The Cultural Politics of Colorblind TV Casting

Kristen J. Warner

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2015
• eBook ISBN: 9781317700623
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Media Studies
• Index: Social Sciences

This book fills a significant gap in the critical conversation on race in media by extending interrogations of racial colorblindness in American television to the industrial practices that shape what we see on screen. Specifically, it frames the practice of colorblind casting as a potent lens for examining the interdependence of 21st century post-racial politics and popular culture. Applying a 'production as culture' approach to a series of casting case studies from American primetime dramatic television, including ABC's Grey's Anatomy and The CW's The Vampire Diaries, Kristen Warner complicates our understanding of the cultural processes that inform casting and expounds the aesthetic and pragmatic industrial viewpoints that perpetuate limiting or downright exclusionary hiring norms. She also examines the material effects of actors of color who knowingly participate in this system and justify their limited roles as a consequence of employment, and finally speculates on what alternatives, if any, are available to correct these practices. Warner's insights are a valuable addition to scholarship in media industry studies, critical race theory, ethnic studies, and audience reception, and will also appeal to those with a general interest in race in popular culture.

1 Casting as Cultural Production

In a 2009 New York Times article, a disability advocate’s group criticized the hiring of actress Abigail Breslin for the role of Helen Keller in an upcoming Broadway revival of The Miracle Worker. According to the article, Alliance for Inclusion in the Arts, the advocacy group for deaf and blind actors, argued the producers should have auditioned one of their members for the role. In response, producer David Richenthal asserted it was not a negligent slip up but rather a decision based in commerce and that, by casting Breslin in the lead role, he could recruit investors for the production. “It’s simply naïve to think that in this day and age you’ll be able to sell tickets to a play revival solely on the potential of the production to be a great show.”¹ Rebutting Richenthal’s logic, Sharon Jensen, executive director of the advocacy group, argued “the issue transcended Broadway economics … that a deaf or blind actress would be able to imbue the role of Helen with her experience.”²

In a different story from USA Today, a multi-Hollywood union disability advocate group criticized the hit Fox television show Glee (2009–) for not casting one of their paraplegic members as the physically disabled character Artie, instead going with an actor who would have to portray a teenager in a wheelchair.³ A variety of rationales were hypothesized on the part of the advocacy group: “I think there’s a fear of litigation, that a person with disabilities might slow a production down, fear that viewers might be uncomfortable.”⁴ As with The Miracle Worker example, Brad Falchuk, executive producer of Glee, responded to the criticism with an explanation that suggested of all the actors he considered for Artie’s role—including Black, white, and those in wheelchairs—it was difficult to find an actor who could sing, dance (in a wheelchair), and have the charisma necessary for the medium.

I begin with these examples as a way of illustrating the interrelation between casting and its impact on public consciousness. In that same USA Today article, the author asserts: “Television … has a unique place in the country’s cultural and social fiber. It deals in volume, is entrenched in most lives as it consumes hours of leisure time and has the daily power to reinforce attitudes or reshape them. Increasingly, it’s been expected to reflect America in whole and not just the so-called mainstream.”⁵ While I am not advocating for an oversimplified analysis of television’s impact on viewer reception, understanding how the author believes television should reflect a very different America than it currently does is a helpful starting point. Based on his responses in the article, it is unlikely Glee producer Falchuk would disagree with the assessment. On the contrary, he goes out of his way to illustrate how he looked for a diverse cast of the best actors he could find. One important component not to underestimate is the word “actor.” For these professionals, the best actor does not necessarily reflect America as a whole; best actor reflects the person who can portray the best version of American in whole. This is not only true with regard to actors with disabilities versus actors without them and the politics of acting versus more realistic verisimilitude but also is true with regard to race, ethnicity, age, and sexuality.

Assumptions and hiring decisions revolving around the best portrayal of these identities are tied up in cultural understandings of what the identities look like and, more important, how the identities can best be represented. These understandings are central functions of the cultural industry of casting. But this knowledge begs the question, “How are these knowledge systems developed”? In this chapter I begin a conversation about the casting process at large. I want first to describe how casting functions as a mode of cultural production that shapes and maintains racial hierarchies. Next, through interviews with and observations of casting directors and guild representatives in Austin, Texas and Los Angeles, California, I want to reinforce how the casting process works.⁶ My ultimate goal here is to demonstrate how television casting has changed in the last few years to accommodate colorblindness as a hegemonic process.

