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Can Culture Be Separated from Art?

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ifThe first time I went to the MET I was nauseous and soaking wet. Nauseous, because it was the day before my last final for fall semester, and wet, because the sky decided that what New York needed was a good soaking, and I did not own an umbrella. Impulsively, my dear friend Megan and myself had decided that we needed to do one tourist activity before leaving the city for winter break, instead of continuing to be homebodies. As we wandered the vast marble hallways, feet squelching the whole way, I was awestruck. My mother had made me an art freak from a very young age, something that had spiraled into an obsession at the time of my entering the MET. What struck me most about the museum was not the mass amounts of brilliant artwork, but the amount of everyday artifacts. I understood why the works of Degas and Carvaggio were prominently displayed, but why would kitchenware be given the same treatment? This sparked a question in my mind that I have not been able to let go of since: can art be separated from culture? I had thought of the two concepts as vaguely separate before that trip to the MET, art was music, paintings, theater, etcetera. Culture was greater than that. But was it? Can culture exist without art, or are the two concepts really just two sides of the same coin?

During my first year of college I studied just how many things constituted art. Along with all of the obvious mediums of art, it seemed that many everyday items were also considered art, or at least made by artists. That logo that is plastered all over billboards was made by an artist, or more likely a team of artists. Every advertisement was made by artists. Every stunning building and landmark, every graphic on a tee shirt, every band poster, every stock photo, everything, really, was created by artists. And wouldn’t we consider these things to be a part of our culture? The intersection between art and culture still fascinates me, and my interest in art turned into a love of art history and the circumstances behind creating works of art.

In order to be a part of society, we have to understand it, and I think a large part of our society revolves around art and culture. In a way, maybe everything can be considered art. Isn’t there a certain ritual put into both playing the piano and doing times tables? Or writing a novel or an essay, which one of these is the work of art. Stephen King writes that “The only two useful art forms are religion and stories,” so perhaps even religion can be considered a form of art. My questions on this subject seem to never end, which is why I consider it an immense blessing to have friends who are just as passionate about knowledge as I am. Many hours in coffee shops, or walking through stores have been spent discussing subjects like art and culture. I find myself constantly learning more about this subject from everywhere. Professors, friends, and even television shows constantly grow my knowledge of our culture, and therefore, art. Just existing in the world feels like an education in art, it’s all around us. My second time at the MET, I found myself wandering away from the more popular exhibits, and getting lost in the many aisles of everyday artifacts, and I began to examine them as art.

The Manic Pixie Dream Girl is Running Your Screens

"There’s no place like home.”

“Carpe diem boys, seize the day.”

“Here’s looking at you, kid.”

“You can’t handle the truth!”

Whether we want them to or not, these phrases inhabit our minds. So many of the most famous words in pop culture are derived from movies, and, more specifically, their scripts. The screenplay is the blueprint for all films. It helps create the story from the ground up, then it develops the tone, characters, and style. While directors may be in charge of the “vision” for a film, writers ultimately have more control over the filmmaking machine as a whole. As film fans, we have writers to thank for many of the most iconic scenes, characters, and lines that we love. However, with the merging of the film industry and pop culture, many writers have become dependent on the same storylines and tropes.

We see these tropes pop up time and time again, especially in mainstream media. The underdog, the small town romance, a genius detective, etcetera, etcetera. One of these tropes has infiltrated films and media for years, to the dismay of many viewers. A new type of female character: the so-called, Manic Pixie Dream Girl (or MPDG, for short), is defined as “a type of female character depicted as vivacious and appealingly quirky, whose main purpose within the narrative is to inspire a greater appreciation for life in a male protagonist,” according to the Oxford English Dictionary. In movies, we often see this character serve as a fantasy, or a plot point, for the main male characters. While there is nothing inherently wrong with using specific archetypes for characters, this specific character type has been overused to the point of degradation. Instead of a fun, off-beat protagonist, the Manic Pixie Dream Girl offers a wide range of traits to be objectified by male characters, and very little depth. She is not understood by either the male protagonist or viewers, and she is intentionally written this way. Many feminists and audience members have been outraged by this trope, “She serves as a tool to further his development but is still considered an expendable figure,” (Worthen, 2022) writes Eryca Worthen, for the Women’s Network. Of course, given artistic liberty, there is a way that this trope can be handled informatively and tastefully, which stems from a film's writing.

