Monday, November 12, 2012

Zansonsha: What's in a Name?

I have been using the alias Zansonsha for quite some time now, but I have yet to really define it or explain why I’ve chosen this Japanese term to represent my identity and my work. As much as I am annoyed by essays which begin with definitions, it would seem necessary in this case. Zansonsha (残存者) loosely translates to “one who survives” or, depending on usage, “one who remains”.

Even as a child, I was interested in the meaning of life and death. The threat of death was a very real one for me. My earliest memories are of hospital rooms, where doctors would share grim prognoses with my worried parents. I was a mess of respiratory and autoimmune problems that would have been a fatal concoction; aside from excellent health care and a loving family, I have no idea how such a labyrinth of circumstances got me through those early years.

My earliest vivid memory of asthma is from what I believe was late elementary school. My brother and I were home alone while my mother was at work, and an attack struck. If you haven’t experienced asthma firsthand, the best way I can describe it is for you to imagine what a literal fish out of water must feel like, a dry kind of drowning, muscles straining to draw in what little air the bronchial tube will permit, like pinching the end of a straw and trying to suck air through it. Consciousness fades gradually, becoming a light-headed delirium followed by blackouts. Rescue medication is not guaranteed to work, forcing an occasional visit to the hospital. This particular attack would require one of those visits. Rather than let my brother call and disturb my mother at work, I insisted he not call, forcing myself to fight against my own body for several hours. When my mother finally got home, she was upset and asked why I did not call her. My response was: “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Survivor is an interesting word. To most, it has an overwhelmingly positive connotation. It has a band, a reality show, and hundreds of support groups to give it meaning. The reason it’s so positive is apparent: our culture values human life to such a degree that we care more about the presence of it than the quality of it. We are a culture that discourages suicide, euthanasia and abortion. Life is a divine gift, and a survivor is someone who fights to protect the gift of life.

While this philosophy is sound enough, being alive is a collaborative effort, and this is especially true for survivors. Survivors have a heightened awareness of those who have contributed to our lives: the parents and teachers who were there to educate and nurture us, the friends who supported us, professionals who worked to save us, artists whose work gave our lives greater meaning. With such awareness, survivors may be overcome with a sense of guilt. Survival seems less like something that is earned and more like something that requires human charity and a particular alignment of the stars. The struggle of a survivor is not simply to live, but to feel deserving of salvation, to repay a living debt. It is the struggle to ease one’s burden on others.

Such a sense of responsibility can be overwhelming, and one’s ability to come to terms with the absurdity of death and find a way to contribute to society can make or break a man. Using a word like survivor would seem inadequate to capture this psychological sense of survival. The two closest words in the English language would be holdover or remainder, but there’s something mathematical and impersonal about such terms. It was clear to me that I would have to borrow from a foreign language.

While many cultures have their great existentialist writers, I was attracted to the maturity of Japanese storytelling from a young age. The shows, movies and video games I grew up with were created by artists who were children or young adults in the aftermath of World War II, forced to deal with the realities of death on a massive scale and the guilt of survival. Taking a page from reality and turning it to fiction, teenagers engage in war with experimental weapons, children watch as cultures are decimated, and false gods are slain. These themes extended into literature as well, be it through the absurdist eye of Kōbō Abe or the postmodern pen of Haruki Murakami. Such artists have proven a significant influence on me, and my choice of a Japanese word is largely a tribute to that. Zansonsha does not carry the positive connotation of the English survivor, but it does retain the human element that other English terms lack.

Over the years I have become much more independent, but I have not forgotten how I got this far.  I write in honor of those who give of themselves to improve the quality of the lives of others, and I hope that my work will have the same effect on those looking to explore the hard questions of existence. I edit to give voice to those who need assistance sharing their stories with the world. Living is, after all, a shared experience.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Total Recall – Part 2: A Memory Better than the Real Thing?

