The antihero prevails in recent American drama television series. Characters such as mobster kingpin Tony Soprano, meth cook and gangster-in-the-making Walter White and serial killer Dexter Morgan are not morally good, so how do these television series make us engage in these morally bad main characters? And what does this tell us about our moral psychological make-up, and more specifically, about the moral psychology of fiction? Vaage argues that the fictional status of these series deactivates rational, deliberate moral evaluation, (...) making the spectator rely on moral emotions and intuitions that are relatively easy to manipulate with narrative strategies. Nevertheless, she also argues that these series regularly encourage reactivation of deliberate, moral evaluation. In so doing, these fictional series can teach us something about ourselves as moral beings—what our moral intuitions and emotions are, and how these might differ from deliberate, moral evaluation. (shrink)

In Ancient Greece, the figure of the hero was identified as a demigod, possessed of altruistic and virtuous deeds. When Pierre de Coubertin reinstated the Olympic Games, the athlete was personified as a modern hero. Its antithesis, the anti-hero, has more virtue that defects, no evil but he does not care on the means to achieve his goals. In the eyes of everyone involved in sports competition, these characters captivate and at the same time, create conflicts of ethics and aesthetics. (...) The purpose of this paper is to perform an ethical reflection linked to principles that contribute for the human growth and accomplishment, as well as the aesthetic on the perception of the sensitive, reverberated by sensations and feelings emerging from athletes. Connecting the ethic with the aesthetic spheres, we could have in the sports a phenomenon walking toward a common point between moral and aesthetic, between the good and the beauty. (shrink)

En 1919, la même année où Jean Giraudoux fait son « Adieu à la guerre », il écrit « Les morts d’Elpénor ». En 1926, à côté de trois autres histoires, ce texte intégrera le corps d’Elpénor, déterminant l’ensemble, une collection de quatre textes écrits pendant dix-huit ans, le premier étant « Cyclope », écrit en 1908 ; le deuxième, « Sirènes », en 1912 ; le troisième en 1919 ; et le dernier en 1926, « Les nouvelles morts d’Elpénor (...) ». Quand « Cyclope » et « Sirènes » sortent respectivement chez Le Matin en 1908 et chez Paris-Journal en 1912 aucun d’entre eux ne mentionne Elpénor. Bref, c’est avec le développement des deux dernières histoires, que Elpénor, cette figure effacée chez Homère et absente dans les deux premiers textes de Giraudoux, vole la vedette. Cet article voudrait montrer comment la mise à jour du héros et de ses histoires est en dialogue avec la guerre vécue par l’auteur, pour proposer comment les vieilles histoires, lorsqu’elles sont renouvelées, participent à un processus qui leur permet d’élaborer les défis du présent, communiquant le présent, à travers un code déjà public, l’Odyssée. (shrink)

In 1919, the same year that Jean Giraudoux made his “Adieu à la guerre” [“Farewell to the war”], he wrote “Les morts d'Elpénor” [“The deaths of Elpenor”]. In 1926, alongside three other stories, this text would integrate the book _Elpénor _[_Elpenor_], determining this collection of four texts written for eighteen years, the first being “Cyclope” [“Cyclops”], written in 1908; the second “Sirènes” [“Sirens”], in 1912; the third already mentioned in 1919; and the last in 1926, “Les nouvelles morts d'Elpénor” [“The (...) new deaths of Elpenor”]. When “Cyclops” and “Sirens” were released respectively by Le Matin in 1908 and Paris-Journal in 1912, none of them mentioned Elpenor. In short, it is with the development of the last two stories that Elpenor, this erased character in Homer who is absent in the first Giraudoux's texts as well, steals the spotlight. This article analyzes how the updating of the hero and his stories are in dialogue with the war experienced by the author, thus proposing that old stories, when renewed, participate in a process that allows them to elaborate the challenges of the present, communicating the present through an already known code, which is the _Odyssey_. (shrink)

Affective disposition theory explains well the process of enjoying hero narratives but not the appeal of narratives featuring antiheroes. Recent antihero studies suggest that character identification and moral disengagement might be important factors in the enjoyment of such fare. The current study builds on this work. A sample of 101 self-identified fans and nonfans of the television series 24 viewed a condensed version of Season 1, providing evaluation of various protagonist perceptions, moral judgments, and emotional responses to the narrative, (...) as well as overall enjoyment. As expected, fans reported greater liking of the protagonist and greater enjoyment. But more importantly, regression analyses illuminated key differences between the groups in terms of the factors predicting enjoyment, providing a clearer picture of how we enjoy antihero narratives. (shrink)

