Josie Andrews Supplemental Blog Post #7 Celebrity Politicians

 Josie Andrews Supplemental Blog Post #7: Celebrity Politicians

This past week, I have been following the New York governor’s race since Cuomo supporter and former City Council speaker Christine Quinn denounced Cynthia Nixon’s (Sex in the City) decision to run for governor, telling the national press that Nixon is “an unqualified lesbian” who wants to the governor of New York. Nixon quipped in response: “When I announced yesterday that I’m running for gov, one of Cuomo’s top surrogates dismissed me as an ‘unqualified lesbian.’ It’s true that I never received my certificate from the Department of Lesbian Affairs, though in my defense there’s a lot of paperwork required.” Putting aside the stupidity of this comment, this made me think about celebrity politicians (our current President included), who use their celebrity status to speak as a surrogate of “popular opinion” on various public causes and groups.

We have seen celebrity politicking in everything from the Vietnam War to gun control to police brutality to sex trafficking to the recent “me too” campaign. Every presidential national convention prominently features celebrities on both sides of the aisle. Celebrities often link their image and popularity to a certain politician. For example, Oprah Winfrey gave a relatively unknown Senator—Barack Obama—a platform to meaningfully raise money and become president. Winfrey is one of the most influential women in the world and her endorsement of Obama in 2006 before he even announced his candidacy was a critical component of his election. Not surprisingly, there are a number of studies addressing what Winfrey’s endorsement meant for Obama—with many claiming that Winfrey brought at least one million votes to Obama in the primary and, without Winfrey, Obama would have lost the primary.  Jane Fonda, Ashton Kutcher and many other celebrities often testify before Congress and are known political activists. Others hold benefit concerts to support causes, like the victims of shootings or AIDS. 

Other politicians actually try to capitalize on the marketing techniques of celebrities to garner public favor—Bill Clinton played his saxophone on the Arsenio Hall Show. Michelle Obama did carpool karaoke and danced with the iCarly kids. Hillary Clinton and many other celebrities have appeared on Saturday Night Live and many talk shows.  And, perhaps most significantly, celebrities like Cynthia Nixon have used their status and popularity to successfully run for office themselves—Ronald Reagan, Clint Eastwood, Sonny Bono, Clint Eastwood, and Arnold Schwarzenegger (Terminator) and even Donald Trump come immediately to mind. And, Oprah Winfrey and Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson are both being encouraged to throw their hats in the next presidential race.

 

Why do we give political legitimacy and credibility to celebrities who have no governmental experience or often basic governmental affairs knowledge or skills? My two cents arm chair political analysis is that—despite their wealth and surreal existence compared to virtually all Americans—celebrities are often seen as people just like us. This makes them more authentic than politicians who are riddled with scandal or constantly demonized by the press and public with scandals of a few coloring public perception and trust in our elected officials.  Celebrities appeal to our ideals of government being truly “representative” and an outsider. They appear to be more in touch with popular public opinion--a link between performer and audience which we have discussed in class is part of the appeal of fandom. And, they have instant access to millions of people through social media.

Believing that what has been the “norm” is not working, we embrace those who are not seen as part of the insider “DC beltway” or “political world” mentality. Of course, the problem with electing celebrity individuals—as we can see with Donald Trump—is that they are only “symbolic” popular cultural representatives of Americans. In other words, they are more often simply consummate performers, who can easily convince us that—despite their money and star status—they are like those of us who believe they have been forgotten by traditional government. The result is that we end up with a “reality TV” star in the White House, conducting affairs for the benefit of the tweeter world.

While I do believe there are some really bright celebrities who have been or could be excellent governmental representatives (thinking of Tom Hanks, in particular), I am not convinced that their celebrity status necessarily provides a legitimate basis for representation.  Instead, I think we need to be more critical in determining who is and is not appropriately representative of our governmental goals and needs.

Supplemental Post #3 - Michael Luisi

This week in television maybe the most important of the 52 as it marks the return of two major hit shows in Silicon Valley on HBO and Billions on Showtime. The two shows have been highly successful in their own respective rights, but both face different issues in their upcoming seasons.

The most obvious one is Silicon Valley, the show is forced to try and attain the same level in success in its 5th season with out heavy hitter comic T.J. Miller, as he looks to move onto bigger projects as he felt he was too great for Silicon Valley. Unfortunately the character of Erlich Bachman was such a unique character and loved character that many were heartbroken upon his exit in last season so there has been a fair amount of doubt that it can sustain its prior success. The first episode, its clear his presence is drastically missed as the show has less variety when it comes to actors, it seems like almost every joke is geared towards the tech side rather than hitting broad strokes. The plot lines seem rather promising so hopefully, Silicon Valley can once again find its stride this season.

