Culturology 010.5 - Ironic Enjoyment Redux

Rather than writing this up as a comment to my most recent Culturology post, I think it’ll be easier if I just put this up as an addendum to the first. First of all, I have to admit that I wrote out the prior post in one fell swoop Monday afternoon, and only ran a spell check on it, rather than re-reading the thing to make sure it made any sense (coming off the Thanksgiving holiday, I was once again running late on getting the thing posted, so rather dashed off my commentary). So, having now re-read the thing, and the initial batch of comments, let me restate here what I think the main points that I was (am still) trying to make are:

1) In the context of this particular discussion, I am using the word “culture” in a way that is virtually synonymous with “entertainment.” That is, I’m not trying to speak towards any trends that are broader than the middle-class Western point of view from which I’m writing. Essentially, culture (or entertainment) is a solution to the problem of leisure, i.e. the solution to the problem of boredom. I think this is actually pretty clear in the opening paragraphs of Culturology 010; I was just spelling out the kind of art that I tend to prefer to the variety of pop culture that is viable for ironic enjoyment.

2) I think Mystery Science Theatre 3000 is a good example of what we’re talking about when we talk about ironic enjoyment. There, they take old movies—this assumes that the original sci-fi movies being commented upon were essentially sincere in their motives—and then recontextualize them with their wry dissection. It’s oftentimes quite hilarious, and generally successful, I think. And it’s the model, more or less, for one of the main aspects of what we’ve been discussing as ironic enjoyment; basically smart, witty people make fun of dopey artifacts.

3) Ironic enjoyment is too easy. This kind of externally generated irony hinges on the fact that there are other readers (in the broad sense of reading which would include listening, viewing, etc.) that don’t get what you’re getting. So I’m not really concerning myself with the, shall I call them, the masses. If everyone got the joke of laughing at the ridiculousness of, say, Face/Off, then it wouldn’t be any fun to get that joke; there must, first of all, be an audience for any given movie or music group or whatever else that likes it uncritically. But, as soon as you’re smart, critical, or realize that something is amiss; ironicizing that viewing experience is an easy move; you’ve mostly got to crack jokes as you go along with viewing-as-normal. It’s as easy as making fun of someone in an incisive way and then saying “Just Kidding!” It’s too easy because it’s reactive, rather than being generative.

4) This brought me to the next point, about the current popularity of sincere indie-culture, or at least the music wing of it, anyway. Which I don’t think needs further clarification. It’s still off the mark because it lacks the kind of self-awareness that I see as critical for well-considered culture to succeed; instead, post-ironic sincerity just gives otherwise ironic people a reprieve from thinking about things. A lot of hardcore and punk suffers from this as well, and emo too (emo ends up even further down the spectrum of terribleness from hipster culture since they lack any kind of self-awareness (I’m not sure if Reggie and the Full Effect counts in this or not)).

5) So I guess where I lost everyone was on this notion of reading things as being “good for good reasons.” Basically, what I see as a better stance as a consumer of culture than a heavily ironicized stance is to be able to float from one genre or another, or from one demographic to another, or from “high” art to “pop” art, and be able to maintain a kind of heuristic that determines whether a given artifact is successful (enjoyable) or not, on its own terms. This includes both the things which succeed on their own terms, sincerely (say, for instance, Beethoven’s 9th Symphony) and things that only become interesting when read ironically (say, Commando). It also notices things that don’t work, sincerely (say, Donnie Darko or American Beauty), and also things that should never, ever, been appreciated ironically (e.g. VH-1).

6) Movies like what Nick was pointing out in his comments, that seem to straddle the line between purely enjoyable or ironically enjoyable, or that can go both ways, I think, are successful most of the time because they were produced with some amount of awareness towards that possibility. Verhoeven, given his filmic output—I’m thinking mostly of Total Recall, Robo Cop, and Starship Troopers—is surely one of the masters of this.

7) I don’t think “irony is dead,” and I think the conversation about it in such terms is generally futile and ill-informed.

8) Ironic enjoyment is “smart.” I agree with characterizing it was active rather than passive, but moreso, I think it’s reactive, rather than passive, and rather than something being actively ironic, like, say, David Lynch’s Blue Velvet.

9) I think it’s important to main distinctions between the “good” and the “bad” (and, yes, the “ugly” too, I suppose), no matter how difficult that may seem to be in the contemporary context of cultural relativism and reader-response theory. Taste, I admit, is generally subjective, but I do think there’s an element of objectivity—generated, again, by an awareness of context/intent/etc.—in determining whether something is good or not, on its own terms. I would imagine that the people that think that irony is dead also think that criticism is dead too. But, seeing as popular culture tends towards the easiest possible route to success; namely, formula and cliché, there will always be a need for criticism of those formulas. And if the critics want to go ahead and get some laughs out of ironicizing the trash that’s fine, but their energy, I think, is better spent in generating artifacts of their own.

4 Responses to “Culturology 010.5 - Ironic Enjoyment Redux”


  1. 1 Nick Marino

    well said. Pete's right. point number 6 is the most fascinating to me because it's like some sort of active viewership utopia where both creators and viewers allow for cultural contributions to work on multiple levels at the same time. i, someday, would love to have that sort of control over my creative output.

    something i didn't address before that should be mentioned is how well Pete's argument explains the reasons why irony even exists in the first place, and why irony is such a predominant part of our current cultural landscape.

    now let me throw out something and maybe everyone will try this when they add a comment to this post...

    recent cultural contribution i couldn't enjoy ironically:
    The Dark Knight

  2. 2 neal

    god damn it pete! way to totally bury my post.

  3. 3 pete

    Shit, sorry about that Neal. I didn't even think of that... I'll do better with the blog etiquette in the future.

  4. AudioShocker Shoutouts!

    Super Haters is the best comic of all time!


  5. 4 kirsten

    Okay, I understand what you're saying a lot better now. At least I think I do: basically, ironic enjoyment is all fine and good, but the emphasis should be on creation of good art rather than critique of bad art. As I see it, this is kind of an old argument, usually put forward by people who are sick of having their work trashed, as in, "You think you're so smart, why don't you get off your ass and do something instead of just ripping everybody down?"

    The thing is, criticism is vital to the improvement of art, and there's a reason that the best critics have also been among the best writers, and vice versa. I don't really see why it has to be one or the other; criticizing art doesn't inhibit anybody from creating it. If anything, the discussion helps to inspire and refine the production of more art. The Guardian has a neat article about how learning what not to write is as instructive as learning who to emulate.

    In general, however, I think ironic enjoyment is just a lot more fun. Compare a night hanging out and watching No Country For Old Men and walking away moved (suck it, Neal, it's awesome) to one spent verbally annotating that disastrous new Crusoe show that's on Friday nights. On the first, you sit in near silence for three hours, soaking up the gorgeous composition of the Coen brothers' landscape shots and learning to look at storytelling in new ways. You might as well be alone. On the second, you get to laugh a lot more.

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