Current scholarship has focused on analyzing how Arendt's storytelling corresponds to her political arguments. In following up this discussion, I offer a closer examination of the unusual myth Arendt uses to explain the condition of the modern age, a myth she refers to as the ?political nature of history.? I employ literary terms along with the standard vocabulary of political theory in shaping this reading of Arendt. Following Robert C. Pirro, I also consider Arendt's story as a tragedy, but in (...) the broadest sense, that of a collision of two goods, freedom and security. By describing Arendt's thought in this manner, I hope to reveal another way in which Arendt represents the call to action that she believes so crucial to humanity, as a summons to we flawed antiheroes through the device of a heroic myth. (shrink)

El ensayo es una mirada revisionista del famoso artículo de James Agee “La época más grande de la comedia” –centrándose en Buster Keaton y Charlie Chaplin, “los autores de la comedia cinematográfica” de la década de 1920–. Por más que Chaplin fuese considerado el gigante de la época, la literatura del momento mostraba que Keaton no solo era considerado una figura popular, sino también más culta (cf. mi próximo libro: Buster Keaton en su propio tiempo, McFarland Press). En cambio, en (...) los estudios actuales Keaton es considerado ya en la misma categoría que Chaplin. Mientras que la comedia inspirada por Chaplin se considera por siempre intemporal, Keaton nos parece ahora que habla para el día de hoy. Al menos durante esta década, Chaplin abraza el corazón humanista emocional de un pasado al estilo de Dickens, mientras que Keaton reflexiona sobre el existencialismo cerebral de un Camus o de un Beckett. La vida es confusa, pero para Chaplin, el arte es lo que consigue enderezarla, al menos durante noventa minutos. El mensaje o el recordatorio de Keaton es que la vida es un caos… una áspera “película” que finalmente termina. O, como Kafka observó, “el significado de la vida es que termina”. Verdaderamente dos perspectivas para reflexionar. (shrink)

Los protagonistas de La ciudad y los perros (1963) están inmersos en un juego cíclico de recorrer los estados del miedo y la autoconfianza cuando ocurre una pelea; es decir, una manifestación de violencia. Por ejemplo, se demostró que el Esclavo no tuvo temor al denunciar al serrano Cava, a pesar de que sabía que el Círculo y el Jaguar podían vengarse de él; también, se probó un caso contrario, el Jaguar se arrepintió de haber asesinado (adoptó una postura disfórica (...) de culpabilidad y necesidad de cambiar). (shrink)

This article investigates the nature and appeal of morally ambiguous protagonists, or anti-heroes, through an evolutionary lens. It argues that morally ambiguous protagonists navigate conflicts between prosocial and antisocial motivational pulls. In so doing they present audiences with a window onto the conflicts inherent in human sociality. Working from this premise, the article analyzes the morally ambiguous protagonist Walter White from the TV series Breaking Bad, complementing the analysis with survey results. The article finally discusses critically the role of moral (...) disengagement in enjoyment of stories with morally ambiguous protagonists. (shrink)