While many of my suspicions about the new film proved to be correct, there's one very erroneous projection I made: that Total Recall would be disappointing to fans of film adaptations of Dick's work. Rather, Wiseman's creation proves a tribute to just about every film based on Dick from Blade Runner to Minority Report, with elements of A Scanner Darkly to boot. Some are more obvious: Quaid on his balcony in the rain looking over the city is a clear reference to a similar scene in Blade Runner, as is the role of the piano. The section of The Colony where Quaid lives, New Asia, obviously borrows the noir visual style of Blade Runner while the United Federation of Britain borrows the sleeker, brighter style of Minority Report (as does the car chase). Less obvious are the thematic elements: Rekall is no longer presented as a clean, futuristic technology, but rather a seedy-seeming drug-enhanced experience; an added conversation between Quaid and Mathias (2012's Kuato) discusses the relationship between identity and memory more explicitly than Verhoeven's film did, recalling a similar “discussion” between Deckard and Rachael.

What makes it great:

Much to the chagrin of critics, much of the new film's intellectualism rests in subtlety; other than the obligatory Lori/Quaid and Edgemar/Harry/Quaid discussions, the writers didn't force the issues any more often than absolutely necessary, leaving the audience to insert them on their own. For example, here it makes much more sense that Quaid seeks a secret agent fantasy: we see him reading a James Bond novel on his way to work, and his investment in the Cohaagen/rebel conflict stems from his wife's career as an agent of Cohaagen herself. The woman he dreams about isn't so exotic here, either; in fact, she's all but indistinguishable from Lori in physical features and ability (certainly not as contrasting as Sharon Stone and Rachel Ticotin). While Schwarzenegger's Quaid selects a fantasy that satisfies a childlike curiosity and dissatisfaction with everyday life, Farrel's Quaid picks a fantasy much closer to home. Not only does this lend to the idea that the 'dream' is real, but it raises the question of why we choose the things about which we fantasize. We have fewer lines like: “I just had a terrible thought; what if this is a dream?”, but they aren't missed any more than the narration in Blade Runner.

Considering the reality, Wiseman complements the original Total Recall's nightmarish fantasy violence by grounding his film in more realistic and mature circumstances: rather than insert an unfamiliar face to talk him out of his 'dream', here we have Harry attempting to convince Quaid of his schizophrenia, along with higher stakes than the red pill Edgemar offered. The slip into a dream state is also all but non-existent, which I thought was a nice touch; conveying the sense of falling asleep, particularly where anesthesia is involved, is a difficult thing to pull off in film. In reality it seems to happen in the blink of an eye with only a vague awareness of time having passed on the sleeper's part. The fade-outs in the original film force the audience to acknowledge the passage of time, though in real life it would be perceived very differently. The result of Farrell's more realistic Quaid is of course a less fun, less quotable Total Recall, but also a film that better addresses questioning reality and identity.

The visual style is much sleeker and less gritty, which improves the pacing of the film particularly in the action sequences. Farrell's Quaid can move and is quick to react to new situations, making his performance more visually interesting than Schwarzenegger's brief, grittier fights. It's easier to believe that Farrell's Quaid is at least Lori's equal, if not her better, while Schwarzenegger's Quaid just barely seems to keep up with those around him, meeting most obstacles with brawn, resilience, and the occasional explosive.

All in all, Wiseman's Total Recall is an excellent complement to Verhoeven's over-the-top Schwarzenegger vehicle, and stands pretty well on its own as an entertaining film.

What makes it mediocre (may contain spoilers):

It's a summer blockbuster. That sums up a lot of the film's perceived problems, though I'll explore them in more detail. Total Recall didn't need to be an action film and could have been handled much differently with this cast, but Wiseman and company thought a straight "remake" would attract the biggest audience, and they may have been right. It certainly hasn't impressed critics, on the other hand. Action movies are a dime a dozen, especially in today's cinema, and Quaid isn't quite competition for Batman or Spider-man. With that in mind, Total Recall is most certainly going to be overlooked this summer, though it may enjoy a bigger following once it's on a home format.

