The 'Grammar' of Television and

Film

Television and film use certain common conventions often

referred to as the 'grammar' of these audiovisual media. This list

includes some of the most important conventions for conveying

meaning through particular camera and editing techniques (as

well as some of the specialised vocabulary of film production).

Conventions aren't rules: expert practitioners break them for

deliberate effect, which is one of the rare occasions that we

become aware of what the convention is.

Camera Techniques: Distance and Angle

Long shot (LS). Shot which shows all or most of a fairly large

subject (for example, a person) and usually much of the

surroundings. Extreme Long Shot (ELS) - see establishing shot:

In this type of shot the camera is at its furthest distance from the

subject, emphasising the background. Medium Long Shot

(MLS): In the case of a standing actor, the lower frame line cuts

off his feet and ankles. Some documentaries with social themes

favour keeping people in the longer shots, keeping social

circumstances rather than the individual as the focus of attention.

Establishing shot. Opening shot or sequence, frequently an

exterior 'General View' as an Extreme Long Shot (ELS). Used to

set the scene.

Medium shots. Medium Shot or Mid-Shot (MS). In such a shot

the subject or actor and its setting occupy roughly equal areas in

the frame. In the case of the standing actor, the lower frame

passes through the waist. There is space for hand gestures to be

seen. Medium Close Shot (MCS): The setting can still be seen.

The lower frame line passes through the chest of the actor.

Medium shots are frequently used for the tight presentation of

two actors (the two shot), or with dexterity three (the three

shot).

Close-up (CU). A picture which shows a fairly small part of the

scene, such as a character's face, in great detail so that it fills the

screen. It abstracts the subject from a context. MCU (Medium

Close-Up): head and shoulders. BCU (Big Close-Up): forehead

to chin. Close-ups focus attention on a person's feelings or

reactions, and is sometimes used in interviews to show people in

a state of emotional excitement, grief or joy. In interviews, the

use of BCUs may emphasise the interviewee's tension and

suggest lying or guilt. BCUs are rarely used for important public

figures; MCUs are preferred, the camera providing a sense of

distance. Note that in western cultures the space within about 24

inches (60 cm) is generally felt to be private space, and BCUs

may be invasive.

Angle of shot. The direction and height from which the camera

takes the scene. The convention is that in 'factual' programmes

subjects should be shot from eye-level only. In a high angle the

camera looks down at a character, making the viewer feel more

powerful than him or her, or suggesting an air of detachment. A

low angle shot places camera below the character, exaggerating

his or her importance. An overhead shot is one made from a

position directly above the action.

Viewpoint. The apparent distance and angle from which the

camera views and records the subject. Not to be confused with

point-of-view shots or subjective camera shots.

Point-of-view shot (POV). A shot made from a camera

position close to the line of sight of a performer who is to be

watching the action shown in the point-of-view shot.

Two-shot. A shot of two people together.

Selective focus. Rendering only part of the action field in sharp

focus through the use of a shallow depth of field. A shift of

focus from foreground to background or vice versa is called rack

focus.

Soft focus. An effect in which the sharpness of an image, or

part of it, is reduced by the use of an optical device.

Wide-angle shot. A shot of a broad field of action taken with a

wide-angle lens.

Tilted shot. When the camera is tilted on its axis so that

normally vertical lines appear slanted to the left or right, ordinary

expectations are frustrated. Such shots are often used in mystery

and suspense films to create a sense of unease in the viewer.

Camera Techniques: Movement

Zoom. In zooming in the camera does not move; the lens is

focussed down from a long-shot to a close-up whilst the picture

is still being shown. The subject is magnified, and attention is

concentrated on details previously invisible as the shot tightens

(contrast tracking). It may be used to surprise the viewer.

Zooming out reveals more of the scene (perhaps where a

character is, or to whom he or she is speaking) as the shot

widens. Zooming in rapidly brings not only the subject but also

the background hurtling towards the viewer, which can be

disconcerting. Zooming in and then out creates an ugly 'yo-yo'

effect.

Following pan. The camera swivels (in the same base position)

to follow a moving subject. A space is left in front of the subject:

the pan 'leads' rather than 'trails'. A pan usually begins and ends

with a few seconds of still picture to give greater impact. The

speed of a pan across a subject creates a particular mood as well

as establishing the viewer's relationship with the subject.

'Hosepiping' is continually panning across from one person to

another; it looks clumsy.

Surveying pan. The camera slowly searches the scene: may

build to a climax or anticlimax.

Tilt. A vertical movement of the camera - up or down- while the

camera mounting stays fixed.

Crab. The camera moves (crabs) right or left.

Tracking (dollying). Tracking involves the camera itself being

moved smoothly towards or away from the subject (contrast

with zooming). Tracking in (like zooming) draws the viewer into

a closer, more intense relationship with the subject; moving

away tends to create emotional distance. Tracking back tends to

divert attention to the edges of the screen. The speed of tracking

may affect the viewer's mood. Rapid tracking (especially

tracking in) is exciting; tracking back relaxes interest. In a

dramatic narrative we may sometimes be drawn forward

towards a subject against our will. Camera movement parallel to

a moving subject permits speed without drawing attention to the

camera itself.

Hand-held camera. A hand-held camera can produce a jerky,

bouncy, unsteady image which may create a sense of immediacy

or chaos. Its use is a form of subjective treatment.

Process shot. A shot made of action in front of a rear projection

screen having on it still or moving images as a background.

Editing Techniques

Cut. Sudden change of shot from one viewpoint or location to

another. On television cuts occur on average about every 7 or 8

seconds. Cutting may:

change the scene;

compress time;

vary the point of view; or

build up an image or idea.

There is always a reason for a cut, and you should ask yourself

what the reason is. Less abrupt transitions are achieved with the

fade, dissolve, and wipe

Matched cut. In a 'matched cut' a familiar relationship between

the shots may make the change seem smooth:

continuity of direction;

completed action;*

a similar centre of attention in the frame;

a one-step change of shot size (e.g. long to medium);

a change of angle (conventionally at least 30 degrees).

*The cut is usually made on an action (for example, a person

begins to turn towards a door in one shot; the next shot, taken

from the doorway, catches him completing the turn). Because

the viewer's eye is absorbed by the action he is unlikely to notice

the movement of the cut itself.

Jump cut. Abrupt switch from one scene to another which may

be used deliberately to make a dramatic point. Sometimes boldly

used to begin or end action. Alternatively, it may be result of

poor pictorial continuity, perhaps from deleting a section.

Motivated cut. Cut made just at the point where what has

occurred makes the viewer immediately want to see something

which is not currently visible (causing us, for instance, to accept

compression of time). A typical feature is the shot/reverse shot

technique (cuts coinciding with changes of speaker). Editing and

camera work appear to be determined by the action. It is

intimately associated with the 'privileged point of view' (see

narrative style: objectivity).

Cutting rate. Frequent cuts may be used as deliberate

interruptions to shock, surprise or emphasize.

Cutting rhythm. A cutting rhythm may be progressively

shortened to increase tension. Cutting rhythm may create an

exciting, lyrical or staccato effect in the viewer.

Cross-cut. A cut from one line of action to another. Also applied

as an adjectuve to sequences which use such cuts.

Cutaway/cutaway shot (CA). A bridging, intercut shot between

two shots of the same subject. It represents a secondary activity

occurring at the same time as the main action. It may be

preceded by a definite look or glance out of frame by a

participant, or it may show something of which those in the

preceding shot are unaware. (See narrative style: parallel

development) It may be used to avoid the technical ugliness of a

'jump cut' where there would be uncomfortable jumps in time,

place or viewpoint. It is often used to shortcut the passing of

time.

Reaction shot. Any shot, usually a cutaway, in which a

participant reacts to action which has just occurred.

Insert/insert shot. A bridging close-up shot inserted into the

larger context, offering an essential detail of the scene (or a

reshooting of the action with a different shot size or angle.)

Buffer shot (neutral shot). A bridging shot (normally taken

with a separate camera) to separate two shots which would have

reversed the continuity of direction.

Fade, dissolve (mix). Both fades and dissolves are gradual

transitions between shots. In a fade the picture gradually appears

from (fades in) or disappears to (fades out) a blank screen. A

slow fade-in is a quiet introduction to a scene; a slow fade-out is

a peaceful ending. Time lapses are often suggested by a slow

fade-out and fade-in. A dissolve (or mix) involves fading out one

picture while fading up another on top of it. The impression is of

an image merging into and then becoming another. A slow mix

usually suggests differences in time and place. Defocus or ripple

dissolves are sometimes used to indicate flashbacks in time.

Superimpositions. Two of more images placed directly over

each other (e.g. and eye and a camera lens to create a visual

metaphor).

Wipe. An optical effect marking a transition between two shots.

It appears to supplant an image by wiping it off the screen (as a

line or in some complex pattern, such as by appearing to turn a

page). The wipe is a technique which draws attention to itself

and acts as a clear marker of change.

Inset. An inset is a special visual effect whereby a reduced shot

is superimposed on the main shot. Often used to reveal a

close-up detail of the main shot.

Split screen. The division of the screen into parts which can

show the viewer several images at the same time (sometimes the

same action from slightly different perspectives, sometimes

similar actions at different times). This can convey the

excitement and frenzy of certain activities, but it can also

overload the viewer.

Stock shot. Footage already available and used for another

purpose than the one for which it was originally filmed.

Invisible editing: See narrative style: continuity editing.

Manipulating Time

Screen time: a period of time represented by events within a

film (e.g. a day, a week).

Subjective time. The time experienced or felt by a character in

a film, as revealed through camera movement and editing (e.g.

when a frightened person's flight from danger is prolonged).

Compressed time. The compression of time between sequences

or scenes, and within scenes. This is the most frequent

manipulation of time in films: it is achieved with cuts or

dissolves. In a dramatic narative, if climbing a staircase is not a

significant part of the plot, a shot of a character starting up the

stairs may then cut to him entering a room. The logic of the

situation and our past experience of medium tells us that the

room is somewhere at the top of the stairs. Long journeys can

be compressed into seconds. Time may also be compressed

between cutaways in parallel editing. More subtle compression

can occur after reaction shots or close-ups have intervened. The

use of dissolves was once a cue for the passage of a relatively

long period of time.

Long take. A single shot (or take, or run of the camera) which

lasts for a relatively lengthy period of time. The long take has an

'authentic' feel since it is not inherently dramatic.

Simultaneous time. Events in different places can be presented

as occurring at the same moment, by parallel editing or

cross-cutting, by multiple images or split-screen. The

conventional clue to indicate that events or shots are taking place

at the same time is that there is no progression of shots: shots are

either inserted into the main action or alternated with each other

until the strands are somehow united.

Slow motion. Action which takes place on the screen at a

slower rate than the rate at which the action took place before

the camera. This is used: a) to make a fast action visible; b) to

make a familiar action strange; c) to emphasise a dramatic

moment. It can have a lyric and romantic quality or it can

amplify violence.

Accelerated motion (undercranking) . This is used: a) to make

a slow action visible; b) to make a familiar action funny; c) to

increase the thrill of speed.

Reverse motion. Reproducing action backwards, for comic,

magical or explanatory effect.

Replay. An action sequence repeated, often in slow motion,

commonly featured in the filming of sport to review a significant

event.

Freeze-frame. This gives the image the appearance of a still

photograph. Clearly not a naturalistic device.

Flashback. A break in the chronology of a narrative in which

events from the past are disclosed to the viewer. Formerly

indicated conventionally with defocus or ripple dissolves.

Flashforward. Much less common than the flashback. Not

normally associated with a particular character. Associated with

objective treatments.

