Author: gunadim

During the rough years of middle school, a friend and I were comforted by the shows Once Upon A Time (2011) and The Flash (2014). Both shows referenced and included popular and lesser known icons into their existing “universe” and demonstrate why the Fully Interactive Model is the most accurate out of Gray’s four models for how intertextuality exists in media.

First, The Flash often references other shows also produced by CW. Supergirl, Arrow and Legends of Tomorrow all include cameos of other major or minor characters from each show. The show also is obviously based on the DC comics. In this way The Flash can be seen from the Hierarchical Model (The DC comics influenced the show) and the Working Together Model, where all CW shows are all part of the same “team” through their similar messages, themes, and tendencies. However, because The Flash’s intertextuality combines both the Hierarchical Model and the Working Together Model, I believe the show actually is best seen through the lens of the Fully Interactive Model. Even though the show is influenced by the DC comics, it is also influencing the comics through its modern retelling. Nowadays, most people in my generation will think of the show when hearing “The Flash”. The interconnectedness of the CW universe also supports the Fully Interactive Model through changing the plot of each show, going beyond the limits of the Working Together Model.

Similarly, Once Upon a Time draws upon world-wide famous characters but with the twist of putting them in the modern world. Through this twist, the show challenges our expectations of villains and heroes, making each character more realistic and morally gray. In this way, the show also disrupts the Hierarchical Model and integrates a new perspective into the existing universe of fantasy media.

As more shows include crossovers and references to build a loyal fan base, the fully interactive model seems to be more relevant when analyzing intertextuality.

As a self-identified “foodie”, FX’s The Bear satisfies viewers through mouth-watering scenes of cooking. From a montage of noodles to the viral chip omelet scene, the show sticks true to its inspiration of owning a restaurant. The homage is continued with the portrayal of a hectic restaurant environment which drives the plot of the show, telling an unconventional story with an imperfect but lovable cast. 

However, I believe the true reason The Bear received such high acclaim is because of its artistic serialized narratives–each which have different emotional beats and themes. As a result, the show demonstrates the topics from Jason Mittel’s paper about narrative complexity. For example, most of the episodes feature simple arcs about the wide cast of characters in only 20 minutes. However, in the episodes “Fishes” and “Forks”, The Bear upends preconceived notions about the show.

First, Fishes contradicts previous episodes by throwing the audience four years into the past without any context. Here, we learn about the main character’s messy family history and drama, which is brought up in later episodes but is not ever central to the plot outside of Fishes. The episode works as a satisfying stand alone episode and can even be skipped without any harm to the overall season arc. However, the episode adds new emotional depth to the film for dedicated viewers who praise the show for its narratively complexity.

Forks is also a mostly stand alone episode which introduces narrative complexity through only focusing on one character, Richie. Here, the episode is important for the rest of the season because Richie saves the restaurant during the finale using the skills he learned in Forks. However, the episode also interests long time viewers through introducing a different restaurant and setting. The audience can recognize similar themes to other episodes, however the novelty of a different cast and environment intrigue the possibility of a spin-off show.

Season 2 of the Bear is one of my favorite shows I have ever binged. It’s hard for me to pinpoint all the ways the show works, in many ways it feels like the show is overwhelmingly impossible to appreciate. Still, the relationship between episodes and the overall arc of the season is unique and leaves the door open for future narratively complex shows.

My family rarely watched television together. My parents liked the news, my younger siblings liked Disney Channel, and my older sister liked robotics meetings. However, there was one exception: The Amazing Race. My family and I watched each season religiously for over 5 years, I even had an amazing race themed birthday party in second grade. We were obsessed with thinking about which family members would make the best (or worst) teams and enjoyed fighting about who we should root for. I’m not exactly sure why The Amazing Race became our favorite show but to fund such an expensive show for 36 seasons clearly means my family was not alone. 36 seasons also means The Amazing Race is clearly profitable. 

At around 8:30 pm on April 3, Survivor players voted Mo off the island and credits began to roll. Then, The Amazing Race played and immediately everyone in the Weitz Cinema was bombarded by Expedia ads. It makes sense that the average viewer of Amazing Race would be enticed to travel from watching an episode. However, the bluntness of the programming and flow felt shocking to me. But then I had an epiphany–The Amazing Race is already an ad in itself.

Amazing Race sells a thirst for adventure and idealized view of traveling. Whether it’s eating an insane amount of foreign foods (to the point contestants would often throw up) or yelling at a taxi driver, “FAST, RÁPIDO, MUY RÁPIDO POR FAVOR”, or skydiving, it seems that contestants are being fully immersed in new landscapes and ways of life. The show is yelling at its audience to be free! We should just break out of our comfort zones, leave our jobs, and embark on a tour around the world!

Yet, in reality the contestants don’t seem to be enjoying their once-in-a-lifetime experience. Sometimes they don’t even seem to know what country they’re in. The show, quite ironically, strays away from a romanticized representation of travel by forcing their competitors to focus on superficial tasks, all for the goal of 1 million dollars. Locals are never interviewed during the episode. Oftentimes, they are literal mascots only to be seen at the finish line of each episode.

Looking back, I like to think my family enjoyed The Amazing Race not because of its consumerist themes about traveling and undertones of the exploitation that occurs in the tourism industry, but because of the message of teamwork it offers. Contestants are constantly put into infuriating positions (often traffic) or face a buildup of mental stress that is unleashed upon their partner. Only the teams that can tread the line between supporting one another while adapting on the spot can stay competitive in the race. 

At the end of the day, even with all the problems The Amazing Race has, I still loved watching my favorite childhood show. Decoding the show as a big advertisement doesn’t change the fact that the competition aspect of the show is very entertaining. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll compete on The Amazing Race and follow the footsteps of that one Carleton alumni who won 1 million dollars.