big hero six ap research paper

San Fransokyo, Hiro, and Hybridity in Disney's ​Big Hero 6

The Modern Mythical Place: San Fransokyo, Hiro, and Hybridity in Disney’s Big Hero 6 ​

Jamie Uy AP Research Block B3 Mr. Adkison March 2016

Hybridity is defined by seminal postcolonial theorist Homi K. Bhabha as a ‘Third Space’ where cultures converge, combine, and are continuously changing. In postcolonial theory, hybridity is considered a radical re­imagining of racial politics wherein cultures have moved beyond reductive binaristic categories, thus lessening the power struggles inherent in those polarities. Therefore, hybrid racial representations are seen as liberal and progressive, ​ with the capacity to empower marginalized ethnicities as opposed to Hollywood traditions that perpetuate existing racial hierarchies, such as Orientalism and tokenism. In this film analysis of the Disney animation feature Big Hero ​ 6 (Don Hall and Chris Williams, 2014), I argue that San Fransokyo, the fictional Japanese­American fusion setting, ​ and Hiro, the film’s mixed­race protagonist, are examples of hybrid representation that attempt to break away from these traditions. This paper further examines how, while the film posits itself as a celebratory form of the Bhabhian ‘Third Space’ through its blended Japanese­American aesthetic, hyper­real mise en scène, and the liminality of its main characters, Big Hero 6’s agenda to promote hybridity is undermined by latent hierarchies suggested by the ​ ​ process of its world­construction and binary oppositions constraining the development of its secondary characters. The effect of this representation is the creation of a highly realistic yet imaginary world at once both familiar and alien, and neither American nor Japanese, but far from the hybrid utopia San Fransokyo was lauded as in articles following the film’s release. This conclusion has implications for evaluating racial representations in cinema, reminding film scholars that dominant ideologies regarding race are often as naturalized and entrenched in media as they are in society; even within texts that appear on the surface to be progressive or subversive.

1. Introduction

In the opening shot of the critically acclaimed Disney animation feature, Big Hero 6 (Don Hall and Chris Williams, ​ 2014), what appears to be the Golden Gate bridge redesigned with traditional Japanese gates emerges from ocean fog to frame the glittering city of San Fransokyo, a fictional near­future fusion of Tokyo and San Francisco. In the next scene, the film introduces its fourteen­year­old Japanese­American protagonist, Hiro Hamada, his older brother, Tadashi, and their Caucasian aunt, Cass, who live in a San Fransokyan Victorian house turned Japanese­style coffee shop, the Lucky Cat Cafe, where Cass sells donuts alongside yakisoba. Even this early on, it is clear that the film abounds with notions of cultural hybridity, a view shared by the cast and crew. Although the filmmakers never explicitly reference the postcolonial concept, the film is richly evocative of seminal postcolonial theorist Homi K. Bhabha’s definition of hybridity as a ‘Third Space’ beyond reductive binaristic politics or polarities, wherein cultures formerly known as the ‘colonizers’ or the ‘colonized’ converge, combine, and continuously change

(155­57). In line with this aspect of the film, executive producer John Lasseter states, “the modern, mythical combination of Tokyo and San Francisco … make[s] this film genuinely innovative” and director Don Hall explains, “Even the characters embody a blend of cultural aesthetics” (Julius 6­7). Following the death of Tadashi, Hiro, a robotics prodigy, transforms himself, Tadashi’s healthcare robot, Baymax, and his multiracial group of friends into high­tech heroes in order to save San Fransokyo from the masked villain who killed his brother. While the film’s address of loss, revenge, and technology prompted critical attention, reviewers and audiences focused in particular on the film’s hybrid racial representation, which was generally lauded as progressive. Critics praised the film in terms reminiscent of the postcolonial sense of hybridity, such as a review by Robbie Collin in The Telegraph stating, ​ “In Big Hero 6, cultures don’t clash, they compound”. Likewise, Japanese­American popular culture expert Roland ​ ​ Kelts, writing for The New York Times, noted, “authentic details add up to a portrait of two onscreen cultures sharing ​ ​ the same world, undiluted by their affinities, tethered by mutual respect”. Given the centrality of hybridity to the film’s production and reception, it would not be so far­fetched to argue that the nuanced depiction of racial politics could have perhaps contributed to the film’s critical and box office successes. Big Hero 6 won the Academy Award ​ ​ for Best Animated Feature in 2015 and grossed over 657.8 million USD worldwide, making the film the third highest­grossing Disney animated picture of all time after Frozen and The Lion King (IMDb.com). Considering the ​ ​ widespread success Big Hero 6 garnered and the popularity it continues to enjoy ­ a sequel TV series was announced ​ in March 2016 ­ it is worth exploring the film’s salient aspects of race and culture (Snetiker). Within the contexts of its production and critical reception, Big Hero 6 has certainly established a progressive position in terms of racial ​ politics, but upon closer analysis of the film itself, to what extent is this agenda promoting cultural hybridity supported or subverted by its setting and characters? Asking this question has serious implications for evaluating the recent history of racial representation in cinema, and consequently, how entrenched racial hierarchies and categories remain in today’s globalized society. Analyzing Big Hero 6 is especially illuminating since it is a contemporary title by Disney, arguably the world’s ​ ​ leading transnational media conglomerate. Disney has historically been criticized for its portrayal of race ​ perpetuating ­ in direct opposition to the concept of hybridity ­ stereotypes that separate and subjugate ethnic minorities. Contemporaneous with the civil rights movements, critical race theorists published analyses of Disney’s animation classics in seminal readers such as From Mouse to Mermaid: The Politics of Film, Gender, and Culture ​ criticizing Disney on these fronts. In response, film scholar Eve Benhamou writes that the Studio actively set to rectify its past by producing films in the 1990s­2000s featuring diverse characters and messages of tolerance such as Mulan and The Princess and the Frog (153). Benhamou sees Big Hero 6 as the latest in these attempts (162). ​ ​ ​ Through studying Big Hero 6 we can evaluate how much progress Disney has made in promoting racial ​ ​ representation. Furthermore, as Disney is a purveyor of the American entertainment industry, we can examine the film in light of its relation to larger Hollywood traditions of misrepresentation that unfortunately still pass for authentic portrayals of race, such as Orientalism, wherein Western readings are imposed on foreign cultures, and tokenism, wherein minorities are often cast to fill arbitrary political correctness quotas. While Big Hero 6 is ​ ​ generally regarded as progressive, the extent to which it advocates for hybridity beyond superficial means such as those above is symptomatic of society’s readiness to embrace hybridity. After all, as media scholar Michael Omi has argued, “popular culture has always been an important realm within which racial ideologies have been created, reproduced, and sustained” (Maasik and Solomon, 628). Studying Big Hero 6 allows the exposure and self­reflexive ​ exploration of the seemingly natural hierarchies and polarities society imposes on race. The computer­generated world of San Fransokyo can be studied in direct relation to the real world since world­construction, especially in the medium of animation, is inherently shaped by dominant social ideologies. Film is not just entertainment, but a representation of how we might make sense of the world around us, and the animation film, critic John Halas wrote, “is concerned with metaphysical reality ­ not how things look, but what they mean … [as opposed to] the live action film’s job to present physical reality” (qtd. in Wells, Understanding ​ Animation, 7). In other words, Halas sees animation as the most ideologically dependent of all cinematic forms, ​ since animators must draw on and give form to cultural mythologies to construct a world from scratch. As producer Roy Conli stated, “There are no found objects in animation ­ you literally have to create the grain of the wood” (Keegan). Similarly, the science­fiction genre, which Big Hero 6 belongs to as well, is often not rooted purely in ​ ​ futuristic fancy but instead mired in real and current debates over the nature of humanity, justice, and public policy (Nichols, 249). It may seem an overstatement to argue that through moving images we can understand the real world, yet the nature of film itself, as art, technology, product, and experience, is at once pervasive and personal, and always directly situated in its context of production, no matter how experimental it might be (Nichols, 5­15). Media scholar Paul Hodkinson writes studying media allows us to study “interpretations of the world around us … [and] 2

