I am also conscious of being heavily influenced from having just finished Andrew Ross’s latest book, Bird on Fire. This fantastic and important work covers so much that I can’t manage to address in this piece: property speculation, migration, climate change, gender and racism. It’s what I have in mind when I try to link the forms of biomediated calculation that service our online experiences as much as our credit rating.

I’ll post more about Andrew’s book another soon; I just mention it here to signal how much the financial crisis seems tied to what I’m describing as ‘the waning of the commute’. Put another way: there are suburbs, and then there are suburbs.

The past few weeks I’ve been away from Sydney, my job and my computer, and now have some much needed new year energy as a result. I am (maybe?) joining the #pomodorojerk writing group when I am back at work, although I am a bit ambivalent about productivity as a value system. I mention it in case you might want to join too.

So far summer has involved about 2500kms of driving – from Sydney to Port Douglas – visiting relatives and friends. It has included a fairly average attempt to read whole books, including novels: Eugenides’ The Marriage Plot; Alexander Maksik’s You Deserve Nothing; Zadie Smith’s On Beauty (belatedly). These are all campus novels, in one way or another, so they weren’t an ideal way to tune out from academic life. Still. It helps sometimes to see your world as a genre.

I’m also most of the way through a biography of Elton Mayo which I think will be the source of a lot of writing and thinking plans in the coming year. I had no idea he was Australian and taught at the University of Queensland! This history opens up all kinds of interesting pathways and connections.

With the benefit of aircon, I’ve been catching up on Homeland as well. Read Jason Jacobs’ great take on it here. (And please, no spoilers; I’m still at ep 8).

The paper is called “The Return of Organization Man” and I’m just trying to figure out the final part of the analysis, which follows on from a discussion of the film adaptations of The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit and Revolutionary Road.

I think overall I am trying to illustrate the shift from organizations to networks, at least as this manifests in certain representations of commuter space on screen… hence the choice of examples. But my other objective is to tease out some of the ideological work that The Organization Man has done over the decades as a trope for a specifically US obsession with individualism versus conformity.

Put simply, the final switch in the argument will be to substitute Google for the Man in the Grey Flannel Suit as a model for the kind of compromised surveillance we accept following on from The Organization. All the while the suburbs remain a resilient index of conformity. This makes me wonder about the class composition – and cultural geographies – that bands like The Arcade Fire speak to in their representations of “the suburbs.” Here I am taking the apparent uproar about their Grammy win as symptomatic of something broader, i.e. could it be that networked employment may in fact only be the dominant model for some city-based types? It may not be so obvious for the many workers who still choose to live and work in the suburbs (and who I suspect despise Mad Men).

But I need help. It’s now clear that The Wilderness Downtown has become something of an industry darling – not least because it managed to get so many users to make the switch to Chrome. The first question for any friends reading this in North America is: how well does it work on your computer? I am just trying to gauge how much the whole project relies on the (North American) bias of Google Maps for its full effect. Given current broadband speeds in Australia, it’s also not possible to tell from here exactly how good the images and much lauded “experience” might be. So of course other responses are welcome from elsewhere too.

While I’m at it – and this is really for music friends: has anyone read anything interesting about The Arcade Fire aside from the typical tour interview + album review? Specifically their obsession with suburban nostalgia? There must be stuff I’m missing. I’d love to know about anything that takes on the website collaboration/ experiment from a slightly critical or scholarly point of view. Given the nature of the interwebs, it’s hard – and way too time consuming – to wade through the Grammy and FWA accolades to narrow a search.

Which is maybe something to do with what the paper is about.

This book collection offers a critical companion to the Australian television series Underbelly. Drawing on a range of perspectives – from academics, journalists and critics to the show’s production team and the wider public – it provides a comprehensive account of Underbelly’s development, screening and reception. In doing so, it explores the social, political and economic conditions that mark a successful program in the landscape of Australian television.

