celebrity gossip, academic style

So I saw Scott Pilgrim today: in part on the advice of my general film sage Dana Stevens (who also writes for Slate and was my main reason for becoming a regular listener to the Slate Cultural Gabfest; listen here for their collective thoughts on Pilgrim), in part because I knew that it was something that would make me think — for better or for worse — about the state of cinema, youth culture, postmodernism, etc. etc. today.

And that it did. Feminist Music Geek has some excellent overarching thoughts on the film — like me, she found it rather masculinist (DUDE, THESE ARE CHARACTERS, NOT CUT-OUTS) but also recognizes the ways in which the film’s plot and 8-bit references hail our middle-class, educated generation.

I realized that while I’ve liked Michael Cera since his halcyon days on Arrested Development, and while dozens of others have commented on the rise of his particularly consistent brand of passive, quirky masculinity since appearing in Superbad, Juno, Paper Heart, Nick & Nora’s Infinite Playlist, Youth in Revolt, and now, Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, I hadn’t really thought critically about what this consistently meant — or if it had antecedents.

I don’t particularly want to argue about whether or not Cera is the same character in all his films. I mean, he is. No question. While Feminist Music Geek points out that:

Cera’s screen persona tends to be defined by reticence, discomfort, displays of grave maturity that belie his age, and being put upon. Scott Pilgrim is supposed to be relentlessly youthful. Cera looks like he’s lived through 45 years of other people’s bullshit. But Cera struck a competent balance between how he’s defined himself and what’s expected of the role.

Nevertheless, he’s still playing a very slight — albeit necessary — version of the characters he’s played in other roles. Stumbling, mumbling, lacking general self-confidence, pining after a girl but lacking the verbal resources and gumption to tell her so. As those of you well-versed in this blog and its terminology, that’s his picture personality — the image of what Cera is based on the string of characters he has played thus far.

But here’s the kicker: there’s no outside. By all accounts, paratexts, interviews, pictures, what have you, there is no “real” Cera behind the picture personality. They are one and the same.

Now, several actors have built their success on versions of this idea — Gary Cooper, for example, was famous for just playing Gary Cooper onscreen. Julia Roberts, Tom Cruise, Cary Grant, Will Smith — all of them have been cited as exemplars of this particular sort of “matching” between picture personality and extra-textual personality. Of course, that’s part of what made them all stars: their “real” lives matched with their onscreen lives, making them more coherent, making their images more simple — which, in turn, makes each of them more likable. People who like these stars aren’t stupid, just as people who like a really good steak or a perfect peach aren’t stupid. The “taste” of each of these stars is so unified — so purely a manifestation of an authentic core, a pure “Gary Cooper-ness” — that it’s irresistible and near-universal. But as much as Julia Robert’s real life seemed to compliment her screen persona — see, for example, her whirlwind romance with Kiefer Sutherland right after Pretty Woman hit big — she never was Vivian. She wasn’t a prostitute. They both had big curly hair and liked boys, but there was no 1-to-1 correlation.

Cera, however, is a different story. He may not be a high school track athlete from Minnesota, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t disbelief the idea that the real Cera could have been. Nothing — and seriously, nothing — contradicts his onscreen roles. In short: Cera’s offscreen “self” is a pure extension of his picture personality.

You want evidence? Okay, let’s go.

As the Atlanta weatherman.

As the quirky cheek-kisser of Jason Schartzman.

Just chillaxing and getting a make-over with the cast of Jersey Shore

Improvising a song with Ellen Page for Jason Reitman the director of Juno

Trying to show that he’s not one-note on Letterman (most excellent clip of very young Cera on La Femme Nikita included; it does little show that when he tries to be “scary,” his “real self” shows through)

Ridiculously funny in the CBS web-series Clark and Michael

Interviewed “Between Two Ferns” by Zach Galifinakis on Funny or Die

Offering spectacular resume advice in “Impossible is the Opposite of Possible”

And I could go on and on.

