Artículos de revistas sobre el tema "Exoticism and authenticity"

This essay aims to critically reassess and, ultimately, rehabilitate exoticism, understood as a particular mode of cultural representation and a highly contested discourse on cultural difference, by bringing it into dialogue with cosmopolitanism. It offers a theoretical exploration of exoticism and cosmopolitanism alongside associated critical frameworks, such as the contact zone, autoethnography, authenticity and cultural translation, and brings them to bear on two awardwinning films that aptly illustrate a new type of exoticism in contemporary world cinema. Using Tanna (Martin Butler and Bentley Dean, 2015) and Embrace of the Serpent (Ciro Guerra, 2015), both made in collaboration with Indigenous communities, as case studies, this essay proposes that exoticism is inflected by cosmopolitan, rather than colonial and imperialist, sensibilities. It therefore differs profoundly from its precursors, which are premised on white supremacist assumptions about the Other which legitimised colonial expansion and the subjugation of the subaltern. By contrast, the new type of exoticism challenges and decentres Western values and systems of knowledge and aligns itself with the ethico-political agendas of cosmopolitanism, notably the promotion of crosscultural dialogue, an ecological awareness and the empowerment of hitherto marginalised communities.

Omnivorous cultural theory highlights the persistence of inequalities within gourmet food culture despite its increasing democratization, arguing that foods remain symbols of distinction through their framing as ‘authentic’ and ‘exotic’. Where these two frames have been shown to encompass problematic racial connotations, questions arise over how racial inequalities manifest in foodie discourse. Drawing from interviews with foodies of color living in Toronto, Canada, this article examines how these inequalities are reproduced, adjusted and resisted by people of color. It asks: how do foodies of color interpret and deploy dominant foodie frames of authenticity and exoticism? Analysis reveals each frame’s potential both to encourage cross-cultural understanding and essentialize or exacerbate ethno-cultural difference. Participants’ ambivalent relationship with foodie discourse (i.e. deploying it alongside critiquing it) highlights how cultural capital works alongside ethno-racial inequalities, and reveals the racial tensions remaining within foodies’ attempts to reconcile democracy and distinction.

This article analyses the exotic and idealizsd images of indigenous women in tourism. In particu‑ lar, it reflects on the role of gender in the construct of imaginaries and the representation of femininity asso‑ ciated with the traditional roles of women in the private and domestic sphere. To this end, the author inves‑ tigates the tourism scenario in the houses/shops of the municipality of Zinacantán, in Los Altos de Chiapas, Mexico, and the criteria of authenticity as deployed in tourism promotion. The paper aims to investigate this view of female exoticism that affects the way these women redefine themselves through the staging of their bodies and their traditional roles. It concludes that this image of exoticism reproduces a colonial gaze and perpetuates patriarchal power relations and ideologies.

AbstractSince the late nineteenth century, the “Indian” as symbol has been a recurring trope in the art music of Mexico and the United States. Composers in both countries have often turned to representations of Indigenous Peoples as symbolic of nature, spirituality, and/or aspects of the national Self. This article seeks to place James DeMars's opera Guadalupe, Our Lady of the Roses (2008) in the context of two major cultural trends: Indianism in the U.S., and the representation of Mexico by U.S. composers. DeMars's use of Indigenous instruments in Guadalupe, including Mexican pre-Hispanic percussion, and flutes performed by famed Navajo-Ute flutist R. Carlos Nakai, continues the Indianist tradition of associating the Indigenous cultures of both countries with nature, spirituality, and authenticity. Similar associations emerge in the development and reception of both “world music” and the Native American recording industry since the 1980s, as exemplified by Nakai's career. DeMars uses these instruments in combination with Plains Native American features and generic exoticisms to represent both the Mexican Indigenous Peoples and the spiritual message of the opera. The sympathetic treatment of Indigenous cultures in Guadalupe nevertheless exists in tension with their exoticism and Otherness; in this the work is representative of U.S. cultural responses to Mexico stretching back throughout the long twentieth century.

What turns a bottle of fermented grape juice into a cult wine? Current research in the sociology of culture and food assumes that nowadays the distinctiveness of goods is ascertained not on the basis of traditional food hierarchies (e.g. French food and wine as the global benchmark) but based on criteria of authenticity and exoticism. Since public discourse plays an important role in the consecration of aesthetic goods, we study wine journalism in Germany over time. This enables us to analyse the replacement of traditional criteria and the emergence of new criteria of aesthetic valuation in the wine world. The study is based on a systematic content analysis of the two most important German weeklies from 1947 to 2008. We can show that wine reporting shifts dramatically from an orientation towards French and domestic wines and a rather business-like approach to wine towards a more global orientation and a discourse of authenticity focusing on artisanal production, natural conditions of production and the winemaker as an individual personality/artist.

This paper aims to analyze the issue if Pearl S. Buck conveys an authentic image of China in The Good Earth by composing typical and important aspects ranging from the life of Chinese lower class to the their spiritual status through realistic style. This article reflects its mysterious characteristics by analyzing Buck’s writing of Chinese exoticism and spiritual simplicity and plainness in the novel. Meanwhile, through the exploration of the harsh social conditions, the physical and mental suffering of social oppression, and the tragic fate under the feudal foolishness, Peal tries to find out the true side of China. In addition, through further study, it is found out that Pearl’s portraying of China is featured with waving position: a sense of fusion of and contradiction between mystery and authenticity, thus presenting a contradictory and compatible image of China.

Of French-Algerian and Andalusian-Romani descent, French film director Tony Gatlif offers an intriguing insight into the culture of one of Europe’s most marginalized, misunderstood and misrepresented others: the Romani (Gypsies). This article examines the rules of engagement in Gatlif’s representation of cultural minorities, particularly in relation to his claims to cultural “truth” and authenticity in his filmmaking. Also explored are the dynamics of exoticism and the narratives of perpetual discovery that characterize Gatlif’s success on the film festival circuit, which has its own set of rules and vested interests when it comes to film programming in the context of a self-serving, heavily mediated and orientalist altruism. Such dynamics reveal as much about the idiosyncrasies of film critics, curators and audiences as of the filmmaker himself, all of which combines to form the rules of engagement in filmmaking and spectatorship in the exoticized and “othered” space of World Cinema.

This essay is a descriptive analysis of a 2000 encounter with Mayan “mambo” dancing in a mountain community, an encounter that challenges assumptions about prevalent notions of exoticism, identity, and cultural authenticity. Traveling in Guatemala with a group of international scholars, I witnessed a public performance of the transnational mambo by costumed Guatemalans that was not mambo, not Mayan, and not social. Male performers, in celebration of Corpus Christi, dressed as Disney-style costume characters and executed routines to merengue music while nondancing participants watched the spectacle. This contradictory display of dancing encouraged me to reflect on the impact of popular social dance and to examine the complicated meanings communicated by performers who incorporate body-based art into indigenous social and economic paradigms. The performers' unique interpretation of mambo dance within the context of a public Corpus Christi festival underscored discrepancies between institutional perceptions of the mambo and the popular reuse of dance motifs. At the same time, the performance, which used clowning as a mechanism to engage the audience, inverted the solemnity of the religious feast day.