Billions on the other hand, has similar expectations to Silicon Valley being a hit show. However unlike Silicon Valley, Billions followed its inaugural season, with an even more impressive one last  year so the expectations are through the roof. The show looks to have picked off from last seasons cliff hanger of who will blink first between Damian Lewis' character (Bobby Axelrod) and Paul Giamatti's (Chuck Rhoades). The two have done a fantastic job playing the cat and mouse game, but it looks as if this season will amount to more than just a staring contest. The two are clearly focused on taking one and other out and will be interesting to see if Axelrod can bully the U.S. government with his money, or is Rhoades can find a way to spin foul play. The first episode delivered in terms of the high expectations that were set last year, so hopefully it can continue its upward trend!

Supplemental Post 4 - Tucker Rayl

On Sunday I watched Anderson Cooper's interview with Stormy Daniels on 60 Minutes, helping it become the most watched episode of the show in over 10 years. You're welcome, CBS. What I found really fascinating about the interview is that Stormy didn't seem to have any motive behind the interview besides taking control of the story and her own image. Now that everyone pretty much knows about her affair with Trump, NDA withstanding or not, she hasn't had an opportunity to input her voice into the ether.

The story Stormy laid out in the interview was not all that revelatory, given nearly all the information she shared was already widely known (besides Trump's obsession with Shark Week and that he responds well to being spanked). Their relationship only spanned three in-person meetings.

But Stormy's goal in sitting down to be interviewed by Cooper seemed to be image control. I think she is seen as either a victim of Trump's sexual misconduct, or that she is a money-hungry attention seeker. Throughout the interview she referenced the fact that she wasn't a victim - she consented to everything (although it seemed that Trump used his status to coerce her). She repeated that she didn't want to ever sell her story because of how it would affect her child. But now that everything is out there anyway, she's out to set the record straight.

Stormy seemed like a woman who feels all alone, that no one understands her point of view on the affair, and that she sees everyone trying to exploit her. In my favorite moment of the interview, Cooper asked "have you gained anything from telling your story?" And Stormy responded absolutely not - 60 Minutes didn't even buy her breakfast.

Core Post 3 - Tucker Rayl

Growing up, before I was even aware of Michael Jackson as an artist, I was well aware of him as a star. In the early 2000's, he had evolved into his final form: long black hair, pale skin, oddly sculpted face, and a boyish coyness that was both off-putting and fascinating. I remember making my dad explain to me who this figure was because I was so confused why he would be treated with reverence but also be maligned and placed in the category of 'other.' Now that I am much more aware of Jackson's life, work, and celebrity, I think his legendary star-power and idiosyncratic image speak to popular American culture's conflicting feelings about race, sexuality, and the value of youth.

For this post, I want to focus on Michael Jackson's Peter Pan syndrome because that has always fascinated me most about him. I think Jackson's refusal to grow up has been popularly traced to the abuse he faced as a child star. His father, Joe Jackson, infamously physically and emotionally abused his children. He has admitted to beating Michael and calling him "ugly" and "big-nosed." The pressure he placed on Michael to be a success from a young age is also thought to have made him chase his lost childhood during his adulthood.

Jackson surgically altered his face to achieve a slimmer, "whiter" nose and face shape; he seemingly had body dysmorphia. He refused to talk about his sex life, leading to all sorts of rumors about his sexuality. Kobana Mercer writes in her essay "Monster Metaphors: Notes on Michael Jackson’s Thriller" that "The media have seized upon these [racial and sexual] ambiguities and have fabricated a ‘persona’, a private ‘self’ behind the image, which has become the subject of speculation and rumour. This mythologisation has culminated in the construction of a Peter Pan figure." The media turned the way Jackson coped with his abuse into a major part of his image, which turned it into an asset for him.

Core Post 4 - Hana Lee

As we delve into a more inclusive, diverse age of media production and consumption, it is important to dissect and further understand where we came from and how we got to where we are today. One of the individuals who paved the path for Black stars was Paul Robeson, who is known today for his work in The Emperor Jones and Show Boat. While starring in these programs, Roberson “played or was associated with the heroes of Black culture” according to Dyer, but “he also played the stereotype of the white imagination”. Assumably due to the great lack of representation throughout each step of the production process. Starting from the writers room, there needs to be diversity within the staff in order to ensure everyone is represented in race,gender, sexuality, etc… And beyond this, people of all different backgrounds need to be represented from one team to the next because without this, society reflects exactly what Dyer criticizes: stereotypes from the white perspective. One star who comes to mind for me when we speak about Black masculinity is Terry Crews because he breaks many of the stereotypes typically assigned to Black stars.

With the conversation surrounding the #MeToo movement, we have seen many brave individuals come forward with their stories, and Terry Crews’s story was an impactful one.

http://abcn.ws/2ij1Ufg

In his segment on Good Morning America, Crews highlights his experience at a Hollywood event. During his segment, he speaks about how “ If [he] would have just retaliated in defense [he] would be under jail right now. That's one thing [he] knew being a large African-American man in America, [he] would immediately be seen as a thug but [he’s] not a thug”. Terry’s account reflects how Black men, especially those who maintain a built physique, have been typically portrayed by the stories built through a white lens. He demonstrates how much power and influence even one individual can make in a multitude of industries. The entertainment industry is one industry that needs to be particularly given attention because we have seen how important representation is for our younger generations.

