The Prolongation of Work

Picture: two enemy groups, battling for prestige and engaged in a spiteful war until a scandalous love blossoms between a young male and female from the opposing sides, eventually resolving the group’s conflicts. Now, name that plot– a tricky task, as there are dozens of modern titles that present this familiar love-versus-war dilemma. It’s a commonly used theme and plot line in cultural products, with Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet widely credited as the origin. Much of modern culture is simply repackaged; art that proves successful is twisted, modernized, copied, and fed to the consumer again. Materials are repeatedly disguised under new movie titles, new star characters, or new settings. Cultural critics argue that economic success in production is valued over the public’s desires and imaginations; the culture industry and producers are entirely absorbed in what will make money, even when this results in products that are entirely lacking in variety and creativity (Adorno). Superficially, these arguments present our culture in an entirely negative and somewhat hopeless light, but this is simply not the case– there is still hope for our culture, however much it may recycle concepts. It is important not to confuse a lack of originality with a lack of worth; our culture still has value despite its repetitive qualities.

Romeo and Juliet is a tale of jinxed love. Both man and wife commit suicide shortly after marriage due to an unfortunate miscommunication in Shakespeare’s famous tragedy in the midst of a raging family feud between the Capulets and Montagues. The familial conflict twists and thickens when Montague son Romeo and Capulet heartthrob Juliet lock eyes and fall in love. However, miscommunications lead Romeo to believe that his beloved Juliet is dead, so he poisons himself. Juliet follows suit, as when she sees Romeo dead, she stabs herself, and the lovers die unlucky deaths. The tragedy is heart-wrenching, and it is painful as the deaths unfold, especially because they are caused by fickle family feuds. The families do eventually throw aside their differences in honor of their losses once they realize their foolishness, however.

While it is maddening to watch both Romeo and Juliet die mistakenly, the deaths strike a chord in the heart of the consumer and make us resent the family feud. Thus the tale pushes for love, and emphasizes the pointlessness of fighting, a meaning that culminates in the deaths of two innocent lovebirds. This valuable moral leads us to why recycling culture is an accepted practice. Relevant to this day as violence is so precedent in the world, the lessons of Romeo and Juliet are applicable anywhere. Furthermore, because the morals behind the story are so applicable, the tale can be versatile– and successful– in the same ways. As long as we continue learning from Romeo and Juliet and other classics, producers will continue to churn them out in new and surprising ways.

Theatre World Award-winning Broadway show West Side Story, for example, features a battle between the Puerto Rican “Shark” gang and the all-white “Jet” gang based on New York City’s West Side that is eventually mediated by a beautiful relationship between Jet Tony and Shark Maria.

Another popular Broadway show, Grease, which showed for eight years– quite a run for Broadway– delivered a similar message as summer lovers Danny and Sandy end up at the same high school, where their romance is tested by clique lines. However, in a heartwarming musical finale to the catchy tune of “We Go Together”, the lovers are reunited despite their clique boundaries. Love trumps all, especially when accompanied by a Broadway dance riff.

Romeo and Juliet’s storyline has also entered into the modern movie industry. Warm Bodies is a 2013 film based on the 2010 novel that takes “love versus war” to the vampire level, as vampire R falls for human Julie– interesting name selections by author Isaac Marion. Their relationship catalyzes a human versus vampire fight and is the beginning of a peaceful coexistence. Another modernized Romeo and Juliet tale, Romeo Must Die presents a kung-fu war between the Asian and black gangs. The film ends peacefully when– guess what– Asian macho man Han falls for African-American Trish.

Even modern cartoons are getting in on the action. Gnomeo and Juliet is a garden gnome spinoff in which red-hat gnomes fight blue-hat gnomes, until one fantastically moon-lit night when red-hat Juliet meets blue-hat Gnomeo. They, of course, fall in love, eventually bringing peace and love to the garden. Lion King 2 also features an animated Romeo and Juliet-like tale. Lion leader Simba’s daughter Kiara falls in love with Kovu, a banished lion. Kovu and Kiara’s beautiful relationship eventually sparks peace amongst the clans, and all of the lions live happily ever after.

