Fashion Theory, Volume 16, Issue 2, pp.
171 – 192
DOI: 10.2752/175174112X13274987924050
Reprints available directly from the Publishers.
Photocopying permitted by licence only.
© 2012 Berg.
Sarah Gilligan
Sarah Gilligan is a Lecturer in Media at
Hartlepool College, UK. Her research
interests and publications centre
on costume, fashion, and gender
representations in contemporary
popular culture. She is currently writing
a monograph Fashion & Film: Gender,
Stardom and Style in Contemporary
Cinema (Berg, 2013).
sarah.gilligan@hotmail.co.uk
Fragmenting
the Black Male
Body: Will Smith,
Masculinity,
Clothing, and Desire
Abstract
This article examines the ways in which the representation of Will
Smith in I am Legend and I, Robot constructs postcolonial performa-
tive visual narratives that both follow and disrupt existing discourses of
sexualized black masculinity within visual culture. Through compara-
tive analysis with examples drawn from photography, I will argue that
Smith’s representation enables the black body to be rendered as fash-
ionable and aspirational, rather than simply objectified via sexualized
visual discourses.
172 Sarah Gilligan

  Building on existing critical work on costume, identity and cinema

(Bruzzi, Church Gibson, Gilligan), the article forms part of my wider
research project, that responds to calls for further interdisciplinary work
exploring the “new nexus” of film, fashion, and consumption that has
emerged as cinema ever increasingly “bleeds across” different media. De-
spite Smith’s popularity with audiences, the intersection of Smith, black
masculinity, and fashion does not appear to have been the subject of
extended academic attention. In starting to readdress this absence, I will
argue that whilst Smith’s body initially appears to be fetishized, his rep-
resentation is characterized by performance and fragmentation that ren-
ders the body and blackness a construction, rather than a naturalized/
essentialist object of desire. Mythic phallic power and desire is displaced
onto clothes and accessories that function to construct Smith’s on-screen
personas as a new male hero with crossover appeal in order to maximize
his celebrity commodity status. Although such commodification is of-
fered up as aspirational, it is potentially highly problematic in the ways
that it attempts to further render Smith’s blackness “safe” for audiences.

KEYWORDS: Will Smith, cinema, masculinity, body, sexuality, black-

ness, identity, costume, fashion, accessories, consumption, celebrity
culture

Costume, Stars, Identity

The impetus for this article was sparked by an interview in the popular
British movie magazine Empire where Will Smith declared that he had
turned down the part of Neo in The Matrix, as he felt that the special
effects were “too ambitious” and he was not “mature enough” as an
actor for the role (Laurence 2007: 108). Had Smith been cast in the role
of Neo, the representation of Neo and thus masculinity and costume
would without a doubt be utterly different. Not only do Smith and
Keanu Reeves radically differ in terms of their acting style and star-
celebrity persona, but issues of ethnic difference must be considered;
Reeves’ performance of whiteness contrasts with Smith’s blackness in
(at least) three key ways. First, to change the star would be to fun-
damentally change the ways in which the costume intersects with the
body—for instance the swathes of black fabric on Neo’s coat absorb the
light enhancing the features and pale flesh of Reeves as Neo (Church
Gibson 2005b: 117; Gilligan 2009a: 157). To adorn the black body
of Smith in Neo’s matt black clothes undoubtedly creates a different
intersection between clothing and the body, especially in contrast to
the luminous sheen of both Morpheus’ leather coat and Trinity’s PVC
cat-suit. Second, the interesting, complex, and potentially radical inter-
play of authority, guidance, and worship between Morpheus (Laurence
 Fragmenting the Black Male Body: Will Smith, Masculinity, Clothing, and Desire 173

Fishburne) and Neo (Keanu Reeves) would shift if both roles were cast
with black actors. Such casting would alter the subsequent academic
work on representation issues within the film, such as rendering Claudia
Springer’s (2005) reading of The Matrix in terms of Neo’s (white) appro-
priation of “black cool” potentially redundant. And third, as with any
well-known star-celebrity, the spectator unavoidably brings significant
intertextual cultural currency to their reading of an on-screen character
and thus to change to the star is to change our reading of the character.

Will Smith, Audiences, and the Academy

Central to Smith’s cross-media representation is the blurring of his

on-screen characters, star-celebrity persona, and the illusion of an off-
screen persona that is grounded in an allegedly “authentic” and possibly
stereotypical black identity that repeatedly references his working-class
Philadelphia upbringing and his love of music. The popularity of his
soft core, parentally friendly approach to hip hop and rap, coupled with
humor and entertainment, has enabled Smith since the formation of
his “Fresh Prince” persona to become a multimillion dollar “celebrity-
commodity” brand crossing music, television, film, and merchandising.1
With film roles spanning action, sci-fi, comedy, rom-com, bio-pic, and
drama, Smith “constructs a star figure that makes black masculinity
look good” (Magill 2009: 135).
Despite Smith’s crossover appeal with audiences that transcends gen-
der and race (Laurence 2007: 105; Magill 2009) and his topping of the
Forbes’ Star Currency List,2 Smith’s representation in and outside of his
films appears to date to have received very little critical academic atten-
tion. With the exception of David Magill’s chapter “Celebrity Culture
and Racial Masculinities: The Case of Will Smith” (2009), the exist-
ing work on Smith appears to either be journalistic, focusing on his
forthcoming film releases and interviews, or he is the focus of populist
fan and biographies that trace Smith’s rise to fame, work ethic, and
success, offering him up to young readers as an “African-American
hero” (see Doeden 2009; Feinstein 2007; Iannucci 2010). Identities are
both affirmed and destabilized through the meanings, identifications,
and desires that are mobilized by cinematic texts (Tasker 1993) and
whilst, as Pamela Church Gibson argues, it is now hardly novel for aca-
demic work to “discuss the ways in which shifting mores are reflected
through the popularity of particular stars, changing physical types and
new modes of self presentation” (2004: 176), it seems odd that Smith
has been granted so little academic attention to date and in particular
in relation to the intersection of identity, celebrity culture, fashion, and
consumption. This virtual absence can potentially be attributed to both
his association with contemporary popular cinema and his status as
a black male star in Hollywood. Following Yvonne Tasker, I regard
174 Sarah Gilligan