resources for the forging of identities and imaginations” (1). What better way to analyze society that society’s imaginings and dreams of itself, its contemporary cultural mythology? In summary, a close reading of the cinematic elements in a context of hybridity in Big Hero 6 that goes beyond the denotative levels of meaning in the text offers ​ ​ us a deeper and richer examination of the fundamental ideological frameworks in which we view race and culture. Despite the symptomatic potential, no scholarly film analysis of Big Hero 6 has yet been published. By ​ ​ ​ ​ establishing a critical reading as a starting point for a discussion on the film, this paper aims to address the need to critically engage with mass media representations of race and culture, especially in animation, a medium leading animation scholar Paul Wells notes has been traditionally dismissed by academia due to perceptions of it being “only children’s entertainment” and lacking ideological content (“Animation: Forms and Meanings”, 237). Besides helping reclaim animation as an academic topic of analysis, this paper also contributes to the growing body of work evaluating racial representation in contemporary Disney­Pixar animation films. More personally, as a researcher from mixed cultural backgrounds, I am fascinated to discover how notions of hybridity in this popular media text might relate to transcultural identities such as my own. Although this inquiry is limited to in­depth analysis of only one media text, understanding hybridity in Big Hero 6 is a problematic that involves the study of complex ​ intersections of race, identity, and technology in contemporary society; inquiry that is all the more warranted given the rapid acceleration of globalization and the ubiquity of media in our world.

2. Approach

To begin exploring these larger questions, this film analysis uses an interdisciplinary approach combining film theory with postcolonial theory to suggest that San Fransokyo and Hiro in Big Hero 6 are examples of celebratory ​ ​ hybrid cinematic representations attempting to break away from Orientalist and tokenist traditions. However, this paper further examines how latent hierarchies and binary oppositions within the film’s setting and characters problematize this posited embodiment of a utopian Bhabhian Third Space. Drawing on previous scholarship of hybrid film settings, recent analyses of relevant animation films, Bhabha’s ideas about cultural hybridity, production history, critical reception, and close reading of cinematic elements informed by introductory film theory texts, this analysis establishes Big Hero 6’s nuanced portrayal of racial politics and its broad socio­cultural significance, ​ ​ theorizing that even ‘progressive’ media texts can naturalize racial hierarchies. For the reader’s benefit, a quick glossary of key critical terms for this paper’s argument is provided in Appendix A. Since film studies is a relatively new field existing at the crossroads of several disciplines, ranging from philosophy, psychology, sociology, and so on, there is no set methodology to analyzing film; rather, film analysis is more accurately defined by Jeffrey Geiger and R. L. Rutsky as a fluid and creative process with the aims of understanding “how motion pictures are constructed, how they create meanings, how they affect us, and how they are intricately embedded in the cultural and ideological frameworks we inhabit” in order to “question conventional assumptions, discover new insights into films and into the culture or time that produced them… and reveal problematic aspects of our own thinking and assumptions” (1016). Additional parameters of film analysis are broadly set by the three central assumptions of contemporary film studies outlined by Bill Nichols in his textbook, Engaging Cinema: An Introduction to Film Studies: “firstly, that film’s social implications are paramount even though the cinema relies on aesthetic means to convey these implications affectively; secondly, viewers respond to films in direct relation to their actual social and historical situation, and as a result, the perceived significance or greatness of a film will vary with time and place; and thirdly, different viewers and groups of viewers in the same time and place interpret any film, including great films, in different, but understandable ways” (sec. ‘To the Instructor’). These assumptions are incorporated in the dual formal­social approach popularized in film studies during the 1970s, which takes both textual and contextual factors in account when analyzing film, such as the film’s story and world events concurrent with the production. Accordingly, this research adopts the definition, assumptions, and dual formal­social approach above as the basis for its reading by examining an eclectic mix of both textual and contextual sources. The qualitative nature of film analysis, and the flexibility and engagement it allows in applying theory, was well­suited to the exploratory and emergent design of this inquiry. Critical theory was chosen for its study of the relationship between ideologies, culture, and identity, and postcolonial theory chosen since the concept of hybridity in racial politics originates from postcolonialism. Hybridity in this paper refers to notions of the term popularized by Bhabha, who published extensively on hybridity as a ‘Third Space’ where culture lacks “primordial unity or fixity”, and thus, “we may elude the politics of polarity

and emerge as the others of our selves” (157). In other words, hybridity is a radical re­imagining of racial politics dissolving binary oppositions such as us/them; national or ethnic groups, traditionally the ‘colonizers’ and ‘colonized’, lose their boundedness and become “mutually dependent in constructing a shared culture”, whereas before they competed for control (Haj, 31). Furthermore, hybridity is significant to Bhabha in that “it may open the way to conceptualizing an international culture, based not on the exoticism or multiculturalism of the diversity of ​ ​ ​ culture, but on the inscription and articulation of culture … the “inter” ­ the cutting edge of translation and negotiation, the in­between” (157). Put another way, hybridity emphasizes an international culture with nuanced communication between cultures, rather than mere co­existence. Bhabha’s theories are useful for suggesting a basis for what hybridity means and how it might manifest in the setting and characters of Big Hero 6. ​ ​

3. Findings and Analysis ​

San Fransokyo as Third Space

At one point in his essay, Bhabha writes that the Third Space is characterized by cultural signs being “appropriated, translated, dehistoricized, and read anew” (156). These transformations are embodied throughout the blended Japanese­American aesthetic of Big Hero 6, but are most readily apparent in the mise en scène of San Fransokyo. ​ ​ ​ Mise en scène, as defined by Nichols, is “the arrangement of the so­called theatrical elements before they are ​ actually filmed; these include sets, lighting, costumes, and props”; in animation, mise en scène refers to the ​ ​ animation model of the setting, and how it is rendered and presented to the audience (506). The mise en scène of Big ​ ​ ​ Hero 6 places cultural signs in new contexts through the application of postmodern techniques such as bricolage and pastiche, which animation scholar Susan J. Napier characterizes as drawing inspiration from and combining a medley of cultural influences (290). San Fransokyo is infused with this eclectic spirit ­ for instance, Hiro’s family home, a Victorian house, features a prominent maneki­neko, or lucky cat figure, over its front door; outside his ​ ​ home, cherry blossom trees line hilly suburban streets, and Japanese lanterns swing from cable cars (see figs. 1­3). In downtown San Fransokyo, pagodas stand side­by­side the headquarters of tech industries, and wind turbines shaped like koinobori, or carp streamers, power stately skyscrapers bearing resemblance to the iconic Transamerica ​ ​ Pyramid in San Francisco (see figs. 4­5). The entire city’s design echoes and blends architectural details from the Ginza and Shibuya districts to the neighborhoods of Haight­Ashbury and Presidio. Interestingly, the hybridization of Japanese and American elements, which the animators described as uniting the “tight urban environment” of Tokyo with the “idyllic quaintness” of San Francisco, seem unusually harmonious rather than staunchly juxtaposed ­­ it is unclear where exactly the Japanese and American influence begins and ends, as in Bhabian theory on the dissolution of binary oppositions (Julius, 26­28). In this sense, the setting of the film can truly be read as symbolizing and supporting the movie’s hybrid agenda through the reinterpretation of Japanese and American cultural signs.

