A blog of esoteric media criticism, laying siege to the Ivory Tower of academia from the gutters of pop culture
Most modern criticism agrees, audiences have a lot of interpretive say. So why do people still talk about media like it's being inflicted on them? Sink your teeth into the difficult films No Country for Old Men and Nosferatu and learn to get your agency back as an audience.
Art, any art, has its subject, and then it has what it thinks about that subject, but "what it thinks" doesn't sit in the art's brain--it hasn't got one, after all--but our brains, the audience's. "What it thinks" is convenient shorthand, really, for a whole relationship, between the artwork itself, the creators and what motivated its creation, the audience and what motivates their reception, and the whole context they all find themselves in. But the text also has qualities, relatively objective contents, and those contents restrict the possibility space of "what it thinks". It would be rude to imagine a bunch of scenes in a novel that never happened and claim the original text says something based on them; we can't put words in art's mouth--it hasn't got one, after all. We do speak for a text, though, and a text speaks for us. We have agency. Older forms of interpretation viewed art as a series of objective authorial intents bundled into a message beamed into our skulls, but most modern interpretive theories agree, more or less, that the audience puts work into understanding. Somehow, the way we talk about art in broader culture, particularly online, hasn't caught up. That shorthand gets taken at face value, as though the message of art (or advertisements, news articles, press releases, scientific studies, press secretary statements...) is obvious, requiring no engagement from us. I've had people scoff and say I'm misusing language when I apply the word "literacy" to this idea. Maybe that's comforting. Having agency means taking responsibility, sometimes responsibility for having a bad time, or for just being wrong. You ever come out of a movie and turn to the people you're with and say, "hey so what was that... about?" At that moment, you might find out you're alone with your interpretation--that you effectively watched a different movie from everyone else! With all the fearsome experiences art offers, and all its attendant social anxiety, why not wrestle some control back by reinterpreting yourself as a victim of art's impositions? I don't think that feeling of control lasts, though. If anything, in the long term it makes art seem like a contagion vector, full of potentially dirty feelings and memes. Media "literacy" partly just means engaging art confidently, instead of feeling like art's being imposed on you. To feel that kind of confidence, though, takes practice, and it's a hard skill to teach, at least if what you're actually testing for is a set of "objective" repeatable metrics. A lot of English classes seem to teach a straightforward "x means y" relationship between symbols or metaphors and their meaning. In response to that kind of disempowering rote formula approach, some people reassert their agency by just... pretending nothing means anything, which feels defiant and powerful, but cuts down everything they can say about art to "Yes!" and "No!" What can this kind of audience do when a work puts two characters in contention, has them spell out a core worldview disagreement, and offers a question: who is right? They can only fall back on reliable common sense (you know, all the unexamined stuff they've absorbed from culture and the people around them, or just their gut emotional responses), arriving at what they believe is the obvious only answer. Too bad, because one of the best ways to train your interpretive agency muscles is looking at exactly those moments of character disagreement. Like, take a look at Anton Chigurh and Carla Jean Moss in No Country For Old Men, maybe, sure. It's a popular movie, a great, iconic scene, and fun to talk about, so let's take a look. At the end of the movie, Anton Chigurh, philosopher-hitman, is going to kill this basically innocent woman; it sucks, and we all hate it, right? I guess it's a bit more than a character disagreement. But it is a disagreement in the sense that they're gonna have a conversation before Chigurh and Carla Jean go to their respective fates, and that conversation is pivotal to the question of what the movie is "about".
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