contemporary popular cinema as worthy of critical attention in its own

right and not as an area to be “understood, transcended and moved be-
yond” (1993: 5). Writing from an American context, Magill argues that
the African-American film star “embodies both American fantasies and
fears of blackness” and is an area of representation that remains largely
unexamined and uncritiqued (2009: 126).
Yet in a context of invisibility, Magill argues that Smith can be read
as the “safest” image of black masculinity in Hollywood in that:

Smith presents a fantasy of black identity that ambivalently chal-

lenges the colour line through a liberally racial vision of black
masculinity that calms white cultural fears. (Magill 2009: 127)

Integral to the perceived “safety” of Smith’s star-celebrity persona is

the ways in which through films such as Men in Black he both defuses
“his threat whilst joking about the racial issues to maintain his hip
blackness” (Magill 2009: 131). Repeatedly in Smith’s films, “individu-
alism trumps race”—he saves the universe through a combination of
secure, wholesome, hardworking, honorable masculinity coupled with
sarcasm, irony, and wit, fueling ideologies of American nationalism
(Magill 2009: 128–31). Magill’s references to the institutional need to
calm white “fears” and make Smith safe for audiences highlights not a
homogenizing of the white “other”, but rather raises issues of national
identity, class, and ideology. Although I do not immediately identify with
such a reading position, I am also acutely aware of an ever-increasing
ambivalence in my own reading position and processes of identification
and desire. In turn, it is important to note that such feelings of ambiva-
lence potentially pervade this article and such a position is intended to
prompt further discussion and debate surrounding a range of intersect-
ing and divergent representations and readings of not only Smith, but
also of gender and ethnicity, fashion and the body within contemporary
popular culture more broadly.

Reading Positions and Identity

In acknowledging and focusing upon black masculinity I am acutely

aware of my reading position as a white British female spectator ana-
lyzing black American masculinity and the costumed body in the male-
centered genre of sci-fi cinema from a broadly feminist perspective.
Although such an academic subject position is fraught with complexities,
it is (or at least should be) no more self-reflective and fraught than any
academic discussion of identity. If one is to accept, investigate, and ana-
lyze the cultural construction and performative nature of identity, then
all subject positions are potentially different, fluid, and grounded within
the cultural, historical, social, and political specificities of a given time
 Fragmenting the Black Male Body: Will Smith, Masculinity, Clothing, and Desire 175

period. As the stability of identity is ever more thrown into question,

one potentially speaks from multiple sets of hybridized critical positions
which have the capacity to both crossover and conflict, raising questions
as to which position(s) does one speak in any given context (Mercer
1994). Yet for the white female critic, not to discuss black masculinity
can be seen to further contribute to and maintain the “invisibility” that
pervades contemporary media, cultural institutions, and the Academy
(see Tulloch 2010: 281). As Michele Wallace discusses, through attempt-
ing to adopt a liberal humanist, anti-racist position by not mentioning
race or color difference, texts, critics, and institutions become “instru-
ments of the invisibility” (Wallace 1990[1978]: xix). Such invisibility is
both a problem of ideology and a stage of racism that needs to be “un-
packed, examined and disarmed” (Wallace 1990[1978]: xix).
Therefore in analyzing issues of identity, it is vital that interdisciplin-
ary work on fashion, costume, and contemporary culture increasingly
explores the intersections between race, ethnicity, sexuality, gender,
and class. As Anne McClintock argues race, gender, and class “are not
distinct realms of experience, existing in splendid isolation from each
other; nor can they simply be yoked together retrospectively like ar-
matures of Lego” (1995: 5). Instead they come into existence “in and
through relation to each other—if in contradictory and conflictual ways”
(McClintock 1995: 5). Yet the processes of subjectivity and identifica-
tion are such that even to limit one’s analysis to such intersecting cat-
egories and ignore the differences and spaces between them potentially
renders invisible social, historical, political contexts, and such categories
as national identity, age, education, values, and beliefs, amongst many
others (McClintock 1995:12). It is vital therefore that more disparate
voices are heard that explore not only issues of meaning, pleasure, and
reclamation in relation to identity and experience, but also confront the
problematic issues and analyze what Stuart Hall terms the often “deep
ambivalence of identification” that the production and reading of texts
offers (1992: 256).
A shift in representational processes and black cultural politics has
marked the end of an essential black subject position, leading to the
acknowledgement and exploration of the “extraordinary diversity of
subjective positions, social experiences and cultural identities which
compose the category ‘black’” (Hall 1992: 254). Thus as a category
containing immense diversity and differentiation, “black” as Hall ar-
gues “is essentially a politically and culturally constructed category,
which cannot be grounded in a set of fixed trans-cultural or tran-
scendental racial categories” (Hall 1992: 254). As Carol Tulloch has
recently argued, the terms black and blackness “maintain considerable
contextual prowess to explore presence and meaning of individuals and
groups, historical and cultural activities, objects, and spaces connected
with the African diaspora” (2010: 282). Whilst I am fully aware of the
complexities and ever-shifting terrain of terminology that surround is-
176 Sarah Gilligan