One such example comes from Marvel's Black Panther which has sparked conversation around representation for Black actors. Through each and every milestone the film has made, the fact that Black Panther has now become the most Tweeted about film on the medium and beyond that, has begun conversation around the strong women in the film. Identifying as a female, I think that this film does as much for females as it does for the Black community.

Roberson and Crews are two figures who have done an immense amount in pushing the boundaries of representation further. As we talk about how important representation and more importantly, inclusion are within our society, I hope this cognitive movement actually translates into actual production and action.

Core Post 3 - Lauren Sullivan

I found both readings’ discussions of “crossing over” quite interesting. While Dyer details the societal structures in place and the ways in which Paul Roberson navigated those structures to cross over to widespread popularity among white audiences, I would like to focus on the ways that Michael Jackson’s star image does and does “cross over,” as discussed by Kobena Mercer in “Monster Metaphors.” For Mercer, Jackson is not so much a cross-over star but one that navigates between social distinctions: “[n]either child nor man, not clearly either black or white and with an androgynous image that is neither masculine nor feminine, Jackson’s star- image is a ‘social hieroglyph’” (307). Mercer claims that musically, Jackson does not cross-over from black to white, and rather lands somewhere in the middle by popularizing “black music in white rock and pop markets, by actually playing with imagery and style which have always been central to the marketing of pop” (308). Jackson’s image of moving between distinctions of race, gender, age, and sexuality results in ambiguity that ties interestingly with Jackson’s professed love for acting. Jackson expresses a fascination to become someone or something else by believing, and then embodying, it (309). This, paired with Jackson’s reluctancy to set rumors about his personal life straight (307), favor a sort of ambiguity and fluidity that highlights the performative nature of social distinctions. According to Mercer, this has a sort of liberating quality. Because Jackson’s music exists within the “Afro-American tradition of popular music,” his persona is in dialogue with “imagery of black men and black male sexuality” (320). Thus, his androgyny challenges stereotypes of black masculinity and expands the “types” of black men represented in media (320). Michael Jackson’s persona of vague ambiguity draws the desire for audiences to decode him, and his refusal to be categorized or broken down offers a more liberated alternative outside of mainstream norms. His unmatched popularity suggests that this appeals to people, despite, if not because of, the way that Jackson deviates from widespread societal constraints and expectations within American culture. 

Supplemental Post #5 - Megan Henckel

     For the past week I’ve been ruminating over Here I Stand (1999) and the incredible life of Paul Robeson. As a public figure and essentially the first bonafide African American star, Robeson carved out a space for successful African Americans during the early 20th century. There is no doubt that his contributions to music, theater, cinema, (the list goes on and on) contributed to cultural movements of his time and have had a lasting impact on generations of people across the world, both black and white. Paul Robeson was never a name I knew well until I learned of him during a class taken here at USC. A few semesters ago I took a history class on black social movements in the U.S. that chronicled black history from the 17th century to the present. The class explored specific periods throughout that history and how they directly correspond to social movements towards equality, and more interestingly, result in cultural shifts and movements that empowered generations of African Americans while emphasizing the significance of black culture. Paul Robeson was studied as we began a dive into the early twentieth century cultural dynamics, the Harlem Renaissance and eventually, Robeson’s important role in the political landscape during the 30’s and onward. As Here I Stand explains, Robeson adhered to socialist ideologies and politics during a period in American history where socialism was equated to evil totalitarian regimes and a complete lack of individual freedom. Sadly for his beliefs, he was vilified, disregarded, and eventually exiled from America. The once prolific Paul Robeson, and his star image of representing the ideal black man, soon became connected with radicalism and a complete betrayal of American democracy and freedom.
     What has always been simultaneously fascinating and heartbreaking about such a case is that for someone who was considered to betray American ideals, especially during and post WWII when American democracy was being threatened by opposing political structures, Paul Robeson was only ever searching for a way to resolve the inherent racism and discrimination so present in America. His reason for believing in socialism so deeply was that he felt it was the primary method of expunging discrimination if it was applied in the United States because he saw no resentment or racial animosity towards blacks in socialist societies. He was a strong fighter for justice and civil rights across the world and truly believed in equality for all, including everyone from workers to racial minorities. Yet, the minute he was associated with socialism or anything that was considered un-American at the time, he was instantly cast out and resigned from his once popular status Despite being a staunch anti-fascist and a supporter of the American war effort as well as Allied forces, Robeson was targeted for beliefs that many in America deemed as a threat to American Democracy. 
     I don’t necessarily think that socialism was the solution to America’s deep seated racism as Robeson thought but I can imagine that as a black man who grew up during some of America’s most tarnished history with regards to racial inequality and hate, seeing society where this was absent must have been appealing.To me, it is interesting how Robeson’s political beliefs and his quest for justice were so misconstrued by the American public. His strides towards equality, the way he broke racial barriers, the way he captured the hearts of the American public during his career didn’t altogether disappear but they were most certainly tainted by his political connections and his Russian allegiances. I think it’s both interesting and useful to examine the ways in which our societal tendencies and beliefs, in this instance McCarthyism and HUAC, directly connect with star images and the audience’s perceptions and understandings of that persona. I wonder who today’s equivalent of Paul Robeson (in terms of his political ideologies) would be? Possibly Tom Hanks supporting North Korea’s totalitarian regime or Oprah Winfrey siding with the Assad regime of Syria? It makes me wonder what would have become of Robeson if he hadn’t of been associated with socialism, the Soviet Union, and the negative connotations. I hope that more people would have known the name of Paul Robeson and that his presence, within the entertainment industry, politics, and civil rights, would have been at the forefront of the conversation rather than his perceived “radical” or negative political views. 