Food has long served as a form of cultural capital, and historically it was an elite few food critics who held the power to ascribe status to dining experiences. The rise of social and digital media arguably allows anybody to adopt the role of critic. Lowered barriers associated with digital technologies, coupled with the contemporary ‘foodatainment' boom have opened the floodgates for amateurs to weigh into the critical culinary discourse. The tendency for contemporary high-status dining experiences to include casual, rustic and simple foods suggests that the age of food snobbery is in the past. However, this notion of ‘omnivorousness' can be viewed as an alternative means of establishing rules surrounding high-status foods. Johnston and Baumann's US research reveals two frames used in food writing to valorise foods in an omnivorous age: authenticity and exoticism. In this project, Johnston and Baumann's methodology is developed and applied to Australian professional and amateur reviews. Results show that Australian professional reviews frequently employ frames of distinction whereas amateur reviews do not; it concludes that the contribution by amateurs to the critical culinary discourse is limited.

Abstract The majority of mass men in the American environment exhibit predictable and similar patterns of behavior as tourists. Pre-Industrial Revolution modes of traveling as liberation and exploration are now thwarted by the leveling effect of globalization and the illusion of information fueled by the all-pervasive mass media. Claims about the role of routine or the quest for authenticity are challenged as genuine motivations for mass tourism. Both the American culture and travel destinations in developing countries have authentic content that is largely ignored in favor of sensationalism and cliché. Excessive regimentation in the US creates the acute need for transcending to which popular culture finds accessible solutions through tourism: an experience of concentrated yet vague exoticism which feels liberating without yielding exploration. Travel destinations are shaped to American standards of material comfort and even adopt western popular culture icons in an effort to supply accessible familiar experiences of western entertainment. Various kinds of difficulty that once stimulated travelers are now relieved by travel agencies, rendering the experience of traveling less personal and more like TV entertainment. Old notions of space, time and reality itself are blurred in favor of a hyper-reality where fiction dominates.

Purpose Adopting a customer-dominant logic perspective, the purpose of this paper is to understand how some tourists decide on unusual trips and how they associate meanings to transform their experience into an event. Design/methodology/approach This research is exploratory and involves three qualitative data collection techniques. The authors conducted individual interviews complemented by travel narratives with tourists that decided to undertake off-track travel. The third method is ethnographic and focuses on tourists participating in a singular ritualistic festival. Findings Several factors explained how off-track travelers associate meanings to turn their real-life experience into a successful event. These factors cover three main concepts: discovery, social link and identity. Practical implications The authors propose managerial implications for ordinary service providers in the tourism sector. Managers should attempt to provide tourists with a framework within which they can create their own events and take initiatives. They must be supportive of tourists re-enhancing their experience and making efforts to create their own event. Originality/value This research explains how services must be less standardized to satisfy tourists looking for immersion, exoticism and authenticity and to support their initiatives.

This paper deals with the relationship between sound and image as expressed in the cinematic genre of music documentary. In particular, it tries to explore the way in which musical cultures are audiovisually expressed through filmic representation of music performances and artists/groups portraits. By applying a critical and comparative approach, the films Buena Vista Social Club (1999) and Café de los Maestros (2008) become vehicles to investigate images and sounds of music in everyday life, with an emphasis on the impact of globalization and commercialization during their creation and interpretation procedures. The focus is on the commercial exploitation of these films in the context of world capitalism and the way in which it influences the construction of visual representations of non-European musical cultures and identities, as cultural industry shares today a comparable postmodern situation through the concepts of “world music” and “world cinema”. In this light, the paper discusses Latin American (Cuban and Argentine) identities and local music cultures which spread internationally via films and gain a place in the global music scene. Consequently, it points towards issues of authenticity, nostalgia, exoticism, hybridity, folklorization, and the Western domination upon musics as well as films.

Globalization has prompted a multicultural retheorization of both consumer and market (Fu et al., 2014; Riefler et al., 2012; Kipnis et al., 2019). In short, the Canadian multicultural market consists of international goods which are authentic, domestic goods purporting authenticity (e.g., orientalizing), and multinational, fusion innovations that are authentic-ish (e.g., self-orientalizing; Hui, 2019; Li, 2020; Stephens, 2021). What results is a fetishistic commercialization of multiculturalism, where brands are packaging ethnicity and race to vie for consumer attention. This paper addresses the latter variety — self-orientalist packaging designed for products born out of (formerly) Chinese Canadian enterprises, namely Wong Wing Fried Rice. Developing an analytical and theoretical approach that can support the identification of racialization, racist typologies are situated in graphic design. Themes derived from the analysis include racism, orientalism, self-orientalism, exoticism, cultural appropriation, among others. Findings reveal how self-orientalist packaging and label design is discursively negotiated as both internalized racism and anti-racist resistance, necessitating a more nuanced approach that reflects the sociopolitical context in which products are branded. The adoption of transversalist tenets, an anti-racist modality outlined by the methodological component of this study, presents one possibility.

The paper aims to explore Multimedia as a cognitive tool to enhance the study of appropriated texts of Nigeria and the sociolinguistic reasons behind appropriating the English language to carry the native's experiences. The writers of Nigeria deploy the strategies to reconstruct Africa's taunted imageries and cultures. An ethnographic study exposes the strategic method of representing authentic versions through abrogation. The article examines and re-evaluates, identified resistant strains that are consciously or unconsciously integrated in the texts, according to their level of contact with the English language to ensure their text's authenticity. The palm-wine Drinkard and Purple Hibiscus are the texts(novel) representing the first and third generation of Nigerian authors selected for the study. Bakhtin’s theory on Heteroglossia and dialogism also analyses the selected novels. The novelists resist the hegemonic speech pattern to incorporate indigenous practices within their utterances. Multimedia as a tool can enrich the cognitive process in comprehending the appropriated texts. A Quasi-experimental research design was used to evaluate the comprehensive capacity of tertiary learners before and after using Multimedia to capture the quintessence of an indigenised novel. While some may criticize Appropriation as a market-driven exoticism, it has successfully fashioned familiarization of Indigenized culture, rather than alienating the knowledge about it using multimedia.