sues of black identity, my primary aim within this article is to focus on

the analysis of specific examples of cinematic representation that raise
interesting issues and debates in relation not only to the cultural con-
struction of black identity, but also gender, consumption, and celebrity.
Therefore, although this article will acknowledge and explore, to bor-
row from Frantz Fanon (1986[1952]), the “fact of blackness” in terms
of the representation and fragmentation of the black male body, I am
not arguing for an essentialist notion of the black subject, but rather
I will (following Hall 1992) explore Smith’s blackness in terms of a
culturally constructed category that intersects with wider discourses of
gender, sexuality, and dress within contemporary popular culture. As
popular cultural texts attempt to formulate hegemonic constructions of
identity, there also exists a plurality of representations that embody the
fragmented, performed, and disparate postmodern condition. It is im-
portant to note, therefore, that I am reading these images as construct-
ing what Rosalind Gill (see 2003) terms (in a different context) “regimes
of representation” in which media texts are offering the spectator im-
ages of identity as discourses that can be performed. Both masculinity
and black identity are thus able to shift within such a framework from
an unquestioned norm to new notions of subjecthood that are “open to
self reflection, criticism, analysis and debate” (see Gill 2003; Rutherford
2003). Thus when I refer to masculinity and to blackness I am focusing
upon of describing, defining, and problematizing representations and
discourses, rather than essences or essentialism.

Costume and the Black Male Body

You want to know what the difference is between you and me? I
make this look good.

Will Smith as Jay to Agent K (Tommy Lee Jones), his white superior
in Men in Black

Defining the concept of “black style” is, as Tulloch discusses, a compli-

cated process and a complex and contested space dominated by an on-
going process of redefinition of what constitutes being “black” (2004,
2010). A “black style aesthetic” is dependent on the “creation of the
clothing” and yet is more than simply the placement of clothes upon a
black body; rather it centers upon “the way the clothes are styled on the
body” (Tulloch 2004: 16) coupled with the lived experience of black
identity. As Stella Bruzzi argues, “black identity has always been more
emphatically expressed through clothes and appearance than white iden-
tity has” (1997: 103). Thus through articulating the emotions, desires,
and difference of individuals, clothing functions as a form of symbolic
resistance that enables “a sense of self and dignity” to be inscribed upon
the body (Tulloch 2004: 17). More recently, Tulloch has argued that the
 Fragmenting the Black Male Body: Will Smith, Masculinity, Clothing, and Desire 177

term “post-black” can be applied in the context of style-fashion-dress

to define individuals of the diaspora who use “style narratives” as a
means of exploring and expressing what black and blackness means “to
be now” (2010: 283). Post-black thus can be read as the “heir” to the
concepts of black and blackness, not replacing, or coming after, but a
means of looking both backwards and forwards, of both becoming and
being (Tulloch 2010: 282). Smith’s use of costume and fashion repeat-
edly showcases post-black style, through the appropriation of hip hop
fashions (Fresh Prince, and the pre-transformation scenes of Men in
Black), the refashioning of blaxploitation “cool” via the black leather
jacket in I, Robot and the endless red carpet “stylin out” performances
of his slick and stylish, yet ever playful and self-referential black dandy
persona (Gilligan 2010).3
Key to Smith’s styling is the intersection of clothing and the body.
Through the processes of fragmentation a complicated allure is cre-
ated by seemingly offering his body up as the object of fetishized
spectacle. Joanne Entwistle argues that, “fashion is about bodies: it is
produced, promoted and worn by bodies. It is the body that fashion
speaks to and it is the body that must be dressed in almost all social
encounters” (2000: 1). Whilst Entwistle’s focus is fashion, rather than
cinematic costuming, “dress in everyday life cannot be separated from
the living breathing body that it adorns” (2000: 9). Elizabeth Wil-
son argues, in a different context, the “garment and the body are in-
separable, neither complete without the other”; clothes are thus only
“complete when animated by a body” (2004[1985]: 376). In films
such as I, Robot and I Am Legend (together with Bad Boys, Bad
Boys II, and the post-transformation scenes of Hancock), the now
familiar “Will Smith running” shot is repeatedly offered up to the
spectator to revel in the pleasures of his clothing drawing attention to
his taut muscularity. Within such moments the camera lingers on his
torso as flowing fabrics contrast with glimpses of the clothed body.
Such is the spectacular intervention (Bruzzi 1997) of such a cloth-
ing moment, that it becomes frozen in freeze frame and endlessly re-
produced, circulated, and commodified for publicity shots, websites,
poster campaigns, and DVD covers. Such representations, like those
of Neo in The Matrix (Gilligan 2009a, b), can be seen to center upon
seeing Smith’s physicality via his clothes—creating an intensely phal-
locentric representation and conforming to Anne Hollander’s notion
of a “nude suggestion” (1993). Such a relationship between clothing
and the body initially appears to adhere to my earlier proposition that:

[A] radical shift has taken place in the representation of mascu-

line identities within recent sci-fi and action cinema. Central to
this shift is the displacement of the construction and performance
of identity from the body onto clothes and gadgets. (Gilligan
2009a: 149)
178 Sarah Gilligan

Yet interestingly in I, Robot and I Am Legend (unlike a film such as The

Matrix) desire is not simply displaced onto clothing, but rather a more
complex interaction between flesh and the clothed body is offered. For
instance, in I, Robot, rather than clothing hinting at an unrevealed or
later to be revealed body, the flesh of the body, and in particular the
torso, is offered up in the opening scenes as Smith (as Del Spooner)
awakes and showers. The muscularity of Smith’s upper body on one
hand can be seen to evoke the images of 1980s action heroes such as
Bruce Willis and Sylvester Stallone (see Tasker 1993), but Smith is
shown without the iconic vest. Thus rather than desire being simply
being displaced onto the biceps, the gaze is allowed to linger on the
torso. The action hero’s vest not only displaces desire, but also func-
tions as a class-based signifier of masculine identity—a residual trace
of working-class identity that creates a protective shield inscribed with
markers of the toil, sweat, danger, and action of butch masculine physi-
cality.4 In its absence, it highlights Smith’s bare flesh, rendering his body
both different and potentially vulnerable.

