Seeing Fans

Representations of Fandom in Media and Popular Culture

Lucy Bennett, Paul Booth, Lucy Bennett, Paul Booth

• Publisher: Bloomsbury Academic
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781501318467
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Media & Performing Arts
• Subtopic: Film & Video

Split into four sections, Seeing Fans analyzes the representations of fans in the mass media through a diverse range of perspectives. This collection opens with a preface by noted actor and fan Orlando Jones ( Sleepy Hollow ), whose recent work on fandom (appearing with Henry Jenkins at Comic Con and speaking at the Fan Studies Network symposium) bridges the worlds of academia and the media industry. Section one focuses on the representations of fans in documentaries and news reports and includes an interview with Roger Nygard, director of Trekkies and Trekkies 2. The second section then examines fictional representations of fans through analyses of television and film, featuring interviews with Emily Perkins of Supernatural, Robert Burnett, director of the film Free Enterprise, and Luminosity, a fan who has been interviewed in the New York Magazine for her exemplary work in fandom. Section three explores cultural perspectives on fan representations, and includes an interview with Laurent Malaquais, director of Bronies: The Extremely Unexpected Adult Fans of My Little Pony. Lastly, the final section looks at global perspectives on the ways fans have been represented and finishes with an interview with Jeanie Finlay, director of the music documentary Sound it Out. The collection then closes with an afterword by fan studies scholar Professor Matt Hills.

Part One

Documenting Fans: Shades of Reality

1

Beyond Exploitation Cinema: Music Fandom, Disability, and Mission to Lars

Mark Duffett

Mission to Lars (Moore and Spicer 2012) is a feature documentary in which Kate and William Spicer help their brother Tom make his dream come true. Tom wishes to meet drummer Lars Ulrich from the heavy metal band Metallica. He also has Fragile X syndrome, which Kate calls, “a sort of autism with bells on.” Mission to Lars is therefore a film about disability and popular music fandom. Its marketing and reviews suggest a warm and sympathetic portrait of family life in which two siblings help a third to achieve his ambition. On the aggregator site RottenTomatoes.com, an audience member called Damian O takes a very different position, arguing, “Anyone with any emotional intelligence can see that Tom genuinely does not like his sister and can probably tell that she is using him for the specific means of making a film.”¹ Although such claims can be debated, no documentary innocently captures its subject.² Mission to Lars explores issues of disability awareness. Raising the possibility that Kate and Will Spicer may not have been motivated by altruism, it deliberately contrasts able-bodied and disabled cast members by using fan stereotypes. The film is therefore an unusual fansploitation picture, depicting fandom both as a training ground for employment and as a compensation for the disabled.

Drawing on arguments developed by Pointon and Davies (1997), media scholar Karen Ross (2001) notes that the term “disabled people” is preferable to people with disabilities because “society disables people, rather than an individual’s particular impairment” (p. 433).³ Narrative representations of the disabled do not, therefore, simply matter as reflections of disability; they are also active constructions. Waltz (2005) considers autism as a category constructed by medical case studies: “The issue of voice in these narratives seems to be the most crucial: people with autism are denied primacy, and even agency, in all but the least-mediated personal texts” (p. 432). This tendency to speak for others in medical investigations has had significant consequences. “In the field of autism research,” Waltz reasons, “the text has so frequently and uncritically been mistaken for the subject that uncovering the ideologies within these narratives is of crucial importance” (p. 434). Medical case study notes are not the only form of representation that help to circulate constructions of disability, however. Media representations also play a role.