The paper aims to examine images of Marrakech in travel literature and their relevance to and impact on tourism. Many of the pioneer works conducted by painters, writers or simply adventurers from the 17th century to the beginning of 20th century depict Morocco as a no man’s land; a country inhabited by savage, fierce looking men, living in a primitive, atavistic society. Their customs, beliefs, and behavior were exotic if not weird and therefore deserving anthropological research. Women were also subjects of much conjecture and criticism. They were often depicted behind barred windows, and closed doors, subservient, walking non- entities, draped in ‘haiks’ and veiled. They existed only for the pleasure of men. These stereotypes continue to inflame the imagination of tourists heading to Marrakech today. In this connection, Jemaa Elfna is considered the heart and soul of the city particularly because it caters to the fantasies of the tourists looking for exoticism. My purpose is to demystify the place and critique what it stands for. The snake charmers, henna ladies, disguised prostitution and homosexuality, con dentists and monkey trainers, who populate the place, in no way reflect the richness and authenticity of the country or the hospitality of the people

All major cities have a unique ‘atmosphere’ that influences inhabitants and visitors, and that shapes ideas and objects related to it. The identity of a city is a social construct, and this symbolic, imaginary construct is associated with a specific local production system. With its heritage combining Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman elements and its contemporary urban life, Istanbul is recognized as one of the world’s cultural capitals. Turkey, on the other hand, is one of the world’s leading textile-manufacturing countries, with the majority of products made in and around Istanbul. This is noteworthy at a time when the consumer fashion industry simultaneously is drawing on discourses of exoticism, the primitive, orientalism and authenticity, one factor underlying the breakdown of the monopoly of Milan, Paris, New York and London on fashion. Drawing on primary research undertaken through semi-structured interviews with designers, social media specialists and textile engineers in Turkey, this article provides an overview of the contemporary Turkish fashion industry with a focus on neo-Ottoman style. The article begins by evaluating Istanbul’s contemporary fashion industry and continues with how fashion produced in Istanbul affects Istanbul’s image worldwide, and finally explains how Istanbul reciprocally affects the designs created in this city.

This research aims to inquire into the concept of sustainable tourism development currently taking place in tourism villages in Indonesia, added with the criteria of social complexity of the locals in the digital era. With a qualitative approach, this research obtained samples of the people of Inner Inner Baduy – Banten, Tenganan Pegringsingan – Bali, and Wonokitri – Tengger. Observation, in-depth interviews, and Focus Group Discussion were also performed to gain validated data, which were further analyzed based on SWOT to help formulate the strategies for sustainable tourism village development. The research results indicate that there was disharmony between the policies of the state and the economy of the Adat peoples, cultural exoticism and modernity, economic development, and the culture of adat tourism. Therefore, the process of planning and setting the criteria for sustainable tourism development should take into account the complexity and social diversity. Furthermore, a Plan for Digital Inclusion for adat people needs to be developed. The contribution of this research is expected to help reduce the disharmony of interest in the development of adat tourism villages and bring about the concept of sustainable tourism development to boost the authenticity of adat villages that correspond with their uniqueness in the digital era.

Bernard Cohn once called the imperial point of view the “view from the boat”. There were other boats as well.In 1893, the sovereign state of Johor adopted the OttomanMedjelle (Meḏj̱elle-yi Aḥkām-i˚ḥʿAdliyye, the civil code applied in the Ottoman Empire since 1877), being the only state among the Muslim sultanates of the Malay Peninsula to do so. In 1895, Johor promulgated a Constitution(Undang-Undang Tubuh Kerajaan Johor), being the first state in Southeast Asia to do so. This article takes this moment, of the intersection of two types of law from quite disparate sources, as a point of departure for tracing the pathways by which law made its way from one corner of the globe to another. Taking nineteenth century Johor as our vantage point provides a new optic for mapping law's geography and temporality and for exploring the logics of law's itinerancy and its locality. The travels of law were always material, and often embodied; on ships sailing the Indian Ocean between Johor and Cairo were diplomats, merchants, pilgrims, and lawyers faced with new pressures and new possibilities; in the growing traffic in letters and newspaper reports between London and New York, Tokyo and Constantinople, were debates about empire and culture, power and authenticity; in personal relationships made possible by the technologies of nineteenth century cosmopolitanism, were similarly worldly dramas of deception and demands for justice. In the 2 short years between the adoption of theMedjelleand the Constitution in Johor, the sultan of Johor, Abu Bakar (1833–1895), typified this mobility and interconnection. In his travels across the Indian Ocean to the Near East and Europe; in his appearance in diplomatic communiques in London, Constantinople and Washington D.C.; in his prominence as a figure of exoticism and intrigue in the newspapers and the courts of the English-speaking world, the sultan not only embodied law's movements in a figurative way, he was also himself a key carrier of the law, and one of its signal articulators.

Imperialism and colonialism have spawned research centers that examine the parts of the world that they control. Through these centers, orientalists work to discuss, write, produce and perform the Eastern world on the stage of Western culture. Authenticity, exoticism and grandeur of the East are dismantled, stripped down, doubted and elusive. Through orientalist goggles, the East is produced as a "hybrid" form; no more pure and original East. East is used as a storage or projection of their own unfamiliar (read: the West) aspects, such as crime, moral decadence, and so on. On the other hand, the East is seen as a dazzling world of exotic and full of mystical seductions. Meanwhile, unlike the orientalism that was originally intended as a serious study of the cultures to legitimize Western colonial powers in the Eastern world, occidentalism is precisely born from the methodological problems of orientalism which is said to be objective. Whereas behind the objectivity is stored Western interests to dominate, rearrange, and control the East. Orientalism has sparked nativist intellectuals to question the validity of orientalist works in constructing Eastern stereotypes. It cannot be denied then that these two discourses - Orientalism and Occidentalism - are in a position between the clashes and the global cultural dialogue.Keywords: Orientalism, oxidentalism, imperialism, colonialism, conf­­lict, dialogue Imperialisme dan kolonialisme telah melahirkan pusat-pusat studi dan kajian yang menelaah belahan dunia yang dikuasainya. Melalui pusat-pusat kajian inilah, para orientalis bekerja untuk memperbincangkan, menulis, memproduksi dan mempertunjukkan dunia Timur di atas panggung kebudayaan Barat. Keaslian, keeksotisan dan keagungan Timur dibongkar, dipreteli, diragukan dan dibuat samar-samar. Melalui kacamata orientalis, Timur diproduksi sebagai suatu bentuk “hibrida”; tidak ada lagi Timur yang murni dan orisinal. Timur dijadikan tempat penyimpanan atau proyeksi dari aspek-aspek mereka sendiri (baca: Barat) yang tidak diakuinya, seperti kejahatan, dekadensi moral, dan lain-lain. Pada sisi lain, Timur dipandang sebagai dunia mempesonakan dari yang eksotis dan penuh dengan rayuan-rayuan mistis. Sementara itu, berbeda halnya dengan orientalisme yang sejak semula dimaksudkan sebagai kajian serius politik-budaya untuk melegitimasi kekuatan-kekuatan kolonial Barat di dunia Timur, oksidentalisme justeru lahir dari problem metodologis orientalisme yang katanya obyektif. Padahal di balik keobyektifan itu tersimpan kepentingan-kepentingan Barat untuk mendominasi, menata kembali, dan menguasai Timur. Orientalisme telah memicu para intelektual nativis untuk mempertanyakan keabsahan (validitas) karya-karya para orientalis dalam membangun stereotip-stereotip ketimuran. Maka tidak dapat dipungkiri kemudian bahwa dua wacana ini — orientalisme dan oksidentalisme — berada dalam posisi di antara benturan dan dialogisme budaya global.Kata-kata kunci: orientalisme, oksidentalisme, imperialisme, kolo­nialisme, benturan, dialog