Muscularity and the Black Body

As Richard Dyer argues, the visualization of the male muscular body can
act as a “natural” signifier of “male power and dominance” (1992[1982]:
274). Yet as Tasker observes (after Dyer), the construction and perfor-
mance of the male body that “shows” muscles, “draws attention to both
the restraint and the excess involved in ‘being a man’, the work put into
the male body” (Tasker 1993: 119). With its lack of fat, “flesh and bone
can pass itself off as a kind of armour” (Easthope 1992: 52). The male
body creates a defense between the inside and outside, in which through
the hardness of the body the idealized male is constructed as wholly
masculine, rather than possessing the softness attributed to femininity.
In I, Robot, Smith is offered up as both narcissistic and wounded as
he surveys his own body—his hand traces over his shoulder, arms, and
torso, leading the spectator’s gaze across his naked flesh. Pain and suf-
fering inscribe masochism upon the body, whilst the subsequent focus
on weightlifting and exercise mark him as preoccupied with the busi-
ness of action. Thus in one way Smith’s representation can be seen to
adhere to the dominant conventions of the cinematic representation of
the male body as spectacle and disavowing homoerotic desire (see Dyer
1992[1982]; Neale 1992[1983]; Tasker 1993). Yet his representation is
also marked by the ways in which the combination of camera and light-
ing draw attention to the “fact of blackness” (Fanon 1986[1952]).
The equivalence of black masculinity with both a hyper-masculinity
and hyper-sexuality is both an established representational trope and
“is the site of pronounced fantasies about black men’s sexuality and
physical prowess” (Nixon 1996: 186; Tasker 1993: 40). The use of a
low camera angle coupled with the visibility of the ceiling through the
 Fragmenting the Black Male Body: Will Smith, Masculinity, Clothing, and Desire 179

mise en scène constructs Smith/Spooner as towering over the spectator.

His phallic power is further emphasized through the almost hysteric use
of phallic props within the mise en scène; his gun, the vast air condi-
tioning ducts that dominate the frame, together with the hard lines of
the frames of the huge blinds. Daylight pours in through the window,
creating white highlights on Smith’s black flesh as he lifts his weights
and then stands in the shower. The water cascades over his head and
body, the droplets glistening as they run down his torso. The spectator is
encouraged to survey the hyper-muscular body as the camera fragments
Smith’s body and the light glistens off his flesh as he is offered up for the
voyeuristic gaze, as an idealized image of (black) male beauty.
The contrast of black skin and rear projected white light is reminis-
cent of the photographs by Sam Taylor Wood of Laurence Fishburne
and by Sally Soames of Chris Eubank.5 In each of the images, the
black figure materializes against a white background, perhaps even
only visible when represented in terms of and framed by Whiteness. In
Taylor Wood’s image, Fishburne looms in the frame, the mise en scène
indicating a bathroom setting, the circle of white light creating a halo
behind him. Here the similarity to Smith’s/Spooner’s representation
ends, whilst the clothed Fishburne directly engages the spectator’s gaze
(evoking his representation as the tortured Morpheus in The Matrix),
the naked Smith/Spooner adheres to the dominant mode of male rep-
resentation (discussed by Dyer 1992[1982]) in which he does not re-
turn the spectator’s gaze instead preoccupied with surveying his own
body. The droplets of water that run down Fishburne’s face are tears,
forming part of Taylor Wood’s “Crying Men” series. In the context of
this series the tears are ambiguous. Taylor Wood claims the men to be
expressing “real” emotions and thus become transformed into icons
of suffering masculinity (Davies 2004; Miller et al. 2006), yet all the
men featured in the series are actors and thus the tears are potentially
rendered performative.
Sally Soames’ 1992 image of Chris Eubank strips this usually dan-
dified male seemingly bare; on one level his naked muscular torso
evokes the endless journalistic images of him in the boxing ring. Yet
rather than displaying the familiar iconography of the boxer’s body
in action, Soames places Eubank in mid-shot in a studio setting, his
skin glistening and dripping. The white light draws attention to the
droplets on his static body. The shining surface of the black male body
(as with Mercer’s discussion of Mapplethorpe’s black nudes) evokes
both the allure of the photographic print and the physical exertion of
the powerful body (see Mercer 1994: 184). Eubank is silenced, static,
existing in this context as a (celebrity) body. As is typical of Soames’
images (regardless of the ethnicity of the sitter) the photograph is char-
acterized by the intense high contrast and the richness of the blacks
of the image. For instance, in Soames’ 1993 photograph of the author
Ruth Rendell, she like a painting by Rembrandt, emerges from the
deep blackness—her hair and clothing being overwhelmed by the mise
180 Sarah Gilligan

en scène. Whereas such a use of light for Eubank would potentially

lead to erasure, but in placing him against the stark white backdrop
every part of his representation is subjected to the gaze, there is no
space in which to hide. As with many of the images in the Soames’ re-
cent retrospective (2010), through the focus on the person rather than
the intersection of sitter, setting, and props, the image demands either
intertextual familiarity with the model and/or anchorage through the
image’s title to shift the image from anonymity to identification. In
doing so Soames’ image of Eubank in the context of an exhibition
is marked by its difference. Unlike, for instance, her images of Ru-
dolf Nureyev taken in 1978, adorned in his ballet clothes with stage
makeup on, Soames reveals the semi-naked body of Eubank, stripping
him of the markers of both his boxing and his dandy identity. Yet as
with her other images and that of Taylor Wood’s shot of Fishburne,
Eubank confronts the viewer with his direct gaze. We are implicated
in the process of looking as he returns the spectator’s gaze. Yet his (at
least partial) nakedness, as with the representation of Smith/Spooner,
renders the image somewhat problematic. The spectator is potentially
drawn to the glistening naked flesh and in doing so is implicated in the
fetishization of the black male body.

