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Post card from Coney Island

All of our authors this week tackle the changing cultural landscape of turn-of-the-century America, which witnesses the emergence of a mass culture that often superseded older cultural forms. In particular, each author is concerned with whether or not these changes in the way culture was produced and consumed were democratic in nature. Larry Levine in Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America, sees a transformation from the heterogeneous audiences of American theater in the 19^th century to the tightly controlled highbrow entertainments of the elites, saying, “Art was becoming a one-way process: the artist communicating and the audience receiving” (195). No longer did audiences participate in the performances of material such as Shakespeare or operas, but instead, as dictated by elite tastes, sat in silent reverence to watch inflexible performances of these now-dubbed classics. For Levine, the elites responded to the disorder of urbanization and massive immigration by placing strict controls on cultural forms.

            But culture and art did not transform into a one-way process of creation and reception as Levine claims. It’s true that cultural categories are contingent upon their historical context, and Levine does a convincing jobs of tracing the movement of cultural forms from one category to another. But culture did not completely lose its democratic nature, and other authors trace the dialectic between cultural forms and cultural receivers by studying the new forms of mass amusement that emerged at the turn-of-the-century. Most interesting is the tension between Progressive reformers’ impulse to educate the immigrant and working classes and these same group’s wholesale embrace of new cultural forms. In his study of Coney Island, Amusing the Island: Coney Island at the Turn of the Century, John Kasson begins by examining the City Beautiful Movement and the Chicago Columbian Exposition of 1893. Planners intended Central Park and the White City to pastoralize and instill awe in their visitors, but the Midway Plaisance, harbinger of Coney Island, overflowed with visitors.

Luna Park, one of Coney Island’s most popular amusement parks. The park’s electric illumination could be seen from miles away.

Indeed, these new amusements, like Coney Island, brought heterogeneous groups of Americans together at the same time that Levine observes a cultural bifurcation. Mass amusements may have controlled and guided visitors through the walls of their amusement parks and the mores of social behavior, but Americans, especially the working class, voted with their pockets and their feet as to which cultural forms they enjoyed most. Further, Coney Island and other new public spaces of amusement allowed Americans to mix with each other and create new heterosocial spaces. The argument can validly be made that vendors programmed leisure time just as readily as employers programmed work time, but at least the illusion of choice existed for those seeking pleasure in Coney Island and other public amusements.

Kathy Piess captures the dichotomy between freedom of choice and oppression in her book Cheap Amusements: Working Women and Leisure in Turn of the Century New York. As wage earners, working class (immigrant) women found themselves with the capital to participate in the new culture of mass amusements and mass production. Women used their newfound economic freedom (or semi-freedom, depending on whether or not part of their wages went to their families) to purchase fashionable clothing or take part in new social amusements, like dance halls and movies. This allowed them a new freedom in leisure time, a relative social autonomy that they had not experienced when cultural and economic norms dictated they work and socialize in the private sphere. The so-called freedom came with a price, however, as the ability to participate in these new social forms did not prove to be as affordable as at first appeared. Often women starved themselves to save enough money to enjoy leisure time and, even more predominantly, a system of treating arose where men paid women’s way in exchange for sexual favors. This system created a delicate balancing act for women, who had to reciprocate to men without tarnishing their honor.

Patrons pose for a picture at a turn of the century dance hall.

Even as old cultural forms bifurcated into low and high, new cultural forms emerged to fill the vacuum, creating new standards of behavior, freedom of choice, and instances of oppression. Every mechanized reproduction meant that cultural forms lost their aura as cultural products moved further from the original. Like Theodor Adorno, elites tried to preserve the aura of cultural artifacts they deemed genuine and classic by isolating them from the rowdy masses and dictating to those who participated how they should imbibe things like Shakespeare, opera, and art pieces. But as observed by Benjamin, mass culture allowed a new class consciousness to arise. It may not have been revolutionary, but the working class and immigrants, especially young people like young women, emerged as demographic markets to be both catered to and taken advantage of. Culture remained a highly contested place one of newfound choice and carefully calculated limitation.

How are memories formed and how do they shape our understanding of the past, and in this case, history in particular? Maurice Halbwachs believes that memory is a social institution, a set of individual memories constructed out of personal experience but, more importantly, out of information learned from social groups of which people are a part of. Halbwachs raises a crucial debate in the field of memory studies that seeks to delineate and synthesize the relationship between individual and collective memory. Historians seek to examine the relationship between the two, and to explain how memories influence not only the way events are remembered collectively, but the way that histories are written.