AbstractOver the past few years Mr. Polska, a Dutch rapper of Polish origin, has been enjoying a growing popularity in the Netherlands. Mr. Polska uses his Polish roots to position himself on the Dutch music scene and creates a persona that leans heavily on essentialised and exoticised stereotypes about Poland and the Polish. This article tries to answer two questions: what kind of image of Poland and the Poles is being created here? What purpose does it serve? It argues that negative stereotypes used in a multicultural environment acquire a new, positive meaning and play an important role in building the artist's image. The article further explores the post-subcultural character of Mr. Polska's project. It demonstrates that Mr. Polska's objective is not so much political engagement, as was usually the case with the traditional subcultural scene, but rather to confirm his authenticity and build his subcultural capital. Finally, Mr. Polska's use of a hip-hop aesthetic in combination with exoticised Polishness will be discussed.

Purpose Under the growing preference for ethnic food and an increase in ethnic restaurants, it is crucial to understand the value of restaurants gaining a competitive edge for their customers. Therefore, this study aims to investigate how exposure to the servicescape affects the formation of emotion and behavior. Design/methodology/approach This study is based on online survey results pertaining to the servicescape of ethnic restaurants and diners’ evaluations of their experience. The survey items were developed from previous related literature. For accurate data collection, the survey respondents were limited to consumers who had dined in an ethnic restaurant at least once within the previous six months. Findings The results reveal that substantive and communicative servicescape had a positive influence on both exoticism and authenticity; moreover, exoticism positively affected authenticity. In turn, exoticism and authenticity had a positive influence on place attachment. It also appears that place attachment positively affected experience intensification and extension. Practical implications The findings of this study are expected to contribute to competitive management strategies to expand ethnic restaurants. Based on the results, managerial strategies will be set up, focusing on which aspects should receive attention to ensure the intensification and extension of diners’ experiences at ethnic restaurants. Originality/value There has been very little research on ethnic restaurants in relation to the integrated relationship between servicescape, authenticity, place attachment and postexperience behavior. This study assumes that the overall service experience of customers of ethnic restaurants can be perceived and evaluated based on substantive and communicative servicescape and that such restaurants can benefit by understanding the specific factors that will give them a competitive edge in running their business.

While relationships between food and tourism have been extensively investigated in recent decades, the Faroe Islands is a lesser studied food destination. This article analyses the specificities of restaurant scene in the context of food tourism in Tórshavn, the capital of the Faroe Islands, based on the official promotion of the dining landscape. The authors specifically discuss how the remote Arctic destination of Tórshavn positions itself as a culinary destination based on concepts of authenticity, exoticism, sustainability and innovation. Results show that the small and isolated capital of Tórshavn balances the exoticism of traditional Faroese food experiences with more generic international flavors and urban spaces. Hence, the case opens interesting perspectives on the negotiations of the local and the global in contemporary food tourism marketing of remote island destinations.

Meat alternatives may play an important role in sustainable food transitions. However, numerous barriers to the increased consumption of these products have been identified. This paper explores the consumption of meat alternatives in relation to ‘foodyism’, understood here as contemporary discourses and practices of gourmet food glorifying ‘exoticism’ and ‘authenticity’. Foodyism can be viewed as a relevant cultural barrier to the increased uptake of meat alternatives, especially due to its adherence to the notion of authenticity. The paper argues that the cultural and symbolic tension between foodyism and meat alternatives must be sufficiently resolved if meat alternatives are to play a key role in sustainable food transitions. Accordingly, inspired by practice theoretical approaches in consumption research, and based on an analysis of qualitative data collected in Finland in 2020 through an online questionnaire (N=448, of which 49 were included in the final analysis), the paper focuses on describing the reconciliation of foodyism and meat alternatives already evident in the food-related practices of food practitioners. The performances of reconciliation described in this paper are characterised by ‘looking beyond individual ingredients’, ‘laborious and skilful cooking’, and the meanings of home food and creativity. The results suggest that the ways of ‘doing foodyism’ may be changing in the wake of the current ecological crises, and the paper argues that the new patterns are worth advocating in efforts to advance the practical and symbolic acceptance of meat alternatives.

