Notes on Blake Lively and Leonardo DiCaprio
Subtitle: Why is this relationship so barfy?
I’ve been trying to figure out why I feel this way for the last three weeks. The first time I heard about Blake Lively “spending time” with Leonardo DiCaprio — and then photographed hugging at Cannes — I thought WHOA, GOOD PUBLICIST, LIVELY.
But then, as it became clear that this was really a thing, I realized that I HATED it. Some potential couplings make you happy (this mostly happens when two people you liked seeing together in a movie get together in real life — see especially McGosling (The Notebook), Nina Dobrev and Ian Somerhalder (Vampire Diaries), Bill and Sookie (True Blood, I don’t even know Bill’s real name, bygones), KStew and RPattz (Twilight). We like (most) of these romances because their existence in real life somehow authenticates the fictional romance. See, Edward and Bella do love each other! (Or, alternately, an off-screen romance suggests that the fictional love story IS JUST SO POWERFUL that anyone involved in the filming of it would just naturally fall in love). Simply put, real life romances make us feel less silly for investing/feeling moved/relying on certain scenes of The Notebook to carry us through 99% of hungover/post-breakup mornings.
When the couple has nothing to do with making us feel better about our relationships with fictional characters, then it’s all about how we feel about two images and their fit. As for their actual interactions, the way they challenge each other, or the fact that love doesn’t always make sense to people outside of the relationship, none of that matters. Again, it’s not about a relationship between two people, but a relationship between two images — and the way we feel about the resultant image, the “relationship” image as it were. Just like a star image is the sum of its signifying parts — the way the star appears at premieres, in actual films, in sweats at the supermarket, in advertisements, in interviews — so too is the relationship the sum of the couple’s appearances (or lack thereof) in public, the way they speak of each other in interviews, the way they produce (or don’t produce) children.
A couple like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie have a tremendously popular/palatable relationship image. Their individual star images compliment each other (both have images whose dominant meanings are “sexy,” “talented,” “aloof”), and their relationship image is still sexually charged, yet also maternal/paternal, charitable, intelligent, savvy, and highly cosmopolitan/global.
Now, I know I’m not the only person who feels this way about Lively and DiCaprio, as many readers and Facebook followers of the blog have voiced their agreement. But what is it that makes this relationship so offensive?
Let’s do a quick run-down of their respective images.
OUR BOY LEO:
*Child star of inordinate talent and promise
*Heartthrob to millions worldwide (babyface makes him all the easier to love)
*Hollywood playboy with “Pussy Posse” of close male friends in his late teens/early ’20s (although this part of his image isn’t as well known)
*Survives transition to adulthood to became star in cerebral and/or politically engaged thrillers and Scorsese’s new muse (in other words: a big, respected star that draws both male and female audiences)
*Managed to transform his boyish cuteness into visceral hotness (see especially sex scene in The Departed)
*Dates supermodels; long-term on-and-off-again relationships with Gisele (pre-Tom Brady) and Bar Raefli. (No inclination towards long-term commitment or marriage; no children)
*Becomes involved in environmental causes; appears on cover of Vanity Fair Green Issue
*Longterm star who has paid his dues and has a firm grasp of both his image and his career. Well-respected both within the industry and amongst his audience, despite lack of “traditional” romances.
OUR GIRL LIVELY:
*Teen star of dubious talent. ”Break-out” role in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, in which she attracts an older (college age!) soccer coach and (big sigh!) loses her virginity.
*Best known for role of “Serena” in Gossip Girl, a show that manages to have disappointing ratings yet tremendous cultural influence. Obviously the weakest link of the show (perhaps second only to Little J) despite having the best hair.
*Becomes known for great legs, great hair, and great boobs, about which there is much speculation as to their real-ness.
That is some good hair.
*Long-term relationship with her co-star (and sometimes on-screen boyfriend) Penn Badgley.
*In part due to her character’s expansive and innovative wardrobe, becomes a “muse” of the fashion industry. Karl Lagerfield loves her; calls her “America’s Dream Girl.” Face of Chanel bag line. Anna Wintour puts her on the cover of Vogue. TWICE. Named to Vogue’s “Best Dressed” list.
*Small supporting role in Ben Affleck’s The Town, in which she plays a trashy Bostonite. Mumbles through her lines.
*Nude cell-phone self-portraits leaked on the internet. Lively denies that they’re her, but they pretty obviously are. Boobs looking quite fake.
*Supporting role in The Green Lantern universally panned.
Now, most of what I’d like to conclude about Lively’s overall image has already been said by Molly Lambert in her amazing Grantland piece from last week, which I simply cannot recommend highly enough.
The best bits:
lake Lively is “rich pretty.” So is Gwyneth Paltrow. It’s a kind of prettiness that’s bound up with showing off how much money you’ve spent. Designer labels only, flat-ironed/wavy hair with lots of upkeep, super skinny, sensibly nice tits.1 Blake Lively in a Forever 21 dress is just another beautiful girl. Blake Lively in Chanel is a different creature, an idea called “Blake Lively.” An excuse for the fashion industry to promote boring standards of beauty and wealth through an aspirational avatar…..
….Blake Lively would actually make a great Daisy Buchanan in Baz Luhrmann’s terrible idea for a Great Gatsby movie.3 Daisy is the American archetype of an unattainable rich girl. Pretty, vapid, prone to dancing drunk on tables. Equal parts Paris Hilton and Paris Review. Daisy is not a great character of fiction, because she isn’t much of a character, really. She’s just a collection of fetishistic feminine and WASP traits, with a laugh that sounds like money….
…..Lively is positioning herself as A-List without having any real A-List credentials, besides her part in The Town, which she is still banking on to suggest that she is suited for A-List roles. It’s very Internet age of her to publicly declare herself A-list when evidence of her acting talent is still scant at best. It is an extremely calculated series of superficial career moves that lead to being the Green Lantern’s girlfriend, Leonardo DiCaprio’s staged-photo dream date, and on several covers of Vogue…..
And most importantly:
But how is Blake Lively positioning herself for the long-term? Are any people really “Blake Lively fans”? Could Blake Lively open a movie on her own? Will she start taking Kate Hudson’s terrible romantic-comedy leftovers? At least Kate Hudson has Almost Famous to remind us that she can be a very good actress. What does Blake Lively have? A TV show on which she plays the sympathetic main character’s richer, prettier, more vapid best frenemy Serena van der Woodsen, spiritual heir of Daisy Buchanan?
