Capítulo 4: Pruebas de software
4.2 Pruebas de software sobre XEOS
If Ronald Reagan was the fantasy elder come to lead the sons in
triumphal battle against the Evil Empire, when the credits rolled and the sons awoke from that stardusted dream, most felt farther away from the promised land of adult manhood – less triumphal, less powerful, less confident of making a living or providing for a family or contributing productively to society. And no new elder statesman, celluloid or otherwise, loomed on the horizon.1
Because we could never really know who the ‘real’ Bill Clinton was, and because there was no ‘real’ Bill Clinton to understand for the vast
majority of Americans, the culture continued producing explanations for this president.2
The end of the Cold War may be the ultimate stage in the demythologizing of the contemporary American presidency.3
The above quotations outline the intellectual ground upon which this chapter will be based. I will argue that the 1990s represent a fundamental sea change in Hollywood’s representation of the presidency for three primary
reasons: shifting conceptions of masculinity and what it meant to ‘be a man’ in a post-Civil Rights, post-feminist environment; the popularity of Bill Clinton who, despite being beset by scandal, and lacking many of the traits that had ensured electoral success for presidents that preceded him, won two presidential elections; and the relatively peaceful conclusion to the Cold War, the ideological conflict with the Soviet Union that had functioned as the organising narrative of
1 Susan Faludi, Stiffed: The Betrayal of Modern Man (London: Vintage, 2000), p. 407. My
emphasis.
2 Shawn J. Parry-Giles and Trevor Parry-Giles, Constructing Clinton: Hyperreality and
Presidential Image-Making in Postmodern Politics (New York: Peter Lang Publishing Inc., 2002), p. 1.
3 Harold M. Barger, ‘The Incredible Shrinking Image: From Cold War to Globalist Presidency’,
in Anthony J. Eksterowicz and Glenn P. Hastedt (eds.) The Post-Cold War Presidency (Oxford: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, 1999), p. 57.
American foreign and domestic policy for forty-five years.4 How the United States should use its newly-acquired status as the world’s only remaining superpower was a product of heated debate: while many felt that an inward focus was essential after so many years of fighting battles abroad, others saw a unique opportunity for America to refashion the world in its own image. Furthermore, the cessation of what seemed a permanent conflict had enormous ramifications for traditional conceptions of masculinity, as Susan Faludi’s analysis demonstrates.
From the vantage point of our contemporary political, social and economic crises, the 1990s now looks a benign period in Western history. The triumph of democracy over totalitarianism, and the hope that the threat of nuclear annihilation had largely dissipated with the collapse of the Soviet Union, were greeted with overwhelming optimism in some circles. However, despite the outward appearance of calm, many aspects of society that had been held to be certainties underwent radical redefinition. As Shawn and Trevor Parry-Giles have suggested, the 1990s was ‘a time of considerable political angst in the
United States – a time when politics, both nationally and internationally, was in a constant state of flux and transformation.’5 With America’s global pre-eminence achieved, and the seismic shifts in the global economy demonstrated by the booming information technology industries and the decline of traditional labour- intensive work, new paradigms had to be found to understand this rapidly changing global environment. Amidst all of this, who the president should be and who he was were suddenly unanswered questions. The traditional, problematic
4 I am aware that attaching the prefix ‘post-’ to the Civil Rights and feminist movements implies
that they are at an end. I do not wish to suggest this (primarily because I am of the opinion that they certainly are not), but merely use the terms as culturally-inscribed shorthand.
association of the presidency with conventional masculine strength began to be undermined following the collapse of the Soviet Union. It is my contention that, once America had awoken from the Reagan dream and found there was no replacement, they sought to redraw, in various different guises and from wildly divergent points of inspiration, the traditional presidential-father in the Hollywood dream factory.