Fetishization of the Mythic Black Phallus

The fetishization of Smith’s (and Eubank’s) blackness leads one to the

(perhaps inevitable) comparison with Robert Mapplethorpe’s iconic
and highly controversial images from his Black Book (1986), that play
with the “tropes of fetishisation” through the fragmentation and ob-
jectification of the black male body (Hall 1992; Marriott 2000; Mercer
1994). Unlike Mapplethorpe’s black male bodies, Smith (as with the
image of Eubank) is usually only stripped to the waist and in I, Robot
when he showers the sexuality and potential vulnerability of the naked
male body is disavowed through the phallic presence of his gun in its
holster, his penis remaining out of sight. The dichotomy of strategies of
showing/not showing Smith’s fragmented body is central to both maxi-
mizing his crossover appeal and rendering his representation “safe” for
audiences through maintaining the myth of the potent (black) phallus.
The shower scene reinforces Lee Parpart’s argument (in a different con-
text) that the penis cannot be shown in an ordinary context and thus the
awe and mystique of the phallus is maintained (see Parpart 2001: 168).
According to Peter Lehman, the penis must remain hidden in order to
perpetuate the male dominance of culture, by not giving the opportu-
nity for comparison and judgment by women and to prevent the poten-
tial of homosexual desire for the homophobic male who may “become
intensely disturbed at finding themselves fascinated by it or deriving
pleasure from looking at it” (2001: 27).
 Fragmenting the Black Male Body: Will Smith, Masculinity, Clothing, and Desire 181

The deification of the black male genitals is a complex and problem-

atic series of discourses both within and outside of black culture (see
hooks 2004; Marriott 2000; Mercer 1994; Wallace 1990[1978]). Map-
plethorpe’s photographs, like Soames’, use photographic techniques
that sculpt the body, creating images of intense aesthetic beauty that
seduce spectators into an intensely ambivalent fascination (Marriott
2000; Mercer 1994). As Kobena Mercer discusses in his two articles on
Mapplethorpe’s images (reprinted 1994), the representation of the black
penis in images such as “Man with a Polyester Suit” raises difficult and
“troublesome” questions as to whether they reinforce or undermine
racist myths about black sexuality (1994: 192). Within the images the
man’s sex becomes the sum of both his blackness and his maleness.
Devoid of social, historical, or political context the men in Mappletho-
rpe’s images are constructed as sexual even when they are not “doing”
anything (1994: 174).
In contrast, through the spectator being refused the opportunity to
see the full frontal display of Smith’s body, desire is displaced and in turn
through placing the penis (literally) in darkness its mystery remains. The
“hiding” of the black penis as a strategy of both making “safe” and
deification is further evident within online promotional discourses that
surrounded the release of I, Robot. In one article for Killermovies.com,
Smith claims that the shower scene was actually “full frontal nudity,
but they had to digitally remove ...” (the phrasing eradicating the penis
from the written discourse) and in another article for Female First, it
is alleged that Smith was “forced to strap his manhood to his leg for a
steamy shower scene in ‘I, Robot’—because it was so big.” The article
continues, claiming that the crew “resorted to strapping it down with
gaffer tape.”6 In turn such intensely problematic discourses undermine
the attempts to displace erotic attention, reducing Smith once more to a
stereotyped image of blackness in which (to borrow from Mercer) “the
penis is the forbidden totem of colonial fantasy” (1994: 183).

Constructing and Performing the Black Male Body

Unlike Mapplethorpe’s images, Smith is not simply passive and there

to-be-looked-at. Instead in both I, Robot and I Am Legend, the naked/
semi-naked body is shown in action. A visual narrative discourse of the
“work” of masculinity is created in and outside of the text in which
the hyper-masculine ideal is offered up not as natural and authentic,
but is revealed to be a construction, the result of relentless exercise and
hard work. Whilst on one hand the construction of Smith as a “muscle
machine” can be seen to adhere to the dehumanizing, classical racist
perception of African peoples as “bodies not minds” (Mercer 1994:
138), the representation of regular, intensive exercise, work, and disci-
pline is shown in both I Am Legend and I, Robot to be a requirement in
182 Sarah Gilligan