Extended or expanded time/overlapping action. The

expansion of time can be accomplished by intercutting a series of

shots, or by filming the action from different angles and editing

them together. Part of an action may be repeated from another

viewpoint, e.g. a character is shown from the inside of a building

opening a door and the next shot, from the outside, shows him

opening it again. Used nakedly this device disrupts the audience's

sense of real time. The technique may be used unobtrusively to

stretch time, perhaps to exaggerate, for dramatic effect, the time

taken to walk down a corridor. Sometimes combined with slow

motion.

Ambiguous time. Within the context of a well-defined

time-scheme sequences may occur which are ambiguous in time.

This is most frequently comunicated through dissolves and

superimpositions.

Universal time. This is deliberately created to suggest universal

relevance. Ideas rather than examples are emphasised. Context

may be disrupted by frequent cuts and by the extensive use of

close-ups and other shots which do not reveal a specific

background.

Use of Sound

Direct sound. Live sound. This may have a sense of freshness,

spontaneity and 'authentic' atmosphere, but it may not be

acoustically ideal.

Studio sound. Sound recorded in the studio to improve the

sound quality, eliminating unwanted background noise ('ambient

sound'), e.g. dubbed dialogue. This may be then mixed with live

environmental sound.

Selective sound. The removal of some sounds and the retention

of others to make significant sounds more recognizable, or for

dramatic effect - to create atmosphere, meaning and emotional

nuance. Selective sound (and amplification) may make us aware

of a watch or a bomb ticking. This can sometimes be a

subjective device, leading us to identify with a character: to hear

what he or she hears. Sound may be so selective that the lack of

ambient sound can make it seem artificial or expressionistic.

Sound perspective/aural perspective. The impression of

distance in sound, usually created through the use of selective

sound. Note that even in live television a microphone is

deliberately positioned, just as the camera is, and therefore may

privilege certain participants.

Sound bridge. Adding to continuity through sound, by running

sound (narration, dialogue or music) from one shot across a cut

to another shot to make the action seem uninterrupted.

Dubbed dialogue. Post-recording the voice-track in the studio,

the actors matching their words to the on-screen lip movements.

Not confined to foreign-language dubbing.

Wildtrack (asynchronous sound). Sound which was

self-evidently recorded separately from the visuals with which it

is shown. For example, a studio voice-over added to a visual

sequence later.

Parallel (synchronous) sound. Sound 'caused' by some event

on screen, and which matches the action.

Commentary/voice-over narration. Commentary spoken

off-screen over the shots shown. The voice-over can be used to:

introduce particular parts of a programme;

to add extra information not evident from the picture;

to interpret the images for the audience from a particular

point of view;

to link parts of a sequence or programme together.

The commentary confers authority on a particular interpretation,

particularly if the tone is moderate, assured and reasoned. In

dramatic films, it may be the voice of one of the characters,

unheard by the others.

Sound effects (SFX). Any sound from any source other than

synchronised dialogue, narration or music. Dubbed-in sound

effects can add to the illusion of reality: a stage- set door may

gain from the addition of the sound of a heavy door slamming or

creaking.

Music. Music helps to establish a sense of the pace of the

accompanying scene. The rhythm of music usually dictates the

rhythm of the cuts. The emotional colouring of the music also

reinforces the mood of the scene. Background music is

asynchronous music which accompanies a film. It is not

normally intended to be noticeable. Conventionally, background

music accelerates for a chase sequence, becomes louder to

underscore a dramatically important action. Through repetition it

can also link shots, scenes and sequences. Foreground music is

often synchronous music which finds its source within the screen

events (e.g. from a radio, TV, stereo or musicians in the scene).

It may be a more credible and dramatically plausible way of

bringing music into a programme than background music (a

string orchestra sometimes seems bizarre in a Western).

Silence. The juxtaposition of an image and silence can frustrate

expectations, provoke odd, self-conscious responses, intensify

our attention, make us apprehensive, or make us feel dissociated

from reality.

Lighting

Soft and harsh lighting. Soft and harsh lighting can manipulate

a viewer's attitude towards a setting or a character. The way

light is used can make objects, people and environments look

beautiful or ugly, soft or harsh, artificial or real. Light may be

used expressively or realitically.

Backlighting. A romantic heroine is often backlit to create a

halo effect on her hair.

Graphics

Text. Titles appear at or near the start of the programme. Their

style - typeface, size, colour, background and pace - (together

with music) can establish expectations about the atmosphere and

style of the programme. Credits listing the main actors, the

director, and so on, are normally shown at or near the beginning,

whilst those listing the rest of the actors and programme makers

are normally shown at the end. Some American narrative series

begin with a lengthy pre-credit sequence. Credits are frequently

superimposed on action or stills, and may be shown as a

sequence of frames or scrolled up the screen. Captions are

commonly used in news and documentaries to identify speakers,

in documentaries, documentary dramas and dramatic naratives

to indicate dates or locations. Subtitles at the bottom of the

screen are usually used for translation or for the benefit of the

hearing-impaired.

Graphics. Maps, graphs and diagrams are associated primarily

with news, documentary and educational programmes.

Animation. Creating an illusion of movement, by inter-cutting

stills, using graphics with movable sections, using step-by-step

changes, or control wire activation.

Narrative style

Subjective treatment. The camera treatment is called

'subjective' when the viewer is treated as a participant (e.g. when

the camera is addressed directly or when it imitates the

viewpoint or movement of a character). We may be shown not

only what a character sees, but how he or she sees it. A

temporary 'first-person' use of camera as the character can be

effective in conveying unusual states of mind or powerful

experiences, such as dreaming, remembering, or moving very

fast. If overused, it can draw too much attention to the camera.

Moving the camera (or zooming) is a subjective camera effect,

especially if the movement is not gradual or smooth.

Objective treatment. The 'objective point of view' involves

treating the viewer as an observer. A major example is the

'privileged point of view' which involves watching from

omniscient vantage points. Keeping the camera still whilst the

subject moves towards or away from it is an objective camera

effect.

Parallel development/parallel editing/cross-cutting. An

intercut sequence of shots in which the camera shifts back and

forth between one scene and another. Two distinct but related

events seem to be happening at approximately the same time. A

chase is a good example. Each scene serves as a cutaway for the

other. Adds tension and excitement to dramatic action.

'Invisible editing'. This is the omniscient style of the realist

feature films developed in Hollywood. The vast majority of

narrative films are now edited in this way. The cuts are intended

to be unobtrusive except for special dramatic shots. It supports

rather than dominates the narrative: the story and the behaviour

of its characters are the centre of attention. The technique gives

the impression that the edits are always required are motivated

by the events in the 'reality' that the camera is recording rather

than the result of a desire to tell a story in a particular way. The

'seamlessness' convinces us of its 'realism', but its devices

include:

the use of matched cuts (rather than jump cuts);

motivated cuts;

changes of shot through camera movement;

long takes;

the use of the sound bridge;

parallel development.

The editing isn't really 'invisible', but the conventions have

become so familiar to visual literates that they no longer

consciously notice them.

Mise-en-scene. (Contrast montage). 'Realistic' technique

whereby meaning is conveyed through the relationship of things

visible within a single shot (rather than, as with montage, the

relationship between shots). An attempt is preserve space and

time as much as possible; editing or fragmenting of scenes is

minimised. Composition is therefore extremely important. The

way people stand and move in relation to each other is

important. Long shots and long takes are characteristic.

Montage/montage editing. In its broadest meaning, the process

of cutting up film and editing it into the screened sequence.

However, it may also be used to mean intellectual montage - the

justaposition of short shots to represent action or ideas - or

(especially in Hollywood), simply cutting between shots to

condense a series of events. Intellectual montage is used to

consciously convey subjective messages through the

juxtaposition of shots which are related in composition or

movement, through repetition of images, through cutting rhythm,

detail or metaphor. Montage editing, unlike invisible editing, uses

conspicuous techniques which may include: use of close- ups,

relatively frequent cuts, dissolves, superimposition, fades and

jump cuts. Such editing should suggest a particular meaning.

Talk to camera. The sight of a person looking ('full face') and

talking directly at the camera establishes their authority or

'expert' status with the audience. Only certain people are

normally allowed to do this, such as announcers, presenters,

newsreaders, weather forecasters, interviewers, anchor-persons,

and, on special occasions (e.g. ministerial broadcasts), key public

figures. The words of 'ordinary' people are normally mediated

by an interviewer. In a play or film talking to camera clearly

breaks out of naturalistic conventions (the speaker may seem

like an obtrusive narrator). A short sequence of this kind in a

'factual' programme is called a 'piece to camera'.

Tone. The mood or atmosphere of a programme (e.g. ironic,

comic, nostalgic, romantic).

Formats and other features

Shot. A single run of the camera or the piece of film resulting

from such a run.

Scene. A dramatic unit composed of a single or several shots. A

scene usually takes place in a continuous time period, in the

same setting, and involves the same characters.

Sequence. A dramatic unit composed of several scenes, all

linked together by their emotional and narrative momentum.

Genre. Broad category of television or film programme. Genres

include: soap operas, documentaries, game shows, 'cop shows'

(police dramas), news programmes, 'chat' shows, phone-ins and

sitcoms (situation comedies).

Series. A succession of programmes with a standard format.

Serial. An ongoing story in which each episode takes up where

the last one left off. Soap operas are serials.

Talking heads. In some science programmes extensive use is

made of interviews with a succession of specialists/ experts (the

interviewer's questions having been edited out). This

derogatively referred to as 'talking heads'. Speakers are

sometimes allowed to talk to camera. The various interviews are

sometimes cut together as if it were a debate, although the

speakers are rarely in direct conversation.

Vox pop. Short for 'vox populi', Latin for 'voice of the people'.

The same question is put to a range of people to give a flavour

of 'what ordinary people think' about some issue. Answers are

selected and edited together to achieve a rapid-fire stream of

opinions.

Intertextuality. Intertextuality refers to relationships between

different elements of a medium (e.g. formats and participants),

and links with other media. One aspect of intertextuality is that

programme participants who are known to the audience from

other programmes bring with them images established in other

contexts which effect the audience's perception of their current

role. Another concerns issues arising from sandwiching

advertisements between programmes on commercial television

(young children, in particular, may make no clear distinction

between them).

Book Review

James Curran, David Morley & Valerie Walkerdine (Eds.):

Cultural Studies and Communications. London: Edward

Arnold, 1996 (£15.99 paperback; £40.00 cloth)

Goldsmiths vs. Fiske

Daniel Chandler

This substantial collection of papers (371pp.), edited by James

Curran, Professor of Communications (a historian), David

Morley, Reader in Communications (a sociologist), and Valerie

Walkerdine, Professor of the Psychology of Communications, all

at Goldsmiths' College, University of London, is presented as 'a

companion volume' (back cover blurb) to an earlier reader-Mass

Media and Society (Curran and Gurevitch 1991)-which was

itself initially intended as a revised edition of Mass

Communication and Society (Curran and Gurevitch 1977),

though only Curran remains an editor of the current volume.

The book's pedigree is certainly distinguished.

It has to be said that some British academic publishers no longer

seem as keen as they once were to publish such collections of

papers; the managing editor of one university press reported to

me some years ago that this was because they no longer saw

much of a market for them. Edward Arnold (and others such as

Routledge in particular) should be commended for continuing to

produce such collections when, whilst journals proliferate,

universities are increasingly cutting back on subscriptions. In this

context 'readers' can represent good value-for-money. The

fashionable 'modularization' of university courses has

contributed to the need for undergraduates to have easy access

to short, recent papers by leading figures in the field (particularly

so that they encounter alternative perspectives), and these

students are much more likely to consult books than journals in

any case. From this perspective, multiple copies of suitable

collections are useful in university libraries.

