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Firefly fans: In
the Firefly episode "Jaynestown," the crew of the spaceship
Serenity travel to an
unnamed planet's factory settlement named Canton, where indentured servants
called "Mudders" harvest a special ceramic-making mud for their
master, the malevolent local magistrate. These deluded serfs worship Firefly character Jayne Cobb as a Robin Hood like "Hero
of Canton," because years earlier he accidentally dropped a stash
of stolen money on their settlement. Indulging himself in their adoration,
dim-witted Jayne attempts to deliver a motivating speech to his flock,
"Far as I see it, You people have been
given the shortest end of a stick ever offered a human soul in this crap-heel
'verse... But you took that end, and you, you know... Well... You took
it. And that's... I guess that's somethin'." Later, after Jayne's
ruse is exposed, a bullet meant for Jayne kills one of his adolescent
devotees. At the episode's end Jayne asks Captain Malcolm Reynolds why
the boy did it. Mal replies, "Ain't about you, Jayne. 'Bout what
they need."
[1]
In many ways,
the fans of Firefly
are a lot like Jayne's Mudders. They feel oppressed by the media industry that
cancelled their television show. They worship series creator Joss Whedon with
similar blind loyalty. And like the Mudders, the Firefly fans' behavior isn't about Whedon's
greatness. It's about what they need, in this case cultural and economic
privilege. Firefly
fans took the short stick they were given when the series was cancelled, and
while their community is partially responsible for the motion picture sequel Serenity, their needs are still unmet. It's
not uncommon for science fiction to reflect certain aspects of society's
current problems. We've already seen it pose questions about race, capitalism,
freedom, gender, identity and civil liberties. However, it is definitely
unusual for an audience to take these analogies and then concretely try to
transform their problems by challenging the dominant power structure that
actually produces their science fiction entertainment. In Joss Whedon's future Firefly universe, "Nothing has changed. We have the
same problems."[2] Firefly and its feature film sequel Serenity aren't just dystopian reflections of our world
today. Analyzing this fan audience reveals a deeper metaphor than that of
"Jaynestown". This essay argues that Firefly fans are different from other science fiction fan
audiences because they gained economic power; alongside the usual kinds of
clannish cultural power fans gain through their productions. Some of the television
show's metaphors were fairly overt in their initial presentation. The Blue Sun
Corporation is oppressively controlling humanity through a melding of consumer
capitalism and government, clearly analogous of the growing connection between
corporate business and national politics. The main characters are a ragtag crew
of pioneers that operate on the fringes of the civilized universe, meant to
represent the show's creators, breaking new ground in generic world of serialized
television. But the metaphors of
struggle that rose to the surface after Firefly's cancellation from the FOX television channel are
the ones that are especially evident in the fan's reception and interpretation
of the program. Fans of the show now equate FOX with The Alliance, the central
authoritarian government that ignores the fringe colonies in favor of a faux
utopia reserved for its upper class. "It was like we lost to The
Alliance," said cast members Alan Tudyk and Nathan Fillion, "The metaphor
was too sweet to ignore."[3] Even the show's creators view FOX as a
bureaucratic evil empire that oppresses them and their fans. Most importantly, the fans
now identify with this oppression and have named themselves after the fictional
Browncoats, the losing independent army that tried to rise up against the
Alliance, only to be decimated at the Battle of Serenity. Two of the main
characters, Malcom Reynolds and Zoe Washburne, are veteran Browncoats and
survivors of The Battle of Serenity. Every episode, they struggle to adjust to
a universe where their revolution failed. Here in the real world, The Battle of
Serenity now represents the fan's loss of the Firefly television series, while the Serenity movie has come to symbolize hope and empowerment.