Now, I realize I just cribbed about 50% of that article. That’s how good it is — and how much I want to direct you to its home to read the rest. But part of the reason it’s so good is because Lambert gets to the heart of what’s offensive and unlikable about Lively: she’s playing above her pay grade. She skipped a step (or five) and is suddenly dating A-Listers, fancying herself an A-Lister. Lots of A-Listers lack in talent — John Travolta — but have, without doubt, paid their dues, and earned their place on the A-List. But skipping ranks? That’s downright unAmerican.
Someone can become solidly B-List by being horrible in films, appearing in television shows, or being pretty/having a nice body. Megan Fox, I am so talking to you. But A-List requires some sort of distinguishing talent, longevity, or enduring cultural resonance. And Blake Lively seems wholly devoid of actual talent, which is why the idea of “rich pretty” is so salient. She is the sum of her beautiful body parts, but none of them are in any way unique or distinguishing. There’s no Angelina Jolie lips, no Reese Witherspoon heart-shaped face. Indeed, all of her beautiful parts could be yours with a personal stylist, trainer, hairdresser, and plastic surgeon. She never says anything witty or interesting in interviews. Her clothing is beautifully tailored to fit her body and always interesting — but always seems very much like it was chosen by someone else, and she’s just modeling it. I mean, Angelina Jolie may pick some hideous dresses, but there’s very rarely the feeling that she’s someone else’s Barbie. There’s just an overwhelming sense that this girl is a blank slate of a body and performer, attempting to define herself through her association with others. I realize that this is not unique, but it does account for my general dislike.
Lambert’s piece has effectively guided me towards an answer to my initial question. Why do I hate this relationship? Most obviously, their individual images don’t mesh. Despite his womanizing past, DiCaprio’s dominant image is that of a well-respected A-Lister, someone who has worked his way through Hollywood and matured as an actor, activist, and individual….even if his relationships with women have not been exactly “solid.” Importantly, and perhaps because he’s a man, the parts of his sexual/relationship history that are less flattering are easily ignored. Lively, by contrast, is young, immature, and playing above her level. Even with the respect of the fashion communities and legions of lusty dudes, she’s still just a body, not a star. Plainly put, her image doesn’t “deserve” DiCaprio’s. She’s being uppity. She needs to date some more CW stars before she climbs the ladder to Oscar nominees.
As for their relationship image, it’s still in its early stages. The first photograph of them as a couple was a brilliant maneover on the part of their publicists: grainy, obviously paparazzi (although they were almost certainly tipped off), with an obvious connotation of an “intimate” moment not meant for public consumption.
Of course, this moment was absolutely meant for public consumption — if they were actually being careful and didn’t want the relationship public, they wouldn’t hold hands in public, even if it was Europe. But the photo’s aesthetic strongly suggests that the relationship is not a publicity stunt, forming a sharp contrast to, say, the first pictures of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. Since then, DiCaprio and Lively have apparently been gallivanting around the rest of Europe and the United States, sightseeing in Verona and going to Disneyland. This seems very clunky to me. Verona?!? As in the site of Romeo and Juliet? As in the setting of the movie in which Blake Lively probably saw him when she was still, oh, 5? AND DISNEYLAND? Brangelina can go to Chuck-e-Cheese’s and I think it’s great; these two at Disneyland makes me feel the same way I did when Ryan Gosling took Olivia Wilde to the aquarium.
Whatever happens with this relationship, I don’t know how much it will actually affect DiCaprio’s image, other than bolster the notion that he can attract some of the most beautiful women in the world. As for Lively, she might ride this for increased gossip visibility, a handful of Us and Life and Style covers, and enough buzz to make people forget how horrible she was in The Green Lantern. But will it make her an actual A-Lister? If she has no fans, no charisma, and no talent, how will she remain relevant? Or is the power of the beautiful, albeit “rich beautiful,” body enough to sustain her stardom?
Serena Van Der Woodsen would just go find a professor or a Prince to marry. But what will Blake do?
Celebrity Publicity vs. Privacy: The Eternal Debate
Earlier this week, Lainey Gossip posted a particularly critical reading of Reese Witherspoon’s current publicity attempts, with specific attention to the contradiction between Witherspoon complaining about her lack of privacy and the recent sale of her wedding photos to People and OK!
Via People.com
The Witherspoon quote from the Vogue interview/cover story/massive photo spread:
But one thing that hasn’t changed is that she is as private as ever. Indeed, she seems almost constitutionally unsuited for the level of fame she has to live with. At one point, I ask her what is the worst thing about being Reese Witherspoon, and she pauses for a very long time. Finally she says, “I mean, I feel like an ingrate for even thinking anything isn’t good. I’m very, very, very lucky. But . . . umm . . . probably that I parted with my privacy a long time ago. We went different ways. And sometimes I mourn it. Sometimes I will sit in the car and cry. Because I can’t get out. That’s the only thing: I mourn the loss of my privacy.”
And Lainey’s take:
Um, remember when Reese Witherspoon sold her wedding to People Magazine and Hello Magazine?
Oh but she’s just a girl from the South who doesn’t know about these thangs! It’s preposterous to think that Reese would up and marry only to go back to work and sneak in a quickie honeymoon only to have to return to go back to work for anything other than necessity. After all, people like Reese, with access and opportunity and resources, they are bound by necessity, aren’t they? They have NO choices, not in their schedules, not in their spending, in not much at all.
So of course not, Reese could not know about, you know, wedding planning around a theatrical release and the potential effect that could have on a movie’s performance, hell no. She’s way too authentic for that.
There are a number of things going on here — with Witherspoon’s actions, her choice of words in her interview, and Lainey’s response to them — and all of them revolve around claims to authenticity and transparency.
First of all, it’s crucial to understand that the tension between celebrities and stars desiring privacy….in the selfsame moment that they expose themselves to the public via interviews, films, and other products….is absolutely, positively nothing new. Even Charles Lindbergh attempted to fiercely guard his private life, which he thought was, frankly, besides the point when it came to his aviation achievements — even as he continued to make public appearances and profit off his fame. During classic Hollywood, there was less complaining about privacy, in part because every statement from the stars was vetted by the studios themselves, and complaining of lack of privacy was tantamount to complaining about the studios, the fan magazines, and the generalized publicity apparatus that sustained the stars. With the mandate of the studios that employed them, stars shared all manner of details of their “private lives” with the fan magazines and gossip columnists, even if those private lives were actually a sham, conjured to harmonize with their manufactured star images.