Films featuring the president in the 1990s were plentiful and diverse. Where the office had hitherto been treated largely with seriousness and respect in Hollywood cinema (its representation largely the preserve of serious drama and biographical films), the 1990s saw the presidency represented in a wide variety of genres. In order to provide a broad impression of why this occurred, I will place particular emphasis on two opposing ends of the generic spectrum: this chapter will examine the presidency in the comedy (Dave and The American President) and action (Independence Day and Air Force One) genres. My discussion will provide some answers to the following questions: why did the fictional presidency proliferate in the 1990s? Do the representations of the president reflect contemporary anxieties surrounding the office, or are they more concerned with recycling older Hollywood genres and archetypes? If the texts are indeed nostalgic rearticulations of traditional forms, how does this impact upon our understanding of the fictional presidency and its relationship with the real-world presidency? I will discuss all four films in relation to visual style, narrative, and iconography, and the ways in which generic conventions impact upon the representations of presidential power. First, I will flesh out the concerns with which I began this chapter: the changes occurring within the office as a
result of America’s Cold War victory, concomitant redefinitions of masculinity
in the period, and the centrality of Bill Clinton in relation to these issues.
Waking from the Dream: The Cold War, The End of History and Clinton As Stephen Schier argues, ‘the end of the Cold War … importantly altered the president’s job description.’6
George Bush Sr. was a victim of this shift: although the demonstration of his masculine warrior credentials in the swift and successful execution of the Gulf War proved popular, he had no grand vision for where this New World Order would take the United States.7 Moreover, he had considerable trouble in relating to ordinary Americans, as evidenced by the infamous news footage of him astonished by a supermarket barcode scanner. While he tried to reconfigure himself as a gentler, more conciliatory version of his predecessor, Bush failed to embody the presidential dichotomy of man and superman that Reagan had managed so adroitly.8 He came across as a technocratic rather than emotional leader, and he was a step behind the times in which ‘the hard-bodied male action heroes of the eighties [had] given way to a “kinder, gentler” U.S. manhood, one that is sensitive, generous, caring, and perhaps most importantly, capable of change.’9
To be kind to Bush, foreign policy now ‘mattered little to a society persuaded that the great danger to its
6 Stephen E. Schier, ‘A Unique Presidency’, in Stephen E. Schier (ed.) The Postmodern
Presidency (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2000), p. 5.
7 As Derek Chollet and James Goldgeier note of Bush Sr., the end of the Cold War ‘coincided
with a presidency that was proudly pragmatic and uncomfortable with conceptualizing.’ - Derek Chollet and James Goldgeier, America Between the Wars: From 11/9 to 9/11: The Misunderstood Years Between the Fall of the Berlin Wall and the Start of the War on Terror (New York: Public Affairs, 2008), p. 8.
8 As Jeffords suggests, ‘Bush would struggle throughout his presidency to straddle the images of
himself as a man who “cares” about people and as a tough commander-in-chief. …‘For Reagan these dual presidential poses merged seamlessly in his image as “father” to the nation. For George Bush they never merged’. – Susan Jeffords, Hard Bodies: Hollywood Masculinity in the Reagan Era (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1994), pp. 95-99.
9 Susan Jeffords, ‘The Big Switch: Hollywood Masculinity in the Nineties’, in Jim Collins, Hilary
Radner and Ava Preacher Collins (eds.) Film Theory Goes to the Movies (London: Routledge, 1993), p. 197.
security had passed, that the time had come once again to enjoy a well-earned prosperity, too long deferred.’10
To be cutting, and to quote Clinton’s 1992 campaign slogan, ‘It’s the economy, stupid.’
As the Clinton campaign’s now clichéd mantra suggests, the 1992
election was decided on domestic issues. A good record in the military and foreign affairs was deemed unnecessary: despite Bush’s best efforts to position
Bill Clinton as a draft-dodger, Clinton won the 1992 election comfortably. He was therefore the first president to not have served in the military since Franklin D. Roosevelt.11 Clinton was able to win on a pluralistic platform that made a virtue of his lack of ideology: without the threat of communism and the absence of any other compelling ‘ism’ to fulfil the role of villain in the American narrative, there was suddenly no need for ‘isms’ at all.12
A public saturated with media that emphasised discontinuity and irony over consistency and conviction allowed Clinton to evade the numerous attacks on his character and personal behaviour, and avoid pursuing a consistent ideological project which may have backfired.13 As Bruce Miroff argues, ‘Who Clinton “really was” … did not rest on a stable character structure or set of convictions’.14 Indeed, ‘who the president “really” was had become largely insignificant’.15
Clinton revelled in his ambiguous status. He positioned himself as traditionally masculine, conforming
10 Stephen Graubard, The Presidents: The Transformation of the American presidency from
Theodore Roosevelt to George W. Bush (London: Penguin, 2006), p. 648.