Core Post # 4 - Megan Henckel

After completing Dyer’s chapter on Paul Robeson, I am intrigued by Dyer’s exploration into the symbiotic relationship of black and white identity present in Robeson’s image and how such interconnected opposites function together to create a persona of the acceptable, ideal, black star. Dyer explains that Robeson was considered “the epitome of what black people are like” (68) because he satisfied white stereotypes and values while simultaneously being revered by black audiences who viewed him as one who proved African Americans could achieve the same prestige as any white person. Robeson identified as a black individual while doing so within the parameters of a white society, thus establishing a tension between blackness and whiteness. He was constantly resting in the tension of blackness and whiteness and such a relationship is visible not only in the roles he played, but in how he was received by audiences thus informing his universal appeal. Dyer describes how Robeson’s black folk qualities were an example of such tension as they, like Robeson himself, were superficially displaying authentic black culture but in reality were actually a construction of the white imagination and how they created a different interpretation of black folk culture. For example, the song “Old Man River” from Showboat is considered by Dyer to be “the ultimate white spiritual. . . though it is not a spiritual at all” (83). The film depicts a tired Joe singing about the struggles of his race in the typical negro spiritual style that many would typical associate with such feelings about race. The song, however, was not an actual spiritual gleaned from the historic past of black slavery and oppression, but rather it was a song created to suit Robeson’s voice that represented elements commonly heard by white people within spirituals: suffering, melancholy, and despair. Thus it seems as though the song, which was created for a show that encompassed elements of 19th century racism and post- reconstruction era racial tensions, was inadvertently balancing black/white as it was white understanding of history disguised as a negro spiritual.
Dyer makes a poignant statement when he says “to many observers moments and images show Robeson as a white man’s nigger, sacrificing his specifically black cultural heritage to the codes and conventions of white culture” (103). I think what Dyer brings to light in such examples throughout the reading, whether in Robeson’s black folk, atavism, sexuality, etc, is that Paul Robeson’s status as the epitome of the acceptable black man was fueled by the fact that he was able to satisfy the rules and desires of both blackness and whiteness. Whether in roles where he was playing “black character” (such as the African native) based on the white definitions or living in the white man’s world by adopting its clothes, hobbies and practices (for example American football or the white house in Connecticut) Paul Robeson was appealing to discourses that were acceptable to both blacks and whites, always balancing tension between the two while revealing the way they function together to fuel his success.

Supplemental Post 6 - Clayton Vozzella

Over the weekend I participated in a photo shoot that aims to capture different notions and expressions of femininity. One of my closest friends Javier, who works in makeup, did my makeup professionally for the photo shoot. The makeup was inspired by--you guessed it--Beyoncé. I was then photographed in various poses. For the first round of shots, I was wearing just a sweater and underwear, and then just my underwear.

I have wanted to pose basically nude for some time now. I want to make strides toward loving myself and my body. And I can honestly say that before that photo shoot I had never felt so confident and sexy before in my life. Just to be the center of attention and chosen to be celebrated was an incredible feeling (and why I believe so strongly in the power of representation).

The makeup looked so unbelievably beautiful. I felt so powerful. I was able to get right into posing. For me, expressing my femininity is so connected to feeling empowered, and Beyoncé empowers me like no one else can. So I wanted to embody her as my muse for this photo shoot.

People always criticize me for my obsession with Beyoncé. They think I'm ridiculous for worshipping another person or they don't believe in the concept of celebrity. But she makes me feel powerful and confident every day, and that is a beautiful thing, especially in a world designed to make us hate ourselves. So don't rain on my parade. Let me live my life. Let me slay!

Core Post #5 - Cailin O'Brien

While Jackson poses an interestingly ambiguous profile of himself for the public to interpret, I found Dyer’s discussion of Robeson most intriguing this week. After watching Show Boat in class I had not caught on to half of the more obvious white narrative aspects that occurred throughout the film. While watching I was happy to see acknowledgement of African American struggles in US history which hadn’t necessarily been addressed in this time, but as Dyer goes into detail about, we are not actually being presented with the realizations slavery & oppression, but instead by a feeling of universal or general suffering one African Americans part. Rather than directly express the cruelties & realities of what African Americans went through during slavery, and acknowledge ripping these people from their homeland, it is easier for white writers to look at the surface layer of it all; black suffering within America. It is almost as if we forget that African Americans were taken from Africa and forced over seas. It is not just the oppression that African Americans struggle with, but the desire to escape from their current position and return home where they can live as they please. One last thing I would like to mention in this vein is how Dyer states white people use “the humble patience of the negro race” as a way to explain how African Americans have fallen as vulnerable victims to oppression (page 82). They leave out the idea that these same people were dragged across the ocean into this oppression; it did not naturally come across them.   

