When studying Marx and Engels’ “The Ruling Class and the Ruling Ideas,” Dr. Arnzen and I discussed how machinery gained an almighty power during the industrial revolution. As machinery replaced the human worker’s role in the factory, people were driven from their work and therefore blamed the machine for their loss. As human presence in production became less necessary, the machine acquired more power, eventually coming to occupy a God-like rule over the workers who feared they’d been replaced by the machines. This week I read “The Medium is the Message,” an excerpt from Marshall McLuhan’s book Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man, written in 1964. I enjoyed this selection because I thought McLuhan was quick to debunk the view of the mythic machine as a living god in order to show that machines (or any object, for that matter) have no power of their own. Machines actually lack an intended use or purpose. The object itself is useless; its purpose (good or bad) is decided by people. Only when the human mind claims an object must we fear. It’s impossible to predict what effects our manipulation will bring.
McLuhan includes several examples of mediums that have no “message.” An electric light, for example, has no message. Nor does an apple pie or firearms. However, when manipulated in various ways, these mediums acquire messages. The electric light could be in the headlight of a deep-sea vehicle investigating wrecked ships, or the light bulb could rest in the lamps at a baseball stadium. The light itself has no message; but when manipulated, it gains new significance. Apple pie is neither good nor bad. When eaten, pie could fill an empty belly, and its purpose would be good; but when used as hair conditioner, apple pie isn’t beneficial.
Those are silly examples, but I think that they illustrate McLuhan’s point well. While reading the rest of the essay, I tended to fill in “medium” with words like “television,” “radio,” and “Internet.” McLuhan is inviting us to critique how we respond to our own uses (and abuses) of media.
I think most people would say that television is “bad.” Even people who are glued to their television sets usually still say negative things about TV. The attacks against television are many and varied. Some people have claimed that our devotion to TV has weakened familial interaction, decreased physical activity in people and increased the occurrence of obesity, and perpetuated violent behavior, thus contributing to growing crime statistics. People are quick to criticize television for causing these things, but TV does not actually CAUSE these problems. But even though people are ultimately responsible for their own actions, we still point the finger of blame at naughty television.
TV itself is not bad, but it’s possible that its messages are harmful. Now my question is: what other messages could TV hold? As McLuhan pointed out, apple pie can have different messages. We normally eat apple pie, but that doesn’t mean that apple pie has to be used that way. Avant-garde artists have used untraditional materials in their work and the message or meaning of those materials changed in its new context. For Jackson Pollock, an ordinary stick became a fantastic new paintbrush. The Dada artists used pieces of trash in their “nonsense” art, and despite their best efforts to make anti-art, their garbage did indeed become art.
These revolutionary artists saw past the tried and true conventions of the grand masters; they saw a new way to use materials around them, and then they brought new purpose to these objects. Similarly, television could be given a new life or purpose, but I have no idea of the possible purposes that could be discovered or created.
Currently, TV has a variety of purposes or messages. It provides filmed shows for viewing; some are “for entertainment” and some are informational, such as the news. But, TV is deeper than that. TV presents cultural views and it omits cultural views; from these discrepancies, we shape our understanding of our environment. TV is more than just images flickering on a screen; it’s programming that programs us! It conditions our minds to think and see certain things. And what we don’t see on television is as important as what we do see.
Today I received my acceptance letter from Carnegie Mellon's graduate program in Literary and Cultural Studies! :D
I'm absolutely thrilled and giddy right now, and I wanted to share the good news with anyone in the blogosphere.
Hunter S. Thompson, dead at 67.
Do I sense a tiny bit of optimism? Over the past several weeks, I’ve read some incredibly dismal takes on culture, class, and society. After last week’s experience with Horkheimer and Adorno, I’d given up all of my hope (which is not much, but still) for society. With claims like “Fun is a medicinal bath,” how can one expect to go on? Gulp! Perhaps good ol’ Max and Theodor were extremists, and that’s why I’m reading Jürgen Habermas’ “The Public Sphere: An Encyclopedia Article” as uplifting, even though it still points out flaws in the media-dominated public sphere we know today.
In this selection from his book, Critical Theory and Society: A Reader, Habermas discusses how the “public sphere” emerged in bourgeois society in the 18th century. He sees the public sphere as a kind of mediator between society and state, between public and private interests, through which the public can organize its opinion. Thus, the public sphere is a forum in which people are “unrestricted” in what they say and are guaranteed freedom of expression in all of its forms. (This element of freedom is why Habermas says the public sphere could not/did not exist prior to the existence of bourgeois society.)
The new public sphere allowed people (for the first time) to shape public opinion. The public could make their private concerns known through multiple means, but print became highly important. During the periods of the French and American revolutions, Habermas notes that people were quick to assemble and seize newspapers as political tools. Upon distribution, even the more private publications showcased an incredibly loud voice of the public in response to the state publications.
