent episode she did
get lucky, sort of, and have a future, sort of. But again it was more out of luck and
dumb circumstance than the pursuit of her dreams.
And now we have Bryan Ryan, who failed too. But he wants to kill everyone
else’s dreams. There’s a definite bitterness here, as well as a kind of arrogance. If he
wasn’t good enough to make it, then why should these kids think that they are? And
thus he thinks he is doing them a service by disabusing them their dreams.
Artie and Tina
From there we jump to the scene with Artie and Tina which establishes the
episode’s emotional fulcrum. Thematically Artie is the most important because while
the others can dream and think that making their dreams come true will be a matter of
their hard work and talent, Artie has to come to terms and acknowledge his limitations.
Among the kids, he is most aware of how out of reach his dreams are. It’s good also
that we return to the Artie/Tina (I am contemplating, but do not yet have the courage to
coin them Artina) pairing after such a long time and so much time spent with Rachel,
Finn, Quinn, and Puck. Those stories with the main players seem to feed the soap
opera aspects of the show, while the Artie/Tina pairing has much more potential to tell
deeper, more sincere stories (as we witness in this episode).
Mama-Drama
Another element reintroduced here is Mama-Drama. The show has been playing
with concepts and portrayals of motherhood and the issues surrounding it, but it hasn’t
really made these real or tangible. The first is the uncompelling, often unbelievable fake
pregnancy which really functioned as a kind of time bomb that we were all waiting to
go off so that Will would leave Terri. That was probably the weakest thing about the
first thirteen episodes, and it was good when they finally did away with it.
This bled into Quinn’s pregnancy, though that was hinged on the other time
bomb, the revelation of the true father. Again it’s a very soap-y thing, something that
happens in the Glee-verse that we’re meant to accept. The new Mama-Drama is more
believable, as the adopted Rachel starts to wonder about who her mother is.
Dreams Dashed and Rediscovered
In the next scene we see Artie trying to walk and falling over. He lies on the floor
and when Tina tries to help he just sends her away. He’s angry and bitter and he
doesn’t know who to blame and he winds up throwing it at Tina. There’s a small
tragedy there as Tina brings Artie his wheelchair and then he sends her away. This
works to exhibit how when someone gets his hopes up and he quite literally falls on the
floor, the anger and bitterness can be directed to anyone near him.
This small tragedy then gets undercut by a gag right after, Bryan Ryan talks of the
practicality of Home Economics vs. Glee: “You can’t feed a child sheet music. I
suppose you can for a while, but then it’ll be dead in a month.”
Then Will and Brian head for out for a beer while “Dreamweaver” plays in the
background. There’s no great motivation behind it, but Bryan Ryan breaks down. When
Will says, “Glee is expressing yourself to yourself,” Bryan Ryan slams his head down
onto the table. I would have done the same because the line is just so cheesy.
But Bryan Ryan’s not reacting to the cheesiness. He reveals how much he
misses Glee. NPH once again gets some funny lines here: “I have a box of playbills
hidden away in my basement…like porn.” Then we get the amiable, friendly “Piano
Man” as Will tries to remind Bryan Ryan of past glory. They just sing along in the bar,
there’s no shifting of settings, no location changes, just two dudes singing which
resists Glee’s tendency to overdo and turn things into big production numbers. It’s just
right in limiting it to this; these two men, one who once admired the other, former
teammates, singing along to a song in a bar.
We then return to the Artie/Tine storyline. Tina gives her research and in effect she
is trying to give Artie hope. When she kisses him there’s a perfect shot as the camera
tilts upward ever so slightly and the sun breaks into the scene. It ain’t subtle (but come
on, Glee has never been big on subtlety), but it’s beautifully executed and with both the
gesture (kiss) and the symbolism of the sun’s rays dawning on Artie and Tina, you get
the sense of movement and progress, a tangible sense of hope.
Showdown
The Les Miserables auditions have a different Bryan Ryan, still an asshole but
probably more similar to the one Will had to be around in high school. He’s fiercely
competitive, petty, and unscrupulous, to the point of trying to slip in the accusation that
Will’s an escaped pedophile. Bryan Ryan is still ridiculous, but played with such
conviction that we go along with it.
The dynamic has now changed. At the start there was a clear power imbalance,
with Bryan Ryan imposing himself on Will. Then Will helped Bryan Ryan rediscover who
he was during their little “Piano Man” duet. Despite Will helping him to return to what
he once loved, he forgets that as they compete for the same part.
Now it’s a showdown. For Bryan Ryan this is a reclamation of past glory. For Will
this is a chance to finally beat Bryan Ryan. He got the girl (Terri) Bryan always wanted.
Now he can get the part that Bryan always got. Who gets the part, the man who gave
up his dreams or the one who held on and kept his dreams alive?
Artie Dances
After this we get Artie’s dream sequence. It starts simply, no big flashes or
dissolves or indications that it’s a dream sequence. Then it moves into “Safety Dance”
which is possibly the biggest dance number that the series has done thus far. Kevin
McHale shows off some serious dance moves and it’s shot differently, with
perspectives taken from what seem like camera phones and perspectives of passers-
by. People in the mall come rushing in and join in on the dancing.
What intrigued Filipino viewers was the appearance of Jollibee in the
background. I have to wonder if this was intentional or incidental. Did Jollibee just
happen to be there, by lucky coincidence? Or was it paid for? Does Jollibee now have
the clout to buy ad space on Glee? Despite those questions buzzing around my head, I
like the rest of the Pinoy viewership, was happy to see Jollibee appear in a bonafide
pop cultural phenomenon.
As the number progresses more and more people join the phenomenon as it
seems the whole mall is dancing with Artie. This brings back the idea that it is a dream
sequence. Artie starts it out simply, him telling Tina he can finally dance, and by the
end he is dreaming big.
Then the sequence ends as quietly and unassumingly as it started. Artie is
sitting there in the middle of the mall, just looking out and daydreaming. It’s handled so
well and it’s here that we see the intersection of the overwhelming glee and the
undercurrent of sadness that power the show.
Sue
Sue is underplayed in this episode but she gets a sizzling scene with NPH. They
both start rattling off stats to support their arguments, and I have to like Sue’s line, “I’m
an educator.” Then they rush into Anger Sex. It doesn’t make great sense, but it’s a fun
scene to watch because of the way that Jane Lynch and NPH play off each other.
Revelations
After the inconsequential (as far as Glee’s larger narrative is concerned) scene
between Sue and Bryan Ryan we get two big reveals in one scene. Jessie we have
been suspicious of ever since his creepy initial appearance. But these suspicions have
been mostly wondering if he is planning some kind of sabotage against New
Directions. Now things become clear. We find out why he’s there and that Shelby is
Rachel’s mother. It confirms speculation that was based on the actresses’
resemblance. And there’s a touching delivery by Idina Menzel about the one and only
time Shelby saw Rachel as a baby which makes you understand Jessie’s willingness to
undertake the deception.
Next is a difficult scene between Emma Pillsbury and Artie. How does a teacher,
an educator, break it to a student that they aren’t going to get their dream? This scene
serves as a nice counterpoint to the Bryan Ryan scene at the opening. He breaks
Artie’s heart out of malice and bitterness, crumpling up the paper at the start of the
episode just to kill his and the other Glee kids’ spirits. Emma does it out of
compassion, thinking that it’s her role to limit Artie’s expectations. She has to kill his
dream gently, so that he remains realistic about things. She is breaking his heart out of
compassion.
This is followed by the jolt of Sue’s revelation. Sue plays villain for a scene,
pitting Will against Bryan Ryan after Will gets the role and Bryan Ryan only gets one
line in the whole production.
Again after a sinister, tense scene we get a humorous moment with Bryan Ryan
practicing his one line and doing variations on the word, “Hooray.” This is followed by
another funny line delivery from NPH. “I’ve grown weary of your insults, Will. They sting
and they make me want to punch your face.” The first half attempts at sophistication,
the second half dropping the act and coming out blunt.
Will gives his little black hole speech. It’s a bit corny but it sounds like just the
kind of thing he would resort to. Will calls Bryan Ryan a black hole and appeals to him
on this emotional level. Then he offers Bryan Ryan the lead. What’s funny is that the
black hole speech matters naught to Bryan Ryan. He does turn on a dime and takes
Will’s part, and immediately starts acting the star with the play’s director.
With that issue generally resolved the show switches to what will develop into a
major arc at least until the end of the season. We get a number from Rachel and
Shelby, “I Dreamed a Dream,” which is beautifully performed and shot likewise. Take
special note of the blocking, Shelby’s always out of Rachel’s line of sight. The camera
bobs and weaves but Rachel stays in one place. Shelby approaches, holds her from
behind, but still Rachel can’t turn to look. And though Shelby crying in the rain and
Rachel crying in her room at the end of the sequence overdo it, the song performance
has earned enough goodwill for me to forgive that kind of blunt, bashing-over-the head
imagery of the separated mother and child.
Dream a Little Dream
The episode closes with a focus on the story arc of Artie and Tina. You realize at
the episode’s end that Finn and Puck only got a line each, the Finn/Kurt storyline has
been set aside, Puck & Mercedes sat on the sidelines, and we’ve gotten a lot of play
out of some otherwise neglected characters. It shows the possibilities of more stories
being told, and more realistic stories that can be explored in the future. The show has
gotten an extension into its third season already, so hopefully this gives the writers
confidence to take risks and tell the stories of more characters.
In the episode’s closing number it’s again important to take note of the blocking
and movement onstage. As Artie starts singing “Dream a Little Dream of Me” he is in
the foreground, center stage. But after his verse, he has to move aside so that Other
Asian and Tina can take center stage. There’s a sad effect as Artie rolls stage left. His
“tap-wheels” make a few lame clicks and then we hear the shoes of Other Asian and
Tina clicking together loudly.
What’s impressive is Artie’s supposed acceptance vis-à-vis the obvious pain in
his face as he watches Tina dance with Other Asian. The episode’s closing shot
captures the heart-wrenching nature of it all perfectly as it has Artie’s sad face in the
foreground as Other Asian dips Tina in the background.
Seeing what this episode can pull off, I now offer my own suggestions, or at
least my own hopes for future episodes. First off, there’s got to be an episode featuring
Other Asian or Mike Chang and Matt Rutherford. The show has given them names but
it hasn’t given them stories yet. Some of the other minor players are still jostling for
screen time, but there’s a chance that giving these two guys more narrative space may
reveal other new directions that the series can go into.
What I want most though is an episode through Britney’s POV. Heather Morris is
showing great comic chops with her limited time, and she’s become the New
Directions member whom I always look forward to hearing from. She is hilarious, and
we can only imagine what kinds of things that the writers can think of.
The season is winding down and it’s been bumpy as Glee has struggled
between its various tones. “Dream On” is one of the best episodes, if not the best
episode in terms of pacing, visual language, and storytelling. It shows how far Glee has
come this season as well as showing where the show can go.
LITERARY/ COMICS
What is CNF?
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net.)
In a literature class a professor of mine said of the literary genres, “There is
poetry, and then there is everything else.” Poetry has, after all, been regarded as the
highest form of expression, the poetic line the most charged of meaning in all literary
units. We’ve had poetry for as long as we have had literature, both written and oral. The
novel has been around a few centuries, depending on who you believe when it comes
to which was the first novel. The short story’s a couple of centuries old, coming to
fruition in the last one. But what about Creative Non-Fiction, or CNF?
Depending on how you look at it, CNF (we refer to it henceforth as CNF as this
is its local term, as appropriated by Cristina Pantoja Hidalgo in her CNF Manual and
Reader, thus far the definitive academic texts on Filipino CNF, not to say that there isn’t
more room for developing the CNF criticism and canon, but to say that Hidalgo called
dibs, she’s first, and until someone writes to the contrary we will stick with that; in the
West though, the C has been dropped leaving it termed nonfic, as they say that since
it’s literary work, the C or creative is assumed, so it’s unnecessary to add the C onto
the NF, but it’s all still semantics, and so we’ll stick with CNF for now) could be
considered the newest of literary genres, or one of the oldest. We could consider works
such as the biographies written by Plutarch, or the diaries and journals written by past
leaders and thinkers as the content of CNF.
If we look at CNF as a new thing, we see it as a strain of writing that stems from
the 20th century’s literary journalism. By employing the techniques of fiction and
poetry, journalists imbued their works with a markedly different way of storytelling.
These literary journalists’ works were driven as much (or more) by theme, plot,
character, irony, as they were by the five Ws and the H. And from this strain of writing
comes contemporary CNF. It’s interesting to note that in Hidalgo’s reader, a lot of the
CNF featured was written for journalistic publication.
As an undergraduate studying creative writing in the Noughties, I didn’t have
CNF classes. At the time there were classes in Essay and in Non-Fiction Narratives. I
believe the Non-Fiction Narrative (NFN) has now been replaced by CNF, as my Master’s
level studies have offered CNF classes (which I studied under Prof. Hidalgo). This
brings to mind the idea that CNF is different from the essay. There are things which
now fall under CNF which previously would have been called something else, such as
the personal essay.
NFN as a term is helpful, in the sense that it refers to a narrative. Essays need
not have narratives. But a nonfiction work which employs narrative in the sense that a
short story would, would be considered a work of CNF. However, even if you don’t
have a narrative, you can still be writing CNF. Confused yet?
Indeed, defining CNF is a bit of a pickle. It is, after all, a genre that is defined by
what it’s not. It’s not fiction. That’s the underlying assumption of it. It’s not fiction,
written in a creative (literary) way. That leaves a lot of room for what it could be.
Unlike poetry and fiction, which have some expectations in form, it’s harder to
pin down what constitutes a work of CNF. Poetry is written in verse, cut up into stanzas
or strophes (at least that’s our back to basics definition, contemporary poets have of
course been pushing the limits of poetry far beyond these basics) while fiction is
written in prose, and it has characters, a plot, a beginning, middle, end, climax,
denouement.
CNF is written in prose (generally, though I can imagine someone making an
experiment of other ways to do it) and employs the tools of literature to create
meaning. It doesn’t have to tell a story, it’s not NFN, it doesn’t have to have a narrative.
That means that CNF could be used to portray a mood, a feeling, a single moment, like
poetry sometimes does.
So far, as we’ve explored these definitions, we see that the only constraint
placed on CNF is that it’s not fiction. It can take various forms, can pick and choose
literary devices to fit its whim, can adjust and adapt to whatever form is best for what
it’s trying to tell.
In this sense, CNF is one of the most exciting areas of literature to explore. This
means that, with such little definition placed on what CNF is, the writer is free to
explore what CNF is, what CNF can be.
I started my own serious (or as serious as I get) thinking about CNF last year,
when I was invited to be a fellow for CNF at the UP Advanced Writer’s Workshop. The
range of CNF works at the workshop was indicative of the drastically different
directions that the genre could take.
Fellows for the Filipino equivalent, the Sanaysay, were Vlad Gonzales, who wrote
about music and different kinds of games, portraying his life through these contexts in
language that was conversational, while Jing Panganiban wrote something of an
expose on the literary community in playful chismis-style language. For English,
Criselda Yabes had a work that teetered between CNF and fiction, as she wrestled with
issues of portrayal and the identities of her characters (such issues in CNF and many
more to be discussed in future entries). Hers was a story of a couple from abroad who
was moving back to the Philippines, and buying a home in the province. Very different
from my own work, funny pieces about being a geek in the Philippines.
And these are just four different writers, with only four projects. Each writer
comes up with other projects of course, and there are so many writers now who have
published fiction and poetry and are now exploring what can be done in CNF. This is to
say that at this point the directions in which the genre could push are, as yet,
undefined.
Much publication of CNF has come out of Milflores Publishing, a local publisher
that has specialized in CNF works (among these my own first book). Owned and run by
the aforementioned Hidalgo’s husband, Tony Hidalgo, it has come out regularly with a
variety of CNF books. While these have received mixed reactions (for example Rica
Bolipata Santos’s Love, Desire, Children, Etc. received a first book award, but was also
lambasted by critic Adam David, who went on to shred most of the publishing house’s
CNF line as navel-gazing) it cannot be denied that Milflores has stayed at the forefront
of CNF publishing in the Philippines. They have hewed closer to more “commercially-
accessible” material, skewing towards the funny and light. These choices seem to be
more business- and availability-driven choices.
Which is to say that the field is wide open. There are a number of reasons why
CNF is appealing to a lot of readers. Among them the idea of, “Totoo ba ‘yan? (Did it
really happen), being something that entices a good number of readers. It’s not clear
whether this is a Filipino thing or something that crosses cultures, but the Filipino
reader/viewer does enjoy the “true” story a lot (if we look at a lot of movies that come
out though, they may show a similar tendency as so many have tags of “based on true
events”).
We can’t define and put our finger on what exactly CNF is. We know what it’s
not. But that means that anything that is true can be the material of CNF. And because
of its limitations being content based (only that which is true) then the CNF writer is
free to explore what forms can be employed in CNF.
The “true” and how such truth is portrayed in CNF is a problematic concept, and
it’s a concept that this series of essays will address. This first essay tried to define, or
show how little definition, CNF has. Succeeding essays will discuss ideas of truth, how
we portray things in CNF, who we can write about in CNF, how we approach the idea of
writing about real people and many other things that would come to the mind of the
CNF writer or reader.
This series will attempt to be an examination of CNF through one writer’s
perspective, as I hammer away at my second book of CNF and try and address the
issues and problems that I encounter and end up thinking about in the course of my
writing, and reading other people’s CNF works. It can’t be definitive, as CNF as a genre
of writing is still stretching out and figuring out what it can do, but it will attempt to
reach certain generalizations and identify some ground rules (which of course can
always be broken, given that you know them already) and try and help readers and
aspiring writers of CNF of grapple with a lot of the basics of the genre.
Making the Most of my Midi-chlorian Count: Geek Consciousness, Identity, and Humor in Creative Non-Fiction
(This paper was delivered at Praxis: International Postcolonial Studies Conference in 2010. I was part of a panel asked to discuss the issues of young writers, along with Kit Kwe and Anna Sanchez Ishikawa.)
I. Filipino
“Where’s the pain? Where’s the anger and the hurt?” my friend asked as she
thumped my chest emphatically. She looked at me and I could see the sadness in her
face, this look like she was searching for something and she didn’t find it. I was
thinking, I might have been doing something good in my writing to get her so emotional
about it.
“I don’t know,” I said, “I was just trying to be funny.”
“No,” she said, “You can’t just make jokes about these things. This is serious
stuff. You have to write it out.”
I feel that that exchange encapsulates a lot of issues about my Creative Non-
Fiction. We see there this questioning of the content, why it was chosen and how it
was handled and executed. We also see the demands made by the reader. Further,
shown is the belief that there are things that should be taken seriously, and that the
CNF writer should indeed be responsible not only to himself but to the people and the
milieu being portrayed in the work. Factoring in all these things to think about, I am
reminded of a number of times when I have been told that my writing is fun and
entertaining, but lacks pathos and gravitas.
Cognizant of my residence in a postcolonial country, and the kinds of
experiences that we have had in our bloody, brutal history where we endured centuries
of oppression by Spain, a war with American colonizers whose death count is still
debated, the devastating Japanese occupation, Martial Law, and the post-Martial law
presidencies with their own stories, it’s clear that one need not look far for material that
would have both pathos and gravitas.
Poverty is rampant. Corruption and abuse in the government has been
something that we have learned to live with. Systems and institutions are assumed to
be compromised. Even in this supposedly hopeful time of regime change, there is so
much to be angry, sad, frustrated, or disappointed about that one would think that I
would have the good sense to be serious when I write CNF.
But then I have my subject position to blame.
I was born in the Philippines, but when I was three my mother and I migrated to
Los Angeles. And I feel like I really missed a lot because whenever friends get together
and reminisce they talk about Shaider, Voltes V, and Masked Rider Black. All of these
are outside of my cultural consciousness. Similarly, when older friends talk of their love
for the softdrink beauties I am at a loss. And this is just the pop culture stuff. There’s
even more about Filipino culture that I know I don’t know, and these blindspots in my
cultural consciousness really do weigh heavily on me.
My own cultural consciousness is defined by a lot of television I watched as a
kid. There were the mid-day reruns of old sitcoms like Gilligan’s Island, I Dream of
Jeanie, and I Love Lucy. At night my parents would think I was asleep but I’d be
watching Nick at Nite for classics like The Dick Van Dyke Show, Get Smart, and
Welcome Back, Kotter. I became a disciple of Saturday Night Live even though I would
rarely finish it because, being a kid, I wasn’t used to staying up past midnight.
I would discover Star Wars and Star Trek and they would provide me with hours
of entertainment and what has now become a lifelong devotion to both franchises. At
nine or ten I attended my first convention. I spent lots of hours at the comic book store
either picking new comics or trading basketball cards. And feeding my love for sci-fi
and fantasy was my membership at the book club of the neighborhood library.
Down the block from our apartment was a video store. The Armenian dude who
ran it always recommended indie films to me, and he let me borrow R-rated movies
even when I was only twelve. Just a few blocks down, with the help of rollerblades, I
could get to the multiplex and catch a bunch of movies.
I was a suburban kid who was fully attuned to American consumer pop culture.
Exposure to Filipino culture was limited to the VHS tapes that could be rented at the
Filipino stores.
Having spent my formative years abroad, I was stuck with a consciousness that
is largely divorced from the third world/postcolonial experience. Studying here helped
me to form more of an identity as a Filipino, but I feel that these are aspects of an
identity that I have chosen to develop, not the result of socialization at a young age. I’m
not sure if my awareness and complicity in developing my identity as a Filipino
enhances or diminishes it. What is clear to me is that this kind of diptych
consciousness makes for a CNF voice that can adopt stances of both outsider and
insider.
It’s from this perspective that I attempt to write. The essay is an attempt, and in
most cases, it’s me trying to understand a social situation. My geek consciousness
makes for limited ability to understand and function properly in social situations. This
gets compounded at times by the Fil-Am consciousness. I feel it’s worth pointing out
here that it helps that I do not look American or mestizo at all, that my kayumanggi skin
and rather plain looks let me blend in and allow for more normal natural behavior
towards me, as opposed to say looking like I am part American. I’m not saying it’s the
most fortunate thing, as I suppose that if I did look more American then I would be
much better looking and would do better with women and might perhaps have had a
chance at a showbiz career. But my Filipino looks do help me to be a funny writer, and
well, you gotta make the best of what you got.
In these attempts to understand, funny things emerge. I try to understand, I try
to fit in, but I often fail. These failures do lead to some learning, to some enhancement
of understanding. But this learning and understanding is built upon my inability to
adapt or conform to situations.
