Immigrant Fetishization (supplemental post 5)

Beyond the fetishization of the female body for the male gaze, there is another somewhat disturbing trend I see which is the fetishization of an entire culture for the (literal) gaze of American audiences. And the power dynamic is almost the exact same: the framing of the outside or immigrant culture to please or at least attract the attention of the more dominant, American culture.

A couple years ago there was this really terrible TV show on NBC called "Outsourced." Riding in on the coattails of Slumdog Millionaire's success, "Outsourced" was the first time South Asian culture was being framed for a passive TV-watching American audience. I will admit, I was super excited to watch the show. And running up to its premier, I would watch all of the trailers as they were released. I noticed the blatant racism and overemphasis on Indian stereotypes that are just wrong and, at least to me, pretty offensive: Indian people eat really spicy food that'll mess up your digestive system for sure, they smell, there are cows all over the streets even in the most developed cities and ALL Indian people work in IT.

All of these stereotypes were meant to be funny and I don't think the show was trying to actively subordinate, fetishize or make fun of Indian culture. Still, I noticed that the show made Indian culture seem more vulnerable and a lot "lesser" in comparison to American culture. I mean, the few American characters in the show were constantly in a position of dominance, replaying a version of the colonial narrative all over again. So, perhaps the most disturbing part was that this subordination was almost unconscious. Unintentional but still very, very present. Is American culture so dominant that when trying to integrate an 'other' this other is necessarily (framed as) lesser?

I haven't watched "Fresh Off the Boat," and I know the show has gotten a lot of really wonderful reviews, but I have also heard that like "Outsourced" it similarly struggles with its own authenticity. Does the show fetishize east asian culture in a similar way? Or, is it in a wholly different (and more acceptable) sphere because it's narrating the story of an immigrant growing up in the US and is therefore an American story and not one of an outsider? 

Cultural appropriation and capitalism - Sandhya Nadadur, Core Post #5

The reading on Carmen Miranda struck a particular chord with me in terms of the way it explored how she, a Brazilian, came to stand in not only for all of South America, but also for Central America. She was a crucial part of the Fox machinery that used sweeping generalizations in the name of appealing to all of the financially able consumers in the Latin American markets. At the same time, she was a beautiful Brazilian woman instrumentalized to make all of (apparently) foreign Latin America that much less threatening. Nonetheless, she was being used in the name of cultural appropriation. To introduce the US to our neighbors, and to include Latin America in the US, at least on a cultural level.

This reading got me thinking about how we appropriate bollywood into popular american media today. It is, without a doubt, exoticized. And not necessarily for a bad reason, but I wonder if at a certain point efforts at appropriation just become sweeping generalizations. For Miranda, this line was crossed when she was used to represent a series of Latin American countries, each with their unique differences. In turn, this made all of Latin America seem like an ambiguous whole, which problematized the clarity with which the general American public viewed (the destructive) US foreign policy actions in several of the countries. So, within the context of bollywood, what impact does this kind of generalization have on the spectator (as in, US audiences), and in turn, how does this impact the country of origin (India)?

With respect to the former, I think the element of bollywood cinema that really stands out and has made its way into American culture is the dancing. So, knowing this, I would argue that when an American thinks of bollywood, the first thing they do think of are the elaborate, colorful dance pieces. And this isn't necessarily wrong, because a huge part of bollywood cinema is the dancing. But, I think the way in which this Western affinity towards bollywood dance representing all of bollywood has, in turn, effected the way that bollywood sees itself is problematic. Similar to the way in which Carmen Miranda donned bananas and other exotic imports from Latin America as a part of her costume, and how these fruits did end up becoming some of the most popular Latin American imports, bollywood dance is becoming one of the most important Indian cultural imports into the US.