To Note:

*The cadence, tone, and vocabulary in the above clips, all of them “extratextuals,” matches those of each of his film roles.

*Cera plays guitar; several of his film characters play guitar.

*His body never changes. His face never changes. His wardrobe never changes. His hair never really changes. No matter the film — save, of course, Year One and Youth in Revolt (see below). He looks the essentially the same today as he did when he started on Arrested Development.

*In the weatherman clip with Jason Schwartzman, he’s passive and awkward and uncomfortable, especially in comparison to the more outré partner in weather crime. Exactly like he is in every single one of his films.

*He’s friends in real life with the people who play characters in his movies. See also: Jonah Hill, Seth Rogen.

*He’s uncomfortable and out of place when faced with “cool,” social people of his own age (see: Jersey Shore). His recourse = awkwardly interact, pretend to be cool himself, even if that means making himself look like a fool (even literally — see his hairstyle at the end of the segment) in his attempt. Of course, this a-sociality is at the heart of his charm, but it’s important to note that it’s consistent both on- and off- the big screen.

*The evidence that he hasn’t always played the same role (see La Femme Nikita) in fact reaffirms the fact that he can’t play any other role. And certainly not someone evil. Which might be why his turn as someone moderately evil (or at least cool and cunning) as the alter-ego in Youth in Revolt was intended as a source of comedy.

Now, I realize there are slippages — at least three major ones:

1.) The Girlfriend (???).

Paper Heart was supposedly a fictionalized account of the relationship between Cera and Charlyne Yi. They may or may not have dated three years. But Yi has denied that they ever “actually” dated, even though Cera has denied her denial. Obviously the confusion was part of the intended aura surrounding the quasi-documentary. But I love the idea of Cera thinking he’s in a relationship with someone and the girl denying it — which could totally be a Cera plot point.

Still, there’s no girlfriend in “real” Cera life. But again, this is perfect: each of Cera’s movies is about getting a girl, but only at the film’s end. We never really get to see Cera in an actual relationship — he’s either recovering from a break-up or striving for a girl or both. To see him in the quotidien, contended relationship rhythms — even if it just meant holding hands at an awards show or premiere — would be out of character.

2.) The Arrested Development Reticence

In short, Cera has been the long hold-out on the Arrested Development movie, spear-headed by Jason Bateman. The rest of the cast signed on years ago; only Cera held out. Lainey Gossip attributes it to Cera’s prideful desire to build his own career. Indeed, now that his last few films have underperformed, he’s publicly voiced his intent to join the cast. So how do we read this? Coupled with the fact that Cera apparently bad-mouthed Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s short film at Sundance, are we to take this as evidence of Cera’s inner prickishness?

I think this can be read two ways. First, it’s been misinterpreted, or misreported. Second, and more likely, is that it’s the part of the Cera picture personality that comes out when he gains a modicum of power. It’s the part of Scott Pilgrim that cheats on Knives and can’t muster the courage to break up with her. It’s the part of Evan in Superbad that abandons his friends when they’re in trouble. There’s an inherent selfishness and self-absorption that comes with the pursuit of unrequited love.

3.) Year One???

So I haven’t seen this film. Why? It’s supposedly horrendous. Like really and truly unwatchable. Cera and Jack Black as……CAVE MEN! But here’s the thing: at least judging from the preview and clips I’ve seen, it’s just the same Cera personality, only in caveman clothes.

Like it’s Halloween on the set of Superbad or something. But recall: this film was a flop. We might attribute it to bad screenwriting, but as both Transformers and G.I. Joe attest, a bad movie does not necessarily entail a flop. Obviously, people weren’t into seeing Cera in a role in which he didn’t wear a hoodie and Converse. See also: Youth in Revolt, in which Cera “plays bad” for half the film. Big underperformer, even though it’s still half filled with vintage Cera. The lesson = audiences want their Cera persona served straight up, sans period costuming or evil dopplegangers.

