What Do the "Jaws" Movie and WWII Have in Common?

Or put differently, what does the Jaws shark symbolize?

This question is worth asking because Jaws taps into troubling questions about stereotypes, war, and culture.

The obvious place to start is the scene where Quint, the fisherman, describes the shark attacks that followed the sinking of the U.S.S. Indianapolis by a Japanese submarine.

Quint says, "Japanese submarine slammed two torpedoes into our side, Chief. It was comin' back from the island of Tinian Delady. Just delivered the bombthe Hiroshima bomb. Eleven hundred men went into the water. Vessel went down in twelve minutes. Didn't see the first shark for about a half an hour."

For anyone who knows WWII history, it's obvious that Quint is referring to real events, the actual sinking of the Indianapolis after it delivered the atomic bomb. It's less obvious that Quint is creating an unconscious equation between sharks and Japanese soldiers. What Quint says about a shark"he's got lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eye. When he comes at ‘ya, doesn't seem to be livin'"could just as well have been describing the WWII American stereotype of the "inscrutable" Japanese soldier with lifeless eyes. Furthermore, through such stereotypes, both the shark and the Japanese soldier were made out to be an enemy that suddenly attacks the nation on its own soil (the "sneak attack" on Pearl Harbor, like Amityville being attacked on the 4th of July), and, more specifically, a relentless enemy that hides in the water (a Japanese submarine, the shark attacking Amityville).

Japanese Submarine. Credit: Flickr, Marion Doss.

Shark fin. Credit: Flickr, Anita363.

Part of the power of Jaws, then, is that it allows Americans to explore their complicated feelings about war and cultural stereotypes. If the film had been explicitly about WWII, it probably wouldn't have reached as many people.. But as a movie about sharks, some viewersthe ones who unconsciously resonate with such symbolismare allowed to reflect on some of the most terrible, confusing aspects of "the Good War."

In particular, when the shark gets blown to pieces at the end of the movie, viewers are encouraged to feel that such destruction was necessary—while in real life polls show that Americans have felt increasingly conflicted and regretful about dropping atomic bombs on Japanese civilians. Even those Americans who felt that dropping the bomb was necessary may have later recognized, at some deep uncomfortable level, that Americans lost the moral high ground when we killed thousands of women and children. Killing all those civilians, we violated a basic moral rule that had been in place throughout our entire history as a nation. Of course, many Americans don't like to talk about this ethical problembut most do like watching this movie and rooting for the destruction of a shark that was hellbent on killing us, including our children.
Hiroshima bomb cloud.

Jaws ending.

Recognizing the Shark
It gets even more complicated when you consider American attitudes toward German soldiers in WWII. For example, here's what one American soldier remembered about a battle on the front lines near Cologne, Germany:

"We were passing the Germans we killed. Looking at the individual German dead, each took on a personality. These were no longer an abstraction. These were no longer the Germans of the brutish faces and the helmets we saw in the newsreels. They were exactly our age. These were boys like us. ...Once the helmet is off, you're looking at a teenager, another kid." Robert Rasmus, interview reprinted in Studs Terkel's book The Good War: An Oral History of WWII.

This soldier's story sounds like Quint's points about the shark's eyeshow they seem "lifeless," or as this soldier put it, like "an abstraction." German soldiers with helmets that hide their eyes also fit Quint's image of the shark, which is the underlying stereotype of all enemies in modern Western warfare: lifeless, inhuman, animalistic.

U.S. wartime poster, 1942, Office of Emergency Management..

But as noted by the American soldier, all this changes when the enemy helmet comes off, when you get up close and see that the supposed monsters are just teenage boys like you. Quint notes this same type of sudden switch in perspective when he says, "Until he [the shark] bites 'ya and those black eyes roll over white..."

In other words, Jaws and WWII both create strange oscillations between media stereotypes and individual personalities, abstract concepts and real beings. The shark seems dead but then you realize how alive he is...just before he kills you; WWII enemy soldiers seem like abstractions, but then you realize they're humans...just before you kill them.

Hope for Humanity?

I find it comforting to hear the American soldier (Rasmus) say he eventually recognized the humanity of the German soldiers.

American helping wounded German soldier, 1944. Army Surgeon General, National Archives and Records Administration.
Unfortunately, such recognition of common humanity happened less often between American and Japanese soldiers, apparently due to racial biases and the brutality of the fighting in the Pacific, but I would hope that such biases are being left behind by now.

Anyone want to suggest other stories of soldiers who have recognized the enemy's humanity? I like those stories.

Further Reading:
My post about USS Indianapolis Survivors and Their Tears

Does the Jaws shark have the eyes of God?