David Blight’s Race and Reunion is a model work in this project. In this monograph, Blight traces the ways in which differing narratives about (or collective memories of) the Civil War competed to become the dominant national memory of the war’s events and aftermath, and eventually the dominant historical narrative (until historians in the 1960s began work to uncover forgotten narratives and competing memories). Adroitly, Blight demonstrates how individual memories shaped social memories to write the dominant narrative and then how, interestingly, these dominant narratives created a kind of cultural amnesia surrounding the role of African Americans and slavery in the war. Though reception is a tricky problem, Blight’s wide range of sources demonstrates a breadth of information defining how competing groups in post-Civil War America came together to shape the Lost Cause narrative of the Civil War. Blight’s book is an intriguing work of history as well as a thorough investigation into the way collective memories are formed. Though there is evidence of the role of individual memories in the narrative, it is not Blight’s project to demonstrate how collective memory shapes individual memory.

In this way, Blight is attempting to do the opposite of what Alison Landsberg does in her book Prosthetic Memory. Landsberg’s goal is to trace how collective memories can be transferred to individuals through the means of mass media so that their consiousnesses will be altered to create what she dubs “prosthetic memories.” For Landsberg, these memories are meant to inspire empathy in the receiver that will then allow this individual to take empathetic action not possible before the implanting of this memory. Landsberg’s argument is extremely provocative, but it raises many questions. For example, as raised in our discussion, what is the difference between memory and knowledge? Can an experiential museum like the Holocaust Museum really implant memories of the event in a person who has no previous experience of the Holocaust Museum, or is it simply imparting knowledge to the visitor? How can one “have” an experience that they have never actually experienced? And while Landsberg’s book is more a work of presentism, she provides no historical examples of this process being successfully carried out. There are problems of reception – she provides no proof through investigation of these supposed memory receivers that historical actors’ consciousnesses were actually changed. Whereas Blight’s book traces a demonstrable history, Landsberg’s only posits an interesting possibility with no proof of concept. She might argue that Halbwachs social groups have been transformed into mass media culture that helps shape the memories of previously disparate peoples, but even in Halbwachs’ formulation the individual must have individual memories with which to corroborate social memories. For Landsberg this is not so.

For me the most confounding work on collective memory which we read was Lipsitz’s Time Passages. Lipsitz argues that popular culture such as TV and rock and roll keep alive collective memories of groups who are not part of the hegemonic discourse, for example working class immigrants and African Americans. This idea of counter-narratives is provocative because it demonstrates how popular culture can be a dialectic. But it also raises the question: once these forms are synthesized into popular culture, don’t they lose their place as a counter-narrative? There is no work on reception – we hear nothing from cultural receivers about the way they processed the narrative of these cultural forms. And there is no work on cultural amnesia – how there forms may have their counter-narratives erased once they are absorbed into the mainstream. Demonstrating that popular culture can be a repository or reflection of collective memory is a valid project, but often gets lost in Lipsitz’s confusing and incomplete presentation.

This semester I’m taking two independent readings courses to satisfy the requirements of my minor fields. One of the courses, Popular Culture and Collective Memory, requires that I write reaction papers to my weekly readings and discussions. As a thought exercise, I will be posting them here.

When Walter Benjamin writes about the “Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” his argument about the usefulness of mass culture is not always initially clear. As I originally did, some read it as a lament about the loss of the aura of the authentic in regards to traditional cultural forms, i.e. paintings. But what Benjamin is really doing is marginalizing the function of the traditional cultural form in favor of new mass cultural forms. As Benjamin begins his essay, he writes in the Marxist tradition, and believes mass culture is the new vehicle which will help engender mass consciousness within the working class, who will experience class consciousness as a result of experiencing this mass culture.

The question then becomes: why didn’t this happen? It might be argued that mass culture was not prevalent enough in the 1930s at the time of Benjamin’s writing, and only now do we see a wide enough spread of mass cultural forms through processes like cultural globalization that might successfully engender a working class consciousness. But Benjamin does not address the problem of cultural hegemony as raised by Antonio Gramsci. Can class consciousness be raised if the masses are simply buying into the capitalist messages being fed to them by the capitalist cultural producers that they are embedding in their products, i.e. the star system of film, etc.?

Theodor Adorno takes a much more negative view of mass culture than Benjamin, who he is responding to directly. He believes mass culture is an instrument that keeps the masses passive, and that mass culture follows a set formula that is meant to do so. For him, traditional culture like art is an important way to express individualism, to challenge individuals in their thinking and to encourage them to actively engage with a cultural form instead of passively imbibing it (of which Benjamin would say the complete opposite).

How do these views of the advent of mass culture help us understand the study of mass and popular culture? How can we apply them to case studies of mass and popular culture, i.e. film and popular music? And as Gramsci and Lears, and also Levine inquire, how does this help us judge the content of mass and popular culture? Content matters, and though Adorno and Benjamin are fundamental theorists of the field, they do not really examine the content of mass and popular culture. Levine makes an important distinction when he calls for analyzing the content along the folkloric tradition to see how mass culture engenders both individual and collective consciousness. For him mass and popular culture are not supposed to lead to a revolution but instead reflect the way people think about themselves.