“In the performing arts the very absence of a complete score, i.e., of a complete duplicate, enables music, dances and plays to survive. The tension created by the adaptation of a work of yesterday to the style of today is an essential part of the history of the art in progress” (Rudolf Arnheim, “On Duplication”). In his essay “On Duplication”, Rudolf Arnheim proposes the idea that a close look at the life of adaptations indicates that change is not only necessary and inevitable, but also increases our understanding of the adapted work. To Arnheim, the most fruitful approach to adaptations is therefore to investigate the ways in which the various re-interpretations partake of the (initial) work and concretise latent aspects in a new historical and cultural context. This article analyzes how, and to what ends, the re-contextualising of Georges Bizet’s Carmen in other media—flamenco dance and film – changes, distorts and subverts our perception of the opera’s music. The text under analysis is Carlos Saura’s 1983 movie about a flamenco transposition of Bizet’s Carmen. I discuss this film in terms of how flamenco music and dance, on the one hand, and the film camera, on the other hand, gradually demystify the fascinating power of Bizet’s music, as well as its clichéd associations. Although these forms displace and defamiliarise music in many ways, the main argument of the analysis centers on how flamenco dance and the film image foreground the artificiality of the exotic sections from Bizet’s opera, as well as their inadequacy in the Spanish context, and also on how the film translates and self-reflexively comments on the absence of an embodied voice for Carmen. “C’est la Carmen! Non, ce n’est pas celle-là!” As the credits from Carlos Saura’s Carmen are displayed against the backdrop of Gustave Doré’s drawings, we can hear the chorus of the cigarières from Bizet’s opera singing “C’est la Carmen! Non, ce n’est pas celle-là!”. Why did the director choose this particular section of Bizet’s Carmen with which to begin his film? Moreover, what is the significance of combining Doré’s drawings with these words? In a way, we can say that the reality/illusion polarity signified by the sung words informs and gives a preview of one of the movie’s main themes—the futility of an adapter’s attempt at finding a “true” Carmen. The music’s juxtaposition with Doré’s drawings of nineteenth-century espagnolades adds to the idea of artifice and inauthenticity: Saura seems to be dismissing Bizet’s music by pairing it with the work of another one of the creators of a stereotyped (and false) image of Spain. Demystifying the untrue image that foreigners have created of Spain is one of the film director’s main concerns in his adaptation of both Bizet and Mérimée’s Carmen. The movie’s production history reinforces this idea. In his book on the films of Carlos Saura, Marvin D’Lugo notes that in 1981 the French company Gaumont had approached Saura with the project of making a filmed version of Bizet’s Carmen, “with a maximum of fidelity to the original text” (202), an idea which the director clearly rejected. Another important aspect related to the production history is the fact that Antonio Gadés, the film’s choreographer and actor for Don José’s part, had previously created a ballet version of Bizet’s Carmen, based solely on the second act of the opera. The 1983 film production is then the result of Carlos Saura—the film director attempting to reframe the French opera in the Spanish context—and Antonio Gadés—the flamenco troupe director—collaborating to create a Spanish dance version of Carmen. The film’s constant superimposition of its two diegetic levels—the fictional level, consisting in the rehearsal scenes, and the actual level, which coincides with the characters’ lives outside of and in-between rehearsals—and the constant blurring of the lines separating these two worlds, have been the cause of a plethora of varying interpretations. Susan McClary sees the movie as “a brilliant commentary on ‘exoticism’: on the distance between actual ethnic music and the mock-ups Bizet and others produced for their own ideological purposes” (137); to D’Lugo, the film is an illustration and critique of how “the Spaniards, having come under the spell of the foreign, imposter impression of Spain, find themselves seduced by the falsification of their own cultural past” (203). Other notable interpretations come from Marshall H. Leicester, who sees the film as a comment on the fact that Carmen has become a discourse and a cultural artifact, and from Linda M. Willem, who interprets the movie as a metafictional mise en abyme. I will discuss the movie from a somewhat different perspective, bearing in mind, however, McClary and D’Lugo’s readings. Saura’s Carmen is also a story about adaptation, constantly commenting on the failed attempts at perfect fidelity to the source text(s), by the intradiegetic adapter (Antonio) and, at the same time, self-reflexively embedding hints to the presence of the extradiegetic adapter: the filmmaker Saura. On the one hand, as juxtaposed with flamenco music and dance, the opera’s music is made to appear artificial and inadequate; we are presented with an adaptation in the making, in which many of the oddities and difficulties of transposing opera music to flamenco dance are problematised. On the other hand, the film camera, by constantly foregrounding the movie’s materiality—the possibility to cut and edit the images and the soundtrack, its refusal to maintain a realist illusion—displaces and re-codifies music in other contexts, thus bringing to light dormant interpretations of particular sections of Bizet’s opera, or completely altering their significance. One of the film’s most significant departures from Bizet’s opera is the problematised absence of a suitable Carmen character. Bizet’s opera, however revolves around Carmen: it is very hard, if not impossible, to dissociate the opera from the fascinating Carmen personage. Her transgressive nature, her “otherness” and exoticism, are translated in her singing, dancing and bodily presence on the stage, all these leading to the creation of a character that cannot be neglected. The songs that Bizet adapted from the cabaret numéros in order to add exotic flavor to the music, as well as the provocative dances accompanying the Habaňera and the Seguidilla help create this dimension of Carmen’s fascinating power. It is through her singing and dancing that she becomes a true enchantress, inflicting madness or unreason on the ones she chooses to charm. Saura’s Carmen has very few of the charming attributes of her operatic predecessor. Antonio, however, becomes obsessed with her because she is close to his idea of Carmen. The film foregrounds the immense gap between the operatic Carmen and the character interpreted by Laura del Sol. This double instantiation of Carmen has usually been interpreted as a sign of the demystification of the stereotyped and inauthentic image of Bizet’s character. Another way to interpret it could be as a comment on one of the inevitable losses in the transposition of opera to dance: the separation of the body from the voice. Significantly, the recorded music of Bizet’s opera accompanies more the scenes between rehearsals than the flamenco dance sections, which are mostly performed on traditional Spanish music. The re-codification of the music reinforces the gap between Saura and Gadés’ Carmen and Bizet’s character. The character interpreted by Laura del Sol is not a particularly gifted dancer; therefore, her dance translation of the operatic voice fails to convey the charm and self-assuredness that Carmen’s voice and the sung words fully express. Moreover, the musical and dance re-insertion in a Spanish context completely removes the character’s exoticism and alterity. We could say, rather, that in Saura’s movie it is the operatic Carmen who is becoming exotic and distant. In one of the movie’s first scenes, we are shown an image of Paco de Lucia and a group of flamenco singers as they play and sing a traditional Spanish song. This scene is abruptly interrupted by Bizet’s Seguidilla; immediately after, the camera zooms in on Antonio, completely absorbed by the opera, which he is playing on the tape-recorder. The contrast between