Category: Uncategorized

CW: Death and gore

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Scrolling through Twitter the other day, I noticed “TikTok Decapitation” was trending, and I tapped on the hashtag. Tweets described a TikTok video to look out for and report–a girl dancing and then being beheaded. I cast my phone aside; I’m not on TikTok anyways. 

Today, I noticed that same topic was trending as a Google search: “TikTok beheading Vimeo,” which suggests that people are seeking out the video, probably blocked on YouTube but uploaded to Vimeo. My question is why? 

People’s attraction to gory media is not new. TV networks like ID dedicated to true crime shows and documentaries, rogue YouTube uploads before things were more tightly monitored (i.e. Saddam Hussein’s execution as stated by Hilderbrand in the “Clip Canon”), and even unmoderated chatrooms like Omegle back in the day were frequent sites of death pranks.

Lately, it seems like every time a person is killed by the police, people eagerly wait on the body cam footage to be released under the pretense that they wish to decide whether or not the extrajudicial killing of a citizen by the authorities was warranted. I think people are so desensitized, that in reality they are waiting at the chance to watch a citizen get killed by people in power. 

I don’t know when we started commodifying the death of real people and using that to entertain ourselves, but at some point we have to remember that it is still a murder we are witnessing, despite sitting comfortably behind a screen.  

Back in 2018, mega-YouTuber Logan Paul posted a video of him trekking through Aokigahara forest in Japan–a site of frequent suicides. Paul took a video of a hanging body, joked about it, and uploaded the video to his channel. The video was subject to immense backlash, and Paul took it down before issuing an apology. And yet, three years later, he has 23 million YouTube subscribers, a net worth of $19 million, and we all had to hear about his fight against Floyd Mayweather.

It is egregious that Paul still has a platform this big after multiple transgressions, especially the one where he used someone’s unimaginable pain and suffering as a way to build his brand. Of course, Logan Paul, similarly to Armie Hammer, has been absolved because of his positionality and privilege as a rich white male. And because people seek out this genre–true crime, true murder, true “controversy”–whatever it is. 

There is a great difference between a fictional Sherlock Holmes mystery, and watching someone die on camera in real time, and we better catch ourselves forgetting about that difference soon. 

After doing some deeper thinking about the topic of my group’s final project I began to reflect on how encoding and decoding behave in this new age of online entertainment. I mainly focused my efforts on understanding how the decoding process has changed through online discussion, reaction channels, theory channels, etc. In particular, I love watching theory channels on Youtube, it allows me to rewatch old shows/movies through a different lens. However, I find myself decoding the text in different ways than I did the first time around, all of a sudden things have different meanings. Yet at the same time I am aware that I did not formulate that reading on my own, instead this new reading was achieved through influence from someone else’s interpretation of the text.

So where does that put me in the context of decoding? Do I still hold a dominant reading because that is what my individual interpretation of the text is? Or do I hold an oppositional reading of the text because I am choosing to go in a completely different direction with the new ideas I gathered from someone else’s negotiated reading?

The placement of my interpretation becomes really complex when we take into account that I am decoding the text through someone else’s decoding of that same text. The inclusion of this theory channel in my decoding process makes the act of decoding a whole lot more complex. Before watching the video from this channel I held a dominant reading but now my reading has changed as a direct result of the theory channel. I like to think of this as a new type of reading, an influential reading one could say. As the world becomes more distanced from reality and moves onto a virtual platform people are becoming more distanced from each other. The lack of a defined programming structure results in people not watching the same shows at the same time as their friends. This leads to them looking for places to discuss their views, such as online threads, Youtube videos, blogs, and many more. Sometimes this leads to people, like me, who are influenced by the ideas of others and, due to easily accessible media, they are able to rewatch that show with a plethora of new perspectives.

I like to think that this new reading is isolated from the original reading much like secondary, yet unique, reading. At the same time though, I am able to make my own new ideas through this new lens. I like to think about it like borrowing someone’s notes from class, going to class with those notes, and adding on stuff they may have missed or going deeper on certain sections. The main takeaway is, decoding has become a whole lot more complex and is evolving along with television. 