While much of the film is beautiful to look at, many of the visual elements are spoiled by the rampant use of CGI. At times, it creates an interesting effect; New Asia has a 'floating world' effect that's beautiful to look at and affects the way action scenes play out. At other times, the storytelling seems to stop to show off some visual effect which doesn't seem worth pausing the film to see. Thankfully, Wiseman seems to work in live action visual effects as well, which makes it a little more difficult to distinguish what's physically there and what's animated at times (the synths are the best example of this).

The plot is about ten years too late: the idea that terrorists could be scapegoated as an excuse to go to war was a common conspiracy theory circling the September 11th tragedy, and might have been more relevant then. Today, it seems cliché (no more cliché than it was in the original, but even so). Given the film's maturity and American sensitivity toward the subject, I would have liked to see the rebels here try to legitimize their terrorist acts as the main characters in Star Wars, V for Vendetta and Final Fantasy VII do. Instead, Wiseman plays it safe here, and I think the film suffers a little for it.

The treatment of women would seem to be better in Wiseman's film. Lori replaces Richter as a more than capable pursuant of Quaid, and Melina is no longer a prostitute. There are fewer catty comments between characters, and Mary (the three-breasted woman given no name in Wiseman's credits) handles Quaid's rejection much better. Unfortunately, this just seems to skirt the Madonna/whore issues Verhoeven faced head-on. Here, Lori fills both roles as she did in the original film, but Melina only fills the Madonna role, leading the audience to push Lori into the whore category and lose the ability to connect with her (made worse by the fact that her motivation to take down Hauser against orders is never stated explicitly, making her seem psychopathic as well; as two-dimensional as Richter was, his motive made a lot more sense).

One can hardly put Harry Gregson-Williams in a category like 'mediocre' and feel good about it, but Total Recall's score just seems to be missing something: perhaps a notable melody to attach to the film. The use of polyrhythms is fantastic and intense, particularly in augmenting the action sequences, but it doesn't leave a memorable theme in the listener's head after having heard it the way that Goldsmith's does. Then again, the same complaint was levied against Goldsmith's score, so perhaps it's just something I missed the first time through.


I could probably go on, but I feel that Wiseman's homages to Dick's film universe give the film a sense of respect and a unique enough feel that it doesn't come off entirely as a remake of Total Recall, but rather a tribute to it and its creators. It is well executed, well written, and just a little gimmicky at times. For a summer blockbuster, it is worthy of attention. As a science fiction film, it's worthy of including in any discussion, though much of what's explored here has been done in previous works. Wiseman has given us a sci-fi cento that should, at the very least, keep its source materials alive and well.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

“Total Recall”: We Can Remember It With You

As we come upon the release of yet another summer blockbuster that owes its script to another great work of art, I would like to say that I’ll be going to see it with an open mind. Why we’re so resistant to the idea of remakes is a concept I’ll get to, but I can definitely understand why a movie studio would want to remake a film like Total Recall. It was fun, action-packed, and thought-provoking enough to stand out among action films that had been bogged down by repetitive plot points. Yet I can’t help but feel that this summer’s contribution to Dick’s legacy will be at least somewhat disappointing to fans; Verhoeven and Schwarzenegger’s vision of Total Recall created one of my favorite films and a film that deserves more credit than it often receives.

Why it’s a Classic:

Total Recall was part of a great series of films that sought to elevate the action genre above its roots in Westerns and give it a more intellectual feel perfectly complemented by the science fiction genre, creating either an action-science-fiction or science-fiction-action subgenre which confused more than one video store manager. Aliens, Blade Runner, and Escape from New York shine as examples, and Schwarzenegger was no stranger to the format, starring in Predator, The Terminator, and The Running Man. It was Schwarzenegger himself who pushed to have this film made, as he believed in the potential of the script and his ability to sell it to an audience. As such, Schwarzenegger became a champion of the “thinking man’s action movie,” and Total Recall is an indispensable part of that tradition.