the live performance of the Spanish song and the recorded Carmen opera reflects the artificiality of the latter. The Seguidilla is also one of the opera’s sections that Bizet adapted so that it would sound authentically exotic, but which was as far from authentic traditional Spanish music as any of the songs that were being played in the cabarets of Paris in the nineteenth century. The contrast between the authentic sound of traditional Spanish music, as played on the guitar by Paco de Lucia, and Bizet’s own version makes us aware, more than ever, of the act of fabrication underlying the opera’s composition. Most of the rehearsal scenes in the movie are interpreted on original flamenco music, Bizet’s opera appearing mostly in the scenes associated with Antonio, to punctuate the evolution of his love for Carmen and to reinforce the impossibility of transposing Bizet’s music to flamenco dance without making significant modifications. This also signifies the mesmerising power the operatic music has on Antonio’s imagination, gradually transposing him in a universe of understanding completely different from that of his troupe, a world in which he becomes unable to distinguish reality from illusion. With Antonio’s delusion, we are reminded of the luring powers of the operatic fabrication. One of the scenes which foregrounds the opera’s charm is when Antonio watches the dancers led by Cristina rehearse some flamenco movements. While watching their bodies reflected in the mirror, Antonio is dissatisfied with their appearance—he doesn’t see any of them as Carmen. The scene ends with an explosion of Bizet’s music heard from off-screen—probably as Antonio keeps hearing it in his head—dramatically symbolising the great distance between flamenco dance and opera music. One of the rehearsal scenes in which Bizet’s music is heard as an accompaniment to the dance is the scene in which the operatic Carmen performs the castaňet dance for Don José. In the Antonio-Carmen interpretation the music that we hear is the Habaňera and not the seductive song that Bizet’s Carmen is singing at this point in the opera. According to Mary Blackwood Collier, the Habaňera song in the opera has the function to define Carmen’s personality as strong, independent, free and enthralling at the same time (119). The purely instrumental Habaňera, combined with the lyrical and tender dance duo of Antonio/José and Carmen in Saura’s film, transforms the former into a sweet love theme. In the opera, this is one of the arias that centralise the image of Carmen in our perception. The dance transposition as a love pas de deux diminishes the impression of freedom and independence connoted by the song’s words and displaces the centrality of Carmen. Our perception of the opera’s music is significantly reshaped by the film camera too. In her book The Hollywood Musical Jane Feuer contends that the use of multiple diegesis in the backstage musical has the function to “mirror within the film the relationship of the spectator to the film. Multiple diegesis in this sense parallels the use of an internal audience” (68). Carlos Saura’s movie preserves and foregrounds this function. The mirrors in which the dancers often reflect themselves hint to an external plane of observation (the audience). The artificial collapse of the boundaries between off-stage and on-stage scenes acts as a reminder of the film’s capacity to compress and distort temporality and chronology. Saura’s film makes full use of its capacity to cut and edit the image and the soundtracks. This allows for the mise-en-scène of meaningful displacements of Bizet’s music, which can be given new significations by the association with unexpected images. One of the sections of Bizet’s opera in the movie is the entr’acte music at the beginning of Act III. Whereas in the opera this part acts as a filler, in Saura’s Carmen it becomes a love motif and is heard several times in the movie. The choice of this particular part as a musical leitmotif in the movie is interesting if we consider the minimal use of Bizet’s music in Saura’s Carmen. Quite significantly however, this tune appears both in association with the rehearsal scenes and the off-stage scenes. It appears at the end of the Tabacalera rehearsal, when Antonio/Don José comes to arrest Carmen; we can hear it again when Carmen arrives at Antonio’s house the night when they make love for the first time and also after the second off-stage love scene, when Antonio gives money to Carmen. In general, this song is used to connote Antonio’s love for Carmen, both on and off stage. This musical bit, which had no particular significance in the opera, is now highlighted and made significant in its association with specific film images. Another one of the operatic themes that recur in the movie is the fate motif which is heard in the opening scene and also at the moment of Carmen’s death. We can also hear it when Carmen visits her husband in prison, immediately after she accepts the money Antonio offers her and when Antonio finds her making love to Tauro. This re-contextualisation alters the significance of the theme. As Mary Blackwood Collier remarks, this motif highlights Carmen’s infidelity rather than her fatality in the movie (120). The repetition of this motif also foregrounds the music’s artificiality in the context of the adaptation; the filmmaker, we are reminded, can cut and edit the soundtrack as he pleases, putting music in the service of his own artistic designs. In Saura’s Carmen, Bizet’s opera appears in the context of flamenco music and dance. This leads to the deconstruction and demystification of the opera’s pretense of exoticism and authenticity. The adaptation of opera to flamenco music and dance also implies a number of necessary alterations in the musical structure that the adapter has to perform so that the music will harmonise with flamenco dance. Saura’s Carmen, if read as an adaptation in the making, foregrounds many of the technical difficulties of translating opera to dance. The second dimension of music re-interpretation is added by the film camera. The embedded camera and the film’s self-reflexivity displace music from its original contexts, thus adding or creating new meanings to the ways in which we perceive it. This way of reframing the music from Bizet’s Carmen adds new dimensions to our perception of the opera. In many of the off-stage scenes, the music seems to appear from nowhere and, then, to inform other sequences than the ones with which it is usually associated in the opera. This produces a momentary disruption in the way we hear Bizet’s music. We could say that it is a very rapid process of de-signification and re-signification—that is, of adaptation—that we undergo almost automatically. Carlos Saura’s adaptation of Carmen self-reflexively puts into play the changes that Bizet’s music has to go through in order to become a flamenco dance and movie. In this process, dance and the film image make us aware of new meanings that we come to associate with Bizet’s score. References Arnheim, Rudolf. “On Duplication”. New Essays on the Psychology of Art. Berkeley: U of California P, 1986: 274-85. Blackwood Collier, Mary. La Carmen Essentielle et sa Réalisation au Spectacle. New York: Peter Lang Publishing, 1994. D’Lugo, Marvin. The Films of Carlos Saura: The Practice of Seeing. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1991. Feuer, Jane. “Dream Worlds and Dream Stages”. The Hollywood Musical. Bloomington, IN: Indiana UP, 1993: 67-87. Leicester, Marshall H. Jr. “Discourse and the Film Text: Four Readings of ‘Carmen’”. Cambridge Opera Journal 4.3 (1994): 245-82. McClary, Susan. “Carlos Saura: A Flamenco Carmen”. Georges Bizet: Carmen. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1992: 135-7. Willem, Linda M. “Metafictional Mise en Abyme in Saura’s Carmen”. Literature/Film Quarterly 24.3 (1996): 267-73. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Furnica, Ioana. "Subverting the “Good, Old Tune”: Carlos Saura’s Carmen." M/C Journal 10.2 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/10-furnica.php>. APA Style Furnica, I. (May 2007) "Subverting the “Good, Old Tune”: Carlos Saura’s Carmen," M/C Journal, 10(2). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/10-furnica.php>.