As the studio system transformed in the 1950s, stars gradually dearticulated themselves from management at the hands of the studios, hiring their own staffs to handle publicity. At the same time, paparazzi culture became gradually more invasive, especially following the frenzy over Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton filming Cleopatra/holding hands/canoodling in Rome. The fan magazines became increasingly bombastic in their handling of the stars, using scandal-tipped headlines, exclamation points, and other suggestive aesthetic means to imply, if not actually name, scandal. The move was at least partially motivated out of necessity: the stars refused to cooperate and offer access, forcing the magazines to “write around” their lack of content. Which is all to say that there was less explicit collusion between the traditional gossip outlets and the stars — a process that continued for most of the ’60s and ’70s. The stars began to publicly complain of the fan magazines and gossip columnists, something they never would have dared to do during the studio system, when such a complaint could inspire negative coverage and effectively doom his/her career. But by this point, the traditional fan magazines and gossip columnists held less sway, and it became common practice for stars not only to complain about the incursion of authors, photographers, columnists, and other forms of publicity, but to sue them as well. (There were dozens of libel suits levied by stars against various outlets during this period).
In other words, the relationship between the stars themselves and the gossip outlets became antagonistic where it had once been incredibly, necessarily cooperative. Starting with People in 1974, however, the cooperative relationship gradually began to reform, as People, Entertainment Tonight, and their various imitators (Extra, Entertainment Weekly, E!, early versions of Us Magazine) all served explicit promotional functions for the star. Exclusives are approved and vetted by the star and his/her publicist and usually timed to promote the his/her upcoming or ongoing project. Importantly, these outlets do not look for or break scandal. They will report on it out necessity (if they didn’t, they’d seem out of touch), but they do not stir the scandal pot, as it were, and often provide space for stars to tell “their sides of the story.”
When Reese Witherspoon sold her wedding photos to People Magazine, she was doing two things. First, she was promoting her upcoming film, Water for Elephants, in which she stars with Robert Pattinson.
As Lainey and others have pointed out, this film really, really needs to succeed if Witherspoon is to maintain her status as a top female star (with a $15 million per-film pricetag) with the ability to open a major picture. (Her last hit was Walk the Line in 2005; her last major hit was Legally Blonde 2 in 2003). The reason stars have offered themselves up for celebrity gossip in the form of interviews, photo shoots, etc., has always been PROMOTION. For some celebrities, such as Paris Hilton, they are simply promoting their entire image on the hope that the visibility of that image will help sell products emblazoned with it: perfume, books, nail polish, etc. But stars whose stardom is the result of actual skill — singers, actors, etc. — time their gossip availability to coincide with a specific product showcasing that skill. A film, a television premiere, an album release, a voting period for the Oscars, etc. The announcement of Natalie Portman’s pregnancy was no coincidence, and neither is the timing of Witherspoon’s wedding. I know this might be hard to hear, but it is the absolute truth. Of course, Portman (probably) did not time her actual pregnancy. But she (and her publicist) sure as shit planned the announcement.
The reasoning is simple: the more your name, face, and image is on the minds of the public at large, the more likely they will be to consume a product branded with that name, face, and image.
Witherspoon working hard to remind you that she is appearing in a film with ELEPHANTS, coincidentally entitled "Water for Elephants." Photo via Vogue.com
Witherspoon and publicist were (and are) doing their job, attempting to heighten her visibility and, hopefully, open Water for Elephants in a way that makes a statement about her power and popularity.
The problem, then, is that Witherspoon paired her efforts with an interview in which she complains about the incursions of the press. To be specific, however, she was complaining about a lack of privacy, which is generally associated with papping photographers….not interviews with Vogue, or the two carefully chosen photos she offered to People. She’s complaining about unauthorized publicity; she has no problem with authorized publicity. The problem, then, is that the former is generally incited by the latter. Under the studio system, there was no such thing as unsanctioned publicity, as the columnists, magazines, and other interviews were all beholden to the studios. Now, authorized publicity breeds unauthorized publicity.
Witherspoon is obviously game to pose for magazine covers, look great at premieres, present at award shows. All of these contribute directly to the performance of a film and are, most likely (it not specifically) built into the contract she signed. (Star contracts generally require that the star promote the film — attending premieres, junkets, etc.) The problem is that such highly orchestrated photos and stories aren’t nearly as interesting or tantalizing as those obtained without her permission, which seem to offer a window onto the “real,” authentic Witherspoon, valuable in large part due to its scarcity. (Reality stars prove that we don’t simply hunger for authenticity and “being real” — it’s what we don’t have, or haven’t been able to read about, that we hunger for the most. Details of Brangelina’s sex life, for example).
So Witherspoon ends up looking hypocritical, at once seeking and complaining about the spotlight. But think about how you would feel if Witherspoon said she loved the spotlight, loved paparazzi coverage, loved seeing photos of her children all over the place. Wouldn’t we call her Tori Spelling? Isn’t the SPOKEN reticence towards exposure part of what makes certain stars “classy” and likable? If she relished exposure, she would be forsaking her claims to being “just like us,” a “Southern girl,” a dotting mother, modest, etc. The disavowal is thus absolutely crucial to Witherspoon’s image — even if it’s false or an act or contradictory, it needs to be there.
In general, this simultaneous embrace and disavowal of publicity is at the heart of stardom. Stars are stars because the way that they act on screen, combined with what they seem to represent in their “private” lives, seem to embody something that matters to a large swath of people. But in order to be stars and not just actors, they need to make that private life available, even when it leads to unsanctioned, unwanted, invasive and potentially dangerous coverage. With that said, star scholars have long written about the ways in which contradiction composes the very core of stardom: a star is simultaneously ordinary and extraordinary, “Just like Us” and absolutely nothing like us. From time to time, that contradiction becomes more visible. The more visible and flagrant the contradiction, with little to smooth it over, the more ridiculous a star seems. See, again, Tori Spelling, but also Gwyneth Paltrow and Tom Cruise. We want our stars to embody contradictions seamlessly, and when the seams show, we reject them. Ultimately, the most enduring, valuable, and esteemed stars are those who, with the help of their publicity teams, manage to hide these seams, even as they expand to contain multitudes, embodying all of the meanings we map onto them. At this point, Witherspoon still seems to be in control. We’ll see how the film fares — and how her subsequent publicity attempts address the perpetual contradictions of stardom.
The Adult Cult of Bieber
A year ago, I wrote a post asking (and answering) “What is a Justin Bieber?” That was right after the release of his second album; the song “Baby” was all over the place; people were lobbing around the word “Bieber Fever” and making fun of the haircut. Here’s what I said then:
A few months back, someone on my Twitter feed asked “What is a Justin Bieber?” Obviously he’s a person, and more specifically, a teenage pop star, but the phrasing of the question highlights he’s particular role in the mediascape today. Justin Bieber isn’t just a teenage boy with a baby face. He’s not just the next New Kid on the Block, nor is he a new Justin Timberlake. His fame is organic to the internet, and he’s either a harbinger of the future of the music industry or a model for a new type of teenage fame.