       Also interesting to me was the notion of black people being primitive in nature as opposed to their civilized white counterparts. We can see this idea of primacy for instance in the dance scene in Show Boat where Magnolia is being taught a hip popping shoulder throwing dance number by all of the African American workers around the kitchen. What is even more intriguing about this scene is the way that in comparison to the other African Americans Robeson’s character, Tom, is not engaging as enthusiastically in this song & dance number. Dyer mentions this disengagement on Robeson’s edge from the “animalistic” dancing scene in Heavenly Bodies saying that “he refuses the coon style performance, and is left with the purity and simplicity of mere presence” (pg. 124). Dyer discusses the importance of stillness within this moment on Robeson’s part, as well as his still acting demeanor in general. Keeping Robeson still within the moment seems to estrange him from the rest of the African American characters; he is not as much of a threat to whites in this way because he doesn’t completely embody what they would stereotype African Americans to behave like. While upsetting to realize, it is necessary to acknowledge these discrepancies between white and black portrayal of what it was and still is like to be an African American in American society. While putting into light some of the hardships blacks had to go through, these films and scenes that Robeson was involved in allowed white viewers to leave with a feeling of acknowledgment of black's suffering but no acceptance of blame for it really. 

Core Post 4 - Clayton Vozzella

Kobena Mercer delves into the success of Michael Jackson as an essentially gender, racial, and sexually ambiguous superstar in her piece “Monster Metaphors: Notes on Michael Jackson’s Thriller.” As I read this, I thought a lot about society’s binaries, and how some people are able to break these expectations and still be incredibly successful. Jackson defied a lot of expectations: racially ambiguous, sexually ambiguous, and not clearly pubescent. Mercer writes, “ Neither child nor man, not clearly either black or white and with an androgynous image that is neither masculine or feminine, Jackson’s star-image is a ‘social hieroglyph,’ as Marx said of the commodity form, which demands, yet defies, decoding” (302). Jackson is virtually an “identity-less” amoeba who is uneasily classified.

            What I find even more fascinating about Jackson’s success is his racial identity. Though he altered his skin to pass as white later in life, he rose to stardom while still identifiably black. His famous family members “remains” black, and thus we cannot forget that he is undeniably black. Coincidentally, we just finished talking about O. J. Simpson in Race, Class, and Gender in American Film, and one of our main topics was O. J.’s ability to distance himself from blackness, and for all intents and purposes, embodied whiteness, and was embraced as “white” by the American people.

It’s difficult enough for white men to bend gender, so for Jackson as a “black” man to accomplish this task is even more spectacular. “Jackson not only questions dominant stereotypes of black masculinity, but also gracefully steps outside the existing range of ‘types’ of black men” (Mercer 314). For a man who is largely expected to conform to traditional ideas of race and masculinity, it becomes even more incredible that he can transcend these and be as successful as he was. It begs the questions why and how? Culture must have ebbs and flows that at different times allow for different gender and racial expressions. He simultaneously embraces gender and sexual fluidity while rejecting his racial identity and embodying whiteness. And yet, he is one of the most successful, famous, and lucrative artists in the history of pop music. Perhaps authenticity and genuine talent prevailed over punishment for rejecting society’s binaries.

Lastly, what makes Jackson’s success even more fascinating is his refusal to put rumors to rest. Shirley Brooks, one of Jackson’s business associates, says: “He doesn’t and won’t make public statements about his sex life, because he believes – and he is right – that is none of anyone else’s business” (302). Usually when a celebrity is subject to rumors, especially their sex life and/or sexual orientation, they quickly put to rest these potentially false claims. Jackson was able to not only break the rules but also not apologize for breaking them, which made it even more astounding that he succeeded the way that he did. His fame almost feels entirely inexplicable.

Core Post #5 - Vittoria Rizzardi Penalosa

Being a very big fan of Jane Fonda, I focus on Dyer's textbook for this blog post and his very detailed analysis of Jane Fonda persona, which was, as he claims, built upon her father's reputation, her acting, and her strong radical politics.