the formation of such an image. In addition, unlike the silenced visual

narrative of the photographic image, the visual and verbal narratives
intertwine. Through his respective roles as a detective (I, Robot) and a
scientist (I Am Legend), Smith’s on-screen desire to search for truth and
save mankind through knowledge, experimentation, and determination
(as well as action) marks him as part of wider cultural construction of
a new mode of sci-fi action heroes (see Church Gibson 2004; Gilligan
2009a, b).
The intertextual discourses that surround contemporary cinema
in the age of celebrity culture further reinforce the representation of
Smith’s muscular body as a construction. For instance, an online ar-
ticle in Men’s Health details the intensive training regime that Smith
undertook to prepare his body for I, Robot that combined “5-day-a-
week” weightlifting sessions, running five miles six days a week, and
boxing twice a week. The reader is offered detailed instructions of how
Smith combined exercise with a “high protein, high carbohydrate diet”
in which he slowly “reduced his food intake to burn fat” reducing his
body fat to 7.5 percent (Men’s Health 2004). Such discourses form part
of a larger trend within celebrity culture where men, as well as women,
are offered an endless array of celebrity bodies to attempt to copy. In-
terestingly though, whilst women are offered whole images of off-screen
star-celebrity bodies (see Feasey 2006), men appear to be encouraged to
copy on-screen characters, rather than off-screen stars. Advertising in
men’s magazines may offer up a plethora of beautiful images of well-
dressed men (see Edwards 1997; Gill 2003; Jobling 1999; Mort 1996;
Simpson 1994), but the processes of “shared knowledge” (see Stacey
1994) are rarely evident. Instead when male star-celebrity figures appear
in feature articles and fashion shoots, the costuming, mise en scène, and
graphic style of the images and editorial frequently alludes to the char-
acter’s representation within film texts (Gilligan 2009c). Thus it is Will
Smith’s preparations for his on-screen roles in I, Robot, I Am Legend,
or Ali that more often form the basis of the “copy-the-look” articles,
rather than his red carpet star-celebrity persona. This distancing strat-
egy renders the body performative and integral to the construction of
character in which the ordinary (off-screen) man is transformed into an
extraordinary (on-screen) hero.
Smith’s body is further rendered as a performative construction
through its fluidity. Rather than his body being offered as natural, sta-
ble, and grounded in a mythic essentialist notion of the macho black
male, the intertextual discourses that surround his films highlight the
changes to his body (in particular his torso) between different film roles.
For instance, for his role in Ali (2001), Smith transformed from “a 185
pound actor to a 220 pound athlete,” immersing himself into the role
and bulking up to “become” Muhammad Ali. “Beyond looking like a
fighter, my goal was to learn to think like a fighter,” says Smith. “To
do that I had to eat like a fighter, sleep like a fighter, assess situations
in life like a fighter...become a fighter” (see Anon. 2001a). Promotional
 Fragmenting the Black Male Body: Will Smith, Masculinity, Clothing, and Desire 183

features endlessly regurgitate the same studio-endorsed movie “facts”

and highlight how Smith’s six-day-a-week, twelve-month training re-
gime allegedly included:

Running in combat boots through snow in the thin air of Aspen,

Colorado, lifting weights and boxing. At the beginning of his
weight training, he bench-pressed 175 pounds. By the end of the
year, he was pumping 365 pounds. (Anon. 2001b)

In contrast, the image of the male body that is offered up as Smith does
chin-ups and runs in I Am Legend, whilst highly toned is significantly
leaner than that represented within Ali or I, Robot.
This shift in both Smith’s body muscle and body fat both generates
more publicity as a new “look” is revealed and also can be seen to
reflect a wider cultural shift in the fashionable male body from the spec-
tacle of hyper-muscular to what Church Gibson describes as the “sub-
tler tyranny” of the highly toned males and very slender men (2004:
177). The shift in Smith’s body therefore not only marks the black male
body as a construction, but also highlights the demands of the fash-
ionable masculine (and female) body. As film, fashion, and advertising
increasingly blur, this image of masculinity is becoming progressively
leaner (see Church Gibson 2010; Rees-Roberts 2010) and potentially
ever more impossible for the “average” male spectator to achieve. The
highly toned, lean body is of course not the only body that is offered to
the spectator as a point of aspiration, but for the young, upwardly mo-
bile fashion-conscious urbanite it is becoming the dominant ideal. The
new male heroes that Smith (amongst others) offer not only are “more
sartorially aware and able to combine sharp dressing with fisticuffs and
worse” (Church Gibson 2004: 180), but also ever increasingly have to
be intelligent, articulate heroes for the digital future.
Significantly though, despite the apparent objectification of his body
both in and outside of the film, Smith’s characters in I Am Legend and
I, Robot are actually constructed as almost asexual and become re-
clothed. Nakedness is temporary, functional, and a precursor to leading
the narrative action. Rather than representing a sexually active body,
Smith is constructed in both I, Robot and I Am Legend as a lone hero
figure, currently devoid of physical and emotional intimacy. In his rep-
resentation he thus challenges dominant stereotypes of the black male
as buddy or sidekick or as hyper-sexualized (MacKinnon 1997; Tasker
1993, 1998). Such representations both highlight Smith’s hero status
and render his body untouchable, unattainable, a focus of distanced
aspiration and worship.
Whilst the star-celebrity body maybe subjected the endless disci-
pline of diet and exercise, the on-screen sci-fi hero is offered a fur-
ther transcendence from the material confines of the body. In I Robot,
Smith’s body initially is shown to be the result of discipline, but is
later revealed to be both performative and part cyborg as he “repairs”
184 Sarah Gilligan

his arm and repaints his “black” skin. Amanda Fernbach argues that
contemporary Western culture is currently marked by a “plethora of
evolutionary fantasies that imagine and invent our future selves and
their forms of embodiment” (2002: 3). Whether it is in the appropria-
tion of nanotechnology to create a cyborg self or in the capacity of
Web environments such as chat rooms to enable identity morphing,
“fantasies of transformation run rife” (Fernbach 2002: 3).7 A cultural
preoccupation has developed with the future of the body in the age of
technology in which the “hybrid technologised body” may “indicate
the physical and conceptual end to the body” (Fernbach 2002: 3). Cy-
bernetic research such as Kevin Warwick’s “Project Cyborg” brings
the possibilities of a cyborg existence closer to reality. Yet the notion
of embedding technologies into the body can be seen as fraught with
cultural tensions and anxieties.8 To Fernbach, male cyborgs represent a
“phallic masculinity that is heavily dependent upon techno-fetishes” to
ward off the anxieties of castrated masculinity (2002: 144). Despite his
techno-fetish power, he does not possess the phallus, he masquerades
as the phallus. The cyborg is a machine masquerading as a man (Fern-
bach 2002: 148). Smith’s/Spooner’s identity within such a framework
thus becomes about “doing,” rather than “being.” Subsequently, gen-
dered and ethnic identities potentially become the subject of transfor-
mation, rather than crisis.