Fig. 1. “Lucky Cat Figure on Victorian House.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot.

Fig. 2. “Cherry Blossoms on Hilly Streets.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot.

Fig. 3. “Japanese Lanterns on Cable Cars.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot.

Fig. 4. “Pagoda Near Krei Tech.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot.

Fig. 5. “Koinobori Wind Turbines and Skyscrapers.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot. ​ ​

Moreover, the capacity for the setting to advance the hybrid agenda is increased when considering how the backstory of San Fransokyo can be read as a re­historicization of Japanese­American culture. As a logical explanation for the near­future existence of San Fransokyo, art director Scott Watanabe speculated that “after the 1906 earthquake in San Francisco, Japanese immigrants rebuilt the place using techniques that allow movement and flexibility in a seismic event” (Julius, 19). Japanese culture, along with architecture, eventually occupied such an integral role that the city was re­named San Fransokyo in honor of the contributions of both cultures. If the juxtaposition of disparate cultural elements in the city’s design seems unusually harmonious in Big Hero 6, this may ​ ​ be on account of this idealistic alternate history, which reviewer Sean Miura, writing for Nerds of Color, observes is ​ ​ a far cry from the anti­Japanese sentiment encapsulated by the passing of the 1906 Naturalization Act in the same year, which mandated that only White immigrants could become naturalized citizens. Although this backstory is never mentioned in the film, the additional context of hybridity present in the film’s production evokes the utopian nature of Bhabian theory, wherein even cultures with animosity can quite literally become “mutually dependent in constructing a shared culture” (Haj, 31). This reading is further supported by how San Fransokyo differentiates itself from dystopian fusion cities in film history, such as the oft­studied settings of well­established films Blade Runner (Ridley Scott, 1982) and Ghost ​ ​ ​ in the Shell (Mamoru Oshii, 1995), which have been analyzed in contexts of hybridity by science fiction researcher ​ Wong Kin Yuen. While Disney animators cited both films as an influence on the overall aesthetic of Big Hero 6, ​ and the nighttime back­alleys of San Fransokyo do bear some similarity to the seedier locations of both films, the portrayal of San Fransokyo distinguishes itself by avoiding the domination of a chaotic, neo­noir density of urban signage and establishments, or a fragmented cyberpunk tone; thus, steering clear of dystopian subtexts such as “decadence, anarchy, and fantasy on one hand, and a mistrusted high­tech hyper­reality on the other” (Yuen, 1). Instead, Big Hero 6 achieves a sense of distinct, utopian realness through a more celebratory approach to mise en ​ ​ scène (see figs. 6­7). Whereas Halper and Muzzio, writing in Journal of American Culture, see the degenerate Los ​ ​ Angeles of Blade Runner as regressing into a “third world country” that “does not celebrate multiculturalism”; they ​ ​ would most likely consider San Fransokyo the opposite ­ a clearly developed, thriving multicultural metropolis, if the stunning proliferation of skyscrapers, a state­of­the­art technology sector, and the gentrified neighborhoods Hiro and his multiracial group of friends live in are any indication (387).

Fig. 6. “Street in Blade Runner.” Stillsfrmfilms.wordpress.com. Warner Bros. Studio, 1982. Screenshot. 3 August 2013. ​ ​ ​ ​

Fig. 7. “Street in Big Hero 6.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot. ​ ​

Additionally, Big Hero 6 enhances the utopian qualities of San Fransokyo as Third Space through the ​ ​ employment of advanced animation technologies and innovative cinematography falling under the category of hyper­realism. This animation style, characteristic of Disney­Pixar, is defined by Catmull as “a stylized realism … with a lifelike feel without being photorealistic” and by Pallant as “a self­regulated mediation of the ‘real’” (Pallant, 133). This is significant since technological innovations allow for greater focus on and naturalization of stylized realities shown on­screen, including social realities. Specifically, the hyper­realism of Big Hero 6 augments the ​ hybridity agenda by illuminating the city’s blended Japanese­American aesthetic in a flattering light, making the city seem highly realistic, yet both familiar and alien, and neither American nor Japanese. This effect is best seen in the opening aerial shots, where the use of new rendering systems ­ Hyperion for light, and Denizen for crowd complexity ­ allow for an impressive and lifelike exploration of San Fransokyo. The shots reveal a city bright with a medley of warm, sodium lights and cooler, white lights inspired by blending the atmospheric temperaments of Tokyo and San Francisco. Below street lamps, neon jumbotrons, and train stations, six thousand distinct characters drive cars and walk along the streets (see fig. 8). The overall impression is of a bustling city profiting from its embrace of modernity and hybridity, and the utopian message is enhanced by the hyper­realism of other scenes in the film, such as the unshakeable naturalism of the soft, warm light over the bay during Hiro and Baymax’s first successful test flight (see fig. 9). In summary, the animation works with the aesthetic in naturalizing a beautified reading of San Fransokyo as the Third Space.

Fig. 8. “Urban Lighting.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot.

Fig. 9. “Natural Lighting.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot.

In this discussion of San Fransokyo as the Third Space, it is worth noting that any incorporation of foreign culture by a Western film risks succumbing to Orientalism, or the imposition of Western reading on that culture. However, I would argue that by merit of Big Hero 6’s nuanced and cognizant Western reading of Japanese culture, ​ ​ which is more reflexive than in Orientalist cases, the representation of San Fransokyo still stands as hybrid and progressive.1 While Big Hero 6 is by no means a “true” representation of American or Japanese culture, its approach ​ ​ to the Japanese elements in Japanese­American culture is respectful and conscientious, and refrains from using fictionalist Orientalist texts as its only points of reference. Instead, calling the film “a visual love letter to Japan”, directors Don Hall and Chris Williams looked to Japanese films, such as Akira (Katsuhiro Ôtomo, 1988) and the ​ ​ oeuvre of Hayao Miyazaki for inspiration (Julius, 14). Moreover, a certain level of authenticity was demanded in the animators’ proposed Japanese motifs informed by several research trips to Tokyo; to the point where Japanese journalists, upon seeing the movie, were impressed by how the film managed to replicate the exact stacking of empty beer and sake bottles required by Tokyo’s complex recycling system (Collin). In short, Big Hero 6 distances ​ ​ itself from the Orientalizing tradition by incorporating and translating authentic details of the foreign culture in its fluid, hybrid cultural reading, as opposed to consulting other Eurocentric or Americentric sources to posit a more essentialist vision of Japanese culture. However, for all its progressiveness, the hybrid representation of San Fransokyo remains problematized by latent hierarchies in the process of its world­construction. San Fransokyo may not be overtly Orientalist, but to some extent it is still what Bhabha would criticize as an “non­equivalent site of representation” contrary to the balance of 8

