Examining Ideology in NBC's Timeless

Timeless or Timeliness? Examining Ideology in NBC’s Timeless

A thesis submitted to the Graduate School of the University of Cincinnati

in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Master of Arts

In the Department of Communication of the College of Arts and Sciences by

Sarah A. Willis

Bachelor of Science, California Polytechnic State University, San Luis Obispo

June 2012

Committee chair: Eric Jenkins, Ph.D.

Committee members: Omotayo Banjo, Ph.D., Stephen Depoe, Ph.D.

Abstract

In this study, the researcher examines ideology of gender and race by performing a close textual

analysis of NBC’s time-travel television drama, Timeless. This case study is guided by the general question, “To what extent does Timeless advance existing dominant ideologies through its representations of gender and race?” Overall, the study finds that Timeless somewhat advances existing dominant ideology by portraying gender and race according to negotiated frameworks. In other words, Timeless perpetuates dominant-hegemonic ideology in some ways and pushes back on this ideology in others. Additionally, Timeless does this by using both existing and new techniques. An example of one of these new techniques is a new concept called

“caveatic postmodern nostalgia,” which refers to a type of postmodern nostalgia in which characters celebrate or are excited for the past, but include a critical caveat with the celebration.

The celebration is then privileged over the critical caveat. The implications of these findings are discussed.

iii

Acknowledgments

There are many people that contributed to the success of this project that I would like to thank here. First, thank you to my advisor, Dr. Eric Jenkins, for his sincere support, encouragement, advice, and thoughtful feedback throughout this project and my overall time as a graduate student. Second, thank you to my committee, Dr. Omotayo Banjo and Dr. Stephen

Depoe, for their insightful feedback and sincere support. Third, thank you to the wonderful faculty in the Graduate School, who have prepared me to complete a project like this and pursue advanced study in the future. Fourth, thank you to Dr. Michael Sharp for his support and encouragement throughout this project. Finally, thank you to my fellow graduate students and friends for the emotional support they provided throughout this process.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Introduction…………………………………………………………..1

Chapter 2: Literature and Methods…………………………………………...... 7

Chapter 3: Introduction to Findings…………………………………………….. 22

Chapter 4: Representations of Women in Timeless…………………………...... 29

Chapter 5: Representations of Race in Timeless………………………………... 46

Chapter 6: Conclusion…………………………………………………………... 72

References………………………………………………………………………. 87

List of Figures

Figure 1: Television codes (Fiske, 1990/2004)……………………………………. 8

Figure 2: Representations of race and gender (women) on Timeless……………… 28

Chapter 1: Introduction

What is it about the past that is so intriguing? Historical figures and topics have long been a subject in entertainment media such as theatre, television, and movies. The past few years in

America are no exception. For example, the 2016 Broadway hit musical Hamilton tells the story of Alexander Hamilton during the birth of the United States. The 2016 film Hidden Figures portrays the role of African American women at NASA in the 1960s. Situational comedies The

Goldbergs (2013-present) and Fresh Off The Boat (2015-present) offer memoirs of childhood in the 1980s and 1990s, respectively.

Timeless (2016-present) is another television show that features historical content.

Timeless is an hour-long fictional time travel drama series that follows the present-day adventures of Lucy (a historian), Wyatt (a Delta-force soldier), and Rufus (a scientist) as they seek to preserve history by stopping Garcia Flynn (a rogue NSA asset), who has gained control of a time machine. Season 1 aired Mondays from October 2016 through February 2017 at

10:00pm on NBC and was also available for streaming on NBC.com and the online streaming service, Hulu. The show features a racially diverse cast and plotlines that represent gender and race throughout history. In each episode, Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus follow Garcia Flynn back to a different point in time and meet historical figures such as Abraham Lincoln, Josephine Baker, and Chieftess Nonhelema. Over the course of these time travel missions, Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus discover that the United States has been engineered by the secret society, Rittenhouse.

Rittenhouse is quickly established as the primary villain of the series, and Lucy, Wyatt, and

Rufus question if they are fighting on the right side of things by working against Garcia Flynn.

Timeless and the other television shows I mentioned are all sites for the discursive construction of history and are key sites of ideology. Specifically, they are examples of

Ideological State Apparatuses (ISAs; Althusser, 1970/2004), or instruments that subtly advance ideology. In the study that follows, I examine ideology of gender and race by doing a case study of NBC’s Timeless. In this chapter, I explain the rationale for studying Timeless, its connection to ideology, and describe the general purpose and findings of this study.

Rationale

It makes sense to analyze Timeless for several reasons. First, the show’s general narrative arc and casting choices seem to seek to address salient concerns of today such as equality across genders and races. Second, the show has received high profile attention, including a feature at the

Smithsonian’s and the National Endowment for the Humanities’ second annual History Film

Forum in March 2017. There, the show’s creators (Shawn Ryan and Eric Kripke), main stars

(those who play Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus), and a Georgetown University history scholar (Brian

Taylor) engaged in a moderated discussion panel titled, “Timeless: (Re)Creating American

History.” The History Film Forum states in the panel description that the show

provide[s] a gateway for conversation around the impact of race, gender and politics

throughout the centuries on America. Through the storytelling of the series, “Timeless”

has ignited in its fans a curiosity and passion for history, making it feel exciting, current

and relevant, while providing families with a show they can watch, discuss and enjoy

together. (History Film Forum, para. 1)

This framing of the show as providing an educational opportunity for conversations about gender, race, and politics, as well as the show’s high profile attention by a historical institution, raises the stakes of Timeless’s representations. Third, Timeless has developed a strong fan following. After a series cancellation announcement, fan outcry led to a reversal of the decision and a network renewal within the course of a day.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, as a television show, Timeless is a key site of ideology and an example of an Ideological State Apparatus (ISA; Althusser, 1970/2004).

Ideology has been the subject of much scholarship, and has been a slippery concept with conceptualizations involving ‘False consciousness’ or a ‘mystified subject’ resulting in criticism.

However, there are two different yet complementary definitions of ideology that seem to best explain the concept. First, there is a more neutral, Gramscian definition provided by Stuart Hall

(1991/1996), who defines ideology as, “the mental frameworks - the languages, the concepts, categories, imagery of thought, and the systems of representation - which different classes and social groups deploy in order to make sense of, define, figure out and render intelligible the way society works” (p. 26). Second, there is a more negative, Marxist definition provided by Jorge

Larrain (1991/1996) who explains that, for Marx, ideology is a distortion or inversion of reality.

Further, “The role of ideology is to help reproduce that contradictory world in the interest of the ruling class…[it] results in the masking and reproduction of those very contradictions and forms of oppression” (Larrain, 1991/1996, p. 55). Larrain (1991/1996) argues that these two conceptualizations of ideology are complementary and necessary. The more neutral, Gramscian definition enables us to ask what makes ideology feel ‘truthful’ and what makes it appealing to those who are not served by it, while the more negative, Marxist definition enables us to ask what contradictions are masked by ideology. Both definitions consider ideology to exist materially; that is, ideology constitutes and is constituted by material situations and practices

(such as the production and watching of television programs like Timeless, for example).

Ideology operates through culture and social norms: what seems ‘obvious’ or ‘True’ are actually ideological effects (Althusser, 1970/2004; Fiske, 1987/2004). Fiske (1987/2004) explains that social norms are ideologically slanted to serve the interests of a certain social group

or groups while other social groups (whose interests are sometimes in direct opposition to such norms) simultaneously tend to accept these norms as natural. Social groups can be categorized according to many different axes of division such as class, race, gender, age, nation, political loyalties, and more (Fiske, 1987/2004). Different groups relate to each other in terms of power that is constantly contested and struggled over. Fiske (1987/2004) defines this power as, “the power to get one’s class or group interest served by the social structure as a whole” (pp. 1268-

1269). Fiske (1987/2004) and Hall (1991/1996)—who draws from the foundational linguistic scholar Vološinov—see the struggle over power in culture as a struggle over meaning, especially at the site of signs. The aim of this struggle is to naturalize meanings that serve the interests of the dominant group into society’s common sense framework.

Ideological State Apparatuses (ISAs) are a key tool for naturalizing such meanings

(Althusser, 1970/2004). Althusser (1970/2004) defines ISAs as, “distinct and specialized institutions” that proffer official or dominant ideologies (Althusser, 1970/2004, p. 42). He provides examples of ISA institutions such as the educational ISA, the political ISA, the communications ISA (such as television, press, etc.), and the cultural ISA (such as the arts, literature, etc.). He also explains that ISAs are in contrast to Repressive State Apparatuses

(RSAs), which include institutions such as the government, prisons, and military. While ISAs work primarily by ideology, RSAs work primarily by violence. Timeless, being a television show, is an example of an ISA that does ideological work to naturalize meanings into the common sense of culture.

As an ISA, Timeless exercises its ideological function through hailing and interpellation

(Althusser, 1970/2004). Althusser (1970/2004) argues that, “all ideology hails or interpellates concrete individuals as concrete subjects” (p. 47, emphasis original). He provides the example of

a police officer calling, “Hey, you there!” as an example of hailing. The process of producing a

subject is complete when the hailed individual turns around as an indication of recognizing that

the officer’s hail was addressed to him or her. The cycle of hailing and recognition produces and

reinforces ideological subjects within an ideological structure. Drawing from Althusser

(1970/2004), Fiske (1987/2004) explains that news television hails its viewers and thus produces

and reinforces ideological subjects. He gives the example of a news anchor and reporter

discussing a railroad strike, who hail the audience as anti-union, individually hard-working producers, and collectively industrial Americans. This process of hailing reinforces a naturalized existing social structure that serves the interests of the dominant social group. Although this example is based in “non-fiction” news media, entertainment fictional television programs also engage in the process of hailing, and function as ISAs by using systems of semiotic codes, which

I will explain in detail in the next chapter (Fiske, 1987/2004; Fiske, 1990/2004).

Overall, examining Timeless will contribute to literature on ideology in entertainment

media, and, more specifically, ideology in historical fiction and time travel television. Historical

representations are made in the present for present-day audiences; that is, they may be representing the past, but they are really about the present. Therefore, it is important to update the literature with analyses of contemporary portrayals of the past, and Timeless’s subject matter,

popularity, and status as an ISA make it a fitting show to study.

Study Overview

Given this rationale, I examined ideology in Timeless by performing a close textual

analysis of the show. I specifically focused on gender and race, and asked the general question,

“To what extent does Timeless advance existing dominant ideologies through its representations

of gender and race?” Overall, I found that Timeless somewhat advances existing dominant

ideology by portraying gender and race according to negotiated frameworks. In other words,

Timeless perpetuates dominant-hegemonic ideology in some ways and pushes back on this

ideology in others. Additionally, Timeless does this using both existing and new techniques. An

example of one of these new techniques is a concept I am calling “caveatic postmodern

nostalgia,” which refers to a type of postmodern nostalgia in which characters celebrate or are

excited for the past, but include a critical caveat with the celebration. The celebration is then

privileged over the critical caveat. I will explain my findings in detail and discuss their

implications in the chapters that follow. In Chapter 2, I will review the literature on ideology and

historical television and film, as well as explain how I examined ideology in Timeless. In

Chapter 3, I will introduce my findings and provide a plot overview and profiles of key

characters. In Chapters 4 and 5, I will explain my findings on gender and race representations in

Timeless, respectively. Finally, in Chapter 6, I will discuss the implications of these findings, note this study’s limitations, and offer suggestions for future research.

Chapter 2: Literature and Methods

One of the ways ideology operates is through Ideological State Apparatuses (ISAs)

(Althusser, 1970/2004; Fiske, 1987/2004). Television is one type of ISA, and historical fiction programming (such as Timeless) is one type of television programming. In this chapter, I will review literature that explains how historical fiction television operates ideologically. I will then explain how we can study ideology in historical fiction television, as well as how I specifically studied ideology of gender and race in Timeless.

Overview of Ideology and Historical Television and Film

Fiske (1990/2004) explains that television broadcast programs attempt to perform the work of the dominant ideology by using codes to convey a preferred meaning of the text. Codes are “links between producers, texts, and audiences, and are the agents of intertextuality through which texts interrelate in a network of meanings that constitutes our cultural world” (Fiske,

1990/2004, p. 1275). Television operates through several levels of codes (see Figure 1): social codes, technical codes, conventional representational codes, and ideological codes (Fiske,

1990/2004). Social codes include things such as environment, sound, and appearance. Technical codes include things such as camera, lighting, and music. Conventional representational codes include things like narrative, characters, and casting. Finally, ideological codes include things like race, class, patriarchy, and capitalism. An event is already encoded by social codes, which are then encoded by technical codes, which in turn transmit the conventional representation codes, which become meaningful based on ideological codes (Fiske, 1990/2004). Together, these codes attempt to focus a text’s meaning into a preferred meaning that performs the work of the dominant ideology (Fiske, 1990/2004).

Figure 1. Television codes (Fiske, 1990/2004).

Historical fiction television is especially a site for this ideological work. Such texts perform this work in several ways. For example, although historical fiction television programs may seem to simply convey historical events, such texts actually perform present-day ideological work under a guise of pastness. For example, Elisa Tincknell (2013) argues that popular culture media, such as the British series Downton Abbey, functioned to address the tension in Britain between declining capitalism and a rising conservative government by “manag[ing], synthesis[ing] and recast[ing] those tensions in ways that symbolically resolve[d] them” (p. 771).

Although the series was set almost 100 years earlier, it addressed current concerns and desires and sought to promote a conservative political agenda where social inequality is a natural part of human life (Tincknell, 2013).