The all-important screenplay determines how characters will appear on screen. Author Ann Hornaday writes this in her book, Talking Pictures, “The screenplay serves as the founding document of every film, laying out not just plot and dialogue but also structure, internal “rules,” the inner lives, motivations, and believability of the characters, and such intangible values as tone and theme,” (Hornaday, 1). In this way, the writing of a film truly can make or break it, even when dealing with the same trope. Two examples of the Manic Pixie Dream girl trope are the films The Virgin Suicides and 500 Days of Summer. While both of these films utilize this trope, the writing handles it in two very different ways, only one of which is successful.

The Virgin Suicides, based on the novel of the same name, follows the short lives of Therese, Mary, Bonnie, Lux, and Cecilia Lisbon, five sisters living in suburbian America under the watchful gaze of their hyper-religious parents. The film is narrated by several men (now grown), who lived across the street from the Lisbon’s during their teenage years. The story is shown throughout choppy scenes that feel like unfinished memories—the girl's house and the tree that Cecilia plays in, a hazy highschool love affair. The shots feel dream-like and melancholic, and the characters feel very distant from us. There is no doubt that this film is an art piece. It is beautifully shot and encourages the audience to contemplate what they are seeing, however, the film might be persuading viewers to contemplate the wrong things.

In the case of The Virgin Suicides, the Manic Pixie Dream Girl is not one, solid character who is used for the male protagonists benefit. Instead, all of the five girls function as Manic Pixie Dream Girls. On first viewing, it might not appear this way. In fact, the girls are presented as the protagonists of the film. The story does revolve around them. What turns them from viable, independent protagonists to MPDG’s is the perspective that the film is written from. Instead of an in-depth look at the sister’s lives and what drove them to suicide, we are presented with an outsiders idea of what happened to the sisters. The boys across the street are in charge of informing the audience of what happens behind the closed doors of the Lisbon house. This could be treated as intentionally ambiguous, however the boys’ recollection of events is seen as fact.

The involvement of the boys proposes an interesting problem for viewers: who were the Lisbon sisters actually? The boys’ narration, while it may be well intentioned, completely robs the sisters of their personhood. The sisters become less and less real the further we get into the film. They are essentially objectified by their neighbors, who imagine them as fantastical, beautiful creatures, not real, tortured girls. In a way, their pain is used as another means of stripping them of their personhood. The boys see their suicide as a mysterious loss of the beautiful girls in their lives, not a serious tragedy.

There are only a few occasions where we see the “real” Lisbon sisters, or at least a legitimate memory of them. One of these occasions is when Cecilia is in the hospital after attempting suicide. The doctor says to her, “What are you doing here, honey? You’re not even old enough to know how bad life gets…” To which she replies, “Obviously, Doctor, you’ve never been a thirteen-year-old girl.” This is one of the rare moments of realness we get from any of the girls. For women watching, this statement is all too real and representative of the female experience. It is also one of the only times that the male narrators are not involved.

More evidence for this mystery is the way the film is shot. The shots are always a bit hazy, and the lighting is warm and comforting. Doodle-like graphics pop up at times, in the title sequence or spelling out the girls' names when we are first introduced to them. The fantastical way the film is shot can be received two ways, either it represents the memory and unclarity of the tragedy of the Lisbon sisters, or it is the imagination of the boys that makes these girls so soft and beautiful. Both of these are plausible explanations, but the style of the film feels so overtly feminine that it would make sense as a fantasy. The tone of the film feels more like what these boys would imagine is femininity, rather than femininity itself. Again, all of these decisions, the tone, the lighting, the narration, would be made by the writer, or taken directly from the screenplay.

