Semiotics & Structuralism in The Dark Knight

Structuralism in Chaucer’s “The Knight’s Tale”

Structuralism establishes the fact that there is a natural order to things, and that everything follows this natural order. Moreover, not only does everything follow these structures of order, they are all “generated by the human mind” (Tyson 199). Chaucer’s “Knight’s Tale” very follows a structure and natural order of things and, to me follows a structuralist pattern in the eys of many readers of the tale.

Most readers of Chaucer’s “Knight’s Tale” will admit that it seems to follow a natural order. Maybe this has to do with the fact that most people read this Tale in High School, and never really delve deeply into it. But nevertheless, there is a structure which it follows that is most likely created by us, the reader. In the Tale, you have the damsels in distress, the knights in shining armor, and the love triangle that leads to a battle to the death for the hand of the lovely maiden. (Never mind the fact that the damsels in distress just so happen to be the queen of the Amazons, Hippolyta, and her sister Emily. I mean, that’s got to be something to raise an eyebrow at, but apparently that is irrelevant, so we have to hush and don’t ask questions). Given this classic “Knight in Shining Armor Fights to Death for Hand of Lovely Maiden” type of plot, we see the “Knight’s Tale” follow this natural order. This is the order we expect it to take, for we have come to understand most stories of Medieval Knights and Ladies as having similar plots.

 

According to Tyson, “structuralism sees itself as a science of humankind, for its efforts to discover the structures that underlie the world’s surface phenomena” (200). To explain, the surface phenomena which relates to the Knight’s Tale would be the way which we think of women as opposed to men. Women are portrayed as weak, frail, and in need of saving from the first strong white man that happens to walk by. Especially in literature, we often see this trend of viewpoints play out. Hence, because we automatically read women as frail and in need of saving, when reading the “Knight’s Tale,” we might first see Emily as such. It’s a structure we’ve established in our minds to think of ladies in waiting as in need of saving from some handsome knight. So, when the story unfolds and Arcite and Palamon (the two knights in the Tale) fight to the death for her, we see this as a natural succession of events.

However, this system is rather flawed in reference to the “Knight’s Tale” because Emily really does not want to be saved (What?! You mean to tell me the damsel in distress isn’t always in distress?! Shocker.). She even prays to the goddess Diana for freedom from not just one of the two knights, but both saying: “I want to be a maiden all my life, I never wish to be [a] lover or wife” (Chaucer 145). She is still forced to marry one of the knights, but the fact that she blatantly didn’t want either of them is often overlooked by readers. Why do you think this is? I think that it is because of the structures we already have set up in our minds due to many years of grooming. We see the knights in shining armor who have fallen desperately in love with the lady (never mind that they never really met her,  it’s true love, meeting the person doesn’t matter in these tales), and we see the lady trapped without a man to save her (never mind that she wasn’t really trapped, that she was perfectly content ALONE) and automatically our minds avert to the familiar Knight in Shining Armor-esque tale. Because of our interpretation of women, and the way our minds have been groomed to think about them from the examples we often see other people portraying in the world, this is a structure we have adopted.

It may have flaws, but it is still our “norm,” the way in which our minds have interpreted tales of this kind. And while some people are working to change this normality, it’s still a structure that our brain concocts due to the surface phenomena we see around us, and thus it portrays structuralism.

                                                      Works Cited:

Chaucer, Geoffrey, and Sheila Fisher. The Selected Canterbury Tales: A New Verse Translation. W.W. Norton & Co, 2011. 

Tyson, Lois. Critical Theory Today: A User-Friendly Guide. Routledge, 2015.

Structuralism and The X Files Episode Structure

Structuralism is of particular interest to me because of the way it emphasises the way specific works add to the bigger picture and minimize the individual instance. This makes it an perfect fit for interpreting television shows in general, but i'm going to be looking at The X Files in particular. To begin with some background information, the show first aired in 1993 to 2002, and was just picked up again recently in 2016. While for the most part the show is described as a procedural, this line is heavily blurred throughout the course of the show. The X Files uses it’s format, or more specifically the expectations that it’s format creates,  to make a world in which it appears actions do have tangible consequences.

The concepts of langue (the order and structure of language) and parole (the utterances and instances of a language) are concepts that help illustrate how The X Files achieves this. The langue of the show are all the unwritten rules that we know it will follow (if you have seen the show before). For example, we are aware that there is no way that Mulder or Scully die in the middle of an episode in the middle of a season, especially if we are aware of the sheer number of seasons likely after that. In the same way, we understand that it is unlikely that whatever mystery the protagonists are trying to solve will be wrapped up in the first 15 minutes of the show. This is because we have knowledge about the langue of the show. Each individual episode is the parole through which we would gain this understanding.