By its nature, Total Recall is the kind of movie that can lay out the entire plot for you start to finish and still leave you gripped as to what will happen and, after you’ve seen it, what really happened. As with Blade Runner and the question of whether Deckard is a Replicant, you can’t help but watch it a second time and see if there is something you missed. And perhaps a third time. Total Recall is intentionally and masterfully ambiguous, and to this day I haven’t come to a decisive conclusion about which of the possible theories I believe: there’s enough evidence to argue them all. To be ‘thinking’ movies, a film must present something new to think about, give clear evidence toward multiple conclusions, and give the issue importance in the way the story unfolds. Total Recall has all of that.

Total Recall 2
What Total Recall did to make it totally unique is to pair the idea of memory and identity (explored in Blade Runner) with the notion of prophecy and, more specifically, self-fulfilling prophecy. Quaid believes himself to be the hero, but events around him all but force him on a particular path giving him only the mere illusion of choice (with the preservation of his identity in mind). At several points in the story, Quaid is told what he will do by a salesman, a scientist, and a mystic. While the only one he actively chooses to follow is the mystic, doing so causes him to fulfill the prophecy of Edgemar he’d hoped to avoid. The one discrepancy between prophesies (whether he wakes up, is lobotomized, or is actually on Mars) is left to the audience.

Today, ‘thinking man’s action movies’ are the norm, but in a skewed sense: the thinking is done for us, leaving us to argue with the writers rather than collaborate with them. When the issues presented are ones we’ve already thought about, filmmakers seem to avoid ambiguity and present their own conclusions instead, a commonality evidenced as recently as Inception (and when films attempt ambiguity, they risk the fate of Sucker Punch). Reality versus fantasy from the point of view of an unreliable narrator is a theme that has been done to death, literally in some cases. As such, it doesn’t seem like remaking a film like Total Recall will add much to the discussion.

One of the best things about the writing in Total Recall is, of course, its penchant for one-liners and otherwise lovely quotables. Aside from the usual Arnoldisms, there’s:
Lori: “Beats me. I just work here.”
Richter:  “What was that, sir? I couldn’t hear you; I’ve got sunspots.”
Cohaagen: “All dreams come to an end.”
Benny: [Repeated line] “I got five kids to feed.”
Dr. Edgemar: “She’s real because you dreamed her?”
JohnnyCab: “Hope you enjoyed the ride! Haha!”

"You can't explain that!"
Other than the writing, what stands out to most who’ve seen Total Recall it is the visual experience. Total Recall was one of the last great films before the CGI era, and it shows for the better in this case. Gorgeous matte paintings, believable prosthetics, and trick photography are all present and executed well. The Martian landscape in the opening dream sequence leaves a lasting impression, as well as the animated X-ray safety zone, the animatronics on Kuato and the sculpture-based effects in the nose-bug scene and Quaid’s mask. One can’t help watching these scenes in awe of how they’re done. Mike Mattei of Cinemassacre describes such traditional effects as “literally magic”[i]. Like any great magic show, even if you know the trick, the execution is still something to behold. While I feel CGI has lent a lot to the artistry of film, particularly in its earliest uses (Tron, The Last Starfighter) it does take the wonder out of how an effect is produced and is often used unnecessarily in place of traditional special effects. Aside from the X-ray scanner, everything you see in Total Recall is filmed, which makes it all the more interesting to watch. One can argue that Verhoeven’s love of blood packs and geysers interrupts the realism of the film, but pairing it with the prevalence of cement and steel architecture (called brutalist architecture for a reason) lends to a blend of fantasy violence and gritty visual interpretation perfect for a believable everyman.

Few things stand out more than one particular scene: Quaid’s introduction to The Last Resort. The clever name adds to an equally clever environment with a more colorful and diverse secondary cast than a Disney musical. Each has only a few spoken lines, but in those few lines we learn everything we need to know to flesh out and care about their characters. Complementing the environment is Bruno Louchouarn’s cheesy but catchy loop of “Mutant Dancing”. This scene is an excellent example of how to establish an alien setting in the shortest amount of screen time.