From the perspective of the television series Breaking Bad (2008–2013), Walter White, its antihero, is not just an “angry middle-aged white guy”. He represents the repressed rage of countless ill-used Ph.Ds. This is why “he is the danger.” The cultural moment of Breaking Bad may serve for us in Siegfried Kracauer’s term as a “close-up shot or establishing shot.” The series is an index of Kracauer’s “law of levels.” White has lived his life according to what he thought was (...) standard and decent conduct. His life has been adequate. He echoes Tolstoy’s Ivan Ilyich whose life “was most ordinary and therefore most terrible.” White also recalls Stavrogin from Dostoevsky’s The Possessed. Stavrogin condemns himself because he can only have been satisfied by himself (in both senses). He is more Mephistopheles than Faust; he is never out of hell because he will not accept the possibility of anything outside himself. Breaking Bad also reifies Carlo Ginzburg’s “estrangement.” The screens that we carry with us transmit endless meaninglessness. We are consumed by consumerism. Therefore, Walter White is not an antihero: He is the perfect hero for a world in which the marketplace alone determines value. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Philosophy of Modern Song by Bob DylanPeter CheyneThe Philosophy of Modern Song, Bob Dylan; 422 pp. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2022.Bob Dylan, like Dante's Virgil, takes us on an odyssey through sixty-six levels, not of the Underworld but of Songworld, in The Philosophy of Modern Song. With playful prose rhythms measured for pleasure and effect, these vistas are almost all seen through second-person portrayals. His gorgeous (...) write-up on Uncle Dave Macon's "Keep My Skillet Good and Greasy" (1924), for instance, conveys the "happy wanderer, the chicken thief," embodying the flagrant aristocracy of freedom: "You're the Dalai Lama, the Black Monk … The Thief of Baghdad … prowling and shoplifting … Multiracial, bisexual, celibate … freethinking … fucking and farting … Long John Silver … a pastry chef … hash slinger" (pp. 237–38). In Dylan's telling, this great song shimmies through a Whitmanesque catalogue of types united in aesthetic thrill.Invented characters inhabit this book, as they do Dylan's songs. Most prominent are the personae he extemporizes from others' songs in barnstorming flights of fancy. Upheld by writerly performance rather than argument, they act out his view that "it's what a song makes you feel about your own life that's important" (p. 9).The standout weird turn is the antihero he conjures from Webb Pierce's "There Stands the Glass" (1953). This is a country song about alcoholic consolation after a breakup, the toper hoping his love still thinks of him, in his misery. Simple, clichéd even, but Dylan invents a backstory hell of a Vietnam vet who "doesn't recall ever having a soul" and is "betrayed by politicians back home." Standard old-drunk fare, but then comes the nightmare of having "stuck a bayonet into babies' bellies and gouged out old men's eyes," "assassinated priests," and a concatenation of sins. "He rounds up the elderly, women and children, torches their huts" (p. 21). No bar-time happy hours for him; all those become "zero hour," "surrounded by the enemy" (p. 22). Dylan still protests the empire grotesque. Following each dark dive or wild fantasia is a straighter section that zooms out to more objective viewpoints, factoids, and historical analysis."You," ubiquitous and protean. "You," Dylan's projected center of subjective meaning. "You," his device, as he brings you along to reinvent a mood and mind frame, a world for each song. A thesis on mimesis, the second-person fantasies urge the reader to identify with the original first-person narrative, then fly it sky high. Dylan maintains that a successful song sings the listener into an alternative existence, a temporary self, through imagery and rhyme. This is just what Plato warned against, and what Dylan values: the art of making the listener mimetically become, for a few timeless minutes, what the writer and performer sing into being. In the ancient tussle between philosophers and poets, Dylan holds the agora through the harp. [End Page 254]Popular song as fiction is nothing unusual, but criticism as fiction? Is this critical license in extremis or is Dylan stressing the idea that music is always subjective? According to Dylan, songs earn their wings not just in the hearing but in how far and wide hearers can take them. While Dylan fabricates characters that weren't even dreamt of by the song performers, this book is also autobiographical throughout. The commentary relates as much of himself as the records he highlights. The book sustains a mood where the host impishly swaps masks all the while (as when he reveals, in a tiny chapter, that "Long Tall Sally" [1956] is about a one-story-tall woman from the Nephilim tribe in antediluvian Samaria). On Bobby Bare's "Detroit City" (1963), he writes, "Everybody assumes you're a bigwig, that things are cool and beautiful, but they're not." Here, many readers will flash back to young Zimmerman in Greenwich Village, desperate to pull off his move to the big city, "and the disgrace of failure is overwhelming" (p. 1). Through songs by selected others, Dylan recounts Dylan.Channeling small-hour talk radio, pulp Westerns, and hardboiled prose, the bourbon-scented mood evokes... (shrink)

