By Madeline Gillette, Iowa State University

In Tracy Chapman’s “New Beginnings,” a song from her fantastic 1995 album New Beginnings, she laments that the “whole world’s broke and it ain’t worth fixing.” To that end, she sings that we need to begin society anew and “make new symbols, make new signs”—a sentiment that I often find myself agreeing with. A question arises, however, when I ponder this task: What do we do with the symbols and signs that were once useful, and will likely remain important, to the pre-reformation society? This question reveals that I—and, likely, others—have a sometimes embarrassing attachment to media that better critics may have left to rot in the putrid abyss of the past. Perhaps I am asking these outdated films and books for, as Tracy Chapman sings in “Give Me One Reason,” a song from her phenomenal, and honestly underrated, 1995 album New Beginnings, just “one reason to stay here, and I’ll turn right back around.” Regardless, it is thoughts such as these that led to my project with the 1987 film RoboCop, and my subsequent search for a way to approach older texts in a way that acknowledges their continued relevance in our culture.

By choosing RoboCop as the subject for my investigation into feminist criticism’s potential to forcibly reinterpret images, I soon found myself learning more about symbols and their role in our society. Examining the actual text of RoboCop, I found, is simply not sufficient if feminists wish to determine which images are worth seizing. Equally important elements are the common interpretations or reactions to RoboCop’s images amongst the general populace. The project became, therefore, not a reaction to the text itself but a reaction to the reaction to the text—that is, responding not solely to RoboCop but to common interpretations of it. Even if I find it blatantly obvious that RoboCop’s text is inherently and intentionally satirical, anti-capitalist, and anti-police, there are other internet users who may disagree and seize RoboCop’s image for their own reasons. This means that RoboCop is a text worth seizing—not from its director, the iconic Paul Verhoeven, but from those who dare to (mis)interpret it to fulfill their own goals. By using the same design and production choices that such interpreters may already inherently trust or find interesting—specifically, a commentary vlog that is littered with memes and references and structured on simple points—serves to endear me to this audience. I am fortunate that I came to this project armed with middling editing skills, acquired because I used my formative years to not engage in self-discovery and/or socialize with my peers but to create fan videos of my favorite Muppets, mainly Beaker, for social media accounts with 3 followers.

When reflecting on this project long after it was originally created, there are parts of it I continue to find interesting and worth pursuing, while there are others I feel as though my analysis comes up short. The titular scene used in this analysis, for example, seems to argue that the police have a role in protecting women from the patriarchy rather than being an important factor in upholding it. I do not discuss this fact in my argument. I also do not interrogate why I see some media as more deserving of this feminist re-interpretation than others, an answer which I believe lies in my earlier consideration of common interpretations and how they impact a text’s role in society. One wonders where feminist critics should draw the line: What texts should be reinterpreted, and which should simply be criticized, regardless of their continued relevance? Time constraints kept me from properly addressing many questions that this work provokes, but I do believe that the project’s conceit remains an interesting critique that details how we can negate the negative impact that old texts have on society by forcibly interpreting them in ways that are geared towards progress.

Ultimately, the pursuit of new symbols and new signs is a noble one, and I believe it can be strengthened when feminist critics simultaneously contend with the old texts society may be hesitant to leave behind. Together, these two undertakings may prove that “Heaven’s here on earth,” as Tracy Chapman sings in the eponymous song on her zero skips, all hits 1995 album New Beginnings. I could go on and on about this project, but you’ll have to excuse me. I have to go. Somewhere, there is a crime happening.