When I think of intertextuality, the main example that comes to mind is the animated comedy shows like South Park, Family Guy, American Dad, etc. The main draw of these shows is that they connect to and make fun of real life events or people. For example, season 24 episode 1 of South Park that deals with the characters going through the COVID-19 pandemic.

Occasionally though these shows will do a sort of parody of other popular franchises. My favorite example of this is the Star Wars family guy specials. On the surface the special might just seem like a straight parody of Star Wars: A New Hope but in reality the intertextuality of the episode draws from other parodies of the same movie. Take Stewie for example, who has a comically large Darth Vader helmet as a nod to another Star Wars parody: SpaceBalls.

Another layer of intertextuality is added with all the references to events that occurred on set of the Star Wars Episode IV. Louis Griffin as Princess Leia exclaims that she is not wearing underwear,  many Star Wars fans are aware that Carrie Fisher did not wear underwear on the set of the movie because George Lucas told her that no one wears underwear in space. It is intertextual connections like this that take the Star Wars special from being a parody to something much more complex. There are several layers of connections present, much deeper than just a straight satirical copy of the events of A New Hope.

Whenever I play a really low budget iPhone game I always get lots of ads for other games that seem really cool but in reality are just as cheap and boring as the game I am currently playing. One of my favorite ads to see is a survival game that is set in the universe of The Walking Dead(TWD). As a fan, I think it is really cool to be able to interact with the TV characters through a virtual environment on my phone. The ad makes sure to mention that you can “team up with Rick and the gang” so it seems like that aspect of the game is very appealing to Walking Dead fans like me. I’ve always wanted to get into these games but I’ve heard from others that they are very time consuming and always incentivize spending money. This got me thinking, how much money does TWD make from video games?

I looked up the numbers but I could find the profit for one game called “Walking Dead: The Game” which made $40 million dollars in its first year of release. An article I read on COMPLEX stated that TWD makes around $8 million on their season premiere episode, which is their highest earning episode every season. If every episode made as much as the premiere episode, then TWD would gain $96 million every year. When comparing this to the one game that makes $40 million a year it seems like a lot more is being earned by the main series show. However, TWD has more than 12 games on the AppStore and plenty of other games on PC, Xbox, Playstation, etc. Even if the other eleven games on the AppStore made half as much money as “Walking Dead: The Game”, it would still be over $260 million which is considerably more than $96 million. Now I ask myself, is TWD really a television series? Or is it just a brand that has expanded its way onto video games, toys, arcades, spin-offs, books, and many more.

As television has evolved as a medium, its production, consumption, and dissemination into broader culture has fundamentally changed. I explore this shift in my final essay through direct formal comparison to contemporary cinema, but that inquiry remains largely focused on aesthetics and differences in consumption. However, after reading Denise Mann’s article: “It’s not TV, it’s Brand Management,” I’ve expanded my analysis to include production and industry culture. 

It’s difficult to say whether changing aesthetic preferences shaped industry structure, or if new business models (namely branding / corporate TV) enabled, or perhaps even necessitated this aesthetic shift. Either way, the end result is a new industry model, a new standard of aesthetics, and a new means of cross-platform “transmedia” engagement. The way TV is produced, the way it looks, and the way it’s consumed has changed drastically in just the past decade.

Starting with aesthetics, there has been a push for more “filmic” television in the past twenty / thirty years. This can perhaps be attributed to shows like Twin Peaks, which was among the first programs to bring cinematic conventions into the realm of television. David Lynch is primarily known for his cinematic work, so it makes sense that his skill set would spill over into television production, but this overlap was largely unprecedented. Later, shows like The Sopranos and The X-Files capitalized on this new aesthetic convergence to much success, and established a demand for this more filmic style of television. Put simply, if there’s money to be made, the added production cost is well worth it. 

However, these shows are still fundamentally different from programs like Lost or Game of Thrones. Even though Lost was largely inspired by The X-Files, their ultimate purpose and end goals don’t overlap. The X-Files was an organic creation – a vision created and fostered by Chris Carter – brought to fruition for its value in and of itself. Lost, on the other hand, is a bit of a corporate “test tube baby,” highly engineered and carefully orchestrated to enable multiple revenue streams and reap a return on investment. That’s not to say that it’s “bad” or somehow less valid than something like The X-Files. In fact, the socioeconomic capital provided by this corporate oversight should make for masterful television, and for the most part it succeeds. 