On the subject of music, Jerry Goldsmith’s score certainly requires mentioning. The opening theme titled “The Dream” is an excellent setup, blending ideas from Holst’s “Mars” with an electronic rhythm and orchestral percussion, building a crescendo that becomes increasingly complex. There’s a very brief B section characterized by an airy melody before a quick return to the unrelenting A section. At about 2:30, the urgency of the theme disappears as a string and winds variation picks up, followed by a very dissonant, uneasy coda. The leitmotifs established in the theme are heard throughout the film, particularly in the climactic “End of a Dream”. The light, airy tones are used often in the more thought-provoking scenes, most prominently through the scene with Dr. Edgemar, giving these moments a particularly otherworldly feel. Though the score is brilliant, one of my favorite scenes involves silence: Quaid’s meeting with Robert Costanzo’s Harry after visiting Rekall. The following fight scene offers no music at all, only gunshots, punches and snapping necks, grounding the film’s grittiness much as the Bane/Batman fight in The Dark Knight Rises.

Why Remake It?

Luhrmann adds a unique style to
Shakespeare's most produced work.
Besides the obvious reason of “established IPs make more money than new ones,” the first question we should ask is why remake anything? To that, I say “Why is it a ‘remake’?” The directors don’t seek to erase or ignore the past by “unmaking” the original film; rather, it is an adaptation of an existing story (as are most "original" works). Both should exist in complement of each other. And if you ask me why adapt an existing film when the original is already good enough, I’d just ask “Why not?” There are over 40 filmed productions of Romeo and Juliet and millions of different stage productions since the time of its writing. The story is the same, the actors and directors differ. So what is it about the nature of film that makes us think an actor and character are inseparable, or that the story shouldn't be retold?

Certainly, one can make the argument that Total Recall needn't be retold. Film, unlike theater, carries a sense of permanence. It can be viewed in exactly the same way over and over, and shared with others as the exact same production you saw. When you say “I really love Gone with the Wind,” you don’t have to specify it as the Fleming version or even the year it was made (though you may be asked to distinguish the film from the novel). In this sense, fans can't help wanting to protect the posterity of their version of the work. When you bring up Star Wars in a conversation, you may feel the need to specify whether you mean the original trilogy only, the six films without the expanded universe, or the expanded universe, but not the new trilogy. New films can damage the reputation of older works, but mostly for those who aren't familiar with the originals. A bad stage production doesn't necessarily reflect on the quality of the story.

On the other hand, like theater, film remains a product of the era in which it was produced. Technology and cultural significance can make a film less relevant over time, relying on a knowledge of the time it was produced to fully appreciate it. The prevalence of Asian languages and imagery in Blade Runner is one example, as is the sense of Cold War paranoia in Red Dawn and Rocky IV. Citizen Kane is a particularly useful example, as the person upon which it was based and the chutzpah it took to make such a film at that time have long been forgotten by modern audiences.

The White Yojimbo
Adapting old stories into new settings is a common art and, when done well, increases the meaning of both texts. West Side Story took Romeo and Juliet and made its point of contention not about parentage, but about race at a time when civil rights were taking center stage. Eddie Murphy vehicle The Nutty Professor took Jerry Lewis’s 1963 film and updated it, as weight discrimination became more culturally relevant than whether or not one was shy and awkward. Adaptations can also bring films from one culture to another, as we see with A Fistful of Dollars, The Ring and Insomnia. To call these films remakes is to do their originals a bit of injustice.

Dick's stories are excellent examples of adaptation done right: while his novels and short stories have made some incredible films, the best of them share little in common with the original work. Total Recall and We Can Remember It For You Wholesale are unique visions of the same story and excel because they're aware of the limitations and benefits of the media for which they were produced. While not terribly successful, even the Showtime original series Total Recall 2070 didn't seek to replicate the stories on which it is based, but instead created a world based on Dick's work and found stories to be told inside of it. Adaptation is necessary to retelling familiar stories, especially between media. Peter Jackson and his writers were aware that The Lord of the Rings required some changes for an adequate screen adaptation (and The Lord of the Rings is itself a fantasy retelling of The Nibelungenlied).

