Los Angeles Times - 08.09.2019

LATIMES.COM S SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2019B3

Emperial
Young’s
rallying cry is
written in
hand-drawn
capital let-
ters: “Netflix
Save the
OA.” Just
below that, a
second, smaller sign affixed
to the same upside-down
broom spells out her tactics:
“Hunger Strike Day 8.”
Netflix’s shiny, new 13-
story building — whose
lobby the New York Times
recently declared to be not
just the “hottest see-and-be-
seen spot in Hollywood” but
also the “symbolic epicen-
ter” of our current Holly-
wood era — looms behind
her. Young has been stand-
ing on this corner of Sunset
Boulevard with her home-
made sign and fervent plea
for days.
A few weeks ago, the
streaming behemoth an-
nounced that “The OA,” a
sci-fi mystery thriller, would
not be returning for a third
season after ending Season
2 on a massive cliffhanger.
Ardent fans responded in
kind, going beyond the
usual social media cam-
paigns to crowdfund a
Times Square billboard and
launch a green initiative,
among other novel tactics,
as detailed in a recent Los
Angeles Times story.
But none of that requires
renouncing food or spend-
ing six-ish hours a day just
west of the 101 Freeway
onramp cater-corner from a
Denny’s, in the literal shad-
ow of the tech company that
upended the entertainment
industry — albeit several
security checkpoints away
from any of its decision-
makers. So what is Young
doing out here, and why
does this show matter so
much to her?
Netflix once had a repu-
tation for “saving” and
reviving beloved shows that
been dropped by other
networks, such as “Arrested
Development.” But it’s been
taking a media drubbing of
late for its slate of cancella-
tions, including several
critical and fan darlings that
many argued had never
been adequately promoted
in the first place.
That said, it’s worth
noting that Bloomberg
media reporter Lucas Shaw
crunched the numbers and
found that Netflix’s
“bloodbath” reputation for
canceling shows is actually
overblown: “Netflix is no
quicker to drop shows than
other networks,” Shaw

wrote.

The lure of the entertain-

ment industry drew Young

west from Florida in 2007,

the same year that Netflix

launched its streaming

video service. She had ambi-

tions of working in scripted

drama television. Instead,

she spent a decade on the

unscripted fringes of the

dream factory, working her

way up from a transcriber to

a story producer over eight

seasons of “Big Brother,”

and toiling on “a dozen

other reality shows you’ve

never heard of.” As of late,

she had been doing copy

writing for a video game

company, but that work

dried up in March.

The slight 35-year-old,

who lives with a roommate

in North Hollywood and

looks young enough to pass

for a student from the high

school across the street, is

well aware of the quixotic

absurdity of her quest —

particularly during a time

when so many have so much

to protest in this country.

“It is an absurd overreac-

tion to protest with a hunger

strike over the cancellation

of a television show,” she

said. “And I acknowledge

that, but it’s because my

protest for ‘The OA’ is really

a culmination of multiple

factors.”

As anyone who has ever

been a true fan of anything

knows, real fandom is, at its

core, the polar opposite of

aloneness.

We love shows and mov-

ies and bands because they

reflect some shard of our-

selves. They make us feel

seen and a part of some-

thing bigger, to say nothing

of the raw faith and radi-

ating community that fan-

dom breeds.

“It’s helped people proc-

ess their trauma. It’s helped

people feel like they’re not

invisible,” Young said, ex-

plaining why she cared so

much about the show. Ac-

cording to television writer

Susan Hornik’s story for

this paper, fans say the

show “has resonated with

many marginalized viewers

because it imagines a world

in which people can con-

front trauma and emerge a

stronger version of them-

selves.”

“I think people under-

estimate how much repre-

sentation in media can

matter to somebody who

feels powerless. If you see

that representation, you

start to feel like maybe you

do have power,” Young said.

(The show’s star and co-

creator, Brit Marling, is a

white woman, but “The OA”

has been hailed for its queer

narratives and for featuring

one of the few trans men on

television.)

Representation aside,

there is certainly some

inherent irony as Young,

sounding not unlike the

heroine in any Brit Marling

movie, rails against capi-

talism, faceless corpora-

tions and looming environ-

mental catastrophe over the

cancellation of a Netflix

show.

Weird as “The OA” may

have been, it still wasn’t

exactly an avant-garde

theater production. We’re

talking multimillion-dollar

art, produced for and by a

multibillion-dollar corpora-

tion, where viewership

requires monthly payments

by credit card. But for

Young, it was also personal

— a shot of hope in a dark

time.

The recent past has been

especially rough for her, as

she sent out job application

after job application into the

abyss, with nary a response.

“Capitalism has seemed

more and more like it’s just

going to swallow me up

personally in these past few

months,” she said.

“My hopelessness stems

from the times that we live

in,” she said, adding that

she knew plenty of other

young people who felt the

same way, astray in a sys-

tem in which they had little

power and even less of a

safety net.