High budget “branded” television like Lost ushered in a new era of aesthetic and industry standards. With more money on the table, networks could afford to hire the best writers, actors, cinematographers, etc. This should make for a better end product, and ultimately a better viewing experience. However, there are also downsides to this business model. Ultimately, these downsides come down – like any industry – to money.

With the widespread adoption of this business model of fabricated branded television, the industry faces potential problems with sustainability. This can be attributed to two main problems. First, with so much capital invested in a handful of flagship shows, networks have to fill the rest of their air time with cheaper to produce reality and game shows. While this isn’t inherently a bad thing, it provides a barrier to entry for potentially good, but mid-budget shows. To get funded you have to pitch either a cheap reality show, or a massive transmedia franchise TV blockbuster. Secondly, in order to protect their investments in these TV blockbusters, networks cherry pick seasoned professionals with a proven track record. Again this isn’t inherently bad, but it limits opportunities for new talent and younger professionals who might otherwise be of great service to the industry. 

Between these two gripes, there is a clear problem. In a modern network environment dominated by either blockbuster or reality television, there’s a distinct lack of mid-budget young-talent-produced, auteurial work. Lost capitalized on the success of The X-Files, but in its very creation, jeopardized the next generation of organically created shows like those it drew inspiration from. It effectively boxed out these more auteurial works, enabling a business model that prioritizes high-investment with guaranteed return over a multitude of mid-priced but potentially successful shows. 

That’s not to say that this business model doesn’t work – it’s rapid adoption across the industry should be indicative of just how successful it is. However, it is fundamentally flawed, and lacks long term sustainability. Television is ultimately a business, and this era of corporate branded television makes that reality clearer now than perhaps ever before. I just wonder how many promising young writers and potentially groundbreaking shows have been passed up for the sake of comfortable, guaranteed return on investment. 

My final paper focuses on Westworld’s season one finale and how the show presents narrative complexity throughout the season. For the sake of brevity and a focused blog post, I want to explore how the timeframe contributes to the show’s narrative complexity and work out some ideas that I have currently. Merriam-Webster defines analepsis as “a literary technique that involves interruption of the chronological sequence of events by interjection of events or scenes of earlier occurrence.” Rather than a conventionally linear sequence of time in which the narrative takes place, these “interruptions” with other events create multiple paths for the audience to track. Westworld embodies a similar structure in that it jumps around from protagonist to protagonist in each episode as they unravel aspects of the various mysteries inherent to the theme park. The analepsis functions in Westworld through two timelines, which the season finale reveals to the audience mid-way through the episode. The show preserves this secret because they only present as much information as the main characters are aware of in their respective storylines.

For example, the Man in Black (Ed Harris) is a mysterious, old, antagonistic figure who knew more information than the audience did, including the truth about the timeline and details about the multiple lives of the hosts(androids) such as Dolores’ past lives(Evan Rachel Wood). The plot twist involving the analepsis was that Dolores’ storyline was a memory because the Man in Black reveals that her love interest and do-gooder companion throughout the season, William (Jimmi Simpson), was the Man in Black when he was a younger man. The audience realizes from this new information that the show never explicitly defined a timeline and assumed that each event in the story was part of a linear storyline. According to Narrative Complexity in Contemporary American Television, analepsis functions by altering the show’s chronology creates instances of disorientation for the viewer through “a lack of explicit storytelling cues and signposts.” Even in the season finale, Westworld finds a way to add a new element to the story that recontextualizes how the audience watches and understands the show.

Suddenly, the timeline for each of the storylines comes into question, in that the audience is uncertain when each perspective occurred within the overall season chronology. Even the nature of flashbacks, another device under the umbrella of analepsis, becomes unreliable. Dolores unknowingly fabricated her storyline with memories of William from 30 years in the past, when in reality, she was using those memories of locations they visited to retrace her steps in the present day. It is an alarming revelation that the audience cannot trust their lens into the story, which creates uncertainty in how the rest of the episode will unfold. Analepsis as a narrative device through this specific instance creates a unique viewing experience that makes Westworld stand out as a narratively complex series.