I often write these situations as funny. But if one thinks about it, these are based
on sad occurrences, on instances of failure. These situations might include a dilemma
while buying DVDs, not having a date at a wedding, or a breakup. All of these are
obviously dwarfed when it comes to the larger social conditions that we have to
contend with in this world, and particularly in the third world. But these are small
tragedies, containing gravitas and pathos, wrapped up in a sense of humor. Which is to
say that while I may be making jokes, I am serious about them.
II. Geek
I’ve carved a niche for myself as the voice of the Filipino geek. And I think it’s
important that I problematize the bringing together of those two terms, as the latter is
an inherently Western concept.
The definition of geek is highly debated. As part of the general consensus and
what we’ll work from here, is that geeks are socially awkward people who have a
devotion to non-mainstream interests.
It’s not just people in the West who are geeks, though there are probably more
of them there because of the access to media and content which would inspire
geekery.
There is a geek community here. It has not reached a critical mass to the level
that it can influence local pop culture, but geeks do organize and congregate. Seeing
geeks gather though, it becomes clear that the composition is mostly middle to upper
class, with most of its members being affluent, which explains not only their ability to
engage this type of culture, but their access to media, content, collectibles, and the
other physical manifestations of geekery. Which is to say that geeks make up an
extremely small part of the population.
Also, the things which geeks get geeky about are rarely Filipino. Filipino content
at present is developed for the masa, and it largely excludes the geek from its
considerations when TV shows, movies, music, or other forms of entertainment media
are designed.
This means that the Filipino-ness of a geek will be at question, because while
Filipino in nationality, the geek will inhabit a consciousness that is not Filipino. It is
arguable that the consciousness is largely Western- or Japanese- influenced as most
of the content that fuels geekery is either from the West or Japan. While this might lead
us to assumptions that this is just the spreading of Western cultural hegemony, we can
also point out that the content that geeks get geeky about isn’t pop or mainstream
either, but constitutes fringe culture and interests. It’s more likely that the values geeks
ascribe to are influenced not by the hegemony of the West, but rather the teachings of
The Jedi Council and The Force, The Federation and The Prime Directive, or other
fantastical worlds. The cultural consciousness to which the geek ascribes is something
not fully Filipino, if Filipino at all.
Most geeks would point to the lack of Filipino content to get geeky about. After
all, local TV has no such mythos-building equivalents, local literature has no sweeping
LoTR or Song of Ice and Fire epics, no local movie has the irresistible allure of Star
Wars. But there is content. I can’t speak for TV, but I think that our local epics do have
mythic qualities and classic Filipino films as well as old Pinoy comedies inspire their
own brand of geekiness. But again all of this has yet to catch on, and it’s going to take
a lot more before there is a brand of true Filipino geekiness.
Where does that leave me, as a person who attempts to document his own
geekiness in this world, with an eye on the movements of pop culture? It presents on
my end a substantial problem, as it shows limitations in the way that I can engage
Filipino content, Filipino consciousness.
The true Filipino geek does not exist. Knowing this it becomes apparent that the
way is clear to create an identity which has never been explored in our literature before,
an identity that engages both global interests and hopefully local concerns.
III. Writer
I try not to introduce myself as a writer. Some take this as false modesty. But to
be honest I’ve always observed and respected the difference between a writer and a
person who writes. The first is a state, one that has been attained and proven and
acknowledged, while the other is an act which, if done often enough and well enough,
leads to the first.
As of late I have started to be introduced as: the writer. This usually leads to one
of two reactions. The first is something along the lines of, “Oh really? I didn’t know that
there were Filipino writers who were still alive.” This probably speaks too much about
the kind of exposure to literature that most people in this country have. The second
reaction is to ask, “So how many Palancas have you won?”
I think about this because often the skill of the writer is thought to be
commensurate to the number of writing awards amassed. I’ve slowly come to a place
in my writing career where I have accepted that no one will probably be giving me an
award anytime soon. I write funny, short essays about seemingly trivial things that are
told from the perspective of a fringe subculture.
My attempt in writing essays is to try to approximate a rhythm and rapport that
would be similar to stand-up comedy. I think that the geek stance that I am able to
appropriate makes for a great perspective from which to tell jokes. In lucky strokes this
stance allows me to make insights on the Filipino condition and the human condition
which would not be available to other writers. This is because the self-deprecation and
self-awareness provided by this stance allow me to say certain things that would not
be acceptable if I were speaking from a position of authority or knowing. It’s in knowing
that I don’t know, and in being willing to admit such a lack of knowledge that,
paradoxically, allows me to speak with credibility.
Still I feel that humor is underappreciated. It’s not that people don’t like humor,
but I sometimes wonder if we give humorists as much credit as they deserve. How
hard is it to tell a joke? How hard is it to keep people laughing? Imagine all the assets
at your disposal when you’re with friends and trying to make them laugh. You’ve got
material all around: the physical environment, the past that you have all shared, recent
stories and situations, and you’ve got your body, voice, facial expressions, hand
gestures, and so many more resources.
Now consider what you’ve got if all you’ve got are words. How hard is it when
you don’t have intonation, or rhythm, or other aspects of delivery? Notice that most
“joke books” are filled with puns, or quickie one liners, or just one line set-ups followed
immediately by punchlines. It’s because it’s difficult to sustain a joke. It’s hard to make
people laugh, and it’s even harder to build upon that initial joke and keep spinning it
into a series of jokes, or in my case a complete essay.
My essays come out in short bursts. This is fine, of course, as it is what the
content demands. This brevity though, makes most of my essays ineligible for
contests, as they often don’t reach page minimums. And while people will laugh and
enjoy my work, I am rarely taken seriously, or taken as a serious writer.
I feel that there should be some kind of way to acknowledge and even promote
funnier writing. More often than not our awards and our respect go to decidedly serious
writing that incorporates social realism and portrayals of social issues. This isn’t to say
that there’s anything wrong with that writing. But I’m wondering if it isn’t time for us to
think of humor more seriously and to try and recognize the work that goes into a well-
crafted piece of humor just as much as we reward a well-crafted piece of realist
literature.
I remember Dr. Dalisay asking in one of our classes, why it was that everyone
was always setting out to write the great Filipino novel. Everyone was trying to write the
next Noli Me Tangere.
So I’m not sure how people will respond to this stance, but I feel that I am
leaving others to write those books for the moment. I might try my hand at it one day.
I’ve got a tri-generational narrative brewing in my head that spans the occupation of
Corregidor to a fleeing from Martial Law to 1970s Southern California to a turn of the
century murder mystery. But I’m leaving novel writing, and mostly serious writing, aside
for the moment to focus on being a funny geek trying to understand the world and his
place in the world.
I do sometimes think about one day bagging some awards that might convince
some people that I am a writer indeed. But I wonder if it’ll be my writing that changes,
or the aesthetics of judging, or if magically these two things will just align perfectly. In
the meantime, I’ll keep talking about the mundane and weird everyday experiences that
I have, I’ll keep chronicling geekiness, and most importantly I’ll keep trying to make
people laugh.
Hamlet and the Sopranos
(This paper was written for an MA Shakespeare class.)
In contemporary pop culture, the narrative form, while remaining popular in
traditional forms like literature, has seen an explosion in terms of formats through
which stories can be told. By far, one of the most expansive of these formats is the
television series which boasts the largest narrative frame in visual media. While a film
may expand to tell a trilogy, for example The Godfather series, or even six films, as
we’ve seen with Star Wars, the time available would amount to somewhere near ten to
fifteen hours. In contrast, a television series will span at least twelve episodes per
season, with an average of 44 minutes per episode, this extending to multiple seasons.
The narrative space given allows for numerous characters and the developments of
multiple storylines, some being framed within that season, others spanning the entire
series.
One show that has consistently pushed the narrative possibilities of the television
series is The Sopranos. Recognized as one of the shows that has helped to reinvent
storytelling in its format, The Sopranos has shown its ability at weaving stories with
postmodern panache, playing self-referential, using mobster movies and other similar
works as touchstones, consistently challenging viewers with sprawling storylines that
explore not only the dirty mafia underworld but the sometimes more difficult family lives
and more surprisingly the inner conflicts faced by a contemporary Mafiosi. It’s no
wonder then that The Sopranos has received much critical attention. Not only has it
received awards and has been recognized as a hallmark of television, but it has also
been the subject of academic criticism and has spawned analysis in books such as
Psychology and the Sopranos and I Kill Therefore I Am: The Sopranos and Philosophy.
Being such a large part of contemporary narrative and storytelling, The Sopranos
quickly came to mind as we discussed Shakespeare in our classes. While the two may
seem to come from very different pantheons of literature, as I read scenes from
Shakespeare’s tragedies, and as I analyzed situations, I could not help but find
similarities between them. It’s not to say that The Sopranos takes directly from
Shakespeare, but rather to say that the elements of story that Shakespeare employed
are still consistent, they maintain relevant, and shine through even in such
contemporary literature.
This paper then will seek to show the similarities, the intersecting points between
the Hamlet, and those things that appear in The Sopranos. It will employ my analyses
of both the show’s six seasons and Shakespeare’s tragedies. It is hoped that by finding
these similarities we see that these motifs, these themes recur. Indeed, Shakespeare
was an originator, but he too drew on various sources. Thus tracing these conflicts will
serve to show us how we witness the same stories, and yet the creators before us are
able to give us new stories too.
The idea for this paper struck me when we discussed Hamlet in class. I had
asked about the form of the soliloquy and the purposes it served. As a device, the
soliloquy allows us to see into the character’s mind, it lets us hear what he is thinking,
lends us some understanding which the character strives for and which we may glean
through listening to his unbridled thoughts.
I began thinking about scenes in contemporary media like film and television,
which would allow for something like this. Indeed there is no time for a character to
make a soliloquy in today’s entertainment; it’s done more quickly and more efficiently
with the voice over. However, there have to be other ways to accomplish this. For
example, there are films like High Fidelity where the character will face the camera and
begin talking to it. Still, that seems far from reality; it’s a postmodern technique to
acknowledge the audience, but there had to be a contemporary way to deliver what
the soliloquy does while maintaining the fourth wall.
This technique was The Sopranos’ use of a psychiatrist, Dr. Melfi, and her
sessions with her mob boss patient and anti-hero of the show Tony Soprano. The
technique, established as the narrative frame for the first episode, courses through the
whole series, serving as the device through which we peer into the candid thoughts of
Tony Soprano.
In the first episode we see Tony Soprano enter Dr. Melfi's office for the first time.
Like most patients seeing a doctor for the first time, he is guarded and unsure of how
much he should tell the doctor. We see, through a process of editing, the truths that
Tony divulges, while at the same time seeing the discrepancies between what he says
and what he actually does.
For example, in this first episode he says that he saw a friend earlier. He
approached the friend and said hello to him and they had a short chat over coffee.
However, as he narrates this to Dr. Melfi, we are shown Tony and his nephew
Christopher Moltisanti as they chase down a debtor; first they follow him with a car,
then Chris gets out of the car and follows him on foot while Tony heads the debtor off.
When the debtor turns a corner to escape from Chris Tony hits him with the car, then
Tony gets out of the car and beats him. Here we see also the ambiguous nature of
Tony's admissions. There are moments when he seems to fully disclose all he feels,
and at others we have a feeling that he is toying with the doctor, saying things that she
wants to hear or that will further his reputation with her.
It's interesting to note that this ambiguous nature that is displayed by Tony's
talking with Dr. Melfi is very similar to the kind of doubt and sincerity questioning that
we inevitably subject Hamlet to. When Hamlet speaks we wonder if he speaks the
truth, or if he speaks to fool those around him. At times we believe that he is merely
acting mad, and yet at times he does seem like a bona fide madman.
Tony Soprano shows a similar duality when it comes to his psychiatric sessions.
He may express regrets, may say that he will be a better person. And in fact as we are
shown that though his moral system is flawed, we also see how he gives value to his
family, to his crew, to his people, and his reputation.
In recent pop analysis there's been the statement that while mobster or gangster
flicks portray their characters as smart suave men, the truth of the matter is that most
of these types enter that line because they lack the education or intelligence to make
an honest living, hence their criminality.
Though most of the characters in the show are reflective of this reading, and thus
many of the characters act like thugs and dimwits, Tony distinguishes himself in his
attempts to lead the Soprano crime family as something of a Cosa Nostra philosopher
king. Tony is intelligent, and he has the ability to manipulate, and at the same time
there are moments when his being candid is just as brutal as the beatings that he gives
his enemies.
It's these things that Dr. Melfi, his psychiatrist, has to contend with, just as much
as the viewers do. This adds yet another level of ambiguity as we have a character with
questionable actions (like Hamlet) making statements about these actions, and we
have another character attempting to filter these actions and interpret them. What
happens is that we find the one who is supposed to see through Sopranos' unusual
moods being the one who is further confounded by them.
Adding further to the comparisons to Hamlet and his soliloquies, we find that Tony
Soprano's indecisiveness, like Hamlet's, is inversely proportional to the frequency of
his soliloquies. In the early parts of Hamlet, as Hamlet is wracked by indecision, we
find him delivering his soliloquies or giving long speeches. However, as the action
becomes more frantic and as Hamlet moves closer to action, the soliloquies lessen
until the last act when there are none left and Hamlet is acting just as rashly as Laertes.
Similarly, Tony is indecisive. He spends much time, sometimes a number of
episodes, putting off decisions or allowing situations to play out waiting and hoping for
them to resolve themselves. There are instances when even though he is aware that he
is in danger, or that there are plots being hatched against him, he still delays or waits.
Sometimes these can be attributed to the idea that he would like to be prudent, to
have a clearer view of the situation before acting. But like Hamlet he is guilty of
procrastination and inaction.
And just as Hamlet’s soliloquies lessen as his action increases, we find Tony’s
visits to Dr. Melfi disappear as he moves closer to action. One might attribute this to
the idea that he does not want to have to explain or think over the decisions that he
has made. Much like Hamlet, who stops his ruminating, possibly Tony too does not
want to dwell upon the actions he is about to undertake. He does not want to face Dr.
Melfi who will question his actions, and in effect he does not want to face his decisions
until after they are done.
Another similarity between the two characters is that once they break their chains
of inaction, terribly violent events ensue. After all the delays, his need to test his uncle
through the play within a play, his abuse of his mother and Ophelia, Hamlet does
ultimately come to a decision, and it is this decision that leads to the play’s bloody
resolution.
Once Tony Soprano makes a decision, the outcomes are fatal, and since it’s a
Mafiosi story they are more brutal, resulting in bloodbaths that would shame the
Shakespearean and the Senecan stages. For example, when Tony’s cousin guns down
someone from a rival gang, a hunt is launched against the cousin. Over the course of
several episodes, Tony goes from not wanting to intervene to not wanting to know
where his cousin is, to helping his cousin hide, all the while procrastinating with the
rival gang and trying to get them to let the whole thing blow over. He keeps hoping it
will blow over, but as the situation worsens and the rival gang demands more blood
Tony is pressured to decide. Finally, he takes matters into his own hands and goes to
his cousin’s safehouse and puts a shotgun round into his chest.
We witness this progression of events over and over in The Sopranos, almost
each season we see a similar occurrence happen. Hamlet can only die once, but owing
to the show’s narrative frame, we see a stretching and a recurrence of these violent
events. And with each season coming to that kind of end, and ties with Dr. Melfi
lessening as action increases, we find that the starts of the earlier parts of the next
seasons show Tony attempting to re-establish contact with her. This movement allows
for a return to the sessions and Tony’s ranting. It might have been interesting to hear
one last soliloquy from Hamlet. But taking things from Tony’s end we see that regret is
something that he can scarcely afford and yet it is something that haunts him as
terribly as the Ghost of Hamlet’s father.
In terms of family intrigue, there are also many similarities to be noticed. While
Hamlet’s romantic woes pale in comparison to Tony and his wife Carmella’s
rollercoaster rides of infidelity and reconciliation, as well as Tony’s troubles with his
children, it is notable to study Tony’s conflicted relations with his mother and uncle.
Where Hamlet’s father was king, Tony’s father was the boss of the Soprano crime
family. The two characters looked up to their fathers and their fathers’ deeds. They
both felt that they owed their fathers, but at the same time there was a sense of
abandonment. Hamlet was left hanging, unsure of what to do, unknowing of how
things were playing out and only the apparition of what might have been his father’s
ghost to guide him. Tony’s father had been the head of the crime family, but he had
also left Tony terribly scarred emotionally and saddled with a family both nuclear and
crime family, that was in a state of constant turmoil.
Interestingly, both Hamlet’s and Tony’s main family problems stem from the same
family members, an uncle and their mother. Tony’s mother was diagnosed with a
disorder that had her being terribly pessimistic and blaming all things on her son. While
Hamlet’s mother was not psychologically disturbed in that manner, she had to have
been suffering from either illness or lack of conscience to remarry so soon. This
traumatized Hamlet and put into action the events of the play that would lead to all of
their deaths.
Though such outcomes don’t hold for Tony, his mother too begins a ploy that she
hopes will lead to her son’s death. And like Hamlet’s mother whose partner is her
brother in law Claudius, Tony’s uncle Junior becomes his enemy. Though they do not
marry as the characters in Hamlet do, Tony’s mother and his uncle Junior conspire
against him.
Claudius, after Hamlet’s erratic behavior, begins plotting against him and even
enlists the help of Laertes to ensure Hamlet’s demise. Hamlet’s mother’s role is unclear
in the events that build up, but her taking up with Claudius already makes her suspect.
Though she dies by mistake, we are never truly sure of her loyalties, though it would be
clear that she had sided with Claudius over her own son Hamlet.
We find Tony’s mother not only betraying her son’s trust, as did Hamlet’s mother,
but actually seeking out his demise. When Tony’s mother becomes unhappy with his
putting her in a retirement home, she begins whispering things to Uncle Junior, goading
him into thinking that Tony is plotting against him. Uncle Junior, who has been insecure
of Tony’s father and now Tony, fears for his position in the family and puts into the
works a plan to kill his nephew. Like Claudius, Uncle Junior can’t do it himself, so he
sends people Tony’s way, but like Hamlet, Tony manages an escape and exacts his
own revenge. In later seasons this conflict would recur, up to the point where Junior,
suffering from mental problems akin to Alzheimer’s disease, would shoot Tony in the
stomach.
It’s this familial intrigue that also helps us to see the dramatic similarities. While
I’ve outlined here only this basic one, further studies would reveal to us the many layers
of loyalty and betrayal that could be found in the Sopranos. Tony shoots his cousin so
that he can maintain peace between to warring families. The Cosa Nostra is
consistently referred to as the family and we would do well to note that there are
demands which would line up directly with Shakespearean characters’ beliefs. Hamlet,
though indecisive, does feel that his father deserves to be avenged, and Laertes
believes just the same. Similar intentions fuel many of the characters of the Sopranos,
as they are driven by their own personal drives and the demands of their stations and
surroundings.
Through this brief paper studying the similarities of Hamlet and The Sopranos we
see that the themes of Shakespeare and some of the elements that drove his play
serve just as much in providing dramatic force to one of the touchstones of
contemporary television. The sprawl of The Sopranos series in comparison to that of
Hamlet onstage only further highlights the effectivity of those techniques which
Shakespeare used. The reworking of these techniques, such as the soliloquy turned
psychiatrists’ sessions shows us also the ingenuity of the show in appropriating old
forms to new media. However, as we go over the subject matter and the kinds of
conflicts that they have in common, we see that the stories are the same, but the way
that the stories are told is different.
It’s not a quick and easy connection between the bard and the Don of New
Jersey, but we see that there are many points at which they intersect. Shakespeare’s
work reverberates through time and through various forms of literature and so even in
the most pop and contemporary of formats we can find connections.
V for Vendetta: In Panels and Frames
(I delivered this talk to an ACLE-Alternative Classroom Learning Experience organized by a student org that I was a member of, UP Samahan sa Agham Pampulitika.)
Alan Moore, writer of V for Vendetta, has become notorious for, among other
things, disowning the film adaptations of his work. There was the travesty that was The
League of Extraordinary Gentlemen being turned into the nonsensical extravaganza
that was LXG, and all the other liberal departures that Hollywood has made, often
extracting the powerful vision that Moore has used to craft his groundbreaking work.
Arguably one of the greatest, if not the greatest, comic book writer of all time, a pioneer
who elevated the comic book to the level of art, Moore’s dissociating himself from the
film adaptations of his work leads us to examine, in the context of V for Vendetta, how
narratively similar, and yet how fundamentally different the comic book and the film are.
The film takes a number of departures, and this is to be expected in adaptations
where you take the story of one art form and transplant it to another. Of course each art
form has its own conventions, tools, and limitations, and when making an adaptation
there will necessarily be changes.
The serialized comic book art form is one of the most popular, and yet one of
the most easily misunderstood of forms. This is because it is often treated as a child’s
form, as something that does not deserve study. And yet with each work that Moore
has produced he has pushed the narrative boundaries of the comic book, and shown
what, as an art form, the comic book is capable of. From these aesthetic
considerations, where each of Moore’s books is a masterpiece, any sort of adaptation
is doomed to failure as the stories and the way that they are told are meant truly for the
panels and gutters.
We account for and accept the changes that must be made. The limitations of
the feature film coming to around two hours (these limitations, mind you, are defined
not merely by aesthetic concerns, but also by business concerns, as movies that are
too long limit the number of screenings per day, lessening ticket sales) and the
sweeping story of V taking up a number of issues over a years-long publishing period,
there were things that had to be cut out. There were changes made to character. A
considerable amount of nuance was lost. And there is the dreadful sexual tension
between V and Evey which was handled differently and much better in the comic book.
And viewing the film version, and even allowing that the film is enjoyable and in
itself is quite a good film, there is something that is definitely lost. I do believe that this
film is worth watching, but it removes one of the central tenets of the book, that of
anarchy. What’s unusual is what radicalizes V, what makes him what he is, is essentially
the same in both versions, and yet they lead to decidedly different convictions: the V of
the film believes in democracy while the V of the comic book is an anarchist. I believe
that given the context of the events portrayed in both versions, and the way that the
character develops according to Moore’s vision, then the true outcome should be that
of V as an anarchist.
I’ll first discuss V’s push for democracy in the film, citing examples of lines and
scenes, and then I will contrast them with the concepts of anarchy as presented in
Moore’s book, while also introducing some ideas about anarchy, the übermensch,
superheroes, and the anti-hero. All of these will lead to the conclusion that working
from the text’s framework, with the author’s vision, and within the conventions of the
comic book, that V must necessarily be an anarchist.
The democratic V begins by destroying the Old Bailey, the symbol for justice. In
the comic book, he begins by destroying Parliament.
Further different are his motivations for destroying the Old Bailey. What is
omitted from the film is V’s tirade against Justice. He says that he loved her, but that
she was an unfaithful lover who allowed herself to be used by the powerful to oppress
the people. And then V tells Lady Justice that he has found a new lover, Anarchy. “She
has taught me that justice is meaningless without freedom. She is honest. She makes
no promises and breaks none.”