Another way historical fiction texts perform ideological work is through the use of nostalgia. Andrew Higson (2014) explains that there are three main modes or types of nostalgia:

classical, modern, and postmodern. Classical nostalgia was coined in the seventeenth century and

refers to “the painful longing suffered by mercenaries who missed their homeland” (Higson,

2014, p. 123). Modern nostalgia typically refers to a state of mind and a feeling of wistfulness.

Contrasted with classical nostalgia, modern nostalgia involves a longing for a past time rather

than a different place. It also involves a desire to return to that earlier time. Higson (2014)

clarifies that modern nostalgia is about responding to the present, not a response to an actual

historical moment. A subtype of modern nostalgia is imperialist nostalgia, which refers to agents

of colonialism displaying a mournful, romanticized, and wistful view of a pre-colonialized culture (Rosaldo, 1989). In this type of nostalgia, people long for something they themselves actively altered or destroyed (Rosaldo, 1989).

Postmodern nostalgia, contrasted with the other two versions, is more atemporal (Higson,

2014). That is, in postmodern nostalgia, the past and present live side by side. Additionally, postmodern nostalgia is not embittered by the feeling of wistfulness (Higson, 2014). Instead, it is more characterized by a celebration of a past that is available in the present. An example of postmodern nostalgia would be engaging with a historical fiction television program without experiencing feelings of longing, but instead excitement or pleasure about the blurring of temporal boundaries. Foundational postmodern theorist Frederic Jameson (1991) critiques postmodern nostalgia and describes it as reducing history to a collection of images and visual style: a “spectacle of pastness” (as cited in Higson, 2014). For Jameson, postmodern nostalgia defines a past time period as its fashion, furniture, and other consumer products. Higson (2014) and Benson-Allott (2009) explain that mise-en-scène (encoded by social codes) is one of the primary ways of evoking this type of postmodern nostalgia (structured by ideological codes).

These three types of nostalgia help historical fiction text perform ideological work in different ways. For example, classical and modern nostalgia encourage a feeling of longing that results in a glazing over and idealizing of the past. This, in turn, covers or justifies social contradictions and oppression by both naturalizing and romanticizing the past. Postmodern nostalgia similarly covers and erases the social struggles of the past. However, instead of romanticizing a lost past, it encourages a celebratory conceptualization of the past that is fully accessible in the present.

Studying Ideology in Timeless

We can study ideology and the ideological tactics I described above by drawing from

Stuart Hall’s (1973/1993) theory of encoding and decoding. Hall (1973/1993) explains that after an event has been encoded into a discursive form and is distributed through television, it is decoded by audiences. These audiences can decode the text from one of three positions: dominant-hegemonic, negotiated, or oppositional. In the dominant-hegemonic position, the viewer, “decodes the message in terms of the reference code in which it has been encoded...the viewer is operating inside the dominant code” (Hall, 1973/1993, p. 101, emphasis original). That is, the viewer responds to the text’s hailing and decodes the message in a manner that serves dominant interests. In the negotiated position, the viewer, “accords the privileged position to the dominant definitions of events while reserving the right to make a more negotiated application to

‘local conditions’” (Hall, 1973/1993, p. 102). Hall (1973/1993) provides the example of a worker who may adopt a dominant-hegemonic reading at the general level of national interest (e.g. ‘a bill limiting the right to strike is good for national interests’), but an opposing view at the local level of his or her personal everyday interests (e.g. ‘as a union member, I do not support this bill’). In the oppositional position, the viewer understands what the dominant-hegemonic reading

is, but rejects it in favor of a reading contrary to the dominant-hegemonic code structure. Given the same encoded message as the viewer in the negotiated position example, the viewer in the oppositional position would read ‘national interests’ as ‘class interests’ (Hall, 1973/1993).

Although Hall’s (1973/1993) three positions refer to the decoding process, Sven Ross

(2011) proposes an adjusted model that applies these positions to the encoding process. In this model, televisual texts can represent phenomena according to dominant-hegemonic, negotiated, and oppositional ideological frameworks. Aligning with Hall’s (1993) arguments, viewers still adopt their decoding position independently of the encoding position. For example, an oppositional-encoded text could be decoded from the dominant-hegemonic position. This, in turn, would neutralize the text’s radical potential for the decoder.

It is important to note that in this semiotic tradition, these encoding frameworks are not necessarily based on author intent; instead they are based on the symbols found in the text. As

Fiske (1990/2004) argues, semiotic codes work together to attempt to focus a text’s meaning into a preferred meaning that performs ideological work. It is then the job of the researcher to analyze the text and investigate the ideological direction in which the symbols are pushing. To be clear, the researcher is not investigating what the text means; texts are polysemic and the audience has the ability to interpret the text in a variety of ways (Fiske, 1990/2004; Fiske, 1992). Instead, the role of the researcher is to consider the symbols’ denotations and connotations (Hall, 1973/1993) and identify what these symbols have the potential to ideologically do. This process is similar to that of going to a park and looking for fences, paved trails, unpaved trails, and areas of thick foliage. These things work together to convey a preferred physical path: walk on the paved trails and don’t go beyond the fence or into the bushes. A person still has the option to climb the fence or into the bushes, but the features of the park convey that the paved trail is the preferred path for

a person to take. When examining a text, the researcher is looking for these symbolic fences, paved trails, unpaved trails, and areas of thick foliage. By analyzing them together, and contextualizing them in the literature, the researcher can then make a case for the extent to which a text is portrayed according to a dominant-hegemonic, negotiated, or oppositional framework.

Based, then, on this literature on ideology in television, I asked the following research questions:

RQ1: To what extent does Timeless portray gender according to a dominant-hegemonic,

negotiated, or oppositional framework?

RQ1a: To what extent does classical, modern, or postmodern nostalgia play a role in

Timeless’s portrayal of gender?

RQ2: To what extent does Timeless portray race according to a dominant-hegemonic,

negotiated, or oppositional framework?

RQ2a: To what extent does classical, modern, or postmodern nostalgia play a role in

Timeless’s portrayal of race?

To investigate these questions, I first determined what dominant-hegemonic, negotiated, and oppositional portrayals look like in historical fiction television by reviewing literature in this area. I then watched all sixteen episodes of Timeless multiple times. I watched the series once all the way through, and then a second time where I paused, rewound, replayed, etc. as necessary. I took detailed notes, especially on parts of the text that seemed relevant to gender, race, and nostalgia, even if they were not portrayals that were specifically described in the literature. I then reviewed my notes and considered both the quantity and quality of the different major types of representations (dominant-hegemonic, negotiated, and oppositional). Example qualitative considerations included narrative prominence (e.g. is he or she a lead or background character)

and the proximity to other types of representation (e.g. was an oppositional moment immediately

followed by a dominant-hegemonic one). Overall, I found that Timeless represents both women

and race according to a negotiated framework, but that the representation of race is closer to the

dominant-hegemonic end of the continuum than the representation of women is. Before

explaining these findings in detail, I will first review the literature on dominant-hegemonic,

negotiated, and oppositional portrayals in historical fiction television.

Gender Representation and Historical Fiction Television

As the literature reviewed below demonstrates, historical fiction television predominantly

portrays women according to a dominant-hegemonic framework, sometimes portrays them according to a negotiated framework, and rarely portrays them according to an oppositional framework. I will describe each type of these portrayals, beginning with dominant-hegemonic portrayals. These representations can take the following forms: women are portrayed as victims; women are sexualized; women need heteronormative romance for fulfillment; and feminism is unattractive or nonexistent.

One of the ways women are portrayed in the dominant-hegemonic mode is as victims.

For example, in an analysis of three neo-Victorian detective fiction series, Claire Meldrum

(2015) found that women were regularly the victims of violent crimes. Of the three types of representations she found in the series, “woman as embodied victim” was ubiquitous (Meldrum,

2015, p. 202). In an analysis of the 1920s-set show, Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, Julie Ann

Tadeo (2016) notes that although the heroine is a competent detective, she is also portrayed as a victim in need of rescuing by her partner, Jack. Tadeo (2016) also argues that the show’s women, in general, are too often portrayed as victims.

Another way women are portrayed in the dominant-hegemonic mode is as sexualized. In

Meldrum’s (2015) analysis of the neo-Victorian detective fiction series, she found that sexualization was the second most frequent type of representation. This sexualization was often conflated with women as victims; Meldrum (2015) explains that when women are the victims of violent crimes, they are subsequently graphically and sexually displayed (even as deceased bodies). Sexualized women are also portrayed as “criminal seductresses,” such as brothel madames, in the show. Both modes of sexualized display in this dominant-hegemonic mode convey the message that sexualization goes hand in hand with criminal behavior (eventually deserving punishment) or victimhood (the punishment has already been delivered and the threat has been subdued). This sexualization also reinforces the patriarchal ideology where women’s primary role is to provide visual pleasure by being the object of the male gaze (Mulvey, 1989).

A third way women are portrayed in the dominant-hegemonic mode is as in need of

heteronormative romance for fulfillment. For example, in the 2008 British miniseries, Lost in

Austen, present-day woman, Amanda, accidentally goes through a portal in her bathroom to the

world of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Faced with the alternative of a mean and selfish

boyfriend in the present, Amanda ultimately decides to become romantically involved with Mr.

Darcy and permanently stay in the world of Pride and Prejudice. Living in Regency England

with Mr. Darcy is preferable to living in the present-day as a single woman (Cox, 2013; Ridout,

2010). In Tadeo’s (2016) analysis of the show Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, she explains that

the series features standard romance tropes. For example, there is a standard “will they or won’t

they?” plot between Miss Fisher and her detective partner, Jack. It is not enough for Miss Fisher

to have a successful career and engage in unattached sexual activity with “lovers”; she is portrayed as needing romantic fulfillment through Jack. In the British series Downton Abbey, the

older female servant, O’Brien, is an example of how women are portrayed when they do not

have heteronormative romantic fulfillment. Elisa Tincknell (2013) explains that O’Brien is petty,

full of class resentment, and bound to typical spinster tropes.

A fourth way that women are portrayed in the dominant-hegemonic mode is as renouncing or being unaware of feminism, which refers to “the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes” (Feminism, 2018, para. 2) or “organized activity on behalf of women’s rights and interests” (Feminism, 2018, para. 3). For example, in her analysis of Lost in

Austen, Cox (2013) explains that Amanda’s, “desire to escape into a pre-feminist past, in which gender roles were (seemingly) more clearly defined...simultaneously suggests both a problematic misunderstanding of that past and a critical indictment of the achievements, or more specifically, the failures, of feminism" (p. 36). Amanda’s choice to stay in the pre-feminist past with Mr.

Darcy conveys the message that feminism is unnecessary or bad.

In Lynn Spigel’s (2013) analysis of the American television series, Mad Men, Spigel

(2013) explains that the show represents a present day (postfeminist) nostalgia for a prefeminist

(the time period right before the emergence of second-wave feminism) past, which the eighteen to thirty-four demographic aspires to experience in its future. That is, a show like Mad Men presents a glamorous, cosmopolitan life filled with stylish fashion and exciting jobs. However, as

Spigel (2013) explains, the show skips the feminist movement that made a career-driven life possible in the present-day. Although the story arc offers many postwar female narratives and counternarratives, it never directly references the feminist movement. In discourse surrounding

Mad Men, “historical accuracy” is actually used as an excuse for excluding the movement from the show (Spigel, 2013). Feminist historian Stephanie Coontz says that for most women of Mad

Men’s time, feminism wasn’t a cultural option (cited in Spigel, 2013, p. 273). Show creator

Matthew Weiner says identifying as feminists wouldn’t make sense for characters like Betty or

Joan. However, Spigel (2013) points out that this does not address the show’s complete silence

on feminist ideas and events such as Betty Friedan’s articles, her book The Feminine Mystique, and the formulation of National Organization for Women—especially given the historical events that are included in and adjacent to the characters’ lives.

Historical fiction television also sometimes portrays women according to a negotiated framework. These representations portray women as more active agents that are either sexless or sexually empowered, but whose radicalness is tempered by conservative characteristics or behaviors. For example, in Tincknell’s (2013) analysis of Downton Abbey, she celebrates the foregrounded and likable character of the Countess of Grantham (played by Maggie Smith), who is a “refreshing” representation compared to the “sexualized successful ager.” However,

Tincknell (2013) explains that the Countess of Grantham is also very conservative, and is often the avenue through which the series promotes political conservatism and depicts social inequality as a natural part of human behavior. In Tadeo’s (2016) analysis of Miss Fisher’s Murder

Mysteries, she describes Miss Fisher as a 1920s ‘modern woman’ who displays a liberated attitude to sex, uses makeup, and wears stylish and transgressive clothes such as revealing dresses and pants. She also has progressive political views. For example, in one episode, she states her support for gay marriage. However, Miss Fisher’s radical modernity is tempered by the some dominant-hegemonic female representation tropes described earlier.

Historical fiction television rarely portrays women according to an oppositional framework. When they do, women are portrayed as knowledgeable, competent women in professional positions (often medically related) who are respected by their peers. For example, in

Meldrum’s (2015) analysis of neo-Victorian detective fiction series, the third and least common

type of representation is as “active investigator” (p. 202). This representation is typified by the

character Dr. Julia Ogden, who is the medical examiner in Murdoch Mysteries. Dr. Ogden is

respected for her knowledge and expertise and treats the bodies of the female victims sensitively,

medically, and without sexualizing them. In Tincknell’s (2013) analysis of the British series,

Call the Midwife, she describes the heroine (a midwife) as an older woman who is neither sexualized nor bound by spinster tropes. She also explains that middle-class women are foregrounded and the expertise of nurses and nuns are privileged. Furthermore, the show represents a world where “women are active agents within a social structure that makes motherhood and birth central” (Tincknell, 2013, p. 783). Although many of the women in the series are nuns (which could be considered a more conservative portrayal), these characters often work in opposition to official church teachings in order to do what they believe is right.