The X Files uses the audience’s conceived langue and plays with it, building episodes and stories with it in mind. Usually in a procedural tv show like this one, everything would be wrapped up at the end of the episode and reset for the next. The X Files often adheres to this formula, and has many “monster of the week” structured episodes, in which everything is wrapped up in the end and often never mentioned again. However there are outliers. Certain episodes will follow the “monster of the week” structure and wrap everything up nicely, only to have the events of that episode come back to haunt the protagonists again later on. For example, Eugene Victor Tooms who is listed on the X Files wiki as “genetic mutant serial killer who was capable of squeezing his body through narrow gaps” shows up in the third episode of the series and his story is seemingly wrapped up by the end of the show, only to reappear later in the twenty first episode to have his story finally brought to a close.

http://x-files.wikia.com/wiki/Eugene_Victor_Tooms

These episodes co-exist along with even larger story arcs in which it is quite clear that the story will continue on throughout even a season or two. “The Cigarette Smoking Man” and the events and circumstances surrounding him are a great example of this. He is so integral to the overarching story of the show that despite having only four audible words in the first season of the show, he has his own wikipedia page full to the brim with information.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cigarette_Smoking_Man

Each of these distinct types of episodes (Monster of the week, continued story, or plot arch) even has outliers within their type. In his article "Structuralism in Cultural and Literary Studies" Robert Parker asserts that these odd examples only add to the richness and help further define the system, and that when we find them we may choose to “enlarge the circumference of the system to include the anomalous case, or draw a boundary to define the system by determining what conventions fit into it and what conventions do not fit into it”(Parker 52). The X Files allows you to consistently enlarge the circumference of its system because of the way it handles it’s episode structure. Actions that you may have thought to have no consequence may be integral to a future plot. This is not even to mention the movies which contain integral plot points for the category of episodes that deal with these things, which means they are a seemingly concrete part of the system. The ways in which the show constantly mixes and changes its parole lead to an interesting and dynamic langue.

😋😍Structure and Semiotics in The Avengers😎😊

S

tructuralism can help explain why the 2012 movie The Avengers was so successful. In its striking similarity to professional wrestling matches, observers find a theme that has been perpetuated since the ancient Greek era.

            First of all, to establish the film’s noteworthy achievement level. Critic review website Rotten Tomatoes has it ranked at a favorable 92 percent enjoyment score for analysts, and a close 91 percent for audiences (https://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/marvels_the_avengers/). Unsurprisingly, then, upon its release, it earned $1,518,812,988 worldwide, despite utilizing a comparatively small production budget of only $220 million (http://collider.com/marvel-movies-box-office/). Clearly, people really liked what this feature offered.
            Answers to the widespread appreciation that the hero-heavy accomplishment generated can be derived from structuralism, a root-cause approach to literary study. As student resource Shmoop explains, “Structuralist theorists are interested in identifying and analyzing the structures that underlie all cultural phenomena—and not just literature” (https://www.shmoop.com/structuralism/). To them, the outpouring of support that The Avengers received would be indicative of its adherence to a previously established pattern historically guiding celebrated entertainment. And they would probably zero in on modern wrestlers to prove their point.
            Semiotics—the examination of the ways that linguistic and nonlinguistic objects and behaviors operate symbolically to communicate a message—is a component of structuralism that the method’s scholars would be excited to use to illustrate the nature of the spectator sweep that The Avengers snagged (Lois Tyson; Critical Theory Today, Third Edition: A User-Friendly Guide; 205). Within semiotics, a wrestler’s occupation is a sign system—a thing, an action, or a collection of things or actions capable of being assessed as a specialized language (Tyson 205). When a competitor gets ready to rumble, he or she relies on the sign system of wrestling—a language meant to provide onlookers with the cathartic pleasure of watching justice triumph in a clear-cut, good-versus-evil situation (Tyson 205).

The fancy picture shown here emphasizes the excellent teamwork that the Avengers display and, more importantly, the professionalism characterizing the post that it appears in.

