Search results

Purpose – The purpose of the chapter is to introduce interviewing as an exploratory research approach for understanding the lived experiences of individuals and groups in sports and physical cultural contexts. The author draws on her own research with snowboarders to illustrate some of the standard and unique issues related to conducting interviews as part of ethnographic fieldwork.

Design/methodology/approach – The chapter begins with a brief history of the development of qualitative interviews and their various uses in sport studies. The author then provides a description of her use of ‘postmodern-inspired’ interviews as part of a broader ethnographic study of snowboarding culture. Following this, she adopts an alternative representational approach to illustrate some of the practical, ethical, political and embodied issues for reflexive researchers working in the critical paradigm and conducting interviews in sport and physical cultural fields.

Findings – The chapter illustrates the value of a postmodern approach to interviewing that recognises the interview as more than textual, and gives greater consideration to the affective, sensuous, relational, embodied and socio-spatial dimensions of each interview event.

Research limitations/implications – The chapter examines the strengths and limitations of qualitative interviewing, with particular attention to the potential and perils of interviewing in the sports field.

Originality/value – The chapter provides a succinct introduction to the use of interviewing in sport and physical culture, and makes an innovative contribution by focusing on ethnographic interviews.

Unlike Joss Whedon's cult series Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997–2003), Angel (1999–2004) and Firefly (2002–2003), Dollhouse (2009–2010) is largely considered to be both a critical and commercial failure. Dollhouse is often dismissed as Whedon's worst television series, with critics citing their discomfort and disgust in watching hero Echo's (Eliza Dushku) repeated exploitation. Unlike other popular acclaimed TV series featuring a female action hero like Xena: Warrior Princess (1995–2001), Alias (2002–2006) and Nikita (2010–2013), the hero of Dollhouse is not empowered from the series' outset, but rather she slowly comes to her power and agency due to various traumatic and violent experiences. This chapter argues that Dollhouse stages a reworking of the cinematic female action hero figure by delaying empowerment and forcing the audience to linger in the hero's lack of agency. Dollhouse enables an unpacking of the female action hero popularised in films like Terminator 2: Judgement Day (1991), Long Kiss Goodnight (1996), The Fifth Element (1997) and the Alien franchise (1979, 1986, 1992, 1997). By exposing the mechanics of hero-creation, Dollhouse forces viewers to consider how heroes are made and who is exploited in the process. As such, this chapter considers Dollhouse as an intervention into the female action hero film and television cycle through an analysis of how the series adheres to and subverts the tropes of the cycle.

“Music is Rhythm, Rhythm is Life.” This maxim, uttered by former Motown drummer Bill “Sticks” Nicks to my class and me a few years back, opens a portal to what being human involves. Most accounts of what it means to be human make cognitive capacities, language and reflective thinking, the be-all and end-all of human distinction. But think about it: how many animals do you know who beat rhythm for aesthetic enjoyment and social communion?

In this essay I reflect upon moments from musical experiences, primarily from blues music, to illustrate the place of the spontaneous gesture and ensemble improvisation in interaction, in and out of the music.

This piece argues that television families’ shift away from the traditional nuclear family form is crucial to understand the relatively rapid acceptance of same-sex marriage in mainstream politics. Released in the early 2010s, The Americans focusses on a KGB-created family composed of two Soviet spies, total strangers who ultimately have two children to further their cover as an innocent American family running a DuPont Circle travel agency and living in a Virginia suburb of Washington D.C. Rather than being idealised or sought after, The Americans reveals that the nuclear family is legally, socially, and politically constructed, and, in the end, doomed to failure. Sex and love and even children are instrumentally manipulated on a regular basis to further political goals, transforming basic assumptions about how marriage and family life really work beyond the façade of suburban America. This opens space for consideration and acceptance of alternative family forms, including same-sex marriage.