It is important for historians of popular culture to remember that popular culture is a dialectical process, not just a hegemony, in which “the masses” and cultural producers speak to one another through the process of consumption to help shape popular culture together. It is correct to say that people buy into dominant culture forms, but they help shape these dominant cultural forms because their consumption dictates the forms that popular culture takes. On the other hand, the range of choice is provided from those selected by cultural producers. In this way popular culture is a joint project.

As to whether or not popular culture is a revolutionary force, arguments can be made for both sides. High culture is important to challenging audiences and promoting individualism, but neither Adorno no Benjamin address the ways in which high culture can become mass or popular culture, i.e. myriad reproductions of the Mona Lisa. This capacity challenges the way we think of aura. Does a piece of artwork retain its aura if it is reproduced in this way? Does it remain both high and popular culture? We can see other mass apparatuses fermenting revolution, such as the internet and social media has during the Arab Spring, but what kind of consciousness are these movements engendering? Perhaps more importantly, are they successful? And are mass cultural forms like film playing a role in these revolutions?

As noted, the most important thing to take away from all of these readings is that mass/popular culture is a process. The masses and cultural producers speak to another other, just as audiences both engage with and receive cultural forms. Mass cultural forms are capable of producing new consciousnesses, but they are not always mass consciousnesses, and the mass consciousnesses can be passive or active. The individual can also take an active role in mass culture. And hegemony is not a static condition, it is also a process in which different groups exert control and individuals and masses find meaning.

So I have a habit of watching bad movies and live tweeting as I go along. Usually my commentary ends there, but I think I have more to say about my most recent subject, Showgirls.

A round table article found in Film Quarterly on JSTOR presents many different takes on the film. The authors try to unpack Showgirls through the lens of trash or cult cinema, attempting to analyze the film as a serious text, even though most admit the film is terrible. Sometimes, though, we can learn the most about ourselves through the products of our culture that we deem to be the worst. As this film came out in 1995, I’m not going to try to historicize it in my analysis. I was only 10 years old, and all I remember about the movie’s debut was trying to reconcile the Saved by the Bell reruns I watched with this snark that was circulating about poor Jessie Spano.

What I do want to do, however, is share briefly my thoughts on women and power in this movie. It’s no secret that this movie was a deliberate exploration of the sexual power of women. Nomi, he main character, is presented as a bad ass chick who no one should fuck with, but all of the power she has in the film is physical, be it sexual power (which is most of the time) or when she’s quite literally kicking ass. There’s no in-between for Nomi – it’s either fight or fuck.

All the power women have in this film comes from their overt sexuality. Nomi’s sometimes rival, Crystal, loses her power when her body is physically damaged, which also renders her sexual power inert. On the flip side, Nomi not only dances her way to the top, she fucks her way to the top, and orchestrates Crystal’s downfall by pushing her down the stairs. She is the agent who damages Crystal’s sexual power in order to bolster her own.

So what does this sexual power tell us? Should we celebrate this film as a triumphant unleashing of women’s sexuality, or is it simply softcore porn working to stroke the patriarchal male ego? All the positions of power are, after all, fulfilled and guarded by men in this film, and the way Nomi gains her power is partially through fulfilling the sexual fantasies of the men around her through lap dances or actual sex.

There’s also the troubling subject of rape in this film. One character who has no control in the film at all is Nomi’s African American roommate portrayed throughout the film as asexual and, as noted in the round table discussion, fulfilling a service role. When her character attempts to become sexualized, she is punished by being gang raped. Like in real life, no one calls the police on her attackers, in large part due to the fact that one of them is a famous pop star. Even though the film presents the act as wrong, it doesn’t right the wrong by seeing legal recourse.

The narrative is further problematized when Nomi enacts a rape revenge fantasy, literally kicking the shit out of Nomi’s most famous attacker. Here again we see female power being demonstrated through physical prowess, but the troubling nature of the rape itself, which could play like a fantasy in its own right, overshadows Nomi’s actions, leaving them as more problematic than cathartic.

At the end of the day it’s hard to read this film as any sort of liberation for women in general or for the women in it. Some of the authors in the round table discussion argue that Showgirls is purposeful camp, that Jessie Spano’s overacting is mean to embody Nomi’s over the top character. It’s hard to find agency for Nomi outside her sexuality, which leaves her to be rather one dimensional, and the patriarchy reins supreme as men take up positions of power and dictate things like whether or not someone can report a brutal rape to the police. Nomi and the women around her are more trapped in the system by their sexuality than liberated.

In any case, Showgirls is an interesting, if sometimes baffling watch. It’s a difficult film to unpack, and I don’t know if I agree that it was purposefully campy. But then again, it’s hard to discount the theory that the director didn’t know he was making a film so over the top.