Now, I realize the term and idea of transmedia do not translate perfectly to a star. But I do think that we can think of a star as having a ‘narrative’ — and, as in the case of Bieber, a narrative that has components that are consumed by the majority, while other components are meant for consumption by fans aching for deeper understandings of the ‘story’ that is Bieber [.....]
How, specifically, does Bieber occupy this position? He regularly Twitters; he has a website; his music videos are on Youtube. None of those things make him all that different from other pop stars. Yet I would argue that it’s the existence and tremendous popularity of his original videos — coupled with ‘stunts’ such as “Bieber or Die,” the Twitter account (with its 1.7 million followers), and dozens of videos Bieber made specifically for fans, including “So How Did I Fracture My Foot with Taylor Swift?” and “Justin’s Favorite Girl Response” that make his transmedia status (at least somewhat) unique. Bieber has an immense footprint on the web — and that, more than his signature haircut and plaintive voice, are what helped make him so successful.
Again, I don’t think Bieber is unique in his status as a transmedia star. Rather, I think that his success underscores the necessity of *being* transmedia — whether through Twitter, writing books, serving as a guest judge on a reality program, or having a website that does more than simply reproduce known facts about the star (as in the case of Tom Cruise’s). If you want to be a star today, whether in music or reality television, you’ve got to offer breadth — room to explore, room to be fascinated, room for your fans to feel like they know more about you than anyone else….
So what’s changed? Bieber has gone beyond the role of teen idol to become a veritable cultural touchstone, immediately recognizable not only to tweens and teens, but adults of all ages. His visibility is somewhat akin to Miley Cyrus, but without any of the scandal and annoyingness that attends her current image. But he’s more than just visible — he’s LIKABLE. The combination of Bieber’s own charisma and the discourse around that image have transformed a teen idol into an affable, “head firmly on shoulders,” highly self-aware and self-mocking celebrity…..all before the age of 17.
Bieber’s biographical movie — Never Say Never — opens this weekend, and it will open big. Of course, it’s been timed for the weekend before Valentine’s Day, allowing Bieber to boast that girlfriends the world over will be spending their Valentine’s Day….with him. If this line was delivered with a straight face, it might make me nauseous, but there’s a certain tongue-in-cheekness to it, which performs adds a fascinating, incredible self-awareness to his image.
So how has this self-awareness been amplified — and how does it appeal to adults?
As is the case for all stars, the Bieber Image is a result of a cluster of “texts” — interviews, pictures, appearances, music videos, anecdotes — that combine to create a harmonious understanding of what Bieber is “really like.” Obviously, we have no idea what Bieber is “really like,” unless we happened to grow up in Canada with him. Instead, we have a vision of what these texts communicate as his “really like-ness.” Each text makes some claim to authenticity — this is the “real” Justin because it’s live footage; this is the “real” Justin because it’s an intimate interview; this is the REALLY REAL Justin because he’s ACTUALLY TWEETING THESE WORDS!
In recent months, there have been three major texts contributing to the Bieber Image (and, specifically, it’s visibility for adults and non-”Bielibers”)
1.) The Vanity Fair Cover/Profile
There was a lot of hoopla about this cover leading up to its publication — for some, it was a sign that Vanity Fair had finally and totally sold out, featuring a star they knew would generate page views online and newsstand sales offline. (But really, how is this all that different from publishing yet another Kennedy/Camelot retrospective, as they do EVERY YEAR? Just because it’s catering to a different type of celebrity/scandal/glamour-hungry reader….)
The profile includes several, well, HILARIOUS photos — (all photos from VF.com)
Note that all of these photos are at once invoking and softly satirizing Bieber’s teen idol status — and whether or not they were Bieber’s idea (doubtful), they nonetheless communicate a willingness on his part to participate in the mockery of teen idolhood. What they photos boldly communicate: Bieber doesn’t take himself too seriously, and gets that this whole deal — the fact that hoards of screaming girls clamor after him, the fact that photos of him blowing bubbles are “cute” - is absurd. I especially like the one of him singing to the girl above, as it acts out the promise of his songs, e.g. a devoted Bieber will ask you, love-sick girl, on a picnic in the park, and serenade you with a love song written just for you.
The meat of the interview is also quite good — as if Vanity Fair knew that this article would be held up to scrutiny, and they couldn’t offer the usual pabulum that passes for the VF celebrity profile. (Don’t get me started). The author is Lisa Robinson, well-known for her rock journalism over the last thirty years (she was also behind the recent Gaga profile). Robinson makes ample use of testimony from those who surround Bieber, but mixes it with her first-hand account of her time spent with him, painting a portrait that at once makes it easy to understand why young girls love him….but also encourages adult readers to appreciate him. In other words, this profile is not written for teen girls — even if they may have been the ones buying the magazine en masse on the newsstand for the pictures. At several times, she uses a lists of Bieber’s traits/accomplishments to create an aura of maturity. For example:
“A huge Lakers fan, Justin had dinner alone with Kobe Bryant, who reportedly advised him ‘Don’t take any shit from anybody.’ Justin shot hoops and had a dance-off with Shaquille O’Neal on Shaq’s TV show last summer and came across as a sophisticated, smart kid. He can act — a stint on CSI was more than respectable, and his skits with Tina Fey on Saturday Night lIve were funny. He can breakdance and do ‘the Dougie’; he can learn or mimic something in a minute; he can solve a Rubik’s Cube in less than two minutes. When Scooter taught him the Hebrew prayer the Sh’ma, Justin incorporated it into the before-show group prayer on a nightly basis. He’s a phenomenon. This is not your typical teen idol.”
She compares him to the charismatic idols that came before:
“He’s hyper; he’s an athlete — he’s played hockey and golf and by all accounts is excellent at both. In a way, he reminds me of the very young Michael Jackson: with a direct, focused gaze and akeen curiosity, just like Michael did, he asks me almost as many questions as I ask him.”
She draws attention to the way he’s preserved his appeal to teens, and, even more importantly, how interacts with adults:
“He has been linked to and photographed with performers such as Miley Cyrus, Selena Gomez, and Jasmine Villegas, but he keeps his private life private — lest he destroy his fans’ fantasies. The ‘kid’ sitting in front of me is a huge flirt; he even flirts with every older woman who has ever interviewed him - including Barbara Walters and Oprah Winfrey, both of whom appeared to fall under his spell.