Fan Luke Piotrowski explains why fans appropriated the term
"Browncoat" for their community, "Browncoats is not just a cute
name, because that's what they called the people on the show. I mean that's who
we are. We're the people who lost, and we're the people who were brothers in
arms when the cancellation came down."[4] These fans see themselves as losers in a conflict
against the power of corporate media entertainment. They don't envision their
fandom as being a passive community, but more like a fan militia, working
together to retaliate for the cancellation of Firefly. The David and Goliath allegory that Firefly fans gained economic power over corporate media is
partially true. Their community's activity did get Serenity made, but only because it supported the industry's
cultural economy the fans' need for cultural power is still unmet. This essay examines a
subset of Firefly
fans—mostly from the documentary Done The Impossible: The Fans' Tale
of Firefly & Serenity—to
confirm several premises. First, by using Henry Jenkins' model of fandom, Firefly's audience will be defined as a community that
actively receives and re-interprets the program into cultural productions.
Jenkins' breakthrough work in Textual Poachers categorized science fiction fans in a particular
way. They are active, artistic and intellectually critical.[5] Next, when we look at how
fans re-interpret Firefly, the power they gained will become clear,
specifically how their power led to the production of a major motion picture.
These fans had what Janice Radway calls a "utopian moment," where the
text they love addresses unmet needs that contemporary society alone couldn't
fulfill.[6] Firefly and its fan community fill the gaps, between a television show and its
motion picture sequel. But they also fill the gaps of social and economic
privilege between television viewers and producers. Finally, analyzing Firefly
reveals another similarity to
Radway's study of romance fiction. It suggests that the despite the fans'
resistance, they are also active agents in maintaining the ideological status
quo. In the end, they actually support these institutions and are reintegrated
into them. Their poaching from Firefly's text is not what gave them the power to get Serenity made. It was their mass purchasing and their
guerilla marketing. This poses a problem for Jenkins' model. Their economic
activity falls under his typical fandom behaviors but it doesn't trespass on
corporate media's property to rescue the story, as his "poaching"
terminology suggests. Firefly fans
seem perfectly content to let Universal Studios continue the story for them. To
continue the "sweet metaphor," the Browncoats are supporting the
Alliance, and only have illusions about their revolution against big business. In Serenity the characters realize their illusions of power
and take action against their oppressors when they discover the secret history
of a planet named Miranda, where the Alliance killed an entire world's
population by chemically inducing them into passivity. For Firefly fans to continue their struggle for power, they
need a similar realization, where Serenity is as much a metaphor for their lives as Firefly was.
Examining how this group of displaced television viewers came together in the
first place is a good place to start. The Browncoat World of Reception, Interpretation,
Art and Social Interaction Henry Jenkins' precise
model of fandom is useful for examining cultural production and its effects.
Taking his initial work in Textual Poachers a step further, Jenkins defines fandom as 1) adopting a
distinctive mode of reception, 2) constituting a particular interpretative
community, 3) constituting a particular art world and 4) constituting an
alternative social community.[7] By poaching from their admired text, fan audiences
create an entire subculture with its own artifacts and aesthetics. Examining
what they produce (fan fiction, costumes, documentaries, etc.) and how these
products are distributed lends some insight into social behavior of these
communities. Fan communities often exhibit cues from the ideology present in
contemporary culture and reveal the dominant power that is hidden there and
unconsciously ignored. As Jenkins suggests, Firefly's fans have a distinct mode of watching the show,
one that divides them from the casual viewer. Joss Whedon was already
considered an icon in the general science fiction/fantasy community when he
began work on Firefly. His
popularity from creating the television series Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its spin-off Angel almost guaranteed a loyal audience, one that viewed
Firefly carefully and
critically, and regarded Whedon as a television auteur. But despite his
inherent fan base's opinion, FOX decided Whedon's particular vision for Firefly wasn't genius enough to sell well. When it first aired
in 2002, FOX broadcast Firefly
out of its intended order.[8] The network discarded the original two-hour pilot
in favor of a last minute makeshift episode called "The Train Job".
