A few years ago, preluding the fiftieth anniversary of BBC
show Doctor Who, a fan created a montage (“Doctor Who: The First Question – 50th Anniversary Trailer”)
celebrating the show’s history. It’s brilliant. The extended version got over a
million views. It had to be removed due to copyright, so the creator put it on
another account, and it’s stayed thus far. But I suppose it was so popular the
BBC didn’t want viewers to think it was official. There’s loads of other fan-made
videos, and they’ve been left in peace. Some viewers commented that the BBC
should have been thankful for the publicity.
The creator said the video was a love-letter to the show. I think about pre-Internet, when fans had the options
of sending an actual letter of admiration to an actor, band, ect. or create a
collage of pictures in their closet, secretly, to not embarrass themselves (was
that really a thing?) But now, it’s awesome that these love letters aren’t
passive. They’re not secretive. They make up, like Baym says, a community. I
like what Ethan Kaplan said about community: “The label promotes, distributes and
develops artists while the fans support them underneath” (Baym, 41). Even if fandoms start out as a means to share
a common interest, these videos, fanfiction, two-second gifs popping up again
and again on Tumblr, are all both drawing in and tightening the community. I
think some producers hope the community will grow into a kingdom, with all the
fans subservient, but that’s not the way fandoms work.
I understand why some people wouldn’t want fans taking over
their image. I bet that can get pretty awkward, even rude. But I see it this
way. Once something is posted on the Internet, it has the potential to grow. Growing,
whether artists like Usher or Prince like it or not, doesn’t just mean “getting
bigger.” It means being added to. Of course, people who are rude, who bash artists just because they feel like bashing someone,
ought to be tossed into the dungeons (but since we’ve decided fandoms are communities, not kingdoms, that’s not
likely). It’s also not fair that, like Baym says, fans “prefer to maintain
independence” (32) while the artist allows himself to be pulled apart,
examined, and pieced back in sometimes grotesque forms. Is there no control?
Well. Copyright is control. But then we have to ask where to
draw the line, because certainly not every fan-made piece means harm. And some
people engage in mocking their idols because they love them so much (think
HISHE or Honest Trailer, YouTube channels that nitpick movie gaps and faults
but ends up highlighting how awesome those movies are).
The Internet has allowed for so much publicity. My last blog
post mentioned how a YouTuber can gain enough fans solely through YouTube that
a huge crowd will jump at the chance to meet that person. I think one of the reasons
people do is they feel like they can participate almost on the same level as
the YouTuber. I wouldn’t go as far as to agree with Baym’s statement that fans
need to be seen as equals (42), but certainly the sense of community is
stronger when a person is able to communicate to his fans through a blog or a
video, rather than through more indirect means, like an interview in a
magazine. We feel like we know that
personal on a personal level—well, as personal as you can get between a script
and a screen. Overall, I agree with Baym that the Internet has changed the
relationship between artists and fans for the better. Maybe if I were famous, I’d feel differently, but from a fan’s
point of view, being able to connect with people over the same interest is half
of the experience.