After destroying the Old Bailey in the film, V makes a news broadcast, where he
speaks of the power of words. He enlists the populace, giving them a one year
timetable. He encourages discourse and it seems very clear that he is a believer in
collective action. In fact, later in the film, he says, “With enough people, blowing up a
building can change the world.”
By the end of the film Evey tells us that V’s is a message of hope, that “He was
all of us.” In essence, and we see this represented visually as various characters who
were killed by the oppressive regime appear onscreen as the Guy Fawkes-mask
wearing protesters unmask themselves, the spirit of V resides in every one of us. We
need only to stand up for ourselves, to take charge, and we too can be V.
Needless to say this ease at which we can become revolutionaries fits that
democratic framework, but it falls well outside of the demands of anarchy, and it falls
far from the spirit of Alan Moore’s artistic vision.
Thus when we look at the adaptation on an aesthetic level, which is to say, is it a
good movie to watch, we can say that it is successful. But on the other level of
adaptation, which is does it capture the spirit of the original work in a new art form, we
can see that it fails to bring the brave, non-conformist, anti-authority stance that
defined Moore and Lloyd’s book.
When we look at the anarchist V we see that he was created within the context
of ultra-conservative Thatcherism. The film deals with a Pax Americana gone wrong
and biological attacks on the populace. The comic book envisions a world post-
nuclear winter. Though now we know that the world would not survive such an event,
Moore wrote V imagining how Britain might handle one. This nuclear war outcome was
meant to hint that the world of both democracy and socialism had failed, resulting in
war. And what rose from that was a government composed of fascist groups, right
wingers, and big corporations.
In any case, while V calls on the populace to join him in the film, he makes a
judgment of them in the comic book, a judgment which shows that he sees next to no
difference between democracy, socialism, or fascism, as what defines all is the
presence of leaders and rulers: “We’ve had a string of embezzlers, frauds, liars, and
lunatics making a string of catastrophic decisions. But who elected them? It was you!
You who appointed these people! You who gave them the power to make your
decisions for you!”
While the world around V is different, the immediate circumstances that created
him were no different. He was a prisoner, one of the outcasts of society who was
chosen for experimentation. In both cases, V becomes something of a superhuman,
physically, intellectually, and most significantly culturally.
The movie never identifies V as being more than a human being. After all, it hints
at democracy, that we can all become V by merely becoming aware of the prison
around us. In the comic book though, there are clear instances when V is referred to as
more than human. In the comic book Finch says, “What we’re up against is someone
who isn’t normal people.” And Dr. Surridge says of V when he blows up Larkhill and
walks away from the facility: “He looked at me as if I were an insect…as if I were
something mounted on a slide.”
Indeed V has transcended whatever it is that we normal humans are. Here it’s
interesting to bring up the torture scenes where Evey discovers her freedom. They are
mostly identical in book and film, and yet in the film there seems to be a logical
discrepancy. If V does reside in every one of us, if all it takes is to join collective social
action to become a part of the revolution, then why must Evey be subjected to such
torture? In the book it is clear, he is creating a new V, indeed it’s rather explicit that she
is the new V for the new world, one who won’t kill, who won’t destroy, but one who will
help build. But she has to undergo that process so that she too may transcend the
prisons which she has been raised to accept.
So what is V then? If V and then Evey have transcended, what have they
become? I believe that V comes to represent an iteration of the übermensch. Unlike the
Nazi version or other oppressive interpretations of the übermensch I believe that V is a
human who has overcome the limitations of humanity, someone who has become an
intellectual, a fighter, a revolutionary, a theatrical performer, a philosopher, an artist, and
quite literally a superhero.
Ubermensch translates roughly to over-man or super-man. Superman we all
know. And he will come into play here as we begin to look at the moral questions that
are brought about by such a being. What happens, when among the people, there is
someone clearly above and beyond them, their abilities, their capacities? In the case of
Superman, we know that due to his birthright and his upbringing, he lives by a moral
code of helping and trying to do right. But obviously with V we have someone whose
morals, because of the torture and oppression that have come to define him, are in
stark contrast to our tights-wearing heroes.
That is one of the clear appeals of V, one of the first anti-heroes. He is a hero, he
is our protagonist, and we root for him. And yet, while we understand his quest to
topple an oppressive regime, we witness morally questionable, often sadistic acts. He
is cutthroat, literally. He is more brutal in the book, and does not give a second thought
to taking lives, merely because he is taking the lives of those who are part of the
system he is trying to destroy. He is theatrical, and in this way he toys with his prey.
And this makes us question, are we ready to do similar things? Would we be willing to
go to these lengths? And we cannot forget that underlying all of this is, of course, a
vendetta, a carrying out of revenge in blood which to many of us would seem morally
reprehensible.
One way to approach it is that the ubermensch, or supermen, fall outside of the
rules of normal society. Normal society cannot contain V, what more this oppressive
totalitarian regime. When dealing with a superman, can we expect him or her to play by
the rules of normal society?
This is what we find often in comic books that are willing to question the
existence of beings that are, quite literally, superhuman. Moore did this definitively with
Watchmen, and many have followed in his footsteps. We think of all the comic book
villains whose claim to subjugating people, to exploiting and taking advantage of them
is their clear physical or mental superiority over normal people, and we also witness in
these books individuals who, endowed with superpowers, super strength and strong
moral fiber, become heroes and protectors.
And we see V falling somewhere in between. While he is shown to be physically
superior to other human beings, we must pay attention to his being cultured, his
artistry, flair for dramatics, and his being a connoisseur of art. This may seem like a
gimmick to make him cool, or just a quirky superhero trait, but aside from the torture
that he endured which define his motives and fuel his vengeance, his identity is also
defined by the great works of art which he has immersed himself in, and which he has
come to live by.
The arts which we often refer to as the humanities, and the concept of art as
that which humanizes us, connects us with all of culture across time and space. It is
essential that we refer to them if we are to understand the beliefs of V, and what drives
him. The arts make him human, breathe life into his burned body. But the movie
deprives V of this when, as he is dying, he says that Evey helped to make him feel
alive. In the comic book it is the art that makes him live, the art which he has collected
and that he appreciates that make life worth living. There’s the vendetta, yes, but there
is also the idea that he must celebrate the great music, film, literature, sculpture, and
painting.
This I believe is what causes him to be better than the oppressors. While the
oppressors wield power and influence against V’s subversion, what makes him more of
a human, more compassionate and caring of people in general, despite being terribly
brutal to the oppressors in particular, is that he believes in art and man’s ability to be
great through the creation of art. He believes in humanity, because he believes in the
humanities. He knows how people can become great, can become everlasting,
immortal, and transcendent. It is not through the machinations and control of the state,
but rather through individual accomplishment that we transcend ourselves and connect
with the whole of humanity.
And really, that is what is demanded in V’s anarchy. Unlike the film which shows
a toppled state and a collective action taking over, the comic book ends with Britain in
chaos. V’s job was to free them from their prison, as he freed Evey, and it was up to
humanity to do what they would with it, whether they would revert to faulty systems, or
would rise up to the idealized anarchy of V. V, knowing that he has no place in the new
world, allows himself to be shot in both versions, though the passing of the Shadow
Gallery to Evey is more pointed and meaningful in the comic book, as she becomes
protector of the ideals. Among V’s last words he says, “Anarchy wears two faces, both
creator and destroyer. Thus destroyers topple empires; make a canvas of clean rubble
where creators can then build a better world.
V’s anarchy is not the one that we most commonly think of when the word is
thrown about, where there is chaos and disorder. It is clear to V what anarchy is and
what his revolution is for: “Anarchy means ‘without leaders’ not ‘without order.’ With
anarchy comes an age of…true order which is to say voluntary order.”
To be able to attain such an anarchy would then require of all of us a desire to
become ubermensch, to transcend the pettiness of our lives, to live beyond the prison
of limitations, and to hold ourselves to a much more demanding, exacting code. We
see in V a commitment to right, to truth, and to art. And we see that he is
uncompromising in that. We also see that Evey, through what she has endured, will be
similarly uncompromising. For V’s anarchy to work, and for us to belong to such an
anarchy, it is clear that it’s not easy as joining in social action.
We must be idealists. V, after all, is an idealist, as any revolutionary must be. And
within the moral code that he has set for himself, he has created a kind of framework
for what he believes people should be. They should be intelligent, cultured free thinkers
who are willing to do what it takes for good to triumph over evil, even if that means that
the good must, at times, commit evil. These ambiguities are where revolutions and
revolutionaries get frightening and muddled. And that is where V offers some of his
best advice:
“’Midst insurrection’s clamor, we may forget just what it is for which we strive…
isn’t it dancing? Scented shoulders? Pupils widened by desire or wine? Anarchy must
embrace the din of bombs and cannon-fire…yet always must it love sweet music much
more.”
Freeing Culture
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net)
Before we go to the main discussion of Lawrence Lessig’s Free Culture, some
examples of copy infringement that help to frame my reactions while reading this book:
As a former member of the academe, I had to regularly watch out for plagiarism.
Plagiarism is, of course, academic dishonesty. Submitting something and trying to take
credit for it, trying to earn a grade for something you copy-pasted is despicable. On
one occasion I doubted a student’s work because he had faulty grammar, but had
produced a beautifully crafted poem that made use of Middle Eastern imagery. When I
asked him to write another poem, and asked where he had gotten those images in the
poem, he stammered, and then never showed up to class again.
Another time, a student who showed limited writing skills submitted a well-
written essay about her family of baseball fans. I had my doubts because of the
sudden leap in the level of writing, as well as the content being addressed. I googled
the first line of her essay, and it took me directly to a site of sample essays, where this
one had been copy-pasted in its entirety.
Those show clear, blatant examples of academic dishonesty. But what about the
gray areas? These will inevitably exist. For example, is failure to cite a source
tantamount to plagiarism, and should it receive a similar penalty? Or can the writer be
allowed to revise and include the reference?
And what happens when someone gives a speech that he had his speechwriters
write? Those speechwriters in turn cropping whole chunks from other speeches? How
do we consider this?
Aside from these academic examples we can look at the Michel Gondry film Be
Kind Rewind. For those unfamiliar with the film, it has two friends, played by Jack
Black and Mos Def, who, after an accident that erases all of the videos in their video
store, make their own versions of movies. They “remake” or shoot their own versions of
Ghostbusters, Robocop, Rush Hour 2, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and many other
popular Hollywood films. Lacking a proper name for what they are doing, they go with
the arbitrarily labe “swede” and rent out these “sweded” movies to the video store’s
clients. By the end of the film they have been found by Hollywood and their little
business crushed. But also by then, after being banned from copying content, the
amateur filmmakers, and the community that has supported them, have progressed to
making a pseudo-documentary of superior quality using the skills they learned from
“sweding.”
The reason why I go so long into these examples is that we are plagued by
plagiarism and its appearance in various contexts. But then it’s such a powerful
umbrella term, and concepts of copy infringement, though they do not usually affect us
directly as yet, will play a large role as we try to engage in global culture. And Be Kind
Rewind serves to encapsulate the main points of Lessig’s Free Culture, illustrating how
culture develops through copying and the movement towards genuine innovation
through a process first of copying.
Subtitled The Nature and Future of Creativity Lessig argues powerfully that we
must be allowed to copy content so that we can develop culture. He does this within
an American framework, referencing American laws, and referring to American cases.
But this clearly defined position of his does not prove detrimental to his points about
creativity, nor about cultural development, as the ideas he presents cut across cultures.
Though the book was first released in 2004, the issues it raises are ever
pressing, and its ability to examine these complex and nuanced issues illuminates
readers to the real problems that are at play. While detractors of “free culture” may try
to simplify the issue and mark it all as theft, Lessig elaborates on many points and
stories and thus turns his title not only from a thing to be prized, but as a rallying call;
free isn’t just an adjective in this case, as Lessig argues it, it becomes a very, and a
rather insistent and convincing one.
Lessig is a law professor who specialized in copyright law and who has fought
to do exactly what he says in his book. His failures at changing things through the legal
system led him to write this book, as he realized that it wasn’t just the law, but culture
and popular consciousness that had to be addressed.
Despite his legal background, Lessig does not bash readers over the head with
legalese, nor does he only write about the law. He powerfully and effectively argues for
a free culture though giving concrete examples and counterexamples to the various
arguments involved.
An example here would be his referencing Walt Disney himself as one of the
great “remixers” of culture. Disney took a Buster Keaton movie, Steamboat Bill, Jr. and
turned it into the now-iconic Steamboat Willie movie that first made Mickey Mouse
famous. Lessig argues that if the copyright laws we have today were in place, then
Disney would not have been able to do that. And yet Disney holds such powerful
control over its copyrights, most of them taken from other stories in the public domain
anyway.
More than arguing these points though, Lessig gives clear definitions for what
constitutes plagiarism, piracy, and other terms. Further, he addresses how digital
media, and the copying that happens online changes the dynamics of the law.
Returning to Be Kind Rewind, Free Culture describes the process that creators
often undergo. We start off as appreciators of culture well before anything else.
Appreciation leads to copying (how many artists today started out doodling comic
book characters? how many writers started out by writing fan fic?) and if these creators
continue, then they will progress to create new content.
Lessig argues that if you stifle this process, then you prevent would-be content
creators from going through crucial phases of development. And if that happens, then
you effectively prevent content from being created.
As I was reading Lessig’s arguments I could not help thinking about homages,
reworkings, and retellings. A lot of my literary work builds upon me reimagining and
retelling my favorite stories (stemming from my personal belief that there are a finite
number of stories, but an infinite number of ways to the tell them). And the film that I
co-wrote with Khavn dela Cruz serves not as a film on its own, but an amalgam of the
characters created by Lino Brocka and Bembol Roco, playing not just on the film itself
but the existence of those iconic characters in the pantheon of Philippine film.
If we were to follow the limiting definitions of copyright infringement as
described (and decried) by Lessig in his book, then I could probably be spending some
time in jail. The homage, and building upon existing creative work, standing on the
shoulders of giants as it were, is being systematically eliminated by the stringent rules
against plagiarism and copyright infringement.
The black and whites of the issue are clear enough, the copy-pasting students,
the students who submit work that is not their own, the movie DVD pirates. And these
things are clearly and quickly addressed by Lessig, so that he can move on to the
grays and the points that need to be studied and better understood by more people.
Lessig augments his legal knowledge with historical and contemporary
examples, and raises a number of issues which are thought-provoking and force
readers to reorient many of the labels that we have become too quick to apply. This
doesn’t mean, of course, that plagiarism is now, nor will it ever be acceptable. But it
does argue that copying is not a grave offense as we have been led to believe.
Sampling, mixing, matching, reworking, reimagining, the fan impetus, all these
things lead us towards new creative directions that we would not reach if we did not do
them. Reading Lessig’s impassioned argument that we be allowed to do these things,
as well as be allowed access to out of print books and other cultural artifacts that are
no longer available on the commercial market (old movies, TV broadcasts, etc) is
exciting as it shows a bright future for creativity with all that would become available to
us.
I believe that if the kind of thinking that Lessig argues for will lead to a more
creative, more culturally diverse future filled with intelligent user-generated content. I
can’t help but think that in that kind of environment, in that kind of future plagiarism will
disappear, as it’s not grades or other rewards being chased, but the exhilaration of
creating something that is your own and sharing it with people.
If we think about plagiarism we see that it is motivated by an extrinsic goal, the
grade. The student is not after personal development, but the grade. And thus I believe
that if students were given more freedom to create, and were allowed the feeling of
accomplishment and fulfillment in creating, then they would chase that more than the
grade. At present though, our society is about grades and degrees.
A change in our thinking and the way to perceive creation and culture could go a
long way towards remedying these trends, much further than the punitive measures
with which we address these issues today. Lawrence Lessig’s Free Culture would
contribute greatly to this trend, and I hope that a lot of educators and policy-makers
and content creators pick it up and use it to help them reimagine the way that we
perceive culture and how it is distributed.
Future of the Book
(I delivered this talk at the first Future of the Book conference in 2010. I’m happy to look back on it now and see how so many of the features I was talking about are now actually standard in e-book readers.)
I feel that I only began to truly love books when I felt their scarcity.
When I was a kid, books abounded. I was a member of the school book club. For
a time I worked at the Glendale public library. When the library would get new editions
of books, the old librarian would allow me to pick through and take home old editions,
before throwing them out. I was really uncool obviously, but that was offset by what I
perceived to be the cool ability of reading lots of books, which I felt would be an
important trait in my future which I envisioned had something to do with the science
fiction that I was always reading.
Moving to the Philippines though, and then my family hitting hard times, led to a
constraint on almost everything. This also meant that there were no books around and I
stopped reading. For most of the time that I was in high school, I could not be
bothered to read because I was probably too drunk. And well, I didn’t have anything to
read.
But when I went to college, I was introduced to book-hunting. Having taken some
literature classes and having met professors and friends who exposed me to good
books, I got into reading again. In 1999-2000, in my freshman year, I began buying the
books that constitute the library I have now. (On a side note, I believe that these books
may be only about two-thirds if not half of all the books I’ve bought since then, as I
have always been lending books to people, and these books rarely ever come back.)
The thing was that I had to learn how to buy books on my 60 peso-per-day allowance.
I learned to hit the book sales and one particular place that I spent a lot of time
was the fourth floor of National Book Store in Cubao. It’s a very different place now, but
I remember there were great Saturday mornings spent there. I would be going through
all the shelves and racks, these books all unorganized, and most days I’d come out
with nothing, but there were some days that were magic and I’d find just the right book
and the radio would be tuned to the rock station and they’d be playing Pearl Jam or
Guns N’ Roses at the exact moment that I picked up the latest book that would change
my life.
There were always so many books, so much in any bargain book place I went,
and most of it would be stuff that I would never bother reading. But I went for the
experience, for the joy finding of something. The value of the book would not just be
tied to its price, but to the great lengths I went to find it, and to what I would believe
was the great fortune I had in being in the right store at the right time. And though
today I can generally afford to buy new books, I still find that thrill in finding that great
book on the cheap. It might be due to the kinds of things that I read and write, but
perhaps I think of this kind of book buying as a kind of quest. Again, it’s not just the
thing acquired, but all that goes into acquiring it that gives it more value, and helps to
develop my love as a reader.
When we think of the movement towards digital, then we can see that these
quests will no longer be necessary. Sure old book hounds will still be doing this, but
will those who are younger even bother with such a thing? This romanticized notion will
most likely be lost on them, or maybe some will find it quaint. But really, when most
books are only a few keystrokes away, who could be bothered to spend hours digging
through shelves and piles of old books (assuming that these places will still be around.
Of the more than five spots that I used to hit in Cubao, there is only one left)?
This means that the experiences that we will have from now on will be
fundamentally different. We cannot take whatever it is we do with books now and think
that we can merely port them to a digital experience. We will have to build the digital
book experience from the ground up. It’s important that we take a look at the things
that we love about books, the things that we will be losing when we are dealing with
the digital (bits) as opposed to the physical (atoms), and consider how we not only
make the experiences similar, but how we can maximize the differences in the two
mediums to provide the best possible experience in each.
To be concrete about this, let’s take a favorite experience of book lovers: smelling
the pages of a new book. People who love books will confess to flipping books open,
sticking their noses deep into the book, and taking a nice long sniff. Some may even
accompany this inhalation with a closing of eyes.
The new book smell is something that many people love. And I think that if some
air freshener company would develop such a scent then they would have an immediate
market of book nerds. But this is an experience that will be lost on those who start out
with digital. The only solution that I can find, which I think is quite clever, is that all e-
book readers come with scratch-and-sniff functions. Hey, movies are going back to 3-
D, why not books going back to scratch-and-sniff? Of course this is impractical and it
just doesn’t make sense to consider this when thinking about digital, but hey, why not
bring it up, if only to acknowledge how big a part of book buying the new-book-smell is
and to highlight the great differences in the experience between atoms and bits. (Think
after all this talk of the new-book-smell, how many times did I stop and sniff a nearby
book as I was writing this, and how many of you have tried to recall the joy of smelling
a new book as I described it?)
But moving on, I suppose that the primary concern would be the technology on
which we will be reading our digital books and how much it will cost. We see some
clear advantages with digital, beyond say, saving the trees. Among these is the ability
to carry around a large number of books at any given time with only the weight of your
reader slowing you down and for small apartment dwellers like me there’s more space
because you don’t have to accommodate all those books on shelves or all over your
house.
I’ll question the importance of being able to bring around lots of books though.
When you compare this with say, being able to bring loads of music around, there’s a
very clear difference. The iPod allowed you to walk around with your whole music
library, and that was great because when you suddenly felt the urge to listen to
something or other, it was just a few swipes on the clickwheel away. But with books,
unless you are suddenly struck by the need to read a Shakespearean sonnet or a
section of “The Wasteland” (okay I’ll admit that I have had those moments) then you’ll
probably only be needing a few books on your reader, maybe the main books you’re
reading, and if you’re a student the stuff that you’re studying.
I’m thinking about how important it is to have books in my house or in whichever
office I might be working in. Often, as an English teacher, I would find myself needing a
poem or a short story because I would think of using it, or would like to reference it in
some way or other. That’s why I never got rid of my books, so that they would always
be around in the case that I would need them. Now I feel that these two cases, not
needing so much memory, but having access to whatever you need, are two important
things.
I don’t believe that our readers have to have massive memory capacity. The iPad’s
lowest offering is 16GB, Kindle comes with 4GB internal. But then the digital book I’m
reading now, in PDF form, is only 2.14MB! More important than having lots of space
would be access to books from anywhere at anytime. Assuming that we are buying our
books from online stores, it would be a wonderful feature if, after having purchased the
book, we could be free to download it at any time. That way, we wouldn’t necessarily
have to have it saved on our readers or hard drives, eating up space, but they could be
contained within the seller’s servers, ready for us to access and download whenever
we wanted. I know that facilitating this kind of service would be difficult and is a
possible coding and security nightmare, but if offered, this could make the publisher
who facilitates it great. All my books, in the cloud, and I could just grab them and read
them anytime that I wanted.
Now’s a good a time, as any, to start talking about costs. First off is considering
the costs of readers. In my own experience, aside from computers, I’ve read e-books
on my iPod Touch (P12,000) and my Smartphone (P14,000). Both are rather small
affairs, and while the iPod had a passable interface for reading books, it was still
wanting as an e-book reader. At present the prettiest looking thing on the market is the
iPad, which can supposedly goes for as cheap as P24,000. And there’s the Kindle,
which has gone down to about $140, in response to the iPad. There are other readers
on the market, but it seems that these are the ones that dominate. Now, let’s compare
the costs with my book buying habits.
I will usually spend between P2,000 and P3,000 per month on books. Whether I
ever wind up reading all these books (and you book buyers know that the pile of to-
read is always rising), I do keep acquiring them. If we go for an estimate of P2,500 per
month, then that comes to an annual budget of P30,000. This is well beyond even the
cheapest iPad. This means that if I diverted funds from buying books in atom form,
then I could easily afford an e-book reader.