Robert Willson Jump Cut journal article, where he explores the resonance between Jaws and submarine movies.

3 Ways “Big Short” Movie Downplays Banker Fraud

"The Big Short" might seem like a thorough critique of Wall Street, but compared with what investment bankers actually did in the build-up to the Financial Crisis, it feels more like a public relations coup for Wall Street, a gift with a bow on it. I don’t like saying this because the movie does many things beautifully—it’s so well acted and written that it’s now the most influential movie we’ve ever had on the Financial Crisis—and I’m a huge fan of Michael Lewis, who wrote the book that the movie is based on, as well as other masterpieces like Liar's Poker and Moneyball. But this movie perpetuates such disturbing misunderstandings of Wall Street fraud that I feel compelled to point out three major problems.

1) The movie makes the bankers seem merely clueless, rather than showing how their deliberate lies to investors led to the Crisis.

For roughly the first half of the movie, we are led to believe the bankers only made one rather innocent mistake: they naively believed the mortgage industry would keep going strong, as it had for decades. Bankers at Goldman Sachs and elsewhere laugh at oddball traders like Dr. Burry (Christian Bale) who want to bet against their mortgage securities. In this telling, the bankers just couldn’t see what was coming. They were out of touch, but not crooks. We only get to know one banker who could see the crash coming, Jared Vennett (Ryan Gosling), but he was an exception that proved the movie's rule of banker naivety. He tells the crew for Mark Baum (Steve Carell) that nobody at the banks is paying attention to the worsening mortgages, that they're all asleep at the wheel. When he tries to sound the alarm at his own bank, they dismiss him with insults like“Chicken Little” and “Bubble Boy.”

This depiction of clueless bankers is not only wrong, it plays right into the hands of the banks. The movie exonerates Wall Street bankers by failing to show that they knowingly lied to investors about the rising default rates and debased loan standards on the mortgages inside the bundles they were selling. These lies weren't a matter of banker naivety, they were illegal acts of financial fraud, like a company advertising that their juice boxes contain 20% "real juice" when they actually contain no juice at all, just water and carcinogens. The massive, systematic fraud committed by Wall Street banks has been proven over and over again by historic Justice Department settlements for billions of dollars. Just search terms like “bank settlement financial crisis,” and you’ll find loads of articles, such as this one in the Wall Street Journal about the 2014 settlement with Bank of America. The title of the press release for that settlement sums it up: "Bank of America to Pay $16.65 Billion in Historic Justice Department Settlement for Financial Fraud Leading up to and During the Financial Crisis." The settlement showed that Bank of America lied to investors about the quality of the mortgages they were buying, the same fraud shown in the "$13 Billion Global Settlement with JP Morgan for Misleading Investors About Securities Containing Toxic Mortgages," and the one in which "Citigroup acknowledged it was aware that 'significant percentages' of sample loans did not comply with underwriting guidelines but the bank pooled them into securities anyway." News of these settlements didn't usually make the front pages because they didn't involve jail sentences and, in a plea-bargain type of legal fiction, sometimes lacked a technical admission of guilt, but the number of settlements, the reasons given for them in the legal statements of facts, and their record-breaking monetary penalties clearly demonstrate financial fraud. Unfortunately, though, "The Big Short" only shows oblivious, pleasant bankers at the point of sale who think Burry is crazy, which is like showing friendly car salespeople who haven't talked to the automaker's engineers or middle managers, so they don't realize what defects are inside the cars they're selling and how likely they are to blow up on impact. What a gift to Wall Street.

Moreover, the movie doesn't show how the banks’ fraud played a crucial role in the Crisis. If the banks had not continued to lie to investors about the debased lending standards used on these bundles of mortgages, the investors could have prevented the Crisis by slowing down on their purchases of mortgage securities in 2005-2007, before everything spun out of control in 2008. That’s what they call market discipline, and it was the best chance to prevent the crashnot a guarantee, but a chance. As the film rightly stresses, the government regulators, ratings agencies, and press were ignorant or co-opted, so they were not going to be any help. Yet investors, the last hope, didn't put on the brakes partly because they were given a fake picture of what they were buying—and lucky for Wall Street, the film doesn’t delve into this cause of the Crisis, not even in a cut-away scene with a celebrity.

