How do you study a fan?

Matt Hills (2002) in his paper on “Fan cultures between knowledge and justification” discusses the use of ethnographies to study the idea of “the fan” and research the area of fandom. He debates the validity of the “justifications” made by fans, and questions why so many ethnographers take these justifications as fact. Hills claims that often ethnographers empty the notion of fandom of all of the dimensions within it that make it what it is – be this affect, attachment and even passion.

He highlights the flaws in the “significantly affective nature of the fan’s attachment” to their particular field, and suggests that it cannot be assumed that fandom actually creates a “self-presence and transparent self-understanding”; which academic study so desperately needs to produce effective results.

Hills then goes on to discuss how over-whelming a fan’s feelings can be about their chosen field, quoting Harrington and Bielby (1995) as saying:

“...the pleasure can be so intense that it almost cannot be articulated by those experiencing it.”

He states that the question “Why are you a fan of...?” itself actually causes the fan to try and express their feelings of their chosen field in some form of justification, which can only lead to an untrue interpretation by the ethnographer. This “auto-legitimation” of a fan’s response to such a question is what Hills believes allows the ethnographer to pass off their interpretation of what the fan has said as being an over-ruling “knowledge” that only a true fan could possess.

He believes that fandom is often reduced to nothing more than a mental activity, “occurring without passion, without feeling, [and] without an experience of... self-transformation.” Hills insists that he is not claiming that fans cannot discuss their feelings in a meaningful manner, but says that he is instead trying to emphasise that “fan-talk cannot be accepted merely as evidence of fan knowledge.”

Hills gives the example of the Doctor Who fandom, which was studied by Michael Hasslet (1994). Hasslet describes the Who fandom as being a community which constantly presents particular justifications of its love of the programme, to serve the basic purpose of defending the fans’ attachment to the show against external criticism. Hills says the most common use of justification by a fan is toward off public (or “outsider”) belief that the fan’s feelings are irrational. It is a protection method at best.

He feels that it is therefore impossible to use the fan’s own so-called “knowledge” and “justifications” to provide a source of meaning for their own media consumption. Hills describes this belief by ethnographers that fan’s can fully account for their fandom as a “fallacy of internality”. He deeply criticises this fallacy, stating that:

“This “fallacy of internality” neglects the extent to which internal fan community understandings are collectively negotiated precisely in order to ward off the taint of irrationality, and in order to present a public and rationalised face to the world outside of fan culture. The fallacy of internality assumes that the “in-group” is a source of pristine knowledge. It neglects the social dynamics whereby the culturally devalued “in-group” of media fandom is compelled to account for its passions.”

Hills talks about the work of Camille Bacon-Smith, who engaged in a long process of participant observation with sections of the Star Trek fan culture, and is thought to be a prime example of how “real” fan ethnography should be conducted (Henry Jenkins, 1996). Bacon-Smith deeply immerses herself in the fandom of Star Trek, and although she presented herself in her findings as the outsider, so acknowledges that the fan’s within this particular fandom eventually began to see her more as one of their own by the end of her study. She’s quoted as saying:

“When the investigator gets too close, the community sidetracks with something of value, something that conserves the risk the ethnographer knows is present but that does not expose too much.” (Bacon-Smith, 1992)

What is particularly interesting about the way Bacon-Smith conducts her ethnography is that she positions herself as a kind of detective, who is there to seek out knowledge and present it to other outsiders of the fandom. Her version of events about her time researching the Star Trek fandom fits entirely into Pierre Bayard’s analysis of the detective novel. If we apply his theory to that of the experience had by bacon-Smith we find that “...the principle of truth hidden by its obviousness. It is not that the truth is made unrecognisable, but that the false ... is dressed up to draw attention to itself” (Bayard 2000).

Hills goes on to discuss the way that many ethnographers are “unable to construct more complex characteristics of fan culture beyond a sense of “communal conspiracy” to be battled by the detective-ethnographer, or a sense of “communal creativity” to be recognised and valued by the scholar-fan.” He quotes Van Maanen as saying:

“...literary tales may be so tied to the representational techniques of realistic fiction that they distort the very reality they seek to capture” (Maanen 1998)

This loosely translates into the fandom debate as saying that ethnographers often become too engrossed in the fiction behind the field of fandom they are studying, that they actually lose sight of the reality they are attempting to uncover.

What are we paying you for?

I mean how hard is it really? Film directors get paid thousands of pounds to make and direct a movie, it’s what they have been trained to do, and it’s what they are supposed to be the best at. So how come they can’t seem to keep the bloopers out of certain films?

Take the film “X-Men Origins: Wolverine” for example. Whilst in Africa, Agent Zero starts shooting and when he throws his pistols in the air, the slides are open, but just before he catches his pistols the slides are closed. This film is jam-packed with fancy fight scenes and incredible action sequences, and yet the directors seem to have missed something as simple as the slides on the character’s guns being open one minute and closed the next.

Speaking of things that are there one minute and gone the next, Disney’s eagerly awaited 3D animated movie “Up” makes a blunder in this department. When the bulldozer hits character Carl’s mailbox, you can see the bulldozer in the first shot, but it disappears after that. What really surprised me about this mistake was the fact that as this is an animated movie; you would think the illustrator would have remembered to just keep on drawing the bulldozer until the end of the scene!

It’s not just new releases that are failing to be blunder-free, as classics like the Terminator trilogy, the American Pie set and The Pirates of the Caribbean collection have all made some pretty big mistakes in their time.

The directors of “Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines” make a silly and easily avoidable mistake by not paying enough attention to the numbers on the side of the planes used in the film. When characters John and Catherine are in the hanger at the runway, the plane’s tail number is N3035C, but when the plane is shown in the air, the number has magically changed to N3973F. This is only worsened by the fact that when they land, the plane’s tail number has changed back to N3035C.

The first of the American Pie films seconds the lack of attention paid by directors that I have just mentioned, during the infamous “bedroom scene”. The girl is first seen holding a clear cup full of beer, but when the camera moves away and comes back to her, she is holding a blue cup. The camera goes off the girl again and when it comes back on her for a second time, she is holding a clear cup again.

Whilst these constant switches between the appearance of an object are an obvious example of the director’s lack of attention to detail and continuity, they are not quite as bad as the blunder made in “Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl”. Character Jack Sparrow is saying, “On deck, you scabrous dogs”, and directly over his left shoulder is a film crew member – in a tan cowboy hat, white t-shirt and sunglasses – just stood staring out to sea; completely unaware that he is in the shot!

I can understand that mistakes can easily occur during the immense process of cutting, editing and slicing together the different shots and angles of a certain scene – but why do directors not spot these obvious errors during the checking and screening processes? Even at preschool you were taught to check and double-check your work for mistakes, so you really would think that professional film directors and editors would have the common sense to check and double-check their work for mistakes!

I say move over movie moguls, as you clearly just aren’t cutting it. Bring on a new breed of director; one who pays attention to detail, understands the meaning of the word “continuity” and its importance in the film production business, and one who has the ability to spot their errors and correct them before the film is released. Now is that really too much to ask of these directors who are so highly paid and respected? I don’t think so.