Race Representation and Historical Fiction Television and Film

As the literature surveyed below demonstrates, historical fiction television also predominantly portrays race according to a dominant-hegemonic framework and rarely portrays race according to a negotiated framework. Research has not found examples of race portrayed according to an oppositional framework. I will now explain these types of representation in detail, beginning with dominant-hegemonic representations. These representations can take the following forms: whiteness is privileged and made central; people of color are portrayed as

“Others” and categorized into ‘good’ and ‘bad’; and the government is exonerated from or justified in perpetuating systemic racism and colonialism.

One of the ways race is portrayed in the dominant-hegemonic mode is by privileging and centralizing whiteness. This is typified by the white hero. For example, in an analysis of the late

1960s NBC series, Daniel Boone, Michael Ray Fitzgerald (2014) explains that Daniel Boone is

constructed as a model of American masculinity. He is rugged, strong, and generally

hypermasculine. In an analysis of the western film and late 1950s television series Broken

Arrow, Fitzgerald (2011) explains that the lead character, Jeffords, embodies the trope of the

white male savior who must protect the racial Other from bigoted individuals. Jeffords is

represented with god-like visuals and is portrayed as quickly winning over the Apaches and learning their language and culture. The white savior type is also seen in the 2002-2005 television series, Enterprise, which is part of the Star Trek franchise. Although Enterprise is not a historical fiction show, it is a pastiche and continuation of the 1960s space show, Star Trek.

Additionally, this show is similar to Timeless because it involves time travel. Sharon Sharp

(2011) explains that the show features a white hero, Captain Archer, who is in charge of a racially diverse crew. Throughout the course of the show, Captain Archer also, “teaches other alien races thinly veiled moral lessons about the ‘American Way’” (Sharp, 2011, p. 31). Captain

Archer also becomes a literal white savior when he disables a super weapon aimed toward the earth, thus saving the planet in the process and paving the way for an utopian future. The 1988 film, Hairspray, which is set in the 1960s, also features a white savior (heroine, Tracy Turnblad).

Tracy is constructed as a white savior who champions the desegregation of a popular television show’s dance segment, thus following the trope of the white savior defending the racial “Other” against bigoted individuals (Benson-Allott, 2009). Not only is whiteness constructed as a savior- ness, but it is also narratively centralized. Caetlin Benson-Allott (2009) explains that the 1960s civil rights movement is the secondary plotline in Hairspray and only serves the purpose of providing context for the white heroine’s story.

Another way race is portrayed in the dominant-hegemonic mode is by portraying people of color as “Others” and categorizing members of the race into ‘good’ and ‘bad’ according to

their relations to general whiteness or American whiteness. For example, Fitzgerald (2014) explains that the title sequence in Daniel Boone visually equates Indians with wild animals and constructs them as enemies of America. The series represents two types of Indians in general:

“good” Indians that assist American settlers and “bad” Indians that side with the British.

Fitzgerald (2011) explains that Broken Arrow also portrays “good” and “bad” Indians: the

“good” assist Jeffords and the “bad” reject him and America. Through the construction of

Jeffords as a savior, Broken Arrow simultaneously constructs Indians as feminine and childlike: they are people that need protection rather than active agents who can protect themselves. The series Enterprise constructs “good racial Others” as the subordinated Enterprise crew under the command of the white male, Captain Archer. It constructs the “bad racial Others” by allegorizing space aliens as non-Americans who seek to destroy Earth and the Enterprise. Here, the construction of the “bad racial Other” also operates under a xenophobic logic.

A third way race is portrayed in the dominant-hegemonic mode is by exonerating the government from or justifying their perpetuation of systemic racism and colonialism. For example, in Broken Arrow, the narrative structure of the white male savior protecting the racial

Other from bigoted individuals rewrites American moral history by assigning responsibility to bigoted individuals, not the federal government or democratic principles (Fitzgerald, 2011). The narrative structure in Enterprise serves the function of justifying questionable military practices and the United States’ role in the world compared to alien “others” in a just-post-9/11 global context. Sharp (2011) explains that, “The logic of the temporal cold war narrative positions

Archer’s [the captain’s] morally ambiguous actions and Starfleet’s militarised action against the aliens as justifiable” (p. 36). In these cases, the government is either distanced from enacting

racist and colonial acts or, when impossible or not ideologically strategic, presented as justified in their actions.

Historical fiction television also sometimes portrays race according to a negotiated framework. These representations offer critiques of racism that are tempered by the “safe distance” the past offers the viewers. David Roth (as cited in Benson-Allott, 2009) argues that films set in the past representing race provide a way to, “feel about race as it has been, as opposed to an incitement to think about it as it is now” (as cited in Benson-Allott, 2009, p. 151).

It offers a safe distance for viewers to criticize the racism of the times and think, “look how far we’ve come.” That is, racial division and strife is portrayed as something that existed in the past but has been overcome in the present. This generally results in a critique of racism as a concept, but not an awareness or concern about present-day racism. For example, the 1988 film Hairspray generally offers a critique of racism, but when it, “recycles the history of the African-American civil rights movement by transforming it into a backstage musical,...[i]t delegitimizes contemporaneous political debates about integration by consigning the latter to both past and formula” (Benson-Allott, 2009, p. 144). The narrative structure in Hairspray equates racism with pastness. The NBC television series, American Dreams, is also set in the 1960s and offers a critique of racism. Faye Woods (2008) explains that the series’ music serves as a key device in highlighting and commenting on different social groups’ divergent experiences. The show not only juxtaposes the experiences of white and black people, but also black star singers (who entertained white audiences) compared to working class black citizens. For example, the song

“Can I Get A Witness” is played over a scene in which a teenage black football player is harassed and bullied in his school’s locker room. The portrayal of such abuse, especially when juxtaposed with the safer experiences of white people, aims to critique racism and recover

history. However, the 1960s setting again creates a safe distance to critique society as it was in the past rather than thinking about how it is now. Again, racism is equated with pastness.

To review, I have explained how ideology operates through Ideological State

Apparatuses (ISAs) such as television. I have also described how historical fiction television performs present-day-oriented ideological work by addressing issues of the present under a guise of pastness. Additionally, I explained how Stuart Hall’s (1973/1993) theory of encoding and decoding and Sven Ross’s (2011) updated model provides a framework for studying ideology in historical fiction television texts. I then described how I used this framework to investigate the extent to which Timeless advances dominant ideologies of gender and race. Finally, I reviewed what dominant-hegemonic, negotiated, and oppositional portrayals of gender and race look like in historical fiction television. I will now share my findings on how Timeless represents gender and race.

Chapter 3: Introduction to Findings

The close textual analysis of the first season of NBC’s Timeless resulted in several findings related to the representation of gender and race, as well as the use of nostalgia. Overall,

I found that the season represents gender and race according to a negotiated framework. This is

based on both quantity and quality, meaning how featured the representation is (e.g. is he or she

a lead or background character) and the proximity to other types of representation. Before

explaining these findings, I will first provide a description of the general plot and key characters.

Plot Overview

Timeless is a one-hour fictional time travel drama. Season 1 aired Monday nights at 10pm

on NBC from October 3, 2016 through February 20, 2017. It was also available to stream online

on Hulu. Timeless is set in the present day, but features a piece of futuristic technology: time

machines. These machines were created by Connor Mason of Mason Industries and are known

only to those at this company and a select few at the government. The adventures begin when

Garcia Flynn, a former NSA asset, steals one of the two time machines and seemingly kidnaps

the Mason Industries project lead, and jumps back to 1937 New Jersey. The NSA recruits Lucy

Preston, a history professor, to ensure history remains unchanged (i.e. to “protect history”), and

Wyatt Logan, an Army Delta Force soldier, to assassinate Flynn. Connor Mason appoints Rufus

Carlin, a scientist and someone who helped invent the time machines, to pilot the machine. These

three characters—Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus—make up the core team of heroes, or the “Time

Team.”

In each episode, Garcia Flynn and the core Time Team travel back to a different point in

time and meet historical figures such as Chieftess Nonhelema, Benedict Arnold, and Josephine

Baker. They may travel outside of America, but every time period they visit has a connection to

a key point in American history. Along the way, we learn about a secret society called,

“Rittenhouse,” and that they have had a hand in landmark American events since the founding of

the country. Rittenhouse becomes the villain of the series and Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus question if

they are fighting on the right side of things by working against Garcia Flynn.

Key Characters

Lucy Preston. The show’s heroine is Lucy: a white woman in her early thirties who is a university history professor. Her educational background is in history and the anthropology of

American political movements. She is slender, has dark hair and dark eyes, and is conventionally attractive. In the first episode of the show, Lucy has a sister, Amy, who is lost from existence when Lucy returns from her first time-jump. Amy becomes Lucy’s reason for fighting and a key figure in Lucy’s story arc throughout the season. Lucy’s mother is a successful history professor; the building Lucy teaches in is actually named for her mother. In the timeline in which Amy exists, Lucy’s mother is bedridden and unconscious due to cancer. In the subsequent timeline,

Lucy’s mother is healthy and active. In the first timeline, Lucy is single. However, in the second timeline, Lucy is engaged to a male doctor.

Throughout the series, Lucy is knowledgeable and good at her job as historical consultant. When it comes to interpersonal communication situations, Lucy is calm, collected, and a quick thinker. She also champions an empathic approach, often appealing to others’ compassion and encouraging communication over violence. This is especially true with those labeled as “villains,” such as Benedict Arnold. Although she is compassionate, Lucy is assertive and speaks her mind throughout the season.

Lucy demonstrates her competence as a historian and communicator, but she is uncomfortable and sometimes inept with physicality and combat sequences. For example, after

fighting sequences (in which she mostly does not participate), she is often breathless and scared.

She is also often represented in physical contrast to Wyatt, who always drives the cars and can handle firearms. Some may say this is because Lucy is a history professor, but so is Robert

Langdon of Dan Brown’s action novels, and he is written to be physically capable. Lucy also often has tears in her eyes. Her tears, however, do not get in the way of her doing her job, and the other characters do not comment on them.

Lucy is revealed to be a member of Rittenhouse as the daughter of main Rittenhouse character, Benjamin Cahill. Her mother is also revealed to be a member of Rittenhouse in the last episode. We also learn that Lucy is Rittenhouse “royalty” and was selected as the organization’s

“chosen historian.” This creates inner conflict for Lucy, as she learns that she has been born into an organization that she sees as an evil agent of tyranny and a threat to democracy. This nepotism also implies that Lucy did not earn the NSA historical consultant position of her own merit; instead, she was given it to further the agenda of the secret society.

Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan. Wyatt is one of the show’s heroes. He is a white male in his early thirties who is a U.S. Army Delta Force soldier. This character’s behaviors and traits align with the hypermasculine hero archetype, also known as Retributive Man (Rutherford, 1988, as cited in Lavigne, 2013) or “hypermasculine hero of (supposedly) yesteryear” (Lavigne, 2013, p. 70). Wyatt’s purpose on the team is to kill Garcia Flynn. In line with his profession, he is highly athletic and proficient in combat and survival situations. He gets into a fist fight with someone in almost every episode and typically suggests shooting something as the solution to problems. In contrast to Lucy, he is more comfortable with breaking rules and prefers to make things up as he goes. Emotionally, Wyatt is generally either calm or angry. The exception is when he has flashbacks to a mission in Afghanistan that provoke survivor’s guilt, which moves

him to tears but not all the way to crying. Wyatt often takes the lead in the field, both with thought and physically. For example, he often determines the plans on each mission and almost always drives. Although hypermasculinity can be defined as being in contrast to and superior to femininity, Wyatt generally sees women as equally valuable to men. However, he still has a strong desire to protect and help women, even in simple situations such as assisting Lucy with putting on her seatbelt in the time machine.

Rufus Carlin. Rufus is the third and final main hero in the show. He is a black man in his early thirties who is an MIT-educated scientist. Rufus works for Mason Industries and helped invent the time machine. Other than Anthony and Emma, he is the only trained time machine pilot. While Wyatt is an adaptation of Retributive Man, Rufus represents the New Man

(Rutherford, 1988, as cited in Lavigne, 2013) or “sensitive new man of today” (Lavigne, 2013, p.

70). Rufus is sensitive, shy, and not very athletic. He is generally agreeable and provides most of the comedic relief in the core team of characters. In contrast to Wyatt, Rufus does not see violence as a solution to everything. Rufus is also highly intelligent, as well as scrappy. For example, he finds a way to repair the time machine while stranded in 1754 during the French-

Indian War. In addition to being intelligent and comedic, Rufus also often acts as the moral compass in the show. He is deeply concerned with doing what’s right, which is evident in his actions and conversations with other characters.