The pilot actually didn't air until after several other episodes. Whedon and
fans agree that this disoriented viewers of the show, who were never sure when
the story was taking place. This especially threw off sequential continuity,
something sci-fi fans cherish deeply. To compensate for this, fans created a website called "The
Firefly Immediate Assistance Program" that detailed the order the episodes
were originally supposed to be in.[9] They guided one another in what the canonical
reception of the program was supposed to be, despite the network's
non-sequential broadcasts. "When it looked like the show could be in
trouble, the fans organized through message boards," said webmaster Jeremy
Neish.[10] Fans gave each other information on how to watch,
and how to support the show. They viewed faithfully, as best they could with
FOX's erratic scheduling. Fan James Hazlerig said, "I made sure to watch
it every time I could. But I had the same experience everybody did. 'Did I miss
something? I'm going to buy the DVD of this if they bring it.'"[11] Even though there weren't DVDs or re-runs yet
available, the fans still watched repeatedly. "Why am I not taping
this?" said fan Betsy Johnson, "I need to be taping this so I can see
them again!"[12] FOX's interference with Whedon's creative
intentions actually galvanized the Firefly fans, promoting their shared activity. This immediately set the Firefly fans apart from being a passive viewing community,
encouraging them toward the more active militia identity they later assumed in
opposition to FOX. When the show was
cancelled in December of 2002, only eleven episodes had been aired. The
creators tried to take it to different venues for distribution: other networks,
TV movies and even direct to DVD episodes. With no luck, it appeared that the
show was over, and the set was torn down. Fans however, continued to organize
and promote the show. A letter writing campaign pled with FOX not to
cancel. A similar campaign
implored the UPN network to pick up Firefly.[13] Fans actively took time and spent money to
continue their serialized entertainment. They even pooled together enough money
to finance an advertisement in a December issue of Daily Variety, thanking the creators and listing all of the
sponsors who had run television advertisements during Firefly's short run.[14] This demonstrates a
noteworthy involvement of a television audience, attempting to control the way
they received their entertainment. Some science fiction television programs
such as Dark Angel, Surface and
even Whedon's own Angel have
received similar support, but not after only eleven episodes.[15] And none have come back like Firefly eventually did. Despite its cancellation, fans not
only organized to resuscitate the program, but they also actively promoted it
and its advertisers to people who had never watched it before. Their reception
doesn't occur in isolation; they watch together and they watch repeatedly.
Uniquely, Firefly's audience
tried to expand, to convert the uninitiated long after the program's short run
had ended. Firefly fans made a conscious selection to fight for that
program instead of any of the others cancelled that season. One self-professed
"Browncoat" fan named Chuck Evans said: People
these days seem to work a long time. We have a 10-hour day at workÉ we have a
hour commute in, a hour commute outÉ We try to sleep eight hours. That never
happens. You come home. You do supper. You take care of homework with children
and then all of a sudden you find yourself with an hour or two of time to look
at some TV and get some entertainment and let go of the day. And we choose that
time carefully. So it was a big loss to usÉ when we heard it was going to be
cancelled.[16] Evans' depiction of the
average American's television viewing experience gives us a glimpse at the need
this audience tries to fulfill with their organized viewing. Their reception
can be characterized in emotional gains and losses, which are quantified by
maximizing the "profit" of their viewing. Evans shows just how
careful Browncoat television viewers are. They value that entertainment time
and want to get the most out of their escape experience by prudently evaluating
what is worth their attention. This typifies John Fiske's
theory of a "shadow cultural economy" within fandom, where fans earn
and spend cultural capital in their reception, mimicking the official cultural
economy of the media industry.[17] Pierre Bourdieu developed the concept of cultural
economy, in which cultural capital (that of art and academia) works together
with economic capital (that of business) to produce social privilege.[18] Fiske believes that the activity of fans works
outside of this, generating semiotic meaning that is only recognized with the
microcosms of fandom. Typically, fans don't earn economic capital in this
activity.[19] Except that Firefly fans are not like other fan groups in their strategies.
They reproduce the structure (in this case capitalism) of the institutions in
official media culture, but they popularize it so they can maintain control.
Their dividends are mostly cultural, like Evans' careful viewing. Another
example comes from the ways they earn the esteem of their peers, as we will see
in Firefly fan productions. Firefly fans' profit maximizing often benefits from
communication with the creators of the show. One fan mentions the creator's
hands-on involvement with the audience as important to his viewing experience:
"They do interact with us and they do respond to what we have to
say."[20] Just before the cancellation, the cast and Whedon
made themselves accessible to the audience through the original Firefly message board, posting messages and interacting
with the fans about the show.[21] With Firefly the fan's reception was not just shaped by the input of other fans
but also by the producers of the program. This validation further endeared the
show to its already devoted fans. When the Firefly DVD box set was released in 2003, it further
propagated the unique reception of the fan experience. The DVD's episode
arrangement was specifically made in the order that the episodes were
originally intended to air and included three episodes FOX never broadcasted.