Having said that, I feel that for my generation and those older, very little of 80s culture has completely left us. Existentialist notions about reality, tragedy and identity are certainly there. Consumerism, sensationalism and corporate tyranny as well. There isn't much to Total Recall that falls by the wayside of time. However, one prevalent theme, post-colonialism and apartheid, is not so much a part of common thought. Terrorism, reaching back to Cold War paranoia, is much closer to our hearts and informs a lot more of today’s action and science fiction films than it did in the 80s. A Mars colony isn't necessary to the telling of Total Recall, but if you take it out, will the audience of the original still recognize the story?

Total Recall suffers just a little from the ‘everyone in the future is white’ problem as a lot of science fiction does. While Rachel Ticotin provides a main character of mixed race, Mel Johnson Jr.’s Benny comes off a bit, well, racist. A poor, black cab driver with five kids squandering his money at a brothel, and eager to tend to Quaid’s needs, following him loyally into the resistance? That can come off poorly. His character is redeemed momentarily when he confesses to deceiving Quaid, motivated only by profit (that’s better, right?) but not long after he’s chasing down Quaid in mining equipment yelling “I’m gonna drill you, sucka!” There’s a fair bit of scholarship on whether or not this character is regressively racist, but I have my doubts that such a character would even be around in 2084.

Then there’s Schwarzenegger. I’ll always be a die-hard Schwarzenegger fan, but Arnold himself is a bit of a relic of the 1980s and early 90s. His characters are always larger than life, which works in some cases like The Running Man, The Terminator, and Last Action Hero, but missteps in others. With Total Recall, I liked the character of Quaid, but since the story depends a little upon Quaid being a believable everyman, Arnold’s presence here is slightly distracting to one’s suspension of disbelief and all but forces the second and third acts to be comically over the top. Envisioning the character as a construction worker helps to explain his musculature, but doesn’t really make him seem more ordinary, especially when he’s spouting one-liners and ripping bolts out of JohnnyCabs.

Then there’s the fact that it’s an action film. Though Quail is an assassin in the original story, it needn’t be adapted into a big summer blockbuster with a fight scene between every few minutes of dialogue (consider other assassin films like Collateral and In Bruges). The perpetual chase works as well here as it does in The Terminator, keeping the story suspenseful throughout, but it also compromises the intelligence of the story to a point: Quaid’s pushed by Richter and Cohaagen to do exactly what the program wants him to do, thus his choice to listen to Kuato and resist Cohaagen isn't much choice at all. The Edgemar scene is the only spot where we feel Quaid could be in control of his fate, but it doesn't take him long to decide and the film wastes no time picking up the action bar again. A more subtle, dialogue-driven film could certainly work for this character and his world.

Could the story use a more modern adaptation effectively? Sure. Will it be effective? I’ll leave judgment of that until I've seen Wiseman's vision. I have no doubt that if it tries to do anything unique, there will be fans screaming about it (the same fans already complaining about the PG-13 rating, I'm sure). But with any adaptation, pissing off fans is a potential risk and a necessary one if your film wishes to add anything that wasn't already there.

[i] The Dungeonmaster (1985). Mike Mattei. April 16, 2012.

Monday, February 20, 2012

The New Celebrity: How New Media Affects Celebrity Texts

A post from George Takei's
popular Facebook Page
In Paul McDonald’s discourse on stardom in The Star System, celebrity is defined as a systematic exposure of the star text in such a way as to reinforce Capitalist male hegemony while appearing on the surface to merely entertain. This structure presupposes an audience that is entirely unaware of such businesslike positioning, instead buying into the concept of the American dream – that celebrity is the result of hard work, dedication, and charisma, a concept Max Weber loosely describes as a kind of supernatural quality, in this case an inborn talent, which allows them a level of success inaccessible to just anyone. Thus, we have been led to believe celebrities are where they are because they deserve to be. However, with the popularity of new media forms and the ever increasing efficiency by which information can be distributed, the star system has been forced to become a much more complex entity which no longer exists solely in the hands of producers, if it ever did.