Agent Denise Christopher. Agent Denise Christopher is a Homeland Security agent in her forties who is originally in charge of Garcia Flynn’s case. The actor playing Agent

Christopher is Indian, and the show does not imply that she is of different ethnic background than this. Agent Christopher is professional, good at her job, and wants justice. She is assertive and takes initiative, and works hard to overcome challenges set before her. Agent Christopher

started as a police officer and worked her way up to her current position. Agent Christopher is

also the only main lesbian character featured on the show. She is married with a child, and has

been with her wife for seventeen years. Agent Christopher often wears black skirt suits until she

goes “rogue” against Rittenhouse, when she is often in a simple jeans and sweater or turtleneck

combination.

Jiya. Jiya is a relatively new computer scientist at Mason Industries. She is in her late

twenties and is specifically written in the script as Indian. Jiya is intelligent, professional, and

good at her job. She displays ingenuity and creativity in several episodes. For example, when

detained in a room in Mason Industries, she builds a computer and hacks into the company

computer system using scrap computer parts she found in a closet. Jiya is also assertive and

maintains her convictions if she believes it is the right thing to do. Jiya is selected to be Rufus’s

replacement time machine pilot, and volunteers to help the team in the final episode’s jump, even

though she knows the risk with adding a fourth person to the machine. Jiya does not have a last

name in the show or on NBC’s Timeless website.

Garcia Flynn. Garcia Flynn is the show’s antagonist, although his antagonist status is questioned throughout the season. The actor who plays Flynn is Croatian and speaks with an accent, but it is possible that he is Prussian in the show (it isn’t fully confirmed). Flynn is a former NSA asset who stole a time machine from Mason Industries to take down the organization, Rittenhouse. His wife and daughter were killed by Rittenhouse operatives after he asked questions that would have led him to expose the organization. He hopes that by wiping out

Rittenhouse he can restore his family to existence. Flynn calls himself a patriot while Agent

Christopher describes him as a terrorist.

Rittenhouse (organization) and David Rittenhouse. Rittenhouse is the show’s

consistent antagonist. It is a secret, highly resourced, and highly powerful American organization

whose members are born into it. Rittenhouse is framed as an enemy to democracy and a

perpetrator of tyranny disguised as democracy. The organization is interested primarily in power

and control over American society and politics. It was founded by David Rittenhouse

simultaneous with the founding of America.

Connor Mason. Connor is likely based on the real-life Elon Musk. He is an inventor and the head of Mason Industries. Connor is a black British man in his late forties who is generally professional but has an edge when pushed. He helped Rufus by financially supporting him through MIT and looks at him as a son or nephew. We learn that Connor received a large amount of funding from Rittenhouse, and feels trapped and scared by his involvement with them.

Benjamin Cahill. Benjamin is a Rittenhouse member from what we learn is a

“pureblood” Rittenhouse family. He is a white man in his sixties and a pediatric surgeon. We learn that Benjamin is Lucy’s biological father. He is the face of present-day Rittenhouse for the other characters and regularly threatens Connor and Rufus throughout the season.

Anthony Bruhl. Anthony is the time machine project lead at Mason Industries. He is a white man in his sixties. Anthony defects from Mason Industries in a staged kidnapping to join

Garcia Flynn’s team as his pilot in Episode 1. He dies in Episode 13, “Karma Chameleon,” after attempting to destroy Flynn’s time machine. Rufus and Agent Christopher speculate that Garcia

Flynn killed him, which is confirmed later in the season.

Emma Whitmore. Emma is introduced in Episode 12, which is three quarters of the way through the first season. She is a white woman in her thirties who worked at Mason Industries as one of the first time machine pilots. Emma has hidden during the time of Jesse James after faking

her own death. She wears pants during an episode in the 1920s, while other women in the series

wear dresses. The final scene of the season reveals Emma to be a Rittenhouse agent and implies

that she killed the federal agents who were building a case against Rittenhouse.

General Findings

Overall, as I mentioned earlier, the season portrays gender and race according to a

negotiated framework. In the spectrum of oppositional to dominant-hegemonic frameworks, representations of race were closer to the dominant-hegemonic end than representations of gender were (see Figure 2). In the next two chapters, I will analyze Timeless’s representations of gender and race, respectively.

Figure 2: Representations of race and gender (women) on Timeless.

Chapter 4: Representations of Women in Timeless

Based on historical fiction literature, there are typical types of dominant-hegemonic,

negotiated, and oppositional portrayals of women. Dominant-hegemonic portrayals include the following: women are portrayed as victims; women are sexualized; women need heteronormative romance for fulfillment; and feminism is unattractive or nonexistent. Negotiated portrayals typically show women who are sexless or sexually empowered, but whose radicalness is tempered by conservative characteristics or behaviors. Based on my analysis of this show, I also think that this category includes the following negotiated adaptations of several dominant- hegemonic representations: victimhood offset by active physical agency; a rejection of heteronormative romance for fulfillment followed by an acceptance; critiques of sexism tempered by the safe distance of the past; and some recoveries of women in history that are either outside of an explicitly feminist context or are tempered by their character arcs. Finally, based on the literature, oppositional portrayals typically take the form of knowledgeable, competent women in professional positions (often medically related) who are respected by their peers. Based on my analysis of this show, this category also includes oppositional adaptations

(i.e. rejections) of several dominant-hegemonic representations. I will now explain the various portrayals of women in Timeless’s first season and then discuss them.

Dominant-Hegemonic Representations

As I described earlier, dominant-hegemonic portrayals can take the following forms: women are portrayed as victims; women are sexualized; women need heteronormative romance for fulfillment; and feminism is unattractive or nonexistent.

Women are often portrayed as victims in Timeless. There are present-day women in present or recent timelines, historical women in past timelines, and present-day women in past

timelines who are portrayed as victims. For example, Lucy’s sister, Amy, is lost from existence

and needs to be saved in a future time-jump. We also learn that Lucy survived a terrible car accident, during which Lucy’s car ran off the road into water, where she almost drowned.

Wyatt’s wife Jessica was murdered several years prior, and Wyatt hopes to save Jessica by preventing the murder in the past. Her supposed murderer also murdered two other women.

Garcia Flynn is motivated to destroy Rittenhouse because they murdered his wife and young daughter. In the last episode, Jiya experiences physical ailments such as seizures and unconsciousness due to being the fourth person in the time machine (it has a three-person capacity). She is in a hospital bed the last time we see her (although she is awake and talking).

The show does not provide clear logic as to why Jiya is the only one afflicted.

Historical female characters are also portrayed as victims. For example, Hindenberg-era reporter Kate Drummond first dies due to being under the Hindenberg when it crashes. She dies in the revised timeline when she is accidentally shot by Garcia Flynn, and dies in Wyatt’s arms.

The portrayal of victimhood on the Hindenberg itself is also gendered, with women crying and screaming while a man’s sleeve is caught on fire. In an episode centered in the battle at the

Alamo, “womenandchildren” (Holland, 2006, p. 32) becomes an almost comedic reference throughout the episode due to the number of times women and children are framed as passive victims who must be protected. Like Kate Drummond, Bonnie Parker also dies twice in an episode. Bonnie is violently shot and killed in her car at the beginning of the episode, and is shot and killed again near the end of the episode in the revised timeline. Sophia Hayden, the first female architect to graduate from MIT, is portrayed as an almost victim to H.H. Holmes, one of the first serial killers in the United States. Although she does not ultimately die, she is captured by Holmes and would have died if not for Wyatt, Lucy, Rufus, and Harry Houdini. Finally,

although we do not ever see Elliot Ness’s unnamed wife, we learn that he sent her to Cincinnati to keep her safe from Al Capone.

Lucy is also portrayed as a victim in past timelines. For example, at the end of Episode

10, “The Capture of Benedict Arnold,” Garcia Flynn takes Lucy hostage and brings her with him on the mothership back into the present. In Episode 11, “The World’s Columbian Exposition,” we find out that Flynn has taken Lucy with him back in time to Chicago’s Fair. Meanwhile, he has misled Wyatt and Rufus to believe she is at the hotel run by serial killer, H.H. Holmes. With the help of Harry Houdini, Lucy escapes Flynn and works with Houdini to rescue Rufus and

Wyatt. However, almost immediately following, Lucy is captured by H.H. Holmes and put into a furnace to be tortured and burnt. She delays Holmes from acting by using her history knowledge to convince him that she is a psychic who can help him attain wealth and fame, but is ultimately saved from death by Wyatt and Rufus.

Timeless also sometimes sexualizes women. With the first episode as an exception, this typically occurs in past timelines with either featured supporting female characters or background extras. In the first episode, Timeless somewhat sexualizes Lucy. She, Wyatt, and

Rufus end up in jail in 1937. Wyatt comes up with the idea to use the underwire from Lucy’s bra to pick their cell lock to escape. We see a closeup of Lucy’s chest, which we discover is a point- of-view shot from Wyatt’s view, before he reveals his idea. We see a shot of Lucy’s nude back and her covering her chest with her shirt as she throws her bra to Wyatt. Lucy is not sexualized to this extent for the remainder of the season.

Episode 3, “Atomic City,” features Judith Campbell. Judith is best known for being John

F. Kennedy’s mistress. We are introduced to Judith by seeing an implied nude woman and man in bed. We see her nude back as she sits up and a hint of her breast as she puts on a silk robe.

Later in the episode, Judith is implied as having sex with a high-ranking military officer in order

to steal a key from his office. In this same episode, there are several scenes set in a club and

casino, where we see several shots of scantily and sexily clad cigarette girls and show girls.

When Rufus offers Lucy a cigarette girl uniform for a disguise, she emphatically rejects the

clothing and demands that Rufus convert it to a slightly more conservative waitress uniform.

In Episode 9, “Last Ride of Bonnie & Clyde,” Bonnie Parker is also sexualized. One of

the earliest shots of her is a close up of the top of her thigh-high stocking, which is also the location of a tattoo. Bonnie has a sensual walk with a deep hip sway throughout the episode. The main object of the episode is to obtain a key that Bonnie wears around her neck, dangling at her chest. Bonnie’s wardrobe covers her chest, so the key is not resting in her cleavage, but it still prompts several closeups of Bonnie’s chest.

Episode 13, “Karma Chameleon,” features the fictional character Claire Gilliam, who is the mother of Jessica’s (Wyatt’s wife) alleged killer. Wyatt’s main objective in this episode is to prevent Claire from having sex with the bartender she meets that night in order to prevent the conception of Jessica’s killer. His tactics for preventing this is to hit on Claire himself. This ultimately fails, and we see Claire kissing the bartender in her hotel room clothed in her bra and pants. Wyatt interrupts them, and the remainder of the scene is completed with Claire in this state of undress. In addition to sexualizing Claire in this episode, the show condemns Claire for having casual sex by having it result in the birth of a murderer.

Episode 14, “The Lost Generation,” features Josephine Baker. She was a superstar entertainer in the late 1920s and an undercover spy for the Allies in World War II. We first see

Josephine on stage in a flapper dress singing to the audience in a bar where the Fitzgeralds and

Picasso patron. When Rufus realizes she’s Josephine Baker, he says, “My mom had a record

cover of her that got me through some lonely nights,” to which Bam-Bam (a soldier who goes in

Wyatt’s stead in this episode) replies, “That’s some antique porn, my friend” (Ryan & Kripke,

2016, 12:09). This exchange is the first time the present-day team talks about Josephine, which introduces Josephine as a sexualized character. In her first interaction with the them, she flirts with Rufus and is the object of Ernest Hemingway’s flirtatious attention.

The remainder of the female sexualizations throughout the season occurs in the background. For example, as I described earlier, we see sexily clad cigarette girls and show girls in Episode 3, “Atomic City.” In Episode 11, “The World’s Columbian Exposition,” we see a traditionally outfitted belly dancer dancing in the streets of the fair. In Episode 12, “The Murder of Jesse James,” there are what are implied to be prostitutes in the saloon where Flynn and Jesse

James meet. In Episode 14, “The Lost Generation,” prostitutes are the source of key information for locating Garcia Flynn and Charles Lindbergh.

While Timeless often portrays women as victims and sometimes sexualizes them, the show rarely portrays them as needing heteronormative romance for fulfillment. Timeless actually sometimes portrays women as even rejecting it, which I will discuss in a later section. However, the show has laid foundations for a future romance between Lucy and Wyatt. In addition to this potential future romance, there are a few instances of women requiring heteronormative romance. For example, Jiya’s relationship with Rufus is a key part of her character arc. Jiya is introduced as Rufus’s love interest, and then becomes a more well-rounded character throughout the season. In Episode 7, “Stranded,” her relationship with Rufus enables her to decode a message he sent through time that was nearly destroyed, which ultimately enables her to ensure he, Lucy, and Wyatt are able to safely time travel back to the present. Bonnie Parker’s relationship with Clyde Barrow is also an example of women requiring heteronormative romance

for fulfillment. Bonnie and Clyde’s relationship is romanticized and Lucy admires what is portrayed as a great love. Bonnie is happy to go on a crime spree and is fine with dying as long as she is able to do it with Clyde.

Finally, feminism is not portrayed as unattractive, but it is somewhat nonexistent.

Although there are feminist moments and there is some recovery of women in history—which I will discuss in later sections—none of the episodes feature women’s rights events, either landmark or otherwise. In a show that features famous or landmark historical events in American history, and seems to want to feature women’s and gender issues, this is an odd exclusion.

Additionally, Timeless features quite a few patriarchal social structures. For example, the head of Mason Industries is male and there are almost no women aside from Jiya shown as working there. Agent Christopher seems to be the only female government agent assigned to the

Mason Industries case. The Delta Force soldier is male (Wyatt), and every operative sent after

Wyatt is benched for stealing the time machine is also male. Additionally, Wyatt—not Lucy or

Rufus—is typically the thought leader in the field. With the exception of the final episode, Wyatt always drives the team’s car. In Episode 3, “Atomic City,” Rufus poses as a valet to obtain a getaway car and immediately throws the keys to Wyatt; Lucy is not considered as an option.