Everyone loves this kind of story; even cartoon lions and gnomes are now getting in on the romantic Romeo and Juliet love-trumps-violence lesson. There are hundreds of spinoffs in various forms and genres out there in today’s culture– even Shakespeare’s version was based on an older poem. Producers simply can’t help themselves from recycling what’s proven successful, and they’ll feed consumers classics like Romeo and Juliet forever if it works (Adorno). The industries are looking for money, and they fire out movies and books at a relentless pace. Not only is it easier to reproduce an idea than to make something original, but it is also economically safer to build upon a basic tale that has already earned its place in the hearts of the masses. Success is practically guaranteed, furthermore, when a product’s base is a tale as beloved as Romeo and Juliet. However, this trend is not only applicable to this particular Shakespeare piece, as story reproduction in general has been greatly successful and has brought about countless renditions of all types of products. Essentially, a huge portion of modern cultural products are simply reproductions of older literature and ideas (Adorno). Our culture is indeed quite repetitive.

Consequently, modern culture gets a bad rap because of the nature of these retellings. Gnomeo and Juliet, for example, is the recipient of many bad reviews not only because it is a retelling of a story that everyone knows already, but also because it appears to trivialize the lessons presented by the great Shakespeare in his timeless classic Romeo and Juliet. This is the case with many modern retellings. Furthermore, sometimes the lessons presented by modern cultural pieces are considered lessers to those of old literature (Leavis)– a view that is rather unfounded, because if our culture is truly an endless recycling circle, then these “bad” lessons presented in modern culture have origins in these idealized “classics”. It is for these reasons that culture, foolishly, will not accept many modern pieces as its own. These accusations of lack of originality and worth that are cast upon modern cultural products, however, are not deserved.

The repetitive nature of modern culture does indeed entail the reflection of many of the same lessons, but that does not take away their value. The values behind Romeo and Juliet— that love is more powerful than war– provide an extremely important life lesson. Modern times are pockmarked by the countless acts of terror we’ve experienced recently, from school shootings to marathon bombings, rapes, ISIS, cop violence, and everything in between. Consequently, we all could use a pleasant story of love to remind us that violence is bad and love and peace can prevail. It’s a lesson we forget sometimes, and one that the world desperately needs to remember. Humans tend to forget the lessons they have been taught, so there is no harm in a quick review. Although superficially, the sameness of culture is depressing and makes product consumption feel pointless, there is still value in ideas that may have been repeated.

Additionally, while Shakespeare might have been horrified if he knew that his classic Romeo and Juliet tale was being remade with the help of gnomes and lions, it speaks to the power of the tale that such products are out there. Clearly, people appreciate the lesson enough for it to have been so timelessly popular, and now it can be even more transcendental. Anyone can learn from Romeo and Juliet’s love nowadays, regardless of originality. The versatile methods of lesson delivery can also simply reach a large audience– young children can begin to learn the value of love and peace amidst violence if they watch Gnomeo and Juliet, whereas a Shakespeare reader must be educated and much older to see through the tragedy’s complex wording and fully appreciate the meaning. Those of all walks of life can now appreciate the lesson of Romeo and Juliet because of the volume of its renditions.

Furthermore, it is easier for a consumer to relate to a product when it connects to their own life, so having many different styles of presentations drastically increases the reach of the lessons. Romeo Must Die, for example, will likely hit home with an African-American whose life has been touched by racial violence more so than Shakespeare’s version. Grease works in the same way, as a popularity-driven teenager might be able to see past class lines and exclusion to the value of love more so than he or she would be able to by reading a dense book. Additionally, we must address the idea that people forget things they are taught. Most high schoolers read Romeo and Juliet, and are led to the meaning behind it, but they will likely forget what they have learned about love and life until they watch the West Side Story play years later. The heart can still be warmed by a concept it has already experienced; the lessons will simply be refreshed and deepened upon each new experience. Therefore, there is true value in the variety of presentations of classic tales that consumers have access to in modern culture.