In 1981, Mattel introduced America’s first Asian Barbie as “Oriental Barbie”, described as “dainty and elegant … [in a] long, slender yellow dress”, with hair “pulled back to display her lovely face” (“Oriental Barbie”). Oriental Barbie is purportedly from Hong Kong, yet she is simultaneously marketed to represent the entire Orient in a homogenising, stigmatising manner that exemplifies Robert Park’s concept of the “racial uniform”. The back of Oriental Barbie’s box provides vague, generalising descriptions of “the Orient” that imply the purported superiority of the Occident: “in this part of the world, we eat rice with our meals rather than bread or potatoes. We use chopsticks for eating instead of knives and forks . … Chinese is a picture language … . Below are some examples for you to try” (“Dolls of the World Oriental”). Particularly with the invitation to “try” Chinese, Mattel invites consumers to participate in what Kevin Powell calls the “cultural safari”, a term that, broadly construed, suggests a “fascination with a facet of another’s culture” (Kasulis). Michael Kimmel notes that such fascination is safe precisely because “you can ‘take [the cultural experience] off’”. Although Mattel begins to produce ethnically specific Asian Barbies in 1982, Ann duCille remarks, “these quick-and-dirty ethnographies only enhance the extent to which these would-be multicultural dolls treat race and ethnic difference like collectibles, contributing more to commodity culture than to the intercultural awareness they claim to inspire” (“Dyes and dolls” 52-53). Because of this blatant cultural marginalisation of race and ethnicity that has been produced for years as a site of foreignness from within the predominantly cisgender, heterosexual, white United States and Barbie universe, I seek to explore how Mattel has perpetuated Orientalism through the production and marketing of Asian Barbies within their Dolls of the World series. The cultural marginalisation that Mattel creates through the marketing of Asian Barbies is accomplished under the pretense of increasing public knowledge and prompting intercultural awareness, which is stated on the back of Oriental Barbie’s box in a very literal interpretation of Powell’s cultural safari: “come visit the Orient. I know you will find it exotic and interesting”. The back of the box also contains a “miniature cultural history and language lessons” (duCille, “Black Barbie” 341) for the consumer to “try” with each doll from the Dolls of the World series. The particular “language lesson” featured with Oriental Barbie are Chinese characters that Mattel deems a fitting example of Chinese as a “picture language”. Interestingly enough, an exceedingly domestic overtone is at play with the selected characters: 媽 (mother), 爸 (father), 你 (“you”, but the masculine version of the pronoun), 房 (house), 玩 (play), 愛 (love), 喜 (joy), and 吃 (eat). The image of playing house and of a presumably heteronormative nuclear family seems to be strongly insinuated with this choice of characters. Furthermore, Mattel equates the Orient with “joy” by featuring the character 喜 (joy) alongside the word “Orient” on the front of the box. In observing the Oriental Barbie box, which states “Meet Barbie from Hong Kong” on the front and depicts the Hong Kong Dollar as “the Oriental currency” on the side, it is worth considering why Mattel chose Hong Kong as the home of Oriental Barbie. For one, Oriental Barbie is not entirely Asian in the sense that Hong Kong was occupied at the time of the doll’s release in 1981, which further complicates the issue of authenticity of racial and ethnic representation. Recalling the United States’ political relations with various Asian countries from the 1970s to the early 1980s may further contextualise Mattel’s decision to make Hong Kong the home of Oriental Barbie, as well as their choices behind which Asian countries to make an ethnic Barbie for. In the 1970s, Nixon’s ping-pong diplomacy had opened up previously fraught diplomatic relations between the U.S. and China. This change in diplomatic relations also facilitated increased cultural exchange between the two countries. In 1981—the year of Oriental Barbie’s debut and the year Reagan’s presidency began—Hong Kong was a popular U.S. tourist destination in Asia (Crouch 72-73). At the beginning of the 1980s, the Reagan administration’s decision to resist the Soviet Union also impacted on its diplomatic relations with Asian countries such as India, Japan, and China, each of which had varying opinions on how to deal with the U.S.S.R. (Greene 1). Despite differences in political stances, Mattel produced a Barbie for all three countries: India Barbie in 1982, Japanese Barbie in 1985, and Chinese Barbie over a decade later in 1994. Even 1994, the production year of Chinese Barbie, reflects the tensions between the U.S. and China in the early 1980s over the former’s arms sales to Taiwan and the two powers’ burgeoning partnership for “science and technology cooperation” in the 1990s (Minami 88). Contextualising Mattel’s potential reasoning for the particular production of these Asian Barbies allows us to understand why Mattel would want to offer educational content on these particular Asian “countries” (here a simulacrum with Oriental Barbie) to their primarily North-American based audience. Even then, Mattel’s intent to educate consumers through the reductiveness of their ethnographies contradicts itself, because the cultural marginalisation that results from the marketing and selling of Asian Barbies and the impact it has on the marginalised leads to a “self-contradiction inherent to the claims of civic functions (of furthering knowledge and enabling public enlightenment)—that accompany all imperialist establishments, even … apparently innocent ones” (Chow 95). Indeed, the “innocent” imperialist establishment of the child’s Barbie doll is not so innocent, as Jenny Wills reminds us: “sentimental, picturesque, and childhood playthings are not benign or devoid of serious racialized implications” (Wills 190). In fact, the name of “Oriental Barbie” or any other Asian Barbie “implies her difference, her not-quite-Barbieness”, which Wills first points out with the name of “Black Barbie”. Mattel demarcated a clear distinction between ethnic Barbies and white Barbies when it created and marketed the name of Oriental Barbie and other Asian Barbies. The positioning of Asian Barbies as an ethnic alternative thus creates what Wills calls a “scripted violence”, in which the relationship between white Barbie and ethnic Barbies “scripts racial inferiority upon those Other dolls and the subjects they are meant to celebrate and reflect” (Wills 189). The vitality of collecting ethnic Barbies as a business is deeply troubling, then, as it demonstrates both Mattel’s success in marketing Asian Barbies as an exoticised other and the many collectors who readily accept and contribute to this narrative. In fact, duCille reveals that “Mattel’s ethnic dolls — particularly those in its Dolls of the World series — are designed and marketed at least as much with adult collectors in mind as with little girls” (“Black Barbie” 339). Mattel media-relations director Donna Gibbs tells duCille that the ethnic dolls are actually marketed more towards adults, “‘although appropriate for children’” (“Black Barbie” 339). Gibbs lays out how Mattel strategically releases only “two or three different nations or cultures [for the Dolls of the World series] each year”, produces these “premium value” dolls in short supply in order to generate a competitive market for them, then retires them from the market after selling them for a mere one to two years (“Black Barbie” 339). Sure enough, Mattel’s marketing strategy proved successful: Westenhouser notes in The Story of Barbie that “the Oriental mold is a popular face mold to which collectors respond favorably” (Westenhouser 27). Because of Mattel’s strategic issuing of only two to three ethnic Barbies per year, “each year it becomes a collectors’ guessing game as to what countries will be this year’s additions” (Westenhouser 119). As a result, Mattel experienced a massive boost in sales through the marketing of the ethnic Barbie as a collectible. The treatment of race and ethnic difference as a commodified collectible rather than as genuine intercultural awareness is best evidenced by Mattel’s choice to produce Oriental Barbie—and all subsequent Asian Barbies, save for India Barbie—by using the same “Oriental Face Sculpt”. The “Oriental Face Sculpt” was introduced alongside the debut of Oriental Barbie in 1981, and although later productions of Asian Barbies in the Dolls of the World series expanded to specifically represent different Asian countries, such as Japan, China, and Korea, each Asian Barbie still used the same Oriental Face Sculpt. Augustyniak writes, “many new head molds have debuted since 1977, offering more variety