Obviously the second half of the movie is somewhat different. Main characters throw out many angry accusations about the market prices for bonds being rigged, and together with the long scenes in Vegas, there's an overall feeling that the banks are up to no good. However, even here, the movie is garbled. Our wise guide and host throughout the story, Gosling, repeats what he said in the first half of the film, that the bankers’ problem is stupidity, not fraud. “Yes, some shady shit is going down,” he tells Carell’s angry group,” but trust me, it’s fueled by stupidity.”+ In a memorable line, Gosling flat out rejects the possibility of identifying fraud when he scoffs, “Tell me the difference between stupid and illegal and I’ll have my wife's brother arrested.”The movie doesn't go on to refute this self-serving, defeatist view; it doesn't show that, no, actually, you can tell when these banks committed fraud, and here's how they did it.

A "Vox" reviewer was therefore right to conclude that the movie's "ultimate villain isn't 'the government' or 'the evil bankers.' No, its ultimate villain is the combination of incompetence and stupidity..." As Ben Hallman of the "Huffington Post" noted, “the loaded word 'fraud’ is tossed out without adequately explaining what…was actually criminal. …[T]he movie does not stretch to show how bankers were purposely misleading clients.” These and other commentators have understood exactly what the screenwriters intended. Co-screenwriter Charles Randolph stated that after doing some reading and talking with a few friends in finance, he concluded that the bankers were clueless, that "no one had any understanding of the real underlying product." Adam McKay, the director and co-screenwriter, had the same misunderstanding, as I show in the next section. Randolph and McKay did some great work, but it's a shame they got suckered in by this notion of clueless bankers.

2) Bank Fraud Never Gets Embodied in a Central Character

This movie has many compelling characters played by fantastic actors—yet we never get one central character who puts a face on banker fraud. We get a few suggestive, fleeting characters, such as the smug guy that Steve Carell talks to in the restaurant at the Vegas convention, but there is no ongoing, central character shown knowingly lying to an actual investor, or even just someone high up in a bank taking in huge bonuses and fees from clear investor fraud. Director and Co-Screenplay Writer Adam McKay agrees that he never put a human face on banker fraud, but he sees that as a virtuous move, whereas I see it as an egregious omission and missed opportunity to get audiences to understand what went wrong. At least we agree on one thing: this lack of a human face for banker fraud helps explain why McKay's friends in finance loved this movie. As McKay told Terry Gross in a radio interview, “My financial advisor loved the movie. He really loved the movie. I have a cousin who’s in private equities, too, and he’s in private equities, and I had a little conversation with him before I saw it. I go…you know, this movie is not actually targeting bankers. …So we really went out of our way with the movie never to point the finger at any one individual; we really believe it’s a systemic issue. So, so far all the banking and finance people in my life have really enjoyed the movie.”*

Sure, why wouldn’t finance people love this movie? They can safely assume that it will be hard for most of the public to comprehend or focus their anger on an abstract “systemic issue” with no compelling characterization on screen. On top of that, the bankers get to imagine they're Ryan Gosling…

3) Bankers in This Film Are Handsome and Appealing—and, yes, a little scary, but in an all-powerful Edward Cullen way.

Ryan Gosling’s character, the only banker who gets developed into a full character, is not just handsome and smart, he's powerful, decisive, and omniscient. In a major deviation from the book, Gosling’s character becomes our all-knowing narrator and guide through this other world. He can see into the past and the future, with voice-overs and direct addresses to the camera telling us the meaning of what just happened on screen or is about to happen. Sure, he's trying to make money, but it's hard to see someone like thisa handsome, all-knowing guy who wants to take us under his wingas a villain.

Of course, nobody can know for sure exactly what audiences are going to see in Gosling or this movie as whole, and reactions will vary. But my sense, based on what viewers are saying online, is that the majority come away with continued confusion about what exactly the bankers did wrong, or a vague sense that they’re just too powerful and aggressive and something doesn’t seem right. This bothers me because this movie is one of the only chances we have at getting a wide public to truly understand what Wall Street did wrong.

I'm not asking for a fundamentally different film. Exposing banker fraud would have easily and squarely fit within this film's chosen narrative structure: namely, a story about outsider investors fighting against Wall Street bankers. For example, the film could have dramatized the sections in Michael Lewis's book on Wall Street's role in housing scams going back to the 1990s, as well as the evidence of fraud in the Financial Crisis that Lewis didn't have access to when he published his book in 2010. In fact, adding one nasty, compelling banker who knowingly engaged in investor fraud (instead of or alongside Gosling's character) would have enhanced the story by providing a concrete force for these underdogs to rail against. It would have allowed audiences to root for a classic bad-vs.-good guy story, and to know what exactly made the bad guys bad. At the very least, adding just one more cut-away scene or written epilogue would have gone a long way toward clearing up the movie's obfuscation about banker fraud.