This variety is due to the endless recycling of material that has proven successful in the modern cultural industry. Producers identify the popular stuff– Romeo and Juliet, for example– and twist it in countless ways (West Side Story, Warm Bodies, Lion King 2, and many others) to continue to benefit economically, which leads to an apparent degradation of culture. Culture is shamed for its repetitive nature, but not deservingly. Although cultural products are increasingly similar, there is no harm in variations of the same idea– Gnomeo and Juliet gets the point across just as successfully as Shakespeare did. The basic stories are successful because they are valuable; they possess lessons and morals that everyone needs to learn and experience, like the importance of love and peace despite adversity. The recycled quality of Romeo and Juliet— and most other works of modern culture– brings significant variety to how consumers can experience the work and, therefore, increases the understanding and benefit derived from the lessons presented, as well as the audience to which these lessons are available and relatable to.

 

Works Cited

An Epic Tale on a Tiny Scale. Digital image. Gnomeo and Juliet Image Quotes. HippoQuotes, 2015. Web. 15 Oct. 2016.

Come, Death, and Welcome! Digital image. Movie Quotes. IMovie Quotes, 2015. Web. 15 Oct. 2016.

Grease Live Animated GIF. Digital image. Grease Live. Giphy, n.d. Web. 15 Oct. 2016.

Horkheimer, Max, and Theodor W. Adorno. “The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception.” Dialectic of Enlightenment: Philosophical Fragments. Ed. Gunzelin Schmid Noerr. Stanford, CA: Stanford UP, 2002. 94-136. Print.

Leavis, F.R. “Literature and Society.” The Common Pursuit. New York: George W. Stewart, 1952. 182-94. Print.

Romance in Gnomeo and Juliet. Digital image. Gnomeo and Juliet Image Quotes. HippoQuotes, 2015. Web. 15 Oct. 2016.

Tony and Maria. Digital image. Fanpop. Townsquare Entertainment News, 2016. Web. 15 Oct. 2016.

What Differences do you See? Digital image. Top Tumblr Posts. Rebloggy, Aug. 2014. Web. 15 Oct. 2016.

By Joyce Tseng

(Warning: This essay includes movie spoilers)

We’ve all heard the story. Boy meets girl, boy and girl hit it off, boy and girl conflict, boy and girl are lost without each other—often involving a lonely scene in the rain, a revelation occurs, boy and girl kiss and make up. Happily ever after. It is the predictable, cheesy love story that we can’t help but watch. Love is inextricable to the human experience of life; it is a pervasive component of our social world as we search for it, deny it, or are head over heels in it. Countless renditions of love and romance that exist in our culture perpetuate an idealistic, cliché notion of true love, which is to say that, happily ever after is always attained in the end by the perfect couple. Just take a look at Disney. For the majority of the current young, female adult population, the message drilled into our minds as children was that one day our own Prince Charming would come. We as a society have been indoctrinated to believe that we find the one, fall in love, and have a stable, committed relationship that is topped off with holy matrimony. This is how we have been taught to define love. This is what our culture tells us love looks like. Yet, this doesn’t seem to be the consensus anymore.

Romantic comedies have been one of the most enduring film genres through the history of cinema. Reflective of gender roles, social constructs of family, marriage, and love, romantic comedies have served as key indicators of political agendas and social attitudes towards the private sphere of love in a light-hearted, humorous manner. From William Wyler’s 1953 classic, Roman Holiday, staring Audrey Hepburn, to 21^st century films such as Love Actually and No Strings Attached, it is clear that romantic comedies have undergone a striking transition. We’ve seen the female lead occupy a more empowered role, an increased openness to sexuality, and even a disillusionment of the institution of marriage. Arguably, the purity and privacy of love have transcended into a raunchier, non-committal rendition. Perhaps this portrayal of love holds more true to our modern reality and escapes the predictable formula for love that is incessantly shredded by moviegoers and film critics of rom-coms.