Jim Carrey brings a "Jim
Carrey" quality to all of his
In his article “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”, Walter Benjamin asserts that because of the way film is constructed, the actor is rarely able to engage with his character or his audience and is therefore presenting not his role, but his self, to the camera. The star is not an actor in the traditional sense, but rather a person on film given prominence by the camera, through which the audience must experience the character. Benjamin argues that because anyone is capable of being filmed, we are all, in a sense, a kind of expert on film. Further, because the film is constructed with a level of care for detail impossible in other theatrical arts, and because the actor is required to model the reality that is reflected in their surroundings, the viewer is encouraged to be hypercritical of film. For a star to maintain their stardom, they must be able to jockey their way between performance and an audience relationship outside of the film itself.

Autographed photos
remain important to fans.
That relationship may once have been easy to control, as in the past it has been achieved through fan mail, clubs, and conventions, but with new media and its ability to reshape the celebrity text, the power of celebrity now rests in the hands of the blogger, the YouTube uploader, and the tabloid publisher, whose agency in reshaping star texts has become almost as important, if not more so, than the films these stars produce. In his article “New Media – New Self: The changing power of celebrity”, P. David Marshall addresses several of the changes celebrities today must face in maintaining their fame in response to this shift.

Drew Barrymore saves whales in
real life and on film in Big Miracle.
One suggestion is that celebrities such as Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt have allowed their personal lives to attract more publicity from tabloids and bloggers in order to keep themselves a matter of constant discourse in the absence of films. Celebrities may go so far as to create imitative scandals preceding the release of a film in order to gain publicity. Thus, rather than ever accept these celebrities as characters in a role, we are encouraged to interpret their identity in reality as equal to that which they portray in film. As Rebecca Williams points out, Drew Barrymore’s role choices have shown her agency in shaping her star image while taking advantage of the power of the associative relationship between actor and role. The interpretation of Barrymore’s casting in any particular role is contingent upon an understanding of her personal outlook on her career, with which the audience is already expected to be familiar.

"It's like people only do things
because they get paid. And that's
just really sad." ~ Garth Algar
The celebrity today is no longer able to separate film performance from product endorsements. As distributed media, both in terms of home video and internet streaming, become the primary means by which viewers experience film, producers cannot rely on income from commercial breaks alone and thus interweave advertising into the film itself, a phenomenon known as product placement. Product placement in film has become so common that it often goes without conscious awareness, explained away as character preference rather than a reinforcement of brand consumerism. We only seem to become aware of product placement when it is purposefully brought to our attention, usually in the context of parody. In a popular scene in Wayne’s World, Wayne Campbell says “Maybe I’m wrong on this one, but for me ‘the beast’ [acting for television] doesn’t include selling out” as he demonstrates in an obvious fashion eating from a bag of Doritos. In the same scene, when told that compliance is his choice, Wayne responds with the Pepsi slogan “Yes, and it’s the choice of a new generation,” then drinks from a can of Pepsi. Wayne’s commentary here both criticizes product placement in television while reinforcing it in film. With the exception of Nuprin, the products advertised in this scene (Pepsi, Doritos, Pizza Hut, Reebok and Nike) are popular with the demographic expected to be watching the film.

Thankfully, Jack Bauer's loyalty to
his country is stronger than his
loyalty to car makers.
Reception to product placement in television has been characterized by mixed responses. Such deals can disrupt the viewer’s suspension of disbelief when visually obvious, such as the prominence of Ford (and later Toyota) vehicles in the series 24, Apple products in The Big Bang Theory, as well as the prevalence of various branded products in 30 Rock. The fact that these instances of placement are noticeable is suggestive of the fact that product placement in television is somewhat new and unusual, but ultimately effective. However, this practice requires the celebrity to sacrifice aspects of their image in “selling out” to corporate forces.