11 As Schier argues, the characteristics of a president which the American public had deemed
‘mandatory’ in the preceding four decades were now seemingly obsolete. – Schier, ‘A Unique Presidency’, p. 5.
12 Bruce Miroff suggests that Clinton’s freedom from ‘ideology and dogma’ allowed him ‘to
move nimbly from one position to another as political fashion dictates.’ - Bruce Miroff, ‘Courting the Public: Bill Clinton’s Postmodern Education’, in Schier (ed.) The Postmodern Presidency, pp. 106-7.
13 With the end of the Cold War came the death of grand ideas about how to remake society:
Clinton’s only meaningful pursuit of a grand platform – the disastrous attempt at healthcare reform early in his first term – prompted him to declare in his 1996 State of the Union address that ‘the era of big government is over’.
14
Miroff, ‘Courting the Public’, p. 112.
to the dominant conception of the presidency, and sensitive, attuned to the less aggressive environment of the 1990s.16 Like the Hollywood heroes who had begun to explore their ‘feminine sides’ in the early 1990s, so too was the presidency subtly altering itself to remain attuned to the politics of the moment.17 Clinton was canny enough to realise that expectations of the presidency had altered, and by offering a ‘newly sensitive, empathetic presidency’, and distancing himself from the aggressive masculinity associated with the ’80s, he won power.18
However, there remained audible voices demanding that America not lay down its weapons after the Soviet Union’s collapse. Charles Krauthammer and
Richard Nixon implored the current political leadership to seize the opportunity to impose Americanism upon the world, ensuring that free market capitalism and democracy could flourish everywhere.19 Francis Fukuyama controversially, and prematurely, argued that, with the collapse of Communism, ‘history’ had ended - the world had now realised that liberal democracy was the ideal form of government.20 Girded by the collapse of the Soviet Union, Fukuyama suggested the move towards capitalism and democracy was an inevitable, natural evolutionary process for all nations.21 However, the associated changes in
16 As Parry-Giles and Parry-Giles suggest of the simultaneously feminine/masculine image
projected in his 1992 campaign film The Man from Hope, ‘even though the film constructed an
intimate image of Clinton with its feminine style, its dependence on hegemonic masculinity ideologically comforted those who would fear a weakening of the heroic presidency.’ - Parry- Giles and Parry-Giles, Constructing Clinton, p. 36.
17
John Benyon argues that these shifts were ‘not so much a rebellion, but an adaptation to masculinity. Men change, but only in order to hold onto power, not to relinquish it’. - John Benyon, Masculinities and Culture (Buckingham: Open University Press, 2002), p. 116.
18 Brenton J. Malin, American Masculinity Under Clinton: Popular Media and the Nineties
“Crisis of Masculinity” (New York: Peter Lang Publishing, 2005), p. 58.
19 Charles Krauthammer, ‘The Unipolar Moment’, Foreign Affairs 70:1 (1990/1), pp. 23-33;
Richard Nixon, Seize the Moment: America’s Challenge in a One-Superpower World (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1994).
20 Francis Fukuyama, The End of History and the Last Man (London: Penguin Books, 1992), p.
ix.
dominant conceptions of masculinity, the presidency, and American national identity were not viewed entirely positively: Fukuyama worried that victory may cause men to become inert and complacent; ‘the end of history would mean the end of wars and bloody revolutions. Agreeing on ends, men would have no large causes for which to fight.’22
While shifting conceptions of masculinity and the presidency had demonstrated the Reagan-era ‘hard body’ to be untenable, there remained palpable apprehension regarding the ‘soft body’ that might replace it.23
This uncertain era was embodied by Bill Clinton, and ambiguity shrouded the presidency as an institution: was the president a hero or a villain?24 Who was he fighting, and what was he fighting for?25 From a position of global supremacy, with no more coherent, totemic enemies with which to grapple, and with a president who epitomised a contradictory age, these concerns manifest themselves in a cycle of Hollywood cinema diverse in style, genre, and tone. As Parry-Giles and Parry-Giles suggest, the ambivalence surrounding Clinton was explored by ‘[a] culture [that] continued producing explanations for this president.’26
22 Fukuyama, The End of History, p. 311.
As Tom Engelhardt suggests, ‘it is now practically a cliché that, with the end of the Cold War and the “loss of the enemy”, American culture has entered a period of crisis that raises profound questions about national purpose and identity.’ - Tom Engelhardt, The End of Victory Culture: Cold War America and The Disillusioning of a Generation (New York: Basic Books, 1995), p. 10.