Over the last decade, romantic comedies have been more or less the same, each following the conventions of the genre with their own variation. A staple for a rom-com is the “meet-cute.” This is when the two protagonists encounter for the first time, often under an awkwardly adorable circumstance that makes hearts flutter and the audience smile like idiots. Often a comic clash of personalities is presented during the meet-cute, falling in line with the notion that “opposites attract.” For instance, in Woody Allen’s classic Annie Hall (1977), Annie, portrayed by Diane Keaton, first converses with Alvy Singer at a clubhouse following a game of tennis set up by mutual friends. The exchange illustrates a contrived attempt to sync schedules with one another, laden with cringe-worthy lines. Annie asks Alvy if he would like a lift, Alvy agrees and asks where she’s headed; Annie says, “I’m going downtown,” to which Alvy says, “Oh, I’m going uptown.” Annie immediately changes her answer and says, “Oh, right! I’m going uptown too.” Alvy proceeds to question Annie why she initially said she was going downtown, resulting in a concoction of rambling and flirtation. Yet, the awkwardness doesn’t deter us, rather it persuades us to root for the couple.

Following the meet-cute, the characters go through obstacles of the narrative. One of the most common conflicts used is that of social rank or class. For instance, Audrey Hepburn plays a European princess who falls in love with an American reporter in Roman Holiday. Martha Coolidge’s The Prince and Me (2004) depicts the romance between a Danish prince and an American college girl, which stems from his attempts to escape his regal duties. Each film differs in what these obstacles specifically are, but they all share the resolution that the couple comes out the other end hand in hand. It is shown time and time again that the ingredients for true love are loyal commitment, an undying desire to empathize and understand each other, and original, meaningful romantic gestures. In the narrow realm of the romantic comedy narrative, these specific inputs guarantee the output of “happily ever after.”

I have a confession to make. I like to watch rom-coms because I can bank on a resolution. There is a certain mentality, or cinematic flavor one desires when choosing to watch a rom-com. It is a feel-good genre that leaves us with more faith and optimism in life’s path. However, on the opposite end is the romantic drama, which does not always end happily. Take Nicholas Sparks’ The Best of Me as an example. During my first viewing of the film, I spent a solid seventy percent of it sobbing and frustrated with Sparks’ literary decisions. The film tells the story of high school sweethearts, who drift apart, but reunite after many years following the death of a mutual friend. The film presents a series of flashbacks to their happier days as adolescents as well as their troubled origins. The male lead, Dawson, comes from a broken home dominated by his abusive, alcoholic father; the female lead is the pretty, witty, and relatively wealthy Amanda, who has micro-managing parents. A series of unfortunate events follow, including an accidental shooting of Dawson’s friend during a brawl between Dawson and his junkie father and brothers, jail time on Dawson’s part as a consequence, and Amanda’s unhappy marriage. Upon reuniting after many years, the two rekindle their romance. Dawson apologizes for neglecting Amanda during his imprisonment and confesses that she would eternally be the love of his life. Following their brief escape into the past, Amanda returns to her normal life, but before long, she has an epiphany to seek a divorce to return to Dawson. A dramatic voice message is left for him, detailing Amanda’s reciprocated love, but before this message reaches him, Dawson is shot dead by his father on the streets.

The Best of Me was one of the few movies that I couldn’t let go. I felt robbed by the story and its conclusion. When presented with a narrative that didn’t fit the traditional, idealistic social construct of love, it was unsettling and even distressing to accept. However, if we look at reality’s statistics, since the late 1960s divorce rates have been on the rise. After the presence of women in the workplace became more common, society showed a trend in delaying marriage. This social phenomenon also contributed to a new variation of comedy, referred to as “screwball comedy,” present in many rom-coms. Stemming from the 40s, the nuanced genre portrays the novel power play of the female as the dominant, rather than the male. Masculinity in the relationship is challenged, revealing a battle of the sexes and providing comic content. Old rom-coms that depicted the man as a sex-driven, flirtatious figure and the woman as the naïve damsel-in-distress role was no longer the case. For instance, The Proposal (2009) features a female high-powered editor who essentially blackmails her male secretary into forging an engagement with her in an attempt to evade impending deportation back to her home country, Canada. The woman here uses the male to serve her needs in between her work-driven existence. The modern-day consensus seems to be that career, especially the female’s career, takes priority of love and relationships, deviant from the traditional rom-com.