cultures suggested by hybridity (qtd. in Yuen, 4). Japanese and American cultural signs are clearly delineated by American geography forming the ‘base’ of the city while Japanese elements constitute the ‘decorations’. Japanese signage, lanterns, food stalls, and cars can be found everywhere in San Fransokyo, but this incorporation is superficial; San Fransokyo is fundamentally an exact geographical copy of San Francisco due to animators adapting the city’s open data program. The unquestioned use of San Francisco as the base for hybrid world­construction is problematic since it embodies an assumption of American culture as the norm for or foundation of global culture, suggesting an ethnocentrism at odds with the hybrid agenda of the film. San Fransokyo is San Francisco, but Japanified, and not as easily read as Tokyo, but Americanized; a distinction that weakens the idea that both cultures equally influence and merge with one another. Admittedly, the use of San Francisco as the base is understandable since the film was made by Disney for a primarily American audience, but it is worrisome that the contradictions of a hybrid utopia where Japanese elements constitute the ‘decorations’ alone is ultimately subsumed by the hyper­real naturalization of the film’s blended Japanese­American aesthetic, which posits a straight­forward reading of San Fransokyo as Third Space. Besides its process of world­construction, San Fransokyo’s hybridity is undermined by its subservience to the film’s plot. Even though the directors stated that the city was almost like a character in the film, the setting has surprisingly little to do with the story. The lack of incorporation exacerbates the sense of superficiality in including Japanese elements “like the roof shapes and color choices” while more explicit explorations of hybridity or Japanese elements are excluded from the narrative (Julius, 30). For instance, the main conflict was marketed as Hiro trying to save San Fransokyo, but in the film, Hiro is more concerned about avenging his brother’s death than the preservation of his hybrid city. It is also telling that despite the propensity of Japanese signage in San Fransokyo, implying that a sizable population is fluent in Japanese (including Hiro, Tadashi, and Cass since Japanese writing is visible in their home), the narrative is never advanced by the use of Japanese language, even one as simple as the reading of a Japanese sign. Although the animators stated that they attempted to fix incorrect kanji characters, ​ ​ generating over two­hundred unique Japanese signs for the film, these attempts seem somewhat shallow in promoting hybridity, as they are largely for decorative purposes (Julius, 34). To summarize, the setting of Big Hero ​ ​ 6 is posited as a hybrid utopia, but it is not yet fully the Third Space. ​

Hiro as Hybrid Hero

At another point in his essay, Bhabha writes that through the Third Space, “we may elude the politics of polarity and emerge as the others of our selves” (157). The hybrid flexibility of cultural identity is apparent in the characterization of Big Hero 6, which attempts to resist stereotyping and binary oppositions. This is most ​ ​ pronounced in Hiro, who character designer Shiyoon Kim modeled after Asian­American youth and described as “embodying the mash­up aesthetic of the world he lives in” (Julius, 80). Hiro is Disney’s first explicitly mixed­race protagonist and is portrayed by Ryan Potter, who is also of mixed­race heritage; a casting choice that the Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center praised as ground­breaking, lending further support to the film’s hybrid agenda (Luis). By Hiro’s name alone, the film already implies a re­historicization of the Western notions of the hero. Hiro’s superhero origin story, bildungsroman, and role as a leader Bhabha’s writings on “a liberator who initiates the ​ productive instability of revolutionary cultural change as a bearer of hybrid identity” (156). Hiro, as a Japanese­American, is certainly a bearer of hybrid identity, and this hybridity is compounded by his inhabitancy of multiple liminal spaces. Liminality, as defined by Napier, is “a threshold state … associated with aspects of ritual, initiation” and by Victor Turner as “being betwixt and between” (Napier 291; 295). Hiro is triply liminal ­ he is between cultures, stages of life (childhood and adulthood), and moralities (heroism and anti­heroism). In several scenes, he struggles with his desire for revenge and what Baymax diagnoses as “pubescent mood swings”. Hiro’s liminality strengthens his reading as a hybrid character. In terms of cultural hybridity, his nuanced characterization resists being labeled under Asian stereotypes such as the ‘nerd’, ‘kung­fu master’, or ‘sidekick’. Although media scholar Sunny Huang criticizes the film for not exploring Hiro’s Asian parentage and his experience as a mixed­race person, I argue that Hiro is still a progressive hybrid character in that he occupies the leading role of the film while displaying several types of hybridity, thus being far from a token Asian character. Notably, the film revolves around the friendship between Hiro and another hybrid ­ his brother’s robot nurse invention, Baymax, who becomes Hiro’s surrogate brother and helps him find closure after Tadashi’s death. The endearing, inflatable Baymax, arguably the film’s most iconic and lucrative character, also inhabits multiple liminal spaces. Firstly, although he has no ethnicity, his design can be read as being “between” Japanese

and American culture. Baymax’s face was inspired by Japanese bells at a Shinto shrine, and his ‘huggable design’ was inspired by innovations in soft robotics in American universities. The directors stated that Baymax’s nature ­ which is primarily altruistic but modified for destruction when confronting the villain ­ draws from both Japanese perceptions of robots as helpmates and American fears of robots, suggesting technological conceptions at the cross­roads of culture (Shoji; Julius, 10). In this sense, Baymax is an embodiment of a blend of Eastern and Western popular culture. Secondly, Baymax is liminal in that he has both human and robotic qualities, appearing to act in a capacity between consciousness/agency and programming. When Tadashi first introduces Baymax to Hiro, Baymax explains that he is a robot and cannot be offended; but later on in the film, Baymax appears to express affront and distress over Hiro’s re­wiring his healthcare protocol. While much more could be said on this technological hybridity, I suggest for the purposes of this reading that the centrality of Hiro and Baymax’s friendship to the story reinforce the film’s hybrid agenda. The joyous sequence when Hiro is reunited with Baymax at the film’s closure further cements Hiro and Baymax’s symbiotic relationship and serves as an allegory for the utopian benefits of embracing hybridity in all of its meanings (see fig. 10).

Fig. 10. “Utopian Hybrid Friendship.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot.

The film’s hybrid agenda is further advanced by how Hiro, enacting his identity as a programmer, eventually foregoes seeing what film scholar Eric Herhuth observes as programming’s seemingly “internal, non­negotiable structure” to view it instead as an “external set of conditions open to manipulation” (65). In Herhuth’s analysis of a related Pixar robot film, WALL­E, he reads programming as “a social metaphor for technical, ​ ​ ​ determinative, immutable structures” (65). This theme is mirrored in the beginning of Big Hero 6, where Hiro’s ​ ​ tendency to program his robots with mutually exclusive personalities can be read as a binary opposition restricting the fluidity of identity. When the viewer is first introduced to Hiro, he is participating in an illegal underground robot fighting tournament, and his robot has two faces; one being an innocuous smiley­face to lull opponents into complacency, and the other a snarling frown for employing the robot’s full fighting capabilities. Hiro, too, is somewhat two­faced; he acts like a guileless kid while actually being an accomplished con­man (see figs. 11­12). In upgrading Baymax with fighting capabilities, Hiro symbolically plugs his red skull­and­crossbones programming chip next to Tadashi’s green, smiley­faced chip; during the film’s harrowing climax, Hiro becomes so enraged that he throws out Tadashi’s chip and commands Baymax to kill the villain (see figs. 13­14). The effect of this juxtaposition is to emphasize the tragic binary oppositions that constrain Hiro’s growth. The narrative conflict is resolved by Baymax encouraging Hiro to think beyond absolutes ­ he reminds Hiro that Tadashi “will always be here” even if not physically. By the end of the film; Hiro has reconciled his productive and destructive traits. During the film’s final fight, he fluidly commands Baymax to use commands from both chips, and encourages his team to adapt their scientific prowess to “look for a new angle”, which becomes a catchphrase in the film. The message seems to be that nothing, from grief to culture, is fixed, and even identity can be an “external set of conditions open to manipulation”; an insinuation that fits well with notions of hybridity (Herhuth, 65).