The iconic 2011 film, 500 Days of Summer, handles the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope in a vastly different way. This not-quite-romantic-comedy follows the relationship between Tom and Summer, jumping between their first meeting and their breakup. Tom sees Summer as this unachievable beautiful being, and his potential soulmate. From the very beginning of this film, we understand that the movie is poking fun at itself and at Tom, who is heavily based on Scott Neustadter, the co-writer of this film. We see this film primarily through Tom’s rose-colored point of view. His perception of Summer is too good to be true, something everyone in the film sees, but Tom.

Summer is one of the original MPDG’s. She is quirky (or maybe she just listens to the Smiths), she dresses unusually, and carries herself with nonchalance and confidence. All of this is attractive to Tom, but he obsesses over her to a fault. Summer says from the outset that she doesn’t want a relationship, which Tom ignores. Later, when he is shocked that Summer holds true to her promise of not dating him, Tom is forced to confront the difference between the real Summer, and the Summer he has made up in his imagination. Summer’s real life (outside of Tom) is also alluded to and shown a few times throughout the film. This solidifies Summer as her own person, not just someone who exists for the character of Tom.

What makes this take on the MPDG trope so different is its self awareness. It is immediately and apparently obvious to the audience that Tom is inventing some parts of Summer. Writers Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber balances a classical romance story with satire of a broken heart incredibly well. Through cuts, narration, and a meticulously constructed soundtrack, the audience knows to laugh at what Tom is doing to Summer, or maybe to feel bad for Tom. To an extent, Tom definitely objectifies Summer, and their relationship. But this story is not the typical romance, there is no happy ending. Tom is forced to confront his mistakes, and to watch Summer move on and marry someone else. This film functions as somewhat of a warning to not turn the women in your life into unattainable objects.

Ultimately, what differentiates these two films is the style of the writers, and how they chose to portray their own Manic Pixie Dream Girls. For The Virgin Suicides, writer Sophia Coppola to chose to only portray the Lisbon sisters through the gaze of the neighborhood boys. While this made for a beautiful story, it also robbed the sisters of their individual personhood. The audience only sees the sisters as the boys see them, which makes for an incomplete and potentially inaccurate portrayal of their characters and individuality. Because of this, the sisters come off as unreal, almost heavenly beings. They are something to be looked at, to be fascinated by, not real people with motivations of their own. Conversely, 500 Days of Summer recognizes the perils of this trope and turns it on its head. Summer is in every way the classic Manic Pixie Dream Girl, however the characters, writers, and audience members are made aware of that. Tom describes Summer in an unrealistically romantic way, but she describes herself as practical and almost cynical. The writers see the humor in the trope, but also the reality of objectification that women live with every day.

Another reason these films differ is because of the use of consequences. At the end of The Virgin Suicides, the boys, now grown men, come to the conclusion that it doesn’t really matter what actually happened to the Lisbon sisters, “But that we loved them, and that they didn’t hear us,” says the narrator. The boys face no consequences for their objectification of the sisters. The Lisbon girls die as a beautiful enigma, their real story never being told. By the end of 500 Days of Summer, Tom has realized how he has contorted Summer and their relationship. He does face consequences, he loses Summer.

Summer and the Lisbon sisters are viewed in very similar ways by the media. They are all beautiful, idealized, and somewhat tragic. What separates these women is the writing of the films. Hornaday writes that, “Bad movies are about characters. Great movies are about people,” (Hornaday, 13). Buying into the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope essentially reduces what could be dimensional, impactful people into mere characters. Sometimes these girls are reduced to less than characters, they are simply pleasing images on a screen. It is up to the writers to construct a screenplay that is truly great. A screenplay should allow the film to be intriguing and exciting, and its characters should feel real, not simply beautiful.