The conclusion, then, and the way that I hooked you into clicking through to this blog post, is that Cera is this generation’s Buster Keaton. He doesn’t have the same performance style; he’s not as funny. But that’s not the point. Cera, like Keaton, is a comedian with no “outside.”

Keaton was one of the most accomplished (and my personal favorite) of the silent comedians — you can watch him here in one of my favorite of his short films, One Week.

As evidenced above, Keaton’s trademark was his straight face. In fact, it was so much a part of his picture personality — and his general appeal as a comedian — that his studio contract stipulated that he not smile in public.

Now, I don’t know exactly how this was accomplished (by all accounts, Keaton was a dour drunk in real life, so it might not have been too much of a stretch) but the effect was a clear, visual, one-to-one correlation Keaton’s picture personality and “real” self.

Even the 1920s version of the Youtube Video — aka the publicity photo — used Keaton’s picture personality to its advantage, as displayed in the shot below, taken to publicize Keaton’s move to MGM.

And when Keaton was desperate for money in later years, his picture personality was exploited once again — this time for Levy’s Rye bread.

Of course, Keaton was not altogether unique. Charlie Chaplin had a similarly unified picture personality centered on his depiction of “The Tramp” — but his un-Trampish antics off-screen were widely reported, including his multiple romances and marriage to a 16-year-old girl. The early silent comedians were part of a Hollywood that relied upon extremely close relation between picture and extra-textual personalities — see, for example, the star images of Gloria Swanson, Pola Negri, and Theda Bara.

Casting “against type” would not become a popular practice until the studio system. But casting against type was, and remains, the provenance of dramatic actors, as the ability to convincingly play different personalities and personas helps emphasize an actor’s dramatic (not comedic) talent. And while we generally associate dramatic transformation to those actors practicing The Method, that’s a relatively recent phenomenon. In the case of Bette Davis, this talent and hard work — her ability to play the bitch, the sympathetic mother, the Jezebel, the self-sacrificing woman — reinforced her overarching star image as a diligent, talented, hard-working actress.

Even now, a “good” actor, even a good popular actor, is someone who can convincingly play good and bad. Take Tom Cruise’s turn in Collateral, or Magnolia, for which he was nominated for an Oscar: proof-positive that he was more than just Tom Cruise playing Tom Cruise.

For comedians, however, it’s an entirely different game. When Robin Williams played “evil” in One Hour Photo, audiences didn’t know what to do with him. When Seth Rogen was a complete asshole in Observe & Report, again, people didn’t know what to do with him. John C. Reilly can do both evil and funny, but he’s a character actor. Will Ferrell always has to be the same guy — even when he’s an Elf, he’s the same guy. But he is married — to a total Swedish babe — and has a child, things his own characters may or may not do (maybe in Tallendega Nights?) Russell Brand seems to be the guy he plays in Forgetting Sarah Marshall in real life, although he will be appearing in Julie Taymor’s vision of The Tempest shortly. Sascha Baron Cohen not only has three distinct picture personalities, but an entirely “serious” and real self that has babies and gives straight interviews on Fresh Air.

My conclusion? We’re generally less interested in comedians extra-textual lives, as what makes them compelling — their humor — is difficult to generate off-screen. Steve Martin, Martin Sheen, Billy Crystal, Eddie Murphy — we know relatively little about their real lives. But in the contemporary star environment, there’s no such thing as not being interested in someone’s extra-textual persona. You can’t just do a few talk shows and call it good. Extratextuals — making viral videos, doing off-kilter promotions — are just as, if not more, crucial in publicizing a movie as any trailer or billboard or interview. Stars are no longer contracted to the studios, but the current film environment is precarious and unstable; someone like Cera (and his films) will only thrive if he can keep up the consistency and basically provide sequels of himself, on-screen and off.

The necessity of Keaton’s particularly unified image said a lot about the state of silent cinema and the state of stardom during the period, and the same principle holds for Cera. The necessity for such coherency reveals more about the state of the industry (and our current needs in order to be drawn to a film or persona) then it does about Cera himself.