Fun Reading: More Sources Proving Banker Fraud on Mortgage Securities
If you've only got time to read one journalist report about just how much the banks knew they were committing fraud, check out this magazine article about a whistle blower at JP Morgan Chase who witnessed repeated dishonesty and debasing of quality control in the mortgage securities being bundled and sold to investors.

But if you've got more time, check out this comprehensive book on the Crisis by financial reporters Bethany McLean and Joe Nocera, who write: “After the crisis of 2008, a common refrain arose that no one saw it coming. But that was never true. State attorneys general had filed lawsuits [against subprime lenders]. Housing advocates had continually beat the tom-toms.” An executive at one bank, Lehman Brothers, wrote a memo in 1995 describing mortgage company Famco as a “sweat shop” specializing in “high-pressure sales for people who are in a weak state.” Yet just three years later Lehman Brothers sold millions of mortgage-backed-securities for Famco. McLean and Nocera sum up as follows: Did Wall Street know what was going on? You bet it did.”.

+These movie quotations might not be 100% verbatim.

*In a separate interview for Variety, McKay clearly states that he believes there was corruption at all levels, but he doesn't include lying to investors in his three different examples of fraud, or comment on how he tried to convey all this in the movie.

What's the Cultural Meaning of the Slide in Baseball? (Peter Wogan)

Sports are like religious rituals: they reflect and instill cultural beliefs and practices. For example, the 24-second shot clock in basketball clearly reflects the fast pace of our era. So what about the slide in baseball? How does it resonate with contemporary American culture?

I think sliding reflects American ambivalence about social authority. Baseball players dress up in formal clothes, as if they're going to church or courtand then they throw themselves in the dirt.

That's the tension at the heart of both baseball and American society: respect vs. disdain for authority. Respect the rules, but kill the ump. Get dressed up, but throw yourself in the mud. Sliding is controlled social rebellion.

This social symbolism becomes more obvious when you think about the formality of the baseball uniform: white pants, a belt, a shirt with buttons all the way up the front. The impracticality of this uniform, and its extreme formality by comparison with most other sports uniforms, throws into relief baseball's social meaning.  
Flickr, Ewen and Donabel.

Most other sports won't even permit you to wear a belt (draw strings hold up pants just fine, actually better than most belts), yet baseball requires a belt. And as Paul Lukas noted on ESPN, "Once you stop and think about it...a button-front format doesn't make much sense for a sports uniform. For starters, a button-up shirt is more awkward to move around in, plus it's more formal, less sporty. That's why you wear a button-front shirt to work and some sort of pullover (T-shirt, sweatshirt, tank top, whatever) at home and on the weekend." Lukas also notes that button-up designs lead to weird problems like billowing and unaligned lettering on the front of jerseys, yet despite these problems and the viability of good alternatives, such as pull-overs, zippers, or laces, the major leagues have almost always used buttoned jerseys since the 19th century.

I would add that the persistence of formal uniforms and sliding in baseball can't be due to mere tradition. Over the years, baseball has made plenty of innovations, from the advent of batting helmets and night games to adjusting the pitcher's mound height and so on; yet the baseball uniform never lost its basic formality, and players never stopped sliding. If getting dirty in nice clothes hadn't felt rightif it hadn't continued to resonate with American ambivalence about authoritysliding probably would have been phased out a long time ago. 

Instead, sliding in a uniform still feels so right that it's hard to imagine baseball without it. As Rickey Henderson of the Oakland Athletics once said, "If my uniform doesn't get dirty, I haven't done anything in the baseball game" (quoted in Diamonds Forever, W.P. Kinsella editor, p. 121).
In fact, the slide was a novelty when first introduced in the mid-1800s and many people opposed it, arguing that players should be allowed to overrun every base rather than sliding. This is how the crowd reacted to one of the first recorded slides, during an 1859 game in Portland, Maine: "the feat fairly astonished the natives, who at first roared with laughter, but Chandler scored the run, and they then woke up to the fact that a large, new and valuable 'wrinkle' had been handed out to them" (quoted in Peter Morris's excellent book, A Game of Inches: The Stories That Shaped Baseball, p. 265).

This early phase in baseball history reminds us that there are alternative ways to reach the bases without sliding, just as basketball could be played without a shot clock. Not every sports rule or practice has social significance, but it seems fair to say sliding does.

Related Posts about Baseball:
All posts about baseball, including posts on the foul ballthe catch and sharingfeeling good in crowds, and basketball vs. baseball.

All posts about Field of Dreams (and baseball), including posts on ALS, moonlight, and Jackie Robinson.

10-Second Video of a Little League Player Stealing 2nd Base While the Pitcher's Not Looking:


Comparing Basketball, Baseball, and the Civil War: George Carlin Revisited

Updating his famous riff on Baseball vs. Football, here's what I imagine comedian George Carlin might have said about the differences between...