This is interesting because, responding the the latter part of the question I posed earlier, the popularity of bollywood dance in the US has actually influenced the content of bollywood films, encouraging them (more than ever before) to film these dance sequences in exotic western countries or even set these films somewhere in the western world. In effect, I feel like they're becoming a lot less 'bollywood' and a lot more American. Obviously this is in part the result of a general trend of globalization, but a part of me can't help but think that bollywood is trying harder and harder to feed into the American capitalist structure and as a result losing a lot of it's own culture in the process. Ultimately, I wonder if it's possible for an outside culture to appropriate itself within an American context without feeling compelled to reap the (apparent) economic benefits that American society can provide by, quite literally, consuming them. 

Amal Clooney (supplemental post)

I think Amal Clooney is really, really cool. A little while ago, when she was on her way into the European Court of Human Rights a UK Telegraph journalist stopped her and actually asked her if she was donning any Versace. 

How is it even remotely appropriate for a journalist covering a human rights story to jump completely out of that context and ask Amal Clooney what brand she is wearing?

Besides her effortlessly witty response (Amal retorted “Ede & Ravenscroft,” the makers of English legal robes), I thought this whole event touched on a lot of issues we had discussed in class with respect to the female body being the object of the gaze. Indeed, it really highlights the ways in which the female body is fragmented and, in turn, made more vulnerable. 

On a physical level, that the journalist asked what brand Amal was wearing not only reveals that clothing, fashion and its associated status are more important than the actual substance of her job as a human rights attorney, but also, more simply, suggests that when it comes to a female in a position of power, what she’s wearing is actually apparently important (or, at least the public is curious enough to want to know). So, physically, her achievements and work are disassociated from her body.

This kind of persona fragmentation (Amal’s job as an attorney disassociated from her physical body, which is the object of gaze) unsurprisingly places her in a position of vulnerability. She can be a human rights attorney, or she can be a woman wearing high fashion, but it seems like the media is not ready to see these two concepts wedded together in one person, when, ironically enough, they are in Amal Clooney. It is as if the media refuses to see someone who is so authoritative and in a position of power also be a woman and, simply, look good.

Robeson and Sinatra's "Ol' Man River" - Sandhya Nadadur Core Post #4

A theme that repeatedly surfaced in Dyer's extensive analysis of Paul Robeson was that of "essentialism." Much of Robeson's unique persona stemmed from his deviation from this cultural expectation that African-Americans were essentially different. Indeed, Dyer reveals that much of the criticism in response to Robeson's portrayal of Othello came because the audience "desire[d] to see the racial dimension" of Othello "in terms of essential racial differences." Because Robeson was the first African-American to play the part on such prominent stages, critiques looked for "the blackness of emotionality, unreason and sensuality" in his portrayal. (Heavenly Bodies, 75). Robeson didn't give this to them - he, perhaps consciously, did not give the role of Othello sufficient barbarity.

In fact, it is not unlike Robeson to deviate from prevailing cultural expectations. Even in his singing, he "sings the melody straight through, with little adornment...or the jazz use of syncopation" (Heavenly Bodies, 79). I re-watched Robeson's rendition of "Ol' Man River" and his voice is, unsurprisingly, simple yet deeply soulful and emotional. I then listened to Sinatra's rendition of the same song, which was performed about 10 years after Robeson's, and noticed a striking similarity between their singing styles.

However, the caveat is that the similarity between Robeson and Sinatra's renditions of "Ol' Man River" ends with the auditory similarity. Visually, the two performances convey two distinct experiences, which, in turn, harkens back to this idea of "essentialism." It seems that even if internally Robeson defies essentialist expectations, externally he is framed in such a way that his performance is still consistent with prevailing expectations.

While, unlike in Sinatra's performance of "Ol' Man River", Robeson's performance forms a part of Show Boat's narrative, a few particular things nonetheless stand out:

1. For the most part, Robeson is alone in the frame. When he does share the frame with others, he appears on their level. 

2. Within the context of the film, Robeson isn't performing this song for any audience. This is emphasized by what he is wearing: something a typical worker might wear. 

2. Indeed, the fact that images of Robeson singing are cross-cut with images of workers toiling strongly places the song within the context of  the plight of African-American workers. 