The book offers a selection of papers from 'the interface of

cultural studies and media/communication studies' (p. 1). Four of

the sixteen papers are reprinted from journals: these being by

David Morley (1992), James Curran (1990), Stuart Hall (1985)

and Dick Hebdige (1987) (no criticism is implied by this

observation: it is useful to have ready access to such papers in

book form). As the editors themselves note, there are many

other edited collections in the fields of both media and

communication studies (Allen 1991; Alvarado and Thompson

1990; Mellencamp 1990; Corner and Hawthorne 1994;

Newcomb 1995; Boyd-Barrett and Newbold 1995; Marris and

Thornham 1996) and cultural studies (Barker and Beezer 1992;

Grossberg, Nelson and Treichler 1992; Blundell, Shepherd and

Taylor 1993; During 1993; Gray and McGuigan 1993). In

seeking to cover both of these two related fields, the editors of

this volume make a virtue of their book being 'more hybrid' (p.

4), presumably through blurring boundaries which some might

seek to erect between them. Suggesting that other editors had

sought to produce 'authoritative definitions' of their fields (which

I suspect might be denied by most of these other editors), the

editors of this book proclaim their 'more limited' aim as being 'to

produce a collection that indicates how a range of cultural

studies perspectives might be applied in the study of issues in the

field of media and communications' (p. 4) and invite readers to

judge their success on this basis. This would certainly be a

worthwhile aim which would be appropriate in such a text, but

since I could discern no specific attempt to illustrate how readers

could apply any particular 'perspective' beyond the context in

which it was employed by an individual author my own

judgement was that this claim was not justified. This is

disappointing, because undergraduates commonly experience

difficulty in disembedding procedures from particular

applications. They need books which not only illustrate the

application of particular approaches to specific contexts but

which are also sufficiently explicit about what procedures are

being adopted to enable them to attempt to explore for

themselves their application to related phenomena. However, I

would not dismiss the book on the grounds that it seemed not to

meet its editors' stated intentions; as readers we have purposes

of our own.

The collection is divided into three sections labelled: Cultural

Theory; Cultural Production; and Cultural Analysis and

Consumption. Those seeking to decide whether the book's

general or specific coverage might suit their courses need to

know that the papers included deal with: Althusser and ideology

(Stuart Hall); identity (Paul Gilroy); postmodernism (Morley);

cultural practices in a London street (Dick Hebdige); the

production of subjectivity (Walkerdine); the history of media

sociology (Curran); magazines for girls and women (Angela

McRobbie); popular music (David Hesmondhalgh); the 'New

Hollywood' (Yvonne Tasker); feminism and technology (Sarah

Kember); 'the New Revisionism' in audience research (Curran

and Morley); feminism and media consumption (Christine

Geraghty); 'The Eroticization of Little Girls' (Walkerdine) and

anthropology and ethnography (Gareth Stanton). I will not

attempt to offer an abstract of each paper here. In terms of

coverage (as well as general quality), my own judgement is that

the purchase of at least one library copy of this book would be

desirable for any university offering courses related to these

fields.

In seeking to deal with not only the vast field of media and

communication studies but also that of cultural studies, editorial

selectivity inevitably leads to some topics being noticeable by

their absence. The editors themselves (p. 3) regret the absence

of papers on certain topics-they list class and gay politics, the

State and globalization; readers will no doubt notice many other

gaps. I was surprised to find so little discussion of cyberspace

(there are limited references only in Sarah Kember's paper), and

noted Paul Gilroy's observation that, for instance, 'the mediation

and reproduction of national and postnational identities in

cyberspace and on virtual paper await a definitive interpretation'

(p. 40).

In the interests of opening up the practices of editorial power and

the processes of academic framing I would have liked to have

seen a genuine discussion of how and why topics were chosen or

excluded, and why they were framed as they were. In my

opinion such a debate would have formed a better focus than the

relatively unproductive 'dialogue' between Curran and Morley.

As for why these particular contributors were selected, the

editors note that the authors all 'either work in, or have close

connections with, the Department of Media and Communication

Studies at Goldsmiths' College' (p. 1). Since this was not a

publication of the University of London, this seems a

problematic principle of selection, even if (or especially

because!) the editors insist on their diversity 'of intellectual

background, inclination and belief' (ibid.). Whatever the cultural

roots of individual contributors, in terms of current institutional

affiliations the collection is not only overwhelmingly 'British'

(only Dick Hebdige was based outside the UK at the time of

publication, and his contribution was written when he lived in

London), but also both English (there are British universities in

Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland) and predominantly

metropolitan. And this issue remains unproblematized.

In tune with the rhetoric of postmodernism the editors make a

virtue of the book's 'multivocal' character and the 'unusual

degree of catholicism' of the contributors. I question none of

these claims; I suspect that most of us who teach within the field

are likely to welcome the diversity of approaches in such a

collection (though we may perhaps differ more strongly in our

reactions to the scope of this text). However, a potential

purchaser is entitled to ask how this selection of papers from

such a vast field relates to their own priorities and what broad

concerns seem to be reflected in the editors' choices.

One key issue which very clearly united the three editors was

their antagonism towards John Fiske, Professor of

Communication Arts at the University of Wisconsin-Madison

(who is unsurprisingly not a contributor). Previously, Fiske, the

general editor of Cultural Studies, taught at Curtin University in

Western Australia, but he was born and educated in Britain,

where he also taught for some time. He is credited by David

Morley as having had a heavy influence on 'a recent (and

principally American) inflection of cultural studies' (p. 286).

Morley declares that the use of Fiske's books and articles (Fiske

1987, 1989a, 1989b, 1989c, 1991, 1992) is largely confined to

American courses (p. 286), but I would suggest that Fiske's

writings and ideas are far more widely used and cited-even if not

at Goldsmiths' College in the English metropolis. Curran accepts

that Fiske is 'influential' and, he adds (is this

dismissive?)-'prolific' (p. 260).

Criticism of Fiske's approach is evident both in the editorial

introductions and in the personal contributions of each of the

editors. The striking editorial stance regarding Fiske in this book

may merit some exploration here. Hostilities break out as early

as page 3, where Fiske is identified as the prime example of the

'regrettable' 'inanity' of cultural studies' 'uncritical (or 'pointless')

populism' in celebrating 'rituals of resistance' which are described

here as 'no more than over-romanticized celebrations of an

illusory form of consumer sovereignty' (p. 3). These early

criticisms are made less direct by their attribution to other critics

of the stance, such as Seaman (1992), McGuigan (1992), Harris

(1992) and Tester (1995).

Valerie Walkerdine refers to Fiske's argument that working-class

audiences are not passive victims of television and popular

culture but are able both to raid texts for progressive meanings

and to make resistant readings. Walkerdine comments: 'I wonder

if there is not a defensive optimism in the way in which these

authors see a working-class that can make "progressive"

readings, that has not wholly been taken in' (p. 109). 'This

attempt to suggest that audiences make active meanings in their

consumption and are neither passive consumers nor have their

identities determined by the text invokes an American discourse

of empowerment, of voicing and authentic creation' (ibid.). Here

the stance seems to be condemned simply as distastefully

un-British. Walkerdine adds that she regards the Fiskean stance

as 'not only wrong but patronizing... Look folks, they are not

taken in and they are actually bright enough to make their own

meanings!... It makes working-class readings seem like the

consumption of pick-and-mix sweets in a postmodern shopping

mall' (p. 109-10). Finally, she adds that 'while I think that it is

correct to assert that people make what they can of what is

available' (p. 110), stances such as Fiske's represent too extreme

a move away from textual determinism towards voluntarism.

James Curran notes Fiske's 'embrace' of the (conservative)

ideology of 'sovereign consumer pluralism'. In such as view,

argues Curran, 'there are no dominant discourses, merely a

semiotic democracy of pluralist voices' (p. 268). Fiske presents

people from (in his own words) 'a vast shifting range of

subcultures and groups' as constructing their own meanings

within what Curran describes as 'an autonomous cultural

economy' (p. 260). Curran suggests that this is 'not very

different from the American liberal tradition in which the media

are analysed in isolation from power relationships or are situated

within a model of society in which, it is assumed, power is

widely diffused' (p. 259-60). The Fiskean stance is seen by

Curran as overestimating the autonomy of audiences and

underestimating media influence. Firstly, media texts, notes

Curran, are 'rarely wholly open': as Hall noted in his now

famous discussion of the encoding/decoding model (Hall 1973),

although alternative, negotiated or oppositional readings are

possible, media texts do have preferred readings. Secondly,

Curran notes that:

Audiences do not have an infinite repertoire of discourses to

draw upon in adapting TV meanings. The location of individuals

in the social structure will tend to determine which discourses

they have ready access to. This influences in turn the range of

'readings' that they will derive from media content. (p. 268).

These two qualifications to the notion of audience creativity are,

of course, fair points, echoed by Morley (p. 287).

Whilst acknowledging 'the force' of some of Fiske's insights (pp.

287-8), David Morley seeks to distance his own conception of

cultural studies from Fiske's 'particular version', partly as a

defence of cultural studies (and himself) against some of the

criticisms of his own colleague the communications scholar,

James Curran. Morley sees Fiske's influence in 'recent reception

studies (both in America and Scandinavia) which document

audience autonomy and offer optimistic/redemptive readings of

mainstream media texts' (p. 286). He also fears that the

emphasis of Fiske and others on intertextuality might lead to a

situation where 'the text is simply dissolved into its readings' (p.

287), instancing Fiske's remark that 'there is no text, there is no

audience, there are only the processes of viewing' (Fiske 1989c:

pp. 56-7). Morley sees Fiske's emphasis on diversity of

interpretation as being at the expense of 'the discovery of

regularities and patterns of behaviour' in making sense of media

texts (p. 287). More broadly, he rejects Fiske's emphasis on

audience pleasures and agrees with Curran's criticism of the

rejection of any media influence. Also in line with Curran,

Morley criticizes a lack of emphasis on the issue of power (p.

288). He notes the importance of the availability of the power or

cultural resources for audiences to generate certain meanings

(ibid.) and cites the point made by various commentators (Budd

et al. 1990, Jensen et al. 1990, Evans 1990, Ang 1990) that the

oppositional interpretation of media texts of itself does nothing to

change society or even to truly empower the audience: being

'active' in interpreting the text is not synonymous with being

'powerful' in shaping the agenda within which the text is

constructed. Morley also agrees with Frow (1991) that there is a

danger of a 'populist ventriloquism' whereby media audiences

seem to speak with the voices of middle-class intellectuals (p.

290). He associates what he sees as the excesses of Fiskeanism

with cultural relativism, seeing Fiske as reflecting 'a populist

neo-liberal rhetoric which would abandon any concern with

cultural values', a position which Morley sees as offering support

both to 'the deregulators who would destroy any version of

public service broadcasting' and to Hollywood's power in the

world television market (p. 286).

Rightly, I feel, Morley notes a tendency in Fiske to avoid

empirical audience research (p. 287) and to generalize too widely

from exceptional examples (p. 289). It has to be said, however,

that there is very little empirical research in the current

collection, and a fair amount of generalization too. Papers such

as Angela McRobbie's on 'More! New Sexualities in Girls' and

Women's Magazines' comes close, but (insightful as it is)

involves no detailed exploration (or graphical illustration-a

publishing restriction?) of particular examples-perhaps she could

have been offered more space to do so. I would have liked to

have seen the inclusion in this collection of some short and

accessible empirical studies which could have served as

exemplars for students of the subject, including some

psychological (rather than psychoanalytical) papers.

Of course, the editors' critical observations make a great deal of

sense as an attempt to redress an overemphasis on audience

creativity at the expense of constraints on interpretation.