Other parts of the profile — as well as another published in New York Magazine this Fall — point to the fact that he lives his life surrounded by adults; his bodyguards, voice coaches, manager, mother, back-up dancers, mentors (Usher, et. al.). And while he still acts like a kid from time to time (there’s a particularly hilarious section that details the fact that he spends a good amount of time plotting practical jokes and throwing candy at his manager) he spends the vast majority of his time conversing with adults, surrounded by adult conversations, and — this is crucial — keeping the schedule of a workaholic adult. Indeed, one of the traits that emerges from all writing on Bieber is a sort of consummate professionalism: he possesses a keen understanding of exactly what makes his image work, and the sort of work (posing with hundreds of girls for photographs before each concert; going to bed on time so as to preserve his voice; keeping his hair/trademark in tact; not having a serious girlfriend) necessary to preserve that image. He’s a teen beloved by teens, but has few peers. Or, rather, he has become a peer to adults — and that’s why he’s so fascinating/compelling to us, as adults ourselves.
No seriously. Think about the kids you’ve known — whatever their age — that have spoken to you as if you were both adults. Whether it’s a sort of flirting (I used to get this all the time when I was a camp counselor; junior high kids “flirting” in a decidedly un-sexual, yet charisma-infused way) or just communicating about serious issues in an articulate way, these are the kids that adults are drawn to. I have little interest in “being friends” with a 15-year-old who uses teen-speak; but some of 15-year-olds I taught at Gifted and Talented Summer Camp (Nerd Camp, as they called it) had, through a combination of nature and nurture, talking with adults and being treated like adults, learned to communicate and convey themselves like adults, and, in the process, made it much easier for adults to, well, like them. [Because, let's face it, a lot of teenagers are unlikable. I say this as someone who, at several points, as decidedly unlikable myself, even if I did have bursts of likability, but never during my 8th grade year. Ask my mom.]
2.) The 502 Television Appearances
Bieber is in full-out promotion mode for the new film, which means he’s been all over the talk show circuit this past week. But he’s not doing traditional appearances. Instead, he’s mocking him image yet again:
Switching Bodies with Jon Stewart
Satirizing ‘The Roommate’ with Andy Samberg on SNL:
Doing the “Top Ten Reasons It’s Fun to Be Justin Bieber” on Letterman (and then playing the drums with the band):
Highlights:
“Cross me and I”ll have 50,000 screaming girls come to your house and mess you up”
“At the Barber Shop, I can say, ‘Give me the ‘me’”
Appearing in a Best Buy Super Bowl Ad with Ozzy Osborne:
Note that he not only mocks his own image (and Bieber Fever) with a straight-faced sell of “Bieber 6G,” but also, in disguise at the end, plays on the fact that his looks are often compared to those of a girl.
In all three of these high profile appearances, he mocks himself — and appeals to adults who want to have a similarly mocking attitude towards teen culture in general.
3.) The Movie and The Music
Here’s where Bieber’s image gets really polysemic. (Polysemic is a word that Richard Dyer, the scholar who basically founded star studies, used to describe the way that star images worked — each image could hold many meanings, which resonated differently with different people). For even as Bieber uses “adult” media sources to appeal to non-teens, he’s still incredibly skilled at cultivating and sustaining the teens that compose his base. The movie is a straight-faced tale of hard work and devotion, with ample use of clips from Bieber’s past — a testament to the fact that YouTube viewers and fans really and truly made him a star.
TRAILER HERE
The home videos also convey an undeniable authenticity: if even 2-year-old Bieber was talented, that’s proof positive that his talent is neither manufactured nor mediated. Other footage makes it clear that he works hard, which makes it easier to embrace him, as his riches and fame are not a birthright or a matter of chance, but the result of a good old fashioned American(Canadian!) work ethic. (Americans particularly despise those whose fame seems unearned: see Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, et. al.)
While Bieber’s been busy mocking himself on screen, he’s also appealing directly to his SEVEN MILLION Twitter followers to come see the film. Seven million, you guys! Last year, Twitter refigured the way that it tracks “Trending Topics,” because #justinbieber so consistently dominated the top spot. [Think about that: His fans so voraciously Tweeted his name that Twitter had to re-conceptualize the way that it tracked popularity] But his fans got around the #Bieber-ban, conjuring a new way to get him in the trending topics by hashtagging the number of days until the movie opens: #Sixteendays, #FiveDays, etc.
Bieber has accelerated the trend by participating in it himself. Yesterday, he Tweeted #4Days, which was then retweeted by 100+ followers (I’m guessing hundreds of thousands; Twitter refuses to keep track when the number tops 100)
And unlike his old-fogey celebrity elders, Bieber Tweets like a teen. As the New York mag profile points out,
According to Billboard magazine, he tweets at least four times more often than any other celebrity, almost as if he’s filling a quota. He follows more than 70,000 people. He actively cultivates an online conversation, maintaining the illusion that it is not one-sided by frequently giving “shout-outs” to particular fans (“allison in the purple tye dyed shirt it was nice meeting u”) or to his female audience in general (“how u doin ladies 
”). The belief that, unlike other artists, he is “real” and that he “really cares about us” is a common refrain among devotees—and what they feel separates him from the genetically blessed and vigorously managed young stars forged in the Disney or Nickelodeon machines. For many fans, having him follow them on Twitter is a lifetime goal, though few have ruled out the possibility that he might one day swoop down into the crowd and choose a lucky girl to be his one and only.
And then there’s the matter of the music. Sure, it’s sweet and a little treacly. But it’s also near-perfect pop. Slate’s music critic, Jody Rosen, cites Bieber’s “Baby” as his favorite of the year, explaining:
I couldn’t resist Justin Bieber’s “Baby,” which struck a perfect balance between hip-pop production and circa-1963 malt-shop throb. (Listen to Bieber’s opening “oh-oh-oh-oh-ah-ah-ah”; listen to that doo-wop chord progression. A cheeky history lesson, courtesy of Tricky Stewart and The-Dream.) “Baby” reached only No. 5 on the Billboard charts, but it was clearly the people’ choice. The video is the most viewed in YouTube history: as of this writing, 444,225,275 viewings and counting.
For snobs, Bieber is an easy punchline. But of course, Bieber is playing a time-honored teen idol role: easing a new generation into the joys of pop and the mysteries of eros, singing songs flushed with romance but notably free of sex itself. He pulled it off with a mix of guilelessness, showbiz panache, and social-media-age savvy that I found charming. Above all, he did it with good music. My World 2.0 is full of excellent pop/R&B songs that Bieber performs with occasional ingénue awkwardness, but mostly in fine style. I like Bieber’s raspy vocal tone. He still hasn’t sung as well on record as he did on those adorable early home videos that got him a record deal.
And hey! I like “Baby!” You know why? Because like Rosen, I love “malt-shop throb.” How different is Bieber, really, in both tone and topic, from Sam Cooke? In this way, his sound appeals to a base audiences (teen girls) and the secondary audience (those, like Rosen, who appreciate a finely-wrought pure pop song).