Habermas includes a quote from Karl Bücher that describes the situation that then unfolded as a result of the changing press: “Newspapers changed from mere institutions for the publication of news into bearers and leaders of public opinion – weapons of party politics. This transformed the newspaper business. A new element emerged between the gathering and publication of news: the editorial staff. But for the newspaper publisher it meant that he changed from a vendor recent news to a dealer in public opinion.” The state of newspapers as described by Bücher seems ideal; it’s a forum that is open to and indeed created by the combined voices of the public. However, this state of journalism was short-lived. The public sphere lost its power to, what else? According to Habermas, consumer interests. Naturally.
“Although the liberal model of the public sphere is still instructive today with respect to the normative claim that information be accessible to the public, it cannot be applied to the actual conditions of an industrially advanced mass democracy organized in the form of the social welfare state.” Well said, Habermas. “Because of the diffusion of press and propaganda,” the public sphere lost its voice. Groups of people have had to change their voice and their stances in order to receive any voice at all in the media. If their agenda doesn’t satisfy the political authorities (which are closely connected to media supervisors), then it’s simply not fit to print. In the end, these groups with the voices that once stood out from the political sphere must compromise their goals, relinquish their social power, and become part of the political sphere itself.
By the time one reaches the end of Habermas’ article on the public sphere, it’s not so far off from the dismal writings of Horkheimer and Adorno. Well, at least it’s equally as dark in terms of theme; I’d say the language employed is far less discouraging. At least Habermas argues that there once existed a time in which the media wasn’t corrupt; but it’s a shame that the only time at which the press was at its ideal form was during political revolution.
This week, I waded through Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno’s “The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception.” Like Walter Benjamin, Horkheimer and Adorno are critical of the mass reproduction of art because under the circumstances of mechanical reproduction, art ceases to be art. When readily available and easily produced, art becomes commodity.
Horkheimer and Adorno claim that “culture now impresses the same stamp on everything” (71). Although first published in 1948, their critiques of film, music, and print materials seem to hold true for today’s “art.” The most obvious example of the sameness of art that occurs to me is in the film industry. First, notice that I used the word “industry” to describe filmmaking. It is rarely art, creation, or original craft. It is more like a business or factory that churns out one product after another. Regardless of how major filmmakers defend their works, films are ultimately one in the same. It is rare that a person can go to a theater, watch a movie, and leave feeling surprised, moved, or inspired. That is because each movie does nothing unique; they are merely new spins on old, proven formulas. In an Art of Film class I took last year, we discussed that at its simplest form, the general Hollywood movie follows the basic plot of: man desires X, man establishes plan to achieve X, man executes plan, man nearly fails in his attempt to reach X, man finally achieves X. X can be represented by a variety of fillers – the woman the man loves, the victory on the battlefield, recognition from his boss, acceptance from his parents – but it always exists as something to fill a lack in the man’s life.
These familiar plots fail to move us, but to worsen the movie experience is the fact that characters do not exist – only celebrities persevere. When we go to a movie, we fail to identify with the character; instead, we see Tom Cruise, Ashton Kutcher, or Robert DeNiro. Or Glenn Close, Nicole Kidman, Jessica Alba. While some of these actors have been honored for their acting ability, one should be careful in proclaiming their true talent. Usually, actors are cast because they have a look and reputation that will draw people to see the film. Forget about their ability to act. All that matters is their ability to attract large numbers of viewers, which means they can bring in money.
The audience is unaware that they’re flocking to cheap, thoughtless films without reason. People are probably drawn to these films because they fail to see them AS films. “Real life is becoming indistinguishable from the movies,” and “the film forces its victims to equate it with reality” (Horkheimer and Adorno 75). Film conventions and camera technique have advanced to the point that people no longer understand how to critique film as a work of film. Instead, they perceive what they see to be truth or real on some level. Although they recognize that it’s a work of film, they do not consciously register how the film functions. Because they cannot recognize its weaknesses and strengths as a work of art, viewers blindly follow the plot. They overlook the fact that the film’s been “done” countless times before under different titles.
Filmgoers praise a film for innovation when the film’s packaging deceives them. Repetition remains the building block of film (or popular music, or visual art, or whatever genre you care to analyze), regardless of how it’s packaged. Within any genre, “its characteristic innovations are never anything more than improvements of mass reproduction,” and the viewers/consumers are “directed to the technique, and not to the contents – which are stubbornly repeated, outworn, and by now half-discredited” (Horkheimer and Adorno 81). Remakes and sequels are filmmakers’ scams to play on the feeble-minded audience that is incapable of realizing when they’re being played. Why did anyone bother to see the Godzilla remake that was released in the mid-90s? The plot was well known, and the monster was familiar. Effects and flashy images drew audiences, however. People like to gawk in amazement at the packaging. People want to be thrilled or amazed by visuals. A film is “good” by the majority’s standards if it succeeds in entertaining; never mind that it can have other (more challenging) purposes.