                                BASEBALL vs. BASKETBALL

The baseball uniform looks like a formal outfit, something you wear to church. 
The basketball uniform looks like a bathing suit, something you wear to the pool.

Baseball looks like a battlefield, with a few soldiers trying to pass through enemy territory. 
Basketball looks like a dance floor, with couples trying to decide who they should dance with next.

Baseball is played on green grass.
Basketball is played on a beige hardwood floor.

In short, baseball comes out of 19th-century pastoral America. Basketball comes out of 20th-century office culture: fast-paced, lots of teamwork and immediate, visible rewards, all played out under florescent lights and clean indoor spaces.


Not as Funny, but Baseball Is Connected to War:
To great comic effect, Carlin played up baseball's contrast with football, but I think he knew that baseball actually had a violent side as well. He probably would have agreed with former Commissioner Giamatti, who once said baseball consists of a man standing on a hill throwing a rock at a man below him holding a club. I don't know if Carlin would have gone this far, but I believe that baseball is as much rooted in war as footballit's just a different kind of war. 

The original warfare model in baseball was the American Civil War in the 19th century, when soldiers from far-flung states spread enthusiasm for this game and started to standardize its rules of play.
Painting by Otto Boetticher, "Union Prisoners [playing baseball] at Salisbury, N.C." See also George Kirsch, Baseball in Blue and Gray.)

Moreover, I would argue that the specific combat style of the Civil Warline infantryprovided a subtle model for baseball, giving it special resonance and popularity. The central challenge for a soldier in the Civil War was to have the courage to stand on the field while someone shot at him from close rangethe same challenge faced by a batter who has to stand in place while a pitcher throws a hard projectile at him at upwards of 90mph. The Civil War and baseball's underlying combat structure was not World War II's "long bombs" and "aerial assaults," which Carlin rightly correlates with football. Instead, baseball came out of the line warfare of the Civil War: standing out in the open while the enemy fired on you and you tried to return fire and get closer to them.

Civil War Reenactment
Of course, baseball changed this war format around, especially by focusing the showdown on the individual vs. the social group (1 batter vs. 9 fielders), and very few people today are literally thinking of the Civil War or line warfare when they watch or play baseball. Times change, and symbols get redeployed. Yet baseball clearly still has violence and courage at its core in the pitcher-batter duel. Through baseball, the Civil War has been ritualized and turned into contemporary art.

Even if you don't know anything about baseball's historical origins, you still understand the courage and honor it takes to stand up to a fastball thrown inches away from your body. And you know what it's like to want to go home. As George Carlin said, "I just want to go home! I hope I'll be safe at home!"

Related posts:

Further Reading on Baseball's Connections with the Civil War:
See this online article by Philip Gerard, and the sections on the spread of Civil War battlefield signals to baseball's sign system in The Hidden Language of Baseball (p. 24-34).

5 Reasons Why "Twilight" is So Popular

Reasons for the Popularity of the Twilight Saga that You Might Not Have Heard Before:

1) Ambivalence about Red Meat
In recent years there’s been growing discomfort in the Western world about eating red meat, particularly among young girls who object to the blood and killing...yet the overwhelming majority still eat red meat. The image of the Cullens, “vegetarian vampires” who struggle with their urges to drink human blood, plays upon these ambivalent feelings about meat (not to mention sexuality).

2) Bring Back the Wolf
Let’s not forget Jacob…and environmentalism. As anthropologist Lee Drummond notes, Americans’ relationships with animals has become polarized, caught between extremes of household pets and distant predators like the wolf, mostly known through mass media and environmental campaigns. Twilight’s cute werewolf, Jacob, directly addresses this schism.

(Wikipedia, "Gray Wolf")

3) And the Blood
Twilight confronts another paradox: blood is pervasive, from wars to menstruation, yet it’s usually carefully hidden from view in contemporary American society. As Drummond argues, blood in Twilight thereby addresses fundamental issues about male and female, life and death, gender and sexuality.

4) Multi-ethnic Unions
It’s not a coincidence that both Edward and Bella are exceedingly pale (i.e., "white"), while Jacob, the other side of the love triangle, has a darker complexion and is Native American. As anthropologist John McCreery notes, the film is dealing with the appeal, realities, and complexities of multi-ethnic unions in contemporary society.

5) All the Usual Reasons Vampires are Cool
Vampires have what many humans want: power, beauty, wealth, mystery, sex appeal, immortality, boundary-crossing abilities, etc. Twilight partakes of a long line of vampire stories, as well as previous fashions like “heroin chic,” as John McCreery notes.