Sources (informally cited, sorry)

https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/analepsis

file:///Users/kirafarmer/Downloads/Mittell.Narrative%20Complexity%20in%20Contemporary%20American%20Television%20(3).pdf

If you are here on this blog, I assume that you came here because the title interest you–cause it did for me. To begin with, Gossip Girl: Transmedia Technologies by Lousia Stein (this week’s reading) brought up a lot of interesting points. This reading addressed the issues of digital technology in media and how Gossip Girl uses it in a way for the social elite in NY but also for creativity within the show. One thing that I noticed is that they talked about the dangers of digital power while also talking about the visions of digital transformation in the future. In connection with the main points of this reading, I was able to connect it to real-life situations and also a TV show called 9-1-1. The dichotomy in responses about this issue on TV is very interesting.

The debate of whether social media is toxic or not first occurred to me when I noticed a common theme throughout all of the episodes. Just to give you some context, 9-1-1 is a procedural show that showcases the lives of LA’s finest firefighters/first responders and how they deal with everyday calls along with bringing us in on their personal lives. Every episode starts off with a scene before an accident happens and it proceeds with a call being answered by a dispatcher. While the firefighters are arriving on the scene, there are people who are recording the accident– LITERALLY… IN EVERY EPISODE. For example, there was one episode where a bouncing house was floating in the air after it was loosened from the nail on the ground and a group of people from the party started recording. As people were recording, there was a small group of people who were assigning people tasks in order to help, but everybody was more interested in getting their footage.

I find these scenes interesting because it seems as if the writers wanted the viewers to understand how dangerous social media could be at times. After a few episodes of silence on the matter, the writers finally addressed it in Season 2 Episode 1 where a group of YouTubers thought it was a great idea to stick their friend’s head into a microwave fill with cement. After the friends realized what they did, we would think that they would have learned their lesson. But as the firefighter got the guy’s head out, they started recording again for their Youtube video. The Captain acted out of annoyance and threw the guy’s phone in the water. After the scene, the firefighters talk amongst themselves about the effect that digital technology has on society.

The dichotomy in responses about this issue on TV is very interesting. As the 2000s baby myself, I see how it is affecting us. However, I think there are ways that it helps us too. There have been times where recorded footage actually exposes the craziness that goes on behind closed doors. For example, the recent George Floyd case. We had video footage of what the police officer did to him. Without that, nobody would have known the true events that went on that day. Another episode in 9-1-1 featured social media being helpful instead of harmful. It was when the power in the call center went out and people were forced to use hashtags on social media in order to reach out for help. Overall, Social media should be used as a source of entertainment and of course community building. But it should not go to the point where we are neglecting each other for a virtual world experience.

A couple weeks ago I was having a discussion in my Multicultural Education class about the first times we ever thought about our gender identity. Strikingly, about 1/3 of the class made some mention towards children’s television programming influencing their behavior from an early age. Whether we like it or not, children’s television programming sets many of the standards for how our society is formed, introducing norms to children at an early age when they are still trying to figure out how the world works and how they should act. Because of this, it is crucial for these programs to be progressive in how they display our societies norms (specifically gender norms). Unfortunately, this is not the case. Even today, children’s shows are showing the same problematic scenarios that were around in our childhoods.

In the widely popular show Paw Patrol, a show about a group of rescue dogs, only 1 out of the 6 main characters is female. The show does have a female mayor but she is constantly portrayed as dumb and inept. An article published on refinery29 says that one of the most problematic stereotypes depicted in the show is that “men are expected to have a certain amount of aggressiveness,” allowing kids to accept more anger in boys. Seeing violence and aggression as a normal male trait likely leads to the socialization of this trait in kids, as they come to see it as acceptable.

In the show Mickey Mouse and the Roadster Racers, many of these same problematic scenarios occur. Throughout the show Minnie and Daisy, the two main female characters, find themselves all too often in the caregiver roles. They are often given the roles of petsitters, cleaners, cake bakers, etc. This helps reinforce the problematic gender stereotypes that we are actively trying to move away from as a society. Without the ability to think critically on these programs, kids will perceive these depictions as a truth about society: women are meant to be in the caregiver role. This is extremely problematic!

