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In order to discuss how fans are able to contribute material andcurrency to their chosen focus,

it will be necessary to define an inclusive model of fandom that does not marginalise important

regions of its operation.

Within the questions͛ core text, Matt Hills spends a lengthy period discussing the social

structure involved in any fan base and how devotees of various types distinguish themselves against

each other with the circulation of self-attributed social currency.Identifying diverse underlying

ideologies, he claims it is this separationthat propels these groups into different practices

(2002:3).Gill Branstonrecognises the polarities as being engaged in opposition based on theimagined

objectivity of academics:͚͞theories͟ simply serve a callow kind of political ͞correctness͟ ʹ even while

quantities of style journalism, cultural comment and public relations proliferate in precisely those

areas broached by the questions posed in theories͛(2000:18).

The(usually, but not always) academicrebuttal to this claim entailing that the non-academic

fan is emotionally compromised and consisting of a membership who is, as Barbara Smith notes:

͚suffering from crudeness of sensibility, diseases and distortions of perception,

weaknesses of character, impoverishment of background and education, cultural or

historical biases, ideological or personal prejudices and/or underdeveloped, corrupted

or jaded tastes.͛ (1998:41)

The result of this dialogue is a perceived hierarchy that perhaps unfairly attributes worth or ͚social

currency͛ onto particular aspects of the collective landscape. This perception is not entirely

unfounded, as academics may well throw aspersions onto the claims of the merchandise enthusiast

or social organiser, but this is down to what Sigmund Freud identified as ͚the narcissism of minor

differences͛ ([1921] 1991:31). Freud defines this as being behaviour (seemingly applicable to

individuals or large groups) of differentiation, in which similar groups distinguish themselves by

emphasising differences and in some cases engaging in pernicious action against each other. This

should be seen merely as a naturalattempt at attaining recognition, and not exclusively an exercise

to devalue similar associated groups:this behaviour is the organic result of a process of distinction

and does not necessarily indicate a dissimilarity of opinions, but can be seen as a series of personal

claims to preference of investment in their field over another. Simply put, said ͚narcissism͛is a factor

of social economics, and in order to guarantee a revenue of investment (fiscally,

emotionally/psychologically, or simply the commitment of personal time) from prospective new

fans, each practice needs to attempt to elevate itself in importance, but ultimately, fans and scholar-

fans are not mutually antagonistic. I would argue that it is the level of investment, not the specific

pursuit it is committed to (academic study, magazine journalism) that defines a fan, and it is for this

reason that the pursuit is able to i; transgress class, culture and social boundaries and ii; evade any

tangible categorisation or definition. Henry Jenkins shares this judgement, describing fan culture to;

͚reject[] investigation of the aesthetic dimensions of the reader͛s artifacts; the

͞marks of consumption͟ are ͞invisible͟ and transient, fluid and uncontainable, not

open to direct examination or reproduction͛ (2002:223)

The observation that fandom is a deeply personal process means that an individual could

perhaps be a committed and knowledgeable fan of a particular text or discourse and conduct

himself without identifying this interest to other people. The fan of a given text; Back to the Future

(Zemeckis, 1985) for the sake of an example, may have an intrinsic awareness of a given element of
the text, and through various reasons will simply never disclose this knowledge. Hills identifies this

type of fan as a ͚lurker͛ (2002), and confirms it to be a recognised social behaviour within fandom.

This type of fan may simply not be comfortable speaking publicly or expressing themselves or their

views and should not have their enthusiasm devalued by their own social inhibition,a factor that

does not diminish or de-legitimate their claim to fandom in comparison to say, the head of the BTTF

website. The different levels of currency attributed to these peopleis unfortunately not measured

against their level of investment in the text, but are instead graded by their social availability.

This is not to suggest that this is the intended result of a system of fandom, in fact quite the

opposite: it remains an undesired side-effect of the economics of social behaviour, and if a group is

unaware of an individual they cannot address their position in the social hierarchy. It is for this

reason that the pyramid of fandom should not be perceived as a ͚tree͛, with specific practises or

individuals at the top and sub-cultures filtering through importance underneath. Instead we should

consider the situation in much less linear terms and envision a web with multiple centres. Whilst

each centre may well increase the webs power and provide more ͛stability͛ for the webs overall

strength, they are sociallyimpotent without supporting threads, and so the significant cultural

impact of the group is distributed throughout the surface of the entire network.

