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Born in the USA: New Jersey and the Media post-Springsteen

Nine movies in the top 100 grossing films of last year contained a proper noun referring to a geographic entity in the title:

First off, "Azkaban" and "Stepford" refer to fictional places, so let's strike them from the list. "Alamo" and "The Polar Express" refer to places of another time/reality, so they really don't reflect the current Zeitgeist. Lastly, "Manchurian" actually meant something in the original movie, but its use here is more for marketing than any association with a real location.

So that leaves London, America, and New Jersey (the last with two films). If we extract the analogous list from the best picture winners, we have:

So ... perhaps we see a pattern: big cities and major nations. This is consistent with London and America, but New Jersey seems inconsistent. One could argue that there is a question of quality, but given that Cody Banks is consistent with our historical cross section, that seems unlikely. So what would make the small state of New Jersey, whose perhaps largest contribution to popular culture up until 1980 was a boy from Hoboken, so over-represented on this list? I argue that it is not a fluke; it is my opinion that the films Jersey Girl, Garden State, and Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle are part of a broader media milieu that depicts New Jersey as a microcosm of America, thus making it an attractive setting for films.

Unlike the South, Texas, and California, New Jersey does not have a cultural stereotype that would be considered distinct from the median values and culture of mainstream America. California, although a common setting of films, does not reflect America; it's more an alternate reality of who we wish we could be if we were rich, young, attractive, and, horny (the OC, Melrose Place, 90210); just young and rich (Beverly Hillbillies); or just attractive and horny (Baywatch). We can envy and lust after the people there, but we can't see ourselves there the way we could imagine ourselves leading normal lives in Trenton. Likewise, New Jersey's environment is not so extreme as to alienate and distance the viewer. So while most people could never mentally transport themselves to Hawaii, Alaska, or the Florida Keys (also popular settings), they could put themselves in the Midwest or Mid-Atlantic.

So what has transformed the Midwestern everyman of Grover's Corner into Zach Braff's Andrew Largeman? Partly, it's the demographic metamorphosis of America; New Jersey, a state of pastoral gardens hemmed in by exurbs extending from Philadelphia and New York, is the quintessential suburb and reflects America's transformation from a dichotomy of dense urban cities and sparse rural towns to a homogeneous terrain of identical developments of reasonably priced homes from the mid 200s.

New Jersey has been what America is fast becoming. A place for the Collie Trinkies of the world who cannot take the fast pace of the City and escape to the comfortable world of the suburbs. Likewise, it's a place for "Large" to leave the excitement of acting and face family tragedy. At the same time, however, Jersey is also a vibrant place in its own right that covers the spectrum of human society.

The Sopranos are the seedy underbelly of the world, but one that's quotidian in its malevolence, a sharp contrast to the idealization of gangster life in films like Goodfellas. We can empathize with Tony Soprano's concerns about not keeping up with technology on the job, getting his daughter into a good school, taking Prozac, and dealing with the ducks in his pool ... even if he afterwards caps Big Pussy in a bloodbath. The seductive essence of the show is its verisimilitude; it is so close to our everyday lives that the sexual, violent, and illegal aspects seem that much more real ... and alluring. And when Tony needs to buy a lawn ornament from the cop fired because of Tony's pull, he heads over to Fountains of Wayne. Much like the Sopranos, the Montclair, NJ band that takes its name from that kitschy New Jersey location owes its popularity to the evocation of our id's repressed impulses (e.g., Stacy's Mom). The band is edgy, hip, and pretentious enough to complain about the nescient biker who hasn't read one word that wasn't in a porno mag, but sublimates their base desires in the most American way possible (in our consumer culture) by going on a spending spree in "The Valley of Malls."

It wasn't until Harold and Kumar go to White Castle that a single movie epitomized the rich cultural tapestry of New Jersey. The film starts in the suburbs with two children of immigrants battling their Weltschmertz with drugs and pornography ... but their upward social mobility and their ergodic perapatetics allow them to see the myriad aspects of America that exist in close proximity (but never interact).

From the industrial wasteland of New York's rotting appendages in Newark where they encounter lame versions of themselves getting beaten to a pulp (a la the world of the Sopranos) and quickly move to the world of the pampered rich reviling in debauchery in Princeton (a la the inventor of silent velcro in Garden State) before having their brush with NPH's fame and deciding to live in the moment, shunning the rat race (a la the agent to the stars in Jersey Girl).

There's no need to travel route 66 to see America ... if you want to see it all, just go on the NJ Turnpike.

Page by Jordan Ying. Last modified: 2011-06-05