Wyatt also consistently helps Lucy with her seatbelt in the time machine, even though both he and Rufus are able to buckle their own belts without assistance.

In summary, the first season of Timeless often portrays women as victims, sometimes sexualizes them, and rarely portrays them as requiring heteronormative romance for fulfillment.

Additionally, although it doesn’t portray feminism as unattractive, it is somewhat nonexistent; the season also features several patriarchal social structures without critique.

Negotiated Representations

As I described earlier when reviewing the literature, negotiated portrayals typically

appear as women who are sexless or sexually empowered, but whose radicalness is tempered by conservative characteristics or behaviors. While closely analyzing this show, I also noticed negotiated adaptations of several categories of dominant-hegemonic representations: victimhood

offset by active physical agency; a rejection of heteronormative romance for fulfillment followed

by an acceptance; critiques of sexism tempered by the safe distance of the past; and some

recoveries of women in history that are either outside of an explicitly feminist context or are

tempered by their character arcs.

While women are often portrayed as victims on Timeless, there are also instances where

their victimhood is offset by portrayals of more active physical agency. These portrayals are not

oppositional because they are tempered by the victimhood portrayal. For example, I explained in

the previous section that Kate Drummond dies twice in Episode 1. However, before she dies, one

of Garcia Flynn’s teammates intercepts Wyatt’s efforts to disarm a bomb in the Hindenberg

kitchen. Kate is with Wyatt, and although Wyatt takes the lead in combat, Kate attempts to help

several times. It is clear that Kate does not have combat training, but she is still confident and

capable in her attacks and uses improvised weapons from the kitchen. After she is shoved away

by the antagonist, she tries to attack again. In this scenario, Kate is an active agent during

physical combat rather than a passive, helpless victim who cowers in the corner (or ends up

dead). However, Kate ultimately ends up a victim of a gunshot intended for Wyatt, and dies in

Wyatt’s arms.

Emma Whitmore is another portrayal of women exercising more active physical agency,

but it is tempered by her status as a villain in the show. Additionally, Emma fakes her own death

in what she says is an effort to escape Rittenhouse. Although she is not an actual victim, her

character arc is still intertwined with victimhood. Aside from this, Emma is introduced in

Episode 12, “The Murder of Jesse James,” as a woman who has survived living on her own in

1882. Timeless reveals her as a Rittenhouse operative in the final episode with a shot of her

standing at the door of the Mothership surveying three dead government agents who are face

down, dead, in blood. Emma is not shown actually engaging in combat or killing the agents.

Timeless also includes an instance of Lucy exercising active agency, but it is tempered by the stereotype it stems from and the events that immediately follow it. In Episode 10, “The

Capture of Benedict Arnold,” Garcia Flynn wants to kill John Rittenhouse, who is David

Rittenhouse’s pre-teen son. As Flynn struggles internally to go through with shooting young

Rittenhouse, he briefly turns away and looks back to see Lucy standing in front of the boy in a crouch with her arms spread, palms facing back towards the child. Lucy stares at Flynn directly and fiercely states, “NO! I will not let you kill a child” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 39:48). Although this example shows Lucy confidently intercepting Flynn, it fulfills a motherhood-based representation of womanhood. Additionally, this is immediately followed by Flynn taking Lucy hostage on his time machine back to the present. The next episode features Lucy’s near-death encounter with serial killer, H.H. Holmes, which I discussed earlier.

The first season of Timeless also includes a negotiated adaptation of women needing heteronormative romance for fulfillment. As I described in Lucy’s character profile, Lucy begins the show with a younger sister named Amy. When she returns from her first time-jump, Amy is gone and Lucy now has a fiancé named Noah. Noah is a handsome doctor, which fits the typical representation of a desirable husband for a female heroine. Lucy is not excited about her fiancé; she talks about how he is a stranger to her, and never expresses joy at returning to a timeline in which this man exists. Contrastingly, Lucy deeply misses her sister and determines that Amy is

the reason she is fighting. Lucy enlists Jiya’s help to determine who needs to meet for Amy to exist, and cuts a deal with Agent Christopher for help with saving Amy in return for Lucy’s participation in the missions. This narrative portrays a heterosexual woman rejecting heteronormative romance for familial, sisterly love. However, this prioritization of Amy over

Noah is tempered by the love interest developing between Lucy and Wyatt. Although the romance has not taken place yet, the foundations have been set for a relationship in Season 2.

In addition to the previous two adaptations of dominant-hegemonic portrayals, Timeless also includes two negotiated adaptations of unattractive or nonexistent feminism. The first is critiques of sexism tempered by the safe distance of the past and the second is some recoveries of women in history that are either outside of an explicitly feminist context or are tempered by their character arcs. The biggest exemplar of the first form occurs in Episode 8, “Space Race,” during which Lucy, Rufus, and Wyatt travel to NASA on the day of the first moon landing in 1969 to ensure it’s completed successfully. Agent Christopher provides the following cover identification badges for each of them: secretary (Lucy), janitor (Rufus), and FBI agent (Wyatt). In response to protests from Lucy and Rufus, Agent Christopher explains that this is the only way for them to believably be at NASA in 1969. Once at NASA, a middle-aged white man asks Lucy and other white female secretaries for coffee several times. He also gives large stacks of files to one of these secretaries. The third time we see this man, he grabs Lucy’s arm. After Lucy looks at another secretary, she visibly decides to tell the man off. Lucy emphatically says

You know what? Come here. Trust me. You do not want to drink the cup of coffee I

would you bring you after grabbing me like that. And, by the way, my name is not Doll

or Sweetheart or anything else that sounds like a baby. The women here have actual

names. I'm sure you can learn their names. It's not that hard, kind of like making coffee

for yourself. You're a rocket scientist. Figure it out. (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 31:25)

Several other women stop and look, and one of the younger women gives Lucy a small approving smile. Although this encounter provides a critique of sexism, it is situated in the past and thus equates sexism with pastness. This representation of sexism as a problem of the past is amplified by not including critiques of or references to present-day sexism. In Timeless, sexism

is not a problem in the present; it’s a thing of the past.

The above example is the most extensive, explicit, and featured critique of past sexism.

There are additional smaller examples throughout the season, which come through simply

showing a sexist, patriarchal interaction. For example, in Episode 9, “Last Ride of Bonnie &

Clyde,” Lucy tells a banker she would like to open an account. In response, he asks if she has her

father or husband’s permission. In Episode 12, “The Murder of Jesse James,” Bass Reeves tells

Lucy she cannot come because he isn’t in the business of escorting women into danger. In

response, Lucy says, “You’re not escorting me. I’m helping you” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 13:39).

In addition to this critique being tempered by pastness, it is also tempered by the later depiction

of Lucy struggling to mount a horse, when Rufus (who is self-described as ‘not outdoorsy’) and

the other men do not have any issues mounting their horses.

Timeless also includes the recovery of several women in history, but some are tempered

by their character arcs. The first recovered woman is Kate Drummond, a 1930s journalist, who I

have discussed in previous sections. Lucy explains to Wyatt that, “She has a column in the

Hearst papers. She covered the wars in Manchuria and Ethiopia” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 18:03).

Kate’s recovery is tempered by her portrayal as a victim and by making her the object of Wyatt’s

romantic interest. The next woman is Judith Campbell who, as Lucy explains at the end of the

episode, “Eventually, her secrets come out anyway. She’s vilified by the public, and she dies of

cancer” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 34:33). The promising aspect of Judith’s portrayal is in how the

present-day characters, especially Lucy, react to her. Lucy expresses a deep admiration for

Judith, which is in stark contrast to the slut-shaming and competitive relationships generally

depicted between women:

Judith: Go ahead, say it. You think I’m a tramp.

Lucy: No. I think you’re fascinating.

Judith: Don’t think another woman’s ever called me that before.

Lucy: I mean it. A woman—especially in this day and age—living the life that you’re

living. The people that you know. The things that you’ve seen. (Ryan & Kripke,

2016, 19:11)

Although this admiration for Judith, and Judith’s strong no-regrets attitude, has radical potential, it is tempered by her portrayal as a victim (we meet Judith because Garcia Flynn is blackmailing her) and her sexualization through the male-gaze cinematography I previously described.

Another woman historically recovered is Sophia Hayden, the first female architect to graduate from MIT who I described earlier. She is featured in Episode 11, “The World’s

Columbian Exposition,” as a guest at H.H. Holmes’ “Murder Castle.” Sophia is introduced when she and Wyatt literally bump into each other and she drops architecture sketches. When she asks if Wyatt is surprised that she did them, he says, “No; impressed” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 11:40).

This reaction is important because it shows a man reacting positively and respectfully to a woman’s competence. Sophia goes on to explain that she designed the woman’s building at the fair. Although this portrayal is exciting, it is tempered by the show making Sophia an almost- victim of serial killer H.H. Holmes. She, along with Wyatt and Rufus, are gassed to

unconsciousness and then wake up in an airtight dungeonesque room. Sophia’s architectural

competence results in her identifying the room as airtight and soundproof, but also a structural

weakness that results in Lucy and Houdini being able to hear them and save them. However,

although Sophia is competent, she cries and begins to panic, and needs Wyatt to calm her down

before she is able to identify the structural weakness. This rehearses the old trope of female

hysteria requiring male coolness to set a woman straight.

The final woman Timeless historically recovers is Josephine Baker, who is featured in

Episode 14, “The Lost Generation” and I discussed in an earlier section. Similar to Judith

Campbell, Josephine is sexualized but she is also portrayed as an intelligent and confident woman. Lucy expresses her admiration for Josephine after Rufus expresses his attraction to her and Bam-Bam asks who she is:

Seriously? Uh, well, she’s the biggest entertainer in the country at the moment. I mean,

think Beyonce 1927. She basically owns Paris. And she became an undercover spy for

the Allies in World War II. I mean, she’s just, she’s remarkable. (Ryan & Kripke, 2016,

12:22)

Although the episode recovers Josephine’s accomplishments and portrays her as more than just a sexy singer, her overall portrayal is still tempered by her sexualization. Additionally, although her gender representation is negotiated, her race representation is not, which I will discuss in a later section.

In summary, Timeless includes some instances of victimhood offset by active physical agency; one rejection of heteronormative romance for fulfillment followed by an acceptance; several critiques of sexism tempered by the safe distance of the past; and a few recoveries of

women in history that are either outside of an explicitly feminist context or are tempered by their

character arcs.

Oppositional Representations

Overall, Timeless rarely represents women oppositionally. As I described earlier when

reviewing the literature, oppositional portrayals typically appear through medical representation,

such as female doctors or midwives. Additionally, similarly to the negotiated representations, I

noticed oppositional adaptations of several categories of dominant-hegemonic representations.

The first is rejection of requiring heteronormative romance for fulfillment. The second is related to depictions of feminism, broken into two subcategories: the first is the depiction of modern women’s careers and the second is the historical recovery of women without tempering the recovery’s radical gender potential through the character arc. However, it is important to note that both of these recoveries are of women of color, and although their gender portrayal is through an oppositional framework, their race portrayal (which I will discuss in a later section) is not.

Timeless rarely portrays women as rejecting the requirement of heteronormative romance for fulfillment. The first portrayal is of Lucy’s mother, Carol, who raised Lucy as a single mother while also having a successful academic career. Carol explains to Lucy at the end of Episode 5,

“The Alamo,” that when she told Lucy’s father that she was pregnant, he said ‘all the right things,’ but that she decided to do things on her own because she, “didn’t want to marry him”

(Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 40:55). Even though Carol rejected the social norm, she still successfully raised two daughters and had a flourishing academic career. This is significant because it communicates that women who do not want to marry a man can still have a positive life outcome. The second portrayal is of Agent Denise Christopher, who is revealed to be lesbian in

Episode 10, “The Capture of Benedict Arnold.” Agent Christopher and her wife host Lucy at

their home for dinner. She lets Lucy know that she has been with her wife for seventeen years

and shows her a picture of them with their child. Agent Christopher explains that she wanted

Lucy to meet them in case they were gone from existence after one of the time-jumps.

Importantly, Timeless depicts Agent Christopher and her wife as a normal married couple rather

than as an odd or deviant anomaly that others must simply tolerate.

Timeless also portrays women as having a wide span of careers, although many of them

are in the background rather than featured. Beginning with the lead or featured characters, as I

have discussed earlier, Lucy is a tenure-track professor with a background in history and anthropology of American political movements, Agent Christopher is a Homeland Security

Agent, and Jiya is a computer scientist. The background or fleeting appearances of other women include an East Asian military doctor who stitches up Wyatt (Episode 2, “The Assassination of

Abraham Lincoln”), a white archaeologist who finds Rufus’s message in a bottle (Episode 7,

“Stranded”), and a white nurse who is providing at-home care for Ethan Cahill (Episode 16,

“The Red Scare”). In addition to these modern women, there are two featured fictional historical women who have progressive careers. The first is Doc, who is a black woman in her late twenties. She is featured in Episode 6, “The Watergate Tape,” which is set in 1972. We learn that she is called Doc because she has a Ph.D. in history from University of Chicago. The second is

Maria Tompkins, who is a white woman in her late twenties. She is featured in Episode 8,

“Space Race,” which is set in 1969. Maria is Garcia Flynn’s mother. At the time of the episode, she is a secretary at the defense contractor, Lockman Aerospace, and goes to night school for aerospace engineering. She is portrayed as being able to work on advanced aircraft design while

being a secretary. At the end of the episode, Agent Christopher explains to Lucy, Wyatt, and

Rufus that Maria became an engineer for Lockman two years after they met her.