The metaphor extends even further, as while the individual ͚centres͛ of fandom may well

work to distance themselves, it is the bridging networks between them that ultimately strengthen

the substance of their fandom from exterior criticism: whether it be froma fan-base of another

subject (the perceived Ötar Wars [George Lucas, 1977] Ötar Trek [Various, 1979-2009] rivalry) or

from an academic or social field perceived to be operating outside of the spheres of ͚fandom͛ (if

such an abstract concept even exists).

This process of identification may seem to be irrelevant, but it is essential to recognise the

diverse forms of fandom, understand their individual contributions and production of͚meaning͛and

to recognise the dispute as being a hegemonic process. It is for this reason that this essay will not
draw solely from academic texts, as academics and fan-scholars make their contributions only from

particular perspectives. To ignore or disregard the ͚amateur fan͛ (a misleading term but used here

for only for convenience) is to undermine the process of understanding. We can herein identify a fan

as an individual who has recognised a wish to expand their knowledge or involvement in a given

text, and the only distinction to be made is the method of which they exhibit their ͚fandom͛.

Looking at the contributions fans make to the cultural economy (both within and outside

their chosen text) it is important to be as inclusive as possible, and not to dismiss the impact of

individual traditions. That being said, certain theorists are seemingly keen to terminate this

methodology in favour of more generalising notions of fandom and their social offerings. As implied

by Hills (2002:40) and expanded upon by Taylor (1999:61), fans and cultists are generally seen as

being intrinsically anti-consumerist in their approach to fandom, a perspective that I believe to be

open to contestation.

Adorno analyses the behaviour of the fan-collector as automatically siding themselves with

use-value, a term borrowed from the Marxist methodology of economic categorisation (1978:228).

The reading of this infers that by collecting and making use of a particular cultural article, fans are

removing it from the market and by simply ͚using͛ the product it is somehow worthless through its

inevitable deterioration and implied exhaustion. Whilst this model may work very well against

commodities and perishables, the concept overlooks the actual mechanics of modern fandom;

almost certainly because it may predate such a perception. Whilst the memorabilia concerned with

fandom may well be marketed towards children, it would be naïve to work under the assumption

that the child-fan is its sole, or indeed primary target, and that products are actually ͚used͛ for their

intended function.

Jenkins simultaneously manages to defend and contest Adorno͛s claims of the fan as anti-

consumerist, by permitting that ͚prized cultural texts are disintegrated through over consumption as

they are transformed from sacred artefacts into ͚cultural goods͛͛ (1992:51), but insists that
Adornodisregards the idea that texts gain significance as they are re-worked to the interests of the

individual listener. My chief concern with both attitudes is that they assume that the fan will

capitalise on this opportunity for ͚use͛, and that thiswill, by default, remove it from the prospect of

increased ͚exchange value͛; which is not the case. In many circumstances, the fan-collector will buy

specific merchandise, depositing their money into a capitalist system in the process |urely for the

|ur|ose of exchanging the item for a higher price at a later date. This is no small scale activity by any

stretch of imagination; collector͛s websites such as e-bay serve to demonstrate this. As a consumer

operating within a capitalist market, collectors are a prominent force. The only discernable

difference is that instead of the omnipotent system of oppressiondictating worthimplied by Marx,

the valuation comes from a cultural voice that holds accountability only unto itself.

The collectors and enthusiasts are implicitly aware that they are paying abundantly more

than the physical worth of an item, but they are happy to part with their money, and will often do so

sporting a smile. The reason for this is that they are aware of their investment into both an exclusive

͚club͛ of owners, and are increasing the social currency of the fan market itself. In many cases, the

object they are purchasing is irrelevant and functions merely as a token of membership. The real

͚anti-consumerist͛ philosophy associated with this activity is that this is regulated by cultural

response and is outside the reach of industrial producers and retailers, but again this is misleading.