When Robinson compares Bieber to Michael Jackson, she’s hinting at Bieber’s potential future: as his voice changes and he grows into young adulthood, he’s going to have to figure out what his next step is. If he — and his producers — can figure how to further broaden the appeal of his sound, the same way that Jackson did, he really does have the potential to become much more than a teen idol. Clearly, he has the intelligence, the self composure, the self-awareness, the sense of humor, the work ethic, and the skill needed to do so. If handled wrong — and compounded by a life of abuse — they can lead to tragedy, as manifested in the twilight of Jackson’s career. But all of these profiles of Bieber are also doing a second, equally necessary task: they underline the fact that Bieber comes from a solid, loving background, surrounded by people who want to give him as normal a life as possible — and, in the process, cultivate the charisma and talent he shares with Jackson while avoiding the delusion and grotesquerie.
But only time will tell.
So do you like the Biebs? Even if you don’t like his music, do you find him — and his self-mockery — amusing?
American Investment in British Royalty
There are some obvious reasons we bandy about: we don’t have out own royalty (that’s why we like the Kennedys); there’s something about people who are very rich and have been that way for a very long time; everyone loves a princess and a fairy tale, especially when that princess is, as they say, a “commoner.”
But this recent hubbub over the engagement of Prince William to Kate Middleton has reminded me, for the first time since Princess Diana’s death, how invested Americans are in the British royalty, and how that has or has not changed since the last major British royal wedding, way back in 1981, between Prince Williams’ parents.
In case you’ve been living under a rock, here’s a nice sampling of said hubbub:
People Magazine‘s elaborate “William and Kate: A Royal Engagement” spread, including slideshows featuring other “commoners” who have married up, possible designers for Kate’s dress, past royal weddings, photos of William growing up, and, my personal favorite, Price William’s Life in People Covers. Please see the gems below.
US has a boring slideshow of their “royal romance” and put them on the cover two weeks running. CNN broke the very important news that Kate had “dominated” the U.S. weekly covers. News of Kate’s “wedding counseling” totally creeped everyone out, while Harper’s Bazaar, psyched to have a new fashion plate in whom Americans were interested, pasted her face on potential fashionable outfits. Again, totally creepy. Inc ase you were wondering, Karl Lagerfield thinks it’s okay that Kate’s a commoner, but only because she’s fashionable, while The Daily Beast offers precise instructions on how to emulate Kate’s “classic style” and “dress like a princess.“ The New York Times wrote several articles: Yeah for engagement, look, that’s Diana’s ring! William is super protective!, Kate’s Dress: Will it be Issa? and OH MY GOD there’s already a commemorative engagement plate, ready for you to purchase for your Great Aunt‘s Christmas present.
Which brings us back to the essential question: why are Americans invested in this couple? Or any British royal couple, for that matter? In a guy that looks like Prince Charles? Even Prince William, for all his quasi-dashingness, is not exactly Prince Carl Philip of Sweden, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Orlando Bloom. Which is all to say that interest in these people doesn’t make logical sense. What are their talents? Other than being royal born? They are neither charismatic nor beautiful. They do rich people things wearing rich people clothes, live in castles, get addressed as “your royal highness.” But so do lots of earls and dukes and other royal families. What is it about the British royal family in particular — and does interest in the British royal family remain relatively “universal?” Or are these magazine covers primarily for those men and women who stayed up late into the night to watch Charles and Diana’s wedding?
I’m drawn to these questions for a personal reason: my mom loves the royals. Not in a plate-buying sort of way, but a pick-up-a-gossip-magazine sort of way, which is something that she usually only does as a last resort when sitting on my couch. She’s always been supportive of what I study, but she’s just never been really into celebrity gossip. [I always, always wanted a subscription of People as a kid, alas.] But she’s admitted to me that the only gossip she finds herself attracted to — what she might even consider buying — is on the royal family. And not just on Princess Di, although she was one of those women who stayed up to watch the wedding. On the sons, too — she was invested in watching them grow, go to school, become independent, and, now, get married. Prince Charles, meh, she could take or leave.
Which points us in a somewhat telling direction: are royals only interesting when they’re women? And disaffiliated from the actual royal line? When there is — just like in our attraction to stars — a point of identification?
Sometimes I start a blog post and write my way into answers for the questions I pose; other times I have some pre-conceived ideas about where the post will be headed. But I really don’t have a firm grasp of this phenomenon, and how it specifically relates to Americans.
So here’s a few scattered thoughts, and hopefully you’ll help me in the comments:
1.) The American tie to the British royals has everything to do with language, shared culture, and race/ethnicity. ”We” were, after all, once British subjects. (More accurately: some of our ancestors were British subjects, in one way or another, either as inhabitants of colonial America, Britain itself, or any of Britain’s other far-reaching colonial holdings). British royals speak the same language as us, even if they do so with an inflection — but one that many Americans readily associate with class and sophistication (It’s true!). While we like to make a big deal about what separates the Brits from the Americans (Tea! “Football!”) there’s actually much, much more that unites us, from the similarity of our political systems (not to mention the “special relationship” between our two nations) to a certain Protestant work ethic. There’s a bit of sublimated racial supremacy going on as well, as the persistence of the (white) royal line shores up understandings of Britain (and America, by extension) as white nations with minority populations (instead of nations where whiteness is in decline, as it were).
2.) The one thing that really differentiates us = monarchy. Obviously that’s what the revolutionaries were attempting to escape and were absolutely loathe to see in America: a trenchant class system that doomed a certain strata of people to languish as underpaid, overworked, and without basic social services. (OH WAIT, DOESN’T THAT SOUND LIKE AMERICA TODAY?) Point is, the theory of America is that of a land without insurmountable class divisions (The American Dream, y’all!)….but maybe a very small, very traditional, very much schooled in fairy tales part of each of us wishes for a time when divisions were clear, monarchs were rich, and subjects toiled? I don’t know enough about British culture and social mores to say anything substantial about what the monarchy means there — seriously, most of what I’ve gleaned is from the movies, British novels from 1750 - the present, and cultural theorists from the Birmingham school (such as Richard Dyer) and it’s certainly not fair for me to extrapolate. (This is where I need my British and former Commonwealth readers to chime in, please). But I do think that the persistence of the monarchy (in Britain, as elsewhere) is an expression of nostalgia for times when such divisions were clearer. Obviously no one wants to personally go back to being an impoverished subject of a Lord, but there is a clean order to such divisions which is appealing, and not only to the “landed” (e.g. those who own land, automatically rendering them part of the upper echelons of society) classes.