This trope is important for writers to consider both for their own benefit, as well as the impact that screenplays have on culture as a whole. Just like those incredibly famous movie lines we read in the beginning, tropes and generalizations of a certain type of person can be harmful for viewers. Movies are an incredibly important medium in shifting culture, and viewers should walk away from any good movie with something to contemplate and consider. It is important to recognize this, so that writers present characters and dialogue worth contemplating. A screenplay is the foundation for any movie, so technique, style, and opinion can all affect a film's final result.

Hollywood's Gender Issue & the Future of Women in Film

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Going to the movies is a treasured experience by people all over the world. Fans gather to see their favorite superheroes, celebrities, and fantastical characters come to life on the screen. However, the average movie go-er isn’t concerned with the many people behind the camera. Producers, directors, screenwriters, and many others work tirelessly to make the movie magic happen. Since the dawn of the film industry in the late nineteenth century, women have been an integral part of it. Once the movie business was popular and profitable, women were cut out of the picture almost entirely. Today, aspiring females are demanding a voice in the film industry. But this begs the question, why were women cut out in the first place?

During the first rise in popularity of films, women were main contributors. Women worked equal to men, and sometimes as their bosses. Many early films were essentially made for women, by women. Because audiences were made up mostly of women, female filmmakers used their unique gaze to appeal for the masses (Talbot, 2019). Women were absolutely essential to the film industry, the issue is, no one expected them to be.

Research into the film industry in the 1970’s largely erased women, even those who were mothers to the industry (Talbot, 2019). Capitalism's onset also caused studios to combine and commercialize, keeping the high-ranking male employee’s on, and firing or weeding out the less thought of female employees. Silent films were not as easily preserved as books and other writings. Women in the film industry were not recognized, because of poor storage. When research was conducted into the silent era, these women were not found, because no one expected to see a woman's name in the early film industry.

Today women are seen on screen and off all the time, all of their troubles must be gone, washed away with new research. That is, unfortunately, incorrect. Today's stars are paid millions upon millions of dollars for their performances, however, in 2013, “The highest paid actress… made the same amount of money as the 9th and 10th highest paid men'' (McKinney, 2015). Along with a startling pay gap, women are also frequently placed in demining roles. The Bechdel test, created by comedian Alison Bechdel, forces Hollywood to examine its female characters (McKinney, 2015). Passing the test is fairly simple; the movie must have more than two female characters, and they have to talk to each other… about something other than a male character (McKinney, 2015). Easy, right? “In a study of 1,794 movies from 1970 to 2013… almost half failed it.” (McKinney, 2015).

Movies have still been great, entertaining, and well received despite the lack of women, so why is this issue prevalent? The basic answer: realism. A movie without any real, well depicted women is not in a real setting. Strength, sensitivity, and balance are all things that women bring to the industry on and off-screen. Although romance and fantasy films seem the most feminine, almost all of the classic monster films were created by women (Talbot, 2019). Frankenstein, The Creature From the Black Lagoon, and other truly horrific creatures were brought to life by women, and it was the male gaze that turned Frankenstein’s creature from a sorrowful man seeking revenge, into the grumbling brain-dead monster we see today (Talbot, 2019). The “Femme Fatale”, a popular trope describing a woman as sexy and dangerous, was also the invention of women. Women enjoyed using the medium of film to show themselves how they really were, dangerous and powerful, or sweet and demure. All of these things are possible when women are given a chance in the industry.

Women are, and always have been, integral to the creation of film. Creating a diverse and safe area for women to work in would revolutionize the types of movies we see, the amount of women on-screen, and the amount of women on the credit roll. Giving everyone a space to create great art is absolutely essential, especially in the film industry.