HOUSE AND PHILOSOPHY Is being nice overrated? Are we really just selfish, base animals crawling across Earth in a meaningless existence? Would reading less and watching more television be good for you? Is House a master of Eastern philosophy or just plain rude? Dr. Gregory House is arguably the most complex and challenging antihero in the history of television, but is there more to this self-important genius than gray matter and ego? This book takes a deeper look at House (...) to reveal the philosophical underpinnings of this popular medical drama and its cane-waving curmudgeon’s most outrageous behavior. What emerges is a remarkable character who is part Sherlock Holmes, part Socratic philosopher, part Nietzschean superman, part Taoist rhetorician, and not at all as screwed up as you might think. With everything from Aristotle to Zen, House and Philosophy takes an engaging look at everyone’s favorite misanthropic genius and his team at Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital. To learn more about the Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture series, visit www.andphilosophy.com. (shrink)

It may seem that I am simply confirming Davis’ assertion that in my view of the critical process “different interpretive strategies create completely different texts with no point of comparison” ; but the differences are not all that complete. While many readers now see a God who is more dramatically effective than Pope’s “school divine,” they still see a God who exists in a defining relationship with the figure of Satan, a Satan who is himself significantly changed from the energy-bearing (...) Byronic antihero who was for so long a “given” in the interpretive landscape. The point is, again, that changes do not occur in isolation, because the facts that have undergone change did not exist in isolation either. In the history of Milton criticism, any judgment against God is always and simultaneously a judgment for Satan ; and it follows that a reversal in one pole of the judgment cannot occur without a corresponding—that is, related—reversal in the other. Any increase in the literary “cash value” of Milton’s God will be registered at the expense of his Satan.In short, since literary judgments or observations are not made piecemeal, the process of challenging and changing them is not piecemeal either. That is why it is not “contradictory,” as Davis asserts, “to talk about recalcitrant features of a text” in the context of a thesis that makes the text’s features a function of interpretation . The source of recalcitrance or resistance is not the text as it exists independently of interpretation, but the text as an authoritative and elaborated interpretation has given it to us. I stress “elaborated” because the interpretation is not a single assertion but a complex of assertions; and when a challenge is made to the interpreted text at one point, its other points constitute a reservoir from which objections and “counterchallenges” can emerge. Thus, when someone offers a revisionist account of Milton’s God, a skeptical or unpersuaded reader will respond by observing that this account is incompatible with what we know to be true about other parts of the poem: the characterization of Satan, or of the War in Heaven, or of books 11 and 12. It is then the obligation of the revisionist critic either to demonstrate there is no incompatibility or to extend his new reading in such a way as to recharacterize those parts of the poem that seem to stand as refutations of the revisionist’s reading. He will then be working against resistance, but it will not be the resistance of something that stands outside interpretation; rather it will be the resistance offered by one interpretively produced shape to the production of another. Stanley Fish is the William Kenan, Jr., Professor of English and the Humanities at the Johns Hopkins University. His contributions to Critical Inquiry include “Working on the Chain Gang: Interpretation in the Law and in Literary Criticism” and “Profession Despise Thyself: Fear and Self-Loathing in Literary Studies”. (shrink)

This article argues that the first-person narrator and antihero of Anthony Burgess's famous dystopia is far from being the symbol for human freedom he has traditionally been taken to be. Quite the opposite, he is to be seen as a symbol for human “self-imposed nonage” at every point of the novel: from his alleged rebellion to his farewell to rape and aggression in the final chapter. All of his apparent acts of freedom are determined by the dynamic interplay of (...) biological disposition and political exploitation. Burgess's theory of freedom, however, is more sophisticated than Alex's “turnspit freedom.” It is displayed in two minor characters, F. Alexander and the prison chaplain, modelled on Burgess and his cousin the Catholic Archbishop George Dwyer, respectively, who display “political awareness” that leads to decisions based on informed judgment. (shrink)

HOUSE AND PHILOSOPHY Is being nice overrated? Are we really just selfish, base animals crawling across Earth in a meaningless existence? Would reading less and watching more television be good for you? Is House a master of Eastern philosophy or just plain rude? Dr. Gregory House is arguably the most complex and challenging antihero in the history of television, but is there more to this self-important genius than gray matter and ego? This book takes a deeper look at House (...) to reveal the philosophical underpinnings of this popular medical drama and its cane-waving curmudgeon’s most outrageous behavior. What emerges is a remarkable character who is part Sherlock Holmes, part Socratic philosopher, part Nietzschean superman, part Taoist rhetorician, and not at all as screwed up as you might think. With everything from Aristotle to Zen, House and Philosophy takes an engaging look at everyone’s favorite misanthropic genius and his team at Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital. To learn more about the Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture series, visit www.andphilosophy.com. (shrink)