            Without a doubt, the two opposing sides are blatantly defined in director Joss Whedon’s superhero party, and the protagonists’ win is indisputable. As in the high-class and intricately complex world of the revered ring-rocker, each champion is an easily identifiable type (Tyson 205). The imposing lineup consists of Iron Man, the self-made tech genius and sardonic comedian; Captain America, the patriotic super-soldier and moral paragon; Hawkeye and the Black Widow, the undercover international agents and allegiance-switchers; Thor, the haughty prince and hammer-thrower; and the Hulk, the Dr. Jekyll-Mr. Hyde scientist and monster nightmare. Likewise, these leading personalities reinforce the idiosyncratic images of heroism that they project via consistent interactions in the same manner that World Wrestling Entertainment stars do (Tyson 205). For example, to discover the truths that another character is hiding, Iron Man implements covert devices to hack his air carrier. In response to Iron Man’s brazen distrust and deception, Captain America, after chastising him, does his own antithetical—contrastingly open and honest—research by physically breaking into a locked section of the airborne vehicle and locating definitive tangible evidence. And, of course, the talent-stacked team defeats their enemy, the devious demigod Loki, at the end of the story.
            In the course of the involved narrative—which includes an abundance of tense fight scenes, humorous jokes, and emotional backstory—twenty-first-century viewers are playing the part of their counterparts in the theaters of a long-lost Greece. There, gladiators and staged productions served as outlets for celebrities to exaggeratedly demonstrate their pain, despair, or triumph and enable fans to vicariously release their individual feelings (Tyson 206). Iron Man’s self-explanatory name; his up-to-date style choices and expensive attributes; his sleek metal suit; his aggressive outlook; and his derisive smirks make him as straightforwardly categorized as he is predictable and, therefore, reliable. Captain America’s eponymous title; his muscular physique; his bright, bold costume; his confident attitude; and his focused facial expression allow him to be a foil who is also plainly defined and understandable. Whether a moviegoer prefers the snarky Tony Stark or the ethical Steve Rogers, there is—depending on the perspective applied—a hotshot gladiator, actor, or wrestler in The Avengers to whom he or she can relate, an obvious good guy, a trustworthy good guy, emerging victorious from a battle against evil.
            Given the evident parallel between The Avengers and WWE, both of which are reminiscent of archaic Greek spectacle—incorporating either slaves and grotesque bloodiness or performers and casual relaxation—it is not a shock that the feat earned as much as it did at the box office. Structurally, the semiotics undergirding the sign system, the readable content, of the superheroes’ antics are those responsible for knockout rounds and historic Grecian revelry alike: personalized main characters behaving consistently and conquering a cowardly villain once and for all.  

Structuralism and Thomas Pynchon's Inherent Vice

In Critical Theory Today, Tyson identifies the structural grammar of many postmodern novels as, "don't-bother-to-seek," basing this formulation off of Todorov's theory of narrative grammar. One such novel Tyson identifies as having this don't-bother-to-seek structure is Thomas Pynchon's 1966 novel The Crying of Lot 49. This grammar underlies postmodern themes like solipsism and anomie, both of which Pynchon deals with extensively, and especially in his aforementioned 1966 novel. In Pynchon's early career these were fresh and relevant themes; however, in the decades since they have been borne out almost ad nauseam. The primary mode of the postmodern novel is self conscious eclecticism and irony, and as Paul de Man observes, "The irony of irony is the fact that one becomes weary of it if one is offered it everywhere all the time." This disillusionment caused the hermeneutic loop to turn in a sense, thus rejecting the worn-out trope of irony in search of sincerity, agency, and attempts to move beyond solipsism. It is my opinion that Pynchon offers such a foil in his 2009 novel Inherent Vice. 
Avid Pynchon fans will quickly recognize Inherent Vice's distinctly unPynchonian style, which is to say that it reads like a real novelistic novel, rather than a fragmented and confusing word soup: it is unquestionably his most readable work of fiction which is an interesting kind of reversion for Pynchon and comes across as uncynical and genuine; however, many of its elements are distinctly Pynchonian, and I'll focus on these so as to establish an intertextuality between it and The Crying of Lot 49. Both feature, among other similarities, drug fueled, unreliable, paranoid narrator/protagonists, as well as ominous, enigmatic, all powerful, ubiquitous late-stage-capitalist entities in TCL49's feuding antebellum postal companies and IV's Golden Fang, both of which pervade their respective novels and evade explanation by TCL49's protagonist, Oedipa Maas, and IV's protagonist, Doc Sportello. Both novels take place during the American 1960's, a time of massive social upheaval, which serves as a prominent backdrop for both stories. The catalyst for both plots' central conflicts is the unexpected reappearance of Oedipa and Doc's ex-lovers, who in both cases send our protagonists on convoluted, increasingly conspiratorial goose-chases. In the end, neither protagonist get answers to the questions that initially motivate their quests, although what Doc and Oedipa "learn" from their experiences is quite different. Oedipa's journey is essentially isolating and sees her lose her husband and friends, venturing ever closer to insanity and obsession, and culminating in her absurdly trying to recover her dead ex-lover's stamp collection as a potential clue to an obscure history between two U.S. postal services' 19th century debacle. In true fashion of dramatic irony, it is clear to the reader that even if Oedipa's conspiracy is true that she will likely never know nor have any power to do anything about it. Doc, however, equally unsuccessful in unearthing the mystery and extent of the Golden Fang, is able to do the one thing he even has the power to do: save his friends from the Golden Fang by brokering a deal. In Doc's tale he frequently collaborates with friends, forms relationships with acquaintances, develops an unlikely bond with the novel's initial antagonist, and even reunites a family, despite never actually recovering the lost love of his cherished "ex-Old lady," (his endearing sobriquet for her), Shasta Fay Hepworth.
Many who saw Inherent Vice's film adaptation complained about its incomprehensible and nonsensical plot, upset by the fact that they were unable in one viewing to put a nice, neat bow around each plot lines' significance or meaning. Pynchon has never departed from this mode of narrative and probably never will, although in Doc he offers us an actual postmodern hero, one that has evaded audiences for decades, and which may in and of itself be distinctly unpostmodern. In the face of massive epistemic uncertainty, Doc is able to carve out a moral code and stick to it. He is able to shout into the void without the facade of irony protecting him. He is resigned to his powerlessness, and he is ready, "For whatever would happen. For a forgotten joint to materialize in his pocket. For the CHP to come by and choose not to hassle him... For the fog to burn away and for something else this time, somehow, to be there instead." These final lines to me indicate the end of solipsism - the promise of something outside of ourselves if only we can resign ourselves to its possibilities.