CULTURES OF PRODUCTION/PRODUCTIONS OF CULTURE AND CASTING

In Paul du Gay’s analysis of the cultural production of the Sony Walkman, he describes how the discourse around the development of the technology was not just designed to understand how the artifact was represented but also how the processes producing the artifact were represented. Du Gay posits:

We need to think about how the various processes of production are understood and given meaning by being labeled and categorized in various ways (“innovative,” “Japanese,” “teamwork,” and so on). To understand processes we need to refer to more than the title of occupational roles (engineer, assembler, and president) and definition of specific activities (welding, purchasing, wiring). What we need to try to understand are the definitive practices used in the production of the Walkman and the way that such widespread practices are represented in terms of specific values, beliefs and patterns of working. What we may call the culture of production is an integral part of the company way of life that informs intra-organizational decisions and activities (such as staff recruitment policies, departmental organizational arrangements and general management strategies).⁷

Du Gay’s points correlate to a study of casting. Indeed, many of the same assumptions are at work. Rather than limiting the definition of the casting director to the individual who auditions actors for parts in feature films, television programs, and commercials, examining how those casting practices occur and under which constraints demonstrates its place as part of cultural production. Moreover, it cannot be overstated how much casting is based on certain hegemonic assumptions of racial identity that are accepted and reinforced by the Hollywood industry. Also important to take into account when exploring the specific values and beliefs embedded in Hollywood is the common mantra I heard repeatedly in interviews: “Acting is fiction.” That platitude presents a paradox of knowledge because while a common-sense notion of what various racial and ethnic groups look and act like pervades, if an individual who is not necessarily a member of those racial/ethnic groups can perform or is imbued with their apparent essences, then that person is just as worthy of the part as the more “natural” candidate. This paradoxical belief will be brought up throughout the project because, as I have come to observe, the negotiation of this common sense is never clear or simple.

Keith Negus reasserts that last point when he cites the work of Richard Peterson and John Ryan. By outlining the “production of culture” perspective, Peterson and Ryan challenge the more traditional notion of production as a “filter-flow” model. The filter-flow model suggests that once the raw material product is delivered to the industrial organization, it will be processed and distributed to the public. On the contrary, Peterson and Ryan argue, “elements of culture are ‘fabricated’ amongst occupational groups and within social milieus for whom symbol system production is most self-consciously the centre of activity.”⁸ Put simply, the act of producing a cultural artifact is not a filtration system but a system of fabrication that each member of the process shares, because production is not just about the product itself but about the product’s symbolic meaning. Further, Peterson and Ryan argue the production of culture perspective functions more as an assembly line where “they considered a number of skilled specialists have a part in shaping the final work as it goes through a series of stages.”⁹ Using their case study of country music as evidence, Negus continues: “Ryan and Peterson then followed the progress of country music songs along a ‘decision chain’ of discrete activities which involved writing, publishing, recording, marketing, manufacturing, and consumption. At each stage they observed that a number of choices were confronted and a number of modifications might be made to the songs.”¹⁰ Because this system seems extremely unified and overly idealistic for a set of organizations managed by people who are not always unified and overly idealistic, Negus posits that, although the product is passed through the decision chain, far more fragmentation exists in terms of job activity, making it more akin to a jigsaw puzzle than a linear assembly. “The pieces of the jigsaw often did not come together and the process was often not successful because the jigsaw was continually being changed as it was being put together.”¹¹

This jigsaw illustration is important to casting because I would be in grave error if I suggested casting was the most important part of the production process or it was a bottom-up practice. The fact is that while the casting directors are doing their fragmented part of the job, they are reliant on the writers as well as the talent agents, producers, directors, and network executives for further decisions and directives. The jigsaw puzzle organization results in casting processes that are ongoing because of all the back and forth communiqués among these disparate groups. And yet, casting is such a vital practice because, in many ways, these workers are the gatekeepers for talent as well as a repository for important cultural notions of race, ethnicity, and sexuality.

A final factor Negus mentions as part of the culture of production is the notion of creativity. Negus asserts that while the media industries ultimately produce products that function for many of their parent companies as widgets, these cultural artifacts are still thought of as a result of a creative process. Media industry professionals need to believe they are not making widgets and sprockets but symbolic product that will be consumed and appreciated because it is innovative, imaginative, and creative. Negus discusses how creativity is a function of these industries.