“Almost every time somebody gives me a present, it ends up making me sad.”J. D. Salinger’s tale of juvenile weltschmerz, The Catcher in the Rye,1 portrays a personal psychology of youthful disillusion. Holden Caulfield, the novel’s narrator and antihero, embarks on an existential odyssey in New York City after being drummed out of his fourth private prep school for failing grades.Smart and resourceful enough when the occasion requires, Holden is disgusted with virtually everything and everyone around him. By maintaining (...) a negative attitude, he excuses himself in his own mind from doing anything potentially disappointing—it is all futile and pointless anyway. Holden thereby cultivates an attitude that prevents him.. (shrink)

Hyperreality is a key term in Jean Baudrillard’s cultural theory, designating a phase in the development of image where it “masks the absence of a profound reality.” The ambiance of Joseph Heller’s Catch-22 closely corresponds to Baudrillard’s notion of the hyperreal as images persist to precede reality in the fictional world of the novel. Since for Baudrillard each order of simulacra produces a certain mode of ideological discourse that impacts the perception of reality, it is plausible that the characters of (...) this fictional context should be ideologically impacted by the hyperreal discourse. From this vantage point it is possible to have a new critical assessment of Yossarian’s antiheroic stance and study the role of the “business of illusion,” whose ideological edifice is based on the discourse of the hyperreal, on his antiheroic stance and actions. By drawing on Baudrillard’s cultural theory this paper aims to read Heller’s novel as a postmodern allegory of rebellion against the hyperreality of the twentieth-century American life and trace its relevance to modern-day U.S. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Men Becoming Gods in "Style"Gioia and Girard on Divinized DesireJoshua Hren (bio)In our secular age we hear seekers of the sacred and religious devotees alike decry the soul-deadening, spirit-dumbing consequences of materialism. René Girard contends that—on the contrary—in the "leveled," horizontal world of a purportedly materialistic modernity this transcendent authority is deviated and distorted but it does not disappear. In his first major work, Deceit, Desire, and the Novel, (...) he argues that "the passion that drives men to seize or gain more possessions is not materialistic; it is the triumph of the mediator, the god with the human face."1 In a materialistic age, the gods are "pulled down from the heaven, the sacred flows over the earth" and men become "gods for each other."2Dana Gioia, former businessman and chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts, is no stranger to the economy of divinized desire. The stakes of our passions—whether we are wrecked by dubious wants or able to shed our infernal imitations—pierce his poetry. Gioia cites Girard as a significant influence alongside St. Augustine and Kierkegaard, though he does not indicate whether his own poetic investigations of mimesis are a direct yield of [End Page 149] his encounter with Girard or the independent discovery of attentive artistic intuition.3The refuge of lies so central to Girard is particularly palpable in Gioia's long narrative poem "Style."4 Charlie, the self-deprecating narrator, divinizes his college friend Tom, a business mogul who "prospered like one chosen by the gods."5 Tom uses his easy money to purchase gaudy metamorphoses, hosting magnificent events with his "flawless" wife Eden. An antihero of the unremarkable variety, Charlie attends all Tom's parties until he stops receiving invitations. When he discovers his deity's disappearance is tied to a terminal illness, he descends into the infernal "slums" of Tom's new hideout, and he finds his former hero hell-bent, ready to commit an arson that will erase his own existence in style. Charlie is confronted with a difficult decision that any coward would waver before. He has the chance to become an atheist—at least with respect to his dying god. After painting a portrait of man-made gods, the poem probes the question of whether and how we can cut short our penchant for great deceits.Charlie opens this narrative poem with an invective directed against himself.Just look at me. Isn't it obvious?I have no style. I'm just a human blur.On me expensive clothes look second-hand.They droop or sag. The color's never right.I wear the wrong apparel to the party.I pick the dullest item on the menu.Each haircut brings some new humiliation.6Crucially, we never receive an audit of this dour self-consciousness. By poem's end, no one has corrected or confirmed Charlie's condemnations. He may be right; his might be the antinomy of Midas's modus operandi. His hyperbolic portrait of Tom's greatness suggests that he is less than just to himself. His preoccupation with something as small as a menu item betrays a brutal obsessiveness. He employs the ascetical word "humiliation" in conjunction with a "haircut"—further revealing his unforgiving inner harshness. Charlie "always loved to visit Tom" precisely because he himself is Pathetic, Inc.7Were René Girard Charlie's older brother, he might sit the sad sap down on a comfortable couch and spell out the difficult truth as follows: The anti-hero "dreams of absorbing and assimilating his mediator's being."8 This highfalutin description of "the Other implies an insuperable revulsion for one's own substance."9 We ought not to take seriously the excuses these types give for their [End Page 150] failings and their fawning, for they "hate themselves on a more essential level than that of 'qualities.'"10 When Charlie disparages his badly cut bangs or his mismatched outfits, he's really incriminating his very being."The desire," Girard argues, "is aimed at the mediator's being."11 Charlie evinces this dynamic when he insists that Tom's "success was existential: / It wasn't what... (shrink)