Usual caveats: These 5 explanations don’t apply to everyone, nor cover all the many possible reasons for Twilight’s appeal. They're just something to think about.

Join the Discussion:
These ideas, among many others, have emerged from an exploratory, sky’s-the-limit discussion about Twilight that has been going on since March, 2014 at the Open Anthropology Cooperative, led by Lee Drummond as a driving force. Lee and the others welcome new voices, so please consider joining. You can read specific posts at the links below and sign up to join the discussion here.

I also recommend Lee Drummond’s book American Dreamtime, where he provides superb anthropological analyses of movies like E.T., Star Wars, and Jaws (full text on Center for Peripheral Studies website).

Credits, Links, and Elaborations:

 1) Declining Red-Meat Consumption
For example, one study showed a 39% decline in American consumption of red meat from 2009-2012; another study showed that young females in Australia and the U.K. are 3 times as likely as males to be vegetarian; and one of the main reasons young females gave for being vegetarian is that they don’t like ingesting blood (posted by me on Open Anthropology Cooperative, “From the Center for Peripheral Studies, After Lance....” direct link on p. 69).

2) Wolves
Lee Drummond wrote:
In a world where our experience with farm animals has dwindled to next to nothing, we readily consume hours of documentaries and talking-head accounts about the lives of physically distant animals such as major predators.  The wolf in particular is without doubt the most stigmatized of animals – bestial man-eater, ally of demons, stalker of Little Red Riding Hood.  And yet, Bella’s only other significant alliance in Forks is with Jacob, wolf-boy, werewolf.  Could it be that the rehabilitation of the wolf – a major hot button issue today – is accomplished in Twilight through a love affair? (OAC, p. 66).

3) Blood
Lee Drummond wrote:
Our lives are awash with blood, blood from animal slaughter, from our endless wars, from street crime and other gun violence, from menstruation, childbirth, and abortion.  Yet it is all ever so carefully hidden.  Bella personifies that need to hide blood from view; she is terrified of it, faints at the sight of it.  And yet she wants, with every fiber of her being, to become one whose entire existence is predicated on human blood.  In aspiring to become a vampire, she bridges two disparate and seemingly irreconcilable identities of life-giver and life-taker…. (OAC, p. 70).

4) Multi-ethnic Unions
John McCreery wrote:
As Danah Boyd points out in It's Complicated, racial and ethnic divisions in behaviour may still be prevalent; but in any major metropolitan area, which is where the majority of Americans now live, multiethnic or multiracial couples are becoming commonplace (OAC, p. 78).

5) Other Reasons
These are touched on at various points in the OAC Forum, and developed at greater length in various websites and the vast scholarly literature on vampires.

Spaghetti, Syrup, and Escalators: Interpreting Culture Shock in "Elf"

The movie Elf wouldn't be so funny if it didn't contain a surprising element of truth. I mean, yes, pouring maple syrup on spaghetti is really funny, but is it that far-fetched? Americans eat waffles and syrup, sweet and sour pork, and other combinations of sweetness and carbohydrates, so why not syrup and spaghetti?
It's still gross (and funny) to imagine putting syrup on spaghetti, so perhaps a better example of the power of social convention is the lesson Buddy (Will Ferrell) gets from his human brother about proper dating etiquette. The brother tells Buddy that he should take his female co-worker on a date by asking her "to eat food," but it has to be "real food, not candy." The movie is again making a joke by pointing out that a custom Americans take for granted seems arbitrary and strange from a kid or elf's perspective. What makes this joke especially interesting, though, is that it exposes a puzzle in American culture: Why does our culture tell us to to eat nothing but sweets for other rituals, but not first dates? After all, Americans offer and consume pure candy on other ritual occasions, such as Valentine's Day, and these sweet rituals make perfect sense from a biological perspective: attraction to sweet tastes is one of the few biological universals we humans (raised by humans) share. So why don't we sip maple syrup or Coca Cola, and nibble on fine chocolates, on first dates?

There's an even better authority here than mere biological science: Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting. In the Harvard bar scene in this movie, after Skylar (Minnie Driver) gives Will (Damon) her phone number, she says, "Maybe we could go out for a cup of coffee sometime?"

"Great," Will says, "Or maybe we could go somewhere and just eat a bunch of caramels."Skylar is baffled, so Will explains, "When you think about it, it's just as arbitrary as drinking coffee."

Will is making a reasonable anthropological point: American culture has some weird rules for the ritual consumption of food and drink.

