Fans. What separates them from ‘audiences’?
They are Beatlemaniacs, Sherlockians, Potterheads, Swifties, Cumberbitches, and so much more. There are many fandoms out there, each unique in their own right. And yet, they’re all fandom. So what do these distinctive groups have in common? What is it that makes fandoms, and distinguishes them from other audiences?
First and foremost: a sense of community. Fandom is about more than liking something (or someone) that others also like, or covering walls in posters, or wearing cosplay. These are manifestations of fanship, which means favouring one thing over another. Fandom, instead, isn’t just personal–it’s collective. Fandom is what happens when fans unite with other fans.
But in the digital world, where fans, audiences, creators, consumers, and influencers are more intertwined than ever, it’s tricky to pinpoint the differences between fandom and audience behaviour. And so, to identify fandom, we tend to look at extremes–such as when fans attack anyone who dares criticise their favourite celebrity.
In the Internet age, it’s often easier to connect dots than to differentiate between them. So at a first look, it may seem that toxic, obsessive fans (so-called Stans) are linked to fandom because both have a reputation for taking things several steps too far. But this association is misleading. Rather than help define fandom, it reduces it to sour examples.
Besides, if we continually look at individuals that display Stan behaviour to try to understand fandom, we miss the point of fandom altogether, which is collectivism.
It’s true that the amount of knowledge fandoms accumulate about their passion can lead to a strong sense of ownership. But unlike Stans, fans tend to use this collectively for bringing constructive, productive, and often positive actions to life.
Fans can be possessive about the characters they love.
When Paramount adapted the Sonic video game for the big screens, it was counting on the support of Sonic aficionados. But what followed immediately after the release of the trailer was a wave of criticism from fans about the character’s adaptation. More specifically, what seems to have freaked people out the most was that the beloved hedgehog had developed human teeth.
Fans created such an uproar on Twitter, Reddit, and film forums, that their displeasure about Sonic’s new looks couldn’t be ignored. Soon after the outcry erupted, director Jeff Fowler announced in a Tweet that Sonic would be redesigned–to the relief of fans (and frustration of Paramount’s financial team).
An audience would have sighed and shrugged. Sonic fans didn’t rest until they were reassured that their beloved character would become its best.
Fans expect to have a say in how their favourite things (or people) are handled.
Fans are aware of their power to make or break (or remake) not just characters, but entire shows. For those whose success depends on how multitudes of devotees will welcome (or pushback on) their creations, this power can be a source of great anxiety. Particularly when fandom demands prove more difficult to address than the redesign of a character.
Screenwriter and producer Damon Lindelof, who was a showrunner of the ABC series Lost, commented on the challenge of matching the expectations of fans, who lamented the show’s finale: “There were things that they wanted, but they also wanted to be surprised,” he said.
However, fandoms don’t always put screen writers and producers on the defensive. They can also be a source of hope, as has been the case for several TV shows that have come back from the dead thanks to the insistence of fans.
Fandoms don’t let their heroes die without a fight.
Fans saved the BBC period drama Ripper Street from being cancelled after it received lower-than-expected ratings. Fans exploded in outrage when Netflix cancelled the show One Day at a Time, leading to its resuscitation by Pop network. Fans succeeded, through a Twitter campaign, in assuring a permanent role for the lovelorn pathologist Molly Hooper on Sherlock.
This means that fans are “no longer a faceless entity occasionally thanked by actors as an afterthought in awards acceptance speeches,” as Katie Wills from The Independent observes. ”Now, they are part of a dialogue with the power to change plots and even get a series recommissioned.”
Similarly, it’s become commonplace for armies of celebrity supporters to defend them online. Michael Shulman from The New Yorker identifies the notion that an attack against a celebrity is an attack against the fans to be at the heart of modern fandom–and fans feel therefore that it’s their duty to retaliate.
Unlike audiences, fans don’t see themselves as a separate entity from the brands, people, and things they love.
Emboldened by their successful campaigns, fans expect to have as important a role to play as the actors on screen, when it comes to keeping shows alive and determining the fate (or design!) of characters.
People and brands lucky enough to have fans should be reactive about engaging with them. Paying attention to uninhibited, passionate fandom can lead to more than understanding what differentiates them from audiences: it’s an opportunity to harness the power of creativity, proactivity, and collectivism that makes fandoms unique.
Curious to learn more about fandom and how celebrities, influencers and brands are harnessing the power of their fans in the digital age? Join distillery on the 12th of November 2019 for our Fandom event: a night of conversation with Jack Cully from Monzo, Jessie Scoullar from WIckesteed Works, creative consultant Sam Ball, and digital marketer Laurie Wang. Register now.
