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Authors: Jason Sperb
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many iterations of “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah” itself, as well as the theme park attraction Splash Mountain. Disney’s ambitious thrill ride rewrote the narrative of the film by replacing the “Tar Baby,” which ensnares Brer Rabbit, with a pot of honey. This water log ride reflected a revised version of an old film that the company otherwise had no interest in continuing to rerelease. Far from unconditionally embracing its catalog of socially constructed “classics,” Disney shrewdly maximized the film’s remaining market value through the company’s ubiquitous transmedia empire, while also keeping the overtly racist full-length version locked up in the proverbial Disney vault.
The final chapter, “Reassuring Convergence: New Media, Nostalgia, and the Internet Fandom of
Song of the South
,” documents Disney fandom’s recent online behavior in support of the film. Working off Boym’s theories on modernity and nostalgia, and Jenkins’s work on contemporary fandom and participatory culture, this section considers the racial and cultural implications of
Song of the South
’s continuing presence online. As a new century began, many of the older discourses of a Reaganist, post-racial whiteness persisted, even while Disney strategically remediated the old Uncle Remus film nearly out of existence. The official absence of
Song of the South
has only created a textual vacuum in the twenty-first century, which fans of the film have filled through the newer media platform of the Internet. I document fans’ actions online, where they contest any charges of
Song of the South
’s racism, circulate partial excerpts or whole copies of the movie through YouTube, file sharing, or bootleg DVDs, and actively advocate for the film’s official rerelease on home video formats. In many ways, Disney’s decision to shelve the nearly seventy-year-old
Song of the South
has only worked to intensify its notoriety.
In the conclusion, I answer the question most often asked of me at conferences while presenting parts of my research: What do
I
personally think of
Song of the South
? Specifically, do I think Disney should rerelease the film today? This book is a historical–materialist reception study of
Song of the South
, the Disney Corporation, its various paratexts, its alternatingly critical and supportive audiences, and its richly diverse historical contexts. As such, I made an effort to set aside my own personal thoughts in favor of articulating the historical and cultural contexts that explain why certain groups saw the film the way they did, on particular media platforms, and at particular moments in time. For reasons of access and dialogue, I personally feel that Disney should make
Song of the South
available—to generate focused discussion about why it’s offensive, to defuse both fan activism and obnoxious feelings of self- righteous indignation, and to bring the ugly text back out into the open. I have no interest in seeing Disney validate the politics of the notoriously racist film, even if they would profit further from it. Yet as the book will show, removing the film from circulation has not ever really achieved the intended effect either. In any event, based on the film’s varied history, whatever happens will not be the final word on the subject.
One
CONDITIONS OF POSSIBILITY
The Disney Studios, Postwar “Thermidor,” and the Ambivalent Origins of
Song of the South
The [literary] Remus stories are a monument to the South’s ambivalence. Harris, the archetypical Southerner, sought the Negro’s love, and pretended he had received it (Remus’s grin). But he sought the Negro’s hate too (Brer Rabbit). . . . Harris’s inner split—and the South’s, and white America’s—is mirrored in the fantastic disparity between Remus’s beaming face and Brer Rabbit’s acts. And such aggressive acts increasingly emanate from the grin, along with the hamburgers, the shoeshines, the “happifyin’” pancakes.
BERNARD
The final chapter, “Reassuring Convergence: New Media, Nostalgia, and the Internet Fandom of
Song of the South
,” documents Disney fandom’s recent online behavior in support of the film. Working off Boym’s theories on modernity and nostalgia, and Jenkins’s work on contemporary fandom and participatory culture, this section considers the racial and cultural implications of
Song of the South
’s continuing presence online. As a new century began, many of the older discourses of a Reaganist, post-racial whiteness persisted, even while Disney strategically remediated the old Uncle Remus film nearly out of existence. The official absence of
Song of the South
has only created a textual vacuum in the twenty-first century, which fans of the film have filled through the newer media platform of the Internet. I document fans’ actions online, where they contest any charges of
Song of the South
’s racism, circulate partial excerpts or whole copies of the movie through YouTube, file sharing, or bootleg DVDs, and actively advocate for the film’s official rerelease on home video formats. In many ways, Disney’s decision to shelve the nearly seventy-year-old
Song of the South
has only worked to intensify its notoriety.
In the conclusion, I answer the question most often asked of me at conferences while presenting parts of my research: What do
I
personally think of
Song of the South
? Specifically, do I think Disney should rerelease the film today? This book is a historical–materialist reception study of
Song of the South
, the Disney Corporation, its various paratexts, its alternatingly critical and supportive audiences, and its richly diverse historical contexts. As such, I made an effort to set aside my own personal thoughts in favor of articulating the historical and cultural contexts that explain why certain groups saw the film the way they did, on particular media platforms, and at particular moments in time. For reasons of access and dialogue, I personally feel that Disney should make
Song of the South
available—to generate focused discussion about why it’s offensive, to defuse both fan activism and obnoxious feelings of self- righteous indignation, and to bring the ugly text back out into the open. I have no interest in seeing Disney validate the politics of the notoriously racist film, even if they would profit further from it. Yet as the book will show, removing the film from circulation has not ever really achieved the intended effect either. In any event, based on the film’s varied history, whatever happens will not be the final word on the subject.
One
CONDITIONS OF POSSIBILITY
The Disney Studios, Postwar “Thermidor,” and the Ambivalent Origins of
Song of the South
The [literary] Remus stories are a monument to the South’s ambivalence. Harris, the archetypical Southerner, sought the Negro’s love, and pretended he had received it (Remus’s grin). But he sought the Negro’s hate too (Brer Rabbit). . . . Harris’s inner split—and the South’s, and white America’s—is mirrored in the fantastic disparity between Remus’s beaming face and Brer Rabbit’s acts. And such aggressive acts increasingly emanate from the grin, along with the hamburgers, the shoeshines, the “happifyin’” pancakes.
BERNARD
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