and ethnic diversity” (8). When we observe the history of Barbie face sculpts, however, we find that many face sculpts have easily been produced of white Barbie over the years, with face sculpts even being made in honor of specific fashion designers or events, such as the 2013 Karl Lagerfeld, the 1991 Bob Mackie, and the 2008 Kentucky Derby. Meanwhile, the titular Barbie’s first two Asian friends both use the Oriental Sculpt: Miko (1986-1989), who is Pacific Islander (“Miko”) but was discontinued and replaced by Kira (1985-2001), who is allegedly of Japanese or Vietnamese heritage (“Kira”). These characters have only the Oriental Face Sculpt to represent their ethnic background, which itself remains ill-defined. With the plethora of face sculpts that have been produced over the years for white Barbies, one may be led to ponder why Mattel has not been willing to exert the same amount of effort to properly represent Asian Barbies. This is because for Mattel, profit always precedes any other motive, including racial and ethnic representation. As duCille explains, “the cost of mass-producing dolls to represent the heterogeneity of the world would be far greater than either corporation or consumer would be willing to pay” (“Black Barbie” 337). Hence, in order to generate profit, “racial and cultural diversity — global heterogeneity — must be reducible to … common, reproducible denominators” (“Black Barbie” 340). The Oriental Face Sculpt, then, is a result of all the “common, reproducible denominators” that Mattel deemed financially profitable enough to use as their attempt at racial and ethnic representation. The way that Mattel markets ethnic and cultural differences for Asian Barbies in addition to the use of the Oriental Face Sculpt, then, is through variations in skin colour and dress. For instance, Japanese Barbie, Korean Barbie, and Chinese Barbie all use the same Oriental Face Sculpt. The only notable differences between these dolls are the colour of their skin, the clothes that they wear, and their hairstyle. Indeed, duCille writes, while “today Barbie dolls come in a rainbow coalition of colors, races, ethnicities, and nationalities, all of those dolls look remarkably like the stereotypical white Barbie, modified only by a dash of color and a change of clothes” (Skin Trade 38). The uniformness of modularity with face sculpts, coupled with Mattel’s paltry efforts of merely altering the skin colour and clothing of each Asian Barbie, exemplifies Immanuel Wallerstein’s argument that “ethnicization must … be linked to the racism specific to the operations of modern capitalism with its twin objectives of maximizing profits and minimizing production costs” (qtd. in Chow 34). As a corporate giant, Mattel would not be enticed by the idea of adding “more complex, less easily commodified distinctions”, because these distinctions would require additional forms of manufacturing that complicate production and thus do not maximise profits for the corporate body (“Black Barbie” 340). Consequently, “ethnic reproductions [of Asian Barbies] ... simply [melt down and add on] a reconstituted other without transforming the established social order, without changing the mould” (“Black Barbie” 337-8). Mattel’s failure to provide racial and ethnic representation through Asian Barbies is best demonstrated, however, by a case study of India Barbie. India Barbie was released in 1982 as one of the first Asian Barbies, following the 1981 release of Oriental Barbie. Interestingly enough, India Barbie is the only Asian Barbie who was not created with the Oriental Face Sculpt. Instead, she has the Steffie face mold, which has been used with dolls such as: the titular Barbara Millicent Roberts, Midge, and Summer, who are all white; Teresa, who was introduced as Barbara’s first Latina friend in 1988; Christie, who became the first black Barbie in 1980 (“Steffie”); Hawaiian Barbie (1975) (Westenhouser 135); and Mexican Barbie (1989) (Westenhouser 121). Therefore, Mattel created India Barbie with a racially and ethnically ambiguous face sculpt that has also been used to depict white Barbies, which demonstrates the “relational proximity (or similarity) to [India Barbie’s] white doll counterparts” (Wills 189). The sari that India Barbie wears is additionally problematic in that it is worn inaccurately. Further, on the back side of the India Barbie (1982) box we see exoticising and othering language that insinuates the superiority of the Occident, as is the case for Oriental Barbie’s introduction. The way in which India Barbie is dressed with her sari is a far cry from how the sari is properly worn. What is also of interest is that India Barbie is wearing red and gold, which are colours typically only worn at Indian weddings. This sartorial choice may, at a first glance, be interpreted as yet another culturally insensitive blunder of Mattel’s, but when India Barbie’s outfit is considered alongside Japanese Barbie, who wears a red wedding kimono, and Malaysian Barbie, who also wears the semblance of a wedding garment, these choices of outfit begin to call into question why Mattel repeatedly decides to dress Asian Barbies in wedding attire. Mattel’s affinity for dressing Asian Barbies in bridal outfits can likely be explained by the corporation’s sales of wedding-affiliated Barbies, which have been some of the historically best-selling dolls in the Barbie universe. In the image caption for the Wedding Day Set (1959), which features the first Barbie wedding gown, Westenhouser notes, “always the top selling [Barbie] garment … is the wedding gown” (32). In Westenhouser’s view, Barbies wearing wedding gowns remain the best seller each year (32) because “every little girl dreams of the perfect romantic wedding and Barbie makes that fairytale come alive” (32). From a capitalist standpoint, then, Mattel is simply capitalising upon the supposedly widespread demand for Barbies in wedding dresses, and Mattel can only further ensure the financial success of Asian Barbies by choosing to dress Barbies such as India Barbie in semblances of wedding attire, even if these outfits are not culturally accurate or fully representative. Aside from the matter of dressing India Barbie in a red and gold sari, there is also the question of why Mattel chooses to focus on descriptions of Asian Barbies’ hair so heavily, including that of India Barbie. For instance, with the India Barbie and Japanese Barbie, Mattel uses nearly identical phrasing of the doll’s hair being pulled back to reveal the “delicate features” of her face. India Barbie’s description reads: “her long brown hair is pulled back, accenting her delicate features” (“India Barbie”), while Japanese Barbie’s description reads: “her black hair is pulled away from her face and tied with a red and white hairband” (“Japanese Barbie”). This diction first appears in Oriental Barbie’s product description, and it is especially interesting to consider why Mattel might emphasise the entirety of an Asian Barbie’s face being shown, almost as if to suggest that her face is so exotic that it needs to be fully on display for the consumer to get a proper look at the exotic “other’s” face. It seems that with Mattel’s emphasis on the entirety of the Asian Barbie’s face being revealed, ethnicity becomes “the site of a foreignness” that is a privileged society’s way of “projecting into some imaginary outside elements it seems foreign and inferior” (Chow 34-5). Throughout our case study of numerous Asian Barbies, Mattel’s portrayal of racial and ethnic difference has always been in a highly performative manner that has only been superficially signified through changes in skin colour and dress and the near-perpetual use of the exoticising Oriental Face Sculpt. These othering and fetishising attempts at multicultural representation create, as Wills argues, “exoticized difference, of deferred subjectivity; racial progressiveness [that] can be purchased and played with” (Wills 189) then cast off, as Powell’s notion of the cultural safari allows us to understand. Critically, Mattel markets these Orientalist depictions of racial, ethnic, and cultural identity as “marketable difference[s]” (Wills 189) that the white consumer can supposedly try on with ease and just as easily remove. Thus, with the production and marketing of Asian Barbies and other ethnic dolls, Mattel never truly accomplishes a healthy and helpful extension of the individual child as Ruth Handler envisioned all Barbies to be—instead, the corporate body only perpetuates a narrative of racial inferiority and the casting of Asian Barbie dolls (and, by extension, the Asian cultures, geographical locations, and populations that Mattel claims to represent) as the Other. References Augustyniak, J. Michael. Collector’s Encyclopedia of Barbie Doll Exclusives: Identification & Values, 1972-2004. Collector Books, 2005. 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