Finally, Timeless includes several historical recoveries of women whose gender

portrayals (but not race portrayals) are not tempered by a conservative character arc. The first is

Shawnee Chieftess Nonhelema, who is featured in Episode 7, “Stranded.” Lucy, Wyatt, and

Rufus are captured by the Shawnee in Episode 7, and are waiting for the chief to arrive. They are

surprised to see that the chief is a woman, but after she identifies herself as Nonhelema, Lucy is

clearly familiar with and a bit starstruck by her: “You’re Nonhelema? I’ve heard of you before;

because you are a great chieftess, and very beautiful, and super intimidating” (Ryan & Kripke,

2016, 20:31). The exchange that follows portrays Nonhelema as confident, collected, and logical.

She initially orders Lucy and Wyatt’s death, but spares Rufus. At his emphatic request, and

against her brother’s desires, she also spares Lucy and Wyatt with the warning that she will not

spare them if they turn out to be dishonorable.

The second woman is Kathryn Johnson, who is featured in Episode 8, “Space Race.”

Kathryn is a black mathematician who was crucial to NASA’s success in the 1960s. Rufus

describes her as the “smartest person” at NASA, and both he and Anthony revere her for her

contributions to math and science. In this episode, a present-day-level computer virus threatens

to foil the first moon landing and also strand the astronauts in space. When Rufus explains the

concept of a virus (which didn’t exist at the time) and what they need to do to stop it, Kathryn

easily picks up what he explains even though it is forty-five years into the future of scientific development. Kathryn is depicted as professional, calm, intelligent, and competent. Additionally, she is respected by her colleagues at NASA. Near the end of the episode, once the moon landing has been saved, Gene Kranz shakes Kathryn’s hand in front of the whole mission control center,

and the entire room applauds her. At the end of the episode, back in the present, Rufus looks at

news coverage of Katherine Johnson. In this alternate timeline, one article headline states,

“Female scientist saves moon landing” and Rufus reads that Kathryn Johnson became NASA’s

first female flight director. However, as I explained earlier, although this presentation of Kathryn

is oppositional in terms of gender, it is not for race, which I will discuss in a later section.

In summary, women are rarely portrayed as rejecting the requirement of heteronormative

romance for fulfillment. There is a wide range of women’s careers depicted. Finally, there are

two historical recoveries of women without tempering each recovery’s radical gender (but not

race) potential through the character arc.

Overall Representations of Women

Timeless’s overall portrayal of women is a negotiated representation. This is based on both quantity and quality, meaning how featured the representation is (e.g. is he or she a lead or background character) and the proximity to other types of representation. Although negotiated representations of women are not new, the way in which Timeless negotiates these representations is unique (I will discuss this in detail in a later chapter). For example, the show includes all of the dominant-hegemonic representations described in the literature, but some of them (such as the requirement of heteronormative romance for fulfillment) occur to a lesser degree than typical. Additionally, Timeless includes clear rejections of some women’s stereotypes and of sexism, but tempers these rejections through the non-critical juxtapositions of dominant-hegemonic representations. For example, women may sometimes exercise physical agency rather than waiting as passive victims, but Lucy’s character is often physically inept compared to her male counterparts—even Rufus, who is self-described as not athletic or outdoorsy. Finally, there are a few oppositional representations of featured supporting and

background characters, which balance the dominant-hegemonic representations and reinforce the overall negotiated nature of the general representations. I will discuss the significance of these representations in a later chapter. However, I will first explain Timeless’s portrayal of race, which is where nostalgia plays a key role in representation.

Chapter 5: Representations of Race in Timeless

Based on historical fiction literature, there are typical representations of race. Timeless

includes these existing representations, but also presents new representations. Altogether,

Timeless represents race according to a negotiated framework. However, compared to gender, race is represented closer to the dominant-hegemonic side of the spectrum. I will explain

Timeless’s portrayals of race, beginning with dominant-hegemonic representations and then moving to negotiated representations (in alignment with the literature, there were no oppositional representations). Dominant-hegemonic representations in Timeless include the following: whiteness is privileged and made central through its casting, character and narrative arcs, and postmodern nostalgia; people of color are portrayed as ‘others’ and categorized into ‘good’ and

‘bad’ according to how helpful they are to the core white heroes; and the government is exonerated from and justified in perpetuating systemic racism. Negotiated representations in

Timeless include the following: there are critiques of racism tempered by the safe distance of the past and there are historical recoveries of people of color tempered by dominant-hegemonic character arcs. I will now explain these findings in detail.

Dominant-hegemonic Representations

As I described earlier, dominant-hegemonic portrayals can take the following forms: whiteness is privileged and made central; any race other than white is portrayed as an “Other” and categorized into ‘good’ and ‘bad’; and the government is exonerated from or justified in perpetuating systemic racism and colonialism.

Whiteness is nearly always privileged and made central. The most obvious way this occurs is by making the show’s heroine, Lucy, and the ‘action hero,’ Wyatt, white. But, one of the more specific ways this occurs is through Rufus’s character (Rufus is a black man). First, he

is described as Wyatt and Lucy’s pilot, as if he is in service to them. Second, Rufus risks danger in order to help Wyatt and Lucy. For example, Connor Mason (also a black man) asks Rufus to

“be on his side” and cooperate with Rittenhouse. Rufus indignantly declines in favor of loyalty to

Wyatt and Lucy. In Episode 4, “Party at Castle Varlar,” which is set in 1944 Germany, Wyatt asks Rufus to hotwire and steal a car while he and Lucy are in a German bar. Rufus is clearly concerned for his safety, and says twice, “Rufus stays right here” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 8:16).

However, Rufus eventually agrees with Wyatt and hotwires the car; this is an extremely risky action, especially considering Rufus is doing this as a black man in Nazi Germany. In Episode

13, “Karma Chameleon,” Rufus assists Wyatt in stealing the time machine to attempt to prevent the conception of Wyatt’s wife’s murderer. Rufus originally declined to help him in Episode 12, but eventually agrees after Wyatt promises he won’t hurt anyone. However, things go from bad to worse in Episode 13, as Wyatt’s attempts repeatedly don’t go his way. Rufus becomes complicit in Wyatt assaulting a black male state trooper, and Rufus handcuffs the state trooper to a desk so that he and Wyatt can escape.

Finally, Rufus often has to wait outside while Wyatt and Lucy enter buildings in the past.

He is also often either not in the frame, or even is unexplainably missing from scenes (until it’s explained in later in passing). The biggest exemplar of the former occurs in Episode 1, which is set in 1937 at the Hindenburg landing. Rufus, Wyatt, and Lucy walk into a bar with only white people, and realize that everyone is looking at Rufus. The following dialogue occurs:

Lucy: Ah, um, everyone's staring at you. Maybe you should just wait outside?

Rufus: On a scale from Million Man March to Mississippi Burning, how safe do you

think I'm gonna be out there?

Lucy: You should be fine, just, uh, don't make eye contact with anyone?

Rufus: So glad I came. (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 17:09)

In this dialogue, Rufus references two landmark events in civil rights and black rights history.

Million Man March was a peaceful protest by African American men in 1995. Approximately

800,000 men gathered in Washington D.C. and many speakers were programmed to present throughout the event (Million Man March, n.d.). Mississippi Burning is the name of a 1980s film that was based on the FBI’s investigation into the 1964 murders of civil rights workers James

Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Schwerner. The FBI found that the Ku Klux Klan and local law enforcement were involved in these murders (FBI, n.d.). This second example is a deeply disturbing event that occurred less than thirty years after the time period Rufus, Lucy, and

Wyatt are in during this episode. Rufus may project only moderate concern through his nonverbals, but his references point to a deep and legitimate fear about what type of danger he may be about to face. Lucy brushes off this concern cavalierly, which she can afford to do as a white woman. Rufus then leaves the bar, and stands outside while Lucy and Wyatt meet with

Kate Drummond for the remainder of the scene. We see a brief shot of Rufus outside avoiding eye contact and look uncomfortable during the scene. Instances of similar natures occur regularly throughout the season.

Another way whiteness is privileged and made central is through Jiya’s character (Jiya is an Indian woman). In Episode 2, “The Assassination of Abraham Lincoln,” Jiya commits to helping Lucy figure out why her sister was erased from existence while lacing up Lucy’s corset.

Visually, Jiya takes on the role of Lucy’s ladies maid while narratively, she takes on the role of helper in service to a white character. Additionally, because Jiya is not part of the core ‘time team,’ she does not have much screen time. In the final episode, even when Jiya travels through

time with Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus, the physical ailments she sustains from the jump result in her

being absent from much of the main action.

Postmodern nostalgia is another way that whiteness is privileged and made central. The

show conveys nostalgia both explicitly and implicitly. For example, in Episode 1, Lucy, Wyatt,

and Rufus travel to 1937 New Jersey. When they arrive in town from their remote landing site,

Rufus comments, “So the back of the bus was amazing” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 15:42). Instead

of responding to him, Lucy looks around with wonder and awe and says, “Wow [pause for point

of view shots]...Mom, I wish you could see this” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 15:47). White Lucy’s

excitement at seeing the past is explicitly privileged over Rufus’s experience of blatant racism.

This is significant because Lucy is the main heroine of the show. By having Lucy ignore Rufus

in favor of her excitement for being in the past, Timeless communicates in this moment that

racism is not as important as postmodern nostalgia. In Episode 16, “The Red Scare,” the core

team travels to 1954 Washington, D.C. Wyatt discusses his excitement for the 50s with Lucy,

while Rufus and Jiya are back with the time machine dealing with their injuries:

Wyatt: I dig the '50s.

Lucy: I don't know, a bunch of racist, repressed Ward Cleavers. This whole place is a

powder keg.

Wyatt: But the cars are cool.

Lucy: Oh, yeah. [followed by sarcastic side eye to Wyatt] (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 9:21)

Here, Wyatt explicitly feels postmodern nostalgia for the 1950s. This dialogue exchange sandwiches Lucy’s critique of racism between two compliments of the time period. Excitement for the commodity of 1950s cars outweighs (or at least balances out) the social oppression of the time. Additionally, this conversation takes place between two white characters, who have the

privilege of being able to consider the 50s in terms of cars rather than racist oppression. Rufus and Jiya are conveniently absent from this scene, which further reinforces the privileging of whiteness.

There are also implicit uses of postmodern nostalgia. For example, Episode 6, “The

Watergate Tape,” is set in 1972 in Washington D.C. When the time machine jumps to the future, we linger on Jiya and Connor as David Bowie’s “Changes” comes on as non-diegetic music (i.e. music that does not come from a source within the show world) and bridges the narrative into

1972 (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 5:49). We then see a police officer at rest with white protesters behind him shouting and holding anti-war signs. The camera cuts to a female hippie throwing a frisbee and then pans right to show additional protesters and reveal that we are in front of the

White House. We briefly see a black man holding hands with a white woman as they walk smiling down the street. We again see white female hippies frolicking on the lawn in front of the

White House, and Lucy excitedly smiles at them and continues smiling as she looks around.

Although the scene features protests that demonstrate some of the time’s civil unrest, the protesters are predominantly white and are protesting the Vietnam War. We don’t see any evidence of the Black Liberation Army until later in the episode. Additionally, this indication of civil unrest becomes romanticized by the non-diegetic music (David Bowie’s hit “Changes”) and the overall yellow-cast color tone of the scene. This focus on a white centric issue (or at least not a people of color centric issue) as well as the use of a beloved pop song is an example of implicit postmodern nostalgia that results in privileging whiteness.

Another example of this implicit postmodern nostalgia occurs in Episode 10, “The

Capture of Benedict Arnold.” When Lucy, Rufus, and Wyatt arrive in town, there is an overhead shot of the Colonial American town’s dirt road, which is lined by green grass, trees, and

mountains in the distance (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 8:40). We cut to an eye-level shot of two

young white boys running as we hear laughter, and see them run between Lucy and Rufus as

Lucy smiles. We then see a point of view shot that pans several white soldiers and shows two

white men driving a horse and wagon. Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus stop in front of the entrance to an

estate, which we discover is Benedict Arnold’s house. The shot is accompanied by romantic,

colonial-esque/frontier-esque style music which evokes feelings of peacefulness and understated

wonder. We do not see slaves until later in the episode. Instead, the time period is framed

according to a postmodern nostalgia for a white-view of Colonial America, thus privileging whiteness.

The previous ways whiteness is privileged and made central in Timeless are through featured characters. A more subtle, but still pervasive, way this occurs is through background characters. For example, in past timelines, usually all or nearly almost all of the background extras are white. Including people of color in the background extras occurs so infrequently that it is noticeable when it happens. For example, there are all white people in the background of the

1893 Chicago World’s Fair in Episode 11, “The World’s Columbian Exposition,” except for a

Romani-appearing belly dancer and one black man. In Episode 9, “Last Ride of Bonnie &

Clyde,” all the people in the bank that Lucy and Wyatt go into are white except for one black man. Even in more recent time periods, such as in Episode 13, “Karma Chameleon,” which is set in 1983, the only other person of color aside from Rufus is the state trooper. Additionally, there are no Asian people in the background in the past, and the inclusion of Hispanic or Latino/a/x people is concentrated to the inclusion of Mexicans in Episode 5, “The Alamo.”

