Abby Walker Prompt #5

Abigail Walker

COMM 123 | Lingel

Question #5

 I THINK DAVID DOBRIK IS RUINING MY BRAIN (FUN)

To start, David Dobrik’s channel does not have a general theme. It has 12 million subscribers, mostly young adults. It has defining characteristics. It has motifs. The most prominent motif? Fun. And I would not consider fun a theme. Fun looks like excessive drinking and subsequent drunken falls into pools or onto hard concrete. Fun is Las Vegas. Fun is not only winning money, but losing money. Fun is getting pulled over by the police --- apparently. Fun is not a grand argument; fun is immediately gratifying, something that slips away without a purpose, taking my attention span with it.

The viewer is addicted to the montage. Dobrik’s videos are uniquely marked by their shortness, their jam-packed and disorganized nature. Each video is four minutes and twenty seconds long --- a nod to weed-smoking, which also shortens attention spans --- and within that already short format, exists anywhere from five to ten shorter storylines. In his book, The Work of Art in the Mechanical Age of Reproduction, Walter Benjamin warned that montages destroyed art as it was historically produced and seen by the public. But I think Benjamin would agree that now physiological ramifications are our primary concern. Benjamin argues that “a man who concentrates before a work of art is absorbed by it, [and] in contrast, the distracted mass absorbs the work of art.” (Benjamin & Underwood, 2008, p. 62) Are vlogs art? Not sure. Like Benjamin warned, I don’t have any time to be absorbed by David’s vlogs. To generalize, my vlog-watching generation is literally distracted, bored with literature, bored with paintings in plain museums, always yearning for short bursts of fun.

Regardless, David Dobrik’s content is better defined by its genre: the vlog. It seems vlogging has its cultural roots in reality TV, foreseen by Laurie Ouellette and Susan Murray in their book, Reality TV: Remaking Television Culture. Their book argues that “although reality TV whets our desire for the authentic, much of our engagement with such texts paradoxically hinges our awareness that what we are watching is constructed and contains “fictional” elements,” (Murray & Ouellette, 2009, p. 7) which applies to David’s likely scripted vlogs. But part of what makes David’s vlogs successful is their closeness to that line between the authentic and the scripted. When I first discovered David Dobrik, I considered him and his channel uniquely authentic. His merchandise features the word “clickbait” -- for which many vloggers are guilty. His videos have clickbait-y titles but nearly always follow through. It’s refreshing. That self-awareness vibe might also be derivative of “the celebrification of the ‘average’ folk, [which] further complicates the contours of television fame and the way that its start personas have been constructed as existing in a space between the ordinary and the extraordinary.” (Murray & Ouellette, 2009, p. 11) David’s vlogs frequently feature random people on the street. His friends are pretty regular.

To put David’s vlogs back in discussion with Benjamin and his essay, I would define authenticity as reality television’s “aura”. I feel that aura disappear as Mr. Dobrik grows in popularity --- he’s climbing towards pop-culture kinghood --- and as his content grows increasingly expensive.

I sadly no longer get that sweet buzz from his content. Not since SURPRISING BEST FRIEND WITH LAMBORGHINI!! appeared on my YouTube recommended page. The video has since accumulated 12 million views, which is near the higher end of Mr. Dobrik’s regular view-counts. (Cars are expensive, watching one gifted is very immediately gratifying.) I cannot articulate how badly I wanted to see such a thing. Did I want a Lamborghini? No, not really. Did I want to learn about Lamborghinis? Definitely not. I wanted to feel the surprise and joy on Heath Hussar's face. I wanted to feel it on my face. I wanted to absorb it all for me. 

The thumbnail shows a new, blue “lambo” with a red bow on the hood and David with his friend, Heath, embracing in the corner. The video starts with a short clip of Heath on the ground (in a tent?), which has no purpose at all, doesn’t even make me feel any type of way. Next, David gives his usual advertising spiel. It’s always the most boring part of his videos, but David moves through quickly and its familiarity builds the excitement about the upcoming surprise. He then explains how much of a good friend Heath has been to him. (It’s important to note that these scenes are all in quick bits, montages, the things that scare Benjamin and I.) This Lamborghini is Heath’s dream car. Heath is getting his dream car. Wow, imagine if I got my dream car? Wow. David then bring some other members of his vlog squad to see the car. They say, Oh my god! No way! Are you serious! NOOO, I’m gonna cry.

A few one-liners are thrown in. I’m smiling. Heath pulls up in his truck. My heart is pounding. David reveals the car. SHUT THE-- What?!?, says Heath. His girlfriend is frozen in the backseat. Heath is shaking; he screams. And then starts to cry. (David cries, too.) The viewer knows this moment is coming, since before the video begins. Since the first time we saw one of these David-gives-friend-free-expensive-car videos.

Music plays. A final montage plays. The video ends. I try not to click another.

Sources:

Benjamin, W., & Underwood, J. A. (2008). The work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction. London: Penguin Books.

Murray, S., & Ouellette, L. (2009). Reality Tv: remaking television culture. New York: New York University Press.