Fig. 11. “Hiro as Guileless Kid.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot.

Fig. 12. “Hiro as Con­Man.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot.

Fig. 13. “Tadashi’s Chip.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot.

Fig. 14. “Hiro’s Chip.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot.

However, the hybrid agenda is problematized by the secondary characters of Big Hero 6, who fail to ​ ​ ​ embody hybridity as completely as Hiro and Baymax despite the filmmakers’ attempts to create a multicultural group of heroes. Rather than exploring the complexities of culture, the other heroes are what Edward Soja would criticize as a “pluralistic jumble of equals”, sacrificing a nuanced discussion for a semblance of cultural diversity presenting race in a fixed manner (qtd. in Bhabha, 156). On one hand, I agree that the secondary characters are more than token minority presence since they fully participate in the film’s superhero plot, but on the other hand, I argue that the characterization appears to merely reverse stereotypes. While film and television magazine Diegesis ​ applauds the film for “characters that shirk traditional stereotypes and tropes”; conversely, to reverse the stereotype is not to remove it (Russell). The characters’ backstories are hardly explored: Korean­American Go Go Tamago is squarely “an adrenaline junkie” and “speed demon” and not a polite, shy student; African­American Wasabi No­Ginger is a “risk­averse neatnik” instead of a tough, brazen muscleman; Latina Honey Lemon is a sweet, clever chemist as opposed to an over­sexualized service worker; Caucasian Fred, who appears to be “the dirtiest, grungiest, slacker­est member of the team” is actually phenomenally wealthy (see fig. 15) (Julius 107; 113; 119; 124). But the ​ ​ reversal of these stereotypes is not as progressive as they seem since they fundamentally traffick in binary oppositions, trading in one fixed image for another and thus at the very least hinting to latent power structures undermining the film’s hybrid agenda.

Fig. 15 “Big Hero 6 Team.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot.

Perhaps most worryingly, the film contains latent power structures legitimizing white privilege in nearly every institution shown, despite being set in a hybrid world. Figures of authority in San Fransokyo (at least, those who have authority over Hiro) are disproportionately white. For example, Caucasian characters Aunt Cass, Robert Callaghan, and Alistair Krei occupy the highest positions of power in the film: Cass is the proxy matriarch of the Hamada household, Callaghan is the renowned robotics professor who serves as the gatekeeper to admission to the university Hiro wants to attend, and Krei is a billionaire industrialist looking to develop Hiro’s inventions (see fig. 16). Even the policeman and the military officials given lines in the film are white; the fact that the only Caucasian member of the superhero team, Fred, is by far the most socio­economically well­off also merits critical attention. Besides Hiro, Go Go, and Tadashi (who dies early in the film), the only other Asian authority in San Fransokyo with dialogue is Mr. Yama, an underground gang boss who appears in only one scene. To summarize, the dearth of Asian characters in legitimate positions of power further problematizes the film’s position of San Fransokyo as a hybrid utopia wherein cultures are equally represented.

Fig. 16. “Callaghan and Krei Attempting to Sway Hiro’s Opinion.” Walt Disney Animation Studios, 2014. Author’s screenshot.

4. Conclusion and Future Directions

In conclusion, Big Hero 6 paves the way for progressive racial representation through its hybrid setting and main ​ ​ ​ characters, but audiences should bear in mind that Bhabha’s Third Space is not so easily achieved. It is ironically fitting that Lasseter describes San Fransokyo as a modern, mythical place: the world of Big Hero 6 is representative ​ of the contemporary American view of the hybrid utopia, yet this place is indeed ultimately “mythical” as its very construct is flawed. It is sobering to realize that despite Big Hero 6’s blended Japanese­American mise en scène and ​ ​ the liminality of its main characters, its hybrid agenda is undermined by latent hierarchies suggested by the process of its own world construction, and binary oppositions constraining the development of its own secondary characters. However, by merit of Big Hero 6’s well­meaning attempts to portray hybridity, this film analysis does ​ ​ imply actionable solutions for the media industry. Studios should follow Big Hero 6’s lead in portraying hybrid ​ ​ settings and characters with a firm denouncement of Orientalism and tokenism; however, they ought to go further by integrating hybrid settings into their stories, and featuring diverse, fully developed characters who are more than the reversal of stereotypes. With the sequel Big Hero 6 TV series slated for release in 2017, Disney has the opportunity ​ to spearhead this change themselves by re­examining their approach to San Fransokyo. By delving more deeply into the city’s Japanese elements, providing more nuanced backstories for the rest of the superhero team, and introducing additional non­white characters in positions of authority, Disney can more fully realize Big Hero 6’s hybrid agenda. ​ ​ In context of the broader field of film studies, the implications of this research is that more critical attention should be dedicated to studying the relationships between animation and the promotion of alternative ideologies. This analysis of Big Hero 6 has shown that although innovations in storytelling technologies can appear to create ​ novel worlds free of the dominant ideologies of our own, these technologies may also at times distract from,

subsume, and naturalize problematic social constructs, as evidenced by the hyper­realism of San Fransokyo glossing over its latent hierarchies. As digital film­making techniques become increasingly sophisticated and salient in mediascape, it would serve film scholars well to be reasonably skeptical of the progressiveness of their world­building qualities, and explore further the interplay of modern technologies and the ideologies they present on­screen. Although hybridity in Big Hero 6 may seem of concern to only a small group of media scholars, this ​ ​ research should in fact concern anyone who cares about racial representation. After all, as Hiro suggests in the film, it is only through looking at issues through new angles that we can come to understand their adaptability and capacity for betterment. Film studies, with its multidisciplinary approach to analyzing film, culture, and society, may just be one way to advocate for these changes.

1. Orientalism is generally distinguished by the Western domination of culture­specific texts. For example, Disney’s Aladdin is considered an Orientalist text by film scholars such as Leslie Felperin since the film occupies a ​ story of culture­specific significance ­ One Thousand and One Arabian Nights ­ with an empathetically Western ​ ​ worldview and yet attempts to mimic Arabian aesthetics in its presentation, thus appearing to try pass its reading as emerging from purely Arabian, and not American, influence. Felperin further characterized Orientalism in Aladdin ​ through an engagement with other Eurocentric accounts, “fictionalist Orientalist texts” (139). In contrast, Big Hero 6 ​ inhabits an explicitly novel hybrid world that does not attempt to occupy any culture­specific text; the obscure titular Marvel comic series that the film was loosely based on lacked widespread significance to American or Japanese culture.

