Broadly
construed, Herman Gray’s article “The Transformation of the Television Industry
and the Social Production of Blackness” questions the idea that the sudden
proliferation of “black-oriented programming” in the mid/late 1980s was driven
by the noble goals of culturally-savvy network executives; instead, he suggests
that TV’s recognition and engagement with “blackness” evolved primarily from
commercial media’s quest to generate profit by “identifying and packaging our
dominant social and cultural moods” (68-69). As he constructs his argument, Gray
is careful to declare that he’d like to focus on “political economic
transformations and institutional conditions in the television industry” rather
than use textual analysis alone (62). Hence, he highlights a shifting set of
political, economic, and institutional conditions – such as the creation of
multinational media conglomerates; the formation of the Fox Broadcasting Company
in 1986; the popularity of videocassette recorders and video games as home
entertainment alternatives to network programming; a relaxed regulatory
environment under Reagan/Bush; etc. – that altogether contributed to an
environment in which programming aimed at black audiences emerged as “a low
risk, potentially profitable object of television” (63, 66). Gray is wise to
extend his research beyond the parameters of textual analysis, because it
results in an illuminating article, but I think he’d admit that textual
analysis can still bolster his argument. In particular, I’d suggest that textual
analysis may strengthen our understanding of his claim that highly visible
media personalities “helped to focus, organize, and translate blackness into
commodifiable representations and desires that could be packaged and marketed
across the landscape of American popular culture” (68).
To that end, I’d
like to briefly discuss two commercials that were released in 1993. The first is
a McDonald’s ad that features Michael Jordan and Larry Bird playing a game of
HORSE for Jordan’s Big Mac:
Their shots
become ever more elaborate and unrealistic, but the two players make everything.
Because neither player misses, there’s not a true resolution to the
competition; effectively, Bird (nicknamed “The Great White Hope” by some
commentators) and Jordan (one of the most famous black athletes of all time) are
signified as equals with no discernible difference between them. This probably
isn’t the place to have a debate about which player was historically better (at
jump-shots, or even trick-shots), but in 1993 Bird had just retired and Jordan was
attempting to win his third consecutive MVP – indisputably, Jordan was the more
transcendent player at that particular moment. Despite great stats, Jordan
would actually lose the 1993 MVP award to Charles Barkley, who also starred in
a famous commercial that year:
In terms of
tone, Barkley’s Nike commercial starkly contrasts with the Jordan/Bird McDonald’s
ad. It’s kinetic, pugnacious, and – with respect to Barkley’s disavowal of his
“role model” persona – seemingly subversive. Barkley resists becoming a symbolic
figure, a representative case. Looking at these commercials, the argument could
be made [and I find this argument potentially flawed, but useful as a
hypothetical] that, whereas Jordan buys into an idealized portrait of a
“postracial” competition where race isn’t an organizing principle, Barkley confronts
viewers in a way that disrupts their attempts to naturalize his identity according
to dominant cultural norms.
To complicate this
argument, Gray might posit that the commercials aren’t so divergent after all. In
his article he suggests that, given political, organizational, and economic
conditions at networks in the late 80s, networks responded with narrowcasting
and niche marketing that were meant to exploit black images and representations
as a means of generating profit (66). Insofar as the McDonald’s and Nike
commercials circulate different signs of “blackness,” they would both remain –
in Gray’s eyes – indicative of TV’s tendency to shape-shift and thus
organize/articulate different audiences, desires, identifications, and
meanings. As a cultural institution, TV is unnaturally good at harmonizing
dissonance.
Thanks for this great post, Zeke! The only thing I love more than TV from the '80s and '90 is commercials from the era—especially ones that raise such important questions. Just to historicize a bit, I think it's important to say that this different levels of blackness has come up through the history of sports, most notably before Jordan/Barkley in boxing with Floyd Patterson and Muhammad Ali (Cassius Clay when they fought in '65). I wonder if this is something inserted into the discourse by white journalist looking for some "better" (whiter) black man on which to hang their hat (Jordan has always been seen as somehow outside the standard racial boundaries).
ReplyDeleteAnd when talking basketball commercials on TV, I think it's important to mention Spike Lee's Mars Blackmon spots for Nike Jordans from 1989 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8nl0w2Eyj_k) and how totally revolutionary that was. This was part of a bigger marketing push into the black market and relates to the work of Sonny Vaccaro and the historic stresses of amateur athletics and sports merchandise (shoes). This also relates to TV spaces like the golden years of MTV when they had "Yo! MTV Raps" on in the afternoon and music fans of all races watched.
It also is an important moment as it got white males (urban and suburban) into a closer proximity with their black cohort and led to the rise in popularity of ESPN SportsCenter and icons there like Stewart Scott (another Tar Heel), who brought "black" basketball language to a white audience. The fact that any of us might say "my bad" when we screw something up is related to all of this. A phrase that comes from the basketball court—a totally marginalized space through the 1970s—emerged into rather common non-racialized parlance though the push of people like Vaccaro, Jordan, Lee, Barkley, Scott (and Manute Bol).