I am able to vouch from my own experiences working in a toy retailer that such merchants

are monitored and regulated to make sure they are unable to convert this social value into monetary

value. As an example of this, the merchandising department for the movie Cars [John Lasseter and

Joe Ranft, 2006] released a range of die-cast ͚mini͛s͛, of which the film͛s protagonist Lightning

McQueen [Owen Wilson] was by far the most sought after character in the series, and yet the price

for this individual model did not differ from lesser desired alternatives. Other examples can be

gathered by simply walking into any toy store and observing the stock levels of particular characters.

The variance is obviously a result of the cultural and economic tendency towards certain characters
that somehow resonate more (or less) with their audience. As legally regulated traders , the official

͚industry͛ is removed from operating within the cultural environment, and despite being aware of

fan tendencies to attach additional ͚cultural currency͛ to a product, they are legally bound to ignore

such distinctions. owever, this being noted, we should move our attention over products that are

marketed as being ͚limited edition͛ and recognise similar behaviour amongst retailers. Common

sense would indicate that the producer of a specific material would want its distribution to operate

without limitation in order to maximise the potential profit, but again this seems to be a beguiling

myth.

In actuality, the merchandise producers are well aware that within fandom, it is exclusivity

that will merit social currency. The tactic of forced artificial scarcity is a way of addressing this aspect

of fan culture, and allowing the product to self-promote amongst post marketenthusiasts. The

longer a product, collection, even a significant presence circulates in the fan structure, the more

social currency it is likely to accrue (which, whilst being restricted in translating to immediate capital

for the retailers will hopefully translate to credibility and fan-awareness, with the next step being

the producers capitalising on this in their next departure into the range). This process is somewhat

mutually beneficial between organisations (the ͚official͛ institution & the ͚fan͛ producers of social

currency) as it increases the life of a product or cultural theme͛s market life by producing

mythologies, and allows the fans as individuals to celebrate their commitment and accredit

appreciation amongst their peers. It is important to understand, however, that there exists a level of

resistance to the infiltration of commercial ideologies into fandom, and as such the social currency is

seemingly distributed in a manner which evades the ͚dominating͛ structure of commerce.

A distinct dissimilarity exists between the methodology of ͚fan-cultures͛ and academic or

͚superior͛ cultures, and this is the process of valorisation. The Frankfurt School discussed the

polemics of High Culture vs. Low Culture, but (again no doubt due to operating in different epochs)

failed to recognise the fan tendency to grant social status to texts that are, ultimately, ͚bad͛. This is
not a subjective statement, but is recognised by a texts fan-base as being its source of

entertainment. The film Troll 2 (Claudio Fragasso, 1990) has been elevated to the status of being a

major cult presence, not in spite of its ͚poor quality͛, but because of it. The fan activity surrounding

the film has intensified to such a social position that in 2009, members of the cast produced an

award winning documentary in an attempt to understand the film͛s delayed and unintended

success; Best Worst Movie (Michael Stephenson).The documentary goes on to explain how the film

has circulated amongst fan cultures in a way that completely subverts the process of the film

industry. This is not a text that has been forced onto its audience, in-fact the film was ͚buried͛ by the

producers to such an extent that it requires a certain amount of agency from a would-be-viewer to

even find it. In the trash-cinema tradition of Ed Wood, the film is valorised by its social community,

which has reclaimed possession of it from the film industry and elevated it into the sub-cultural

canon. As one fan in the documentary states:͞It͛s so interactive, you personalise the film and you

take some kind of...ownership͟

The process of fan interaction also grants official producers a valuable opportunity for

feedback allowing them to gauge the cultural trends and shifts towards their product, and as we

shall go on to observe in studying the Batman film series, the fan͛s opinion holds significant authority

(and is arguably the factor which produces cultural currency). In investigations of modern techno-

culture and associated fandom, producers are also forced to deal with the increasingthreat of fans

taking absolute ownership (Jenkins, 2005).