The slanket may not be product
placement, but I wonder about the
Few celebrities have worked their way around the problem of selling out and one’s celebrity image. One working method has been to spin the concept of product integration (writing the product into the plot of the show) into loving parody. A recent episode of The Big Bang Theory, “The Beta Test Initiation” (S05E14), features Siri, Apple’s advanced voice recognition software native to the iPhone 4S, as a necessary part of the episode’s B plot: the only “woman” to whom Kunal Nayyar’s character can speak without the influence of alcohol. 30 Rock has further integrated branding into the writing to such a degree that it is often difficult to tell what is paid product placement and what is included for humor’s sake: in “The Ones” (S03E19), Tina Fey’s character wears a product called a “slanket” and when discovered by her boss, breaks the fourth wall in proclaiming “It’s not product placement, I just like it!” Using a different approach, Lady Gaga’s video “Telephone” incorporates many corporate products, some of which become a part of her physical presentation (i.e. Diet Coke cans as hair curlers), but also includes a number of fake products, such as a “name-brand” poison, that visually parody the practice of product placement. These tactics allow actors to maintain a sense of individualism in the midst of corporate influence.

Lady Gaga speaks for herself... and maybe Diet Coke.

Betty White maintains her hip well.
Facebook and Twitter have given fans more agency in the success or failure of stars than ever before. What once took a complex letter-writing campaign can now be accomplished with a few words and the click of a mouse: Betty White’s career was recently revitalized not by a brilliant Emmy-worthy role, but by a Snicker’s commercial that prompted fan David Matthews to create a page on Facebook titled “Betty White to Host SNL (Please?)!” The page attracted enough attention from fans, White's representatives and Saturday Night Live’s producers that then 88-year-old White was announced as the host for a special Mother’s Day episode. On the other end of the spectrum, a tweet from Michael J. Wolf regarding Alec Baldwin’s behavior on a particular American Airlines flight prompted a number of Wegmans customers to use Twitter to demand that the company pull ads featuring Baldwin. When the company promptly complied, Baldwin’s fans retaliated with “hundreds and hundreds of tweets, emails and phone calls”, prompting Wegmans to issue an apology and release the ads.

Sheen describes himself
as an "unemployed winner"
With so many potential influences on the celebrity image outside of the celebrity’s control, a direct line of communication between stars and their audiences is crucial for success. Today, celebrities will often write their own blogs, post statuses on Twitter, and create fan pages on Facebook that feed the audience a constant stream of information, both preventing their image from being forgotten and giving the star a level of agency in the way fans reshape their image. Many celebrities, particularly musical artists such as Lady Gaga and Fallout Boy, have used this medium to give their fans a sense of closeness and identification that is not possible through music videos alone. Charlie Sheen's recent fall from grace could provide an excellent case study of the relationship between self-representation and fan response.

Felicia Day: a model of
the self-made celebrity
Celebrities now must truly work to maintain a celebrity status: they must constantly be aware of their public image, on guard at all times to protect that image and be familiar with a number of tools with which they may do so. They must keep themselves in a constant state of relevance between artistic engagements. They must accept the audience as agents in their success, not simply consumers of a product. If at any time being a celebrity were difficult, it is certainly made more so by newer forms of media which democratize the process. And yet, somewhat conversely, it has become easier for some to circumvent the systematic production of celebrity and achieve fame through these new forms of media, as Felicia Day and Perez Hilton have done. It can thus be said that celebrity has left the purely commercial space that it once occupied and, as Marshall asserts, the distance between fan and celebrity “is narrowing quite dramatically.”

Dan Amira. “Alec Baldwin is Too Rude to Be in a Supermarket Commercial [Updated]”. New York Magazine
Eoin O’Carroll. “Thanks to grassroots Facebook campaign, actress Betty White to host ‘Saturday Night Live’”. The Christian Science Monitor

Max Weber. The Theory of Social and Economic Organization. Ed. Talcott Parsons. ISBN 0684836408.
P. David Marshall. “New Media – New Self: The changing power of celebrity”. The Celebrity Culture Reader. ISBN 0415337925.
Paul McDonald. The Star System. ISBN 1903364027.
Rebecca Williams. “From Beyond Control to In Control: Investigating Drew Barrymore’s Feminist Agency/Authorship”. Stardom and Celebrity: A Reader. Ed. Su Holmes and Sean Redmond. ISBN 1412923212.
Walter Benjamin. “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”.