3.) So is American interest in the monarchy an expression of our yearning to be an older, more regimented, less “free-for-all” country? Put differently: is it a fascination with the “other” against which we defined ourselves? Usually we think of such “othering” in terms of race — segregation and racial loathing occur because of a secret/sublimated yearning for the “other”, leading people to define themselves as stringently as possible against the thing they most fear/desire to become. I don’t think that Americans want to become Brits, per se, but they might (secretly) yearn to belong to a society with a storied history, with things as regal, clearly classed, and beguiling as royalty. Plus the whole “pure blood line” is equal parts creepy and desirable — people want their own blood lines to live on and prosper, but the protection and elevation of it reeks of the House of Sliverin in Harry Potter, which in turn reeks of fascism. This also recalls the discussion around Princess Diana’s virginity — her uncle declared her a “bona fide” virgin — and the need for a clean, unadulterated blood line.
4.) What, then, of the deviations? Prince Charles couldn’t marry Camilla; King Edward VIII’s abdication of the crown so as to continue his relationship with the twice-divorced, very American socialite Wallis Simpson. It’s funny, because Princess Di, “the people’s princess,” was certainly of royal stock. But what made her the people’s princess was, in truth, her resilience in the face of Charles’ negligence. Charles was an ass — in part because he was continuing his affair with Camilla — and was never a charismatic man himself. As a result, Diana gets all the sympathy and support — she’s much more attractive than Charles, for one, and also left to suffer because of Charles’ indiscretions and inability to “keep it in the royal line.” Plus Diana seemed to be an authentically compassionate woman who had no idea what she was getting into — and did what she could to turn her relative misfortune into a platform to assist others.
5.) Which brings us to Kate Middleton. Part of the allure of the engagement story is rooted in her youth and beauty. She carries herself well, she dresses well, she has had (relatively few) social snafus. She is, as my Granddad would say, a well-bred girl. Or is she? By American standards, yes, but not by British ones. She looks and acts the part, but as myriad articles have been keen to point out, she is very much a commoner. A 2008 Vanity Fair profile of Middleton puts a fine point on Middleton’s aspiring-class-ness: ”One member of the young polo-playing set in the county of Gloucestershire—known in the British media as the “Glossy Posse”—noted, “Her parents have a tarmac drive, for God’s sake.” (In England, tarmac drives are held to be a sign of new wealth; old money generally has either gravel or long roads, with tire-flattening potholes.)
But here’s the kicker: we may still want a monarchy to exist, just as we want a system of stardom to exist. And sure, it’d probably be more elitist (and more weirdly sexy) if Middleton was a Dutch princess or otherwise royal. But Middleton’s commoner status signifies the “modernization” of the monarchy: Charles was allowed to marry Camilla; Will and Kate have unofficially cohabitated for years. It also speaks to the willingness to let monarchs marry for love, rather than rank — and avoid the sort of tragic melodrama that befell Charles and Diana. But it is absolutely crucial that Middleton *behave* like a royal, both in dress and demeanor. I loved her engagement dress as much as anyone else, but note that it is totally conservative, with long sleeves of which the Queen would approve.
The very upper crust of British society may never accept her and persist in making bad class jokes behind her back. But for the vast majority of the American public, the very fact that she wears hats makes her an instantaneous member of the upper class/monarchy. Even to young women, she’s a woman who will forever be able to spend and dress herself beyond our means, thus rendering her a celebrity. But will the Kate/William romance initiate a new group of romantics into the royal-loving fold? My bet: the large majority of women 15 - 55 will be streaming/watching/DVRing the wedding, even if only for the fashion. Time will tell.
6.) In sum, this particular romance is not all that different, at least for American audiences, from any celebrity romance, only it’s inflected with the indelible attraction of class, pomp, circumstance, and exoticism. Plus: PRINCESSES!!!
So please: tell me why else we’re interested? I’d love to hear as many perspectives as possible.
Taylor Swift: Winning the Celebrity Game
Taylor Swift’s new album, “Speak Now,” sold a million copies this weekend — the first million-plus opening weekend since 2008. She’s being hailed as the savior of the music industry (old news; they said the same when “Fearless” has sold over 6 million copies since its 2008 release. Swift herself is the music industry’s best case scenario: she’s young, beautiful (in a uniquely feline sort of way), confident, unaffiliated with Disney, and without scandal (of her own incitement). Put it this way: she’s not Demi Lovato, nor is she Miley. And she’s certainly not Britney. There are no reports of substance abuse, body issues, or fights with over-bearing and/or exploitative parents. More than Lovato, Cyrus, or Spears, Taylor is business savvy. Her Twitter feed is a publicist’s dream, equal parts cute, confessional, and gracious. For your perusal, a smattering of recent Tweets:
This post is not a lengthy break-down of Taylor Swift’s image — a task that needs to be done. I’d advise you to check out Feminist Music Geek’s take, read Lainey’s coverage of any one of the million cute/nice/endearing things she does (here, here, here), or talk to anyone you know about their feelings about her — she’s seriously the most palatable American media product since, oh, Friends. Which is not to diminish her talent: unlike Feminist Music Geek, I actually like her songs, especially “Fifteen,” and find her pretty charming. The fact that she writes her songs is also heartening, especially in light of the male-producer-female-monsters of late — Ke$ha, I’m talking to you.
The anti-Swifty
She’s still friends with her best friend from high school (who also gets a de-virginization call-out in “Fifteen”) and has sleepovers with celebrity BFF Selena Gomez. She likes sparkly things and doesn’t dress up as a giant bird in her grotesquely sexualized videos. This is a teen music idol I can get behind. (And no, it’s not that I don’t think teenagers and sexuality are mutually exclusive, but the way that Miley or Britney does it — neither one of those are the messages I’m hoping for young girls or, to be honest, for myself).
Celebrity BFFs, iChatting and Twit-Pic-ing the evidence!
And here’s the thing: she seems authentically smart and self-possessed. Again, this is part of her image — she actually has talent! she has good parents! buy her records and endorse America! — but you can’t hide the fact that Swift, herself, is playing the guitar on-stage, which is in itself a stark departure from most teen (female) idols. She’s good at rhyming, at conjuring turns of phrase (I particularly like “You made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter), and she invoked my high school favorite Tim McGraw in one of her first singles. More than any contemporary artist, Swift writes about the way that I personally felt as a teenage girl.
Obviously I looked like this every day of high school. Just add in a few more unfortunate button-ups from the Gap and you're set.
[Okay, admitted digression: Obviously I was the type to be super into Fiona Apple and early Sarah McLachlan in high school, but "Shadowboxer" and "Sleep to Dream" spoke to my most angry, tragic feelings -- not the ones that most closely resembled my quotidian existence. Therein lies Swift's palatability: her inoffensive comes off as authenticity as opposed to blandness. Now, I want every girl to experience a bit of angst and rage in their media diet, whether in the form of Go Ask Alice (do teenagers still read this?), Billie Holiday, Neko Case, or Harry Potter. But it's also nice for the middle-ground to be an image that's not hyper-sexualized and obviously collapsing under the weight of our scrutiny.]