Fans were now viewing the entire season as an opus to discuss and examine
together. In July, the DVD's pre-order sales were number two on Amazon.com, and
when it was released in September it shot to number one.[22] Jahmal O'Neil describes his fan reaction when the
DVD was released, "When it came out on DVDÉ I didn't even think about it
or hesitate. I didn't think about any kind of money that I owed, bills or
anythingÉ" For two months the sales of Firefly kept it in Amazon's top twenty releases.[23] "It's pretty much the
only Christmas present we gave last year," said Jana Tichenor, "We
gave everybody we knew Firefly
disc sets."[24] The fans were not just buying sets for themselves;
they were buying DVDs as gifts or as loaner sets to further increase their
base. "I have purchased seventy or eighty box sets of Firefly, some of them at cost, but a lot of them I've just
given away," said Jeremy Neish.[25] Even celebrated science fiction author Orson Scott
card got in on the fan distribution. "I hand give it away," he
admits, "I force people to watch it."[26] Not only was the DVD a new viewing experience, but
the fan audience also became a marketing machine for the network that had
slighted them. "We do silly things, like go into stores and make sure Firefly is prominently displayed on the shelf," says
Browncoat Brian Wiser, "And we make sure to move it so it's right in front
and everyone can see it."[27] The audience was consciously proving it was a
reliable mass of self-managing consumers, many with the hope that FOX would
take notice of their buying numbers and renew the show. Jenkins' model also
suggests that fan interpretation occurs in organized and institutional
settings. This often takes place on the Internet, via chat rooms or message
boards. The Browncoats certainly fit that description with the emergence of The
Firefly Immediate Assistance Program site and its protocols for viewing Firefly. Other settings include the massive fan presence
and cast interaction on the Official Firefly message board (now wistfully
referred to as "The O.B." by senior Browncoats), and the
fireflyfans.net site that went up before the first episode of the show was even
filmed. Since the cancellation of the program, numerous other sites have gone
live, forming a massive global network where fan interpretations are
negotiated.[28] In an institutional fashion, certain sites hold a
higher ranking with the fans in terms of how meaning is generated from beyond
the actual television episodes. These sites serve a host
of functions, but primarily they're for fans to discuss and construe the
semiotic meanings of scenes from Firefly and its related texts. A canon is established through a dialectical
process that often includes the producers of the show. Members of the cast
participate in threads pertaining to speculation about the characters they
portray. Actors Nathan Fillion and Adam Baldwin even describe themselves as
fans, another unique feature to the Browncoat fan audience, where the line
between fan and producer has become slightly blurred.[29] Because of its early cancellation, both the fans
and the cast felt a lack of closure with Whedon's fictional universe. As such,
characters' motivations and traits are often debated and challenged by the
group, with high standards. On the Firefly message board at Television Without Pity, a thread
about Captain Malcom Reynolds elicited the following exchange, scrutinizing his
leadership skills: "Don't get me wrong - he's
incredibly flawed and his decisions are often made with a black and white
vision that exists only in a world of greys. But that's what makes him
appealing, because he is, in effect, Everyman, who has been shoved into a role
for which he didn't audition and must function as necessary." This
is followed by a response, "I think that's what
makes him appealing as a character and explains why people do follow him, but
still it doesn't mean people should follow him." Another post states:
"He also never really plans, he's a reactor. Yes, it's good of him to
protect Simon and River, but he didn't initially make the choice. It's forced
on him by Simon. And he leaves them in 'Safe' and then changes his mind."[30] This demonstrates the
level of discourse and thinking going on between fans. They are constantly
interpreting and negotiating the story between the lines of the television
episodes. Their expectations raise a high-bar for their criticisms and
theories. Cast member Adam Baldwin describes his first online interaction with
fans, "I was intrigued by the level of intellect with the fan base."[31] And fan Rosie Leon says, "For me, a
Browncoat, is someone that's really smart."[32] Firefly fans see themselves as more cerebral and discerning than the average
television viewer, and the established message boards expect a mature dialogue
from their members. For instance, fireflyfans.net actually has a section on
their forums called "Troll Country" where administrators send
internet trolls (someone who enters an established internet community and whose
communications there are disruptive or inappropriate) to if their posts don't
meet the expected level of discussion.[33] Along with the institution
of web boards, Firefly fans now
interpret the program through mp3 podcasting. At the time of this writing there
are seven podcasts related to the show that are distributed through the iTunes
music store. As with the plethora of message boards, there is an established
hierarchy with these productions, headed by The Signal podcast. The Signal
contributes to the interpretation community by including features that speculate
on the history of the fictional Firefly universe, analyzing the narrative structures of particular episodes,
establishing a "technical manual" for the Serenity spaceship, and
even examining the style of dance found in the show. [34] Such broadcasted conversations
not only reinforce the global fan community's negotiation for meaning, but also
further demonstrate that this community is not a collective where all voices
are equal. The merits of an interpretation are often construed by fans through
the value of the time and money they have invested in their interpretation. In
the case of a podcast, the medium and the work that goes into each episode
delivers a higher status for the producers' opinions and their interpretations.