I'm not trying to convince readers to run out and eat caramels or put syrup on their spaghetti, I'm just saying that Elf exposes the cultural nature of American customs that are usually taken for granted, from food habits to escalators. Buddy reminds us that an escalator really is a scary machine with gnashing metal teeth, a modern contraption that is literally and metaphorically "earth-shattering." His escalator ride creates a perfect body metaphor for the disorientation caused by culture shock.


That’s what culture shock does at its best: it gives us a fresh way to see things, including escalators and hyperbolic advertisements for the “world’s best cup of coffee.” ("You did it! Congratulations!")

The popularity of movies like Elf shows that people enjoy culture shock for the sheer joy of surprise and illumination. Even neuroscience research proves comedy and cognition are linked: on fMRI tests, the same parts of research subjects’ brains light up when they solve word puzzles and when they watch videos of stand-up comedy. In the best comedies, like Elf, we're laughing and thinking at the same time.

Of course, one could also argue that this movie masks the nasty underbelly of Christmas: the rampant materialism made possible by sweat shop labor, which we don't have to feel bad about because these are happy elf-workers, all chained to their little stations in the North Pole. Sorry, taking the analysis in that direction would be like crying, "Bah, humbug," so I want to end with a more uplifting, personal story about Christmas and escalators...

Several years ago, after Christmas vacation, I was flying out of Newark Airport, not far from New York City, where Buddy the Elf had his adventures. I always love airports—the intersection of cultures, the people in transition—but the Newark Airport is fairly large and impersonal, and on this particular morning, it was filled with long lines and grumpy people. I overheard one passenger say to a counter attendant, "How friggin' rude."  I myself was low on sleep and rushing to catch a flight back to Oregon, so I tried to keep my head down and not interact with anyone.
Newark Airport, Manhattan in background. Credit Ramriot, Flckr.
When I got to the foot of an escalator, though, a South Asian woman in a sari tapped me on the shoulder and I had to stop. She couldn’t speak English, but she smiled broadly and then started to guide the hand of her small son, about 4 years old, toward me. A couple confusing possibilities raced through my mind. Was this a trick to exploit my sympathy for a mother and her little kid, who was, in fact, adorable? Did she not know how to find her gate? Did she lose something inside the escalator?

She just kept smiling, offering me the little boy’s hand, and speaking in an incomprehensible foreign language. Then I figured out the problem. She had two little boys (her other son was even younger) and a large suitcase. She couldn’t hold onto her two sons' hands and the suitcase while riding the escalator. She was forced to do what no mother should ever have to do: ask a stranger to take her little boy's hand in a crowded public place.

Suddenly it all  made sense, and I felt like a total jerk for having distrusted her. Of course I agreed to help.

When the boy put his small hand in mine, the harsh airport atmosphere melted away and I felt it—pure human connection.

Riding up the escalator, the little boy held my hand and looked back and forth between me, the moving stairs, and his mother, standing right behind him, whispering words of assurance. Near the top, as the stairs disappeared into thin air, he showed no signs of stepping off, so I picked him up high in the air and set him back down on the ground when we got to the end, as if this were a little game. Once the boy got a couple years older, he'd surely master the escalator and treat it like a joyride, but at that point he just looked confused.

I wanted to make sure they made it to their gate safely, and suddenly wished I could find out all about them—where they came from, where they were headed, who was waiting for them on the other side. But the mother just mumbled a quick thank you, took her boy’s hand, and sped off in the opposite direction.

I never saw that mother and her boys again, but I've thought about them many times. I hope they reached their destination.

Christmas should be like my escalator ride with that boy—moments that move the ground beneath our feet.


Journal Article (for the anthro fanatics):
If you want an anthropological analysis of "culture contact" in a different (yet strangely related) context, see “What’s So Funny about First Contact?” Visual Anthropology Review 22:14-33, 2006. In this journal article, I analyze a documentary about first contact in the 1930s between Australian goldminers and aboriginal peoples in Papua New Guinea, especially in terms of audience perceptions and Westerners’ fascination with technology as a ritual of supremacy, but also as a source of surprise and “wonder."

Golf's Spatial and Spiritual Dimensions

What is going on with that weird posture in golf, all that hunching over? And what about those mystical relations between the ball, land, sky, and player? I got interested in questions like these for personal reasons. My father-in-law has been battling with Parkinson's disease, trying to maintain his balance and coordination and dignity in the face of the disease's relentless attack on his nervous system, and he has fought particularly hard not to let Parkinson's take away his golf game, one of his greatest joys. Over the last decade, he made compromises. He accepted that his shots wouldn't go as far as they used to. Sometimes he fell down on the golf course. But he refused to give up. He also insisted on teaching me how to play. In fact, the worse his shot got, the more determined he seemed to teach me how to hit the ball right. I still can't say my shot has gotten very good, but I've felt as close to him on the golf course as anytime in the years we've known each other. And while walking through the grass and searching for my ball in the woods, I've had ample chances to reflect on golf's mysteries and how this game gets inside your soul. Here are a few tentative thoughts.