Girl may be “on the bleachers,” as she admits in “You Were Made For Me,” but she plays the game, and she plays it well. Thus the crux of my argument: Swift is able to play the game so well because she has so thoroughly intertwined her “product” and her image. Granted, her image is just as much as a product of any other — and we buy it when we consume information about her. But the reason she’s been able to actually MAKE MONEY isn’t simply because she has a sweet voice and writes catchy lyrics, which she obviously does. Listening to a Taylor Swift song is like listening to gossip; following Taylor Swift’s life is basically mapping the future of her next album. And while many musicians write autobiographically, Swift has turned the twinning of song and life into a sport for gossips, media analysts, other celebrities, and music fans to observe.
Swift’s off-key Grammy’s duet with Stevie Nicks soured my affection somewhat, as did her presence in the ABOMINABLE Valentine’s Day — she wasn’t that bad, but her agreement to appear in that movie, even if as a slight spoof on her alter “popular” ego, was ridiculous. My disdain for that movie knows no bounds. It’s like Paris “Ebola” Hilton — touch it and you’re infected, Jessica Biel/Alba/every other bland star.
But this new album — this new album is filled with juice. And here’s where Swift’s skill as game player becomes clear. Because her art is in inherently confessional, each song is a mini gossip column, and will provide weeks, months, YEARS of fodder. This makes the above Tweet about the identity behind Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain” all the more compelling — Swift is basically making a dozen of her own “You’re So Vains” for each album. With previous albums, the identities of those involved in the songs were more obscure — a Jonas brother, sure, and some high school dufuses. But now that she’s famous and dates famous people and finds herself in famous-people frays, her songs call out exes and foes Taylor Lautner, John Mayer, and Kanye West.
Here’s Pop Eater on the specifics identities behind her songs:
‘Dear John,’ a song almost certainly about her brief relationship with Mayer. “Don’t you think I was too young to be messed with … Don’t you think nineteen’s too young to be played,” Swift sings on the track, which is accented with, per the Times, “pealing guitar licks, a hilarious and pointed reminder of Mr. Mayer, who’s a master of the style.”
She’s kinder to Lautner, the presumed subject of ‘Back to December.’ Of the track, Swift has said, “Whether it be good or bad or an apology, the person I wrote this song about deserves this. This is about a person who was incredible to me, just perfect to me in a relationship, and I was really careless with him. So, this is a song full of words that I would say to him that he deserves to hear.”
The problem, of course, and the difference between Swift’s “Dear John” and an iconic song like “You’re So Vain” is the amount of discretion. Swift has and will continue to receive a tremendous flurry of coverage not only for admitting to a fling with Mayer, but calling his self-obsessed ass OUT in song. Simon, on the other hand, has riden the supposed obscurity of the reference for DECADES. Warren Beatty? Mick Jagger? David Geffen? She even sold the knowledge of the true identity of its subjects of hundreds of thousands of dollars at an auction. That, readers, is how classic, enduring celebrity is done.
But that sort of esotericism does not work in contemporary media culture. Swift can’t be obscure in her references because people are too lazy, or their attention spans are too short, to actual cogitate on such things. Audiences want to believe they’re in on a secret, but that secret can’t be all that difficult to figure out — see the faux-secret/philosophy of Inception as a prime example, or the frustration with Lost when it got just *too* crazy. Swift’s thinly veiled references are just above a blind item — they titillate, but they, like her Twitter musings, also make her seem honest, transparent, pure, and open: the exact qualities we think we want in a celebrity. Take those qualities too far and you’ve got a reality celebrity; refuse to show them and you’ve got an Angelina Jolie, maligned by many as stuck-up and full of herself. (Where Kanye West lies in this continuum, I’ll leave to you?) For a celebrity to succeed, he/she must cultivate this fine balance of disclosure. Disclose too much? Tom Cruise, circa 2005. Disclose too little, or nothing at all? You’re an actor, not a star.
Swift has found this fine balance — mostly in song, but also in her “real” life, in which she is apparently “hanging out” with Jake Gyllenhaal. Dude’s nine year older than her, which I know isn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but that’d be like me dating one of my sophomore students. [When I queried Twitter as to what the two of them could possibly have to talk about, the best reply came from the hilarious @FaybelleineW: "I just see tumbleweeds, or a lot of 'i'm so not gay' necking."] No matter — he’s hanging out backstage while she does SNL; they’re making googily eyes at each other in Big Sur. No making out, no illicit drug use, no breaking up previous relationships. Just good, clean, American fun, which can be gossiped about both now and when she writes the song about it in a year’s time.
This week, she’s on the cover of People, which promises “the untold story” — which, if my swift perusal at the dentist office this morning is to be believed, are actually just her admitting that the songs on her album are about past loves. BIG EXCLUSIVE, PEOPLE. Nevertheless, People speaks to the minivan majority, and her presence on its cover (and the broadcast of “disclosure”) only strengthens her position. More than any movie star, Swift has taken up the mantle of “America’s Sweetheart,” and she’s done it by carefully knitting her products to her personal life, allowing disclosures in one to stand in for confessions in the other. While Ellen does tease her about Jakey G, most of the time, the only thing people want to talk about are these confessional songs — she needs very little extraneous gossip or extra-textual material (no need for scandal!) save to provide future fodder for songs.
The head of Swift’s record company has claimed “The facts say she is the undisputed best communicator that we’ve got. When she says something, when she sings something, when she feels something, it affects more people than anybody else.” I don’t know about that. But I do know that she’s managed to make it seem like when she sings something, it’s communicating something real and authentic about her life — something that can be interchanged freely with an interview, a paparazzi photo, whatever. Her songs are taken as an authentic disclosure and record of her life, and they manage to keep her balanced in fine equilibrium between satisfying and annoying levels of confession and accessibility. She’s may be the savior of the music industry, but she’s also an example of how the celebrity game can be played today — and to tremendous profit. It remains to be seen, however, how long she’ll be able to keep the equilibrium in tact. At what point does songwriting become overindulgent? Will men no longer agree to date her lest they are shunned, scorned, or pitied in her songs? Or is there no greater contemporary celebrity honor than to be such a subject? Swift is the closest we have to a “successful” celebrity today — by which I mean someone who is likable, actually makes money, and even gets good reviews. But again…..can it last? Do 25-year-olds kiss and tell? For her to survive the game, she’ll need to find a new strategy, lest her strategy becomes too transparently manipulative for us to stomach.