The Coping Mechanisms of the Dead Poets'

The stunning academia film Dead Poets Society has been loved by audiences for over thirty years. Director Peter Weir, who would later also direct The Truman Show, handpicked Tom Schulman’s script for Dead Poets Society in the late eighties. Cinematographer John Seale, who had previously worked with Weir, was also added to the film. This production team masterful constructs the warm nostalgic feel that it has become known for. With the exception of renowned actor Robin Williams, the main cast consists of all young boys. Robert Sean Leonard plays Neil Perry, an aspiring actor who is stuck under his fathers control. Ethan Hawke plays a new student to Welton academy, Todd Anderson, and Gale Hansen plays smart-alek Charlie Dalton. The main cast also includes Josh Charles, Dylan Kussman, and Allelon Ruggiero. The film was released in 1989 to immediate popularity. Today it is often called the best school film of all time.

The film follows the class of English teacher Mr. Keating at the historical private school Welton Academy. Unlike the strict teachers that the boys are used to, Keating takes a new approach. He tells the boys to rip out pages in their books, to play sports during their English classes, and to read poetry for the love of it, not for a grade. Inspired by Keating, the boys decide to reinstate an organization that Keating founded when he was a student at Welton, the Dead Poets Society. The Poets meet in a cave on the grounds of Welton at night and, in the words of Keating, “We didn't just read poetry, we let it drip from our tongues like honey. Spirits soared, women swooned, and gods were created, gentlemen, not a bad way to spend an evening, eh?” Through the inspiration of poetry and Keating, the boys begin to find themselves. They are bolder, wiser, and closer as friends. However, the pressure of Neil’s father eventually drives him away from his dreams and to his suicide. Keating is blamed for this tragedy and is fired from the school. The boys, distraught, show their allegiance to Keating on his last day by protesting his dismissal by standing on their desks and referring to Keating as, “Oh captain, my captain” quoting the famous Whitman poem that Keating showed them.

The main focus of the film is the importance of free speech, represented by Mr. Keating. At the beginning of the film, the boys start very reserved. Neil practically bows down to his father and respects everything that he is told to do. Todd is removed from most of the boys and barely speaks a word. Charlie, though loud and obnoxious, uses humor and arrogance as a way to block intimacy. In the beginning, the shots are long with few cuts, the colors are neutral and soft. The screen itself feels like an antique painting. Once Keating has been introduced, things start to speed up. The camera seems to follow the boys’ lives as they are experiencing them. The Poets’ cave feels claustrophobic and mysterious, the campus, though beautiful, is very uniform. When Knox gets drunk at the party, the camera spins with his vision. The score, composed of traditional classical music, encourages the same feelings of tradition, nostalgia, and inspiration.

The film mainly focuses on the arcs of Neil, Todd, and Charlie. Each of them have a different outlook on life and they are each insecure in their own ways. One thing that unites the boys is the constant pressure put on them by authorities such as teachers and parents to live their lives in a certain way. Shortly after moving into his dorm, Neil is told by his father that in order to prioritize his classes, he should drop the school paper, which Neil is the co-editor of. Charlie and Knox encourage him to stand up for himself, Neil replies, “Oh that’s rich, like you guys tell your parents off? Mr. Future Banker and Mr. Future Lawyer?” It is made clear that Welton is a place for privileged families who want to send their sons to Ivy League schools. So, choice in their own lives and free speech is rare in this environment. Because of the human problem of basic anxiety, as well as the pressure of their parents, the boys have different coping mechanisms. Author Terry D. Cooper explains these coping mechanisms in his book Sin, Pride, and Self Acceptance. Neil is submissive to authority and prioritizes others needs before his own, which is a self-effacing solution. Charlie denies all self doubt and uses arrogance as an excuse to act however he wishes, which is a self-expansive solution. Todd completely removes himself from others for fear of disappointing them, this is an example self-resigned solution. While all three boys begin the film trapped in a cycle of anxiety, throughout the film they begin to find their true identity and speak up for themselves.