It is not problematic to assume that a ͚cross-over͛ exists between Batman cinephiles (Burton,

Schumacher, Nolan, 1989-2008 [for the sake of this essay we will disregard 1966͛s Batman: The

Movie byLeslie H. Martinson, as it served as an extension of the television series and not a film in its

own right]) and the ͚Comic-book͛ series inspired by Bob Kane (I place comic-book in parenthesis for

reasons that should soon become clear). Whilst these divisions are able to operate exclusively, it is

the fans of the comic that are able to convincingly claim authority over Batman͛s ideology, and it is
this subdivision of Batman͛s fan-base that historically see themselves as ͚loyalists͛ to Kane͛s vision:

the first to attack any threat to the image of Batman that has shaped the sub-culture for over 70

years (Daniels, 1999:18).Althusserwould no doubt argue that this is a result of the texts

interpellation of its fans (Cited in Rivkin and Ryan, 1998:299), and that Batman has ͚hailed͛ them (not

literally, much to the fans dismay no doubt) and thus their defence of the cultural ideology of the

text is a result of a perceived attack against their individuality.Lacan͛s ͚Mirror Stage͛, could also be

applied to this act of fandom, with the fan misrecognising what he sees on the screen (in this case

the inherent and powerful ideology of Batman) as being an accurate ͚real͛ reflection of reality, and in

considering it to be accessible, adopting said personality traits and ͚becoming͛ Batman. However, it

is the broad application of theories such as this that seems to separate the ͚academic͛ from the

͚amateur ͛ fan, and in respect of this (and wishing to remain as inclusive as possible in our approach)

we shall cease the pursuit of theories that predate ͚the turn to Gramsci͛.

This may go some way to explaining the fan criticism applied to the Joel Schumacher films

Batman Forever (1995) and Batman & Robin (1997). Whereas Tim Burton only had the Batman

television series (1966-1968) to contend with, the later films by Schumacher were competing not

only against the precedent set by Burton but against the burgeoning popularity of Batman as a

͚Graphic Novel͛, not a ͚Comic Book͛. As Sarah J. Van Ness has discussed, the late 1980͛s saw the

appearance of the graphic novel, and by far the most successful (and prestigiously adopted by the

fan and academic community alike ) were Watchmen (Moore & Gibbons, 1986), Maus (Spiegelman,

1986) and Frank Miller͛s The Dark Knight (1986). Her research indicates that by the mid to late

1990͛s, The Dark Knight (Novel) and Watchmen (Novel) had become culturally recognised, so much

so that they have been legitimately recognised as literature (Watchmen even winning the Hugo

Award for literature) and are subsequently being taught academically (Van Ness, 2010: 32).

Whilst the Burton films were produced during this ͚blossoming͛ stage and were hence able

to courteously disregard the cultural impact of these novels (although, the films certainly recognise
the ͚dark͛ of The Dark Knight significantly more than the television series), Schumacher took hold of

the reigns to the Batman franchise at the point in which the fans were ready for the ͚graphic͛ of the

graphic novel, and were eager to escape the ͚comic͛ of the comic-book, and his decisions

increasingly appalled the solemn, ͚fanatical͛ fan-base. While the criticisms of the film varied, the

negative criticism eventually concentrated on a focal point for what the fans considered wrong with

the film (and its betrayal of the Batman ideology): The addition of ͚nipples͛ to the Bat-suit costume.

Whilst this may seem an over-reaction to a minor point in the film, I would argue that, just

as the purchase of memorabilia acts as a token of membership for the fan, the ͚Bat-nipples͛ acted as

a token of the ideology that Schumacher had attributed to the text. It could be argued that as a

literary character, Batman/Bruce Wayne has operated out of what the character perceives to be

necessity. The Bruce Wayne character, does not necessarily want to be The Batman, and many of the

DC graphic novels (such as The Widening Gyre [Kevin Smith, 2010] and Arkham Asylum [Grant

Morrison, 1989])have explored Wayne͛s attempt to escape this perceived duty. If we agree that it is

this conflict that substantiates the Batman ͚brand͛, and the fan-base has recognised this, it is not

difficult to understand the reaction to Bat-Nipples. After all, they seemingly serve no functionality

and are an entirely aesthetic choice, which seems to dispute the Batman mythology. Indeed, this

complete lack of necessity seems to be the feature that has most enraged the Batman fans, one such

enthusiast identifying himself as ͚beastboy͛ proclaiming in a fan-forum that:

͞I always thought that I could stand the Bat-nipples if they turned out to be gas pellets.