Sinatra's visual performance of the song is a distinct departure from Robeson's:

 

1. Not only is Sinatra standing, he is also elevated on a podium and towers over everyone around him.  

2. He, and everyone else, is dressed completely in white. This challenges the thematic soundness of this song because the song is about workers toiling in the fields. It doesn't make sense that these workers could be dressed in full white suits. 

3. Sinatra's rendition is self-conscious of its performativity. That is, the meticulously choreographed movements, carefully planned visual symmetry/ camera movements and the appearance of the orchestra, reveal that Sinatra's performance knows that it is just that: a performance. 

Perhaps Sinatra is able to successfully depart from the song's original meaning because, given his race, he is able to negotiate and interpret the thematic elements of "Ol' Man River" outside of its original context. By contrast, Robeson (even when he consciously departs from what one would expect him to sound like), is still literally framed within a context (and therefore confined to a context) where his race and the associated narrative almost necessarily align with "essentialist" expectations. 

Marlon Brando's search for a lost masculinity - Sandhya Nadadur Core Post #3

Brash. Brawny. Bold. From the overly-tight shirt that leaves little to the imagination, to the massive sweat stain running down the middle of his shirt, to the flexed muscles and even the sly off-center look that suggests inaccessibility, Stanley Kowalsi in A Streetcar Named Desire (and by extension Marlon Brando) is unmistakably masculine. Indeed, he often occupies the entire frame (just as he is doing above) shedding light on the fact that his dominance and masculinity stems from his physical presence.

This image of Marlon Brando is emblematic not only of his character in the film, Stanley Kowalski, but also sheds light on particular tensions underpinning his personal life.

Brando is a well-noted method actor, which makes his portrayal of Stanley Kowalski particularly powerful, especially when taken within the context of his personal life. Brando was the son of alcoholic parents. His mother was practically absent while his father was abusive. He was a military school dropout. As a result, during the most formative years of his life, Brando's masculinity was consistently threatened. This context allows Brando's portrayal of Kowalski to serve as a fictional extension of his true personality (SID, 224).

Thus, through the lens of Stanley Kowalski, we can see Brando compensating for a personally diminished masculinity, which in turn promotes the authentic development of the work, which can be defined as a melodrama. Brando's well known inability to maintain stable relationships in his personal life can be seen through Stanley Kowalski's unstable relationship with his pregnant wife, Stella. In the scene where Kowalski throws and destroys the radio, physically threatens his wife, shuns her from the home and then cries until she comes back is nothing short of poignant. It also perfectly embodies Brando's emotional instability and conflicted relationship with dominance and vulnerability.

Dyer might even see Brando as embodying the cultural tension surrounding the definition of masculinity. Does ones masculinity rely on the way one looks and occupies space? Or, does it rely on ones interpersonal relationships? While with respect to the former, Brando certainly would be considered masculine, the latter point problematizes his masculinity because he has to literally beg Stella to come back to him (which, at the end of the day, he always successfully manages to do). In embodying this tension, and further in receiving widespread recognition for his role as Stanley Kowalski, Brando not only reveals cultural tensions surrounding masculinity. but in doing so, also embodies them.

Ultimately, the fictional Stanley Kowalski serves as a pathway for the star, Marlon Brando, to express his hidden "moral drives and desires" (SID, 224). That is, a desire to prove an otherwise threatened masculinity. In turn, this mutually beneficial relationship between the Kowalski and Brando sheds light on the the film's overwhelming success as a melodrama because it conflates Stanley Kowalski's fictional search for a lost masculinity with Marlon Brando's very real journey to the same end.  

The reel hero vs. the real hero - Sandhya Nadadur Blog Post #2

deCordova’s reading grapples with the issue of a player or actor’s role outside of his or her work in films by asking the question: is your reel hero ever a real hero? While his essay and this question refers to the beginnings of the “star” system in the early 1900s, in my opinion, the separation – or lack thereof – between character roles and the individual who is regarded as the “star” remains relevant to our contemporary understanding of stars as well. deCorva’s response to this question in light of the early 1900 star system was that the real hero behaves just like a reel hero because the “the private life of the star was not to be in contradiction with his/ her film image” (27).  In other words, it is out of necessity that the actor have a persona outside that is just as much a performance in order to promote his or her actual performance, harkening back to the way theater actors were consumed by their roles both on and off stage. 