A feature of this collection will be to showcase new partnerships developing across media and cultural institutions in Australian screen industries. A cross-section of work in contemporary media, journalism and cultural studies will discuss key concerns for these fields, and leading critics will illustrate the possibilities for contemporary screen studies analysis.

Writers, producers, actors and directors on each of the seasons to date are invited to contribute to the collection and/or participate in interviews. “Below the line” production staff and workers in affiliated areas (eg. publicity for the series and its distributors) are particularly welcome. Potential contributors for these formats should contact the editors before submitting an abstract.

Several of the chapters for the book are already commissioned, so the purpose of this call is to fill gaps in scope. We seek chapters responding to themes in each of the three seasons of Underbelly, such as:

- underworld and criminal networks
- white collar crime, including institutional corruption
- the drug trade
- commodity distribution and logistics
- drug consumption (including comparative class demographics)
- police culture and/or the politics of bureaucracy
- tabloid media and the law
- inter-state rivalry and cultural prejudice
- the night time economy, including the privatization of security
- sex work
- migration and ethnicity (especially in relation to alternative and/or leisure economies)
- cultural tourism and city branding
- the politics of city space and suburbia
- class and aspiration
- ordinariness
- masculinity and homosociality

Industry concerns for the book include:

- screenwriting and adaptation
- franchising in a global television market
- state and corporate funding strategies
- copyright and distribution (including the piracy threat)
- ratings and advertising
- casting and the Australian acting pool
- the pedigree of successful production teams
- prospects for Australian television careers

Potential chapter contributors are advised to read the following article for further indication of the material of interest to this collection:

Melissa Gregg and Jason Wilson (2010) “Underbelly, true crime and the cultural economy of infamy” Continuum: Journal of Media and Cultural Studies 24 (3): 411-427

Abstracts for written chapters should be 250 words and should be sent to:

Melissa Gregg: melissa.gregg@sydney.edu.au
Sue Turnbull: s.turnbull@latrobe.edu.au
Jason Wilson: jason.wilson@canberra.edu.au

Abstracts are due December 31.

Accepted chapters, of 5000 words maximum, will be due at the beginning of April, 2011.

After writing the love post this week I went to see Twilight: Eclipse - part of a bonding session with K, who is writing his thesis on feminism and film. The last offering in the series was fairly ludicrous compared to the delightful angst of the first. Unlike the gender issues that continue to be the main source of outrage for many, I found the patriotism of New Moon much more of a concern. Too silly to be camp, it conveyed and I think perpetuated the claustrophobia that marks the despair of small town life for many young women. But more than that, it also depicted the contagious and fearful sensibilities that can drive certain kinds of nationalist military fervour. It was a very War on Terror kind of chick flick.

By contrast, the latest release arrives at a much more optimistic juncture. From the outset we know that Bella intends to change and join Edward in the most complete sense after graduation. Meanwhile Edward maintains he will only ravage her once he has her hand in marriage. You can connect the dots here when it comes to all the usual postfeminist positions: pro/anti marriage; career vs man; abstinence vs. rape fantasies; choice, etc. But the film actually goes on to present a very queer set of encounters.

My favourite scene is when Bella is hiding in the snowy mountains, far away from the major battle. Edward guards over her tent through the night, ever the protector. But since she is human, she feels the cold. There is nothing Edward can do to warm her that won’t add to her present danger.

In steps Jake, the perpetually shirtless rival for Bella’s heart, triumphantly entering the sleeping bag. As a human/werewolf, Jake has a simple advantage over Edward. The presence of body heat makes all the difference in this most unlikely of scenarios, with or without further exertions.

Cradled in Jake’s arms, we wonder if Bella is really asleep, while the two boys partake in a whimsical exchange. They tease each other for their respective shortcomings, and in this playful audit of strengths and weaknesses a momentary accord is reached. Without recourse to extremes, or any spectacular conflict, Bella succeeds in bringing both boys into the tent.