Appendix A Glossary of Key Critical Terms

Binary oppositions ­ Either/or categories such as us/them, black/white, good/evil, based on fixed images of others (Nichols, 494)

Hybridity/Third Space ­ Radical re­imagining of racial politics where cultures converge, combine, and are continuously changing (Bhabha, 155­157)

Hyper­realism ­ A stylized realism that is life­like and yet not photorealistic; a self­regulated mediation of the ‘real’ (Pallant, 133)

Liminality ­ A threshold state defined by Victor Turner as being “betwixt and between”; associated with aspects of ritual, initiation, and even ‘carnival’ (Napier 291; 295)

Mise en scène ­ The arrangement of the so­called theatrical elements before they are actually filmed; these include sets, lighting, costumes, and props (Nichols, 506)

Orientalism ­ Imposing Western readings and writings onto foreign cultures; particularly Asian or Middle Eastern cultures (Felperin, 137)

Tokenism ­ Superficially including one or a small amount of characters from a minority or marginalised group in order to appear inclusive (Hodkinson, 298)

Appendix B Additional References on Film Analysis and Research Design

Bordwell, David, and Kristin Thompson. Film Art: An Introduction. 10 (International Student Edition) ed. New ​ ​ York, NY: McGraw­Hill, 2012. Print. Collins, Jim, Hilary Radner, and Ava Preacher Collins. Film Theory Goes to the Movies. New York: Routledge, ​ ​ 1993. Print. Corrigan, Timothy. A Short Guide to Writing about Film. 9th ed. New York: Pearson Longman, 2014. Print. ​ ​ Creswell, John W. Research Design: Qualitative, Quantitative, and Mixed Methods Approaches. 4th ed. Thousand ​ ​ Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2013. Print. Elza, C. "Alice in Cartoonland: Childhood, Gender, and Imaginary Space in Early Disney Animation." Animation ​ 9.1 (2014): 7­26. Web. 7 Dec. 2015. Hayward, Susan. Cinema Studies: The Key Concepts. Third ed. London: Routledge, 2006. Print. ​ ​ Herhuth, Eric. "Cooking like a Rat: Sensation and Politics in Disney­Pixarś Ratatouille." Quarterly Review of Film ​ and Video 31.5 (2014): 469­85. Print. ​ Herhuth, Eric. "The Medium as the Monster: Cultural Reproduction versus Environmental Change in Pixar's Monsters, Inc." Fossil, Renewable, Futuristic: Energy in the Movies. Proc. of SCMS Annual Conference, ​ ​ Sheraton Seattle Hotel, Seattle. Society for Cinema and Media Studies, n.d. Web. 5 Mar. 2016. Jacobs, Christopher P. "Film Theory and Approaches to Criticism, Or, What Did That Movie Mean?" Christopher ​ Jacobs. University of North Dakota, 5 Jan. 2013. Web. 04 Nov. 2015. ​ . Kellner, Douglas, Flo Leibowitz, and Michael Ryan. "Blade Runner: A Diagnostic Critique." Jump Cut 29 (1984): ​ ​ 6­8. Print. Yu, Timothy. "Oriental Cities, Postmodern Futures: Naked Lunch, Blade Runner, and Neuromancer." Melus 33.4 ​ ​ (2008): 45­71. Print.

Works Cited

Bell, Elizabeth, Lynda Haas, and Laura Sells. From Mouse to Mermaid: The Politics of Film, Gender, and Culture. ​ ​ Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1995. Print. Benhamou, E. (2014). From the Advent of Multiculturalism to the Erasure of Race: The Representation of Race Relations in Disney Animated Features (1995­2009). Exchanges: The Warwick Research Journal, 2(1), ​ ​ 153­167. Retrieved from http://exchanges.warwick.ac.uk/exchanges/index.php/exchanges/article/view/53. ​ ​ "Big Hero 6 (2014)." IMDb. IMDb.com, n.d. Web. 10 Feb. 2016. . ​ ​ Big Hero 6. Dir. Don Hall and Chris Williams. Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures, 2014. ​ Collin, Robbie. "Why Big Hero 6 Is Disney's Most Lovable Creation in Years." The Telegraph. Telegraph Media ​ ​ Group, 19 Feb. 2015. Web. 27 Mar. 2016. . ​ ​ Felperin, Leslie. “The Thief of Buena Vista: Disney’s Aladdin and Orientalism”. A Reader in Animation Studies. ​ ​ Ed. Jayne Pilling. Indiana University Press, 1997. 137–142. Web. 9 Dec. 2015. Geiger, Jeffrey, and R. L. Rutsky, eds. Film Analysis: A Norton Reader. 2nd ed. New York: W. W. Norton, 2013. ​ ​ Print. Halper, Thomas, and Douglas Muzzio. "Hobbes in the City: Urban Dystopias in American Movies." The Journal of ​ American Culture 30.4 (2007): 379­90. Web. 4 Mar. 2016. ​ Herhuth, Eric. "Life, Love, and Programming: The Culture and Politics of WALL­E and Pixar Computer Animation." Cinema Journal 53.4 (2014): 53­75. Academic Search Complete. Web. 7 Oct. 2015. ​ ​ ​ ​ Hodkinson, Paul. Media, Culture and Society: An Introduction. London: SAGE, 2010. Print. ​ ​ Homi K. Bhabha, “Cultural Diversity and Cultural Differences,” The Post­Colonial Studies Reader, ed. B. Ashcroft, ​ ​ G. Griffiths, H. Tiffin, Routledge, New York 2006, p. 155–157. Huang, Sunny. "I Used To Be Excited for Big Hero 6: An Asian­American's Perspective." Web log post. N.p., 7 Nov. 2014. Web. 11 Sept. 2015.

Julius, Jessica. The Art of Big Hero 6. San Francisco: Chronicle, 2014. Print. ​ ​ Keegan, Rebecca. "San Fransokyo Architects Built a New World for Disney’s ‘Big Hero 6’." Hero Complex. Los ​ ​ Angeles Times, 24 Oct. 2014. Web. 27 Mar. 2016. . Kelts, Roland. "Japan and America Meet in "Big Hero 6"" The New Yorker. N.p., 14 Nov. 2014. Web. 29 Sept. ​ ​ 2015. Luis, Adriel. "‘Big Hero 6’ Shows That an Asian American Cast Can Top the Box Office." SmithsonianAPA. ​ ​ Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center, 10 Nov. 2014. Web. 28 Mar. 2016. . Maasik, Sonia, and Jack Solomon. Signs of Life in the U.S.A.: Readings on Popular Culture for Writers. 7th ed. ​ ​ Boston, MA: Bedford/St. Martins, 2012. Print. Miura, Sean. "Seeing San Fransokyo: Thoughts on Big Hero 6." The Nerds of Color. The Nerds of Color, 03 Mar. ​ ​ 2015. Web. 04 Mar. 2016. Napier, Susan J. "Matter out of Place: Carnival, Containment, and Cultural Recovery in Miyazaki's " Spirited Away "" Journal of Japanese Studies 32.2 (2006): 287­310. JSTOR. Web. 06 Dec. 2015. ​ ​ ​ ​ Nichols, Bill. Engaging Cinema: An Introduction to Film Studies. New York: W.W. Norton, 2010. Print. ​ ​ Pallant, Chris. Demystifying Disney: A History of Disney Feature Animation. New York: Continuum, 2011. Print. ​ ​ Russell, Laurence. "Big Hero 6." Diegesis Magazine. Southampton Solent University, 16 Mar. 2015. Web. 27 Mar. ​ ​ 2016. . Shoji, Kaori. "Disney’s ‘Big Hero 6′ Reassembles Japan without the ‘cultural Cringe’." The Japan Times. Toshiaki ​ ​ Ogasawara, 17 Dec. 2014. Web. 28 Mar. 2016. . ​ Snetiker, Mark. "Big Hero 6 Animated TV Series Zooms to Disney XD for 2017." EW.com. Entertainment Weekly, ​ ​ 2 Mar. 2016. Web. 28 Mar. 2016. . Wells, Paul. "Animation: Forms and Meanings." An Introduction to Film Studies. Ed. Jill Nelmes. 2nd ed. London: ​ ​ Routledge, 1999. 237­63. Print. Wells, Paul. Understanding Animation. London: Routledge, 1998. Print. ​ ​ Yazdiha, Haj. "Conceptualizing Hybridity: Deconstructing Boundaries through the Hybrid." Formations 1.1 (2010): ​ ​ 31­38. Print. Yuen, Wong Kin. "On the Edge of Spaces: "Blade Runner," "Ghost in the Shell," and Hong Kong's Cityscape." Science Fiction Studies 27.1 (2000): 1­21. Academic Search Complete. Web. 10 Feb. 2016. ​ ​ ​