Film, Fashion, and Patterns of Consumption

Whilst both the post-human and the aspirational highly toned body
may currently remain out of reach for the average spectator, through
product placement and tie-in promotions sci-fi cinema self-consciously
uses fashion, gadgets, and branded goods in order to fragment the body
and collapse the divide between the fantastical imaginary universe of
sci-fi and that of contemporary reality. Justin Smith argues that:

Cult films often use iconic costume design as a visual language for
expressing the physical charisma of their heroes to their fans. In
this way, costume as an adornment of bodily performance, pres-
ents a fertile creative territory for audiences to rehearse their ritu-
als of devotion. (Smith 2005: 306)9

As Hollywood films, Smith’s movies may not initially appear to have the
cult status of a film such as Withnail and I that forms the focus of Justin
Smith’s analysis, but as examples of sci-fi action cinema, I Robot and I
Am Legend (together with Hancock and Men in Black) all potentially
reach an intensely loyal and devoted fan base. Branded fashion (as op-
posed to costume) enables a more subtle “everyday” means of express-
ing fan-based devotion to a text than copying the costumed look of a
character through a replica of an iconic garment such as a coat, that
so easily runs the risk of appearing like a conventioneer’s costume or a
fancy dress outfit.10
 Fragmenting the Black Male Body: Will Smith, Masculinity, Clothing, and Desire 185

For instance for I Am Legend, Smith is adorned in a functionalist anti-

exhibitionist wardrobe created by Belstaff. Wearing what Belstaff calls
a “futuristic evolution of the legendary jacket Steve McQueen wore 40
years ago”—the Trial Master Legend jacket is a design classic.11 In a simi-
lar way to the Barbour brand the Belstaff jacket is conventionally associ-
ated with functionality and durability. Yet through its association with
film stars such as McQueen and Smith via product placement and its re-
branding as a designer fashion label, it becomes loaded with meaning as a
transformative garment. The jacket enables Smith to transcend the limits
of ethnicity and the black body and become defined as a lone hero who
will save the world. Through fashion tie-ins and in-store promotions the
spectator is promised that although they may never have Smith’s body,
they can with the right Belstaff jacket, bag, and boots also become a hero.
Belstaff’s product placement and related online and in-store cam-
paigns for I Am Legend forms part of the company’s large-scale mul-
tiplatform rebranding—“Belstaff World”—to reenergize the brand for
contemporary consumers. Events, movies, music, charity events, and
the motorcycle cycle odyssey Long Way Down are all endorsed by
the Belstaff brand with classic and new garments being showcased on-
screen and through tie-in campaigns and publicity. Although by no
means the first film to treat the cinema as a “shop window” for the
promotion of fashion, brands, and accessories (see Bruzzi 1997; Desser
and Jowett 2000; Gaines and Herzog 1990; Stacey 1994), I Am Leg-
end forms part of a rising and pervasive showcasing of contemporary
branded fashion on-screen. As Church Gibson discusses, the bound-
aries between costume and fashion are progressively blurring as film
stills look like fashion shoots and showy designer fashions and product
endorsements increasingly create a spectacular intervention by over-
shadowing the narrative role of costume design (2008, 2010, 2011).
Whilst the iconic Belstaff jacket is perhaps instantly recognizable
to the fashion-literate spectator, its placement in I Am Legend is rela-
tively unobtrusive. Yet in the case of I, Robot the product placement
is made even more explicit to the spectator through the combination
of the visual and the verbal narrative. Smith’s devotion, loyalty, and
consumption of the Converse brand is made explicit from the open-
ing scenes of the film. Following his objectification in the shower,
desire is displaced onto accessories through the product placement
of a pair of black Converse All Stars. The camera raises the train-
ers to the level of fetish through lingering shots of Smith/Spooner
removing them from their carrier bag and branded box, followed by
a close up of him tying his laces, placing the shoe and its iconic logo
center screen. In case the spectator missed the product placement,
the brand endorsement is further reinforced through further shots as
Smith/Spooner walks through the city and then as he sits at Granny’s
table. Granny (Adrian Ricard) declares: “Boy what is that on your
feet?” Smith/Spooner raising his leg and placing his foot on the back
of the chair replies with a smile, “Converse All Stars, vintage 2004.”
186 Sarah Gilligan

Granny laughs and shakes her head, to which Smith/Spooner retorts:

“Don’t turn your face up like that. I know you want some. All you
got to do is ask.”
Smith’s on-screen image also offers multiple and less overtly branded
points of entry for the spectator to attempt to copy his look through vari-
ous items: Ray-Bans in Men in Black, the Fitover navigator sunglasses,
the vintage 1958 Philadelphia Eagles hat, oversized women’s Dior sun-
glasses in Hancock, the beanie hat in I, Robot. Online forums provide
extensive evidence of fans eagerly attempting to copy Smith’s look, with
questions on where to source specific garments and accessories and sites
such as eBay offering custom-made replicas of Smith’s hats.12
In addition, even without an on-screen endorsement, the transfor-
mative potential of Smith’s on-screen star-celebrity style was explicitly
commodified in the recent release (2008) of two limited edition versions
of the Puma Fresh Prince of Bel Air Packs. The first, the Puma First
Round, features the same graffiti as the opening sequence of the Fresh
Prince TV series. The second, the Puma Clyde, signifies Will’s high life
in Bel Air with its bling styling, Italian croc leather, and gold accents. In
turn, the sneakers become “over determined objects” (see Bruzzi 1997:
108), loaded with new meanings, that reduce black identity to a limited
set of objects devoid of the body or lived experience. Their exclusivity
as a limited edition of just over a 1,000 pairs leads them to be coveted
in online fan discourses by users who most likely will never be able to
afford or acquire a pair.13 Street fashion thus becomes fetishized as a
point of unattainable aspiration for the spectator.
In turn, the accessory functions as an extension of the body, blurring
the boundaries between where the body starts and ends. It is both part
and not part of the body. Accessories do not demand the same strat-
egies of endless discipline, or “bodywork” (see Featherstone 1982), as
the garment that adorns the body and they possess the capacity to be
endlessly refashioned and restyled as ever-shifting signifiers of fashion-
ability and personal style. Rather than the spectator being encouraged
to copy the whole “look,” Smith’s style is broken down and fragmented,
and the focus of desire is displaced from the clothes that adorn the sexu-
alized body, to the more asexual extremities through the promotion of
sunglasses, trainers, and hats. Accessories function as a quick fix that the
spectator can actually possess and thus, through consumption, one’s life
can (supposedly) be instantly transformed (Gilligan 2009c). Regardless of
the level of copying that the spectator undertakes, it is the lifestyle, special
qualities, skills, or powers of the character, rather than simply the look of
the star, that become the point of aspiration for the male spectator.