As with their careful television viewing, Browncoats discriminate and evaluate
among the transmitted avenues for interpretation between themselves. Their
discourse is not a concordance, but an incongruous debate for the conclusive
meaning that corporate media denied them. Here again Fiske's theory of fandom's
cultural economy applies. He calls this behavior "semiotic
productivity," where fans make meaning of their social identities and
experiences, translating them into social empowerment.[35] Fans gain cultural capital outside of the dominant
official culture, but they still appropriate the behaviors of the dominant
culture to which they are opposed.[36] One of the things that make Firefly fans different from other fan groups is that they
appropriated these behaviors to accumulate shadow cultural capital and official economic capital. Ultimately, this is why
Serenity was produced, because
they played within the cultural economy that big business recognized. Message boards and
podcasts have led to another, more intimate form of interpretative
communication with local meet-ups, or what Browncoats refer to as "Shin
Digs." These events serve the purpose of providing a physical space for
fans to engage in interpretative conversations in person. In some cases, Shin
Digs also provide a context for addressing the needs of fans that aren't
fulfilled through just watching the show receptively or discussing it online.
They provide an adopted family for the audience and give them an individual
social interaction that Browncoats seem to crave. Shin Digs can bypass the
faceless hierarchy of the Internet's interpretative debate and allow fans to
come together in a more accommodating fashion. Here at least, the fans take
precedence to their interpretations. At the 2006 Atlanta
science fiction convention Dragon Con, fans organized an evening Shin Dig
costume party, as well as several panels within a Firefly specific track to discuss the meaning of the plot
in the Serenity movie and the
fan created documentary Done The Impossible. Actors from the film and the producers of the
documentary were available for question and answer sessions with the fans.
Browncoats established further meanings through this public interaction, and
continue to do so with every subsequent Shin Dig. The fan community doesn't
limit itself to interpretation of only the original text, but it also
interrogates and examines the creators of fan-generated artifacts (like the
documentary), dispersing importance between the original creators of the show
and its own fan membership. The Browncoats weigh the
merits of every piece that goes into the Firefly art world and ascribe aesthetic value to them.