Dyer argues that at the beginning of her career, Jane Fonda was always referred to in relation to her father, who was an undeniable Hollywood royalty.  All newspapers, especially the Times, spoke of her as a “second generation-Fonda with a smile her father’s and legs like a chorus girl.” This definition and this box she was placed in, dictated most of the roles she was offered and especially how she was painted on several movie posters. That was the tool that most of the publicity promoted a movie she was starring in. This constriction within her persona only started to slacken after her movie “They shoot horses, don’t they” (1969) and her ferocious entering into radical politics. After this moment, she was still occasionally correlated with her father but not in quite the same defining way as before. This was, in fact, inevitable to a certain extent, as Jane and her father carried two fundamental connotations, which were their compelling Americanness and their left-wing liberalism. Her father completely embodied for an entire nation who was looking up to him, those important qualities that are “American, middle class, and good (Rolling Stone, 9 March 1978)” around which Jane grew up in. Thus, this notion of All-Americanness was directly reproduced upon Jane Fonda’s physical similarities to her father as well as other elements in her personal life and acting career. The fact that she was brought up on a farm or that she attended one of the most notorious all-female colleges in the United States. She was labeled by the public itself as an iconic image of American normalcy, being “the majorette.” Dyer argues that “this deliberate Americanness has been an important element in her later career, which, with its French sex films and radical politics, has in substance been the antithesis of all-Americanness.” It is safe to say, Jane’s relation to her father was built upon the inheritance of physical, cultural, and political traits. This is how critics saw and defined her. But the notion of Jane Fonda constantly striving to negotiate this aspect of her life was extremely central to her image. The cause of this phenomenon in her life was partly because of her fame, but mostly due to the “spread of Freudian ideas of America endowing the image of father/daughter relationships with a greater charge than their mother/daughter equivalent.” Thus, the unhealthy psychological aspect of Jane’s relationship with her father led her to constantly search for father figures in her life and career.

As I mentioned before, her physical appearance and her sex appeal were the main elements that publicity used to sell movies she was starring in. However, this was also acting against her, as, whenever she was involved in a political discussion, newspapers would introduce her as “Jane: the battling beauty who is preaching revolution” or “Hollywood, friendzdiely searching for its own backbone, might well study the philosophy of Jane Fonda. Studying the anatomy would be no hardship either.” She was fighting the contradiction of her plane beauty but passionate attractiveness. It was indeed quite hurtful how crudely her sex appeal was constructed most of the time in her career. This was alimented by her relationship with director Vladim, who contributed in intensifying the sex element in Fonda’s persona, but also complicated it and alimented the negative news about her. This was also due to her statements when she claimed that he managed to liberate her through his movies. However, their openness about their private sexuality managed to shut the media up to a certain extent, as it couldn’t be seen as sexual objectification anymore. She was genuinely and simply coming to terms with her very discussed sexuality. In addition, because this happened in Europe, it gave the idea of liberation a certain credibility, which, Dyer states, “this belonged to a familiar cultural syndrome.” Her political radicalism that brought her to do things like, taking part in the occupation of Alcatraz, or her association with the Huey Newton of the black panthers, her anti-Vietnam War work in GI coffee-houses in which she was also arrested, and her strong feminism. Despite all of this, the public and media still wouldn’t take her seriously, saying “her dangerous political fling, may well deprive her of that Oscar accolade tomorrow night” or “she’s the instant cause girl, working for the right causes for what I think are the wrong reasons. She won’t be satisfied until they burn her like Joan of Arc.”

From last class screenings, it is safe to say political involvement very much defined one’s career for actors. In “Paul Robeson: Here I Stand” documentary, it is shown how his political stands had a direct effect on his career. After he reached the pinnacle of success in 1930s, he started speaking out against America’s racism and declared his support for the USSR as an antidote to fascism and imperialism. However, because of this, he was put under surveillance by the FBI, was blacklisted across the country, and was denied a passport by the State Department. The documentary, in fact, showed, the price he had to pay in his career as an actor for being also a spokesperson for black liberation.  His passion for acting very much clashed with his ardent attempt to remain true to his principles, as the acting opportunities offered to him at that time were mostly against what he passionately stand for.

In relation to this, “Show Boat” was an aberration under many aspects. Leaving aside the fact that it was a high-budget musical, which was a rare bold choice for Universal Pictures, that was mostly producing westerns and comedies at the time. But what the film really did, was to dare to show the uglier aspect of the late 19^th century of the Southern States environment surrounding the Mississippi communities. Thus, touching upon the racial segregation, which was a taboo topic for Hollywood. Robeson’s role was very much elevated, although not present in the entire film. The way he sings the lyrics of Hammerstein emphasizes the racial double standard and somehow promises a life away from “the white boss.”  

Supplemental Post #4 - Josh Nallathambi

This past Sunday I watched the pilot for HBO’s new comedy, Barry. Created by SNL alum Bill Hader and Silicon Valley showrunner Alec Berg, the show is a slight departure from the two’s previous style of comedy. While the show still ultimately operates a comedy, it takes on much more nuanced jokes and an overall darker tone that we haven’t seen from the two’s usual bro-style comedy. For Hader, this appears to be his goal, using this opportunity to rewrite the image that he had originally set out on when first starting in Hollywood.

Hader did a podcast with Bill Simmons a couple of weeks ago at SXSW and talked on about how his career in comedy got started purely out of random chance. He was taking classes at Second City when Megan Mullally saw him in a show and told Lorne Michaels about him. Hader had never planned to be an actor, he had originally moved to Los Angeles to become a filmmaker. He described his tenure at SNL as constantly stressful and anxiety-ridden, not looking back on it as favorably as other cast members would have. It makes you think if Hader saw SNL as a good opportunity, but a sidetrack from what he originally had planned to do in the industry. He said that he had came to be a director and make films like Goodfellas, not be recognized for something like the character of Stefon.