However, I know of no university courses in which

consideration is not given to the kind of points raised here, so

Fiskeanism (if it is fair to call it that) is something of a paper tiger

(the strategy might almost have seduced me into playing

something of the same game with 'Goldsmithianism' were it not

such an elusive beast). As a mode of unifying a collection of

essays such solidarity of Goldsmiths' colleagues against 'the

other' (which it seemed clearly to be), I for one found it not only

surprising but questionable and even disturbing, and it has to be

said that it verges on a distastefully ad hominem assault. It is

also a rhetorical strategy which I found became rapidly irritating.

I would suggest that Fiske's ideas, whatever their limitations,

remain valuable in counteracting widespread popular

assumptions of audience passivity, and are particularly useful in

provoking student discussion of the issues.

In keeping with the attack on Fiske's precccupation with

audience interpretation the editors note pointedly that they are

concerned with 'the entire communication circuit from

production to consumption' (back cover blurb). Indeed, the

structure of the book reflects this framework. I always find such

terms problematic (suggesting, for instance, an unwarranted

fixity of roles as well as audience passivity) and was encouraged

to note the unease of one of the contributors, Angela McRobbie

(though she seems to shoot herself in the foot in her concluding

phrase!):

I want to suggest that the language of production and

consumption, most often deployed in recent cultural studies

work, is too broad, too general, and for this reason unable to

generate a more rigorous account of the complex and

multilayered relation between the production of meaning... and

the diverse ways in which these meanings are consumed by

readers. (p. 178)

In his readable paper, 'Rethinking Popular Music after Rock and

Soul', David Hesmondhalgh-whilst echoing the editorial critique

of 'cultural popularism' (p. 198)-also alludes to the reductionism

involved in framing our engagement with media in terms of

production and consumption, noting in passing that:

An adequate analysis of musical culture needs to continue to

address debates on aesthetics, rather than resorting to the

presentation of data about the consumption and production of

music, a phenomenon Wolff calls 'sociological imperialism'

.(Wolff 1993: xiv) (p. 206)

As if to justify what some might see as unseemly behaviour

regarding outsiders, Morley and Curran seemed just as happy to

launch into acrimonious tussle of their own in a 'dialogue'

between them consisting of some reprinted papers together with

fresh commentaries and occupying almost 50 pages. The

simulated dialogue form could no doubt be both interesting and

fruitful-potentially offering students 'leverage-points' at instances

of disagreement for unspoken interventions of their own.

However, I did not find that this particular interchange led to

sufficient substantive insights to justify the space which the

editors decided (somewhat self-indulgently) to devote to it.

Whilst I found Curran's reprinted paper to be an excellent

overview (and agreed that it required some kind of up-to-date

commentary) it felt to me that the purpose of the interchange (of

four papers) between Curran and Morley served more to

(re)define these authors' respective personal positions than to

shed light on the subject. Perhaps some readers might find it

mildly entertaining, but I was left wondering whether such

already prominent figures really need to promote themselves in

this way. It could at least have been much shorter. Some would

indeed query whether the editors should devote 147 pages (40%

of the book) to their own contributions (quite apart from editorial

matter). And I regret that this striking feature has led me to focus

primarily on the contributions of the editors themselves. I should

add that I say all this despite being a great admirer myself of the

work of Morley, Curran and Walkerdine-including much of what

appears in this book.

Whilst this book is by no means avante-garde in style and

structure (I do not suggest that it should be), the authorial

interchange near the end is not the only break from more

traditional academic written forms. Dick Hebdige's (reprinted)

paper, 'The Impossible Object: Towards a Sociology of the

Sublime', also incorporates an experiment with form, intercutting

televisually, as it were, between discussion of theory and a very

specific (and insightful) account of the issues explored in relation

to the author's own locality (at the time of its original

publication); it even ends in the recounting of a dream! Valerie

Walkerdine's 'Subject to Chage without Notice: Psychology,

Postmodernity and the Popular' (the text of an inaugural lecture)

is another well-woven blend of the personal and the theoretical.

Even Stuart Hall's generally rather heavy paper does include

reflections on the personal meaning for the author of some of the

issues discussed theoretically. Effective breaks from the closure

of traditional academic styles and structures (which, as these

examples demonstrate, need involve no sacrifice of academic

'rigour') are to be welcomed. By this I do not mean simply as

reflections of postmodernist leanings, but, far more importantly,

for the educational benefit of our students. Firstly, such

examples may offer some of them 'openings' in finding their way

as readers of academic prose. Secondly, the best of these may

serve as examples for students's own writing-facilitating access

to academic discourse for those to whom conventional papers

may seem forbidding. The ideologies reflected in our own

writing practices should be examined more closely for their

reflection (or in so many cases, subversion) of what our verbal

claims suggest (perhaps this review should have been more

experimental!).

Turning to the issue of the intended readership of the current

volume, I have to say that I regard this as a fundamentally

problematic. The three editors declare explicitly that they

intended the book to be 'a genuinely introductory text' (p. 4); this

is emphasized as a key feature differentiating it from other

collections. Its progenitor Mass Communication and Society

was produced as a reader for Open University students, whilst

Mass Media and Society-and by implication this companion

volume-are described here as 'essential reading for students and

scholars alike' (back cover blurb). Certainly, the papers in the

current volume are by prominent academics whose publications

are justly familiar to those in the field (including the editors

themselves, together with Stuart Hall, Dick Hebdige and

Christine Geraghty). However, whilst I personally found many

of these papers useful and illuminating, I would not regard most

of the individual papers or the book as a whole as being

'genuinely introductory' for undergraduates who are absolute

beginners in this field - from this light I would suggest that in

many cases far too much background knowledge is taken for

granted. I felt that the editors even assumed knowledge of the

preceding incarnations of the volume itself (which flies in the

face of a common-albeit irritating-tendency for today's

undergraduates to regard older texts as supplanted rather than

supplemented by those of the most recent vintage). Similarly,

some individual contributors also tended to assume more

knowledge of their own previous work and of that of others in

the field than seemed justified in the context of undergraduate

readers for whom such papers might represent their primary

reading on the topic. The editors of a genuinely introductory text

should surely be expected to tailor individual contributions more

closely to the needs of the intended readers, and I did wonder

whether the major contributors were perhaps given too free a

hand in the light of their eminence in the field. Alternatively, the

editors should have abandoned the claim (perhaps springing from

a desire to achieve greater sales) that this was a truly

introductory volume. None of these reservations, I should add, is

intended to undermine the undoubted worth of the book as a

contribution to scholarly literature in the field.

Symptomatic for me of the misleading labelling of this book as

'introductory' is the surprising choice of Stuart Hall's

paper-enlightening as I personally found it-as the first paper in

the collection. Important as a consideration of Althusserian

Marxism is (my own third year undergraduate students are

expected to negotiate this topic), undergraduates often comment

that Hall's papers can be 'heavy going'. To be fair, this paper

includes some readable passages offering welcome insights into

Hall's own experiences (and the current paper seems a little more

accessible than some of his other papers). There is, for instance,

a delightful aside at one point where Hall notes:

When I was a child and I was taken to the church by one of my

grandmothers, I thought the black minister's appeal to the

Almighty: 'Lord, lighten our darkness,' was a quite specific

request for a bit of personal divine assistance. (p. 31)

However, for beginners it is my judgement that Hall is not

always the best introduction either to the field or even to Hall

(whose influential ideas I would nevertheless regard as being

essential for students to come to grips with). Readers of a review

are entitled to expect some consideration of 'suitability for

purpose'; Hall's paper is, unfortunately, a clear example of how

too much background knowledge is required on the part of the

intended readers about both the author's own previous

publications and about how the topic had been framed by others.

The opening sentence -which poses few problems for those of

us who are experienced in unpacking the distinctive 'Hallese'

(which we know will be worth the effort)-is likely to stop many

undergraduate students in their tracks:

Althusser persuaded me, and I remain persuaded, that Marx

conceptualizes the ensemble of relations which make up a whole

society-Marx's 'totality'-as essentially a complex structure, not a

simple one.

I would certainly not suggest that undergraduates should never

be stopped in their tracks; hopefully, slowing students down to

rexamine their assumptions is a widespread practice in university

teaching. But whilst academics are well used to dense text and

tortuous phrasing (I am guilty even here!), for a student audience

this is surely not the most effective way of promoting genuine

reflection on the ideas involved. True, the authorial 'I' humanizes

the piece and might help to dismiss still-surviving prejudices

against its presence in students' own essays. But I would not

want my own students to emulate other stylistic features of this

sentence. For the complete beginner, far too much needless

unpacking is involved here. Reading always requires us to make

inferences, of course, but complex sentences such as the

example given and the assumed knowledge required to make

sense of them are liable to lead to a widespread feeling of

exclusion for which I see no justification (and which I am certain

is not intended). Hall's initial sentence might present a

surmountable hurdle for the most determined undergraduates,

but it is far from the most difficult of the sentences to come, and

when few of those following are much easier to deconstruct,

such a paper is likely to deter all but the deeply committed. This

is a pity, since I found the article to be a valuable contribution to

my own understanding of Althusserian ideas. Since it may seem

somewhat unfair for me to single out one paper for stylistic

criticism, I should add that this example of a limitation of writing

style for the stated readership is not intended to reflect a

weakness confined to, or even most strongly exemplified by, this

particular paper, but it does highlight a difficulty which surfaces

in other contributions. Nor should the author shoulder

responsibility in this context, since his paper was not written for

this volume or as an introduction for undergraduates but for an

academic journal; the editors of this book chose to reprint Hall's

paper (originally published in 1985) for inclusion in the current

volume (the option was surely open to them to invite Hall to

write a paper which was tailored to their specific purposes).

Not all of the papers seemed to me to be quite so vulnerable to

such a criticism. I have already mentioned McRobbie's

interesting paper on magazines which I think most

undergraduates would find accessible. This may well be true for

David Hesmondhalgh's paper on popular music. Curran's own

contributions also struck me as likely to be accessible for

newcomers to the field. His paper on 'Rethinking Mass

Communications' in particular seemed a particularly useful guide

to mapping out stances on media and society-in fact I felt that

this chapter might encourage some students to draw up their

own 'maps' (I was very tempted to reach for a large sheet of

paper myself!). With due apologies to Professor Hall, this

chapter by Curran might have been more encouraging for

undergraduates as an opening chapter of this particular book. My

singling out of these three examples is not meant to suggest that

these are necessarily the only 'accessible' papers here.

On a more mundane level, I commend the publishers and editors

for ensuring that the collection had a subject index-and an

excellent one at that (if only every academic publisher insisted on

this in all of their books!) but I would have liked to have seen a

name index as well. Not all of the references at the end of some

papers were complete-some references to journal articles lacked

page numbers; this is particularly unfortunate when one seeks to

encourage careful referencing by students.

Perhaps my criticisms suggest that I expect too much of such a

book, but no academic achievement is beyond improvement. To

ensure that casual readers don't 'misread' the preferred reading

of this review I should emphasize that despite my reservations,

as a collection of papers useful for scholars in the field and for

advanced undergraduate and postgraduate courses, I recommend

this book, but I would caution course tutors that despite the

editorial claim, it is not, in my opinion, a multiple-copy purchase

for first-year undergraduates.

9th December 1996

E-mail Daniel Chandler: dgc@aber.ac.uk

References

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This review is also published in print form in Cultural

Dynamics.

Reviews Section

Why do People Watch Television?

Uses and Gratifications

Watching TV Soap Operas

Watching TV Quiz Programmes

Criticisms of 'Uses and Gratifications'

Some Related Reading

Uses and Gratifications

One influential tradition in media research is referred to as 'uses

and gratifications' (occasionally 'needs and gratifications'). This

approach focuses on why people use particular media rather than

on content. In contrast to the concern of the 'media effects'

tradition with 'what media do to people' (which assumes a

homogeneous mass audience and a 'hypodermic' view of media),

U & G can be seen as part of a broader trend amongst media

researchers which is more concerned with 'what people do with

media', allowing for a variety of responses and interpretations.