He'd be surrounded by 5 goons then starts rubbing his nips to distract them then

BOOM!͟

And another, ͚ftahgn͛, adding:

 ͞It could work if it fired something like laser beams. I mean, if was a criminal, I'd see the

error of my ways if I get hit by nipple lasers. A life of crime, I think, is not worth it if I

have to get hit by nipple lasers.͟

Whilst of course being only speculation, it could be suggested that the reason the Batman ͚reboot͛ of

the franchise, Batman Begins (Nolan, 2006) prominently featured sequences explaining and justifying

the finer details of Wayne͛s Batsuit (The explanation of the ͚memory cloth͛ cape and its necessity,

the audio amplifier built into the bat-ears, etc). Nolan even goes as far as to detail the fiscal

intricacies facing Bruce Wayne in acquiring the elements of the Bat-suit and his equipment. If this is

not a direct response to the criticism raised by fans, it is at least an attempt to ground Batman in

reality, and the title of Nolan͛s second instalment, The Dark Knight (2008) is surely an unmistakable

sign that Nolan has listened to the culture͛s fans, and is delivering the content the sub-culture chose

to mark out for valorisation nearly 20 years ago.

Through looking at only a handful (the collector-fan, the trash-movie-fan and the discourse

of the comic-fan) out of an almost indefinable amount of fan practises, I hope to have been able to

demonstrate how the fans themselves are able to contest ownership of particular subjects and texts.

Having not even discussed the practise of fan-fiction and fan-made homage texts, he fan has been

recognised as not only producer of social and cultural currency, but as being a powerful creative and

editorial force behind the formation of new cultural texts and the preservation of its intrinsic

ideologies.

' 


Adorno, T.W. (1978) MinimiaMoralia: Reflections from Damaged Life. London: Verso

Daniels, L. (1999) Batman the Com|lete istory: The Life and Times of the Dark Knight. New York:
Chronicle Books.

Freud, S. (1991 [1921]) ͚Group psychology and the analysis of the ego͛, in Penguin Freud Library 12:
Civilisation, Öociety and Religion, London: Penguin.
Hills, M. (2002) Fan Cultures. London: Routledge

Jenkins, H. (1992) Textual Poachers: Television Fans and Partici|atory Culture. London: Routledge

Jenkins, H. (2005) ͚I want my Geek TV!͛ http://flowtv.org/2005/09/i-want-my-geek-tv/ Accessed

27/12/2010.

Miller, F. (1986) Batman: The Dark Knight. New York: DC Comics

Moore, A. & Gibbons, D. (1986) Watchmen. New York: DC Comics & Titan Books.

Morrison, G. (1989) Arkham Asylum: A Öerious ouse on Öerious Earth. New York: DC Comics

Rivkin, J. & Ryan, M. (1998) Literary Theory: an Anthology. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers

Smith, B.H (1988) Contingencies of Value: Alternative Pers|ective for Critical Theory. Massachusetts:
Harvard University Press.

Smith, K. (2009) Batman: The Widening Gyre. New York: DC Comics

Spiegelman, A. (1986) Maus. New York: Pantheon Books.

Taylor, G. (1999) Artists in the Audience: Cults, Cam| and American Film Criticism. Princeton:
Princeton University Press.

Van Ness, S. J. (2010) Watchmen as Literature. New Jersey: McFarland

s 


Back to the Future, (1985) Directed by Robert Zemeckis. USA: Universal Pictures

Batman (1989) Directed by Tim Burton. USA: Warner Brothers

Batman & Robin (1997) Directed by Joel Schumacher. USA: Warner Brothers

Batman Begins (2005) Directed by Christopher Nolan. USA: Warner Brothers

Batman Forever (1995) Directed by Joel Schumacher. USA: Warner Brothers

Batman Returns (1992) Directed by Tim Burton. USA: Warner Brothers

Best Worst Movie (2009) Directed by Michael Stephenson. USA: Magic StoneProductions

Cars (2006) Directed by John Lasseter& Joe Ranft. USA: Walt Disney Studios

Ötar Wars IV: A New o|e (1977) Directed by George Lucas. USA: Twentieth Century Fox

Ötar Trek: The Motion Picture (1979) Directed by Robert Wise. USA: Paramount

The Dark Knight (2008) Directed by Christopher Nolan. USA: Warner Brothers

Troll 2 (1990) Directed by Claudio Fragasso. USA: Filmirage Productions