Cultural consumption and irony

This past summer, while riding around in a friend's car on the way to another friend's house, the well-known David Bowie/Queen collaboration song "Under Pressure" came on the stereo. As the familiar bass line intro kicked in, my friend jokingly remarked that humming this part of the song while conversing with a stranger is one way to judge what kind of person they are: if the other person responds to the bass line with the words "Ice, ice, baby!" (in the words of rapper Vanilla Ice's 1990 hit single), it's an indication that they, obviously, have no soul.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xtrEN-YKLBM (Under Pressure)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vp-is6S_b_g&feature=related (Ice Ice Baby)

My friend was alluding to a bit of controversy that arose when Vanilla Ice's "Ice Ice Baby" was first released. At the time, Vanilla Ice, aka Rob Van Winkle, claimed that he owned no royalties for using the bass line that introduces the song, even though it was virtually identical to the intro of "Under Pressure," which had been released earlier in 1981. Later on, Van Winkle settled out of court, and songwriting credits were given to David Bowie and the members of Queen.

This was one of the first things that came to mind when we were discussing the idea of cultural condescension and capital in class the other day. Among most pop culture aficionados, it's agreed that "Under Pressure" is a much better song than "Ice Ice Baby," and I doubt you'd find any who would argue that Vanilla Ice's body of work is musically superior to that of Queen or David Bowie (this is evident in the fact that the name Vanilla Ice is practically synonymous with one-hit wonder, whereas Queen and David Bowie have had many hits to their respective names and continue to be appreciated after the 90s).

My friend was, of course, joking at the time, as there could be any number of flaws or exceptions to this "rule." However, assuming that you encountered a person who was likely to be familiar with both "Under Pressure" and "Ice Ice Baby," humming this infamous intro and asking them to respond to it might actually be a somewhat valid means of obtaining a snap judgment of their character, or at least their taste in music. As we also discussed in class, modernity and the increasing prevalence and importance of the Spectacle to our lives have decreased the amount of time we have to get to know others, as well as make ourselves known to others. Consequently, we're more likely to turn to outside manifestations of personality such as wardrobe choices, CD collections, Facebook profiles, and iTunes playlists. We can bemoan the fact that our judgment of others has become limited to such seemingly superficial indicators, but I personally believe that this turn of events, although certainly not the best and most comprehensive way to get to know someone, is a legitimate and almost inevitable result of the "fast" times we live in nowadays. It's certainly an efficient one at that.

"But where do you draw the line?" I found myself wondering after our class's discussion. When does simple aesthetic criticism of a work translate to mere snobbery and putting-down of other people due to a lack of shared interests? And where does irony fit into this? On Friday nights when my friends and I do not feel like braving the cold to go outside, we discuss (and occasionally argue over) what movie to watch. It's usually a battle of wills between the side that wants a "movie that's actually good" and the side that wants to watch a more "fun" but probably less critically acclaimed movie like American Pie or The Bride of Chucky. And usually the case is that the latter faction, while certainly capable of enjoying the works of an Ingmar Bergman or an Alfred Hitchcock, would prefer, at that moment, to watch a movie that did not require much thinking or active appreciation. This is also the thought process I go through if I opt to watch a formulaic comfort movie like You've Got Mail (a predictable romantic comedy starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks that I've loved since I was 12) over Bergman's The Seventh Seal, which was widely acknowledged by "serious critics" and high art appreciators to be a cinematic masterpiece, etc. Another possibility is that a movie like the 1998 Godzilla, which was nominated for 5 Golden Raspberry (Razzie - like the Anti-Oscar) Awards, including Worst Picture, Worst Director, Worst Supporting Actress, Worst Screenplay, and Worst Remake or Sequel, might be enjoyed by viewers who only want ironically appreciate it and poke fun at its low-quality, terrible, or cheesy elements.

There is a definite distinction between a movie that one knows is not artistically superior but enjoys in spite of its flaws (for sentimental, comfort, or nostalgic value, like You've Got Mail) and a movie that is bad and is enjoyed because it is bad (for example, the notorious Showgirls, a movie starring Elizabeth Berkeley of "Saved By the Bell" fame as a stripper-turned-Vegas-showgirl, garnered a cult following despite dismal box office ratings because of its laughably bad overacting, cheesy sets, poor screenplay, and general terribleness). People can take pleasure in a bad move because by laughing at it, they are automatically elevating themselves.

But can ironic appreciation of a bad movie translate to genuine cultural enjoyment and enrichment? In "The Price of Irony," political theorist Benjamin Barber says no: "The dirty little secret of the ironist is of course that irony is always parasitic and can exist only by virtue of the earnestness it takes such pleasure in annihilating. Like sentiment, which has been called unearned emotion, the new irony is a form of unearned skepticism. It creates nothing of its own but waits to ambush moral purpose, to play havoc with common sense, to deny reason its moment. The only stand it takes is that there is no stand to be taken, so neither the author nor the audience has to take one." In this sense, irony can be seen as the ultimate cop-out; it only exists in order to poke fun at something else, and therefore it takes no risks and has no meaning outside of the thing it is making fun of. Another point that Barber makes is that "The ironic bystander (the phrase is redundant) is the citizen's jeering nemesis and the poet's wily shadow trying to make sure that truth and beauty and goodness, those stalwarts of the world before it was disenchanted, do not re-infect the postmodern's cool voice with hot earnestness. Or make us think too hard or feel too keenly."

I'm inclined to agree with Barber. However, I do believe that irony can be used quite effectively. Although irony is problematic when it becomes one's sole approach to life and art (how long can you keep mocking everything?), I believe that its existence also allows for increased appreciation of art as a whole. Irony is part of the human experience, and incorporating it and using it to examine different artworks can be an important tool for understanding where it fits into our lives. What I'm trying to say is ultimately that, while I would not be averse to an evening of ironically appreciating Invasion of the Animal People (a horror film wherein the country of Sweden comes under attack by aliens. And their pet Sasquatch), I would never be able to respond to the bass intro of "Under Pressure," a song I consider to be an inspirational anthem about the everyday "pressures" of life, with Vanilla Ice's lyrics, no matter how funny the words "Ice Ice Baby" might be. Irony can be a way of reexamining art and evaluating it on our own terms, but as Barber mentions, irony can also become a shield and set of blinders for those who are either too scared, insecure, or lazy to confront the issues brought up by the artwork in question.

Bourdieu, with his ideas of cultural capital as "the knowledge, experience and or connections one has had through the course of their life that enables them to succeed more so than someone from a less experienced background" (Wikipedia), might have argued that the ability to see something or appreciate something as being ironic vs. the inability to do so might be an indication of more cultural capital and sophistication (i.e. experience with art). This then answers the question of why irony is so popular; most people would prefer to appear culturally savvy and sophisticated than not, and poking fun at something gives you an edge over it that being earnest does not.