Although it could be argued that this racial makeup is a reflection of the times, this argument would not address why the show predominantly features white history. People of color

existed during all the time periods Timeless visits. With the exception of the brief feature of the

1970s Black Liberation Army, the show just doesn’t highlight people of color’s histories. Even

with such an exception, the function of the exception is to further a white-centric plot. One of the biggest exemplars of this occurs in Episode 10, “The Capture of Benedict Arnold.” Benedict

Arnold recommends that Rufus not join Wyatt, Lucy, and Garcia Flynn when they meet with

David Rittenhouse. We see Rufus discover a site at night where there are male and female slaves and a white slave driver. The men and women are exhausted; Rufus takes a water jug from a woman struggling to carry it. He then starts to cough in order to capture the white man’s attention and lower his guard. Rufus is able to get the white man to come close enough so that he is able to apprehend him and steal his rifle. Later, Rufus appears at Rittenhouse’s estate in time to use his newly acquired rifle to save Wyatt and Lucy. We do not see what happens to the slaves after Rufus acquires the gun. Instead, we see just enough to learn how Rufus was able to get a weapon. It seems that this feature’s main function was to show how Rufus was able to rescue

Wyatt and Lucy.

In addition, people of color are also always portrayed as ‘others’ and categorized into

‘good’ and ‘bad.’ The biggest exemplar of this is the characters of Rufus Carlin and Connor

Mason. Rufus and Connor are both black men, but Rufus is portrayed as ‘good’ while Connor is portrayed as ‘bad,’ according to how helpful they are to the core white heroes (Lucy and Wyatt).

Throughout the series, Rufus regularly risks himself for Lucy and Wyatt, both in the past timelines and in the present. He is even placed in direct opposition to Connor. For example,

Connor wants Rufus to audio record every time-travel mission in order to appease Rittenhouse.

Rufus becomes uncomfortable enough in Episode 4 to push back on the request:

Connor: Do you have it [the recording]? Rufus -

Rufus: I’ve been risking my life for Lucy and Wyatt. I didn’t think I had it in me, but I

did. It’s because I knew they’d do the same for me because I trust them. Spies

can’t trust, and that’s not me. I’m just not wired that way.

Connor: I understand, but you need to understand how deep I'm in with these

Rittenhouse people. I need you to be on my side just as I've been on your side

all these years.

Rufus: I can't. It's wrong. I'm sorry. (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 38:30)

The show puts Connor in the role of having to behave immorally while Rufus acts as the moral compass—where moral behavior ultimately helps the white heroes. This tension between Connor and Rufus continues up through Episode 11, when Rufus tells Connor he needs to pick a side. In the next episode, Connor states that he has picked the Rittenhouse side, thus solidifying Connor as a villain to the audience. We find out at the end of the last episode (Episode 16) that Connor was secretly opposed to Rittenhouse all along, and he helps the heroes attempt to take them down. However, Agent Christopher makes the comment about him that, “Somewhere underneath all that smarm, there’s an actual heart” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 31:21). This statement reinforces

Connor as the ‘bad’ black person compared to Rufus, even though he has been revealed as opposing Rittenhouse.

Asian people are also categorized; however, they are generally categorized as ‘good’ without a counter categorization of ‘bad.’ Although this may seem like a progressive representation, it is actually dominant-hegemonic because it perpetuates the problematic stereotype of the “model minority” (Kawai, 2005; Shim, 1998). This stereotype began in

America during the 1960s and is still pervasive today. Although it may seem that is a positive stereotype, it is actually problematic for several reasons. First, Kawai (2005) explains that

“depicting Asian Americans as the model minority simultaneously serves downgrading other racial minorities as ‘problem’ minorities” (p. 114). Second, citing Okihiro (1994), Kawai (2005) explains that the model minority stereotype is also in dialectical tension with yellow peril, which is a concept referring to White people perceiving Asians as a threat to the White race. She states that, “People of Asian descent become the model minority when they are depicted to do better than other racial minority groups, whereas they become the yellow peril when they are described to outdo White Americans” (p. 115). In other words, Asians are considered a model minority if they conform to general standards of Whiteness, but become agents of yellow peril when they threaten the dominant status of White Americans.

The characters of Agent Christopher and Jiya are main examples of Timeless’s categorization of Asian characters as ‘good.’ Both are portrayed as part of the show’s “good people” team. Agent Christopher even risks her career in order to free Wyatt from prison after he steals the time machine. Jiya directly opposes Connor Mason (who has been established as ‘bad’) in Episode 15, “Public Enemy No. 1,” by continuously disrupting the Mason Industries computer systems in order to help Rufus, Lucy, and Wyatt time travel without detection. There are also a few representations of ‘good’ East Asian people. The most obvious categorizing work occurs through the representation of an East Asian Catholic priest who counsels Garcia Flynn in

Episode 15. He is kind, patient, and understanding with Flynn. Another example occurs in

Episode 2, “The Assassination of Abraham Lincoln,” during which an East Asian female military doctor treats Wyatt’s gunshot wound. In Episode 1, an East Asian man named Agent

Kondo is the Homeland Security agent that first approaches Lucy; we never see him again.

Finally, although we never see a picture of this next character, someone named Justin Ito is the

author of the two news stories we see about Wyatt’s wife, Jessica. This name implies that the character has an Asian heritage.

Similar to the categorization of Asian people, Native Americans are also categorized, but only as ‘good’ people. Again, this may seem progressive, but it actually continues the problematic representations of Native Americans as subordinate characters to white heroes

(Fitzgerald, 2011). Additionally, Timeless reminds us of the possibility of Native Americans’

‘badness.’ The two main representations of Native Americans occur through Chieftess

Nonhelema’s and Grant Johnson’s characters, who I will discuss in more detail in the ‘negotiated representations’ section. In Episode 7, “Stranded,” Nonhelema is constructed as ‘good’ by saving Lucy and Wyatt from death. However, this is after she initially plans to kill them, which evokes the stereotype of ‘violent savage’ (Fitzgerald, 2011; Fitzgerald, 2014). The potential for constructing Nonhelema as a violent savage isn’t realized, but this contradictory and complementary stereotype to that of the ‘mystical sidekick’ seeps in through the potentialities in this plotline. Chieftess Nonhelema is ‘good,’ but Timeless reminds us that she and the Shawnees could just as easily be ‘bad.’ In Episode 12, “The Murder of Jesse James,” Grant Johnson is a

Native American lawman who is partners and best friends with U.S. Deputy Marshal Bass

Reeves. Along with Bass, he agrees to help Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus find and capture Jesse

James. In the process, he is killed by James while pushing Lucy to cover. These representations go hand in hand with privileging whiteness; Native Americans (and people of color in general) are considered ‘good’ if they aid the white heroes—even to the point of sacrificing themselves.

There is almost no representation of Hispanic or Latino/a/x characters on Timeless. The only representation is of Mexicans in Episode 5, “The Alamo,” and it generally constructs them as ‘bad.’ In this episode, Rufus, Wyatt, and Lucy follow Flynn back to 1836, a few days before

the attack on the Alamo. Rufus sees several black people at the Alamo, and Lucy confirms for

him that they are free. She explains that slavery was outlawed in Mexico at the time, and that

they are technically in Mexico. Rufus responds, “Viva la Mexico,” and Lucy nervously scoffs

and tells him not to say that too loudly (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 19:22). Although this exchange

casts a morally ‘good’ light on Mexico, the remainder of the episode overwhelmingly constructs

Mexicans as immoral, bloodthirsty villains. Timeless accomplishes this through General Santa

Anna’s character. In response to Garcia Flynn’s interference, instead of letting the

“womenandchildren” (Holland, 2006, p. 32) go free, the general raises a red flag that indicates

that there will be no prisoners and no survivors. Flynn goes to the general to try to convince him

to take down the red flag, appealing to him as a father, but he will not be persuaded. General

Santa Anna actually justifies his actions in the following exchange, which takes place completely

in Spanish with English subtitles:

Santa Anna: This is war. There are sacrifices. If you don’t approve you’re free to leave

anytime

Garia Flynn: [Raising voice] This is not acceptable!

Santa Anna: [Shouting] This is my war! Not yours! [Speaking regularly] If you try to

interfere...I’ll have my soldiers kill you where you stand.

[sarcastically] Friend. (Shawn & Kripke, 2016, 19:11)

General Santa Anna, who represents Mexico in this episode and the series, is essentially portrayed as a monster—we are supposed to be morally disgusted with his behavior. This representation is especially interesting given America’s negative (and xenophobic) attitude towards Mexico during this episode’s air time.

Additionally, a non-American accent is a common theme amongst the show’s villains.

Both Garcia Flynn and Connor Mason speak with accents: Flynn’s is Eastern European and

Connor’s is British. Although Flynn’s status as a villain is complicated throughout the season due to Rittenhouse’s actions against him, he is both explicitly and implicitly categorized as ‘bad.’

Explicitly, the ‘good’ characters in the series repeatedly call Flynn a terrorist. Wyatt also equates

Flynn with an animal in Episode 16: “He’s rabid. He needs to be put down” (Ryan & Kripke,

2016, 5:15). Implicitly, typically every time Flynn evokes sympathy, this is countered by a morally repellent behavior. For example, in Episode 10, “The Capture of Benedict Arnold,”

Flynn tells Lucy that if he is able to successfully prevent his wife and daughter’s murder, he wants to see them again but feels he would have to leave them forever. He explains, “I’ve done horrible things. Become something else. How can I bring that into my home? What kind of husband or, or, a father can I be after what I've done?” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 27:27). Flynn is so tragic in this moment that it would be difficult to not feel sympathy for him. However, at the end of this episode, Flynn attempts to murder a child, which counters the sympathy and reinforces his status as ‘bad.’ As I described earlier, Connor Mason is also categorized as ‘bad,’ and he speaks with a British accent. He also drinks tea out of china cups and saucers at his desk, which reinforces his Britishness (and foreignness) to an American audience. While it’s interesting to note this correlation between an accent and ‘badness,’ it’s also interesting to consider who doesn’t have an accent. Episode 10, “The Capture of Benedict Arnold,” is set in

1780, which is likely before Americans spoke with the accent we recognize as American today.

However, both Benedict Arnold (who is not considered a villain in this episode) and George

Washington (whose entrance is accompanied with magical, god-like non-diegetic music) speak with a modern American accent. By having both of these characters speak with a modern

American accent, it further reinforces that accents (or foreignness) equate with badness; the only

exception is Chieftess Nonhelema.

Finally, the American government is exonerated from or justified in perpetuating

systemic racism and colonialism. The main way this is accomplished is through the invention of

Rittenhouse. In Episode 10, “The Capture of Benedict Arnold,” Lucy says that, “If this [her

journal from the future] is true, Rittenhouse has their fingerprints all over the Trail of Tears,

Jonestown Massacre, the Waco Siege…” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 16:18). We learn in Episode 6,

“The Watergate Tape,” that Rittenhouse was also involved with the Watergate scandal. In the

show, the missing part of the tape plays President Nixon nervously saying that if he can’t deliver

Doc to Rittenhouse, “I’m done. They’ll [Rittenhouse will] see to that. Not just with the

presidency, but with my wife, with my girls. Rittenhouse plays by different rules. Do you

understand who they are? How deep I'm in with Rit -” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 8:25). In Timeless, it’s Rittenhouse—not the government—that is responsible for major American historical atrocities and scandals. Furthermore, the problem of oppressive racism is localized to

Rittenhouse by constructing them as a symbolic scapegoat. This scapegoating results in the obscurance of institutional and subconscious white supremacy; by depicting racism as the fault of a particular, evil group, Timeless simultaneously depicts racism as not a cultural and institution-wide issue.

A secondary and more minor way this is accomplished is through Agent Christopher’s character. She stands up for Wyatt when her superiors want to replace him for not successfully assassinating Flynn and she helps him escape prison after stealing the time machine (and murdering the bartender in 1983). However, at the end of the season, Agent Christopher works with a team of agents to capture an unsuspecting Flynn while he meets with Lucy. Although

Flynn’s and Wyatt’s actions are not morally equivalent, the foreign character still gets in legal trouble and the white man goes free. This outcome is somewhat complicated in terms of the portrayal of race because Agent Christopher is Indian. This is a case where Agent Christopher’s categorization of ‘good’ intersects with government exoneration. Having a person of color carry out Flynn’s capture and Wyatt’s lack of consequences further justifies and hides this unequal government treatment.

While this is an example of implicit government endorsement, Timeless also has a person of color explicitly endorse the government. U.S. Deputy Marshal Bass Reeves, a black man and the likely inspiration for The Lone Ranger, is featured in Episode 12, “The Murder of Jesse

James,” who I will discuss in more detail later. Bass is deeply committed to the law and justice, and Rufus is curious about this:

Rufus: Can I ask you a question? It bother you that not long ago you were in bondage,

and now, here you are, fighting so hard for your old masters' law?

Bass: Law ain't perfect. But it's all we got. If we ain't got that, we ain't got nothing.

(Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 23:28)

Here, Timeless uses both Rufus and Bass to symbolically have two black men endorse the law.

This exchange also distances the ‘law’ as an abstract concept that is separate from lawmakers and government officials. Such endorsement and distancing covers the process of lawmaking and diminishes the idea of systemic racism and colonialism; after all, “Law ain’t perfect. But it’s all we got” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 23:39).