Conclusion

Thus through the intersection of clothing, accessories, and the body

Smith offers up representations of “new ethnic identities” that not only
 Fragmenting the Black Male Body: Will Smith, Masculinity, Clothing, and Desire 187

self-consciously engage with notions of difference (see Hall 1992: 257),

but also offer more diverse conceptions of ethnicity that are fluid, mul-
tiple, and dominated by transformation and performance. In doing so,
clothed identities have the capacity to be both contextually specific and
playful, creating subject positions that intersect with and question not
only cultural constructions of ethnicity, but also discourses of gender,
class, and sexual identities.
Yet as Toby Miller argues:

the process of bodily commodification through niche targeting

has identified men’s bodies as objects of desire, and gay men and
straight women as consumers, while there are even signs of lesbian
desire as a target. Masculinity is no longer the exclusive province
of men, either as spectators, or agents of power. (2003: 233)

Aspiration, desire, and consumption are thus not limited to the male
spectator who wishes to refashion himself in order to become a lit-
tle closer to their on-screen ideal or object of devotion. Through the
cross-media promotion and click-and-buy possibilities of e-commerce
we can all, regardless of gender, ethnicity, or sexuality, purchase a little
bit of Smith’s fashioning of blackness—whether that be sunglasses, a
hat, a jacket, or trainers. In such a framework, black style thus func-
tions as a commodity—as the “antidote to racism,” manufactured by
elites to serve their own often commercially motivated interests (Cash-
more 1997: 3). The only constraint on the fashioning of identity in a
context of branded and designer accessories is the financial capacity
to consume.

Notes

  1. For further discussion of “celebrity commodity” and also black cul-

ture as a “commodity” see Marshall (1997) and Cashmore (1997,
2006).
  2. See  http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/celebritynews/
4583577/Will-Smith-tops-Hollywood-power-list.html  (accessed
July 23, 2010). The list measures stars’ financial clout (a) to attract
funding and (b) driving box office performance.
  3. For further discussion of “stylin out” and the black dandy (but not
in relation to Smith), see Miller (2009).
  4. Although not within the scope of this article, the vest (together with
the bulletproof vest) and its relationship with masculinity, class,
sexuality, and ethnicity is worthy of further analysis in relation to
cinematic costuming (see Gilligan forthcoming).
  5. The “Crying Men” series formed part of Sam Taylor Wood’s Still
Lives exhibition at the Baltic, Gateshead, UK, May 17–September
3, 2006. The “Crying Men” images were also shown at The White
188 Sarah Gilligan

Cube Gallery, London (2004). See Miller et al. (2006) for copies
of the images. Soames’ photographs were recently displayed at
Northumbria University’s Baring Wing Gallery, Newcastle upon
Tyne, as part of a Sally Soames Retrospective exhibition (August 27–
October 1, 2010). Copies of the images are available online at: http://
www.sallysoames.com (accessed August 29, 2010); http://www.nor
thumbria.ac.uk/universitygallery/northumbriagalleryexhibitions/?
view=page2&itemKey=1680061 (accessed August 29, 2010).
  6. See http://www.femalefirst.co.uk/celebrity/Will+Smith-476.html
(accessed July 23, 2010); http://www.killermovies.com/i/irobot/
articles/4205.html (accessed July 23, 2010).
  7. Since the publication of Fernbach’s book (2002), one can argue that
virtual reality environments such as “Second Life” also offer the po-
tential to immerse oneself in alternative realities and environments.
  8. See www.kevinwarwick.com (accessed August 29, 2010) for de-
tails of Warwick’s research projects and publications. In addition,
see Warwick’s online essay “The Matrix: Our Future?” http://
whatisthematrix.warnerbros.com/rl_cmp/new_phil_warwick.html
(accessed August 29, 2010). With thanks to Steve Trewick in con-
versation with the author.
  9. Smith’s article focuses upon the cult status of Andrea Galer’s coat
for Richard E. Grant in Withnail and I (dir. Bruce Robinson, 1987),
which has spurned “creative hybridity” as a “coat that has a life”—
with replica coats being sold for £595 (2005: 307).
10. For discussion of sci-fi fandom and conventions, and the expression
of fandom through clothing, see Bacon Smith (2000) and Jenkins
and Tulloch (1995).
11. Belstaff, now owned by the Italian Malenotti family, paid £17,500
at an auction in 2006 for the original Trial Master owned by
McQueen. The firm has put the classic black belted jacket on dis-
play in its Milan showroom.
12. For example, see http://cgi.ebay.com/Smith-Leather-Suede-I-Robot-
Style-Hat-Lining-/400085999464 (accessed August 29, 2010).
13. Only 1,032 pairs per style worldwide. Released May 17, 2008. See
http://www.myairshoes.com/puma/puma-fresh-prince-of-bel-air-
pack.html (accessed August 29, 2010).

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