The difference is that I never actually feel that I’ve spent so much on books. I’ll go
into a store and pick something up for 600 or 700 bucks. Then I’ll notice something on
sale and snatch it up at 200 bucks. And then a friend will launch their book and I’ll buy
it for maybe 300. And I never feel that I’m spending too much, as opposed to the lump
sum cost of buying a reader.
Now I have to wonder, is there some kind of way that the readers can be priced
cheaply? I know that the iPad is a wonder machine, and if given an opportunity, that’s
probably what I would get. But what about the Apple haters? And those people who
just want a dedicated reader? Can we come up with a manageable price for a simple
reader?
Beyond that manageable price for a reader, can we actually convince people to
pay for their digital books? This is the same problem that the music industry faced, and
it failed in such dismal fashion in its attempts to address it by making war with music
piracy. What are the possible options? What might be viable business models for
distributing e-books?
The obvious one will be to sell them the way that Apple sells songs and other
media on iTunes. Per book, you’d click and then download the book onto your
computer or reader (keeping in mind that it’s always a bonus if you can offer books in a
format that can be read on various devices) and pay a set amount for that book. These
prices could be scaled, depending on, well the kind of value. However, these values
will have to be reassessed. Working with atoms things are clear, you’re paying for
hardbound or paperback, size of the book, number of pages, and other physical
concerns. But these things are all generally negligible when working with bits, as only a
few seconds would differentiate the rates of transfer for books of different length or
edition.
I don’t see how viable this would be though. While this might work in the West, I
feel like we will have to find another model that would better suit our readership. What
this model is, I’m not sure yet, but I can venture some ideas or suggestions.
The first that I can think of is the Freemium model. We could give away our books
online, and then ask people to buy the physical copy of the book. This has been found
effective when the release of the free digital version and of the print version have been
well organized. Some people will decide that they want to have an atoms version of the
book. It’s easier to write in, you can have it signed, it looks nice on your bookshelf, and
you can smell it! But this also means that a large number of people will download the
book and won’t buy it. The upside is that you reach a much larger audience of people
who might buy your book if you’ve given it away initially.
Giving the book away probably doesn’t sound like good business sense, but
developing a Freemium model may be the way to go. You’ll notice that bands have
done this. They have given their albums away and have monetized by selling
merchandise, special edition releases of their albums, and concert tickets. While I think
it would be awesome if book authors could sell the equivalent of concert tickets, it
probably won’t happen. But there may be some other way to tweak the Freemium
model to make it profitable. One way that comes to mind might be to do the opposite
of what I just proposed. Ask people to buy an atoms copy of the book, and then they
can have a free digital copy of it from anywhere. Once again the question of piracy
exists there but let’s accept that we will never get away from the problem of piracy and
it’s just something we’ll have to work with. I still think, though, that giving the digital
copy away free may work in certain cases. What this would mean for people who are
making a move away from the physical and to digital, and how we might monetize from
their patronage, presents its own problems if this Freemium model were adapted.
Another option I see is subscriptions. Publishers could offer whole copies of their
catalogs at monthly or annual rates. Subscription rates could be customized, like
cable, where you have basic packages, and then add-on channels, and specials. Again
this is an iffy set up. What would help to make this set up viable would be easy
payment programs. Of course subscriptions would necessitate regular new content
along with the back catalogs offered. And I realize that monetizing is once again
difficult in this case. How much do you pay your authors? A flat rate? If not, how do
you compute for royalties? By download activity? These are all dynamics which will
have to be explored by online publishers, and there are many many more things to
consider.
Notice that I only discuss money at a limited level. This is for two reasons. One is
that I am very bad at math. The second reason is that I realize that when you look at
these models you see that it is going to be very hard to come up with a business model
that will fit with our already-limited book-buying public. In my head I’m thinking, how
many people can you get to subscribe? And why would they when they can just
download most books for free anyway?
And that’s really the big question that I’ve been tippy-toeing around all this time.
How do you get people to pay for something that they could probably get for free?
How do I manage to sell books when people say, “Ang mahal naman! Bigyan mo na
lang ako” for a book that only costs P220. Obviously we can’t appeal to people’s
better nature, much as we would like to. It means that you have to offer a service for
distributing e-books that is not merely a distribution service, but an experience. You
have to build an experience that people will enjoy, and an experience which people will
take pride in being a part of.
If it isn’t obvious yet, I am a member of the Cult of Mac, and one of the things that
a member learns is that membership is a point of pride, ownership of Mac products,
though more expensive than other products of similar function, shows not only the
capacity to buy more (and it’s a myth that Mac users are richer, it’s just that a lot of
Mac users are willing to save up for Mac products because they realize the value) but it
is equated with the knowledge that one is buying better. It’s money well spent. And
Apple has made it so that you have an experience, and you foster a sense of belonging
in a group. One willingly brands oneself a Mac User, and wears that consumerist label
as a badge of authority.
It’s this kind of fervor that one needs to rouse when attempting to convince
people not to buy pirated and trying to get them to pay for something that, with a little
time and maybe some ingenuity, they could get for free. There will be physical
manifestations to it, but convincing people that they should be paying for content will
involve a shifting in consciousness.
This really means designing a process which would be unique to the buying of
digital books, and making this process something quick, easy, simple, and intuitive. It
would have to be as simple as wanting a book and, in a few clicks, having it in your
reader. While I think that a whole design team would be best deployed to conceptualize
and make iterations of this experience, I will make an attempt at illustrating the kinds of
things that I would hope for:
I’ve just heard that Greg Brillantes has edited a collection of short stories,
featuring his favorite stories published in the last twenty years. It’s a must-have, so I
log onto the site where I have a registered account and search for his new book. Along
with this new book, other titles pop up, among them Brillantes’s short story collections
and a literary biography about him. I remember loving “Faith, Love, Time, and Dr.
Lazaro” and I see that it has passed into public domain. I download a copy of that
short story. While the book is downloading straight to my reader, I check out the list of
authors. All the author’s names are hyperlinked. I see the name Carljoe Javier. (I know,
but again, we’re talking about a kind of dream sequence here, so indulge me.) I click on
that and see his other books. I’m not sure if I really want to download his books, but I
open one up and take a look at a few pages, browsing through some of the opening
paragraphs of some of his essays. I set it aside, put it into my maybe bin. If I like the
story that he wrote in the Brillantes collection, then I will go back to the maybe bin and
download his book.
The download of the Brillantes collection finishes. A widget I’ve installed asks me
if I would like to update my Facebook status and Tweet that I am now reading Greg
Brillantes’s collection. I send the update, and another widget informs me that my friend
has started reading the book and he has posted his comments and annotations. I
access his annotations, but only up until the introduction. I enable comments as well,
so that I can post my comments and annotations of the book in real time, to be shared
with other friends who might be reading it. We can have online discussions, and
eventually, copy these discussions and if we are so inclined co-author a literary
criticism essay, which we can post in the same site where we downloaded the book.
This paper can be accessed by the site’s users in helping them decide whether they
should get the book themselves.
Other users find our reading of the collection very informative and so they rank us
highly. Our rankings as users increases, and we develop a kind of online prestige. As a
result, another user who I don’t know sends me a message and a book. She has just
finished reading this book, and after seeing what I wrote about the Brillantes’s
collection, she’s interested in what I will think of this book. I download it, based on her
suggestion, and we begin a discourse, shooting comments to each other back and
forth. I recommend a book to her as well.
In attempts to drum up buzz for the book, the publishers organize an online
discussion with Greg Brillantes. Seeing my enthusiasm for the book and the time I’ve
put into it, I get contacted to join a panel that will get to ask the author questions. While
the members of the panel are asking questions, viewers are posting comments and
questions, and these are addressed. By the end of the show, it’s announced that a
limited edition release of the book will be coming out, signed by all the authors. Fans
can also buy the regular print copy.
The following day, I’m reading a short story that plays around with comic book
characters. Remembering one of my favorite books by Michael Chabon, I decide that
I’d like to go over that again. I flip through the selection, and download it to my reader
and start reading. After a chapter, I set it aside. When I pick it up again, I fumble with
the reader and mistakenly erase the book. I log back into the site and download the file
again in a matter of seconds, and I’m back to reading.
That’s the kind of experience that I would like to have with the reader. I would
like it to be as simple as possible. It would harness the full power of the internet and
social networking. And it would be seamless. No having to enter lots of passwords, no
constant reminders. No bothering with credit cards and access numbers every time
that I download something. I want the books to be there in the cloud, ready for me to
snatch at any time.
This would be in stark contrast to my experience with books in atom form. I
would still keep going to book stores and that experience would be classified by books
that I don’t know about and had no plans of buying. Or I would be getting special
versions that offer something that the electronic versions cannot.
No Line on the Horizon: The Merging of Readers and Writers through Social Media
(As of this writing, I will be delivering this paper at the first Filipino Reader Conference, to be held at the Manila International Book Fair 2011.)
There used to be a clear line that divided authors from readers. The thickness of
this line could change, but it maintained the divide. This line was the spine of a book.
“The book with your name on the spine,” I was regularly told, was the goal, the be all
and end all that would make one an author. And for a long time this held true.
But not anymore.
Now the line is disappearing. We knew, we always knew, that good writers had
to be good readers. But the transition from good reader to good writer was a rare thing,
hindered by modes of production and access to readership. With the net, blogging,
social networking, and all of the great things that you can do online though, anybody
can write, and anybody can be read. And that’s a beautiful thing.
Well, it’s beautiful to me. It’s scary and ugly to a lot of people though. Scary
because suddenly there’s no gatekeeper, no one to ensure that things are “of quality.”
And ugly because, well, lots of ugly stuff can be thrown up online. I’ve been troll-fodder
myself. And I’ve seen people who have no other agenda than to bring others down be
given an opportunity to do so online, without fear of repercussions. And like all of us
here, I’ve also read more than my fair share of slush-pile material, of work that should
be greeted with nothing less than a Mega-Facepalm. Still, I believe in and fully embrace
the range of quality and range of content that is now available to us because of the
intarwebz.
Now a disclaimer. I come from a traditional, old-school Creative Writing and
publishing background. I graduated from a traditional Creative Writing program. I
worked in print for a long time. And so if you came from this background, until you
were published in the Free Press, you were a nobody. Until you won a Palanca, you
hadn’t proven yourself. And without those things, you could not publish a book.
So I went through the traditional processes of becoming an author. I applied to
and was accepted at the writing workshops. I enrolled in the Creative Writing program.
I tried to publish in the major Philippine publications and anthologies. I joined the
various writing contests. And though I found a measure of success and readership, all
that didn’t seem to be right for my writing. I struggled and scrapped in the system, got
disheartened, gave up on my writing because it wasn’t going anywhere, came back to
it, gave up again; at a certain point I thought, there has to be a different way, there has
to be some other way to reach readers and get read. The problem was that the
traditional modes were not offering this. This is not a revolutionary attack against the
traditional programs and institutions of literature, but rather it’s to say that there is now
a different way to go about things.
There were a number of reasons why I wound up looking for an alternative. One
of these was that, well to be honest, my writing wasn’t as big a hit in the traditional
mode as I would have liked. A good part of that is due to the content, which is
generally funny or in the speculative fiction mode. The traditional institutions at the time
did not acknowledge speculative fiction as a literary mode. I was told, “Until you stop
writing these kinds of stories, you will not be taken seriously.” Now if it was hard
enough to be taken seriously because I was writing science-fiction and fantasy, well it
was even harder to be taken seriously because I was writing funny essays.
For a while I had hoped to become a war reporter or hard-hitting opinion
columnist, making social commentary and big statements about how to make the
world better. But I found that my temperament and though process veered more
towards humor, and finding the funny aspects of things. This temperament has held me
in good stead in life, and has paved a way for an identity in my writing. But at the start
it was difficult to establish myself as a writer worth reading because I wasn’t writing the
heavy, life-changing, epiphany-inducing stuff that the literati looked for in their fiction.
I believed though, that while these weren’t the kinds of things that the good old
literary institutions went for, there were readers out there who would like to read the
stuff that I was writing. And so I decided to leave the establishment and strike off on
my own, trying to find a different way to publish and to be read.
What I did was I published independently, and then I marketed aggressively
online. My first book was released through a traditional, albeit small, publisher. They
distributed through traditional means, which means big old NBS. And it did alright,
selling something around 380 copies in one year. However, my independently
published book, which eschewed the traditional publishing and distribution models,
sold more than 400 copies in about three months. Now I know those numbers are
small, but then the numbers for local literature, excepting the likes of Bob Ong, Jessica
Zafra, Ichi Batacan, and Trese, are usually small anyway. A bestseller sells out a print
run, usually a print run of a thousand. So to go indie and sell that many copies was
quite an accomplishment.
But beyond book sales, there were a lot of things I learned and got to
experience with the release of The Kobayashi Maru of Love. One is that it isn’t bad to
give stuff away. I initially gave copies of the book away, in PDF formats, letting people
pass it around. This apparently didn’t affect sales, as I did pretty well. My commitment
to giving stuff away extends to a current experiment which I began last week. I gave
away my latest book for my birthday. The jury is still out on this one (though as you
would expect, lots of people thought this was crazy) but I do hope that if nothing else,
it gets more people to read my books.
I also learned that you didn’t have to go through the big gatekeepers and get the
approval of the bigwigs of Philippine literature to do your thing. All you had to do was
write, write with a passion, and back up that passion with craft.
A lesson I learned from a bad thing happening was the importance of timing.
While the print version of the The Kobayashi Maru of Love came out a few days before
the launch, ensuring that I would be able to sell at the launch (and I bagged more than
100 copies at the launch then), the digital version was a failure. While I did all the
promotions and marketing that I could for it, the digital version was released many
months after the launch date, and with kinks too. And up until now, a year after the
digital launch, the digital publisher of Kobayashi Maru has yet to provide me with sales
reports or any other data about how the book did. Considering the relative success of
the print version, it’s a shame that the excitement generated was not translated to the
digital version. This isn’t a point against digital publishing; far from it. I love digital
publishing. But rather it’s a call to say that your digital publisher has to care for your
book and believe in it and work on it just as much as you do. Sadly, my digital
publisher has made it clear that they really don’t care about the book; this is
particularly sad considering that another major publisher has shown interest in
releasing a new print run of the book based on its performance.
One of the best things I got out of the experience though was that I had to learn
on my own how to go about mounting an online marketing campaign. Without any real
marketing resources available other than the internet, I found that utilizing social
networks, blogs, and other online communities was the best way to promote the book.
And through this kind of promotion, I was able to meet a lot of people who are readers
and who are bloggers.
Now that’s a physical space where the line between reader and writer disappear.
As an author, I found it crucial that I connect with the blogging community. As a result, I
attended meet-ups, gave talks, and just hung out with people who enjoyed reading and
writing about the stuff they had read.
More importantly, I saw how connecting with readers meant transcending
physical spaces. I was meeting readers online, via twitter, tumblr, Facebook. People
would drop a line on my blog, send me a message on Facebook, or tweet me and get a
conversation started. And I realized, hey man, this is great. I was connected with like-
minded people who had happened to read my work. But there were all kinds of other
things that we could talk about. And I visited their blogs.
It was there, reading people’s blogs or reading reviews on sites like goodreads
or shelfari, that the trend became most clear. We are witnessing, as I said, the
crumbling of the line between writer and reader, or in the more technical terms, the rise
of the pro-sumer. Where content producers and content consumers were once divided
by modes of production, the content consumers now have the power to produce
content too. This producing of content can be as simple as snapping a video with your
cellphone and throwing it up on your flickr or youtube, or it can take as much time and
care as the book reviews that a lot of people here write.
So we get to see here the nice nifty overlaps. Sure writers were readers first, but
readers are writing, and writers are reading what readers are writing. Does that sound
kind of circular? I’ll tell you, it’s circular, and it’s awesome. We now often turn to the net
to provide us with content to read, and with new ideas, and new ways to look at things
immediately. Previously, to read critical readings of contemporary texts, you had to wait
around for book collections or academic journals or things like that. But now, even on
the day a movie comes out, or a book becomes available, there are already discussion
boards and readings of it. I think of Inception, which was one of those movies that you
had to talk to people about, and a day or two after it came out, there were critical
readings and various analyses already available, and so much net chatter that it was
enlightening to read what all of these different pro-sumers were writing, pro-sumers
who had consumed the film but were producing literature about it.
Now I’ve introduced the word literature and opened up a can of worms. The
debate of literature with a big or a small L has been going on for decades in the literary
world. Fights over what belongs in the canon, whether other forms such as found
poetry or comics are literature (and yes, if you ask me, comics are most definitely
literature), and what can be considered art and what’s lowbrow still bother those in the
academe. But you know what? Outside of the academe, that doesn’t matter. People
are reading. And people write about what they read. And I as an author and as a reader
have learned that what’s good for the academe only goes so far in helping me develop.
If I listened to the the academic institutions and the literary bigwigs, dude I’d never
have read Alan Moore or Warren Ellis or Garth Ennis or JMS. I wouldn’t have read
major influences like Gary Shteyngart and Dave Eggers and Michael Chabon because
they were’t on any of the syllabi (though they were included in my syllabus when I was
teaching). Readers read, and readers who are online read even more, and write about
so much more than we literature majors and literature professors could ever hope to
read. Bloggers have such a wide range of genres and sub-genres and specializations
that it’s exciting to see how much and how can be read, and how perceptively all these
can be approached.
And so now as a person who struggles to write, and to always write better, I turn
to book bloggers and status message updates on goodreads and facebook. Where in
my youth and while studying I turned to professors and the reading lists of authors to
guide my reading, now I turn to people online who are reading all over the literary world
and finding those gems and letting them bubble up to the top using social media and
social networking.
As a person working in the publishing industry, having witnessed the power of
new media, I am making constant efforts to reach out to readers through new media.
I’ve convinced the publishing houses that I’ve worked for that getting bloggers to
review our books is almost as, if not more important than getting books reviewed in
broadsheets. I hope to organize events that allow authors and readers to meet, so that
there can be an increased awareness of the readership, which will hopefully help to
inspire authors. And I hope to tap into all of these new media that are available to me
to help increase awareness and reading of Filipino literature.
It’s important to note that while there are a number of Filipino writers that have
made it internationally, it seems to me that it’s the FIlipino bloggers and book club
members who have been more successful in creating an international online presence.
Many book bloggers here receive review copies from international publishers. Many
bloggers here are known the world over and generate a lot of traffic to their site. The
kind of traffic and the kind of attention that Filipino literary writers aspire to. And so I
guess I’m also here to learn too from bloggers, to see how you guys have broken into
the international scene.
More than that though, I am also here to ask the Filipino book clubs, Filipino
book bloggers, the Filipino readers, to read books written by Filipinos. I know the
problems that Philippine literature has, such as readability, authors writing the kinds of
works that readers would want to read, a lack of awareness of the titles that are
available, a lack of distribution and a need for a more prominent position in bookstores.
I’m hoping this will be a rallying cry that binds the Filipino pro-sumers, that pushes all
of us to write and promote each other. To bring all that we are doing here to a global
consciousness.
Test Drive: An Exploration of Contemporary Trends in Thought in Art and Science Towards a Consummation of the Play Drive
(This paper was written for an MA Literary Theory class. It tries to bring together my parallel interests in arts and sciences.)
When entering college, one is asked to make a choice. More often than not we,
as incoming freshmen, are forced to choose between two pairs of letters, BA or BS.
There is a fundamental divide there, and although we attend universities and get a
universal or holistic education, there is at the start of our educations this clear division
in our fields of study.
As a student, forced to choose between the two tracks, science or the liberal
arts, I chose the liberal arts. And because of the structures and the manner in which
the general education subjects such as the natural sciences and math were taught, I
developed a distinct disdain for those fields. I chose to, after putting math and science
behind me, devote my reading and study solely to the arts.
Despite my decision to read solely in the arts, mainly fiction and poetry, I found
that through my readings, and as I made my own attempts at writing, particularly in
science fiction, that I desired more knowledge of the hard sciences. I read poetry about
physics and found myself wanting a better understanding of that world, for
consciousness of the scientific world meant a greater grasp of this world which
enveloped me.
So in myself I found that a knowledge of the arts was insufficient and this led to
much reading of layman’s science and math books, the kind of literature that could
bridge the gap, could allow someone with a background in the arts to understand and
appreciate the arts. In these readings I was able to find concepts that overlapped,
parallels, ideas that could do well to be merged, to be explored using both
backgrounds.
In reading Friedrich Von Schiller’s Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man I
have found that this struggle that I’ve encountered in my reading, the realization of the
lack of knowledge I have because of my attention to only one aspect, is a
manifestation of Schiller’s writings on the separation of the drives. Schiller posited that
man possesses two drives, the sensuous drive “proceeds from the physical existence
of man…the domain of this drive embraces the whole extent of man’s finite being… it
is also this drive alone which makes their complete fulfillment possible.” Meanwhile,
the formal drive “proceeds from the absolute existence of man, or from his rational
nature, and is intent on giving him the freedom to bring harmony into the diversity of his
manifestations, and to affirm his person among all his changes of condition…that drive
which insists on affirming the personality can never demand anything but that which is
binding upon it to all eternity…embraces the whole sequence of time, which is as
much as to say: it annuls time and annuls change. It wants the real to be necessary
and eternal, and the eternal and the necessary to be real.”
Schiller sees the division, that which is based on the sensuous, or the physical
experiences of this world brought to us through our senses, and the formal, which is
man’s need to give form and meaning to those things around him. According to
Schiller, modern society has further divided the drives through the various impositions
that societies make on man.
Despite that, he says that these two are not irreconcilable. In fact, there was a
time before they were separated, the time of the Ancient Greeks. Schiller believes that
there is a third drive which the two drives will transcend to, the play drive. Schiller says:
…the play drive…would be directed towards annulling time within time, reconciling, becoming with absolute being and change with identity. The sense-drive wants to be determined, wants to receive its object; the form-drive wants itself to determine, wants to bring forth its object. The play-drive, therefore, will endeavor so to receive as if it had itself brought forth, and so to bring forth as the intuitive sense aspires to receive. The sense-drive excludes from its subject all autonomy and freedom; the form-drive excludes from its subject all dependence, all passivity. Exclusion of freedom, however, implies physical necessity, exclusion of passivity moral necessity. Both drives therefore, exert constraint upon the psyche; the former through the laws of nature, the latter through the laws of reason. The play-drive, in consequence, as the one on which both the others act in concert, will exert upon the psyche at once a moral and a physical constraint; it will, therefore, since it annuls all contingency, annul all constraints too, and set man free both physically and morally…The play drive…will make our formal as well as our material disposition, our perfection, as well as our happiness contingent.