In 1992, after consulting its eighty-two member organizations and a further twenty-five broadcasters and advertisers, the British Council of Organizations of Disabled People produced an extensive and influential report called Disabling Imagery and the Media: An Exploration of the Principles for Media Representations (Barnes 1992). Although two decades have elapsed since the report’s publication, the set of commonly recurring stereotypes it describes remain relevant. The Disabling Imagery stereotypes include portrayals of disabled people as pitiable and pathetic; as subjected to ridicule; as objects of violence (victims); as sinister and evil; as their own worst enemies; as incapable of fully participating in community life; for atmosphere or curio; as “super cripples” successfully triumphing over extreme odds; and, finally, as (emphatically) normal(ized).⁴ While it might be hard to offer any character entirely divorced from the Disabling Imagery stereotypes, the list forms a useful set of starting points from which to analyze cinematic portrayals of disability.

Exploitation films are cheaply made pictures, each built around a simple and shocking central concept that is easily grasped by viewers. Such films have been “continuously dismissed as cheap or irrelevant rubbish” (Mathijs and Mendik 2004, 4). Both fandom and disability have been the subject matter of such films in the past. Exploitation films about disabled people have often associated them with abnormality, social rejection, and violent retribution. A range of films such as Freaks (Browning 1932) and Basket Case (Henenlotter 1982) have interpreted the deformed body as something hideous and excluded from ordinary social life.

Films about music fandom have regularly stereotyped the phenomenon. Henry Jenkins (1992) listed a series of stereotypes propagated in mainstream media representations of fans. These include the notions that fans are framed as “brainless consumers” or “social misfits,” who place inappropriate importance on devalued cultural material and are unable to separate fantasy from reality (p. 10). The two terms correspond to Theodor Adorno’s (1938/2001, 52) much older descriptions of hypothetical faddists (“beetles whirring around in fascination”) and socially inadequate individuals (“shy and inhibited”). In turn, they roughly suggest gendered positions: at worst, female fans are supposed to be gregarious but stupid, while male fans are clever but socially isolated (see Jensen 1992). Fansploitation films like Groupie Girl (Ford 1970) and The Fan (Bianchi 1981) present fannish activity as a slippery slope, a temptation either “entrapping” vulnerable females or “turning” sociopathic males. In such representations, media fandom is cast as a pretext for marginalized, inadequate, isolated, and resentful males to vent their fury on the social world. The portrayals suggest that fandom is the result of commercial betrayal and/or a refuge for Oedipally arrested, male killers. Even documentaries about dedicated music audiences have tended to interpret their subject matter by focusing on fandom as a mass “phenomenon” (exploring communities of like-minded followers or the travails of celebrities on tour), or by dwelling on the lives of smaller cohorts of “extreme” fans.⁵ Recent documentary portrayals have developed in ways that can accommodate a range of readings. Analyzing the television documentary Wacko About Jacko (Leveugle 2005), for instance, fandom scholar Matt Hills (2007) argues that it is too simple to frame contemporary representations as either wholly positive or wholly negative. Mainstream audience members increasingly participate in fannish activities like performing their passions on social media. Fandom has become normalized as a mode of media consumption. Features like Wacko About Jacko, therefore, attempt to both grapple with the pervasive legacy of mass culture thinking and present fan practices in a more positive light. The stereotypes have not entirely disappeared, but rather have been re-imagined as shared conditions in need of knowing commentary. The polysemy of some contemporary media representations allows fan participants to celebrate their time in the spotlight, while still acknowledging that derogatory readings remain acceptable.

Unlike typical exploitation films, Mission to Lars is not a “descent” movie, but rather an “ascent” one, offering something different to the formulaic plots of traditional commercial exploitation fare. It avoids many of the classic stereotypes that associate fandom and disability with monstrosity and revenge, and departs significantly from “trash” films in that respect. Insofar as the film uncritically draws on stereotypes about music fandom and associates it with clinical disorder and social rejection, Mission to Lars is a fansploitation movie. It portrays fandom and disability not on their own terms, but in relation to common assumptions about them.