Another prevalent change is how rom-coms address sexuality. The “hook-up culture” currently spans from high school, well through into adult life, skewing the previously established chronology of romance. Casual sexual relationships and multiple-marriages are now more acceptable than the historically shown. Judd Apatow’s Trainwreck (2015) staring Amy Schumer claims to reflect this “modern” spin on romance. Following the life of Amy, a men’s magazine editor, the film is explicit in its message right off the bat. The opening scene, as well as its official trailer, features a flashback to Amy’s childhood when her father was informing his two middle-school daughters of his divorce with their mother. The father saliently directs the two young girls into reciting after him: “Monogamy isn’t realistic.” This concrete, unexpected claim is weirdly refreshing to see on a rom-com screen and forces us to adjust our palettes to consider an alternative way to experience love. As we fast forward through Amy’s adult life, we see the pattern of alcohol, drugs, and casual sex with a variety of random men. In the trailer, Amy proclaims, “I am just a modern chick who does what she wants.” It is worthwhile to recognize that though rom-coms reflect the attitudes of society towards love, it is more precise to say that it reflects society’s escapist fantasies and desires in relation to love. In Trainwreck, we see an independent woman with a stable job, with no committal ties to a single person; she is simply having fun exploring her sexuality.

The movie gets interesting when Amy is assigned to cover a story on a male sports surgeon (Aaron), to which the interview results in a dinner date and adult sleepover—an one-off event as Amy forbids herself to stay the night with any hook-up. In a farcical scene the morning after, Amy and her female coworker and friend panic when Aaron calls Amy. She immediately assumes that she was butt-dialed, but after learning that the call was intentional, the friend quickly says, “Hang up. He’s obviously, like, sick or something.” Following up to hang out after a night of sex is clearly portrayed to be a social no-no, ironically the reverse of what we have been wired to think.

The bulk of the movie shows Amy and Aaron’s relationship blossoming, despite her volatile familial situation. Having previously being drilled into believing that monogamy wasn’t realistic, her ailing, disapproving father takes a toll on her relationship with Aaron. The death of Amy’s father ultimately serves as the catalyst for Aaron and Amy to call it quits. Amy reverts back to her ways of drinking and partying, but she no longer sees any value in those ways. For a film that clearly sets itself up as a distinguisher from the rest of the rom-com pack, the conclusion is unsurprisingly familiar. Amy commits to a grand gesture of love, including a jumbotron and coordinated dance sequence with the Knicks City cheerleaders. She is successful and a triumphant pop tune accompanies the credits.

Similar to films like No Strings Attached and Friends with Benefits, Trainwreck plays off the fantasy of having the sexual freedom and benefits of relationships, minus the complicated, emotional baggage. These are features claimed to be indicative of our new, modern manifestation of love. And yet, all of these films insist on still concluding with the familiar “happily ever after.” Why? Has it become embedded into our culture, in which the narratives of rom-coms cannot escape? Would an alternative ending similar to The Best of Me still be classified as a rom-com? Despite the disapproval of monogamy and attempts to break free from emotional efforts and commitments to another person, which are present in our fantasies, we still find ourselves resolving romantic conflict with the very notions we were originally trying to escape. It becomes clear that there is a reason the same narrative arc of the romantic comedy is fed to us by our culture time and time again. There is a reason why we still choose to consume this culture, despite its repetition. At our core, our outlook on love, as exemplified through romantic comedies, has changed very little. Beneath the lace, flowers, and sentimental orchestral tunes, the fundamental message remains the same: we as a society still strongly believe that our one true love will prevail all obstacles.

 

Images Courtesy of imdb.com Gallery

 

There’s something innately funny about Merriam-Webster’s announcement, earlier this month, that “culture” is their 2014 Word of the Year. “Culture” is the “Scary Movie” of words of the year, which, ordinarily, are supposed to reflect culture (“vape,” “selfie”) without actually being “culture.” Merriam-Webster’s editors are at pains to clarify that they weren’t trying to be meta (which, incidentally, would’ve made a great word of the year back in 2000). The word “culture,” they explain, was simply the word that saw the biggest spike in look-ups on their Web site. Confusion about culture was just part of the culture this year. People were desperate to know what “culture” meant.

 

Joshua Rothman, The New Yorker — December 26, 2016