Which, as she tweeted

around the time she started

her hunger strike, “leads to a

very strange truth about

our society. Sometimes, a

TV show is the best thing

you have.”

Television, and this show

specifically, was “one of the

few things that I and others

have as a coping mecha-

nism” when the broader

world felt crazy and bleak,

she said.

“I don’t know where my

future is going,” she said. So,

she decided to make a sign

and try to do something.

“To see if a human could

move a corporation, which

is probably impossible.” She

ended her hunger strike

Monday, after 13 days (bro-

ken up in two stretches, with

a one-day break) without

food.

But she is still standing

outside Netflix every week-

day with her sign.

“What do you have to

lose?” she asked.

Inside the L.A.

mall meme wars

We used to live in malls,

and now we live online.

Not literally speaking, of

course, as neither would be

particularly conducive to a

good night’s rest. But the

cultural real estate that

malls once occupied in the

lives of American young

people — as teen town

square, entertainment

source and social nexus —

has now largely been for-

feited to the internet.

Perhaps it should come

as no surprise that South-

ern California, which once

boasted the greatest con-

centration of shopping

malls in the country, is now

home to multiple dueling

mall meme accounts on

Twitter.

The great L.A. mall

meme wars of 2019 started in

May, when three comedians

who live in Glendale and

often frequent the Ameri-

cana at Brand — a Disney-

fied outdoor super-mall

that exemplifies the highly

specific, nostalgia-tinged

tastes of its creator, Rick

Caruso — decided to create

an account of extremely

niche memes about the

Americana.

The trio presumed no

more than a few friends

would get the jokes and

laugh along. They thought

wrong, as the account now

has more than 8,000 follow-

ers. Within a month, it has

also spawned numerous

copycats, including meme

accounts for the Glendale

Galleria, the Beverly Center,

the Burbank Town Center

and the Third Street Prom-

enade. (The latter two ac-

counts have since either

been deleted or suspended.)

An internet meme, said

media historian Patrick

Davison, “is a piece of cul-

ture, typically a joke, which

gains influence through

online transmission.”

Think of a meme like an

infectious joke, prone to

spreading quickly into a

shared social phenomenon.

Much like viruses, memes

can mutate as they pass

from person to person (or

social network to social

network).

And as the internet

grows ever vaster, the ap-

peal of hyper-specialized

niche memes has also ex-

panded.

The @AmericanaMemes

account mines pop culture

to speak to the extremely

specific experiences of

people who know and love

the mall in Glendale. One

meme featured a faux-

Coachella lineup, complete

with mall attractions in-

stead of musical acts (the

fountain, the Sprinkles

cupcake ATM and the park-

ing lot will all be headlining).

“I think I’ve unintention-

ally tapped into [the fact

that] the internet is becom-

ing more and more specific

for people,” the main meme

maker behind the account,

who would prefer to remain

anonymous, told me over

the phone.

“When you see a meme

about a TV show, it’s like

yeah, we all watch ‘Game of

Thrones,’ this was made for

a million people,” he ex-

plained. “As opposed to, oh,

this was made for like a

thousand people, and it

really hits home with them.”

The dueling meme ac-

counts, particularly the

back-and-forth between the

Americana at Brand ac-

count and the Glendale

Galleria account, also gets

at a larger shift in L.A. mall

culture. “There’s really no

comparing the Americana

at Brand to the Glendale

Galleria,” as Steven Blum

wrote in a June L.A. Maga-

zine story on this very topic.

The Americana “is a

pristine capitalist play-

ground filled with Bellagio

fountains, vintage trolley

cars, and Bose speakers

embedded in lamp posts,”

Blum continued. “The other

is a classic indoor establish-

ment that feels like a throw-

back to simpler times.”

Both meme accounts revel

in the stereotypes of their

respective malls, and in

trash talking the other.

So what does the actual

Americana think of its No. 1

fans?

“We are so pleased that

our guests love their experi-

ences at the Americana, and

we’re flattered and amused

by the passion of these

posts,” Julie Jauregui, sen-

ior vice president of retail

operations and leasing at

Caruso, said in an emailed

statement. “Some of the

memes are just pure genius

and have our entire team,

including Rick [Caruso], in

stitches.”

It still remains to be seen

whether Caruso will make a

run for L.A. mayor in 2022,

but at least we know the real

estate mogul has good taste

in memes.

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essentialcalifornia.

Picketing Netflix to save her show

JULIA WICK

‘OA’ fan starts

hunger strike

after streamer

cancels series.

A TRIO of comedians launched an internet meme account about the Americana at Brand in Glendale.

Carlos ChavezLos Angeles Times

EMPERIAL YOUNGpickets near Netflix’s campus in Hollywood to rally for “The OA” to come back. Her protest included a hunger strike, which ended Monday.

Julia WickLos Angeles Times

ESSENTIAL CALIFORNIA