These works are available online and at conventions like Dragon Con. Artist
Jason Palmer airbrushes large, realistically detailed paintings of the characters,
which he sells prints of.[37] The Bedlam Bards are a filk (fan-folk) music group
that recorded an entire album of Firefly inspired songs.[38] Susan ReneŽ Tomb, known to Browncoats as
"11th Hour," is a graphic artist who created posters and banners for
fans and designed artwork in the Serenity role-playing game.[39] Abbyshot Clothiers design and sell Firefly themed garments like the suede western frock coats
that the name "Browncoats" came from.[40] Fans take the raw materials from the show's
dialogue, sets and costumes, and they produce many screen-printed t-shirts,
plastic replicas of the character's unique guns, and even specialty Firefly shot glasses. Goofy wool ski
caps—re-producing one from the episode "The Message"[41]—are actually worn as an esoteric badge of
fandom. Someone outside of the Firefly fan audience would never recognize these caps as a symbol of
fellowship, but for the fans such artifactual communication can lead to meeting
new fans of Firefly and
broadening their fan community. These are new cultural creations, appropriated
by fans into their unique customs and part of their semiotic production of
meaning and social identity. When the television show
went off the air and there was little hope of a continuation, fans invented new
creations to sustain their community. They filled the space that the television
show occupied with drawings of the characters, fan fiction of their off-screen
adventures and Firefly themed
filk music all contributed to filling the gap. James Hazlerig, one of the filk
musicians from the "Bedlam Bards" comments on his songs contributing
to the storytelling. He believes they help him to get into the character's
heads.[42] Instead of Joss Whedon writing a story that
progressed the characters and displayed more of their emotions and
personalities, Hazlerig and other like him are doing it themselves. "It
lets me answer the 'what if' questions," says Firefly fan fiction writer Julie Frost, "You get these
ideas of what would happen. For instance, if Kaylee brought a kitten aboard Serenity and everybody tried to hide it from Mal because he
has a no pets policy."[43] Frost and other fan fiction writers filled the gap
in Firefly stories between the
television series and the movie. Fans Jamie Chambers,
Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman and Laura Hickman also created a complex Serenity based role-playing game system to continue their
participation in the storytelling. Eventually Whedon and the movie studio chose
this system to represent the series officially. When asked about the Firefly fan art world, Whedon himself says that, "The
art is greater than the sum of its parts."[44] Each piece contributes to the fan experience and
the overall story they want to keep alive. With the aura of the original show
unavailable, the fans generated an originality of their own, while still
relating its essence to the mass-produced show that created their global
community[45]. As mentioned before, a
documentary about the fan experience from Firefly to Serenity was produced in 2006. This product turns the inspiration for the
fans' creativity from Firefly
to the Browncoat community. Now their fandom has gone beyond interpreting and
evaluating their entertainment. With the documentary, fans understand their
community as having its own narrative and aesthetic value. The Browncoats
aren't just passive viewers or consumers; they participate in the ongoing saga
of both their fictional heroes and their own experience by distributing their
art within the fan-established network of cooperation and exhibition. They have
become aware of themselves as an alternative social community, Jenkins' final
criteria for fandom. Adam Baldwin's narration
on Done The Impossible: The Fans' Tale of Firefly & Serenity describes the fans' community experience: "The
Words 'Serenity & Firefly' have come to symbolize community & family
and the conviction that the impossible can be accomplished."[46] This statement brings us back to the sweet
metaphor that both the cast and fans adhere to. Fans relate to the characters
on the show through more than just their similar sense of oppression and
defeat; the Browncoats also find a positive role model for their personal
community. In the TV show, the crew of the spaceship Serenity is a chosen, adopted family. Browncoats duplicate
that with their choice to participate in a structured substitute for regular
social standards. This decision brings them together like a family and
reconstructs their identities within it. "We're all on board it (Serenity)," says fan Luke Piotrowski, "And we're
ready to get on and try and keep flying."[47] Through the shared sense of identity developed by
this "family," Browncoats have formed their alternative social
community. Jenkins' model speculates
that fans are just exhibiting a common human facet when they participate in a
community that allows them to adopt a new identity that is no longer isolated
and alienated.[48] The Firefly fans' behavior confirms this. They get together virtually and
physically. We've already seen how through their message boards, the fans
desire a corresponding bond with people of similar intellect. But they meet in
person, too. Their Shin Digs are monthly. "Maybe we'll meet at someone's
house and cook fajitas and watch some episodes," says Jeremy Neish,
"Or we'll meet at a library and talk or a bookstore. It's just an excuse
for fans to get together and talk about what we love."[49] Rosie Leon describes Shin Digs as "a family
reunion of people you haven't met yet."[50] A Browncoat code-named "Beanie" says
that at her first Shin Dig she "got all these hugs from people I'd never