On common ground? United by fannish desire

Celebrities exude what Walter Benjamin (1936/2007) calls the “spell of personality” (231). They are understood as having ascended to a separate, privileged, and glamorous realm. As the media studies writer Nick Couldry (2007) puts it, “It is ‘common sense’ that the ‘media world’ is somehow better, more intense, than ‘ordinary life,’ and that ‘media people’ are somehow special” (p. 353). The idea of famous people as stellar beings (“stars”) emphasizes the distance between them and their audiences (Williams 2012). Stratospheric descriptions of performers suggest that electronic media (which include sound recording) bring performers and audiences together, but do so in an inevitably distanced and alienated way. Titles of exploitation films reflect their high concepts and make them easy to market. The name of the Spicers’ documentary is an obvious pun on “mission to Mars,” a reference to real space exploration and the scientific imperative to reach the red planet. In the context of the film’s title, the idea of Mars as an inaccessible destination reinforces our interpretation of celebrities as distant people: individuals located way out in the firmament of the cosmos.⁶ Mission to Lars extends its stellar theme by marking different segments of the narrative with titles such as 6 Days to Launch. The feature-length documentary contrasts rainy, green, English countryside with the idea of “this trip to America.” The film recycles a familiar phrase to promote the stereotypical idea that music fandom is a form of personal obsession imbued with relentless momentum. It reminds us that able-bodied viewers and disabled people share the same desires.

Most people are fans of somebody or something, and many are thrilled by the thought of meeting their heroes. Fans frequently have urges to get closer to the objects of their interest. The practice of celebrity following—which has largely been neglected by the last two decades of fan studies—can be analyzed from a range of perspectives. Psychologists such as Gayle Stever (2013), for example, understand celebrity pursuit as a form of “proximity-seeking” behavior. On the other hand, Kerry Ferris and Scott Harris (2011) have approached it purely as a specific kind of micro-sociological practice. In my own work (Duffett 2013), I have used Durkheim’s notions of totemism and effervescence as explanatory frameworks. There is also an emergent literature on the role of celebrity in non-Western fandom (see Lee et al. 2008; Yang 2009; Zhou 2013).

In Mission to Lars, Tom’s fannish desire helps to shift his representation beyond that of a disabled other (an anonymous medical subject who has inherited Fragile X). His fascination is specifically with Lars Ulrich, not anyone else; it indicates something specific about his personality. Tom’s fannish motivation for the “mission” is a point of association with the spectator; at one point, he and his sister met Metallica’s tour manager, who explains, “Everyone who goes to the show wants to meet Lars if they could,” adding that Tom needs a “contact on the inside … a triple A: access all areas pass. To get that you need to go right up the pole, right to the top.”

Having established fandom as a point of audience identification, Mission to Lars uses further fan stereotypes to explore Tom’s condition. Henry Jenkins (1992) has noted that media representations negatively portray fans as needing to “get a life” (p. 11). Tom is a manual laborer who recycles newspapers to make animal bedding. The film begins with him repeatedly saying “Meet Lars!” We find that Tom was previously obsessed by Arnold Schwarzenegger. The implication is that his fannish passions are compensations for a lack of growth in his personal life, whether in terms of social mobility or establishing intimate relations. In Mission to Lars, the phrase “get a life” therefore takes on an unusual hue, as it is related to the social stigmatization that the disabled can face. Because of Tom’s impairment and the way that Fragile X sufferers are treated socially, he has not had access to the social opportunities shared by his siblings and faces greater challenges than most in his bid to “get a life.”

Another stereotypical idea about fandom is that it takes the form of a clinical compulsion. For Jenkins (1992), this is reflected in portrayals that cast fans as “social misfits who have become so obsessed with the [television] show that it forecloses other types of social experience” (p. 10). Kate Spicer raises this issue when she interviews various experts as part of the documentary and its DVD supplement. For instance, Dr. Randi Hagerman - a Fragile X specialist from UC Davis - is given a sagacious, helper role in the Spicer’s quest:

Kate Spicer: Is Tom genuinely “crazy mad” to meet him, or is it just a kind of behavioral tick?

Dr. Hagerman: No—he is “crazy mad” to meet Lars, because individuals with Fragile X can oftentimes have very intense interest areas. Very intense. And that’s the really exciting aspect of how they get enthused with life.

