Tag: fan fiction

There’s a series of scenes in the opening credits to Daria that present her in an array of different scenarios being stoic amid a sea of overly enthusiastic twits. That’s often how one can feel when they’re not someone who expresses “fandom” in the “correct” way among other “true” fans of a particular “star” (that word being so open to interpretation nowadays). For example, when a Daria type shows up to, say, a concert to enjoy music on their own terms while expected to act like some kind of uncaged monkey by others who view them as “not acting right,” the divide becomes clear. That is, the divide between a fanatic for the sake of honoring blind fanaticism and someone who can be a fan with a bit more objectivity.

Having “objectivity,” of course, automatically brands the Daria breeds as “haters” for merely critiquing something with an analytical eye. Treating art (if that’s what celebrities actually want their work to be seen as) with the according level of criticism that should come with taking it in. But no, all of the sudden, calling things out in such a way not only gets one marked with the “hater” brand, but also invokes celebrities to goad, “If you don’t like me and still watch everything I do, bitch you’re a fan.” Never taking into account that someone can be a fan, while still not insisting that everything the celebrity does is spun gold. But that doesn’t “compute” for celebrities themselves or their fans. The ones deemed “true” for lapping up all their shit and assuring the creator that it tastes like coq au vin (to borrow a phrase from Succession’s Lukas Matsson) no matter what. In this era, more than ever, that’s what’s expected of a bona fide fan. Something that harkens back to the kind of ancient and Middle Ages “devotion” displayed by acolytes of various churches and their “founding fathers.”

Fanaticism, needless to say, has existed in religious form for centuries, ultimately evolving into what we have now: celebrity fanaticism. The same tenets of religious zeal still apply, with the worshipper having no tolerance for contrary views to their reverent opinion of the (false) idol in question (there’s a reason religion has been the source of most wars, after all). A “satire” on that point was recently explored in the Janine Nabers and Donald Glover-created series, Swarm. A “sendup” of the Beyhive’s worshipful attitude toward their god, Beyoncé. Who gets rebranded as “Ni’Jah” (Nirine S. Brown). Among the diehard legion of fans that call themselves The Swarm (you get it—because bees/The Beyhive) is Andrea “Dre” Greene (Dominique Fishback). A fan so committed, she’ll kill anyone who says an unkind word about Ni’Jah, even if it’s just in the comments section—where humanity’s true nature can be found. Although intended to be a “parody” of the level of “vehemence” that fans have in the current landscape (especially those of “Queen” Bey), it’s really not that far-fetched to imagine a fan going to this sort of length to defend the “honor” of their beloved idol.

The tracing back to this current fanatical tendency to “redoubl(e) your effort when you have forgotten your aim” (as philosopher George Santayana once put it) is inextricably linked with the dawn of the internet’s power. Where once someone like Pauline Kael could exist without being sent death threats or getting doxed, there is patently no place for someone with “highly opinionated and sharply focused” reviews within the context of this easily affronted century.

Starting practically at the beginning of the new millennium, the evolution of fandom into something wherein fans were expected to make celebrities their gods incapable of doing any wrong, creatively or personally, was made apparent on a show like MTV’s FANatic. The premise being to have the purported “biggest fans” (as judged by their video submissions) meet their idol and interview them. Although the show only aired from 1998 to 2000, there were sixty-three episodes—all of which showcased the bizarre, often random fixation on a particular person (or group of people…e.g., the cast of Dawson’s Creek).  

One of the show’s crowning episodes occurred in season five, with the appearance of Madonna/Rupert Everett. A lopsided duo, to be sure, but, at the time, they were promoting 2000’s The Next Best Thing together in any way they could. And, oddly enough, the Rupert fan, Ellen, came across as far more enthusiastic and knowledgeable about Everett’s career. But that’s the thing: there shouldn’t be any rule that someone has to act or be a certain way with regard to their fandom. Even if the Madonna fan, Miriam, was foolish enough to waste one of her questions for the pop star on asking her what she had for breakfast that morning (nothing, because a bitch can’t practice yoga on a full stomach). Or if she treated the whole thing more like job interview with language such as, “Thank you so much for this opportunity.” But with Miriam and Ellen’s politeness and articulateness (connoted by such first names as theirs), what stands out most about FANatic now is that to put people in such positions in the present would result in far less dignified behavior. For most have become so accustomed to the extreme parasocial relationships that have developed as a result of “social” media that it would be impossible to imagine most fans’ ability to treat a celebrity like a “regular” human being while in their midst.

At one point during the show, Madonna remarks, “There’s a difference between true fans that respect your privacy and give you space and people that, you know, follow you everywhere.” Of course, both types of fans can fall in the center of that Venn diagram—many of which have aided in Madonna amassing her level of wealth (especially because of the fans that follow her everywhere when she tours, shelling out high amounts for the front row every time). But perhaps, at that moment, Madonna was still thinking of one of her most obsessive stalkers, Robert Dewey Hoskins, a man with a Dre in Swarm kind of appreciation for the pop star who scaled the wall of her Hollywood Hills home more than a few times throughout 1995 and 1996. It was clear he was of the erotomaniac/borderline-pathological sect of celebrity worship (like the Dre character).

Eventually, Madonna was forced to face him in a courtroom, where she identified him as “the man who came to her estate and threatened to slice her throat ‘from ear to ear’ if she did not become his wife.” And yet, there are some who would see that level of “fervor” as genuine fandom. Which perhaps just goes to show that because there are so many shades and degrees of “commitment” and “ardor” within a fandom, “liking the same person” isn’t always grounds for forging a bond with other fans (indeed, it can actually be a way to alienate oneself from them). Particularly since some fans view themselves as “more deserving” than others and some fans are really just “haters” (ergo, comments from certain fans that say things like, “Honestly, this fanbase is so toxic it’s making me not even want to be a part of it anymore”—but of course they will continue to be). Fittingly, Madonna herself pointed out this type of phenomenon within the framework of being a celebrity, stating of meeting other famous people in Truth or Dare, “I’ve always found it a little weird that celebrities assume a friendship with you just because [voice changes to sarcastic mode] you’re a celebrity too!”

The varying tones and timbres of fandom over the past several decades even prompted an official scholastic field for it to be established in the early 90s: fan studies. Not merely studies of various fandoms’ behavior and sense of religious ecstasy over their version of “Jesus,” but also “fanworks,” which are usually centered around art, fiction and “remix culture” in general. This form of “fan labor” (unpaid, more often than not) presents a so-called “higher” tier of fandom that proves a particular breed of fan’s “superiority” over others. In this and many other regards, it’s no wonder those of the Daria ilk, who show up to events or online spaces with an utterly blasé, “what the fuck are you so excited about?” attitude, would “prefer not to” engage or participate at all, lest they be tarred and feathered for not “properly” conveying their appreciation.