This chapter is unique for several reasons. First, it brings together two unlikely authors, a PhD ethicist and her 15‐year‐old high‐school daughter, whose diverse interests include thinking about depictions of female characters in graphic novels. Second, it compares two unlikely DC female characters, Wonder Woman (the Amazonian princess heroine who protects innocent citizens from evil) and Harley Quinn (the ever‐evolving anti‐hero who vacillates between being an outright villain to being merely window dressing for her boyfriend, the Joker). The conclusion of (...) the chapter is unlikely, too: neither Wonder Woman nor Harley Quinn can ultimately succeed in their roles as moral hero and immoral anti‐hero when their popularity depends upon them being depicted as sexual objects. The chapter uses Aristotle's ethics to show that it isn't Wonder Woman's virtue that is thwarted, but her phronesis. Harley's antiheroism is similarly in jeopardy, since phronesis helps any person set and meet goals. (shrink)

21st century India constructs itself as a neoliberal and consumerist superpower. In his cinematic career Shah Rukh Khan has become an icon of a rampant middle class, transforming himself from an antihero into a model story of Indian success. Focusing on identity politics, in this article his persona is utilized as a prism through which some representations of fears connected to 20th century India can be observed.

Le portrait des héros de séries télévisuelles a progressivement évolué ces dernières années pour faire émerger la figure de l’antihéros, un trope caractérisé par une ambiguïté morale, un système de valeurs individualiste et, paradoxalement, un pouvoir de séduction majeur sur les spectateurs. Il s’agira de comprendre ce qui justifie l’intérêt que l’on porte à ce genre de personnages, et ce que la valorisation de comportements misanthropiques, marginaux ou parfois violents, révèle des valeurs de nos sociétés.

This essay discusses the views of historian Gertrude Himmelfarb, who sets forth that democratic societies tend toward a determinist outlook; she fears that the weakened belief in free will and its heroes endangers a democratic society. She regards H. G. Wells as the founder in 1920 of the "new history," with its antiheroic bias. She welcomes therefore the television series The Civil War for having achieved "a history from above and history from below," with its heroes among common soldiers as (...) well as the generals and statesmen. Himmelfarb criticizes the "debunking" historians who not only belittle the significance of heroes but find in "small causes" (e.g., the origins of Hitler's obsessive anti-Semitism) a basis for large-scale events (e.g., the Holocaust). Himmelfarb finds that H. G. Wells's Outline of History was intended not only to displace military conquerors as the heroes of history but to elevate the scientific elite in their place as history's truly constructive people. Americans, however, were, earlier, first introduced to another variety of "new history" by two Columbia University professors, Charles A. Beard and James Harvey Robinson, who wrote textbooks used by perhaps millions of high school students; Beard had derived the concept in 1906 when he read the Socialist History of France, much of it written by the French socialist, Jean Jaurès. The philosophy of history still remains in a position similar to that which has long prevailed in the philosophy of physics, where determinism and indeterminism have persisted irreconcilably. (shrink)

Le super héros est un minable comme les autres, et ce sont les humains les plus ordinaires qui leur servent désormais de modèle. Des Watchmen à The Boys en passant par Le Maître du haut château et les derniers avatars de Star Trek, c’est grâce à leurs antihéros à la Philip K. Dick que bien des séries contemporaines interrogent nos valeurs, voire dynamitent avec un sourire parfois corrosif les dernières forteresses de la société bourgeoise et patriarcale.