The term “crazy mad” is passed across like a verbal baton. It creates a conceptual space in which meaningless obsession (“a behavioral tick”) is separated from a “genuine” impulse to meet Lars, something which itself is therefore considered both insane (“crazy mad”) and fannish (a genuine need to connect). When Kate Spicer interviewed Lars Ulrich for a Mission to Lars DVD extra, she further focused on this question of fan stereotyping and obsession. Their encounter revealed that Ulrich himself flew from Los Angeles to London to see the metal band Diamondhead and ended up staying with them for six weeks, learning how to be in a band. The famous drummer’s personal fandom is framed as professionally productive. It raises a broader question: How should music fandom be seen? Kate’s perception seemed to be that fandom was acceptable as a step toward something else (such as employment), but unacceptable (“crazy mad”) as a goal in itself. She therefore asked, “Do you think that fandom is a kind of pathological, obsessional type behavior, or—?” Lars replied:

Err, I’m not sure what the clinical term is, but maybe—I don’t know—it’s “obsessed.” When I’m into something, I’m just really into it. So “obsessive behavior”? Sure, why not? I’ll go along with that sound bite.

In other words, fan obsession is positioned as something that is both a little insane (a clinically labeled disorder) and also familiar. In that dual sense, it is a source of mirth. The shared predicament of having a fan object of one’s own aligns those who have autism with able-bodied spectators. Disabled fans are dreamers, just like us.

Although Mission to Lars assumes that desiring to meet one’s hero is a normal, and therefore a normalizing form of behavior, it still frames fandom as a clinical disorder. While Tom is evidently a Metallica fan—he wears the t-shirt—in the film his obsession to “meet Lars” is understood outside of any other fan practices or forms of sociability. At one point, Kate asks Tom, “If you meet Lars, will you stop saying you want to meet Lars all the time?” Tom appears unable to drop persistent thoughts. He therefore expresses a fannish desire through a clinical compulsion. This association adds to the drama of the narrative, because it helps us question the extent to which Tom’s expression of interest in meeting Lars reflect his fandom, his mental condition, or, perhaps, later on, a way of expressing his identity in relation to family members. The film interprets Tom’s fascination with Metallica as a form of social compensation (his life lacks “adventure”) but sees his expression of it as a compulsive disorder stemming from his medical condition.

Passive fandom and the danger of speaking for the disabled

Between 1977 and 1998, BBC Radio 4 broadcast a program called Does He Take Sugar? As its title implied, unless the able-bodied are challenged to review their assumptions, they can easily place disabled individuals in an infantile role, framing them as people unable to do things for themselves, display any initiative, or even respond at all. The widespread assumption that the disabled must be spoken for can mean, however, that they do not have a say. Mission to Lars confronts this issue of patronizing the disabled head on. It explores the potential folly of viewing a disabled person as an object who has to be managed for his own good.

If the wish to meet a celebrity is a relatively common one, the degree to which any individual actually pursues it can, of course, vary greatly, depending on his or her values, motivations, peer network, agency, and dedication. It is significant that Tom does not actually create his mission. Instead it is planned as a kind of gift from his siblings. In other words, Mission to Lars initially portrays Tom’s fandom as pure desire: something despite which he remains isolated, inactive, and able to act only when as...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Halftitle Page
• Title Page
• Dedication Page
• Contents 
• List of Figures
• List of Tables
• Foreword: Orlando the Fangirl
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction: Seeing Fans
• Part One: Documenting Fans: Shades of Reality
• Spotlight On: Crazy about One Direction
• Part Two: Fictional Fans: Reading between the Lines
• Spotlight On: Fan and Transmedia Works
• Part Three: Cultural Perspectives on Fan Representations
• Part Four: Global Perspectives on Fan Representations
• Afterword: Participating in Hybrid Media Logics?
• Editor and Contributor Bios
• Bibliography
• Index
• Imprint