Creative practice is not approached as inspirational and radically new, nor as something that everybody does in a kind of everyday creative way. Instead, ongoing cultural production involves working with recognizable codes, conventions and expectations. It entails putting together various audio and visual components in a recognizably familiar but slightly different way. It is that slightly different-ness that is usually the source of critical discussion, rather than any sudden dramatic change. It is the newness and familiarity to which audiences and other musicians are responding.¹²

I argue the same process of institutional creativity happens within the television production industry. Although casting directors swear they just know when they meet the right person for the part, it is more likely they have seen a number of similar versions of that right person. And usually, that right person adheres to the standardized codes, conventions, and expectations of the industry the casters service. As an example, with no training or experience, after watching a number of actors audition for the same part, I too could begin to recognize what the expected look of the actor was supposed to be and could also select the best person for the job. In short, creativity is not a mystical, inspirational act; within these industries, it is a learned and socialized behavior. To illustrate the way creativity manifests in television production, I offer three ethnographic accounts that demonstrate how this learned behavior is rooted in deeply held ideologies that manifest as tensions between the creators (particularly the casting director) and their products.¹³

CASTING ON THE THIRD COAST

In Fall 2007, I registered for an ethnography class where I developed a pilot study that would end up becoming the foundation of this book project. Since it was my first time conducting fieldwork, I decided not to try to conquer Hollywood just yet but rather to take advantage of Hollywood’s local presence in Austin, Texas while still a student at the University of Texas at Austin. In early October I bought a badge and attended the Austin Film Festival, a yearly event not only dedicated to exhibiting films but also to talking about the television industry with those involved in its production. An ethnography project in itself, I walked around and observed the potential writers, actors, and producers trying to learn how to break into the insular Hollywood machine mingling with those individuals already in power positions. In the business panels I attended, television executives and writers spoke about the changing face of television and the need for innovation.

During one session titled “Groundbreaking TV,” a white male ABC network producer in charge of Ugly Betty (2006–2010) posited the show worked because while it was a show about Latinas, it drew a mass audience because “every woman in America feels that way.”¹⁴ Assuming he meant every woman at some point feels ugly, and not Latina, this statement reveals how vital casting is to the production process. It is not just the idea of Betty as a homely character that builds an audience. Rather, it was the audience’s identification with her that made the show a success. In order for a show about Latinas in white corporate America to be green-lighted, it had to have characters who, despite their Latino-ness, can still resonate with white viewers. I use the word “despite” intentionally because, in many cases, the race and ethnicity of the characters are an afterthought in comparison to their narrative storylines.

During the session, I asked a high-level Black female network executive at ABC who moderated the panel to comment on the blindcasting innovation emerging on her network’s successful series such as Grey’s Anatomy. She replied: “We have an initiative at Touchstone and ABC to strive for diversity in front of and behind the camera.” I asked her to clarify if she was suggesting this innovation was a strategy across the board with their primetime dramas and she responded: “Yes, we want to be diverse for all programs including Grey’s, Lost, and Desperate Housewives.”¹⁵ The executive’s quote is both typical and frustrating because she gave me the network’s diversity statement specifically memorized for questions like mine. Nevertheless, her avoidance of the word “blindcasting,” which was a buzzword her network circulated in the popular press as opposed to the more common word “diversity,” struck me as odd, especially given the paradox of these two words when put in dialogue with one another. What I mean by paradox is that ultimately, to be diverse means intentionally seeing racial difference while blindcasting literally means not to see race. How can these two notions be in place at the same time?

I believe that in the minds of television executives like that panel’s moderator and network casting directors, these two concepts have a synergistic relationship that will result in one leading to the other. It recalls the belief around blindcasting that each actor selected will be the best person for the role and somehow the diversity issues will organically work themselves out as a result of good casting choices. Put simply, like the supposedly invisible hand guiding the economic structure in a free market, blindcasting serves as an invisible guide to selecting the best actors who will naturally reflect the diversity of the United States in terms of racial difference.

Later that afternoon, I attended the Friday Night Lights (FNL, NBC, 2006–2011) panel as a networking opportunity to connect...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Table of Contents
• Preface or What Happens After Killing the [Colorblind] Messenger
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• 1 Casting as Cultural Production
• 2 “I’m glad no one was hung up on the race thing”: Grey’s Anatomy and the Innovation of Blindcasting in a Post-Racial Era
• 3 “It’s Tough Being Different”: The Pitfalls of Colorblindness in The CW’s The Vampire Diaries
• 4 Is There Hope? Alternatives to Colorblind Casting
• Conclusion: Not Quite Catching Shadows
• Bibliography
• Index