After reading Horkheimer and Adorno’s essay, I still can’t understand HOW the culture industry maintains its grip on consumers. How could people not be bored to tears with the readily accessible products in film, music, and print? When I turn to MTV, I see the same video for the same rap song that I heard the month before, and the year before, and the year before that. And then, there’s a new pop singer, but she looks exactly like one who came and went three years before. There’s no point in going to the theater, because one already knows the plot. And with popular magazines, one never receives news; it’s always the same structure that teases with a juicy story and then leaves the reader hanging. Since there is nothing exciting or interesting to be found in the culture industry’s products, why don’t more people seek independent works or venues? Or why don’t more people protest these products in hope of encouraging change? It kills me to think that the masses have truly acclimated to the mediocre products peddled by the Industry.
For this week I read Walter Benjamin’s “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.” I was familiar with this essay because I had read part of it in my “Philosophy of Art” class last spring. Before I re-read it, I looked at my notes from when we discussed it in class, and I laughed when I saw one thing I had written: “an extremely dated Marxist interpretation.”
Benjamin’s essay is a well-planned argument in opposition to the mechanical reproduction of art. In his eyes, reproduction (by means of photography or film) cheapens an artwork’s aura. The lazy means of reproduction devalue the artistic process by eliminating the genius behind the work as well as destroying the history and authenticity of the original piece. Benjamin would hold a painting like Picasso’s Guernica in high regard. But to take a photograph of that painting and turn it into a poster available for purchase at Ikea is to ruin the art by turning it into commodity.
I agree with Benjamin in his opinion that the mass marketing of art does somehow cheapen the originals. Today, one might reason that it isn’t necessary to travel to MOMA when she could have the same “experience” by doing a Google Image search. Respect for art and/or the artist, respect for creativity, and respect for genius are all lost under these circumstances. At the same time, the access to reproductions has eliminated the “ritual function” in art. Before mechanical reproduction, viewers worshipped art. The one pro to mechanical reproduction that Benjamin mentions is that it frees viewers by “emanicpat[ing] the work of art from its parasitical dependence on ritual.”
To this point, I can accept and agree with Benjamin. It is the latter part of his essay (where he criticizes film) that I feel is “dated.” Although film had been firmly established by 1935 when Benjamin wrote his essay, I don’t think he had carefully evaluated filmmakers and directors as artists. He treats film as silly, simple, emotionally deprived movie making – not as art. I do recognize that such “film” exists – just take a look at the latest Hollywood exports playing at your local movie theater. However, film, like painting, literature, dance, and theatre, comes with a set of conventions that make it an Art form. And film doesn’t have to follow these conventions. Painters and other traditional artists break the rules all the time; innovation is part of what makes art ‘art.’
Had Benjamin considered Hitchcock’s attention to detail, symbolism, and craftsmanship, I think he would have changed his argument.
However, Benjamin is looking at film mostly from the actor’s point of view. In his eyes, film is inferior to theatre because he sees the film actor as being detached from his art – much like how the worker in the factory is detached from the fruits of his labor. In a film production, the actor is just one part in the assembly line. He feels the theatre actor is the better artist because he is playing to a crowd of living people and not to a machine: the camera.
Benjamin also suggests that the camera is responsible for robbing the film viewer of the “whole picture.” Camera angles, zooms, and cropped shots distort the truth or reality of what’s really going on in the making of the movie. But if camerawork is just a device to hide certain aspects of what is happening, what can we say of the theatre’s devices? What’s hiding behind the curtain? What are the characters doing off of the stage? What was character A doing while character B was on stage? As with film, theatre makes conscious choices about what the audiences can and will see.
One thing that audience members will definitely see in a theater production is a character. Benjamin feels that the stage actor is able to inhabit the character role so well that the audience no longer sees him as an actor, but as the true character. Film, on the other hand, is a commercial industry. Hollywood is especially guilty of turning actors not into characters, but into stars. The cult of celebrity ensures that people will go out to see the newest Catherine Zeta-Jones flick, but it doesn’t promise that people will remember her character’s name. Aside from making movies, Hollywood studios make images. They turn an actor into a star, and a star is a product. People will go to any movie, no matter how bad it is, as long as Jennifer Lopez is in it. Remember Gigli?
If I were able to talk to Benjamin today, I’d be curious to know if he would reconsider his criticism of film after brushing up on today’s film studies. I also wonder if he would more likely see films as art if he saw them as works of a director, and not as products by an actor? Or, would he maintain that all film is garbage because it’s not produced by the genius of one person? Film is collaborative, but it is born thanks to the inspiring vision of one person.