
I first encountered Bolter and Grusin's Remediation in a
rhetoric and technology course I took as a graduate student. I read the
first few sections, then the section on computer games, and let the
book collect dust until I decided to re-read it from a game studies
perspective. The problem was that I found the book quite dry. It
reminds me of a "healthy" cereal packed with vitamins but with no yummy
marshmallows. To be blunt, I find it boring, especially after reading
Lev Manovich's far more moving work on new media. There are precious
few "memorable quotations" in Remediation, and much of it feels
redundant after the first chapter. The one concession to the reader
here is a series of wonderful illustrations—yet they are clustered
mostly at the beginning of the book and are in dismal black and white.
A set of colorful plates in the middle are nice to look at it, though
mostly just color versions of the black and white illustrations. I
guess this setup made the book cheaper to publish. Perhaps Bolter and
Grusin (B&G) should consider following Manovich's example and
publish an illustrations website.
I also felt a bit skeptical of the authors' emphasis on virtual reality
technology. Is it just me, or is "virtual reality" so 1990s?
I think I can sum up Remediation by quoting one passage from
it: "New media are doing exactly what their predecessors have done:
presenting themselves as refashioned and improved versions of other
media, digital visual media can best be understood through the ways in
which they honor, rival, and revise linear-perspective painting,
photography, film, television, and print" (15). B&G claim that all
media "remediate" other media in these various ways. The rest of the
book offers support for this argument. I'm not really sure why we
needed a book to make this argument; to me it has always been obvious
that media are interrelated. It is also clear (and I thought pretty
clear to everyone) that new media is influenced by older media. What
exactly is Bolter and Grusin's contribution, then?
What I find most valuable in the book is the authors' treatment of
immediacy and hypermediacy, or "transparency and opacity." I first
encountered this juxtaposition in Richard Lanham's book The Electronic
Word, where Lanham describes looking "at" rather than "through" a
medium. To put it simply, "immediacy" is when we feel immersed in a
medium and not thinking "Hey, I'm playing a game now!" Of course, if
you were to shake a person and ask, "What are you doing?" The person
wouldn't say, "I'm trying to rebuild D'ni," but rather "I'm playing Myst Uru.
The point is that we don't actually get so immersed in a medium that we
are tricked into thinking we are physically in the virtual world, but
only that our attention isn't drawn to the medium as such. An easy
example of what I'm talking about is the long loading times of some
popular modern console games (such as Jade Empire). Apparently
the long waiting times required by these games are enough to break the
game's continuity. Another example is "stuttering," or when a
computer's resources are over-taxed and a game's animation and sound
become jerky, rendering the game mostly unplayable. Obviously, such
things diminish "immediacy" because they remind us (in a rather
annoying way) that we are only playing a game, and a poorly designed
one at that! B&G discuss the "logic of transparent immediacy" and
the various techniques practitioners in various mediums attempted to
efface their "artifice."
Hypermediacy occurs when we want to notice the interface. The common
Windows desktop is an example. We want the icons to be clearly
discernible and often want some idea of what our computer is up to
(though Windows is known for making its inner workings as mysterious as
possible to the user). We see lots of hypermediacy in cartoons,
especially older ones. I can remember plenty of Bugs Bunny cartoons in
which the characters acknowledge their nature as cartoons and peer out
at the audience. I always think of two lovers out on a "date." Of
course, there is always something contrived about such events, and part
of that contrivance is what makes it so fun. We're not just out with a
friend or colleague; we're on a "date" and want the other person (and
hopefully others) to be clear about that. It's pretty rotten when you
discover at some point that your partner refuses to call it a "date"
and says instead that she's just out with a friend. Though we long for
the "immediacy" of genuine affection, we also yearn for the
"hypermediacy" of being part of a special kind of social event. B&W
use PACMAN as an example of hypermediacy: "PACMAN is completely opaque;
there is nothing behind or beyond the interface…The game is an
interface, and so for the player the immediacy of the experience can
only come through acknowledging the medium" (91). This example doesn't
sit well with me. I don't know anyone who would really agree with
B&G if he or she just thought about what it's like to actually play
Pacman. To say we are "playing Pacman as an interface" is rather like
saying a child is "playing chess" when in fact she is only playing with
the pieces (perhaps chewing on them, even!) You may be "playing" if you
are staring at the interface and contemplating it as such, but you're
not "playing Pacman." I may seem to be quibbling here, but this issue
has really made me question the validity of B&G's
"immediacy/hypermediacy" dichotomy and thus a major part of their
argument.