However, some commentators have argued that gratifications

could also be seen as effects: e.g. thrillers are likely to generate

very similar responses amongst most viewers. And who could

say that they never watch more TV than they had intended to?

Watching TV helps to shape audience needs and expectations.

U & G arose originally in the 1940s and underwent a revival in

the 1970s amd 1980s. The approach springs from a

functionalist paradigm in the social sciences. It presents the use

of media in terms of the gratification of social or psychological

needs of the individual (Blumler & Katz 1974). The mass media

compete with other sources of gratification, but gratifications can

be obtained from a medium's content (e.g. watching a specific

programme), from familiarity with a genre within the medium

(e.g. watching soap operas), from general exposure to the

medium (e.g. watching TV), and from the social context in

which it is used (e.g. watching TV with the family). U & G

theorists argue that people's needs influence how they use and

respond to a medium. Zillmann (cited by McQuail 1987: 236)

has shown the influence of mood on media choice: boredom

encourages the choice of exciting content and stress encourages

a choice of relaxing content. The same TV programme may

gratify different needs for different individuals. Different needs

are associated with individual personalities, stages of maturation,

backgrounds and social roles. Developmental factors seem to be

related to some motives for purposeful viewing: e.g. Judith van

Evra argues that young children may be particularly likely to

watch TV in search of information and hence more susceptible

to influence (Evra 1990: 177, 179).

An empirical study in the U & G tradition might typically involve

audience members completing a questionnaire about why they

watch a TV programme. Denis McQuail offers (McQuail 1987:

73) the following typology of common reasons for media use:

Information

finding out about relevant events and conditions in

immediate surroundings, society and the world

seeking advice on practical matters or opinion and decision

choices

satisfying curiosity and general interest

learning; self-education

gaining a sense of security through knowledge

Personal Identity

finding reinforcement for personal values

finding models of behaviour

identifying with valued other (in the media)

gaining insight into one's self

Integration and Social Interaction

gaining insight into circumstances of others; social empathy

identifying with others and gaining a sense of belonging

finding a basis for conversation and social interaction

having a substitute for real-life companionship

helping to carry out social roles

enabling one to connect with family, friends and society

Entertainment

escaping, or being diverted, from problems

relaxing

getting intrinsic cultural or aesthetic enjoyment

filling time

emotional release

sexual arousal

Blumler & Katz (1974) argued that audience needs have social

and psychological origins which generate certain expectations

about the mass media, leading to differential patterns of media

exposure which result in both the gratification of needs and in

other (often unintended) consequences. This does assume an

active audience making motivated choices. However, McQuail

suggests that the dominant stance of recent researchers in this

tradition is now that:

Personal social circumstances and psychological

dispositions together influence both... general habits of

media use and also... beliefs and expectations about the

benefits offered by the media, which shape... specific acts

of media choice and consumption, followed by....

assessments of the value of the experience (with

consequences for further media use) and, possibly...

applications of benefits acquired in other areas of

experience and social activity. (ibid: 235).

James Lull (1990: 35-46) offers a typology of the social uses of

television based on ethnographic research.

Social Uses of Television

Structural

Environmental: background noise; companionship;

entertainment

Regulative: punctuation of time and activity; talk patterns

Relational

Communication Facilitation: Experience illustration;

common ground; conversational entrance; anxiety

reduction; agenda for talk; value clarification

Affiliation/Avoidance: Physical, verbal contact/neglect;

family solidarity; family relaxant; conflict reduction;

relationhip maintenance

Social Learning: Decision-making; behaviour modelling;

problem-solving; value transmission; legitimization;

information dissemination; substitute schooling

Competence/Dominance: Role enactment; role

reinforcement; substitute role portrayal; intellectual

validation; authority exercise; gatekeeping; argument

facilitation

(Lull 1990: 36)

Watching TV Soap Operas

A major focus for research into why and how people watch TV

has been the genre of soap opera. Adopting a U & G

perspective, Richard Kilborn (1992: 75-84) offers the following

common reasons for watching soaps:

regular part of domestic routine and entertaining reward for

work

launchpad for social and personal interaction

fulfilling individual needs: a way of choosing to be alone or

of enduring enforced loneliness

identification and involvement with characters (perhaps

cathartic)

escapist fantasy (American supersoaps more fantastical)

focus of debate on topical issues

a kind of critical game involving knowledge of the rules and

conventions of the genre

Watching TV Quiz Programmes

McQuail, Blumler and Brown (1972) offered the following

summary of clusters of 'uses' that people made of TV quizzes:

Gratifications of TV Quiz Shows: Selected Responses

Self-Rating Appeal

I can compare myself with the experts

I like to imagine that I am on the programme and doing

well

I feel pleased that the side I favour has actually won

I am reminded of when I was in school

I laugh at the contestants' mistakes

Basis for Social Interaction

I look forward to talking about it with others

I like competing with other people watching with me

I like working together with the family on the answers

The children get a lot out of it

It brings the family together sharing the same interest

It is a topic of conversation afterwards

Excitement Appeal

I like the excitement of a close finish

I like to forget my worries for a while

I like trying to guess the winner

Having got the answer right I feel really good

I get involved in the competition

Educational Appeal

I find I know more than I thought

I find I have improved myself

I feel respect for the people on the programme

I think over some of the questions afterwards

It's educational

(McQuail, Blumler & Brown 1972)

Social class seemed to be related to gratifications here. McQuail

et al. noted that most of those who watched quiz programmes

for 'self-rating' gratifications lived in council houses and were

working-class. 'Excitement' was most commonly reported as a

gratification by working-class viewers who were not very

sociable. And those who reported 'educational appeal' as the

major gratification were those who had left school at the

minimum age. John Fiske suggests that these could be seen as

compensatory uses of the media 'to gratify needs that the rest of

social life frustrates' (Fiske 1982: 136). In contrast, people who

reported having many acquaintances in their neighbourhood

tended to see the quizzes as a basis for social interaction.

Criticisms of 'Uses and Gratifications'

The use of retrospective 'self-reports' has several limitations.

Viewers may not know why they chose to watch what they did,

or may not be able to explain fully. The reasons which can be

articulated may be the least important. People may simply offers

reasons which they have heard others mention. More promising

might be the study of people's engagement with media as it

happens.

Some degree of selectivity of media and content is clearly

exercised by audiences (e.g. choice or avoidance of TV soap

operas. However, instrumental (goal-directed) accounts assume

a rational choice of appropriate media for predetermined

purposes. Such accounts over-emphasize informational purposes

and ignore a great deal in people's engagement with media: TV

viewing can be an end in itself. There is evidence that media use

is often habitual, ritualistic and unselective (Barwise &

Ehrenberg 1988). But more positively, TV viewing can

sometimes be seen as aesthetic experience in which intrinsic

motivation is involved.

The U & G approach has been criticized as 'vulgar

gratificationism'. It is individualistic and psychologistic, tending

to ignore the socio-cultural context. As a theoretical stance it

foregrounds individual psychological and personality factors and

backgrounds sociological interpretations. For instance, David

Morley (1992) acknowledges that individual differences in

interpretation do exist, but he stresses the importance of

subcultural socio-economic differences in shaping the ways in

which people interpret their experiences with TV (via shared

'cultural codes'). U & G theorists tend to exaggerate active and

conscious choice, whereas media can be forced on some people

rather than freely chosen. The stance can also lead to the

exaggeration of openness of interpretation, implying that

audiences may obtain almost any kind of gratification regardless

of content or of 'preferred readings'. Its functionalist emphasis is

politically conservative: if we insist that people will always find

some gratifications from any use of media, we may adopt a

complacently uncritical stance towards what the mass media

currently offer.

U & G research has been concerned with why people use media.

Whilst this approach sprang from 'mainstream' research in social

science, an interpretive tradition has arisen primarily from the

more arts-oriented 'cultural (and 'critical') studies'. The approach

sometimes referred to as reception theory (or reception

analysis) focuses on what people see in the media, on the

meanings which people produce when they interpret media

'texts' (e.g. Hobson 1982, Ang 1985, Seiter, Borchers, Kreutzner

& Warth 1989). This perspective tends to be associated with the

use of interviews rather than questionnaires. Such interviews are

often with small groups (e.g. with friends who watch the same

TV programmes). The emphasis is on specific content (e.g. a

particular soap opera) and on specific social contexts (e.g. a

particular group of working-class women viewers).

Some Related Reading

Ang, Ien (1985): Watching 'Dallas': Soap Opera and the

Melodramatic Imagination. London: Methuen

Barwise, D. & A. Ehrenberg (1988): Television and its

Audience. London: Sage

Blumler J. G. & E. Katz (1974): The Uses of Mass

Communication. Newbury Park, CA: Sage

Evra, Judith van (1990): Television and Child

Development. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum

Fiske, John (1982): Introduction to Communication

Studies. London: Routledge

Hobson, Dorothy (1982): Crossroads: The Drama of a

Soap Opera. London: Methuen

Kilborn, Richard (1992): Television Soaps. London:

Batsford

Lull, James (1990): Inside Family Viewing: Ethnographic

Research on Television's Audiences. London: Routledge

McQuail, Denis (1987): Mass Communication Theory: An

Introduction (2nd edn.). London: Sage

McQuail, D., J. Blumler & R. Brown (1972): 'The

television audience: a revised perspective' in D. McQuail

(ed.): Sociology of Mass Communication. London:

Longman

Morley, David (1986): Family Television: Cultural Power

and Domestic Leisure. London: Routledge

Morley, David (1992): Television, Audiences and Cultural

Studies. London: Routledge

Rosengren, K. E. & S. Windahl (1989): Media Matter.

Norwood, NJ: Ablex

Seiter, Ellen, Hans Borchers, Gabriele Kreutzner &

Eva-Maria Warth (eds.) (1989): Remote Control:

Television, Audiences and Cultural Power. London:

Routledge

Daniel Chandler

UWA 1994

This page has been accessed times since 18th

September 1995.

Cultivation Theory

Daniel Chandler

Cultivation theory (sometimes referred to as the cultivation

hypothesis or cultivation analysis) was an approach developed

by Professor George Gerbner, dean of the Annenberg School of

Communications at the University of Pennsylvania. He began

the 'Cultural Indicators' research project in the mid-1960s, to

study whether and how watching television may influence

viewers' ideas of what the everyday world is like. Cultivation

research is in the 'effects' tradition. Cultivation theorists argue

that television has long-term effects which are small, gradual,

indirect but cumulative and significant.

They emphasize the effects of television viewing on the attitudes

rather than the behaviour of viewers. Heavy watching of

television is seen as 'cultivating' attitudes which are more

consistent with the world of television programmes than with the

everyday world. Watching television may tend to induce a

general mindset about violence in the world, quite apart from

any effects it might have in inducing violent behaviour.

Cultivation theorists distinguish between 'first order' effects

(general beliefs about the everyday world, such as about the

prevalence of violence) and 'second order' effects (specific

attitudes, such as to law and order or to personal safety).

Gerbner argues that the mass media cultivate attitudes and

values which are already present in a culture: the media maintain

and propagate these values amongst members of a culture, thus

binding it together. He has argued that television tends to

cultivate middle-of-the- road political perspectives. And Gross

considered that 'television is a cultural arm of the established

industrial order and as such serves primarily to maintain, stabilize

and reinforce rather than to alter, threaten or weaken

conventional beliefs and behaviours' (1977, in Boyd- Barrett &

Braham 1987, p. 100). Such a function is conservative, but

heavy viewers tend to regard themselves as 'moderate'.

Cultivation research looks at the mass media as a socializing

agent and investigates whether television viewers come to

believe the television version of reality the more they watch it.