At their basic level, sporting events are about numbers: wins and losses, percentages and points, shots and saves, clocks and countdowns. However, sports narratives quickly leave the realm of statistics. The stories we tell and retell, sometimes for decades, make sports dramatic and compelling. Just like any great drama, sports imply conflict, not just battles on the field of play, but clashes of personalities, goals, and strategies. In telling these stories, we create heroes, but we also create villains. This book (...) is about the latter, those players who transgress norms and expectations and who we label the "bad boys" of sports. Using a variety of approaches, contributors examine the cultural, social, and rhetorical implications of sports villainy. Each chapter focuses on a different athlete and sport, questioning issues such as how notorious sports figures are defined to be "bad" within particular sports and within the larger culture, the role media play in creating antiheroes, fan reactions when players cross boundaries, and how those boundaries shift depending on the athlete's gender, sexuality, and race. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Tale of Three Zoras:Barbara Johnson and Black Women WritersHortense J. Spillers (bio)Talking about Zora Neale Hurston is like approaching the Sphinx—so much riddle, so many faces, and all of it occurring on fairly high holy ground since Alice Walker's remarkable discovery a couple of decades ago.1 But Barbara Johnson's criticism cracks the code on Her Majesty and brings the sign vehicle—"Zora Neale Hurston"—to the table of juxtapositions and (...) comparisons. There is the iconic Hurston, whose positioning between the Harlem Renaissance2 and the post-World War II writers gives her a priority of status that marks the woman artist's entry into literary modernism. The latter, in its variety of contexts and alignments, opened the way to certain experimental forms for these writers and might not have been completed as a systematic gesture before the late sixties and early seventies, when this generation of practitioners was free to create antiheroic figures and to probe the limits of representability. In short, with Zora Neale Hurston a window is pried open, a breeze blows through, and by the time of Toni Morrison's Beloved, an opening has become a prospect, a landscape of vistas of possibility. We can think of Hurston, then, as an enabler, who was not particularly encouraged by the literary politics of her age, from first to last; whether by the "maledom" of Harlem Renaissance avenues to reward and achievement, or by the paradigm shift of race politics in the 1950s,3 Hurston seems to have been equipped with the uncanny ability to create a kind of chaos, to behave outside the parameters of fashion, and to create dimensions of the mythical about her as she modeled versions of self.In her role as classically trained anthropologist and folklorist, Hurston is considered today one of the major theoreticians of black culture.4 Her collections of lore, a [End Page 94] motherlode of a southern-centered orality,5 of the countryside, are fruitfully poised against the displaced metaphysical traditions of discourse that we especially associate with figures like Alain Locke and W. E. B. DuBois.6 As it now appears, the oppositional currents that run between the Hurstonian and the DuBoisian figurations have yet to be reconciled: the latter is text-based, and the former exceeds the abiding centrality of the word. Barbara Johnson argues in A World of Difference that Hurston "tried to explain the difference between a reified 'art' and a living culture in which distinctions between spectator and spectacle, rehearsal and performance, experience and representation are not fixed" [159]. For Hurston, folklore was "'the arts of the people before they find out that there is such a thing as art.'" For Hurston, unlike DuBois, for example, black culture was not a project in the modality of Bildung, or the Hegelian notion, but, rather, a repertoire of gestures that might be said to belong to a second skin—the kinetic thing that is done or said.From our current perspective, what Hurston called "folklore" and what offered the occasion for the ethnographic foray might be given other names, though renaming these acts and gestures of the everyday does not make it any easier to reconcile the conceptual split in black culture theory between textuality and orality, or between "urban" and "countryside." But all of these locutions have been essentially eviscerated by radical changes in the availability and transmission of consumer goods that have rendered US local and indigenous cultures virtually indistinguishable from Jackson, Mississippi to Boston, Massachusetts. Take any interstate network across the land, east to west, or north to south: between McDonald's and the food/gas mart, scattered along ten- to twenty-mile sequences of roadway, one is quite astonished at the sameness and homogeneity of motifs that have translated particularity into an item of commerce and exchange. At one time, the critics were calling this outcome the postmodern flow, but my own hunch is that this apparent repetition and replication of the same are riddled with a variety of timbres and accents, still, that the Hurston ear was so sharp to articulate and define six decades ago. And in that intricate choreography between the life... (shrink)