seen face to face before."[51] Firefly fans are meeting physically in a frequent, scheduled and structured
manner. They function as an intimate family, based not on blood relations, but
on their relation to the shared text of a TV show. Their meetings are not just
small, isolated, local occurrences. Every year fans attend massive conventions
like Dragon Con in Atlanta or Comic Con in San Diego. At Dragon Con 2006,
hundreds of people attended the Firefly Shin Dig and a faux wake for the fictional characters that died in
the Serenity movie. Browncoats
dance, sing, love and mourn together. Whedon describes the positive benefit of
their community by saying, "The unity they get from the show and from each
other brings out the best in them."[52] At their physical
meetings, the Browncoats maintain the identities they have adopted over the
internet. "You meet with Browncoats and most the time you just know their
screen name," says fan Betsie Slusarski, who goes by "Betsylu"
in the community, "You walk around calling people things like Cavewitch,
Pip and 11th."[53] Their identities are defined by their new family
and their common relationship with the texts of Firefly and Serenity. Browncoat Rosie Leon says she is comforted by, "Being with
people that got it, that felt exactly the same wayÉ Browncoats are all kind,
smart, generous people."[54] Fans share identifications with the text and its
characters. One man interviewed in Done The Impossible: The Fans' Tale of
Firefly & Serenity is in a
wheelchair and because of his disability he drives a big handicap accessible
van. He says he identifies with Serenity's pilot Wash because of this. A female airplane mechanic identifies
with Kaylee because she's Serenity's engineer. "Each
person on the ship has a reason for being there, and everybody can find someone
they can identify with," says Browncoat Arielle Ksweder.[55] This identification even leads to romance and
sometimes marriage. Several fans in the documentary admit that they met their significant others
through the Browncoat community. Actor Nathan Fillion actually presided over
the engagement of two Browncoats during a cast Q&A panel at a science
fiction convention one year.[56] Fans can share their deep identifications in this
community's space in a way normal society doesn't usually allow them. To maintain the
consolation they get from being a community, Jenkins says fans construct social
tenets that are more accepting of individual difference. Browncoats demonstrate
this as well. "Right wing, left wing, old & young," says fan Sue
Regonini, "There is no stereotype in this group."[57] The fans seen in Done The Impossible: The Fans'
Tale of Firefly & Serenity constitute
marginalized groups such as women, African Americans and the handicapped.
Whether this utopian view is true or not, Browncoats say their only
prerequisite for membership is their fandom. They are even accepting of fans
from other science fiction communities. "I used to be a Klingon,"
admits Regonini, referencing the fans of Star Trek that costume and perform as the aggressive aliens
called Klingons, "It's where I met my husband. It made us powerful, it
made us mighty."[58] Her statement assumes that while
"Klingons" may have possessed might in their faux warrior personas,
Browncoats substitute that kind of strength with a tolerant and loving family
atmosphere. Regonini demonstrates another of Jenkins' theories; fans can move
within fandom itself, between the texts. Regonini's statements
indicate that Browncoats' first allegiance is to their community and their
adopted family. In fact, some
of the Browncoats' productions exist not only to interpret Firefly but also to build and maintain this adopted
family. Shin Digs require time, money and patience to organize. Fans buy
elaborate costumes and weapons to be appreciated at these events above any
other place or time. Finally, the mass purchasing and giving of DVD sets
continues to build a larger fan base to interact with, as much as it allows
fans to interpret the episodes together. It is within these kinds
of behaviors that Browncoats gained the economic power to demand Firefly's story be continued. The media industry's attention
was drawn when the community wasn't insular with its fandom and did everything
it could to incorporate new fans. When the Browncoats started raising money for
advertisements in magazines, for production costs to keep the show running and
finally for charity organizations, the producers at Universal Studios saw an
opportunity to tap into that fund raising mechanism. For the first time a fan
group was recognized for its economic capital, in the official cultural
economy. As we will see, within that official cultural economy the film
industry has more cultural and economic capital than the television industry
does. The Browncoats actually catapulted Firefly into another cultural stratum—one with more
inherent capital value—when it was originally considered a failed
production to the industry that created it. This is what makes these fans
different from other science fiction fan audiences. Browncoats clearly fit all
of Jenkins' required levels. Using his model we can define them as fans. They
are active, creative and critical with both the Firefly text and their own community. The examples of how
they fit Jenkins' categories give a flicker of insight into the needs
Browncoats have. Now their needs can be reviewed, by looking at the ways in
which they addressed them. "We've done the impossible and that makes
us mighty" On the Serenity DVD, Joss Whedon introduces the movie by
congratulating the fans with the proclamation, "We've done the impossible
and that makes us mighty."[59] Both the cast and the fans regard the making of Serenity as a defining moment for the Browncoat community.