Gerbner and his colleagues contend that television drama has a

small but significant influence on the attitudes, beliefs and

judgements of viewers concerning the social world. The focus is

on 'heavy viewers'. People who watch a lot of television are

likely to be more influenced by the ways in which the world is

framed by television programmes than are individuals who watch

less, especially regarding topics of which the viewer has little

first-hand experience. Light viewers may have more sources of

information than heavy viewers. Judith van Evra argues that by

virtue of inexperience, young viewers may depend on television

for information more than other viewers do (van Evra 1990, p.

167), although Hawkins and Pingree argue that some children

may not experience a cultivation effect at all where they do not

understand motives or consequences (cited by van Evra, ibid.).

It may be that lone viewers are more open to a cultivation effect

than those who view with others (van Evra 1990, p. 171).

Television is seen by Gerbner as dominating our 'symbolic

environment'. As McQuail and Windahl note, cultivation theory

presents television as 'not a window on or reflection of the

world, but a world in itself' (1993, p. 100). Gerbner argued that

the over-representation of violence on television constitutes a

symbolic message about law and order rather than a simple

cause of more aggressive behaviour by viewers (as Bandura

argued). For instance, the action- adventure genre acts to

reinforce a faith in law and order, the status quo and social

justice (baddies usually get their just dessert).

Since 1967, Gerbner and his colleagues have been analysing

sample weeks of prime-time and daytime television

programming. Cultivation analysis usually involves the

correlation of data from content analysis (identifying prevailing

images on television) with survey data from audience research

(to assess any influence of such images on the attitudes of

viewers). Content analysis by cultivation theorists seeks to

characterize 'the TV world'. Such analysis shows not only that

the TV world is far more violent than the everyday world, but

also, for instance, that television is dominated by males and

over-represents the professions and those involved in law

enforcement.

Audience research by cultivation theorists involves asking

large-scale public opinion poll organizations to include in their

national surveys questions regarding such issues as the amount

of violence in everyday life. Answers are interpreted as reflecting

either the world of television or that of everyday life.

Respondents are asked such questions as: 'What percentage of

all males who have jobs work in law enforcement or crime

detection? Is it 1 percent or 10 percent?'. On American TV,

about 12 percent of all male characters hold such jobs, and

about 1 percent of males are employed in the USA in these jobs,

so 10 percent would be the 'TV answer' and 1 percent would be

the 'real-world answer' (Dominick 1990, p. 512).

Answers are then related to the amount of television watched,

other media habits and demographic data such as sex, age,

income and education. The cultivation hypothesis involves

predicting or expecting heavy television viewers to give more TV

answers than light viewers. The responses of a large number of

heavy viewers are compared with those of light viewers. A

tendency of heavy viewers to choose TV answers is interpreted

as evidence of a cultivation effect.

In a survey of about 450 New Jersey schoolchildren, 73 percent

of heavy viewers compared to 62 percent of light viewers gave

the TV answer to a question asking them to estimate the number

of people involved in violence in a typical week. The same

survey showed that children who were heavy viewers were more

fearful about walking alone in a city at night. They also

overestimated the number of people who commit serious crimes

(Dominick 1990, p. 512). One controlled experiment addressed

the issue of cause and effect, manipulating the viewing of

American college students to create heavy- and light-viewing

groups. After 6 weeks of controlled viewing, heavy viewers of

action-adventure programmes were indeed found to be more

fearful of life in the everyday world than were light viewers

(ibid., p. 513).

Cultivation theorists are best known for their study of television

and viewers, and in particular for a focus on the topic of

violence. However, some studies have also considered other

mass media from this perspective, and have dealt with topics

such as gender roles, age groups, ethnic groups and political

attitudes. A study of American college students found that heavy

soap opera viewers were more likely than light viewers to

over-estimate the number of real-life married people who had

affairs or who had been divorced and the number of women

who had abortions (Dominick 1990, p. 512).

The difference in the pattern of responses between light and

heavy viewers (when other variables are controlled), is referred

to as the 'cultivation differential', reflecting the extent to which

an attitude seems to be shaped by watching television. Older

people tend to be portrayed negatively on television and heavy

viewers (especially younger ones) tend to hold more negative

views about older people than lighter viewers. Most heavy

viewers are unaware of any influence of television viewing on

their attitudes and values.

Cultivation theorists argue that heavy viewing leads viewers

(even among high educational/high income groups) to have more

homogeneous or convergent opinions than light viewers (who

tend to have more heterogeneous or divergent opinions). The

cultivation effect of television viewing is one of 'levelling' or

'homogenizing' opinion. Gerbner and his associates argue that

heavy viewers of violence on television come to believe that the

incidence of violence in the everyday world is higher than do

light viewers of similar backgrounds. They refer to this as a

mainstreaming effect.

Misjudging the amount of violence in society is sometimes called

the 'mean world syndrome'. Heavy viewers tend to believe that

the world is a nastier place than do light viewers. Pingree and

Hawkins (1981, cited in Condry 1989, p. 127) studied 1,280

primary schoolchildren (2nd-11th grade) in Australia using

viewing diaries and questionnaires. They found that heavy

viewing led to a 'television-biased' view of Australia as a 'mean

and violent' place. The children with the bleakest picture of

Australia were those who most watched American crime

adventure programmes. Oddly, they did not judge the USA to

the same extent by these programmes.

Gerbner reported evidence for 'resonance' - a 'double dose'

effect which may boost cultivation. This is held to occur when

the viewer's everyday life experiences are congruent with those

depicted in the television world. For instance, since on television

women are most likely to be victims of crime, women heavy

viewers are influenced by the usual heavy viewer mainstreaming

effect but are also led to feel especially fearful for themselves as

women. The cultivation effect is also argued to be strongest

when the viewer's neighbourhood is similar to that shown on

television. Crime on television is largely urban, so urban heavy

viewers are subject to a double dose, and cultivation theorists

argue that violent content 'resonates' more for them. The

strongest effects of heavy viewing on attitudes to violence are

likely to be amongst those in the high crime areas of cities.

Criticisms of cultivation theory

Cultivation theory offers a very plausible case, particularly in its

emphasis on the importance of mediation and on the symbolic

function of television in its cultural context. However, the theory

is subject to a number of criticisms. Gerbner has been criticized

for over-simplification. Denis McQuail argues that 'it is almost

impossible to deal convincingly with the complexity of posited

relationships between symbolic structures, audience behaviour

and audience views, given the many intervening and powerful

social background factors' (in Boyd-Barrett & Braham 1987, pp.

99-100). Our attitudes are likely to be influenced not only by

TV, but by other media, by direct experience, by other people,

and so on.

A correlation between television exposure and the beliefs of

viewers do not, of course, prove that there is a causal

relationship, although it may suggest the possibility of one. There

could be a another common factor influencing the apparently

associated ones. Hawkins and Pingree could not find conclusive

proof of the direction of the relationship between television

viewing and viewers' ideas about social reality. Rather than

heavy TV viewing leading people to be more fearful, it may be

that more fearful people are drawn to watching more television

than other people. There might be a reciprocal relationship:

'television viewing causes a social reality to be constructed in a

particular way, but this construction of social reality may also

direct viewing behaviour' (Hawkins & Pingree 1983, cited in

McQuail & Windahl 1993, p. 101). In any case, surveys cannot

establish causation.

Cultivation research does avoid the artificiality of laboratory

experiments - it is based on normal viewing over a long period -

but it is subject to the usual criticisms of both content analysis

and surveys.

Some studies have shown that careful controls of various

variables tend to reduce or eliminate cultivation effects. Doob

and MacDonald (1979, cited in Condry 1989, p. 130) report that

in the study of the topic of violence, controls for neighbourhood

were more reliable than the controls for income used by

Gerbner. Hirsch (1980, cited in Livingstone 1990, p. 16), argued

that an apparent relationship between exposure to violence on

television and fear of crime can be explained by the

neighbourhood viewers live in. Those who live in high-crime

areas are more likely to stay at home and watch television and

also to believe that they have a greater chance of being attacked

than are those in low-crime areas. Cultivation theorists do tend

to underplay the point that heavy and light viewers do vary in

other ways in addition to their TV viewing habits, such as in age,

sex and education.

Pingree & Hawkins have argued that breakdowns by content

type are more useful than measures of total viewing, because

viewers are selective. More specifically content-based measures

would show stronger correlations in cultivation analysis (Condry

1989, p. 128). Over- reliance on content analysis misses

subtleties and assumes that meaning resides 'in' television

programmes (although Gerbner does emphasize connotative

rather than denotative meaning unlike many in 'effects'

tradition). Also, different genres - and even different

programmes - contribute to the shaping of different realities, but

cultivation analysis assumes too much homogeneity in television

programmes (though some commentators would argue that there

is increasing homogeneity in television programmes which may

make the cultivation case stronger).

Asking viewers for their estimations of crime statistics is a crude

measure of their beliefs about crime. Doob & MacDonald note

that there is evidence of a cultivation effect with social questions

(e.g. 'How many muggings were there in your neighbourhood

last year?') but less so with personal questions (e.g. 'Are you

afraid of being mugged?'). Even in the context of a symbolic

function, some critical theorists go further than cultivation

theorists, arguing for instance that the relative absence of female

characters on television is a symbolic statement about their lack

of importance in current social reality: women are 'symbolically

annihilated'.

Condry (1989, p. 139) makes the point that viewers don't

usually use people on television for 'social comparison'. We are

not worried by contrasts between how people on television look

and live and the way we do. If we were, then the heaviest

viewers would be most concerned about their appearance, health

and weight because television actors and actresses tend to be

young, thin and attractive. But the heaviest viewers are in fact

least concerned about their health and weight.

There is relatively little evidence of cultivation effects outside the

USA. Wober (1978, cited in Condry 1989, p. 130) found no

British evidence of a link between heavy viewing and insecurity.

But this may be because there is less violence on British

television than in the USA, and Condry suggests that there may

be a critical level of the televisual distortion of social reality

before it is reflected in the attitudes of viewers. Or it may be that

Britain has a more diverse media culture.

More recent theories stressing the active viewer downplay the

power of television to influence viewers which is assumed by

cultivation theory. Cultivation theory focuses on the amount of

television viewing or 'exposure', and does not allow for

differences in the ways in which viewers interpret television

realities. Viewers do not necessarily passively accept as 'real'

what they see on television. Television programmes are open to

varying interpretations. The degree of identification with

characters by viewers may play a part. Motivations to view also

vary greatly. Joseph Dominick comments that 'individuals who

watch TV simply to pass time or because it becomes a habit

appear to be more affected than people whose viewing is

planned and motivated' (Dominick 1990, p. 514).

Cultivation theorists tend to ignore the importance of the social

dynamics of television use. Interacting factors such as

developmental stages, viewing experience, general knowledge,

gender, ethnicity, viewing contexts, family attitudes and

socio-economic background all contribute to shaping the ways in

which television is interpreted by viewers. When the viewer has

some direct lived experience of the subject matter this may tend

to reduce any cultivation effect.

There is some evidence that lower socio-economic groups tend

to watch television as a source of information more than other

groups, but the viewer's framing of television 'reality' also needs

to be considered here. It is often argued that cultivation may be

enhanced when the viewer interprets the content of programmes

to be realistic; sceptical viewers may be less likely to be affected.

There is some evidence that ethnic minorities exhibit more

sophistication in 'perceived reality' than others do (van Evra

1990, p. 169). There is also evidence that working class mothers

are more likely to confirm the realism of programmes offering

negative depictions of undesirable behaviour to discourage such

behaviour, whereas middle-class mothers may tend to make less

directive comments.

References

Boyd-Barrett, Oliver & Peter Braham (eds.) (1987):

Media, Knowledge & Power. London: Croom Helm

Condry, John (1989): The Psychology of Television.

Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum

Dominick, Joseph R. (1990): The Dynamics of Mass

Communication. New York: McGraw-Hill

Evra, Judith van (1990): Television and Child

Development. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum

Livingstone, Sonia (1990): Making Sense of Television.

London: Pergamon

McQuail, Denis & Sven Windahl (1993): Communication

Models for the Study of Mass Communication. London:

Longman

Daniel Chandler, UWA

This page has been accessed times since 18th

September 1995.

The TV Soap Opera Genre and its

Viewers

Daniel Chandler

What is a soap opera?

Soaps compared with other genres

Subject-matter and style

The openness of soaps

Realism

Stereotypes

Coronation Street

Brookside

Eastenders

Dallas and Dynasty

Neighbours

UK Soap Audience

Women as viewers

References

Key Links

What is a soap opera?

The soap opera genre originated in American radio serials of the

1930s, and owes the name to the sponsorship of some of these

programmes by major soap powder companies. So, like many

television genres (e.g. news and quiz shows), the soap opera is a

genre originally drawn from radio rather than film.

Television soap operas are long-running serials concerned with

everyday life. The serial is not to be confused with the series, in

which the main characters and format remain the same from

programme to programme but each episode is a self-contained

plot. In a serial at least one storyline is carried over from one

episode to the next. A series is advertised as having a specific

number of episodes, but serials are potentially endless.

Successful soaps may continue for many years: so new viewers

have to be able to join in at any stage in the serial. In serials, the

passage of time also appears to reflect 'real time' for the viewers:

in long-running soaps the characters age as the viewers do.

Christine Geraghty (1991, p. 11) notes that 'the longer they run

the more impossible it seems to imagine them ending.' There are

sometimes allusions to major topical events in the world outside

the programmes.

Soaps compared with other genres

One related genre is the melodrama, with which it shares such

features as moral polarization, strong emotions, female

orientation, unlikely coincidences, and excess. Another related

genre is the literary romance, with which it shares features such

as simplified characters, female orientation and episodic

narrative. However, soaps do not share with these forms the

happy ending or the idealized characters. British soaps are

distinctively different from these related genres in their debt to a

social realist tradition (e.g. 'kitchen sink' dramas) and an

emphasis on contemporary social problems.

Some media theorists distinguish between styles of TV

programmes which are broadly 'masculine' or 'feminine'. Those

seen as typically masculine include action/adventure programmes

and Westerns; those seen as more 'feminine' include soaps and

sitcoms. Action-adventures define men in relation to power,

authority, aggression and technology. Soap operas define women

in relation to a concern with the family. The relative 'openness'

of soaps in comparison with other genres will be discussed

shortly.

Subject-matter and style

Recurrent events in soap opera include courtships, marriages,

divorces, deaths and disappearances. Gossip is a key feature in

soaps (usually absent from other genres): in part it acts as a

commentary on the action. Geraghty notes that 'more frequently

than other TV genres, soaps feature women characters normally

excluded by their age, appearance or status' (1991, p. 17).

Broadcast serials have the advantage of a regular time-slot (often

more than once a week), but even if some viewers miss it they

can easily catch up with events. Any key information which

might have been missed is worked into the plot when necessary.

Nevertheless knowledge of previous events can usefully be

brought to bear by habitual viewers, and doing so is part of the

pleasure of viewing for them. Viewers are also in an omniscient

position, knowing more than any character does. The form is

unique in offering viewers the chance to engage in informed

speculation about possible turn of events.

Unlike a play or a series there is always a wide range of

characters in a soap opera (which means that no single character

is indispensible). The large cast and the possibility of casual

viewers necessitates rapid characterization and the use of

recognizable 'types'. British and Australian soaps which are not

in 'prime-time' slots typically operate on a small budget.

Soaps are frequently derided by some critics for being full of

clichés and stereotypes, for having shoddy sets, for being badly

acted, trivial, predictable and so on. Soap viewers (often

assumed to be only women, and in particular working-class

housewives) are characterized unfairly as naive escapists. Given

the great popularity of the genre, such criticisms can be seen as

culturally elitist. Robert Allen (1992, p. 112) argues that to

emphasize what happens when in soaps (in semiotic terms the

syntagmatic dimension) is to underestimate the equal importance

of who relates this to whom (the paradigmatic dimension).

Certainly relationships are more important than plot.

The openness of soaps

Some feminist theorists have argued that soap operas spring

from a feminine aesthetic, in contrast to most prime-time TV.

Soaps are unlike traditional dramas (e.g. sit-coms) which have a

beginning, a middle and an end: soaps have no beginning or end,

no structural closure. They do not build up towards an ending or

closure of meaning. Viewers can join a soap at any point. There

is no single narrative line: several stories are woven together over

a number of episodes. In this sense the plots of soaps are not

linear.

The structure of soaps is complex and there is no final word on

any issue. A soap involves multiple perspectives and no

consensus: ambivalence and contradiction is characteristic of the

genre. There is no single 'hero' (unlike adventures, where the

preferred reading involves identification with this character), and

the wide range of characters in soaps offers viewers a great deal

of choice regarding those with which they might identify. All this

leaves soaps particularly open to individual interpretations (more

than television documentaries, suggests David Buckingham

1987, p. 36).

Tania Modleski (1982) argues that the structural openness of

soaps is an essentially 'feminine' narrative form. She argues that

pleasure in narrative focuses on closure, whilst soaps delay

resolution and make anticipation an end in itself. She also argues

that masculine narratives 'inscribe' in the text an implied male

reader who becomes increasingly omnipotent whilst the soap has

'the ideal mother' as inscribed reader. Narrative interests are

diffused among many characters and her power to resolve their

problems is limited. The reader is the mother as sympathetic

listener to all sides.

Easthope argues that the masculine ego favours forms which are

self-contained, and which have a sense of closure. 'Masculine'

narrative form favours action over dialogue and avoids

indeterminacy to arrive at closure/resolution. It is linear and

goal-oriented. Soaps make consequences more important than

actions, involve many complications, and avoid closure.

Dialogue in masculine narratives is driven by plot which it

explains, clarifies and simplifies. In soaps dialogue blurs and

delays. There is no single hero in soaps, no privileged moral

perspective, multiple narrative lines (non-linear plot) and few

certainties. Viewers tend to feel involved interpreting events

from the perspective of characters similar to themselves or to

those they know.

Not much seems to 'happen' in many soaps (by comparison

with, say, an action series or an adventure serial) because there

is little rapid action. In soaps such as Coronation Street and

Brookside what matters is the effect of events on the characters,

This is revealed through characters talking to each other.

Charlotte Brunsdon argues that the question guiding a soap story

is not 'What will happen next?' but 'What kind of person is this?'

(in Geraghty 1991, p. 46). Such a form invites viewers to offer

their own comments.

Realism

Viewers differ in the extent to which they judge soaps as

'reflections of reality'. Whilst American soaps such as Dallas and

Dynasty are seen (at least by British viewers) as largely in the

realms of fantasy, British soaps are more often framed by

viewers in terms of 'realism'. However, it is misleading to regard

even 'realist soaps' as simply 'representing real life'. The

representation of 'reality' is not unproblematic: television is not a

'window' on an objective and unmediated world. British soap

operas are often described as 'realistic', but what this means

varies. There are several philosophical positions underlying

people's assumptions about the nature of 'reality':

Realism: The world has an objective existence which is

independent of our use of any means of representation. An

attempt to represent the world in words or images may

'distort reality', but at its best can 'mirror reality'.

Relativism: We unavoidably contribute to 'the construction

of reality' - of the world - in our use of words and images.

We do this within cultural frameworks (Stanley Fish refers

to 'interpretive communities'), so realities are not entirely

personal and unconstrained.

Idealism: 'Reality' (or 'the world') is purely subjective and

is constructed by human interpretation, having no

independent objective existence.

'Common-sense' theories tend to be 'realist' theories in this

philosophical sense. Philosophical realism is involved when

viewers consider soaps in terms of the extent to which they offer

a 'distorted image of reality' of 'the outside world' (Ang calls this

empiricist realism on the part of viewers). From the perspective

of the programme makers, documentary realism (Colin

MacCabe calls this classic realism in the case of the novel)

involves foregrounding the story and backgrounding the use of

the conventions of the medium (e.g. using 'invisible editing').

This 'transparency' of style encourages viewers to regard the

programme as a 'window' on an apparently unmediated world

rather than to notice its constructedness. Realism in drama is no

less a set of conventions than any other style, and it serves to

mask whose realities are being presented. 'Transparency' is

associated with a close sense of involvement by the viewers. It is

found in most soaps, although in American soaps such as Dallas

and Dynasty lapses into implausibility may tend to distance the

viewer.

British soaps also employ the transparency of classic/

documentary realism, but owe a great deal to the social realist

tradition (associated with late 50s British films and kitchen-sink

dramas). Social realism emphasizes 'relevance' - a sympathetic

portrayal of everyday social problems recognizable to the

working class (see Jordan, in Dyer 1981, p. 28). Plausibility and

credibility is also valued more than in American prime-time

soaps. Geraghty suggests that 'British soaps, because of their

greater dependence on realism, are less daring [than US soaps]

in displaying their own fictionality' (1991, p. 20).

John Fiske (in Seiter et al. 1989, p. 68) notes that minimal

post-production work on 'realist' soaps (leaving in 'dead' bits)

may be cost-cutting, but it also suggests more 'realism' than in

heavily edited programmes, suggesting the 'nowness' of the

events on screen. Published stories about the characters in soaps

and the actors who play them link the world of the soap with the

outside world, but they also allow viewers to treat the soap as a

kind of game.

Ien Ang (1985) argues that watching soaps involves a kind of

psychological realism for the viewer: an emotional realism

which exists at the connotative rather than denotative (content)

level. This offers less concrete, more 'symbolic representations

of more general living experiences' which viewers find

recognizably 'true to life' (even if at the denotative level the

treatment seems 'unrealistic'). In such a case, 'what is recognized

as real is not knowledge of the world, but a subjective

experience of the world: a "structure of feeling"' (Ang 1985, p.

45). For many viewers of Dallas this was a tragic structure of

feeling: evoking the idea that happiness is precarious.

I would argue that especially with long-running soaps (which

may become more 'real' to their fans over time) what we could

call dramatic realism is another factor. Competence in judging

this is not confined to professional critics. Viewers familiar with

the characters and conventions of a particular soap may often

judge the programme largely in its own terms (or perhaps in

terms of the genre) rather than with reference to some external

'reality'. For instance, is a character's current behaviour

consistent with what we have learnt over time about that

character? The soap may be accepted to some extent as a world

in its own right, in which slightly different rules may sometimes

apply. This is of course the basis for the 'willing suspension of

disbelief' on which drama depends.

Producers sometimes remark that realistic drama offers a slice of

life with the duller bits cut out, and that long-running soaps are

even more realistic than other forms because less has to be

excluded. However, dramatists do more than produce shortened

versions of 'the film of life': the construction of reality is far

more complex than this, and whose life is it anyway?

Stereotypes

Jordan (in Dyer 1981) identifies several broad types used

extensively in Coronation Street: Grandmother figures;

marriageable characters (mature, sexy, women; spinsterly types;

young women; mature, sexy, men; fearful, withdrawn men;

conventional young men); married couples; rogues (including

'ne'er-do-wells' and confidence tricksters). Buckingham refers

also refers to the use of the stereotypes of 'the gossip', 'the

bastard' and 'the tart'. Anthony Easthope adds 'the good girl',

and Peter Buckman cites 'the decent husband', 'the good

woman', 'the villain' and 'the bitch' (in Geraghty 1991, p. 132).

Geraghty herself adds 'the career woman' (ibid., p. 135ff).