The metaphor is worth pressing. While clearly the two aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, there is a simplicity to this resolution that allows us to consider as a rational proposition: what girl wouldn’t want the best of both options? If two people claim to love someone, are there ways it could work? The possibility, even the ordinariness of this question – for it is the pivotal question of the film – seems important in light of dominant cultural narratives. Can we imagine multiple lovers existing without jealousy or violence, as even producing new kinds of intimacy?

The tent scene provides an opening to read this film as a much more radical fantasy than many commentators admit. What other mainstream film of this economic magnitude seriously posits that it is possible to love more than one person at once?

To this I would add: how damaging a message is it, really, for young girls to see that they might deserve a plenitude of offers for love? Or that it might be worth being prepared for the turmoil such circumstances might generate? The relationship dilemmas our heroine negotiates are actually resolved with great skill, given the paucity of ethics guides she has available.

But what kind of world would we have if there were more opportunities to admit that we can’t be everything one person might want us to be? That it’s quite okay to be intimate with a range of people who make us feel happy and safe in different ways?

For a Hollywood film, Eclipse displays a refreshing ambivalence about love’s longevity. As Bella comes closer to her irreversible decision, a succession of stories line up to demonstrate why she should be wary of transitory feelings. Conservatives obviously welcome this aspect of the franchise because of its convenient synergy with abstinence campaigns. But this needn’t be the only way to celebrate Bella’s story.

Our very desire to imagine eternity alongside the current spate of vampire narratives says so much about our culture’s stunted registers for history. And with love, timing is everything. We excel in love’s early stages, in the feeling of infatuation. But as John Armstrong argues, we’re less adept at celebrating love’s later chapters. “Mature love” can be unrecognisable set against a relationship’s opening backdrop, and this goes some way towards explaining the simultaneous rise in divorce rates and the therapy industry. Eclipse teaches this lesson too.

Its suspended status as “the transition” story in the saga makes this film a more honest reflection of the love plot. It shows that there is no such thing as The One – it’s never going to be that simple – just as there is no way of getting involved in a relationship without taking on the expectations of others. Remember Bella must be initiated into Jake’s extended family before they will defend her. The loyalty they demand in return is tremendously suffocating. This is at least one of the ways that Jake’s counter-offer starts to look intimidating. Note too that in the final scene, as her commitment to Edward becomes clear, it isn’t so much the novelty of the-two-of-them that matters. Rather, it’s the litany of signs that Bella interprets as manifesting a larger destiny, proving that she belongs with his kin(d).

There is an inevitable dystopia to all this that the film’s title gets about right. For an average American teen, Bella’s experiments with polyamory show promise, and it’s not completely clear by film’s end whether she has successfully rid herself of these desires. Given what we know from the books however, and indeed the state of queer politics, we have little reason to be hopeful. The forces of nature will soon move these alternative ways of loving and living in to the shadows, having been allowed ever so briefly to shine. We are left wondering whether the next film can keep at least some options open, and what efforts it will take to ensure that the necessary complements to mainstream history can still see the light, and thrive.

I loved this. Firstly, for the way that it illustrates how digital literacy and marketing hype each pivot on their association with youth. And, additionally, how it captures the frustration of so many employees currently staring down centrally-funded promotion strategies that invite us to extend our brand presence on to every conceivable platform.

But I also love it for the way that the script – in fact a succession of scripts this season – expresses a wider “structure of feeling” about mid-career, white collar job insecurity. I know it’s against new media protocol to admit watching the show, but this downturn-inflected season will be an ongoing reference for me in terms of illustrating what economic anxiety looks like in popular form.

And whether or not you buy that, I’d love to hear from anyone who can confirm whether the Twitter scene was actually product placement. It would certainly come in handy for the chapter I’m writing about internet politics, Shirky-style.

“Just found this room at my work with a sign saying ‘Not Working’. Could only capture one corner.”

To get rid of this stuff try Freecycle. If anyone wants what you’ve got they’ll happily come and get it.”