It is this event that isolates Browncoats from other fan groups. The fans of a text
were responsible for the official production of new texts. This production
occurred in an industry with more inherent cultural capital than Firefly's previous medium. Janice Radway's work in
studying the readers of romance literature speaks to this kind of power lying
within fan communities. She theorizes that there is a stage in the process of
receiving a text, where a "utopian moment" projects a fantasy of what
the world would be like if the audience's needs were fulfilled. This moment is
almost always critical of the social order that generated the product to begin
with.[60] For instance, Star Trek's utopian moment showed an acceptance of diversity
when the starship Enterprise
had a crew of African-Americans, Russians, Japanese and even alien beings working
together. In romance novels, Radway argues the utopian moment is an ideal
marital relationship, confronting patriarchal ideology. In Firefly the utopian moment for the Browncoat fans is a
universe where a totalitarian dystopia can be challenged by a small group of
failures that have nothing but their own adopted family to rely on. Radway
theorized that fan groups might go beyond their escapism and take the
oppositional stances of their text into practical action. The Browncoats prove
her theory true. While Firefly
provides a fictional space where fans can fantasize about defying a merger of
corporate and political authority, the Browncoats created their own spaces
(virtual and physical) to challenge the social and economic privilege of the
FOX Broadcasting Company. "It was like a
lightning rod for our frustration with television and pop culture in general
appealing to the lowest common denominator," says a Browncoat going by the
name Amy L33, "It was like 'No!' This was the one place at which to take a
stand."[61] Fans didn't just sign petitions. They contributed
money and time into trying to save Firefly. They bought the DVDs, put ads in magazines and created an online
guerilla-marketing machine. These activities were described before as part of
their unique reception of the show, but they also demonstrate the beginnings of
the Browncoats earning economic capital in the official cultural economy. When they couldn't save
the show, they kept going, directing their energy into charities for causes
like Equality Now!, raising over $12,000 for the non-profit organization.[62] Browncoats acted first against the industry
oppressing the texts that originally united them. Next they acted against the
oppression of women's rights across the world. Their oppositional stance wasn't
just about getting "me time" away from their dissatisfaction with
everyday life. Firefly became a
clarion call to challenge the official culture of American entertainment, and
eventually even human rights violations across the world. When Universal Studios
bought the rights to Firefly in
2004 and announced they were producing a feature film out of the franchise, the
Browncoats rallied behind them immediately. They began guerilla marketing the
film at conventions and on web sites. "On a lot of levels the fan's
involvement has helped," says Whedon, "First of all, Universal has a
bottom line and the fact that the DVD sales were huge and that they would come
and see booths (at conventions) and be like, 'They're advertising for a movie
we haven't made yet!" excited them very much."[63] Many Browncoats answered casting calls and flew to
California to be extras in the movie.[64] They weren't content to simply receive the text;
they wanted to be part of its production. One Browncoat was even reported to be
stamping the Serenity logo on
all the one-dollar bills in the cash register at the restaurant she owned, so
that people using the money would see it.[65] This last example completely embodies how
Browncoats embraced economic capital instead of the usual cultural capital of
fandom to establish social privilege. Continuing their rally for Equality Now!, Browncoats across
America organized viewing events of Serenity as fundraisers. In 2006, Browncoats raised $65,000
at events in 47 different cities.[66] They continue their oppositional action for human
rights, uniting themselves for a cause outside of their shared texts. The
interests of their alternative social community have begun to move away from
the power struggles between big media and its consumers, and toward social
injustices with broader consequences. This charity may show an altruism that
runs in spirit with Firefly's
Robin Hood outlaw type characters, but outside of that reflection it is more
about their larger desire to change the world. |