Coronation Street

Coronation Street is a Granada production which is broadcast

nationally in the UK on ITV. First shown in 1960, it is the

longest-running British TV soap opera. It is watched by about

one-third of the British population, by rather more women than

men, by older people, and especially by people from lower

socio-economic groups (Livingstone 1990, p. 55). It offers a

nostalgic perspective on northern industrial working-class life as

group-centred, matriarchal, commonsensical and blunt but also

warm-hearted.

It includes strong and positive middle-aged females who are the

first to spring to mind when viewers are asked to recall the

characters. It deals with personal events. Work away from the

home is seldom shown. Political and social explanations for

events are largely supplanted by personal explanations based on

the innate psychological factors of individuals or (occasionally)

on luck (Jordan, in Dyer 1981). People meet in shops and the

pub to comment on events. Life seems to revolve around finding

a partner. The introduction of outsiders to the community is

usually presented as a threat.

It departs from realism in its use of caricature, stereotyping,

bursts of stylised repartee and occasional use of melodrama,

some of these features sometimes being employed almost

self-mockingly. It has been criticized for the minimal role of

non-whites. There is little of the inner searching of 'psychological

realism'. Viewing ratings dropped when an attempt was made to

introduce more contemporary themes, and there was then a

move towards a lighter, more humorous style. One producer said

in 1985: 'We are in the business of entertaining, not offending'

(in Goodwin & Whannel 1990, p. 122). Rival soaps have led to

some attempts to update the style. However, it has been

criticized as having grown old with its audience.

The camerawork and editing is very conventional. Cutting is

largely motivated by dialogue. Camerawork consists primarily of

group shots, 2-shots or 3-shots (in medium to medium close-up),

shot-reverse shot, occasional panning, and close-ups of single

characters for emphasis.

Brookside

Brookside, set in a modern Liverpool housing estate, first

appeared in 1982, and it became Channel 4's highest-rated

programme with around 6 million viewers (it also appears on

S4C in Wales). Producer Phil Redmond declared that it would

'tell the truth and show society as it really is', dealing with what

are seen as topical issues and problems such as unemployment

(in Goodwin & Whannel 1990, p. 123). 'The Close' uses part of

a real housing estate rather than a constructed studio set.

It features a range of characters from different social classes,

and some of the actors are similar to the characters they play. It

has a number of young characters (including some still at school)

so not surprisingly it appeals very much to younger viewers. It

also offers a wider range of male characeters than the traditional

British soaps. Geraghty suggests that the programme has also

given more prominence to 'male preoccupations': 'Brookside has

developed story lines which depend more on action and

resolution rather than the more soap-oriented narrative strategies

of commentary and repetition' (Geraghty 1991, p. 169). It has

sometimes drawn on the genre of the crime series.

The use of real houses tends to restrict it to a single-camera

approach. There are no real meeting places, which makes it

difficult to weave several stories together. And it has sometimes

been criticized for being too didactic.

Eastenders

Eastenders, a BBC production, was first broadcast in 1985. It is

watched by a little under a third of the British population, by

more women than men, and more by those in lower

socio-economic groups (Livingstone 1990, p. 55). The BBC is

aware of its 'responsibility' as a public service (unlike

commercial British television companies) to be of benefit to the

public, and to produce 'serious' programmes of 'quality'. The

characters tend to be mainly working class. In addition to

women, young characters and men are given strong roles, so that

the potential audience is wide. It has become particularly popular

with teenagers. Buckingham notes that 'much of their fascination

- and particularly that of the younger children - arose from its

inclusion of aspects of adult life from which they were normally

"protected"' (1987, p. 200).

Set in London's East End, it is in the social realist tradition. The

programme makers emphasized that it was to be about 'everyday

life' in the inner city 'today' (in Goodwin & Whannel 1990, p.

124). They regard it as a 'slice of life'. Producer Julia Smith

disingenuously declared that 'we don't make life, we reflect it'

(Geraghty 1991, p. 32). She has also reported: 'We decided to

go for a realistic, fairly outspoken type of drama which could

encompass stories about homosexuals, rape, unemployment,

racial prejudice, etc. in a believable context. Above all, we

wanted realism. Unemployment, exams, racism, birth, death,

dogs, babies, unmarried mums - we didn't want to fudge any

issue except politics and swearing' (ibid., p. 16).

Eastenders has also featured single-parent families, teenage

pregnancy, prostitution, arranged marriages, attempted suicide,

drug problems, alcoholism, generational conflicts, a protection

racket, a cot death, extra-marital affairs and marital bust-ups,

sexism, urban deprivation, mental breakdown, disappearances,

muggings, a fatal road accident and a suspected murder: it has

sometimes been criticized for being bleak! Perhaps in an attempt

to attract more male viewers once can sometimes notice a

tendency to shift a little towards the genre of the crime series.

Nevertheless, much of the action remains deliberately mundane.

Although it was part of the intention to handle 'controversial

social issues' the programme makers insist that Eastenders is not

'issues-based' (i.e. storylines are not developed simply to

illustrate predetermined issues). They see themselves as pursuing

'documentary realism' and their dramatic use of conflict leads to

issues arising 'naturally' (Buckingham 1987, pp. 16; 30; 83).

They accept that the programme has an informational or

educational function for viewers, offering a discussion of topics

of concern to them, but they are more concerned with raising

questions than with offering answers. Entertainment is seen as

the main purpose. The programme makers probably seek to

avoid putting viewers off by seeming to be patronising.

However, critics have occasionally noted episodes involving a

very didactic style.

The programme does not confine itself to the naturalistic mode,

but sometimes shifts towards either melodrama or sitcom.

Buckingham observes that the camerawork and editing is in the

naturalist tradition, supporting an interpretation of the

programme as a 'window on the world': the use of the camera is

unobtrusive and largely static, with only rare use of close-ups

and tracking; the editing seeks to be 'invisible'; the background

sound has a 'density of naturalistic detail'; lighting is usually flat,

with no harsh shadows (ibid., p. 74). However, he also notes

that it tends to have more simultaneous storylines, more scenes,

more meeting-places, more characters per episode, and a faster

pace than either Coronation Street or Brookside (ibid., p. 54).

Dallas and Dynasty

Dallas, a high-budget American weekly prime-time soap first

screened in 1976, has been broadcast in over 90 countries. One

fifth of the British population watched it; viewers included more

women than men (Livingstone 1990, p. 55). Some theorists

distinguish the American prime-time soaps Dallas and Dynasty

from British social realist soaps by referring to these US soaps as

'melodramatic serials'. They certainly featured the villains,

villainesses and emotional excess of melodrama and sometimes

drifted into total fantasy. Elements of the Western were also

employed.

These soaps focused, of course, on the rich: 'poverty is

eliminated by the simple tactic of ignoring it' (Geraghty 1991, p.

121). Glamour was a key feature: locations were often exotic

and the costumes of the main actresses were often extravagant;

viewers were invited into a world of abundance. Most of the

characters were physically very attractive, and almost all were

white. Dallas also made more use of cliffhangers than British

soaps: usually a 'psychological cliffhanger', Ang notes (1985, p.

53). Dallas featured the rivalry between the Ewing family and

the Barnes family, but business life was far more central than in

British soaps. The story also featured murder, marital crisis,

adultery, alcoholism, illness, miscarriage, rape, air and car

accidents, kidnapping, corruption, illegitimate children, secret

pasts, chance meetings and so on.

Some critics say that 'too much happens' in US soaps by

comparison with British ones: the pace tends to be faster. An

episode typically featured 20-30 short scenes, most of which

consisted of conversation. Camerawork and editing remained

conventional, to avoid distancing the viewer. Facial expressions

are sometimes shown in close-up and held for a few seconds

before the next scene. Regarding soaps in general, Tania

Modleski (1982, pp. 99-100) notes that close-ups (seen by

Robert Allen as a key feature of prime-time soaps) provide

training in the 'feminine' skills of 'reading people' - in

understanding the difference between what is said and what is

meant - as well as an invitation to become involved with the

characters depicted.

Neighbours

This Australian soap was aimed at young people, and attracted

many young viewers in the UK. It has been criticized for its

bland stereotyping. It tends to feature primarily physically

attractive people and there is also a notable absence of people of

colour. Maire Messenger Davies suggests that 'nothing goes

wrong in Neighbours for very long and that's why children like

it' (in Hart 1991, p. 136).

UK Soap Audience in 1988 (%)

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Eastenders Corona- Emmer- Brookside Neighbours

week- omni- tion dale week- omni- lunch after-

days bus Street Farm days bus time noon

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Age

4-15 16 17 11 10 16 18 8 32

16-24 14 17 10 8 19 18 12 15

25-34 18 16 14 12 19 18 17 14

35-44 15 13 12 10 14 12 14 13

45-54 12 13 13 12 10 12 12 10

55-64 11 10 14 16 11 11 11 7

65+ 14 14 26 32 11 11 26 9

Sex

Male 40 39 40 41 36 41 30 40

Female 60 61 60 59 64 59 70 60

Social grade

AB 12 8 10 9 12 11 11 14

C1 22 20 19 18 18 18 21 22

C2 32 33 29 27 34 30 29 33

DE 34 39 42 46 36 41 39 31

Average audience (millions)

13.4 6.5 16.2 11.2 4.0 2.4 6.6 10.8

----------------------------------------------------------------------

(Adapted from Hart 1991, p. 35)

Socio-economic grades: A higher managerial, administrative or

professional; B intermediate managerial, administrative or

professional; C1 supervisory or clerical, and junior managerial,

administrative or professional; C2 skilled manual worker; D semi

and unskilled manual workers; E state pensioners or widows (no

other earner in household), casual or lower grade workers, and

unemployed.

Women as viewers

Soaps in general have a predominantly female audience,

although prime-time soaps such as Dallas and the most recent

British soaps are deliberately aimed at a wider audience.

According to Ang, and hardly surprisingly, in Dallas the main

interest for men was in business relations and problem and the

power and wealth shown, whereas for women were more often

interested in the family issues and love affairs. In the case of

Dallas it is clear that the programme meant something different

for female viewers compared with male viewers.

In 'realist' soaps female characters are portrayed as more central

than in action drama, as ordinary people coping with everyday

problems. Certainly soaps tend to appeal to those who value the

personal and domestic world. The audience for such soaps does

include men, but some theorists argue that the gender identity of

the viewer is 'inscribed' in programmes, and that typically with

soaps the inscribed viewer has a traditional female gender

identity. And 'the competences necessary for reading soap opera

are most likely to have been acquired by those persons culturally

constructed through discourses of femininity' (Morley 1992, p.

129).

As housewives and mothers, women need to be able to do

several things at once, to switch from one task to another, to

deal with other people's problems, to be interrupted.

Redundancy and repetition make interrupted viewing possible; it

has even been suggested that soaps are made to be heard rather

than seen. Modleski argues that watching soap operas habituates

women to distraction and fragmentation.

Dorothy Hobson interviewed women office workers in

Birmingham and found that their free-time conversation was

often based on their soap opera viewing. Some had begun

watching simply because they had discovered how central it

seemed to be in lunchtime discussions. It involved anticipating

what might happen next, discussing the significance of recent

events and relating them to their own experiences. Hobson

argues that women typically use soaps as a way of talking

indirectly about their own attitudes and behaviour (in Seiter et al.

1989: pp. 150-67). Geraghty (1991, p. 123) also notes that there

is some evidence that families use soaps as a way of raising and

discussing awkward situations.

Most viewers seem to oscilate between involvement and distance

in the ways in which they engage with soaps.

References

Allen, Robert C. (1992): Channels of Discourse,

Reassembled (2nd edn.). London: Routledge

Ang, Ien (1985): Watching Dallas: Soap Opera and the

Melodramatic Imagination. London: Methuen

Buckingham, David (1987): Public Secrets: Eastenders

and its Audience. London: British Film Institute