Structuralist Criticism: The Haute Couture of Literature

Structuralist literary theory lends itself to the exploration of the underpinnings found in literature, culture, and human experience to equip critics with the tools necessary to examine a work and begin to draw conclusions about its significance. These codes and structures that allow one to interpret a text mirror those found in the elusive world of haute couture.

Haute Couture, or “high sewing,” is the creation of custom-fitted clothing constructed entirely by hand from start to finish and is solely produced in France. Few haute couture houses are open today as a result of the modern ready-to-wear industry. However, the influence of haute couture and the designers who founded these eponymous labels continue to dictate modern fashion. But where lies structuralism? The answer is found within the codes of each fashion house.

A code in fashion is a structuring principle upon which the brand was founded. Take for example Christian Dior and the House of Dior. In 1947, Monsieur Dior revolutionized fashion with the “New Look.” This debut was an image of a tight-fitting jacket, padded hips, a tiny waist, and an A-line skirt.

                                          

The “New Look” soon rooted itself into Hollywood and American culture which influenced the same swing skirts, bobby socks and oxfords of 50s American youth. 

                                    

Haute couture respects its codes and interprets them in new ways each season to create the trends we see trickle down to ready-to-wear. These designer ready-to-wear trends find themselves in modern trends when more affordable brands such as Zara or H&M interpret these looks into mass produced clothing. Take for example a code established by the House of Chanel, the tweed jacket. An enduring piece that has been celebrated since its creation; it was designed in 1916 by Chanel. The jacket was part of Gabrielle Chanel’s goal to liberate women from the corset and free the body. She is responsible for the the first blending of womenswear and menswear.

Additionally, Chanel also designed one of the first flapper dresses which became synonymous with the styles of Roaring Twenties. 

The codes established by the House of Dior and Chanel are reminiscent of the relatively few simple codes that organize phenomena and structure in literature. As in structuralist theory, the foundation and underlying principles are the same; what changes is how one decides to construct his or her edifice. Thus, modern fashion relies on the simple and basic rules that organize and classify the garment. The flapper dress, little black jacket, and “New Look,” are only a minority of the already few fundamental structures upon which we base our current fashions. 

Fashion and structure share wholeness, transformation, and self-regulation in the ways explored through the codes of haute couture and its influence in the industry. In terms of wholeness, haute couture is different from the sum of its parts: concept, creation, technique, price, art, and philosophy. It rests as a combination of these things that serve its own unique purpose. Haute couture is not static, it is reinterpreted based on the codes of the house in new and exciting way by designers that continue the legacy of the founders in new and inventive ways. Lastly, self-regulation is obeyed in haute couture as there is law in France as to what is considered an haute couture piece. With such an adherence to a strict conceptual system, it becomes clear to see how structuralist theory and the art of high sewing blend so well.