Remediation spends a great deal of time discussing something
I've always found interesting: painting. In particular, the authors
discuss Renaissance painting and the development of perspective. The
goal of these artists was to make their paintings look like little
windows to the outside world, and tried to make them as "realistic" as
possible. However, perspective wasn't enough by itself. Bolter and
Grusin write: "To achieve transparency, linear perspective was regarded
as necessary but not sufficient, for the artist must also work the
surface to erase his brush strokes" (28). It's really fascinating to
think about how Renaissance painters tried to hide the evidence of
their brush and compare that fixation with how so many modern films try
to blend CGI with live-action without it being so noticeable. B&G
also make the same claim about modern programmers: "Programmers seek to
remove the traces of the presence in order to give the program the
greatest possible autonomy" (27). This tendency is very clear in games
like Myst, but not so clear in id's Doom series, where the player often encounters references to the game and development team (there's even a special area in Doom 3
where the player receives a "Thank you" from the game's development
team and read their "personal thanks." I follow B&G's point,
though. Generally, if are attention is drawn to a program as such, it's
because of an error or bug. If it acts as we expect it to act, we don't
tend to think about who programmed it or how.
B&W take great pains to avoid technological determinism, which
means to assert that social changes are brought about by technological
developments (as though the technology itself caused the change rather
than the people who use it). B&G "explore digital technologies
themselves as hybrids of technical, material, social, and economic
factors" (76). We all know people who argue that the Internet and
computers are evil because there are so many people in poor countries
who have no access. Such technologies are only widening the gap, and
thus we should ignore them. One of my favorite moments reading Remediation
occurred when I read this line: "To condemn new media is to condemn
contemporary culture itself—in a kind of jeremiad that has made a few
humanists wealthy but has not helped to explain our current cultural
moment" (78). I will definitely be using this quotation next time I am
confronted by one of those people who attempt to discourage me from
studying new media.
I also found B&G's discussion of Myst particularly
insightful; probably the most interesting I've read. B&G write,
"Almost certainly without the conscious intent of its authors, Myst
turns out to be an allegory about the remediation of the book in an age
of digital graphics" (94). What B&G have in mind here is how the
brothers and Atrus are "trapped" in the book, which actually contain
digital video. B&G argue that "in the course of playing, what the
Myst player is actually discovering are the moments and strategies by
which the computer game remediates the printed book" (96). It's an
interesting argument, and one that I can better understand now that
I've read Remediation and completed both Myst and its two sequels. The books in the Myst
series may be printed books (usually containing vital hints), but also
portal books which contain digital video clips which, if touched,
transport the character to another "age." The larger story arc is more
complex. In various scenes in Riven, we see Atrus "writing"
worlds with just his old-fashioned quill, yet when he is finished they
become full-fledged "ages" through which people can travel. There is
always some (often hokey) pretext to explain why the ages the player
visits are so lifeless and empty when they were allegedly once quite
busy. It's also a bit questionable how civilizations could flourish in
the relatively tiny "ages" of Myst, which usually consist of islands
surrounded on all sides by infinite seas. Technically speaking, it
would be a nightmare to fully develop all of these ages and populate
them with even half-way plausible people (games like Morrowind tend to do this better). The recent game Sentinel
handled this problem very well with a much more plausible pretext; the
player is not visiting actual worlds but only "shadows," just fleshed
out enough to give an impression of what they must have been like.
There are plenty of other interesting discussions in Remediation.
I think B&G's description of shopping malls and amusement parks is
particularly intriguing. It's fun to think about the various parts of
Disney World are supposed to look "like real places," yet no one
actually lives there. B&G see a connection to cyberspace here:
"Cyberspace is not, as some assert, a parallel universe…It is rather a
nonplace, with many of the same characteristics as other highly
mediated nonplaces. Cyberspace is a shopping mall in the ether" (179).
I really liked this "shopping mall in the ether" metaphor; it's too bad
more of Remediation couldn't have contained more pearls like it.
The final section of Remediation is about the self, and our
technologies like VR are giving us new possibilities for understanding
ourselves. Dystopic movies like The Matrix paint a bleak
picture of a world where our minds have transcended our bodies with the
help of technology and networks, but B&G see more positive
possibilities. VR may eventually allows us "to occupy the position, and
therefore the point of view, of people or creatures different from
ourselves" (245). Whether people will want to use this to experience
what life is like as a starving African dying of AIDS or as Caligula is
another matter—yet I see where B&G is going. VR could become the
ultimate "empathy" tool and thus represent a powerful tool for
humanists.
While I'm glad to have read Remediation and feel that I've
profited by doing so, I would more likely recommend Manovich to an
aspiring new media scholar. To put it bluntly, Manovich says much of
the same stuff but with more pizzazz. Remediation feels "too
careful," more like a dissertation than a vibrant work on new media by
some of the field's most seasoned and visible members. On the other
hand, Manovich relies heavily on his understanding of cinema to make
sense of new media, whereas Bolter and Grusin spend more time talking
about Renaissance and modernist painting. Both books describe "virtual
reality" as the old head-set stuff that we never hear about it anymore
except in books like this. I'm beginning to wonder if "new media" is
simply too vast of a term to really have much use and would rather
stick to one form of new media—videogames, another term which is vast
enough to cover almost all kinds of only marginally related
phenomena.
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