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Review: In ‘Big Hero 6,’ Disney does Marvel

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As the Disney-Marvel mash-up “Big Hero 6" moves toward its big-action finale, the images will look strikingly familiar. A supervillain wreaks havoc. A portal to another dimension looms. A showdown goes airborne over a metropolis.

It could be the finale of a dozen superhero films, with one difference: “Big Hero 6" is animated. But the majority of comic-book films are also computer-generated, particularly their large set pieces. Never has that been clearer than witnessing just how similar such scenes look as out-and-out cartoons. It’s a little like seeing that the superhero has no clothes.

The 3-D “Big Hero 6" is loosely based on a little-known Marvel comic about a team of superheros. Crafting a more kid-friendly version, Disney (which owns Marvel) has focused on one of the heroes, the aptly named Hiro Hamada (voiced by Ryan Potter).

With his older brother, Tadashi (Daniel Henney) and their aunt Cass (Maya Rudolph), the 14-year-old Hiro lives in San Fransokyo, a beautifully rendered fusion of Tokyo and San Francisco, full of both nighttime neon and steep-hilled, Bay-area panoramas.

Hiro, whose parents died when he was a toddler, is an avid gamer happy to use his technical wizardry hustling unwitting competitors in underground “bot fights.” His tiny, gingerbread man-sized robot makes mincemeat of more hulking machines.

Tadashi disapproves but doesn’t lecture Hiro, instead casually exposing him to his college, San Fransokyo Tech. Though Hiro initially dismisses it as “nerd school,” he discovers it to be a vibrant breeding ground of invention. He’s wowed by Tadashi’s schoolmates — Wasabi (Damon Wayans Jr.), Honey Lemon (Genesis Rodriguez), Gogo (Jamie Chung) and Fred (T.J. Miller) — and their gizmos.

None is more impressive than Tadashi’s robot, a marshmallow balloon “personal health care consultant” named Baymax (Scott Adsit), created with a “non-threatening, huggable” design. He’s like an Obamacare dream, had the president drifted off during a Michelin commercial.

With a quick scan, he can diagnose any ailment. Looking Hiro over and detecting mood swings, he pronounces: “Diagnosis: Puberty.” When his battery life wanes, he loses air pressure and begins to drunkenly slur his speech.

In short, he’s an irresistible Disney supporting player, one who will give Groot, the soulful treelike alien of “Guardians of the Galaxy,” a run for sidekick-of-the-year.

After a mysterious fiery accident at an invention showcase, Hiro and Baymax set off on an adventure that will gradually gather all the expected superhero conventions, slowly draining the movie’s innovative Silicon Valley spirit.

So buoyant is the first half of “Big Hero 6" and so colorful is its bright, Japanese anime-inspired palette, that the film’s slide into familiar comic book-movie ruts comes as a disappointment. Could it not have stayed in its rich robotics world as a high-tech high-school tale? Are such Earth-bound stories no longer possible for big-studio animation? Can’t a kid grow up without flying up?

Directed by Don Hall (“Winnie the Pooh”) and Chris Williams (“Bolt”), “Big Hero 6" is a fine blend of sweetness and spectacle, East and West. The meeting of Disney and Marvel sensibilities, though, is a more mixed union. When the young Hiro and the lovable Baymax strap on the body armor, girding for battle, the movie’s charms are camouflaged.

“Big Hero 6" is preceded by a lovely little short, “Feast,” a tale of a Boston Terrier’s devotion to his owner, told exclusively, and cleverly, through mealtime. It makes for a tasty appetizer.

“Big Hero 6,” a Disney release, is rated PG by the Motion Picture Association of America for “action and peril, some rude humor and thematic elements.” Running time: 95 minutes. Two and a half stars out of four.

MPAA definition of PG: Parental guidance suggested. Some material may not be suitable for children.

Follow AP Film Writer Jake Coyle on Twitter at: http://twitter.com/jakecoyleAP

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• Science Fiction Film and Television

Big Hero 6 (review)

• Richard J. Leskosky
• Liverpool University Press
• Volume 10, Issue 1, Spring 2017
• pp. 137-141
• View Citation

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What is AP Research and How Do I Find a Topic of Inquiry?

10 min read • december 22, 2021

Dylan Black

Introduction to AP Research

Welcome to the second class in the AP Capstone program! Fresh out of AP Seminar, you're ready to take on the next and final step in your journey to earning a Capstone Diploma: AP Research. AP Research is a class that is all about the students . That's right, the students. This class can be summed up in one word: individualistic . As will be seen in just a few minutes, the class truly is what you make of it. In this guide, we'll dive right into it with what AP Research is all about, what differs it from Seminar, and how to find the perfect topic of inquiry and research question .

Source: Tenor

What is AP Research?

AP Research is a beast 👹 of a course, and while this might be coming from my perspective as a veteran of the course, most students will agree that it is a TON of work, and only 8 to 9 months maximum to do it.

While AP Seminar consists of using collected, already established evidence to prove points, AP Research has you collecting your own data. Meaning you'll need to conduct a study, analyze content, experiment, or whatever you want.

Seriously. Whatever your little heart ❤️ desires.

I’ve seen papers on milk cartons, data mining on social media, Disney’s Big Hero Six, and everything in between. In my class alone, there were students studying nutrition, concerts, climate change, water cleanliness, and so much more. The only thing that truly ties together these papers is that they are new, original research that adds to a body of knowledge. Pretty broad, we know.

To further push this point, here are some sample AP Research paper titles from high scoring students:

“Making Health Education LGBTQ+ Inclusive in Vermont High Schools”

“Growth For Good: How Past Experiences Motivate Executives to Join Double Bottom Line Organizations in The Indian Construction Industry”

“Music Chemistry: The Formula of K-Pop”

And those are just from 2017 alone. AP Research lets loose the reins and allows students to quite literally go wild on whatever they want to study. That's why AP Research is such an awesome course .

There are five required sections to the paper: an introduction, a literature review , a methodology , data and/or results and analysis, a conclusion, and a bibliography . The following guides will follow this structure as you go through the AP Research journey.

Throughout the year, students do intensive, in-depth research into a specific discipline , identify a gap in that field, and fill it. This includes conducting a formal literature review ; designing a proper, justifiable methodology that will fill the gap; and, finally, actually doing it. The first step of it all, however, is finding a topic, and that's what we'll take a look at first.

How to Find A Topic of Inquiry

What even is a topic of inquiry.