23 Jeffords, Hard Bodies, pp. 178-93. 24
The lack of heroic leadership within the presidency was seen as problematic: as Miroff suggests of the unfolding narrative of the Lewinsky scandal, ‘there were no heroes: the public had to choose between an untrustworthy president, a zealous and relentless prosecutor, polarized partisans, and a sensation-addicted press.’ The Lewinsky Scandal suggested that, without an external enemy, Americans seemed content to squabble amongst themselves. - Miroff, ‘Courting the Public’, p. 119.
25 As Parry-Giles and Parry-Giles argue, ‘Bill Clinton represented for many Americans the
epitome of inauthentic politics – a politics governed by artifice and polls with a singular concern for communication and image, not governance and rectitude.’ - Parry-Giles and Parry-Giles,
Constructing Clinton, p. 124.
The Fictional 1990s Presidency
The uncertainty that descended upon the presidency following Reagan’s consummate performance of its competing demands left the office ripe for investigation, excavation and parody. Oliver Stone’s Nixon psychoanalysed the disgraced former president, locating the reasons for Watergate in the traumas he suffered during childhood. Comedies such as alien invasion parody Mars Attacks! (Tim Burton, 1996) and My Fellow Americans (Peter Segal, 1996) caricature the president as bumbling and feckless, while Dick (Andrew Fleming, 1999) suggests it was Nixon’s incompetence, rather than anything malevolent,
that led to the Watergate scandal. Concerns regarding the influence of the media upon the political and electoral processes emerge in mockumentary Bob Roberts
(Tim Robbins, 1992), and satirical comedies Primary Colors (Mike Nichols, 1998) and Wag the Dog (Barry Levinson, 1998). While political thrillers of the 1970s, like All the President’s Men and The Parallax View, constructed the presidency as symbolic of malignancy within federal government, films of similar generic disposition in the 1990s render the president a physical presence, culpable for, or associated with, altogether more violent crimes, like the murder of a young woman in Absolute Power or Murder at 1600.
Absolute Power demonstrates the extent to which Hollywood demystified and denigrated the presidency in the 1990s. President Alan Richmond (Gene Hackman) is a ghastly creation; a drunken and lecherous man with a deadly penchant for sado-masochistic sex. In a more metaphorical fashion than the Lewinsky scandal, films like Absolute Power demonstrated how Hollywood deconstructed the presidential phallus by revealing the ‘paltry’ penis that exists beneath it. As Loren Glass suggested of the demythologisation of the presidency
following the Lewinsky scandal, ‘The penis – in the end a paltry thing – must be concealed if its fictional equation to the omnipotent phallus is to be sustained.’27
I am primarily concerned with the breakdown of this equation: how Hollywood deconstructed the president as a symbol, revealing him to be ordinary, human, fallible, frail, and capable of heroism but also of weakness.
The Pluralistic Presidency of the 1990s: The Romantic Comedy & The Action Movie
The first half of the chapter will investigate two comedies: Dave (Ivan Reitman, 1993) and The American President (Rob Reiner, 1995). I will argue that Dave represents the presidency on the cusp of change at the start of Clinton’s
administration, a nostalgic yearning for a Capraesque ‘common man’ as president, and a rejection of mean-spiritedness of the Reagan/Bush years. The American President is more firmly of the Clinton period, raising issues surrounding presidential identity, privacy, and the distinction between the man and the office (with particular emphasis on changing gender politics in relation to the presidency).
The second half will turn to the invention of the action hero president in science-fiction/disaster film Independence Day (Roland Emmerich, 1996) and action thriller Air Force One (Wolfgang Petersen, 1997). Through discussion of genre, narrative and mise-en-scène, I will argue that both films look to reinstate the heroic presidency which had become obsolete following the end of the Cold War. Because the complex international terrain in which the United States found itself after the collapse of the Soviet Union was unlikely to realise the utopian
future envisioned by some, this dream would have to be enacted in the realm of fantasy: the motion picture.