The Set-Up

The union with the ball begins with the set-up stance, in which the golfer stares down at the ball, head bowed, as if in prayer. Few other sports require such single-minded focus on a stationary ball. In sports like baseball, basketball, and football, the ball moves too fast for anyone to get a lock on it; in golf, every play begins with a mini-meditation on the ball.

 Flickr Rennett Stowe 

Watching the Shot

In the switch from the stationary set-up position to the swing and then the ball’s soaring flight, the golfer undergoes a sudden, radical shift in perspective—from head bowed to head raised, from a focus on earth to sky, low to high, abjection to transcendence. Having started off like a prayerful hunchback, the golfer soars like a bird.                         
Flickr Russ Glasson

Flickr North Central College Long Shot

I say "the golfer soars like a bird" because the golfer is now intimately connected with the ball, as if it were his or her spirit double. The ball traveling through the air mimics the golfer's mind and body so precisely that its flight path reveals microscopic, hidden tics in the swing that even the golfer often can't consciously recognize. Once golfers see the ball going astray, they often apply "body English," contorting their bodies up and down, to the right, left, and sideways, as if the ball, sensing the golfer's desperate movements behind them, will feel obliged to change course, to please its human twin. Even golfers who suppress these spontaneous movements often still talk to their ball, whispering, begging, yelling, and otherwise imploring in such sincere tones that they almost seem to genuinely believe the ball can hear them. Whether mystical or maddening, it's hard to deny the felt union between ball and player.

A pro putting body English on a hook shot (Anyonefortee.com)
Even President Obama needs body English sometimes (Flickr Madu Babu Pandi)

Of course, you sometimes see body English applied in other sports as well, and that's for good reason: the same magical principle of "like produces like" appears around the world and throughout human history. This is what anthropologists call “sympathetic magic,” a long-standing, common type of magic found in everything from a love potion made with red flowers to induce a red heart, to bowlers who spontaneously jump to the left or right when they see their ball heading for the gutter. By slowing down the game and putting the focus on the ball's flight path, golf makes such sympathetic magic a central part of the sport's experience.

Searching for the Ball

Once the ball lands, the player assumes yet a different relationship with it. The ball is now a tiny white dot in the distance, whether nestled far off in the grass, or, worse, out of sight in the woods, water, or sand. Searching for the ball forces more mindful concentration on it and the natural surroundings. Moreover, the player again experiences what novelist John Updike calls the "intoxicating relativity" of golf, i.e., the constant changes in scale and spatial relations as the golfer and his or her ball move through the game. Updike writes, “As it moves through the adventures of a golf match, the human body, like Alice’s in Wonderland, experiences an intoxicating relativity—huge in relation to the ball, tiny in relation to the course, exactly matched to that of other players” (Golf Dreams, "The Bliss of Golf," 1997, p. 147-150). (Whatever you might think about Updike's fiction, it's fair to say his reflections on golf are as insightful as his famous essay about Ted Williams' final home run.)

FlickR Erik Anestad
Although Updike is referring here to the tininess of the golfer’s body in relation to the course, his point also applies to the golfer’s spirit double, the ball itself, which is even tinier in relation to the course terrain. Here's the way Updike puts it: “To see one’s ball gallop two hundred and more yards down the fairway, or see it fly from the face of an 8-iron clear across an entire copse of maples in full autumnal flare, is to join one’s soul with the vastness that, contemplated from another angle, intimidates the spirit, and makes one feel small."  In other words, the ball induces a sense of the golfer's place in nature and the universe—connected yet humbled, as in religious experiences.

Flickr Andreas Krappweis

If talk of the universe and religion still sounds like romantic hyperbole, remember that sheer scale can fundamentally change a person's emotional experience, as anyone will attest who has ever felt awe and wonder at the grandness of the ocean, mountains, or stars, or just a beautiful, tall cathedral or large-canvass painting. Joseph Parent, author of Zen Golf, seemed to be getting at the same point when he said, "we also experience what we see, so perhaps our mind is as big as our field of vision. What if I asked you to imagine the farthest star in the galaxy? Now how big is your mind?" (2002, p. 15).

Of course, I try not to think about all this when I'm swinging. I just listen to my father-in-law's advice ("hold the club gently, like you're holding a bird...feet shoulder-width apart"), bow my head, swing, watch the ball fly—and hope it reaches its destination.