Tag Archives: popular culture

Colombian Narconovelas: Media Representations and Societal Perceptions

1 Reply

Nick Morgan’s article on the culture and sensationalism of an ever-growing, rapidly popularizing subgenre of telenovelas, the narconovela, reveals some fascinating insights into the nature of the relationship between television and society. Specific to Colombia, Morgan discusses the narconovela and the significance of its departure from more conservative, ‘socially moral’ novelas of the past. As a genre that explicitly popularizes and makes televised representation of corruption, deception, and cynicism, Morgan notes how the novela, with specific reference to ‘Sin Tetas’, is accused of “pandering to its audience’s less salubrious desires” (53). What I found especially fascinating in this article was the notion that the audiences of these shows- at least those of varying demographics rather informally surveyed by Morgan –  are generally “quite aware of artifice and assume an ironic distance from the narrative” (74). Of course, from the several clips I have seen from Sin Tetas it seems rather difficult to doubt the fictional nature of its plot and social imaginary, but instead of inhibiting its popularity, it seems to stimulate it. 

Considering the topic of societal representations and perceptions as a function of media representation is very relevant to my final project, I am particularly interested in this subject. I found Morgan’s discussion on the “cynical understanding of social life” present in narconovelas quite compelling, as it “crosses class barriers” and is viewed by a widely diverse range of individuals (75). I guess it makes sense, as anyone can observe the pattern in what ‘sells’ most lucratively in the media industry, and that usually involves escapism through drama and turmoil. It is human nature to feel drawn to discuss and observe the flaws of others, and it is interesting when this is harnessed and sensationalized in the form of popular and widely accessible television. With respect to Colombian society and its representations Sin Tetas, as acknowledged by Morgan, it is important to understand that despite media representation, pessimistic and negative social imaginations don’t “conquer” whole societies. What is equally fascinating about narconovelas, along with what they portray, is what they do not.

I wonder, do narratives created by shows like Sin Tetras about Colombian society, observably fiction or not, play into a national cultural conscience? What stories do narconovelas tell about Latin American societies, and could there be a dimension of the internalization of these by their audiences?

Punk: Musical Resistance?

1 Reply

Shane Greene’s article “Peruvian Punk as a Global Means of Underground Production” was a fascinating read for me, as I am someone who hasn’t really explored all that punk as a music genre has to offer- socially, culturally and politically. Greene discusses punk as a “form of resistance” that is “difficult both to sustain and to predict its future lives”, as he identifies the role of underproduction and undercutting within the context of the Peruvian punk scene (286). As a culturally-produced phenomenon that ultimately seeks to subvert a public norm, “to disregard: to negate regard; to refuse to respect”  and “to repudiate rather than hold in esteem”, punk challenges and resists what ‘is’ (290). As something that grew in Peruvian popularity, albeit ‘underground’ of sorts, with a primary medium consisting of a “poor-quality demo cassette”, Greene highlights how, even in its forms and methods of distribution, punk conveys the very messages it has been created to deliver (291). Music as a form of cultural resistance is arguably not uncommon today, with lyrics of songs in popular media becoming increasingly politically charged, but the punk scene presents acts of resistance to not only political contexts, but the creative destruction of “aesthetic professionalism and monopolization”- these popularized channels of cultural media production themselves (289).

I think the comment made by Greene that stimulated the most thought for me while reading was how “to be maximally punk one starts by disregarding others’ definitions, including others’ definitions of what punk is or can be”, how a ‘true’ punk doesn’t even think about what it means to be punk- to put it more succinctly, “not giving a fuck if you are punk or not” (286). This had me wondering, then, what an ‘authentic’ or genuine punk would have to say about what others have to say about them. I guess you could say that talking and writing about what punk is and does, is, of course, not very punk at all. In fact, you could say that by writing this I am doing the exact opposite of what true punk attempts to do… All-in-all, as someone without much punk listening experience I found Greene’s article to be quite thought-provoking; it opened some windows into a genre of music I hadn’t yet ventured into much. 