These drives have been separated, as Schiller observes. However I believe that
in times of great intellectual flourish, there can be a breaking down of the divide
between the drives. One need only refer to the Renaissance, when social theory,
science, and literature found opportunities for great growth, to see that the confluence
of the zeitgeist and a development of both intellect and art can bring about expressions
of the play-drive.
Our time, the twentieth century and in the years of the new millennium, have
shown the greatest advances in history. In terms of scientific knowledge, economic
growth, technological capacity, and sheer intellectual production in all fields of study,
no period has seen such growth and advancement as this, the information age and the
years that led to it. Similarly, literary production, thanks to mass media outlets, modern
production, the internet, and various avenues for innovation afforded to the
contemporary writer, has seen great diversity and quality.
We see that our time is one in which we might see a consummation of the play-
drive, or at least a close approximation. The divide that has been held up between the
empirical or natural sciences and the liberal arts and philosophy is closing as these two
sides start looking to each other for further understanding. It is observable that there is
no conscious effort; however we can see that there are clear attempts towards the
play-drive. In the time when science and technology are dizzyingly vast and the arts are
struggling to situate themselves in an increasingly changing and digitizing world, we
see that here is the opportunity for the interactions of the drives to further knowledge
and understanding and the creation of various new forms of play.
With the increase in resources and the developments in study in the twentieth
century, there was much specialization done. While one might think that specialization
is counter to the idea of the play-drive, this specialization has actually helped lead to a
mingling of disciplines. As specialists in their fields saw the expanses of knowledge
within their studies, they also came to observe the limitations that their disciplines had.
As new questions arose it became clear that oftentimes it took more than one
discipline to understand and come closer to answers for those questions.
It sounds complicated, but the process is rather simple and more than sensible.
For example, a biologist studies the brain in the hopes of finding answers to behavioral
questions, looking to the physical aspects of the brain to give explanation to his
questions. The biologist can identify the various parts of the brain and their functions
and she can connect processes to certain behaviors. However, if the biologist decides
to incorporate theories based on psychology, then she has some basic behavioral
explanations that she could start from, testing these ideas against the neurological
findings. A mixture of social theory and science lead to a new field of study,
biopsychology, which might find new answers and ideas which would not have been
found, had the researcher chosen to limit her study to her specialization, biology.
Another field that benefits from its interdisciplinary nature is the study of emergent
behavior. A field that explains the kinds of behavior that are common to ant colonies,
cities, organs of the body, computer programs, and many other phenomenon,
complexity theory comes out of a combination physics, biology, social theory, and
economics.
While reading about complexity theory I stumbled upon the Theory of Other
Minds, developed just in the twentieth century. Through studies done by British
psychologists, it has been found that we humans begin to identify and infer what
others think, or “mind read” at the age of four. At that age we recognize that there are
other minds at work, other consciousnesses aside from ourselves. The study focused
on the age at which we become aware of other minds and begin thinking what others
think. As a reader though, I could not help but be intrigued by this idea, that this “mind
reading” is not innate but rather something that is developed at a certain age. With this
knowledge, and the common practice of writers to assume various roles as narrator,
then one might think applying the findings of that theory to explorations of narrative
structures, especially those that use multiple narrators in one text, might make
intriguing material. The findings of that study would then make for interesting reading
on how we construct our narrators and how the writer takes on these myriad minds.
In these readings I have found that poetic concepts and philosophical inquiries
have been turned to by scientists to fuel their questions or to give them direction. For
example, certain studies in experimental psychology attempt to link empirical cognitive
science and classic themes from existential philosophy. The great questions of
consciousness posited by epistemological thinkers give rise to studies in
consciousness and brain function. Similarly, I believe that there are numerous findings
and exciting ideas being explored by scientists that are more than ripe for the creative
writer to turn into literature, taking the findings of the sensuous-drive, combining it with
the formal-drive, and coming up with texts which incorporate both, making attempts at
the play-drive.
For example, one of the most memorable word etymologies I’ve come across is
that of the words memory and remember, coming from the root memorar, which means
to pass through the heart. As explained by poet Gemino Abad, not only is the act of
remembering something you do with your head, but it’s done with your heart, that that
idea passes through your heart to become a memory. While we are aware that the
heart referred to here is metaphorical, one might look to new ideas in neuroscience that
might lead us to a similarly poetic activity.
Recent developments in the technology available for observing the brain have
offered a great wealth of knowledge. However, at this point, it is still unproven where
exactly, in a physical sense, memories reside. Neuroscientist Terence Sejnowski offers
an intriguing idea of memory:
My hunch is that the substrate of old memories is located not inside the (brain) cells but outside, in the extracellular space. That space is not empty but filled with a matrix of tough material that connects cells and helps them maintain their shape. Like scar tissue, the matrix is difficult to dissolve and is replaced, very slowly, if at all…When the neuromuscular junction is activated, the muscle contracts. If the nerve activates a muscle is crushed, the nerve fiber grows back to the junction, forming a specialized nerve terminal ending. This occurs even if the muscle cell is also killed. The “memory” of the contact in this case is preserved by the extracellular matrix at the neuromuscular junction, called the basal lamina. The extracellular matrix at synapses in the brain may have a similar function and could well maintain overall connectivity despite the comings and goings of molecules and neurons…It might be possible someday to stain this memory exoskeleton and see what our memories look like.
This idea offers numerous possibilities. One is the idea that one day we might be
able to see someone’s memories. Another is that there is actual physical “scarring”
involved when something is transferred from our short term to our long term memory. It
is poetic to believe that we are scarred or that things that are memorable leave an
indelible mark on our souls, and still even more poetic is the possibility that there may
be actual physical “scarring” that occurs when we commit something to memory. Here
we can see the interplay of the sensuous-drive and the formal-drive again, how there
are clear overlaps between them, and how an awareness of these overlaps offer an
opportunity to transcend to the play-drive.
An even simpler, and yet equally interesting example of an idea that shows an
overlap between the two drives comes from a discussion in one of my classes. While
talking about horror movie monsters, I was asked to define what exactly the undead
are. I stated that among the criterion for being defined undead was that one could no
longer procreate. A student jokingly said that that meant that people who were infertile,
were then they would be considered undead. In response, another student explained
that in her evolutionary biology class they had defined the infertile as genetically dead
because they could no longer pass on their genes. We see that, though we are not
saying that those who are infertile are anything like our movie monsters, there are clear
overlaps in the portrayal of the “undead” in horror literature and the scientific
definitions. The person is considered genetically dead because there are no natural
means through which he or she can pass on his or her genes. Thus they may resort to
artificial means. Pushed to an extreme metaphorical level, the undead similarly resort to
“unnatural” means in passing on their traits or creating “offspring,” this means usually
some kind of “infection.”
Thus far we have seen how concepts in science can inspire artistic production
and vice versa. Here we begin thinking about how we can come to a clearer
understanding of the creation of art through scientific studies, particularly new studies
in brain science.
Near the start of my formal writing education, I was exposed to the idea that there
might be ways that we might channel the thought processes of great authors. I used to
type a page by Hemingway or Joyce in attempts to emulate the way that they put their
words together. A professor of mine, Dr. Aureus, said that we might try copying the
great writers’ handwriting as a way of channeling their minds. Handwriting has been
known to be indicative of thought process; you could tell certain things about a person
and how they think based on their handwriting supposedly. So perhaps if you could
emulate their handwriting, then you could emulate the way that they think.
The idea might sound unusual to those who don’t write, but the opportunity to
find some way to have a similar thought process as those grand masters of writing is
an immensely tantalizing proposition to the young writer. At the time though, there was
no real way to know whether you were indeed channeling those great minds with these
off-beat methods, or merely practicing some literary hokum.
New advances in brain science, however, may be able to offer some answers.
Thus far, the effect of music on the brain has been observed, and there are visual
representations of the brain activity showing that playing music activates both sides of
the brain, and specific, specialized areas. One can’t help but wonder, upon seeing
these pictures of the brain activity during playing music, what might our brain look like
if we could see it as we wrote a poem or the climax of a short story?
The ability to make a neural map of the mind while in the process of creation
would lead us to literally see what goes on, what happens in someone’s head when
they are writing. It might seem invasive or frightening, but at the same time, one cannot
help but be curious to see what kind of activity occurs in the brain. Here then is a
chance to see what this person was thinking, in terms of what parts of his brain were
functioning, and indeed perhaps to identify, physically, which parts of the brain are
active during the creation of literary texts. We could only imagine how Shakespeare’s
brain might have looked, the kind of activity that it displayed, when he wrote. Now we
have the technology that might allow us to literally peek into the author’s brain as he
writes.
This would lead to further questions, for example, what other activities is writing
like? How similar are the brain function readings between writing and music or other art
forms? Answers to these questions could lead to a refinement in our writing processes.
For sure they would offer writers a greater understanding of the creative process.
One should not think, however, that these inquiries would lead to a clamping
down of creativity, or a creation of certain imposed forms or rules for literature based
on the findings. Though it is tempting to think that we might be able to activate certain
switches in our heads to create superior literary works, I do not believe that is the
direction that this kind of study and knowledge will yield.
On the other side of the spectrum, there are certain new ideas which would
assign the creative process not to the singular author but rather to memes and our
social subconscious. Much like literary theories which claim that there is no such thing
as original work, but rather everything has been “pre-written” in the social
subconscious, certain new ideas make claims that there is no such thing as free will; all
our actions are the product of genetic processes and decisions based on the social
beliefs that have been instilled in us, that we make no real true original decisions. This
line of thinking might provide more basis for struturalist and post-structuralist theory,
as the attempts are made to map out the ideas of the social subconscious and the
patterns the recur within it.
It is often disheartening, though, as an artist and creator, to be faced with such
ideas. Though intellectually valid they may be, they tend to sap the power out of the
writer. Still, when the creative writer is told by the literary critic that his work was not
made of his own creativity but rather something merely snatched from the social
subconscious, a set of words pre-made that were there for the writer to grab from the
ether, he is faced with two choices. One is to accept that he was incapable of
invention, and that indeed everything came from there. Or he can strike out and try to
prove his individuality. We will see how this struggle plays out.
Thinking of these things, of how we are so close to explaining the processes of
creativity using the scientific tools at our hands, one might also be taken aback by the
idea that we might be reducing the emotions and thoughts of the writer to mere brain
patterns.
In spite of the technology available and the scientific approach that we might
observe the creative processes with, I believe that we cannot isolate in a scientific
manner what is creative, cannot develop an algorithm for the sublime.
Though we cannot formulate an equation that leads us on the path to sublime
literature, we can understand the processes that an individual undergoes in the
creation or the attempt towards creating a sublime text. This might lead us in directions
which would make the creation of sublime literature easier or more accessible. At the
very least, understanding the process of creating literature would provide us with
insights on how we could adjust our writing routines or create optimal creative
opportunities.
Not only does the information make us conscious of the play-drive and how it
could contribute to our creation of art, but attempts to consummate the play-drive lead
us to evolutions in our present art forms and, more excitingly, newer forms of art.
Though virtual reality has been a buzz word since the late 80s, until now there
doesn’t seem to be any clear manifestation of it in terms of its applications for art.
However, there are those that would point to it as the possible ground for newer art
forms which we have only yet to imagine. It is said that these art forms will incorporate
brain readings and lead to what is thus far being called postsymbolic communication.
Jaron Lanier, a computer scientist, composer, and visual artist who coined both the
terms virtual reality and postsymbolic communication describes postsymbolic
communication this way:
Each person would be changing the shared world at the speed of language all at once, an image that suggests chaos but often there would be a coherence that would indicate meaning…Postsymbolic communication will be like a shared, waking-state intentional dream. Instead uttering the word ‘house’, you will create a particular house and
be able to walk into it; and instead of comprehending the category ‘house’ you will peer into an apparently small bucket big enough to hold all the universe’s houses, so that you can assess directly what they have in common. It will be a fluid form of experiential concreteness, providing expressive power similar to but divergent from that of abstraction.
Given these possibilities one can only imagine what kind of art would be created
with such a system. If indeed, there were something that would emulate the idea of
play, where it is limiting yet encompassing at the same time, then the development of
technology that would lead to postsymbolic communication could very well lead us to
that level of play which Schiller pines for.
While we have not reached that point yet, it is clear that present mass media,
visual art, and hypertext are all benefiting from technological developments allowing for
an evolution in the way that we see and write the world. The ways that we see literary
texts transmitted have changed; no longer do we confine our literature to the published
page. Online publishing occurs at an astounding rate, with countless blogs or online
journals serving as sources of literary production. Even the discussions in the equally
uncountable message boards sometimes give way to intellectual inquiry and deep
thought. One need look no further than the UP ICW’s recent series of poetry writing
contests, the Dalitext, Textanaga, and Dionatext, which encouraged the writing and
submission of traditional poetic forms through the cellular phone medium.
In pop culture, we have seen television series utilizing math and science, offering
primetime entertainment but at the same time educating the populace, through
collateral learning, about these fields. The popularity of House M.D. with its
overwhelming medical jargon and quirky medical cases is only one example.
Combining the sciences with compelling drama, House has become a fan favorite and
award-winning show. CSI was the first show that sought to highlight the science
aspect though. It sought to take the police investigation series that we’ve seen since
the beginning of television with shows like Dragnet and put the focus on the process of
crime scene investigation. Again, through CSI, many people have come to know many
of the scientific aspects of police work, as well as expand their vocabularies and their
consciousnesses. Attempting to ride the same crest is the show Numbers which
attempts to integrate mathematics concepts as its protagonists solve cases. The art
form which was once seen as mindless and mind-numbing now has the ability to
deliver not only great dramatic material, as it has done previously, but just in the last
decade it has begun to provide viewers with an immense amount of scientific
knowledge, in small measured doses. There is definitely play at work here, but that play
is hardly visible, because of the medium, and of these shows’ adherence to established
forms (CSI follows the detective drama format and House M.D. follows the medical
drama).
Pushing even further are video games, which I believe are at the forefront in the
development of contemporary narratives. Though the video game as a form began with
games of great simplicity, such as Pong (you bounced a ball back and forth) or Gallaga
(a 2-D game where you were in a ship shooting aliens) or Pac-Man, all of which would
be put to shame by the graphics which we have access to now on our cellular phones,
the video game has evolved and at present has the capacity for telling large, sustained
narratives.
Even if we speak in terms of time, of telling a narrative over a period of time, we
can see that the volume of time that one would spend with a video game dwarfs most
of the other entertainment forms. Books will vary in terms of time, but five hours would
be well more than enough to finish a book. Films run at anywhere between an hour and
a half and three hours. Watching something like the Godfather trilogy would take up
about ten hours. A television series will perhaps comes closest in terms of time to
develop content. It will run anywhere between six hours to 18 hours per season.
The video game is considered short if it runs around seven to eight hours. The
normal gaming time would be between 12 and 20 hours. Role-playing games, the
games with the longest stories and usually most intricate narrative structure, will run
anywhere from 30 to 100 hours. These numbers are based on if that game were played
in a relatively linear fashion, from start to end without much meandering. However,
considering the non-linear narrative of games, the replayability, and the multiplayer
modes that games often have, the time one would spend with a game is usually much
more than the numbers given. This large canvas presents the creators with an immense
amount of space through which one could tell a story, but at the same time focus on
interactivity, the literal play that the gamer does.
I see the video game as a marriage of technology and narrative structure, making
it a possible venue for the consummation of the play-drive. We see that play can
function here on many levels, the gamer who literally plays the game, but also the play-
drive as the sciences and arts come together to create the video game. Indeed a
viewing of something like the behind the scenes or making of videos of Halo 2 or Halo
3 reveal that the creation of that text is driven by narrative, by creative storytelling, but
the actual output involves the work of computer science by which the game developers
design the game and finally the gamer interacts and “finishes” the game.
In video game language, the player/gamer, finishes a game when he or she
completes all the levels. However, on a more theoretical level, we may consider that
much in the same way that a book, although completed, is only truly complete when
there is interaction between the reader who gives meaning to the words being read, we
can say that a video game is truly finished once a person begins to play the game.
There is a level of interaction promised by this medium that no medium before it in
history has ever seen. The narrative possibilities are only now being explored. If on so
many levels, we can see the play available in video games, then it is very possible that
it may be one of the first forms that would transcend towards the play-drive, if it hasn’t
attained that already.
These evolved and new forms do not mean a turning away from the literary forms
that we have now, but rather an expansion of the kinds of creative outlets available to
both the artist and the appreciator of the art. We see that movement towards the play-
drive serves to broaden and expand these fields.
In our exploration of these contemporary ideas which might be used as
inspiration to create art, show possibilities for understanding the creative process, and
illustrate the kind of art that is being created and might be created soon, we see that
there is a clear trend. The divisions that Schiller saw, though still visible and ever-
present in our society, can be bridged, the lines once dividing the drives are blurring,
and in this blur we see the possibility of the emergence of the play-drive. This is an
exciting time for us. Schiller says, “…man only plays when he is in the fullest sense of
the word a human being, and he is only fully a human being when he plays.” As we
see the interaction of the liberal arts and the natural sciences, we see the
transcendence of the sensuous-drive and the formal-drive toward the play-drive. It is
time for us to get to work, so that we can get to play.
Works CitedAdams, Hazard. Critical Theory Since Plato Revised Edition. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich College Publishers.
Brockman, John, Ed. (2005). What We Believe But Cannot Prove: Today’s Leading Thinkers on Science in the Age of Certainty. UK: Pocket Books.
Johnson, Steven (2002). Emergence. London: Penguin Books.
Quartz, S. R., & Sejnowski, T. J., (2003). Liars, Lovers, and Heroes: What the New Brain Science Reveals About How We Are Who We Are. New York: Harper Collins Inc.
Dialect This, MoFo! : Oversharing Facebook Photos
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net).
I was asked by Adam David to write a critical discussion of a series of Facebook
photos that is being posted by someone who is in our common friends list. This
person, who for the purposes of this analysis shall remain unnamed, has been posting
photographs of himself in various stages of undress.
These photographs, regularly posted as profile pictures, have irked quite a
number of people due to their nature. They always show the person half-naked (or
more) and on a number of occasions have featured the person to a state of undress
that displays his pubic hair. Given that Facebook is such a public space, this has
inspired a number of vehement reactions, one of the most memorable I heard being,
“P*%#@$ina, hindi ako naglo-log in sa Facebook sa umaga para makita ang bulbol
ni_________.” Previous to witnessing this behavior, these people did not know how to
block updates from specific people on the home page, but this has led to their learning
how to do this.
One is left wondering, why would someone impose this behavior on other
people? Why would one subject others to such images? The “friendship” implicit in
being a Facebook friend is tenuous, with our making friends left and right with old
friends, former classmates, and friends of friends. But shouldn’t that mean that we are
more careful of the things we say and post, because we are subjecting people to
ourselves?
On the contrary, the internet has enabled all kinds of impositions. From SPAM
filling our inboxes (mine regularly selling me those little blue pills) links leading us to
porn sites, to pop-up boxes (which have thankfully been generally blocked by newer
browsers) directing us to porn sites, to all kinds of other racy NSFW content. Just as an
example, I was surfing the net in my teenage sister’s room and reading an article when
an ad popped up showing a busty woman removing her top. While I am no saint and
do rather enjoy watching busty women taking off their tops, this isn’t the content that I
would like to partake in when in front of my sister.
These kinds of impositions though, aren’t user-created content. The SPAM, the
pop-ups and misleading links, and the things we don’t want to click into but get
directed to when we click-through are created for a different reason though. Obviously
we draw a line between these things and the kinds of things that fellow users post
online.
When observing user-created content, what we see is the proliferation of
content that makes one question the dividing lines between what is personal and what
is public. One can recall a time when people would have second thoughts about taking
sexually explicit photos because one would have to get them developed. But in the
digital age this content goes well beyond, as we have witnessed the various “sex
scandals” caught on various kinds of recording media, from the Paris Hilton handycam
night-vid shots, to the grainy Katrina Halili/Hayden Kho, to the unknown call center
cellphone camera-captured sex scenes that are easily accessible online.
With the “democratization” of technology one witnesses a deluge of content. In
this deluge the Sturgeon rule holds true, 90% of everything is crap. At this point I
would like to make clear that “democratization,” as used here is in quotation marks to
acknowledge the limited nature of this democratization. Of course the majority of
people in this country have limited access to the internet, to digital media, to regular
updates or Facebook. But within these limited parameters, we see that technology has
enabled a more than exponential and phenomenal increase in the production of user-
created content. Of course people start out with sex, (and can’t you hear someone
singing, “The Internet is for Porn” right now?) but inevitably it would be used as a way
to connect with people and attempt to share one’s life and happenings with them, thus
the popularity of our social networking sites, Facebook being today’s dominant.
Well before Facebook and Friendster people were already sharing what was
happening in their lives. People were writing in blogs or live journals. Also, people
started posting their pictures online through various clients, prior to social networking.
We see the near simultaneous democratizations of writing, through the blog, and
photography, through digital photography. One sees here a crucial shift in photography
in terms of availability, as a roll of film which once cost between PhP 200-400 for a roll
of film and somewhere around PhP 250-300 to develop was prohibitive and would
cause one to take careful consideration of the pictures that one would take. With digital
cameras and the ever-expanding space available for pictures, one could literally take
hundreds of pictures at comparatively little cost and upload these directly to the
internet.
With such a movement, with the modes of production suddenly open to pretty
much anyone who could create an account in a blogging service or take a snapshot
with their camera-phones, we were suddenly overwhelmed with content. How many
people’s blogs did we follow at first? How many people could we link in our own
blogs? How much of all those pictures were really worth looking at? How much of what
people were writing was actually worth reading, if that person wasn’t your friend?
Further, what one could observe from the great amount of content, was, well,
the content of the content. What were these people really writing about? What were
they saying? How much of it meant anything beyond the inconsequential musing or the
angsty ranting?
The tendency then, was the movement of these things to be inward, for people
to talk about themselves, their issues, and their lives. People were, given the freedom
and space to write, chronicling their lives. Where previously we read memoirs and
biographies of heads of state, celebrities, accomplished people, we were now reading
what friends and friends of friends were thinking or doing. Indeed not only had the
mode of production been democratized, but the content had been so too, as we were
no longer reading about “big” people, but we were reading the memoirs of people just
like us.
This would have been well and good, if the people just like us were writing well,
writing intelligently about their lives and providing insight into our own lives through
their writing and ruminations. But one found that there was more often than not, again
in adherence to the Sturgeon rule, the writing on the internet was drivel.
What one witnesses in reading through a lot of blogs and journals is the collapse
of the sense of private and public. Whereas in older times we had journals and diaries
which we kept to ourselves, texts that were written only for us, on the internet anything
published was for everyone. And instead of people self-editing and selecting what they
would share and what they would keep to themselves, what happened was suddenly
there was no dividing line and all content was public content. People would post their
most intimate thoughts on the internet, because, hey, other people had the choice not
to read you. Suddenly the choice shifted from the writer, to select what aspects of his
or her life should be written about and shared, to the reader, and what the reader was
willing to read.