A topic of inquiry can be defined fairly succinctly: it is the topic that a paper covers. For example: if you are studying education, a topic of inquiry may be "the impacts of flipped classrooms on high school level regular, honors, and AP math classes". Note that the topic of inquiry is detailed and specific. This might seem really simple, but in reality, figuring this out can in fact be one of the hardest parts of this class. Odds are, your teacher had you thinking about this early, maybe even over the summer. Many students think topic of inquiry = discipline . This is NOT true. A discipline is the broad area of study that a paper is focused within. For example, disciplines include economics, film, art, chemistry, physics, music, and even broader, hard sciences, social sciences, humanities, etc. Rather, a topic of inquiry is narrow. It's specific. Think of it this way: if someone put all of a class's topics of inquiry in a hat and pulled them at random, they should be able to easily identify each person who wrote that paper, even if a few students had similar broad focuses.

Finding a Broad Focus

The first step in finding a topic of inquiry is identifying a discipline . This can be a subject you want to major in, a passion of yours, or just something you want to learn more about. Personally, I suggest going with something you have some prior knowledge in, but that doesn't mean you can't explore something new. On a similar note, you may go into Research with what you think is a plan, the perfect plan, a research question and topic of inquiry that will carry you straight to a 5. However, when starting Research, expect for your plans to change . I'll use myself as an example. The summer going into AP Research, I was dead set on doing educational research. I even had a topic of inquiry in mind: I was going to study the impacts of flipped classrooms on different levels of classes (AP, Honors, etc.). Perfect, beautiful, time to win Research. However , this plan very quickly fell apart, and by the end of October, I was re-narrowing a topic of focus about Moon , a science fiction film by Duncan Jones.

In my philosophy, finding your "perfect topic" isn't something you can necessarily "try" to do. If you keep asking yourself "is this my topic?" you'll overthink and keep flip flopping. Instead, you'll know your topic when you see it. I know this sounds sappy and almost romantic, but it's true (heck, my teacher referred to "marrying" your topic at least 3 times). I first watched Moon in chemistry class nearly a YEAR before Research started and I found myself studying its themes of Marxism within two months out of nowhere.

Narrowing a Focus and Finding a Gap in . . . Wait For It . . . Research!

So you've got a broad focus, now what? At this point, you want to start narrowing it down . When I say narrowing, I mean taking what is typically a broad idea and doing research (ah, there's the dreaded word!) to go from this broad topic to a true topic of inquiry . Before we get into this, let's start talking about gaps .

What is a Gap?

Image from Medium .

AP Research is all about finding and closing a gap in the body of knowledge . These are some new terms, so let's start by defining them.

The body of knowledge is all of the "stuff" that is known about your broad focus. For example, let's suppose you have decided that you want to study perceptions of advertising among different age groups (this was just a random off the cusp topic—if you don't want to do something like this, that is fine ). Obviously, this broad a topic has been studied. The body of knowledge is all of that stuff that HAS been studied. Essentially, it is the research questions that have already been addressed and therefore have already been covered. Your goal in AP Research is to find a question that hasn't been answered and then answer it! That's where the gap comes in.

Get very, very used to this term folks. The gap describes this tiny bit of research that has not been uncovered, and guess whose job it is to uncover it? YOU!!!! Welcome to the purpose of AP Research: filling the gap .

The idea of the gap can feel super intimidating, and that's because it is! Research is so crazy deep and so intense and the idea of having to find something nobody has studied can feel impossible. In fact, it really is. There is no way to read every paper on every subtopic of subtopic of your body of knowledge. On this point, by filling the gap, I'm not saying you have to make a revolutionary discovery and save the world. In fact, the opposite applies to the majority of AP Research papers. Odds are, you're not about to cure cancer or solve global warming with your paper. Instead, find something small and very niche about your topic—which isn't to say it won't be interesting/important to your discipline and certainly not the discourage you, just that most AP Research papers aren't going to be published in Nature anytime soon.

On a similar note, feasibility is a really important part of narrowing down your focus. When coming up with a topic of inquiry , understand your limitations. You are (assuming school starts in August) given approximately 10 months to conduct your research, write your paper, and do your presentation. While you shouldn't let this hold you back, you should know that you cannot plan anything super large or super time consuming. For example, you may really want to study a population over multiple years, but you simply don't have the time.

For example, suppose your topic of inquiry was "migration patterns of blue whales between June and September in the Northeast Atlantic." While this is a super interesting topic and one that may be a really great paper, it is far from feasible. Not only is there the problem of location, but timing and the sheer expense of taking on a project like this is simply not feasible. In some cases, like perhaps in this one, the solution may unfortunately be to pick a different topic. However, if you're able to make your topic more feasible by adjusting things for timing, costs, etc. you'll have a better topic in the end.

Finding the Gap With the Power of Little-R Research

So now that we understand what the gap is and why it's important, let's talk about how to find the gap. The simple answer is research! When I say research in this context, I'm referring to what's called " little-r research " . This means that I'm referring to the use of databases and other tools to find already published work, basically what you did in AP Seminar last year. By comparison, " big-R Research " can be described as your generation of new data and facts that have not been figured out yet. These are by no means scientific terms, but can help when describing how we do research/Research.

When doing your little-r research , you want to use databases and collect as much data and papers as you can. I recommend finding 50+ sources about your topic, slowly narrowing down as you go forward. By reading and really diving deep into these sources you'll be able to A) slowly figure out what questions you have and B) narrow down your topic of inquiry to eventually finding (drumroll . . .) A GAP!!! This is NOT an easy process and will take a lot of thinking and effort on your end, but eventually you'll find a very VERY specific topic of inquiry that will fill a gap situated in a body of knowledge AND you'll essentially be an expert in your topic. Seriously, this is going to be like drinking information from a firehose.

A visual model of a gap. Source: Psychological Health Center of Excellence

A Note on Credibility and Choice of Sources

When doing your little-r research , it's important to take note of new standards of credibility and how to choose your sources. In Seminar, the most typical form of credibility was someone's credentials: things like PhDs, other degrees, positions, etc. While this still plays a large role in credibility in Research, it goes one step farther here. No longer is just someone's degree a telling sign of their credibility, but also their prior research. As you get more and more specific, you need experts .

For example, let's suppose that we moved from our broader topic of perceptions of advertising among different age groups to now finding a gap and filling it by researching how Baby Boomers vs. members of Gen-Z respond to advertising on social media platforms, specifically comparing TikTok to Instagram (again, random topic and a random gap. This is all for example purposes!). First and foremost, dang, our topic has become focused! But secondly, when doing our little-r research now, the papers that we read have to be just as focused. Therefore, when evaluating credibility, we want people with this in-depth specific, knowledge, not just "PhD in Advertising".

Furthermore, the sources that you use will vary greatly based on your question, discipline , and focus. A paper on medicine is going to have a MUCH different source layout than historical research or economic research. Thus, you want to learn how your discipline conducts research on an individual level and what sources are optimal for your eventual introduction and literature review .

Whew! That was . . . a lot. However, you now know how to figure out what you want your topic to be and are ready to officially start the research process! AP Research is a beast of a course, but with the proper time and effort, it is truly a class that allows students to explore their interests and become an in depth expert on a specific topic. In the next guide we'll take a look at writing the introduction to your paper. Good luck!

Image from GIPHY .

Key Terms to Review ( 13 )

Bibliography

Big-R Research

Data Collection

Feasibility

Formal Literature Review

Literature Review

Little-r research

Methodology

Research Question

Topic of Inquiry

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