It appears that Barry is the kind of project that Hader always wanted to do. Hader directs and co-writes the pilot and shows extreme skill, pacing the episode to and finding a clear tone, more akin to the Coen Brothers as opposed to something like the Farrelly Brothers.  As the show moves forward it will be interesting to see how Hader’s star image evolves, and if pending success will lead Hader to continue to stray into more dramatic work.

Here’s the link to the podcast: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=invjjI9e62o

Edit: I totally forgot to add the whole reason why I found this interesting. This whole contradiction got me thinking about star image and the concept of who defines it, the star or the audience. If the audience recieves Hader as a comedic star, known for his impressions, how long would it take them to change their view to the more creator, darker, image that Hader is trying to present now with Barry? If a star portrays themselves as one side but the audience chooses to claim them as another trope, what level of power does the star have?

Supplemental Post 4 - Lauren Sullivan

After years of anticipation, I saw Isle of Dogs over the weekend. I went into the film with excitement (as I always enjoy Wes Anderson movies) as well as apprehension (because I was afraid to see Anderson mishandle or problematically depict his Japanese characters and setting). And while I did thoroughly enjoy the film, there were of course some questionable elements (which I could go on about, but will limit my discussion to how it relates to stardom). Anderson introduces the stop-motion film, its canine protagonists, and Japanese setting by explaining that the Japanese human characters will speak in their native tongue and will only be translated into English through occasional interpreters or subtitles and that all dog barks will be dubbed in American English. The film operates with the assumption that the audience is English-speaking and does not understand Japanese, which is used to depict the language barrier between humans and dogs, as the story is told from the dogs’ perspective. While I understand this creative decision, it seems a little insensitive to the history of cultural appropriation, orientalism, and white-washing in Hollywood, and works to other its Japanese characters. This is strengthened in the film’s casting of Scarlett Johansson and Tilda Swinton, who have stirred up a lot of controversy in the past with their whitewashing roles in Ghost in the Shell and Doctor Strange, respectively, as well as Bill Murray, who, alongside Johansson, problematically depicted Japanese culture in the Tokyo-set Lost in Translation. I know that Swinton, Johansson, and Murray all appear in multiple Wes Anderson films and that Anderson’s recurring cast defines his work, but do think public knowledge and reputations of stars undeniably come into play when interpreting a film and thus should be taken into account by the filmmaker. I also feel uncomfortable with the non-Japanese-speaking cast being nearly all white and feel that Greta Gerwig’s character, a white American exchange student that leads pro-dog protests, functions like a white savior. This shows that even in animated films with mostly non-human characters, where the stars are only heard and never seen, stardom still plays a role in and complicates the interpretation of a film.

Josie Andrews Supplemental Blog Post #6 “Here I Stand” (1999)

Sorry, I know this is really long, but the reading was really long and then the documentary was really long… so this ended up being really long when I finished putting my thoughts to paper. If others didn’t have time to finish watching the film, I have a pretty good summary below that might help.

I finished watching the documentary about Paul Robeson, “Here I Stand,” and I found myself going back and re-watching different segments several times. As a “Jersey Girl,” I have grown up with a great understanding and appreciation for Paul Robeson as a great bass vocalist, Broadway actor and artist who played Othello in the longest run of any Shakespeare play on Broadway,  film star to play more than just an Uncle Tom character, as well as an individual who shattered glass ceilings in 1915-1919 by being named Phi Beta Kappa his Junior Year and greatest oralist, as well as all American athlete, lettering in twelve sports at Rutgers, but I never truly understood his contributions to civil rights for the poor and oppressed and political activism for the unionized working class until I watched this documentary.   

Our HB Reading, “Robeson: crossing over,” discusses in detail why Robeson was a successful cross-over artist—appealing to both black and white audiences from all walks of life—from the 1920s through World War II.  Dyer explains that this cross-over reflected Robeson’s ability to master two major stereotypes of blacks—Magic Negro/Uncle Tom and atavism (brute-beast primitive sexuality and physicality). On the one hand, Robeson’s good looks and large sexual body with its clear potential for great physical strength, which is matched by his powerful vocal voice, were prominently featured time and time again in films and other performances. Yet, by adopting an Uncle Tom-like wisdom and physical stillness that is contained and restrained—defined almost as a “sculptured stillness”—white cultures could embrace the “almost unbearable” pathos found in humbling such a powerful man.  At the same time, black audiences found reality in his voice, even without any physical action, and with white audiences could similarly empathize with Robeson’s soft, careful actual delivery of speech and song that expressed the sorrow and spirituality of his people. Robeson was also a model of black potential and success, and he became “an emblem of racial suffering” (126).  