This kind of thinking would lead to a glorification of the Spectacle of Me. In a
self-centered bid for attention, users would create content that would rarely reach
beyond the writer’s own thinking and life. Similarly, we would see the development of
“vain pics” where people would turn the cameras on themselves and snap a series of
pictures of themselves and post these online. A funny thing to come out of this trend is
the once-common act of taking pictures of oneself in the mirror to achieve a pseudo-
artsy vain pic effect.
For as long as this behavior remained in the realms of personal blogs and
journals, then one could generally avoid these things. But with the coming of
Facebook, and with almost everyone who was online joining Facebook we would see
this transferred to the new medium.
Facebook utilized the Twitter-innovated microblogging by applying status
updates. And wouldn’t you know it, these status updates often blurred the lines of
private and public, with people describing what they were doing to such detail at times
that the term over-sharing has now become a regular word. Similarly, within the bounds
of user-content agreements banning pornography, people would post their photos
without regard to their quality, what was being shown in them, or any real aesthetic
considerations. In much the same way that because it happened, it would be written
about, because the shot was taken then it would be posted.
And, unless you’ve blocked the person from appearing on your homepage, you
will have to see these things.
Another irritating and rather obtrusive thing that people can do is tag you in a
photo which you are not in. And then when people start making comments on the
photo, if you haven’t configured your settings then email notifications will start going
into your inbox. While this can be easily remedied by adjusting settings, what I am
trying to point to here is that there are consistently a number of ways which the social
networking content can become intrusive and imposing.
In returning then to the original idea that launched these various observations,
what are we supposed to do about the person who poses distastefully revealing
pictures and uses them as profile photos, so that any interaction with him would mean
having to see those photos?
The quick and easy answer is just to erase the person, to block the person, to
get rid of the person. But one questions not only that person, but the kind of medium
that allows for such behavior. This is not a request for internet policing. Far from it, as I
believe that the internet is a wonderful medium and the freedom that it offers makes it
probably the freest space on Earth.
But rather, it asks us as users and creators of content to question the kinds of
content that we are posting. Are we enhancing discourse, are we really adding to
anything significant? One can always say that this is not their concern, that they want
to just have fun, or that’s just what they like. But in much the same way that the
internet is still a young medium, we as users are juvenile too, and it is reflected in the
user-created content. To see whether and when our maturity will come will be
something to watch out for in the coming years as we see people pushing the bounds
of the internet and what can be posted there.
Will it continue to be used for posting sex? Will it progress as a weapon as see
in the various cases of cyber-bullying? Will it continue its current pace as marketing
tool? Or will it enable a greater global consciousness, allowing a sharing of ideas as
many thinkers dream of it doing? At least at this point, for me and for my attempts here
to talk about it and to push discourse through Metakritiko, I hope that we progress
towards turning it into a medium where great ideas are shared and a more communal
sense of developing ideas and thinking can happen.
There have to be better things to see and talk about. I’m not saying that I’m not
guilty of posting similar status messages and photos, for I surely am (though I have
managed to keep my clothes on). What I’m saying is that as we learn this medium and
understand it and develop it then we can build it and make it better than it is at the
moment. Let’s prove the Sturgeon rule wrong and make a conscious effort to push
things online into more challenging and intelligent and meaningful territory.
The Digital Library Manifesto
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net)
A Manifesto calling for the establishment of Digital Libraries that would give
more people more access to more literature.
Laurel and Other Discoveries
I’ve been doing research for a project that I’m working on. I, as do most writers,
have various rackets that we work on that allow us to make the money we need, which
allows us the time to write the stuff we really want to write. And so I found myself in the
Ateneo Library and enthralled by a book written by Sotero Laurel, of the Laurel political
clan.
The book, Politics of Change and Reforms for Progress, was published in 1965.
In it I found the voice of the post-WWII pre-Martial Law Filipino intellectual. Laurel
argued for the kind of political reforms that we still argue for today. And his writing
about education remains markedly accurate and insightful and would be applicable to
today’s Philippine educational system.
The cynical among us would stumble upon this text and be depressed by the
fact that these issues were addressed five decades ago and have still gone
unaddressed. Indeed that is a valid and lamentable point. But I found myself excited to
find such a tradition of thought, and I could not help but think that if people saw that
kind of optimism, that kind of belief that we Filipinos could accomplish so much (it’s a
kind of optimism and confidence that we have sadly lost) then it would lead us to being
inspired and working towards such goals. I came to believe that Laurel is not the only
person who thought this way, and if more of this kind of thinking surfaced and became
accessible to the public, then this could lead to a changing of consciousness.
I’m sure that there are a lot of books written by Filipinos that could rouse us to
uplifting our people and our country. We’re all required to study Rizal, but often in high
school his witty, funny, suspenseful, and wonderfully written novels are drained of their
fun as students are told that they have to like them, instead of being allowed to
appreciate them, and required to memorize details for exams rather than read them as
literature. Along with improvements in teaching Rizal, I think we would benefit from
seeing the output of generations of Filipino thinkers. I want to discover all this writing,
as I discovered Laurel’s book.
Lack of Access
The problem is that we don’t have access to these books. Most books in the
Philippines get one publishing run (which amounts to somewhere between 500-1500
copies usually) and if it doesn’t hit best-seller and generate another print run, then it
will wither away in a bookstore before finding itself in the bargain bins at book fairs, or
on the shelves of the Filipiniana sections of school libraries where, at least in my
experience at the UP and Ateneo libraries, there is no opportunity to browse through
books freely. You have to fill out request forms, and this means you’d have to know
what you’re looking for.
And if I (or most likely we, as I tend to assume, dear reader, that you are also
educated, metropolitan, middle class or upwards) have trouble getting access to these
books, what more the multitude of students all over the country that have limited
access to these books and other resources.
It is my firm belief that if students are exposed to such literature, certain books
specifically that would inspire students (and I’m not talking here of inspirational books,
but of books that show great thought and accomplishment that would make students
want to do similar things), and also a body of knowledge that is proudly Filipino and
generally comprehensive, showing the intellectual accomplishments of Filipinos, would
all go a long way towards developing our social and cultural consciousness, shaping
the youth’s view of themselves, their nation, and the future of both.
The Pitch
So here’s the pitch: an online digital library made available to all users though a
public system, funded by the government and businesses that want to contribute to
the cause, run by academics, students, scholars, readers, and anyone else who wants
to help out.
Vibal Foundation is doing its own work with this, digitizing a lot of publications
and offering it in the already-expansive Filipiniana.net. The government funded project
Philippine e-Lib is also digitizing many libraries. And the EU has its own similar
project which seeks preserve its heritage through digitizing. But this would be an even
more massive undertaking, one that, if accomplished, could change education, access
to knowledge, and I like to believe, our country, all for the better.
I see two main issues here that have to be addressed: access and interest. Both
of these have to be running at the same time. Access will refer to reader/user access to
books and other educational media, while interest will refer to reader/user interest in
partaking of books and other educational media. If you provide access to everything,
but no one is interested, then you’ve just got a pile of books taking up space. And if
you generate interest but don’t provide access, then readers will get frustrated and lose
interest. So these have to work in concert, and I think that as these virtual libraries
grow, interest can grow with them.
So how will it work?
As previously mentioned a lot of literature is out of print and is lying around in
either school libraries or personal libraries. These works have no more commercial
value, and re-releases of these books probably wouldn’t generate enough to offset the
costs of printing. Thus on a commercial level, these books are dead.
But these books still have value as cultural objects, and like the Laurel book that
I found, all these books still have the potential to inspire, educate, and entertain. The
goal then, should be to digitize all of these books tucked away in libraries and make
these accessible to readers.
This would entail two processes: 1) Making them digital; and 2) making them
accessible.
Digitizing Dilemmas
The main problems in making them digital would be locating all of these books,
clearing their copyrights, and then the physical process of digitizing them.
In locating these books, I think that librarians in universities and colleges could
be tapped to do this, as well as personal collectors. What would be even more helpful
is if publishers, authors, or the families of authors (if the author has passed away)
offered their books for digitization. Publishers may think that this would translate to
less sales, but examples from the West show that offering free digital copies can
generate sales when used properly. If the author has passed away, then digital
reproduction of the book would lead to prestige for their family member, and authors
would benefit from the publicity and access
Clearing copyrights could be complicated, but if it were made apparent that this
whole project is being done for the public good, then I think it might convince copyright
holders to forego legal proceedings, if not directly allowing this digitizing for
educational purposes.
And third, the process of digitizing these books. There are a lot of scanners now
running for really cheap. And I was thinking that if this became a community effort
among writers and academics, then a simple initiative like, say, each person
committing himself or herself to digitizing a number of books and contributing them to
the effort would make considerable progress. I’ve written three books myself, and
turning them into PDFs would only take a few seconds. With the initiative being
developing culture and making literature accessible, most authors could be convinced
to do the same I think. If we establish reading centers, we could have the librarians
running them ready to digitize books that owners offer to the center.
Creating Access Points
Now let’s say we’ve got the ball rolling. Authors and book owners are sending in
digital copies. We have to offer access points. It’s no secret that our public libraries are
shabby, if they exist at all. But if we could find places that would serve as reading
centers, or even just reading rooms, then we could fill that physical space with media
that would allow readers/users access to the system. Computers are cheap now, and
it’s clear that digitized books and educational media won’t be needing crazy graphics
processing or anything like that. All you need are machines that can read PDFs and
video, and that can access the network.
So we’ve got physical spaces where people can go to read. Next is having a
network through which they could access all the digitized media available. I think that
the whole library of Philippine literature, in PDF format, could probably fit into a few
TBs worth of hard drives. And there is, for me, the exciting prospect that since all of
these libraries or reading rooms would be networked, that if someone brings a book to
share in one library, that book can get scanned, saved, and put on the network so that
anyone else in the country can have access to a copy of that book.
I believe that the digitizing of books would be an ongoing process. As people
rediscover old books, as authors come out with new books, and other content is
digitized and added to the network (libraries keep newspapers and magazines for a
certain amount of time, and then convert them into microfiche, it wouldn’t be too weird
to hope that they provide digital copies of their publications; journals, theses,
dissertations and other academic content which used to be restricted to specialists
could hopefully be made available to everyone), the network would grow progressively.
The compiling of books would never end, and it’s my hope that as more people gain
access, they will be inspired to contribute their own work to the network.
Generating Interest
As we establish access to the massive repository of Philippine thought, we must
also create interest in it. I see that this could be done with a two-pronged approach: 1)
the reading centers/rooms aren’t just places to read, but offer programs that would
encourage reading; and 2) the reading centers/rooms would work with schools and
other educational institutions to promote reading.
I take the idea of programs offered by the reading centers from my own personal
experience with libraries. As a kid, the public library near my house offered a reading
program. You could join the reading club, and you had to finish a certain number of
books per month. After reading those books you wrote short book reports about them.
If you hit the book requirement for the month, you got to join in on the book club party
where you’d have snacks and watch a movie that was an adaptation of one of the
books in the library (it’s how I first saw The Hobbit andThe Last Unicorn). There was a
sense of community and a sense of accomplishment gained from reading. Beyond
these rewards, my librarian would sit around with me and talk about the books that I
read, and there was a good deal of confidence and accomplishment gained from those
talks.
I’m not saying that this approach would translate perfectly to the Philippine
context, but I believe that similar programs can be crafted that would encourage kids
to read. I know that reading has to compete with TV, movies, and video games, but I do
believe that there is a way to generate interest. Each reading center would have to
figure out their own projects and approaches to drawing readers. But then once
effective practices are found, these can be shared and tweaked to fit in other
communities, much like what government agencies and NGOs do with their projects.
And we can’t stop with kids. Appealing to adults would also be important,
especially if we are to develop this culture of reading and a greater value of education.
Perhaps even more fulfilling than to inspire a child to have a healthy thirst for
knowledge would be to find people who dropped out of school and get them to
reconsider education and learning. It’s no secret that there are a lot of methods that are
still employed that are detrimental to learning and actually cause people to want to
stop going to school. But to offer them an experience where they could define what
they learn about and how they learn might entice a lot of people to start reading and
educating themselves.
We don’t have a culture of book clubs and I don’t suppose we will in the near
future (nor do I think we really need one). But we have to find a way for everyday
people to engage in discourse over literature, politics, society, culture, and pretty much
anything else. Encouraging a culture of thinking and discourse could be one of the
greatest things these digital libraries and reading rooms could accomplish.
Harnessing Cognitive Surplus
I think that the network through which readers/users access books can be
created with a social networking component, which would increase use and user
connection. Users reading the same text could exchange notes. Students writing
papers on the same topic could collaborate. The Filipino penchant for social
networking, if harnessed towards intellectual activity, would generate a massive
amount of discourse. Can you imagine thecognitive surplus that is devoted
to Farmville, Mafia Wars, Plants vs. Zombies, and other games, if it were redirected
towards intellectual/academic pursuits?
And beyond the initiatives of the reading centers and digital libraries themselves
would be projects undertaken with schools and other institutions that should have a
hand in education, such as local government units. The linkages that could be
developed would further the reach of this project.
At present, this is all just a thought experiment, some ideas that I’ve had that I
bounced off of friends. But if people start getting behind this and start making steps
towards digitizing a library then it might be a start. Convincing government agencies or
international organizations that want to help promote education and learning, as well as
local companies that would like to contribute to this cause, would be a big step
towards making this a reality.
We can’t establish traditional book-filled libraries in every barangay. It would just
be too expensive. But we can try to make literature more accessible to more people in
our country with initiatives like this. It takes people willing to share their books, people
willing to supply computers and the network infrastructure, and people willing to try
and make this project come alive. That’s the 20%. The 80% is getting the readers to
come in and read and make the whole project matter.
Consider this a manifesto that’s still in the works. Pass it around, share it, place
comments, augment my suggestions and show how this could be done better. If you
know institutions that would believe in and support such an initiative, then please get
them to read this. Help me turn this from a thought experiment to a real, working
system that could reach every Filipino.
Digital Media and a Changing Materialism
(This essay appeared in gmanews.tv. Special thanks to editor TJ Dimacali for his inputs, and to the site for its ongoing willingness to cover new stuff like this.)
A couple of years ago I was a collector. Or maybe a little more than that. I
collected a lot of things. A large part of my identity revolved around the acquisition and
accumulation of books. I also collected CDs, DVDs, comics and other cultural
ephemera. I kept movie tickets, clippings of articles, flyers, interesting things I picked
up. I couldn’t bear to throw these out because I thought that there might come a time
when I might need something, like say my readings in Sociology 101 from the year
2000. Who knew when I would have to define the sociological imagination? Or when I
would need to define the political dynamics and do a comparative analysis of the
authoritarian leadership styles of Lee Kuan Yew and Saddam Hussein based on my
studies of Politics and Change in the Third World in 2001? Oh and there were empty
liquor bottles signed by friends from the early Noughties wishing me a happy
nineteenth or twentieth birthday, and lord knows a situation might arise when I might
need those too.
My condo, small and exceedingly smaller as I surrounded myself with these
acquisitions, could not hold all my stuff. I had to throw my clothes out. I had to start
sleeping next to my books. I had to start storing my books in other people’s houses.
And that’s when it happened, the thing that would change my whole perspective on
collecting and accumulating things.
After I moved out of my faculty office, I left all of the books that I used for
teaching, as well as a lot of other books, DVDs, CDs, and other things with someone
who sadly fell victim to the Ondoy tragedy. I have to count myself lucky that nothing
happened to my family or me, and I was generally spared in an event that took so
much from so many people. Heck all it took from me was half my library. Still that loss
led to a renewed sense of the temporariness of things, of the transient nature of the
things that I was spending money on.
Having lost half my library, I started out devastated. I had spent so many years
and spent so much money collecting all of those books only to lose them. And yet I
found myself wondering, how many of those books did I still need? I had stopped
teaching (at the time anyway) so what did I need the manuals for English 1 for? And
with things being what they are, new knowledge arising every day, new content being
produced, those old materials would have been cycled out of my syllabus after a year
or two anyway. And so I started going through the rest of my books.
I got myself an e-book reader and I downloaded copies of my favorite books,
ready to be loaded up from a hard drive or a cloud drive whenever I want to read them
again (Full disclosure: I kept a lot of my old books and I have a lot of books loaded up
on my Kindle, but I rarely reread books because there are so many I haven’t read yet,
but I still keep those copies with the faint optimism of one who will one day have the
time to return to them) or just in case I would need to reference them or quote them.
And the rest of my books? I gave them away. Or most of them anyway. I’ve still got
some that are in a box, waiting for takers.
After getting rid of those books, I got to work on my CDs. It took time, but I
converted almost all of my music into digital formats. Sure there are people who will
argue for the importance of liner notes and album art. And for a long time those things
were a large part of the music buying and listening experience. But you can read those
liner notes only so many times. And it’s not like I would need all of the liner notes and
original packaging of all the CDs that I had bought. Sure I’ve still got some special box
sets hidden away at home, collectors’ items and favorite CDs. But on the whole, and
with the near 500 gigabytes worth of music that the collection turned to in digital
format, the physical manifestations of packaging were far from essential.
Then I moved on to my DVD collection, using Handbrake and other means to
acquire digital versions of the films that I loved. And so I pretty much threw out all of
the physical manifestations of the content that I consume, in favor of hard drives.
How does this change things? Now when I want to find something from a book,
I don’t go through the bookshelf or the closet, find the copy of the book, and then
thumb through it trying to find that specific passage. Now I flick my Kindle awake, input
the key phrase in the search bar, and find the thing I’m looking for, that whole process
quicker than the time it would take me to stand up and walk to the bookshelf. Movies?
Rather than going through the DVD collection, popping the disc into the player, and
other processes, I’ve got hard drives hooked up to my PS3, and all I do is turn on the
PS3 and flick through the menu to find what movie I want to watch. Ditto music. And
it’s even easier to listen to different albums on a whim just because of the easy access
that digital media affords.
Space, convenience, and accessibility. These are the advantages I see in digital,
in the favoring of bits over atoms. I know and I understand that there’s a lack of
sentimentality if not a kind of coldness when one eschews the physical trappings of
things. But this doesn’t mean that the meanings, emotions, and power of the text, nor
the feelings and memories that we associate to these things disappear or are
necessarily diminished. A lot of it remains, and some of it is displaced and put up
elsewhere in another format. Where you might have written a note on the margin of the
book you now highlight the text in your Kindle and post it to your twitter feed. Where
you might have taped a song and put it on a mixtape for someone, you now post a link
of it on their Facebook wall.
What does this mean for content? Hopefully a ubiquitousness of it. At present
there are still region restrictions on books, music and films. This measure is supposedly
to deter and control piracy. What escapes those implementing this region-blocking is
that rather than prevent piracy, it actually promotes it. If we want to read a book, listen
to an album, or watch a movie or TV show, make it easy for us to get it. We’ll pay. But
make it hard to get it through legal means, or make it easier (or only possible ) to
acquire it through extra-legal means and you drive people to piracy.
With the transitioning of entertainment media from atoms to bits, limitations of
stock disappear. We don’t have to go to another branch in another mall when one
place is sold out. At best we log onto our accounts and start watching things on our
preferred devices, be they tablets, phones, desktops, laptops, or home entertainment
systems. So too, without the need to go through manufacturing, packaging, delivery,
distribution, and retail, the costs to acquire our entertainment media should drop.
When all we’re essentially paying for is the server space, processing fees, and the
content itself, then hopefully subscription services similar to Hulu and Netflix will
become available to us, making our viewing selections that much greater. The same
goes for our books and music.
If the content comes in digital form, containers cease to matter so much (except
probably for books, as I do hope that authors will innovate and make texts that take
into account the properties of the page), and costs drop, then we will be consuming
most of our content digitally, through digital downloads and on complementary
devices.
Does this mean the death knell for analog? I don’t think so. I think that the
common user, and people who take their culture in a disposable manner, will prefer
digital. They will consume the media and then get rid of it. That’s how it is. If you make
content that isn’t meant to last (say a quickie romance novel, a Hollywood blockbuster,
or a catchy yet meaningless pop song) then expect it to be consumed and then erased
from someone’s ipad/kindle/music player/smartphone once they are done with it.
There’s only so much digital space one can allot for that kind of disposable content.
However, collectors and content that is rewarding through multiple sittings will find a
way to be relevant in analog.
Notice the resurgence of vinyl as a format. After having been “killed” by newer,
more compact formats, vinyl’s superior sound and its collector-factor are making a
resurgence. If you’re a serious music collector, these days you are collecting vinyl. It’s
part technological acknowledgement of benefits of the analog product, and part cool
factor or credibility; as if to say to be a real music lover or music collector, you should
have that phonograph and vinyl collection.
This appreciation of the analog and the acknowledgment of analog formats as
markers of commitment, sophistication, and cool will surface soon enough, depending
on which form we are dealing with. We’re seeing it now with music (box sets,
collector’s editions, physical manifestations of the music and support for the artists like
tour merchandise) and soon enough I think with books. We will see that carrying a
book around will be like a kind of badge or symbol to your commitment to books.
Beyond mere badges of cool though, analog will still have clear advantages
beyond the loss that occurs when transferring to digital. As tech editor TJ Dimacali
explains no matter how cumbersome it is to deal with analog, it’s still easier to
“decode” those than digital formats. To illustrate, we can play a vinyl record by using a
hairpin and a paper cup, while in digital formats we will always need electronic
equipment.
This isn’t a major concern for us at the moment because of the ubiquitousness
of techonology and the availability of power. But this is a serious concern for scientists.
What will happen to all that digital information in the event of a nuclear holocaust? Or
what if a solar flare breaks through the atmosphere and fries all digital equipment?
Contrary to popular belief, the Internet —and most digital tech— won't likely survive
WW3.
That's why all the information that we've sent into outerspace —the plaque that
we left on the Moon and the plaque on Voyager (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
Voyager_Golden_Record) — use analog technology, because it would be easier for
possible aliens to decode.
Historians are also concerned about our over-use of digital technology, because
recording standards are always changing and digital storage isn't as permanent as
analog tech. CDs, for example, have a maximum life of about 10 years. And even if the
digital media did survive, we'd still need to be concerned about making sure that future
generations have the means to decode them. Think of the problems we have now with
the kinds of file formats we use, the pickiness of certain formats, DRM constraints, and
other issues that attempt to hinder our ability to access files. Which is really to say that
despit all of the glorious things that digital allow us, we still cannot escape the need for
analog.