The present article considers the implications projected by the main characters of Universal History of Infamy by Jorge Luis Borges. The seven protagonists embody a common pattern in their infamous trajectory: they exploit the tools of power by using discourse, according to the proposition by Michel Foucault, despite their being “on the other side of the law”. Although conditioned by specific historical-cultural circumstances, these heroes-antiheroes share the use of evil and the ascent to a seudo-mythical pedestal subsequently to the summit (...) of their infamy. One of the central ideas of the article is that the tension between evil –abjection– and the ascension to the category of myth –sublimation– originates the discharge of the infamy and configures its universal image. (shrink)

Breaking Bad has been lauded as the best series ever on television by numerous critics and polls. It follows the “Breaking Bad” (i.e., the moral degradation) of Walter White, a middle-class, middle-aged high school chemistry teacher in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Presented in the form of a literary epic employing satire, it provides us with a way to look at complex issues of justice, the good, and meaning, all while imparting a sense of aesthetics of justice and morality. The aesthetics of (...) justice in Breaking Bad examines problems and issues of modernity, employing existential and moralistic themes similar to other satirical epic works featuring antiheroes including Ulysses and Don Quixote. In this chapter, the existentialist themes and aesthetic treatment of Walt’s complex moral world are discussed in relation to other epic satirical works, and an argument expanding upon the author’s prior conceptions of Breaking Bad’s aesthetics of the just and the good is made. (shrink)

Boba Fett's cultural significance stands in striking contrast with his minimal screen time, and even more so with his infrequent and tersely spoken lines. With Boba Fett, a small head tilt, as well as how he cradles his gun become important signs. Boba Fett's status as an intermediary might make him seem amoral relativist. As is often the case with characters in Star Wars, Boba Fett has father issues. Bounty hunting in Boba's work occupies a gray zone between the white (...) of his clone trooper brethren and the black of Vader. Boba may be a “good son” who takes up his father's business, but the business itself is a troublesome affair. Repeated screenings of The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi may have convinced many viewers that Boba Fett's iconic status as an “antihero” was grounded in the appearance of amoralism being at the heart of mercenary work. (shrink)

The view that allegiance to characters is a matter of general moral assessment, as developed by Carroll (1984) and Smith (1995), has the resources to respond to counterexamples proposed in the literature, including appeals to anti-heroes, rough heroes and other ‘reprehensible characters’ that garner our allegiance. It can even admit non-moral factors as subterranean influences on moral assessment. Nevertheless, the view requires that the characters we most favour are those with the highest moral standing, and this does not seem to (...) be true of the character arc story (Kelly, 2020). Rather, the mixture of good and bad impulses in the protagonist is set off by the unalloyed moral example of the moral centre, a supporting character whose fate may barely interest us. We conclude that narrative theory is better served by allowing the moral hierarchy of a story to differ from the rank order of its allegiances, and hence that audience affiliation is not simply a matter of moral assessment. (shrink)

Modern television is awash in programs that focus on the rough hero, a protagonist that is explicitly depicted as immoral. In this paper I examine why audiences find these characters so compelling, focusing on archetypal rough heroes in two programs: The Sopranos and Breaking Bad. I argue that the ability of rough-hero programs to engender a certain degree of empathy for morally deviant characters despite viewers' resistance to empathizing with these characters' moral views is an aesthetic achievement. In addition, I (...) argue that empathy for the rough hero has cognitive value in that it enables us to reflect on the nuances of the psychology underlying moral deviance. In defending these claims, I offer my view as an alternative to A.W. Eaton's robust immoralist view that the aesthetic value of rough-hero programs lies in their ability to make audiences empathize with immoral perspectives; my claim is that empathy for rough heroes does not extend to their moral outlooks. My view also provides an alternative to Matthew Kieran's cognitive immoralist view that a work's depiction of immorality has cognitive value insofar as it imparts a normative lesson; my claim is that rough-hero programs are cognitively valuable not because they teach us about the perils of acting immorally, but because they help us understand the moral psychology that underlies immoral behavior. I defend an interpretation of rough-hero programs that incorporates insights from Eaton's and Kieran's immoralist views but does not support immoralism. (shrink)