Neil has all the characteristics of a self-effacing person. According to Cooper, “Moving toward people involves an attempt to accommodate them, win their affection or approval, and reduce any possibility of conflict… This produces a feeling of safety,” (Cooper, 119). We see examples of this throughout the beginning of the film. Neil is constantly complying to his fathers wishes despite what he wants for himself. Although he is respectful to authorities and overall seems like a healthy young man, he struggles to assert himself. This is primarily because of the basic anxiety that he feels daily. Basic anxiety is defined by Cooper as, “The feeling a child has of being isolated and helpless in a potentially hostile world,” (Cooper, 114). This feeling is universal to all children, however it is especially prevalent to Neil because of his overly harsh and controlling parents. Cooper emphasizes that children are hyper aware of their parents’ attitude towards them. Neil is most definitely aware of his fathers feelings and expectations for him. So, as a response, Neil aims to please not just his father, but all authorities.

Keating’s openness and encouragement changes this for Neil. He is suddenly inspired to be bold and break rules, even becoming the pseudo-leader of the Dead Poets Society. By the end of the film, Neil has become a full self. He is self assertive and not afraid of his father. He pursues his dream of becoming an actor and wins the lead in a local play. Ultimately, though, he sees no options in his life except to follow his fathers wishes, which leads to his suicide. This tragedy leads the other boys to stand up for both themselves and Mr. Keating.

In contrast, Charlie moves against people in the self-expansive solution. He is the first to rip out the pages of the textbook when Mr. Keating gives them permission to, during the first Poets’ meeting, he reads a love poem written on a picture of a naked woman, and the poem he is given to read by Keating states, “To indeed be a god!” He is always the loudest in the room, which comes from his, “excessive need to control one’s surroundings,” (Cooper, 115) that is typical of this trend. Charlie also falls into the narcissist category of this trend, which is “being in love with one’s idealized image,” (Cooper, 115). He struggles with his identity, creating a sort of alter-ego during one of the meetings, he instructs the Poets to, “Call me Nuwanda.”

After selfishly outing the Society in a newspaper article, Charlie is physically beaten by the principal. Instead of berating him, Keating tells Charlie, “Sucking the marrow out of life doesn't mean choking on the bone. Sure there's a time for daring and there's a time for caution, and a wise man understands which is called for.” Keating’s encouragement humbles Charlie and, although still a bit arrogant, he is loyal to his friends and confident in his true self.

Lastly, Todd is extremely self-resigned. “Are you a man or are you an amoeba?” Keating asks Todd in class one day. Todd doesn’t respond. The solution to anxiety in this case is simply evasion (Cooper, 124). Self-resigned people completely remove themselves from others in order to avoid conflict at all costs. Todd refuses to read poems at the meetings, does not speak in class, and rarely interacts with the other boys or Keating. Neil confronts Todd about this, saying, “You’re in the class, but you’re not stirred up by things. You look about as stirred up as a cesspool! You’re in the club but being in the club, but being in the club means you have to do something, not just say you’re in.”

Eventually, Keating stops playing into Todd’s resignation. When Todd refuses to read in class, Keating says, “Mr. Anderson thinks that everything that comes out of him is worthless and embarrassing,” a key factor in a self-resigned person. He makes Todd “Sound a barbaric yawp,” like Whitman. Todd shrugs it off at first, but Keating spurs him into yelling, and then into composing a poem on the spot. Instead of ridicule, Todd is met with applause from his classmates. Of all the boys, Todd changes the most throughout the film. He transforms from shy and resigned to bold in his identity. He is the first to stand for Mr. Keating and call him, “Oh captain, my captain.”

Dead Poets Society succeeds in its goal to inspire true identity and free speech. The stories of the Poets have inspired many students for the past few decades and Mr. Keating has stood as an example of what a teacher ought to be. Many of the character's actions can be explained by Cooper's three solutions to basic anxiety and the problem of pride. Although the boys are restrained by social expectations and their own pride, they are still able to find their true selves. In the words of Keating, “We all have a great need for acceptance, but you must trust that your beliefs are unique, your own. Even though others may think them odd or unpopular.”