The Truman Show and Commodifying the White American Dream

I recently watched The Truman Show for the first time in at least eight years. Just as when I was a kid, I loved the weird “what if '' type plot and Jim Carry’s ~quirky~ everyman persona. However, in this watch-through, I noticed a lot of things I missed as a child, significantly, the film’s major themes of consumerism and capitalism and the larger implications of the story beyond just the pitfalls of reality TV.

Before we get into the thick of it, I figure I should give a brief summary of the movie’s plot. Spoilers ahead. So, if you don’t want to hear how Dumbledore dies, click away now. Alright, I warned you.

The Truman Show takes place on Seahaven Island, an entirely manufactured town in the middle of Los Angeles. Our main character, Truman, is raised in this fake town, where everyone around him is an actor pretending to be his family, friend, or colleague. The movie makes it clear that Truman is a dreamer. He dreams of traveling to other countries in the world, most significantly, Fiji. Truman’s wife, Meryl, and best friend, Marlon (both actors who are paid to embody these roles), help guide him in his decision making. We later learn that Truman’s real desire to go to Fiji stems from a girl he fell in love with in college who said she was from Fiji. This woman, named Lauren, is actually an actor who rebelled against the show once she realized how cruel it was to control a man's entire life. Throughout the movie, we see Truman begin to realize that his life is fabricated in several instances where the cast and crew of the show mess up, for example, when a studio light falls from the sky, or when Truman’s car radio accidentally connects to the station that the crew is communicating on. These odd realizations continue until Truman becomes fully unhinged and attempts to escape the set. After many difficult attempts, Truman finally sails a boat off the island, reaches the end of the set, and walks out of the studio and into the real world, presumably to find Lauren and start living his own life.

The film does a great job of satirizing reality TV and the consumerist mentality fans buy into. In my watch-through, I was really impressed by the way it made you both love and hate the fans that tuned in to watch the show. If they had all stood up to the production company, this show would have never been made. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel that I’d do the same if I was in their position. Although what was done to Truman was intuitively wrong, it’s very easy to buy into such a scheme when Truman was essentially presented as a product and not a person. This brings about the major theme of consumerism.

Just in the first twenty minutes of the film, viewers will be astonished by the sheer number of conveniently placed advertisements for chicken, knives, beer … you name it. Beyond its viewership, the Truman Show makes money off of advertisements. The viewers buy into these products because they buy into the overall product: Truman and his “idyllic” life. Everything around Truman is manufactured to represent the white American dream: white picket fence, a beautiful and caring wife, a decent career with financial stability.

I say “white” because, well, number one, there are very few Black people shown in the film or included on set outside of Truman’s neighbors (likely serving as a representation of the token Black family we often see in media to show “inclusivity”). Number two, the sets and costuming are very reflective of the 1950s, giving the audience a feeling of nostalgia for a simpler time. However, the 1950s aesthetic reflected in Truman’s life really only represents the nice, manicured streets of white suburbia, making it nostalgic only for those who were privileged enough to have that upbringing. The show neglects to include the Black and Brown realities of the 1950s, and I’d argue that most representations of the era are seen through a very white lens as well. In “Standard White: Dismantling White Normativity,” Michael Morris describes this tendency to view whiteness as the norm or ideal, where “in many different arenas, U.S. society assumes that white people, particularly middle-class white men, are a neutral or standard category of human beings” (Morris 956). In this same way, the writers and directors of The Truman Show present Truman as a kind of likeable “everyman” who lives an idyllic life.

In her article “Nothing Sells like Whiteness: Race, Ontology, and American Advertising,” Dr. Shalini Shankar writes “the ideal of whiteness...has been the tried-and-true basis for centuries of successful American advertising. Middle-class whiteness and its lifestyle preoccupations set the agenda for all other echelons of society” (Shankar 112). Just like in The Truman Show, the attractive presentation of the nuclear family and well-maintained suburbs in the media has created a white-washed image of America to international audiences that does not represent the reality. That’s why I think it’s so significant that The Truman Show includes this racialized element. It makes you think more about what kind of content is marketed towards us and, more importantly, who gets to be represented in that content.

Truman’s personality and relationships have been entirely manufactured to make him appealing to many audiences. He’s humble but still confident. He’s interesting, but not too interesting, as that would divert from the plot. His wife is sweet and submissive. His best friend is humorous and disarming. Overall, they seem happy. Because Truman’s life is mostly one of performative happiness and routine, audiences and fans are then subconsciously persuaded that the products Truman buys will also make them happy if they buy them (or at least that’s what the producers are betting on).

Sound familiar?

I’ve had a difficult experience with social media, especially Instagram, because I realized that I was following influencers who were being paid to seem relatable, fun, and adventurous. In reality, the images I saw on social media were likely edited, exaggerated projections of people's lives. No one is constantly smiling and #livingtheirbestlife sitting in a brand new car or a coffee shop or some exotic destination. How many times have I bought into products that I thought would make me as happy as these influencers? The answer is too many times. In the age of rapid production and innovation, we have been programmed to look for the next product to bring us joy. That’s why I said I could relate to these Truman Show megafans. Because I buy into things I’m told will bring me joy, too. I am also a consumer.

Just like Truman’s beliefs were formed from what he was told, society’s beliefs about the show were also constructed because of the way Truman and his life were framed. The dilemma here is that regardless of how happy someone is in an artificially controlled life, it’s exactly that: artificial. There’s no sense of agency or freedom in a life that is predetermined not according to oneself, but by a writing team and director. By the end of Truman’s journey, the audience also finally becomes aware of the tragedy of Truman’s life.

There’s a message here: conscious consumerism. And before you jump the gun, I get it - “tHeRe is No eTHicAl cOnsUMptiOn UndER CApiTALisM.” At the same time, we are responsible for checking ourselves and the way that the media we consume and products we buy alter or affect our values. The Truman Show’s “what-if” scenario would not have been possible without the consumers’ willingness to be bystanders to this tragedy. In that same regard, we cannot always accept trends just because they’re normative. Challenging systems of oppression and discrimination is a conscious effort, and one we must all actively work through together. By staying informed and choosing who and where to buy from, we can turn the tides of what practices are acceptable or not on a global scale (looking at you Bezos).

Be sure to check out The Truman Show, playing at midnight on November 12 at FSU’s Student Life Cinema!

References

Morris, Michael. “Standard White: Dismantling White Normativity.” California Law Review, vol. 104, no. 4, 2016, pp. 949 978. www.jstor.org/stable/24758741. Accessed 22 Aug. 2020.

Shankar, Shalini. “Nothing Sells Like Whiteness: Race, Ontology, and American Advertising.” American Anthropologist, vol. 122, no. 1, 2020, pp. 112–19, doi:10.1111/aman.13354.

Written by: Mia Hernandez

Art by: Yanni Spanolios | Instagram