But, in the literal sense, the idea that reel and real hero’s are the same no longer holds; the fact that prominent film stars have political and social clout suggests that their prominence on screen translates into power off-screen. Indeed, that few days after the earthquake in Haiti Angelina Jolie was seen working beside the UNHCR in the country as a US ambassador, or Ben Affleck is consistently invited to the White House Correspondent’s dinner, supports this sentiment.

This brings to the surface a subtlety in the relationship between the star’s role on screen and his or her persona off screen. Unlike when the star system first surfaced, it seems that in the modern star system, there is more of a symbiotic relationship between the character and the persona. That is, a star may gain prominence for a role they played on screen, but in turn, the social recognition they receive as a result of this performance translates into social prominence off screen – a mutually beneficial relationship.

That the relationship between on and off screen persona is more circular, conflates the original separation film sought between character and persona. deCordova mentions how film actors felt that at the end of the day they could return home and become “normal” people again. However, the idea that Angelina Jolie or Matt Damon is still performing their role as “stars” off of the screen, be that in Haiti or at the White House Correspondent’s dinner, conflates these two roles. As a result, we cannot help but ask if our modern star system isn’t too different from the theatrical stardom it once separated itself from. At the end of the day, do Angelina Jolie and Matt Damon return home and cease to be stars? Probably not.

The Star vs. The Individual - Sandhya Nadadur Response #1

Richard Dyer emphasizes how stars are models of consumption – their physical body, values and habits can almost be seen as blank slates for consumer marketing.

Indeed, the development of Eve’s character in All About Eve – from the awe-struck fan to the sought-after star – is only possible because she ‘consumes’ everything about Bette Davis’ character, from the way she dresses to the way she bows on stage after a performance. This successful transformation of her character speaks to the power of stars, both in terms of the economic potential they have as marketing tools, but also in terms of the social prowess they have over their consumers.

Yet, the thought that stars are merely living and breathing advertisements is an unsettling one, especially when we take into account that they, too, are people. Therefore, I think it is crucial to distinguish star from person. While the former is a construct, the latter is a human. Dyer emphasizes that a character is a constructed representation of a person, implicitly suggesting that being a star, as a result of the character you play, is at least somewhat artificial. As consumers, we do not have a complete picture of the person who the star represents; instead, what is made publicly visible is strung together to create a whole that is not necessarily an accurate depiction of the individual.

However, this distinction is not often made clear (and is maybe even intentionally conflated), problematizing our ability as consumers to separate the star from the person. In turn, this suggests that crucial to becoming a star is not only being carefully constructed but also in maintaining an aura of unattainability. Indeed, Eve’s rise to stardom is very constructed: she lies about her life story and her internal workings are veiled in obscurity. At any given moment, we do not understand Eve’s true motivations, while those of Margo Channing are more transparent. In the same vein, Margo Channing’s fall from stardom can be attributed in part to the fact that as members of the audience, we increasingly see more about what her actual life is like: her internal, and very human, relationship conflicts with Bill Simpson, for example.

Thus, the mistaken idea that the part – being a sensationalized star – comes to represent the whole person, contributes to the creation of a hierarchy between the star and his or her consumer. The constant battle to bridge this gap, not just to model oneself after the star, but to actually become the star, may be what sustains the practice of stardom in our culture. Perhaps disturbingly, All About Eve is a testament to the success of the Dyer’s model: Eve openly models herself, her actions and her appearance after her idol, Margo Channing. In turn, and as the movie comes to a close, it is clear that she is now the sought-after “star” model for young girls, perpetuating the practice.

I find it very interesting that the practice of recreating stars has sustained itself for this long and wonder how our perception and creation of stars will adapt with the rising popularity of social media and platforms like youtube since, in these cases, it is widely accepted that anybody can create content, collapsing the traditional hierarchy between star and consumer.