My question is for anyone who is an active listener of punk, or anyone at all who wants to answer: I would love to know what draws you to punk as a genre of music? What does punk mean to you?

Football and the Culture of Sport

2 Replies

My relationship with football, or I guess sports in general for that matter, is quite minimal and insignificant in nature, but that doesn’t mean I can’t understand the appeal for billions of others around the world. Both of the readings for this week’s topic opened up some avenues of thought for me that I hadn’t given much attention to prior- the beauty, the ugliness, the glory, the history, the evolution and the commercialization of a sport that seemingly unites the world through a cup every four years (give or take, in cases of global pandemics). Admittedly, my fleeting moments of connection to the sport have essentially consisted of playing for five months when I was six years old, and every so often the glimpse I catch of a game being religiously watched by my dad and brother. Nonetheless, I seem to know enough about the game, its iconic players, and the culture surrounding it to understand the extent to which it arguably dominates the world of sport. 

Sant’Anna in his piece “In the Mouth of the Tunnel”, makes a fascinating comment on how “with videotape football entered into the History of Art… and the goals and the passes became museum pieces” (58). Without thousands of fans lining the stands at games, every moment,  and every play captured and internationally televised, what is modern football? Of course, the sport, at its core, exists simply with a ball and feet to kick it, but it’s interesting to think about how our definition of football has been transformed into something that concocts images of merchandise, sports betting, wealth and celebrity status’. The fact that someone who has never played a game in their life can sport a team jersey or bet their life savings on the outcome of a match is quite telling in itself. 

The commercialization and professionalization of sport is argued to have transformed football into something quite distant from children kicking a ball around on a street, as put forth by Galeano, “when the game stopped being a game and professional soccer required a technocracy to keep people in line” (11). Whether or not football is still a game outside of Galeano’s terms is up for debate, but I do think there is a point to what he is trying to say. Football’s value lies in what the game means to those who watch and those who play it, and the game in itself has undeniably formed the fabric of a much larger, global culture or phenomenon…

My question: Has football changed, or have the ways we view it, follow it and think of it changed? Is the game still the same game, whether it is played casually on a street or professionally in a stadium?

Revolutionary Tears of Pancho Villa

6 Replies

What struck me most about Andrea Noble’s chapter was the role played by cameras in the emotional depiction of early 20th century caudillo, Pancho Villa. An emotional Mexican revolutionary is one thing, but the “mediatization” (264) of his tearful displays throughout his life seemed to bring him to somewhat of a ‘movie star’ status, in my opinion. Not to say, of course, that the nature of his emotional expression was purely strategic or political, but rather to highlight its significance in a cultural context- its ability to attract cultural popularity, and, in a sense, unify both the popular and wealthy classes. The political and cultural power of emotion is not something I had spent much time considering before reading this piece, but because emotion is so fundamental, so ‘human’, it is undeniable the impact public displays of it, such as those of Villa, can have on bystanders or onlookers- an ‘affective’, revolutionary power. 

Most notably were the time, context and societal standards Pancho Villa and his tearful displays took place in. A transformative, and fragmented political period in Mexico, the early 20th century met Villa’s tears with both unifying amazement and discomfort. His tears, whether in defense for his life or in public mourning, were powerful displays of rejection for what constituted a socially acceptable ‘masculine’ code of conduct or expression, and it was this deviation or ‘shamelessness’ that distinguishes Pancho Villa from those standing beside him in black and white photographs. Crying, sobbing or weeping in front of a camera was something almost entirely unseen in Villa’s time, expressions of feelings that Noble argues were “the ‘glue’ that, however imperfectly, came to cement the fragments of the Mexican mosaic” (251). Whether they are observed, photographed, filmed or described in writing, the relationship tears have with culture depends on how they are portrayed and by who. My question is, what role do cameras play in our views and perceptions of public emotional expression? How does culture play into that?