This also means that in the future, as digital takes care of our entertainment
needs, other things, the non-digital aspects of our lives, will be given more attention
and thus value. For example, I believe clothing will become more relevant to those who
did not practice fashion much before. With the proliferation of media allowing costs of
content to go down, and the cultural exposure afforded to the viewers/readers/
listeners, a higher standard of dressing will emerge, and the analog thing, the clothing,
will find much more value than it did for most people in the last few decades.
All of this is to say, really, that what we can hold physically, in the real world,
will have more and more relevance and value as we take the majority of the aspects of
our life and world into the digital realm. I dream of having a paperless office, and yet I
find that there are times when nothing will do but a notebook and some rough
sketches. I wholeheartedly embrace the march of new technology, but I am left
wondering how we will value the things we can buy and the things that we can hold.
Will possessions in the real world lose value as people shift to digital media and the
benefits of it? I don’t know, but I don’t think so. I believe that the value of commodities
is based on scarcity. And so even if all of those movies/songs/books/TV shows are so
cheap and accessible, we will still wind up looking for real world equivalents through
which we can express our love and support of these various media. And it’s there that
analog will have its resurgence and flourish.
MUSIC
Is music disposable?
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net)
What’s your format?
We can usually divide people among the formats that they first listened to music
on. I still remember the old record player on which I first heard The Beatles, Led
Zeppelin, and Deep Purple. Okay, I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not that old. I
listened to that stuff from my father’s old record collection, some of which I ruined
when I tried to copy the DJs I saw on TV scratching records. I came of age in the time
of tape, and even when CDs were popular I still carried around a ratty old Walkman.
But do you remember which p2p service you first used to download music?
There’s a definitive thing. Though the dividing lines between formats signals
great technological differences (records to 8-tracks, to cassette, to CD, a sidetrack
through MD, and now digital mp3, FLAC, and other lossless formats), once we hit
mp3s and digital file sharing there were no more physical limitations but rather we were
limited by bandwidth only. Our access and ability to consume music changed
drastically.
Whereas in physical forms we had to consider money spent, whether it was
P100 or P150 for a tape or upwards of P450 on CDs, with the entry of digital we only
had to consider how long it would take to download songs, and them albums.
Recall your first music downloading experience. How long did it take? I
remember having a newly acquired 56kb modem, to which my friends and I were
thinking, that’s an awesome speed. I was running my internet through my phone line,
paying P100 for a card that ran for six hours. It would take twenty minutes to download
one song. And if someone called you on your phone, the net connection would
disconnect and you’d lose the data transfer, so you’d have to start downloading the
song all over again.
From money to minutes
But how I loved it. With that you could get access to music you couldn’t find in
stores. Previously if you wanted something like that, it would cost you a lot of money
ordering from specialty CD stores, or you’d go to Quiapo and get those underground
metal and punk albums on tape. Now, if you could wait twenty minutes, you could get
that song you wanted. It wasn’t free of charge, it only cost you internet time and your
own time in front of the computer.
As internet speed grew, so too did transfers and the ease with which we could
access music. From having to go out to your store to buy a CD or tape (or even waiting
for the song to play on the radio and then catching it on tape) you could wait for twenty
minutes for that song, and with internet speed at it is now, a whole album in a matter of
minutes.
This leads to a lot of trouble for record companies, who make most of their
money from selling the physical objects. But what it does lead to is more access to
music for listeners. Granted, most local listeners are still happy with their Love Radio
and Energy (did I get those right?) but more discerning listeners were no longer limited
to what was available on the radio or record store racks.
Who chooses the music?
When still working the music beat way back in the early noughties I remember a
number of acts that I had heard of, read about in magazines but whose albums weren’t
being released locally. I asked the record company PR why. She said that these artists
were in their catalogs but they didn’t think that the Filipino audience would buy their
albums.
At the time then, it was clear that it was up to record companies to decide the
kind of music that would be available for consumption. Indie recording wasn’t as
prevalent because equipment was still very expensive. And local releases of foreign
acts were decided based on possible record sales (as perceived by record company
execs), appealing to the largest possible group of people and excluding niche markets.
If you wanted something that wasn’t mainstream, you had to order it or get it from
abroad. Anyone whose tastes fell out of the mainstream would be ignored. Also, music
that was in the back catalog (say old Rolling Stones albums) was similarly out of reach
because these could not be found in the music stores.
But with digital downloads we were free to get all the music that we wanted.
Want to try out this band you read about? Sure just download their track or check out
their myspace page. Remember a song that you really loved but never had a copy of?
Take it from the p2p network and enjoy.
Record Store Decline
Is it any surprise that music stores have shrunk, if not disappeared? The once-
glorious three-floor Tower Records of Glorietta has now shrunk to a floor, and its
collection has dwindled to mostly generic pop fair. It’s no longer a place for
aficionados. The same is true for Greenbelt 3’s Music One, which was once
voluminous, but now its store space has halved, its other half being replaced by an
office supplies store. And when we talk of the best new albums we aren’t referring to
the record stores but to the torrent download sites.
Even when niche albums do get released locally, there is often a considerable
lag. For example, I waited two weeks for stores to come out with The Decemeberists’
The Hazards of Love before resorting to finding a digital copy. They would come out
with the album more than a month after its international release. A more recent
example is David Byrne and Fatboy Slim’s Here Lies Love which, with its Pinoy subject
matter, you might think would prompt a local release. As of this writing I haven’t seen
copies in record stores.
And again, the prohibitive costs are ever present. Granted that our CDs cost less
than if you bought them in America (our P450 price tag vs the usual $12-$15) but this
still isn’t competitive, I think, in the face of piracy and digital sharing, and, well, bands
giving their stuff away online.
I think that DVD pricing has it right, offering these things as cheap as say P100
each or even two for P150, which comes effectively close enough to pirated prices to
make the original more appealing because of the advantages (and prestige) of buying
original. CDs prices have dropped to the P200 range for local CDs and sometimes
foreign CDs cost cheaper, but these come at the cost of packaging. So really, there’s
an observable problem with making the physical objects more appealing in the face of
digital music which is, essentially, free.
Consumption and Attention
We have then effectively eliminated both financial costs and digital download
times as constraints to music listening/music consumption. The only real limitation to
music listening, with those constraints gone and the ability to fit your whole library in
your pocket (as a comparison, I used to lug around my Walkman and anywhere
between five to ten tapes in a duffel bag, those ten albums are worth maybe a gig, GB
and a half?) is the limitation of attention.
As Chris Anderson explains in his book Free, the abundance of one thing gives
rise to the scarcity of another thing. So if there is an abundance of music, then the
scarcity is the listening time that we have to devote to music. Previously, music cost so
much, so when you bought a tape or CD you would listen to it until you were pretty
much sick of it. It would take time before you had the cash to buy a new thing,
especially if it was going at P450 a pop. My own tapes, which at the time cost P100
when my baon was only P150, were played out to the point that they warped.
Spending so much time with those albums, actually memorizing them because
of playing them so much, meant that these songs did wind up burned into your
memory, and that albums were whole things that we devoured, flipping sides back and
forth. There was a physical barrier to listening to something new, popping it out of the
tape deck and putting in a new thing, as opposed to the easy of which we now jump
from album to album or song to song, at the pretty rotary motion of the clickwheel or
the snappy finger movements on our touchscreens.
This then brings up the question, does music mean less? In its becoming free, in
its sudden abundance, is music less meaningful? A quick listen to the radio and the
largely disposable nature of pop music lyricism would probably make a strong
argument for the cynical music listener. But I’d argue that the pop music on the radio
isn’t where we should look.
Notes on disposable radio
Why should we ignore radio-friendly pop? Is it an elitist decision? It definitely
could be viewed as such. But then music that was prized for its artistic qualities was
never prioritized for airplay on the radio (or at least not since I’ve had consciousness
enough to listen to radio).
Sure you’d have some great songs that would break into mainstream
consciousness, and you would also have the occasional brilliant pop song that would
be transcendent, but in its general structuring, pop radio programming has never been
on the lookout for great artistic quality but rather obviously the consideration was
radio-friendliness. The slew of hits like “Laban o Bawi,” “Otso-Otso.” “Macarena,” “The
Papaya Song,” and all of that other Euro-pop influenced pap that gets played
incessantly should serve as ample proof. If it’s not that then it’s the hip-hop-influenced-
pop that’s got the sound but not the substance of real hip-hop. Or the punk and rock
influenced pop that doesn’t have the substance of real punk or rock. Radio-friendly
replaces the substance with broad-spectrum catchiness, removing those genres of
their venom but maintaining the marketable aspects of them.
In my life pop radio has been something like the specter of death, you’re always
avoiding it but no matter where you go, it’s waiting for you, ready to blare from the
nearest radio in a store or taxi when you thought you had finally broken free, reminding
you that it wants, “Nobody, nobody but you.” Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of pop
music that I find infectious, catchy, and fun to listen to. It’s just that the general
structure of pop radio skews towards repetition and a subservience to the dictates of
what people think will sell. It furthers this vicious cycle of music that appeals to the
LCD, justified by what people want, and then people just wanting the music that
appeal to the LCD because they aren’t ever given anything else to listen to.
Let’s face it, pop radio is fad driven. And that’s why that music hasn’t ever really
mattered. Previously radio might have mattered (I’m imagining a time before MTV,
perhaps the days when Lester Bangs still walked the Earth, but to be honest, my
experience with pop radio stations has never been musically illuminating, though I do
remember when i was in high school stations like RX did mix things up and play
relatively good music), but as discerning listeners have been driven to the fringes and
the mainstream has become more and more LCD-oriented, radio’s relevance in
defining artistic direction and true appreciation has been diminished.
In relying on fads it has promoted artists-of-the-moment without lasting value or
artistic depth. What really can we come away with after non-stop radio airplay of Akon
or Justin Bieber or Soulja Boy. Sure sure, people like listening to their beats, but their
music is disposable, ready to be replaced by the next catchy fad.
If it isn’t that, then we could probably look at Lady Gaga and how she is not
mere music, but offers up an entire experience and subculture. Her music itself isn’t the
most groundbreaking thing, her themes are often repetitive, and though admittedly
catchy I’m willing to posit that without the “complete package” approach that she
employs she would not have become as popular as she is. Granted that most artists in
pop go through similar identity packaging, but we see a brilliance to Gaga’s method
that is undeniable. And yet, one still has to consider that as music alone, it may not
have the lasting nature of music that does not come within such a package.
And we know our local trends for music, which are largely these covers of
things, whether they be divas or divos, acoustic renditions, or bossa, it’s taking already
existent material and generally regurgitating it to fit into a packaged artista that will sell
CDs and unironically-titled concerts. How much more disposable can you get than
unoriginal, uninspired covers?
All of this, of course, is to say that pop music is inherently disposable. The
concept of the now-laos Top 40 only reveals that, popularity dictating airplay, and vice
versa, getting a hit and just the endless process of watching that hit rise the charts and
get replaced by another, equally catchy, probably as forgettable pop hit.
Zombie Music
Despite my assertions at the disposable nature of pop, it’s interesting to note
that old pop hits do get second lives thanks to digital media. If they were really terrible
they do often stay dead. But some of these songs, even though they aren’t available in
record stores anymore, spark strong nostalgic feelings in people land they wind up
looking for the cheesy songs of their youth. I have to admit to a newfound affinity to
Chumbawumba’s “Tubthumping” as it may not land on my list of great songs, but it
serves as a placeholder to my youth and a memorable time in my life.
Though kids no longer know Britney Spears for dressing up in sexy school girl
clothes but rather for her crazy head-shaving, it’s her music, and the Spice Girls, and
the Backstreet Boys, and other music from the 90s that has gone zombie, showing up
in people’s iPods. Digital access to these songs has enabled a newfound appreciation
for them. I have my doubts about whether in the intervening decade “Quit Playing
Games with My Heart” can be read with a new kind of appreciation, but imbued with
the power of nostalgia these songs have a new shine.
Returning to my point though, pop radio has been jumping from trend to trend,
and despite people returning to old songs, the majority of it all has still been pretty
disposable. How many of those CDs do we still have lying around? And beyond the
nostalgia, what else do we listen to these songs for?
Radio is still addressing a larger base of listeners, but it rarely pushes music
appreciation beyond its limited songs lists and the drivel that passes for talking
between those songs.
File Sharing, Genius, and more music options
With digital music and the abundance of music through p2p, digital downloads,
free downloads from artists both famous and unknown, internet radio services that
skew towards music you like and are actually intelligent enough to guess at what other
music you would like and cue it up for you, things are changing, things are going
beyond what mere radio has to offer.
While imperfect, services like Apple’s Genius and other online services try and
recommend new music to you, based on music you already like. Once again we see
here a movement towards accumulation of music.
Music lovers have always been music collectors. I remember one person telling
me, in the time when I could barely afford tapes, that you weren’t a self-respecting
music fan if you didn’t own more than 300 CDs. That seemed to me a whopping
amount of music. But let’s break that down into digital terms.
If we average the file size of each album to about 100MB per album, times 300
albums, then that’s that’s 30,000 MB. That’s a shade under 30GB, or the size of my old
iPod. I’ve got way more than that saved up in my external hard drives.
So the concept of accumulation actually moves away from digital. if you’re a
true collector now, it’s not enough to have these in digital, but to show cred you wind
up looking for the music in its physical forms. This means purchases of box set and
special releases (which people will still rip into digital and put into their iPods anyway)
and hardcore collectors going for vinyl.
We return though, to the question, that with such a quick and easy way to
accumulate music, does music through its being quick and easy, lose its value?
When you have everything, what is there to want?
We now have at our disposal, through all these different digital media channels,
near unlimited access to the majority of music that has ever been recorded from all
over the world. If you want something it’s a few keystrokes away.
The giving of, and even the concept of the mix-tape is an archaic thing, giving
way now to the playlist, fashioned on the go, with a few taps. I felt that people who
prepared mix tapes developed a keener sense of music, and I still maintain that the
time and care given to making them is a craft and art in itself, an act of music curation
that defines the tape the giver, and the receiver.
When I received mix tapes I would sit and listen to each track, listen to every
song and try and appreciate the song as a song in itself, and then the song in the
sequence that the person giving it had made, trying to understand why there, at that
point in the tape, and how it led into the next song. You could tell a lot about a person
when they made you a tape, if they were sloppy, meticulous, careful, what mattered to
them, how they chose their song.
But now, I receive DVDs-worth of music. That’s 8GB of albums sometimes. And
more often I just lug around an HDD and pass music to friends. And this is where we
return to the idea of scarcity of time and attention.
If a friend gives you a whole bunch of music how do you know which songs to
listen to? He or she says they are all great and dumps 8 gigs worth on you. That’s 80
albums, and if you figure each album at an hour long each, it would take you more than
three days of nonstop listening to go through every album just once.
In this sense then, music does seem disposable. When there’s just so much of
it, well, you can’t listen to it all. And even when you listen to a new album, how long
does it take you to start listening to something else? At what point do you feel that
you’ve maximized your appreciation of an album and are ready to move on to the next
thing.
Here’s where things get even more interesting. If it’s good music, then each
listening should reveal something new to appreciate. So we don’t necessarily ever
“maximize” or “max-out” our liking of an album. We just start feeling the need to listen
to something else. So then, at which point does other music start playing? Without the
need to ever really erase music, due to the abundance of hard drive space, we don’t
even get rid of these songs, they just stay in our players, unplayed.
How to Measure Value Now
Take a look at your iTunes, media player, or other digital media playing device
and check the play count for songs. You’ll probably notice that a lot of songs got a few
plays, and a few songs got a lot of plays.
This means that those songs that got a lot of plays were the songs that
deserved listening attention (whatever parameters each listener uses to define what
deserves listening attention would be a different discussion). It’s here that the value
comes. If a friend gave you a few albums, you listened to a few of them once or twice,
then left them to be part of the unlistened to accumulated music, then that shows their
disposability, if not their being unnecessary to your listening tastes.
This would similarly conform with how we treated a lot of albums pre-digital.
Remember when people used to listen to CDs at the record store before buying? Now
instead of doing that, we get the whole albums for our listening convenience. And if we
don’t like it, we just don’t listen to it, kind of like if we didn’t like the CD, we just didn’t
buy it.
The key difference here is that it’s no longer the purchase that matters but the
listening time given to the album that makes the album matter. This too means that in
the future it won’t be mere record sales that will matter (will record sales still matter in
the future?) but rather how the attention given to specific albums can be translated into
financial gains for the band, producers, etc.
For us listeners this kind of future is promising and bright. We will have access
to all the music we want, and if Steve Jobs is listened to, this music will be DRM free.
All the music in all the world on our hard drives, in our pockets.
The abundance will be overwhelming, but we will be the ones to assign value to
music from now on. It won’t be record store prices and limitations of budget or access
that will create a premium on music, but how we decide to value it. We could pay how
much we think it’s worth, like the Radiohead model, or we could buy merchandise and
watch gigs to support artists, or subscribe to any of the other new models that are
created for monetizing on our music appreciation. But the bottom line is through
digital, we as consumers now have more power to ascribe value through merely giving
music our attention and appreciation.
Songs as Poetry: Mos Def’s “Mathematics”
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net)
In the span of two decades rap/hip-hop music has gone from a seeming fad
spear-headed by the safe and commercially consumable pop rap of the late 80s and
early 90s of the likes of Young MC, MC Hammer, Vanilla Ice, DJ Jazzy Jeff and the
Fresh Prince, and Tone Loc, to become the dominant commercial musical form. Even if
it isn’t straight rap, a lot of today’s pop music takes its influences from hip-hop,
whether it be Jay-Z, Gorillaz, or Justin Bieber,
This music takes off from gansta rap (both East and West Coast) with strong
doses of G-Funk, developed by Dr. Dre and a pretty clear influence in the work of the
likes of Timbaland, Pharrell, and Kanye West. One of the things that has made hip-hop/
rap so successful has been its ability to appropriate various musical styles, allowing for
a kind of pastiche art that mixes and takes what it wants not only from other styles but
specific bits from other songs.
We’ve heard what happens when rap and rock mix, with The Beastie Boys, Run
DMC, the soundtrack of Judgment Day, and probably its best form Rage Against the
Machine. We’ve also heard rap take specific parts from songs to create something new
and fresh and amazing, whether it was Dr. Dre’s great samples from The Chronic,
Kanye West’s use of songs from Daft Punk and Steely Dan, or Danger Mouse’s mix of
The Beatle’s self-titled album (better known as the White album) and Jay-Z’s Black
Album to make The Gray Album.
What I’m pointing at here is the potency of the sound of rap/hip-hop, how the
beats, rooted in African rhythms, seem to appeal to all kinds of listeners and help to
shape culture and music in general today. But one of the things that is being forgotten
is that hip-hop didn’t start out, and should not just be about the sound, the attitude,
the culture, and the posturing. It should say something.
The word rap may have a number of possible etymologies, but I like the idea
that it operates as an acronym for Rhythmically Accented Poetry. One may argue that
poetry must have a sound element, hence that acronym being redundant. But when we
think of rap we cannot help but think of how the words are delivered with such a
rhythmic accent and how this kind of delivery matters so much to a song’s success.
One need look no further than Soulja Boy to hear how catchy words that are
rhythmically accented can be; the content and the very clear fact that those songs are
very far from and never aspire to poetry are another matter though.
But the success of Soulja Boy, among many other rappers whose main
concerns when rapping are only about talking about bitches and hos, cars, money, and
gold, is indicative of how little lyricism matters in today’s rap landscape. To be fair,
rap’s progenitors did a good amount of posturing too, but they were doing this as part
of an attempt at subverting the dominant social systems. Today’s rappers posture for
the sake of it.
This shows how rap has been co-opted by the music mass media marketing
machine and defanged. In its earlier incarnations, in the hands of the likes of Public
Enemy and NWA rap was a potent form of social commentary. Whether it was Chuck D
and Flava Flav stomping down New York’s streets enjoining its listener to “Fight the
Power” or Ice Cube and Eazy E depicting gangland violence and police brutality in
South Central LA, rap was not only a means of self-expression but a means of
spreading awareness of these social conditions and giving voice to a marginalized
segment of American society.
It is here then that we enter our analysis of Mos Def’s “Mathematics.” While
most people know Mos Def these days for his work as an actor in movies like
Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and Be Kind Rewind, he is also an accomplished
rapper, having made solo albums as well as collaborating on a number of projects like
Blackstar, as well as appearing on others’ albums, most notably with The Roots.
“”Mathematics” comes from his first, and at least as far as I’m concerned, still his best
album Black on Both Sides.
In “Mathematics” Mos Def runs us through a series of numbers and figures,
connecting all these together to deliver a powerful piece of music that operates just as
much as social commentary and protest poetry as it does ill hip-hop track.
The track begins as many rap songs do, with shout outs, but through these
shout outs Mos Def establishes a framing device that he will utilize at the start of each
verse:
One for Charlie Hustle two for steady rock three for the fourth comin’ live, future shock it’s five dimensions six senses seven firmaments of heaven and hell 8 million stories to tell
nine planets faithfully keep in orbit with the probable tenth the universe expands length
He starts the second verse thus:
It’s one universal lawBut two sides to every storyThree strikes and you be in for life mandatoryFour MCs murdered in the last four yearsI ain’t tryin’ to be the fifth one the millennium is hereIt’s 6 million ways to dieFrom the seven deadly thrillsEight-year-olds being found with 9millsIt’s 10PM where your kids at?
Rather than a central metaphor to drive it as a poem, “Mathematics” implements
a centripetal system. When using a poem with a central metaphor, one allows the
central metaphor to dictate the kinds of images that will be used in the poem. But here
we have disparate images and ideas all being brought together for their value as
“mathematics” or really statistics or just anything to do with numbers.
It seems to play with this underlying idea that we insist on logic in the
contemporary world, so instead of relating a story or a narrative, as most poems,
stories, and songs do, Mos Def piles on all these various instances of numbers and
their various meanings to get us to think about the things that he is referring to and
trying to make a commentary about.
When Mos Def proceeds with the first verse, he again begins with a rap
convention. He refers to the rap that he is about to give (it’s common for rappers to
announce the year, as well as maybe throw in a dis against others i.e. My raps are so
2008, your raps are so 2000-late) and then he talks about how great a rapper he is.
But beyond those conventions given, he also adds a great sense of awareness,
as well as a decidedly poetic execution to his lines, “The body of my text possess extra
strength/Power-lift the powerless up, out of this towering inferno/My ink so hot it burn
through the journal.”
We see here Mos Def seeing text as an elevation, he’s not merely rapping or
spitting beats, but he is making a text that will lift up the powerless, but we see there a
play of words, power-lift the powerless. Also there’s a novel image there, ink so hot it
burns through the journal. He’s not merely talking about how great his rhymes are, not
content to just say he’s better than other MCs, but he provides us with that distinct
image of journal burning up with his words, which works both as a great image and as
a statement on the power of ideas.
