Core Post – Sabrina Sonner

 Dyer’s analysis of the ambiguity in the myth of the American dream was particularly insightful. He writes, “the myth of success is grounded in the belief that the class system, the old-boy network, does not apply to America. However, one of the myth’s ambiguities is whether success is possible for anyone, regardless of talent or application” (42). The system must both seem to reward the special qualities in an individual, while also making it seem as if this star could be anyone. Dyer goes on and applies this to The Jolson Story, which tells the story of an “ordinary man from an ordinary Jewish family,” with nothing remarkable except for his beautiful voice and professionalism. Dyer uses this example to show the way the myth perpetuated involves an amount of luck (Jolson is in the right place to replace another performer) and talent while ignoring the machinery of the agents and producers of show business.

While I found Dyer’s application of this concept to this film apt and helpful for underscoring the points he made about the tricky nature of the origins of a star as it relates to American values, I was frustrated that he didn’t apply these concepts to any actual stars in this section. From my somewhat limited knowledge of classic Hollywood stars, though, it seems to apply to them. One of the things that emphasizes the mythic quality of James Dean is his background, born in a small town in Indian and not being drawn to acting until moving to Los Angeles. He was also thought to be a hardworking actor, always observing people to learn life-like mannerisms. However, ultimately the decisions behind casting him likely related as much to his abilities and his story as they did to his marketability as a star. Generally, classic stars seem to have this sort of dedication or talent, some quality that draws us to them outside of their existences as normal people. You rarely hear of stardom being passed from parent to child, though fame might follow this lineage through this old sort of system of power transference. But you also really hear about the practical decisions that go into casting stars and crafting their images.

This also seems to apply to stars in the modern age. We’ve talked in class about YouTube “stars;” these people usually broadcast from their own, unextraordinary homes. This, incidentally, seems quite different from the way that Dyer has described older stardom, about people with extravagant rich lives who still appear ordinary, though is probably most specifically applicable to modern YouTube stars than to all modern stars. Generally, though, YouTube stars are seen as having a mix of talent or charm that attracts us to them, luck in the unpredictability that leads to a viral number of views, and the dedication to self-publish new videos at least weekly. Today’s film stars often have similar on-screen talents and ordinary backgrounds as their classic counterparts. The practical reasons that go into their stardom are usually not cited as the source of their success, though I do see articles here and there about the way that so-and-so was cast because of their star name.

Ultimately, this ambiguity to the factors contributing to the success of stars seems necessary for them to function as a social value. After all, if it specifically only required luck to be a star, why would we value them? And if you only needed talent, then anyone who deemed themself more talented than a star would be frustrated and cease to see them as stars. If it just required hard work, then every blue-collar American should be a star by now. The uncertain blend of the qualities allows the system to reward American values and seem reachable, without creating discontent towards that which we are meant to idolize.