In thinking about Robeson films that I have seen, the miscegenation scene in “Show Boat” that Dyer discusses, e.g. when the Sheriff comes to arrest Julie and Steve for inter-racial marriage, sticks out the most for me re: the power of Robeson’s "still" performance. However, while I agree that stillness might be a device for a "Magic Negro" who helps the white man see justice and injustice, I do not think stillness is a weak/feminine white quality as Dyers suggests. Instead, for me, when Robeson stands alone above in the galley—ironically, the place where segregated blacks had to sit to watch the show, you almost feel as if he is God, judging mankind for its cruelty to blacks. I was always moved by this scene and captivated by Robeson’s deep bass voice and calmness. I know Dyer saw this stillness as subjugation, but for me it was powerful and commanding, invoking my sense of injustice and shame for how a white America treated these citizens who helped build our country. Robeson's performance also reminded me today of many of the roles James Earl Jones plays.

  

Of course, white society dictated the terms of America’s acceptance of this “exceptional” black man. Robeson was most appealing as a cross-over artist when he played the on-looker, observer or conscience of the white man for the black man’s sorrow and injustices. But, when Robeson no longer became the object of the gaze and a still statue but an active, often angry, black man, according to Dyer, his cross-over appeal ended. The documentary explores the rise of this cross-over appeal and, even more dramatically, the end of this appeal, supporting Dyer's argument. 

In the documentary, although emblematic of racism, Robeson was portrayed early in his career not as the normal black but the “exceptional,” model negro—educated, wealthy, well-spoken, handsome, athletic, and patriotic. In World War II, Robeson sold war bonds, performed patriotic concerts and spoke passionately about his belief in America and the black’s responsibility to fight. This changed in 1946—just one year after WWII when thousands of blacks had died fighting for a segregated America, 46 blacks were lynched in the South. When Robeson met with Truman, he was told it was not politically expedient to do anything about that right now. Outraged that he had encouraged blacks to fight for a country that continued to subjugate them, he turned to the power of his words to encourage blacks to fight back for their civil rights. However, America's white and black community—even the NAACP—turned on him as “Red Fear” of Communism spread through the nation. A socialist, not a Communist, Robeson refused to be cowered by the Committee or anyone who sought to deny him his right to practice free speech or free association.

Robeson spent his life fighting for civil rights of blacks and the rights of union workers. Recognized as one of the ten most important people in the world (not black men, but all people), his words were important.  But, the words I found most moving by Robeson in the film were those he spoke to the House Un-American Activities Committee when subpoenaed to testify for his continued defense of Soviet Communism. When asked why he didn’t stay in Russia, his response was defiant, strong and crystal clear: “Because my father was a slave and my people died to build this country, and, I am going to stay here, and have a part of it just like you. And no Fascist-minded people will drive me from it. Is that clear?” 

After a final attempt to rally people for peace with the Soviet Union at a violent concert at Peekskill (#2), the FBI and the Committee proceeded to destroy him, taking away his passport, and preventing him from performing anywhere—association with Robeson was deemed to be associating with a Communist and the FBI evidently conducted surveillance of his activities and even took the license plate numbers of anyone who attended even a church where he sang. The white press erased him from history for almost 20 years. Yet, convinced the enemy of discrimination and persecution persists in America, he never regretted sacrificing the privileges of the self for the rights of others. In 1958, with the end of the Red Scare, he was welcomed back into America's arms with a sold-out concert at Carnegie Hall.

What I found perplexing was his relationship not with Lenin’s Russia—which I discovered on the internet had been a sanctuary for thousands of African-American intellectuals who were highly valued and paid well to relocate in the 1920s and part of the 1930s—but with Stalin’s brutal dictatorship. Stalin actually exiled the thousands of African-Americans who had prospered under the former regime. He also and murdered intellectuals and artists who believed in socialism and free thought, including Robeson’s Jewish intellectual friend Itzik Ferrer. In a June 1949 Concert at Moscow's Tchaikovsky Hall, Robeson had discovered these atrocities against humanity and sang as his encore “Zog nit Keynmol", the defiant "Song of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. Yet, when he returned to America, he insisted that he saw no purges. 

Robeson’s son explained that his father weighed the evils of Communism versus the 300-year-old persecution of blacks in America that persisted even after blacks courageously fought in World War II--and he came out in favor of supporting anything that was closer to socialism than what was found in America. Yet, I found it curious that someone who so strongly believed in fighting injustices where he saw them did not fight this one, too. I just don't know how you place a hierarchy on evil in any form.

In reconciling Dyer’s book with the documentary, I would also note that I completely disagree with Dyer to the extent he agrees with Cruse or Bogle that Robeson was for himself first and for his people and civil rights only when it promoted his own cause (66). Robeson  fought for civil rights his entire life—first by trying to work within the white cultural system to show racial equality (or even superiority) by shattering barriers and walls in athletics, education, law (Columbia law grad), and then in the arts—by eventually refusing parts that put blacks in primitive stereotypical roles, changing the lyrics of “Old Man River” (refusing to sing the word ‘nigger’), playing Othello with a cast of white actors—a part where he must kiss, strangle and later kill his white wife without inflaming white audiences, and the many other examples shown in the film.  Then, when he felt that his country would never stop subjugating and lynching blacks, he used his power to voice his outrage—so much to his detriment, he completely lost any ability to earn an income for almost 20 years. If those are the actions of someone self-centered, then we need a great more self-centered people in this country to speak and stand up.