After this he promises to “Hip-hop past all your tall social hurdles.” We see this
working on the literal and figurative levels, hip-hop as an image that works with the
idea of hurdles, but also hip-hop as a form of music that allows the speaker to
overcome social hurdles. It’s another smart play of words, compact and delivered in
the mere space of a line. And this is just the first verse! So many of these lines appear
in the song; it packs in more ideas than entire rap albums, or possibly entire oeuvres of
other rappers.
Poetry is a violence to language, according to some poets, because it defies the
norms and conventions of normal everyday language. This is of course true as we
don’t speak in iambs, though contemporary poetry has moved toward both an
enhancement of the language and a more conversational tone. Observing rap we see,
like poetry, the imposition of and the importance of sound. Rappers refer to it as flow,
or flowing, interesting that flow is also the term used by Mihaly Czysenstmihalyi to refer
to the process through which we tap our subconscious and become creative without
really thinking about it.
The rapper’s flow owes just as much to vocabulary as it does to sound, as it’s
not only about rhyming but stringing ideas together, and the free-flow/free association
way in which rappers combine metaphor, simile, imagery, allusion, and utterance,
weaving these seamlessly into rhymes is often a mesmerizing act of poetry.
Mos Def not only imposes his will on the language, doing a violence to it so that
it serves his purposes, but he uses violent imagery to surprise, provoke, and evoke
feeling from the listener, This isn’t the gangster posturing of pulling out gats and
popping caps in people’s asses, but rather a violent visual imagery not in the service of
the rapper’s ego but in service of the larger message that the rapper attempts to
channel, a violence in service of social justice. It’s a call to revolution, set against phat
beats.
Notice how Mos Def discusses the social conditions that lead to crime and the
ineffective way that government responds to it. When I just summed it up in that last
sentence it sounded like a droll paper or newspaper article, but here’s Mos Def’s flow:
Bubblin’ crack, jewel theft and robbery to combat povertyAnd end up in the global jail economyStiffer stipulations added to each sentence
Budget cutbacks but increased police presenceAnd even if you get out of prison still livinJoin the other five million under state supervision…The system break man, women and child into figures
We have there a compelling portrayal of the social conditions, to do with race
and class, brilliantly conveyed there, and throughout the song, in packed lines that
combine image and idea to convey message.
He maintains all this rapping about numbers and figures and discussing social
conditions, showing how people are reduced to figures and statistics. Through his flow
he paints an image of great social injustice and the way that we are able to overlook
this because we dehumanize all of the victims of such a global world order by turning
them into numbers. But then by the end he empowers these “numbers” again and
provides a call to revolution:
You push too hard even numbers got limits
Why did one straw break the camel’s back? Here’s the secret:
The million straws underneath it- it’s all mathematics
Again we see there Mos Def operating on the level of the literal, with the idea
that numbers have limits, but also referring to these numbers as people, who will one
day revolt once things have gone too far. He makes use of the familiar saying, but
works it into his framework of numbers and mathematics.
“Mathematics” sounds cool, has a great beat and a groovy bassline with some
LSS inducing-scratching, but at its heart it is a song of social commentary, an attempt
to show us the world, or at least how Mos Def sees the world, by appealing to these
statistics, framing these statistics in an aesthetically beautiful package, like a Trojan
Horse filled with worldview-shattering ideas. It seems a subversion as we don’t think of
numbers when we think of art, and we don’t think of statistics when we think of rap.
But Mos Def surprises and enlightens by his fusion of these different elements here,
imbuing his social commentary with aesthetic power.
Songs as Poetry: Ash’s “Shining Light”
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net)
I’m a fan of the three-to-five-minute pop ditty, and it’s a real joy when these
kinds of songs have aspirations to poetry. Definitions of poetry are always changing but
at least for our purposes here we see songs as poetry when they apply certain poetic
devices to convey meaning and enhance our appreciation of the song. I think, further,
that pop music operates and is effective when it combines the familiar and the new,
giving us something that we know, feel like we’ve heard, but at the same time giving us
something fresh and surprising. And I think that I appreciate poetry in the same way,
with those same two expectations.
Ash’s “Shining Light” is a song that is bursting with images both familiar and
surprising, and it’s all framed and expressed in a tight verse-chorus-verse-chorus-
coda-bridge-chorus that, in its simplicity of form, allows for further appreciation of the
melodies and images at work.
I’ve mentioned simplicity, and I think that this is where the song operates and
becomes powerful. It works with a simple melody repeated over and over, employing a
familiar image (light), to convey a simple familiar theme (expressing one’s love for
another). And yet that’s where it’s deceptive, because embedded in this simplicity is a
good amount of crafting. One of the great measures of artistry is not only in the
execution, but in the ability of the artist to make things seem simple and easy, when in
fact he put a lot of work into it.
The song opens up simply, its first stanza:
Roman candles that burn in the nightYeah, you are a shining lightYou lit a torch in the infiniteYeah, you are a shining lightYeah, you light up my life
There’s nothing too striking in the images in the first stanza. Pretty run of the mill
actually. It establishes the central metaphor that the song/poem will be employing, the
connecting of light and the “you” that is referred to. But what one can read from this
first stanza is that in establishing the repetition here, the song/poem employs a classic
poetic form, the litany.
Mass and other similar religious rituals employ the litany, this process of
repetition, to instill a sense of belief, and as can be stated philosophically, if we repeat
something enough times then it becomes true. Thus, we see then that this isn’t simply
the expression of love, the mere act of saying, “I love you,” but rather this involves a
repetition, a litany, a kind of courtship, in the hopes of convincing the “you” of the love.
This identification of the “I” and “you” who are the characters in this song/poem
brings us to another point of analysis, another place where we can find meaning. This
comes in examining the point of view, or the POV. The song is written in the second
person or “you” perspective, but as it is a song and we think of certain songs as
speaking for us, or addressing us, or we can dedicate songs to each other, this brings
into play certain dynamics. When we listen to the song, which do we consider
ourselves to be the “you” whom the “I” is trying to convince, the “I” who is addressing
the “you” or and invisible listener eavesdropping on two lovers? Each stance that we
take can evoke different potential meanings.
If we are the “I” then our love hinges on these words reaching the “you,”
convincing the “you.” If we are the “you” in the song, and are being addressed, then
we are asked, is this song powerful enough to convince us of the “love” being
expressed here? Are we convinced? To paraphrase Akon, do these words make us
“want to make lover right na-na-na?” And if we take the voyeuristic eavesdropper
approach, how does this song make us feel about the idea of love and how it is
expressed through music and lyrics?
The second stanza sees a seeming misstep, as it opens with, “You’ve always
been a thorn in their side,” which is an image that falls outside of the “light” central
metaphor/framework, but then in the next lines the song recovers with “You arrive and
the night is alive” and this works as an image that works on both literal and figurative
levels. It evokes a very simple sentiment, which all of us have felt I think. When
someone that we like shows up, suddenly everything is better, and indeed, things
come alive. It also plays into the light metaphor as the “shining light” brings the night to
life.
This then makes the “you” something of a star, if we are to proceed with the idea
that, on a figurative level, the “you” brings the night to life. The song follows through on
this image, with “A constellation once seen/over Royal David’s city” and in the song’s
bridge, “The north star in the firmament/ you shine the most bright.”
This shows how the “you” is a star, making full use of the referents of stars as
not only things that punch holes in the night, providing light, but in these two instances
also showing how the star/”you” provides direction, orientation, shows the “I” where he
is supposed to go. This is also shown in the lines, “An epiphany you burn so pretty,”
which works on a number of levels: the idea that the “you” leads to a realization, or that
the “you” can be consistently showing something bright and new to the “I,” and not
least of all it works rather well because, hey, who wouldn’t want to be compared to
something as poetic and life-changing as an epiphany?
With the image of the constellation over Royal David’s city, we have the
introduction of the idea of the “you” as a messiah or savior, the allusion being quite
hard to miss. This allusion is echoed later in the song, “I’ve seen you draped in an
electric veil/Shrouded in celestial light,” the elevation of the “you” to near messianic
status by the “I” as the “you” which is a “force and a constant source” provides the “I”
with power and strength, to the point of near fanatical devotion as expressed late in the
song, “these are the days you often say there’s nothing we can’t do/Beneath a canopy
of stars I’d shed blood for you.”
All of these meanings are embedded in the litany, “You are a shining light,”
which in itself works as an image because we have heard it before, we have heard
songs and poems and movies and TV and all other forms play with concepts of light
and with the idea of a person being “the light of my life.”
In fact one might consider this a cliché, had the other parts of the song not
applied such striking visuals and played with the different levels that light can operate
at. The song sidesteps becoming cliché by its use of devices such as metaphor and
allusion, these things playing into the song’s framing concept of light.
The song plays with the familiar but presents it in a new way, and that is poetic.
It is also deceptive in its simplicity as it deploys a simple guitar riff repeated over and
over, with very little variation throughout. But this allows for the focus on another
element, the repetition, the catchiness of the melody. Even after hearing this song twice
you can start singing along to it.
A good pop song makes you want to listen to it over and over (hence all the
overplayed songs which give us LSS). A great pop song rewards you with each
listening. And I think that’s what one can get from “Shining Light.” You can listen to it
for its catchy melody, its groovy bass line, its ultra-simple yet lifting coda. And you can
keep coming back to it, unlocking the little things in each of the images that the song
piles up.
The Importance of Not Censoring Cee Lo When He Sings “Fuck You”
Censorship is and always has been a concern. What we can allow in film,
television, music, print, and other media is always something that is negotiated by
social norms and mores, values, and usually what we would be willing to expose others
to. There are some things, I believe, which will always be wrong and taboo (snuff, child
pornography, other similar things) and then there are other things which are commonly
available but based on my aesthetics and personal values I find disgusting and would
much rather not ever see.
Despite my own acknowledgement that there are things I believe are better not
seen or heard, I respect people’s liberties to choose their content. Thus I would rather
that instead of external censors, we help people to develop their own aesthetics so
that they can decide for themselves what is appropriate. While we try to develop that
(something quite utopian really, but we might as well set our goals at the level of utopia
and fall short, than to be bound by what are “manageable expectations”) I believe that
we have to differentiate between content that is blatantly sick, disturbing, or offensive,
and that which manages to use certain images, acts, or language for artistic effect.
It is thus that we move from censorship in general to the censorship of profanity
or what might be considered improper language. We must acknowledge that profanity,
swearing, cursing, or whatever we may want to call it, is part of our daily lexicon, that
though we may not use these words ourselves, we hear them used. Now if you are a
writer and you want to capture a specific kind of character, or a filmmaker and you
similarly want to portray a character, it is essential that you deploy the kind of language
and manner of speaking that the character would. Sometimes writers have to work
around limitations of the form which they are working in. For example the television
series 24 was on American broadcast television network Fox, and thus could not use
profanity. So while it would have been more realistic for Keifer Sutherland’s character
Jack Bauer to say fuck or shit, he would only use the word dammit.
In music, particularly rap and hip-hop, there is a good amount of profanity. It has
reached a point where parental advisory warnings no longer suffice and there are
“clean” versions of albums released, while the “dirty” versions are only sold to buyers
over eighteen. Of course this is easily subverted in the digital age, but the principle
exists. And more telling, that a “clean” version exists which means that you can
understand and appreciate the album with all its expletives replaced with more
acceptable language, or merely rubbed out. This does not bode well then for the usage
of profanity in rap and hip-hop, because it shows that this language is unnecessary,
and the song’s artistry does not suffer by its deletion or replacement.
It is here then that I would like to differentiate Cee Lo’s “Fuck You” from all those
other songs and point to how essential the profanity and use of the word fuck is to
building the song’s meaning. While it sounds crude and crass to say fuck, without it the
song loses a power that is created in the usage of profanity
We must understand the way that profanity operates and how it is accessed in
our brains. Sure we pepper our language with it sometimes, and you don’t have to be a
rapper or a poet to know the various ways that one can deploy the word fuck,
employing it and its conjugations as different parts of speech. But when we use
profanity inadvertently, it points to our neural processes and how the use of profanity
traces back to something primordial and instinctive.
Consider this: You’re walking along and you slip. As you’re falling you don’t think
about it, you just scream out an expletive in response to the surprise of your falling.
Or: You’re hammering in some nails and you accidentally hit your thumb.
Without stopping to think, an expletive issues forth from your lips.
Or: You see your ex-girlfriend in the arms of another. A, “What the fuck?” comes
out rhetorically before you have had the opportunity to process what you are
witnessing.
The explanation is this: Though we do sometimes consciously use profanity in
our language, when things like the examples above happen, we respond instinctively,
with profanity bypass the thought and language centers and just getting blurted out.
When something happens which we respond instinctively to, it is the Amygdala,
the old reptilian part of our brain, where reside the instincts, that is activated. Thus
even the most modest-spoken person can at times say the most profane things, when
this instinctive reaction is provoked. We cannot stop or control this, we just respond
automatically. Again, instinct comes into play, thus without thinking we resort to
profanity just as much as our ancestors would have responded in yelps.
Sometimes well-considered, well-chosen words and proper language fail to
express what we feel. Though we could be more eloquent, that eloquence might not
suit the situation, and it might not even be available to us because we are responding
in an instinctive, automatic fashion.
This is where the brilliance of Cee Lo’s use of profanity comes in. There are
things that cannot be expressed with anything but profanity. Cee Lo uses different
words and metaphors in his song, yet the core of it, the deepest, most real thing he
wants to say can only be expressed by saying, “Fuck you.”
We understand then that sometimes we cannot express ourselves except
through profanity, because the raw power, the unmitigated meaning of it is there. It isn’t
merely the word, but its being profane, which gives it power too. Cee Lo invokes this
power to convey the anger and hurt of the persona in “Fuck You” for powerful dramatic
effect. It is not a mere decision to use profanity to sound cool or strong or street.
Rather it becomes clear that there is no other way to say these things than through the
use of profane language.
He sings, “If I was richer I’d still be with you/ Now ain’t that some shit,” and here
we see again the deployment of profanity furthering the depth of emotion that the
persona cannot convey through any other word, and can only show the hurt and
feeling of rejection by invoking this profanity.
When we consider the cleaned up version, forget you, we cannot help but feel
how hugely the meaning, the impulse behind the sentiment, is gone. It is not merely
replaced, but the feeling is smothered and lost. How far is a fuck you from a forget
you? Sure it’s only a few letters difference, but we all know how much more powerful
and evocative the one is over the other.
And thus when Cee Lo describes the scene, and he sings, “I see you driving
around town with the girl I love and I’m like fuck you and fuck her too,” we get that real,
powerful emotion that could not be expressed in any other way than to evoke this kind
of language. We must not censor this, lest we lose that which Cee Lo has chosen to
express.
His decision to use expletives and deploy them as he has is an artistic and
aesthetic choice. Thus I believe we must admire and appreciate this decision, because
it conveys a meaning more powerfully precisely because of that choice. More
importantly, no other words work as well to illustrate and express what the persona
feels. After all, when taking the dramatic situation presented in the song, what else can
one say, really, to express all the pain, hurt, anger, rejection, betrayal, loss, yearning,
regret, and hatred, than, “Fuck You?”
OA, Senti, and Emo
(This first appeared in the Metakritiko section of thepoc.net)
I was sitting back, listening to a song with my eyes closed. When I opened
them, the girl I was with asked me why I closed my eyes. I said that I felt the song was
so powerful and that I kind of just wanted to go with it. I told her about the song’s
structure, how it developed from one part to the next, how the thematic movement,
lyrically, was matched by its musical movement. She nodded, then said, “Ang emo mo
naman. (You’re so emo.)”
Needless to say I was frustrated by this response. Emo, as far as I understand
the term, once referred to a subgenre of punk, emo-punk, which eventually dropped
the punk (and a lot of rebelliousness that goes along with punk) and became emo. It
was then further reappropriated not merely to define that subgenre of music, what with
its weepy mascara-clad frontmen screaming sadly about some girl or other who won’t
talk to them or won’t love them anymore, over wailing guitars and way-too-active
drumming, to come to define a state in which a person is “emotional.” I find the use of
the word in this way, and the way in which the way we understand emo vis-à-vis
emotional, something that’s worth stopping and thinking about.
What we are referring to here, of course, is what might be called an overflow of
emotion. These are usually good when you’re trying to create art, if you believe
Wordsworth. But in real life, to be called out for showing a little too much emotion in a
culture that revels in its overflows of emotion means something.
My parents, in their time, had a term for it, and it’s the term that I generally relate
to people who were being overly emotional or maudlin. They would call you OA. I take
it to mean that OA was an abbreviation of “overacting.” This was used thus: when a
person has an overly emotional response, or is too sensitive about something, you say,
“Ang OA mo naman.”
Of course this seems like a misuse of the term overacting. I assume that
overacting would actually refer to actors and their hamming it up. I’m thinking, say, the
screamy Al Pacino of the last few years, or well, most of the work that Nicholas Cage
has done. That would be the proper use for the term OA.
In the context of how it was appropriated though, I believe that it was deployed
to mean over-reacting. Like for example, if you crack a joke and then someone can’t
take that joke and walks out, you could be called OA. Or a celebrity walks by and
someone starts hyperventilating and blabbering, that’s OA.
This term was also employed when people were getting overly emotional. I saw
it used often, when someone of my parents’ age would get ready to say something
emotional, someone else would just cut him or her off and say, “O tama na ‘yan, wag
kang OA.”
In this sense the word was meant to prevent an upcoming fit of melodrama, or
to stanch a bout of the maudlin. It called to attention an outburst of emotion that would
lead to awkwardness.
When I was in high school another term was being used to refer to fits of the
maudlin, and this was “senti.” I think that this term sprang from music as well,
particularly what were, at the time, being referred to as “senti sounds.” I think that
people still refer to the particular brand of songs being sung by, say, Richard Marx or
David Pomeranz as such. I distinctly remember a couple of Chicago songs that fell
under that classification, “Hard to Say I’m Sorry” and “If You Leave Me Now.” While
those are two tracks that probably won’t rise to the top when I compile a Chicago
mixtape, they are the band’s songs that get the most airplay. Similarly, a number of
songs from hair-metal bands fall into the “senti” mode, such as “Two Steps Behind,”
“When I See You Smile,” and “Every Rose Has Its Thorn.” Heck, even Guns N’ Roses
get thrown in with songs like “Patience.” I don’t exactly know how or at which point
“Patience” came to fall on the same playlist as “It Might Be You” but it happened. And I
would think that the sentimentality, as well as the sentiment, was what came into play.
I feel it’s important to look at the difference between the two. Sentiment is
feeling and emotion. Sentimentality is too much feeling and emotion. Which is to say
that Sentimentality is sentiment made OA. And that’s what I feel we sense in those
songs which we have branded as senti, an unabashed display of emotion, not held
back or tempered by anything, but rather just all out there. The lyricism of the songs is
direct, often too direct in the expression of emotions. They seem like the listener is
being bludgeoned with a blunt instrument with the kinds of emotions that they attempt
to convey. The music is similarly direct, meant to evoke as much feeling without any
kind of layering or tension.
These songs appeal to us because of their simplicity, their directness. I’m not
indicting these songs as bad, as there are a good number of senti songs that I like. I
like some of their arrangements, I like how direct the lyrics are. I wouldn’t classify them
as great works of art, as they are a bit too blunt and direct, but some of them are
definitely great songs, or just stuff that’s really enjoyable to listen to. What I call
attention to is the idea that we are drawn to these songs because there is a sense of
honesty and sincerity in their directness, but also, because of the blunt approach, we
are at times repelled by the rawness of emotion. Emotion, when filtered through art,
becomes more powerful and meaningful. But when the sentiment goes the way of
sentimentality, it has the possibility of being kitschy. And while in the throes of high
school passion and love, it makes sense to try and play these songs to possible
significant others or to dedicate these songs and name them “theme songs,”
becoming a step removed reveals how irretrievably corny these songs, and such
behavior as are dubbed senti, can be. And lest you think that I feel that I am being
judgmental or acting as if I am above everyone else who has done these things or
something similar, I will admit to my own cringe-inducing better-left-unremembered
moments in relation to Aerosmith’s version of “I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing.”
We see then that often, when someone says senti, they are referring to
sentimentality, and it has reached a point where people have forgotten, really, what
sentiment means, how it is important. Sentiment is the emotion and the feeling filtered
through art. With the right restraint, emotion becomes even more powerful. And yet
we’ve forgotten about sentiment because we have been surrounded by sentimentality.
I feel that juxtaposing sentiment and sentimentality is analogous to when we pair
up emotion and the now vogue term “emo.” Sentimentality is sentiment gone OA, so
emo is, similarly, emotion gone OA. OA to the point of screaming and crying in front of
a crowd, as the emo frontmen are wont to do. And in the same way that I hold on to
the importance of sentiment, I hold to the importance of emotion, and even to the
intense overflow of emotion.
What happens with emo though, is that it fails to be recollected in tranquility. It is
channeled pre-tranquility, into songs, or blog entries, or tweets, or status posts. It’s this
direct, blatant show of emotion, untempered. And it’s the ubiquity of such sharing of
emotion that has led to the use of emo as a term to label not only a brand of music, but
a way of sharing one’s emotions blatantly, without any filtering.
What is more troubling is that the line between being called emo and referring to
something that would reflect emotion is disappearing. To show emotion, to think about
something deeply and to respond in an emotional manner, will get you called emo,
regardless of whether you are, in fact, being emo or senti. In much the same way that
expressing sentiment might get you called senti, expressing emotion means you’re
liable to be labeled emo.
But I feel that it’s important for us to recognize the difference between these
things and to encourage one and not the other. I would love it if more people
expressed their feelings, emotions, and sentiments in a manner that was artistic.
Perhaps we would have a much more productive, healthier, and richer culture and
society if we encouraged people to express their sentiments and emotions through
some kind of artistic filter. I’m not asking that everyone’s tweets or status updates
become lines of poetry, but that they veer from sentimentality and express sentiment,
that they temper their emo so that they can express their emotions artistically. I realize
that this sounds like something that should be filed away under some utopian project,
as there are way too many social ills to be addressed to worry about making people’s
thoughts artistic. Seeing as to how this is all a thought experiment anyway, hey, why
not try to shape consciousness through expression? Why not try and build a social
consciousness that won’t easily dismiss deep thought about emotions as emo or the
other, quite ubiquitous term applied to deep thought, “nosebleed.”
I understand that we are playful with language in our culture. I know full well the
Pinoy penchant for wordplay and punning. And it’s clear to me that we create our
language by appropriating and re-appropriating and defining and re-defining words to
suit our needs and purposes. But when we look at OA, senti, and emo, we see words
that can be used for social control: “Ang OA/senti/emo mo naman.” They stop people
from expressing over-reactions, sentimentality, and emo. But they are also making us
forget the words and the concepts behind them. And they might be stopping us from
expressing genuine feeling, sentiment, and emotion.