Even the commercials on these children’s networks play a role in depicting problematic gender norms. Kids are being told through subliminal messaging what they should like, how they should dress, how they should act, etc. It’s not just the message that girls should play with dolls and boys should play with Hotwheels, these commercials are influencing kid’s entire behavior and identity. In order to make the change that we want as a society, we must start with a ground-up approach in children’s programming. If not, we will see the same problematic media influencing our kids in the future.

Television provides its viewers with a form of escapism from the real, sometimes by way of introducing them to a new real. That’s right, I’m talking about reality TV. As part of our research for our final project, my group agreed to watch an episode or two of The Circle on Netflix. I, however, watched the first season within a week. I’ve always been a reality TV naysayer, but something about The Circle had me hooked and I’m trying to figure out just what exactly this thing is. 

On The Circle, contestants cannot see or hear each other, but communicate via a faux social media platform, ranking each other each night. Ultimately, one player gets blocked, aka sent home, until there are only a handful left. Maybe it is because of the pandemic, or maybe it is just because this is just what communication looks like these days, but I found this to be a surprisingly relatable show…to some extent.

After watching a few episodes one night, I (finally) turned off my laptop and picked up my phone to respond to my friends’ texts. While I was typing, I noticed that I was doing so with the mindset of being on The Circle. At first I was concerned and slightly horrified by this, but now I’m not so sure if my caution was a bad thing. Gray makes the point that we are living in a textual world (3). Our phones give us direct access to these texts, a level of accessibility that enables us to go through our days without actually considering the hidden messages media sends to us via Instagram, Twitter, and the news, let alone our interaction with these texts via our own actions. 

When I was replying to my friend, I was very aware of the text that I was sending and how the message/intended tone was going to impact the receiver’s perception of me. The Circle 100% stimulated this response from me which supports Gray’s first form of intertextuality: influence. Influence, he argues, is a one-way interaction where texts affect us to the point that our future actions will be influenced by the original text (4). For me, watching The Circle altered my perception of social media and how I use it in my personal life, but I cannot use that lens to analyze The Circle itself. Despite The Circle’s access to my home and life via Netflix, it will always remain a distant, intangible thing.

Johnathan Gray wrote in “Intertextuality and The Study of Texts” that “Intertextuality theory provocatively asks us to what degree a text as entity can exist outside of itself as a physical object and live through other texts. The 2006 movie musical, High School Musical, is arguably Disney Channel’s most popular movie and with such a large fanbase means the movie has existed and been referenced in several Disney Channel shows like The Suite Life of Zack and Cody. Then in 2019, the degree that this entity could exist was pushed and taken to a whole new level when a show was made on Disney+ based on the movie called High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (HSMTMTS).

No, it’s not a cheesy reboot. It’s a series with a lot of intertextuality. The school where High School Musical was filmed is actually a real school in Salt Lake City, so the series is a mockumentary about the real East High’s drama department putting on High School Musical for their seasonal production. The casts cover songs from the film and the last episode of season one is the opening night of the show. The series may seem like a copy of the movie, but the show has its own storyline, characters, love triangles, and songs. The film is referenced and intertwined with the theater kid’s lives, but overall, HSMTMTS is its own entity outside of High School Musical. To separate itself from the film, each episode has two songs: 1) a cover from High School Musical and 2) an original song. For example, in the sixth episode of season one “What Team?,” the drama teacher is on leave when the school board makes accusations about her teaching credentials. Carlos, the student choreographer, has to take over rehearsal for the day. The students argue over the High School Musical scene where Gabriella sings “When There Was Me and You” and how to bring the film scene to the stage. Ricky covers the song to show another character how he thinks the performance should be done on stage. Later in the episode, everyone finds out about the drama teacher potentially losing her job, and they show up to the hearing and sing an original song called “Truth, Justice, and Songs In Our Key.”

This episode is a great example of why HSMTMTS is an example of intertextuality and not a reboot. The show has its own storyline, but incorporates the text of High School Musical into its plot. As Gray would say, the film “lives through” the series. The second season shows the drama club producing Beauty and The Beast (which makes the title of the show confusing), so now instead of a season with intertextuality of High School Musical, its Beauty and The Beast songs that will be covered and references that will be made.