In summary, the first season of Timeless nearly always portrays whiteness as privileged and central and always portrays people of color as ‘others’ and categorizes them into ‘good’ and

‘bad.’ Additionally, the show consistently (yet often subtly) exonerates or justifies the

government in perpetuating systemic racism and colonialism.

Negotiated Representations

As I described earlier when reviewing the literature, negotiated representations of race

typically offer critiques of racism that are tempered by the “safe distance” the past offers the

viewers. This equates racism with pastness, and perpetuates the idea that we are currently living

in a post-racial society where racism has been eradicated (or at the very least, lives at the

extremes of society rather than being baked into the system). Additionally, negotiated portrayals

in Timeless also include recoveries of historical people of color that are tempered by dominant-

hegemonic aspects of their character arcs.

Timeless critiques racism in the past many times throughout the first season. The biggest example occurs in the first episode. It begins when Connor Mason says that Rufus needs to pilot the time machine. Rufus says to him, “I don’t know how it works across the pond, but I am black. There is literally no place in American history that’ll be awesome for me” (Ryan &

Kripke, 2016, 11:28). Later in the episode, Wyatt, Lucy, and Rufus are in jail in 1937 in segregated cells. Wyatt asks Rufus to distract the white guard so that he can pick the cell lock.

Rufus begins by asking for a glass of water, to which the guard replies, “Swallow your spit, boy”

(Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 29:11). The following dialogue ensues:

Rufus: I'm not a boy, actually.

Guard: Excuse me?

Rufus: You have eyes, right? You can tell I'm not a child, and I am definitely not your

son, so don't call me ‘boy.’

Guard: I'm not sure you realize where you are, boy.

Rufus: Actually, I do. I'm in the damn Stone Age, but, man, I hope you live a long, long

life. Long enough to see Michael Jordan dunk, Michael Jackson dance, Mike

Tyson punch, really, just, any black guy named Michael. OJ? Yeah, he gets off.

He did it, but we don't care. And Obama, he's the president. 2008. That's gonna

suck for you. I hope you see it all. Because the future is not on your side—boy.

(Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 29:18)

In this scene, the show critiques racism through Rufus’s character. However, Rufus’s speech also does two other things: it implies that present-day society is free of racial inequality and it also positions Rufus as a race ambassador (“He did it, but we don’t care”). The term “race ambassador” gained mainstream popularity in November 2016 when it was featured in an MTV satirical video and an NPR article and podcast (Demby, 2016; Ramsey, 2016). This concept refers to a person of color who is expected (by white people) to know the answer to any question about their race, as well as act as a representative of their race. In this scene, Rufus is positioned as speaking for all black people’s point of view on O.J. Simpson’s verdict, which thus positions him as a race ambassador in this episode.

Aside from the critiques that accompany the recoveries, most of the racism critiques in the rest of the season occur in passing or in the background. For example, in Episode 2, “The

Assassination of Abraham Lincoln,” Rufus saves Vice President Johnson from getting shot. At the end of the episode, back in present day, we discover that Rufus and the other black soldiers were not mentioned in the historical record of that event; a white man got credit instead. In

Episode 3, “Atomic City,” Rufus is able to procure waiter disguises unnoticed while Lucy and

Wyatt are still discussing a plan. At their surprised expressions, Rufus states, “‘Cause in ‘62 I’m pretty much invisible. It’s my superpower” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 9:50). He later poses as a

valet in order to acquire a getaway car, and immediately says to Lucy and Wyatt, “See?

Invisible” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 31:24). In Episode 7, “Stranded,” after Rufus figures out how to repair their time machine so that the team can jump back to the present, he sarcastically says,

“I was really hoping to be sold into slavery” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 33:48). In Episode 9, “Last

Ride of Bonnie & Clyde,” the camera focuses on segregated drinking fountains with signs reading “colored” and “white.” A little girl has trouble reaching the fountain, so Rufus picks her up and helps her use it. In Episode 10, “The Capture of Benedict Arnold,” we see slaves working in a field and white slave drivers as a reminder that slavery exists in this time period. Later, when

Benedict Arnold discusses a plan with Garcia Flynn to bring Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus to David

Rittenhouse, Arnold says that they shouldn’t bring everyone. Flynn responds, “These are idiotic, unenlightened times. But, I understand. We’ll leave Rufus behind” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016,

28:30). In Episode 11, “The World’s Columbian Exposition,” Rufus is trapped in “Murder

Castle” with Sophia Hayden. When he finds out she went to MIT, he says he did, too, which results in the following exchange:

Sophia: Oh, you must be Robert Robinson Taylor.

Rufus: No, uh, I’m the other black guy.

Sophia: There were two? (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 25:43)

In Episode 15, “Public Enemy No. 1,” Rufus is shot in 1931 and Lucy and Wyatt discuss the need to get him to a hospital. Lucy explains that hospitals at this time are segregated and “not good” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 40:43). In all of these examples, the critiques simultaneously say that the past is in opposition to the present, where racism has been eradicated. There are not critiques of racism during a present-day timeline that are also about present-day circumstances.

The second way Timeless portrays race in a negotiated framework is by historically recovering people of color, but tempering the recovery with dominant-hegemonic aspects in their character arcs. The first person Timeless recovers is Nicholas Biddle, a black man who is most known for being the first person to shed blood in the Civil War. Biddle would have been between

65 and 70 at the time Rufus meets him (Hoptak, 2008). However, the only similarity is the name.

The fictional character appears to be in his twenties and no mention is made of him being the first person to shed blood. Instead, fictional Biddle approaches Rufus, who is garbed in a Civil

War reenactment officer’s uniform, for help with writing a letter in the hopes of finding his wife and children. Biddle and his fellow soldiers are angry when they realize that Rufus’s uniform is fake and that he is an imposter. Later, they are hostile towards Rufus when he is waiting to save

Vice President Johnson from impending murder. Biddle and his cohorts then see Rufus save

Johnson, and end up rushing to his aid when the attempted murderer tries to retaliate against

Rufus. Timeless recovers Biddle’s name, but not his story. The only reason I do not consider this to be a dominant-hegemonic portrayal is because there is attention given to fictional Biddle’s lack of education due to his life as a slave and the way his family was ripped apart in order to sell them each into slavery. In this way, there is a critique of slavery, although it is highly tempered through the lack of historical fidelity to the real Nicholas Biddle’s life. The remaining recoveries are based on actual people’s lives.

The next person recovered is Gregory Hayes, who ran the Black Liberation Army’s

Washington, D.C. chapter. The Black Liberation Army was an underground militant organization that operated from 1970-1981 (Halliburton, 2016). Their stated goal was to, “take up arms for the liberation and self-determination of black people in the United States”

(Halliburton, 2016, para. 1). Gregory is featured in Episode 6, “The Watergate Tape,” which is

set in 1972. Gregory is portrayed as tough, strong, intimidating, protective, and loyal. Rufus is very familiar with Hayes, to Lucy’s surprise. She says to him, “How do you know all this? I mean, I don’t even know this stuff” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 19:23), to which Rufus responds,

“Gregory Hayes and Eldridge Cleaver, the founder of the BLA, I’ve read everything about these guys” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 19:25). This exchange contains a subtle critique of the erasure of black history. When Rufus approaches Hayes for help, he is suspicious of Rufus and threatens him physically until Rufus uses his historical knowledge to convince him that Eldridge Cleaver sent him. Hayes ends up bringing Rufus and Lucy to Doc, the black woman they seek for

Rittenhouse and Flynn. (Rittenhouse is coercing Rufus into assisting murdering Doc, and Flynn has threatened to kill Wyatt unless they bring Doc to him.) At the end of the episode, after Rufus and Lucy figure out how to avoid giving Doc to anyone, Hayes ends up being the one that will drive Doc away safely to San Diego. Hayes’s recovery is tempered by constructing him as a

‘good’ black person who helps white people and Rufus, who has already been constructed as

‘good.’

The next person recovered is Shawnee Chieftess Nonhelema, who is featured in Episode

7, “Stranded,” and I described in the previous section about gender. Although her gender portrayal is oppositional, her race portrayal is negotiated. As I described in the gender section,

Lucy deeply admires Nonhelema. Additionally, Nonhelema is portrayed as confident, collected, and logical. However, she is constructed as a ‘good’ Native American, and Rufus and

Nonhelema are put in the positions of supporting and helping the two white characters.

Nonhelema initially has Lucy and Wyatt marked for death, while she marks Rufus as someone to let go. She explains that she is sparing Rufus because he did not choose to be there; in 1754, the

only reason Rufus would likely have been with Lucy and Wyatt is because he was either their slave or servant. After hearing her reasoning, Rufus emphatically defends Lucy and Wyatt:

Ma'am? Respectfully, I'm asking you to listen. We're not who we said we were. We're not

from France. We're not British; we're not from anywhere around here. But these people

didn't force me to be with them. These people are my friends. They've saved my life on

more than one occasion. We look out for each other. Thing is, we're not even supposed to

be here. We just want to go home. Now, you can kill them, and I'm pretty sure there is

nothing I can do about it, but if you do you're gonna have to kill me too. (Ryan & Kripke,

2016, 22:19)

Rufus is willing to sacrifice his own life to save Lucy and Wyatt. He is rewarded for this behavior by Nonhelema sparing them all. She explains her decision and issues a warning:

If someone like him is willing to die for someone like you, then you're certainly not from

around here, are you?... I will spare your lives because of this man's honor. But if you

prove him wrong, I will spare no one. (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 23:26)

Nonhelema ultimately spares Lucy and Wyatt’s lives, against what her experience with the

French and missionaries has taught her. Through this decision, and by not extending her arc beyond this scene, Nonhelema’s portrayal overall contributes to privileging whiteness and constructing her as a ‘good’ Native American.

The next person recovered is Kathryn Johnson, a black female mathematician who is featured in Episode 8, “Space Race,” and I also described in the previous section about gender.

Similar to Nonhelema’s portrayal, although Kathryn’s gender portrayal is oppositional, her race portrayal is negotiated. As I described in the previous gender section, Kathryn is portrayed as professional, calm, intelligent, and competent. When Rufus explains who Katherine is, he also

highlights that she was effectively erased from popular historical understandings of American

space travel:

Rufus: Kathryn Johnson, the NASA mathematician? Graduated high school at 14.

Graduated college at 18. Calculated Alan Shepard's first space flight, plus a bunch

of the Mercury and Apollo missions. John Glenn wouldn't even trust a computer.

He'd only let Kathryn do the math. And she did this all as a black woman in 1969.

You ever see the movie Apollo 13?

Lucy: Of course.

Rufus: Yeah, well, she wasn't in it, even though she was a big part of bringing that crew

back home.

Lucy: I hope she can help.

Rufus: If anyone can, it's her. (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 19:07)

Here, Rufus points out that Kathryn was excluded from popular historical understandings of

American space travel, even though she was a central part of it in real life. This is a clear historical recovery. However, this recovery is tempered in several ways. First, immediately after this dialogue exchange, the show highlights white women’s experience of sexism in the office.

The above dialogue continues when a white male office worker says the following to a white female secretary: “And how about a refill, sweetheart? Lots of cream, lots of sugar” (Ryan &

Kripke, 2016, 19:28). This critique of a white woman’s experience of sexism is placed directly following the historical recovery of a black woman. This critique comes too close to Rufus’s critique of Kathryn’s erasure, resulting in one (or both) of the following: highlighting Kathryn’s woman-ness (and erasing her blackness), and/or diminishing the strength of Kathryn’s recovery by placing it directly before a highlight of (white) sexism. Second, at the end of the episode back

in the present, Rufus shares an article with Lucy whose headline states, “Female scientist saves moon landing”—not black female scientist saves moon landing. He continues to read the article and says, “They made her the first female flight director” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 40:05). Again, he does not say the first black female flight director. This again serves to diminish or even erase

Kathryn’s blackness. Additionally, similar to Nonhelema’s portrayal, Kathryn’s arc constructs her as a ‘good’ black person because she helps save the white male astronauts and the predominantly white NASA organization. This simultaneously contributes to the privileging of whiteness throughout this episode.

The next person is partially recovered: Robert Robinson Taylor. Robert is featured in

Episode 11, “The World’s Columbian Exposition,” and I mentioned him earlier in this section.

Robert is discursively recovered in passing during the exchange between Sophia Hayden and

Rufus about being alumni of MIT. Although the show brings light to Robert’s name and his accomplishment as the first black MIT student, Robert is not featured as a character in the show.

This lack of personified representation tempers what could have been a fuller recovery of Robert.

The next people recovered are Bass Reeves and Grant Johnson, who are featured in

Episode 12, “The Murder of Jesse James,” (notably not titled “The Real Lone Ranger,” or something similar). Bass Reeves is a black man who is a U.S. Deputy Marshal and is likely the inspiration for the Lone Ranger. When the core team arrives in 1882, Wyatt suggests that they get a local guide. Lucy takes them to the home of what she describes as the real-life Lone

Ranger: Bass Reeves. She says that, “Bass Reeves was responsible for over 3,000 arrests during his career. Arguably the best lawman in the Old West” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 11:11). When

Rufus asks why the town doesn’t come to him for help if he’s the best, Bass Reeves steps out of his house revealing that he is black. This communicates that the town won’t come to him for help

because he’s black. Rufus is incredibly excited about Bass Reeves and says, “The Lone Ranger’s black? That’s... awesome” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 11:30). Near the end of the episode, Rufus asks Bass to tell reporters about his accomplishments:

Rufus: Hey, Bass, Bass, you should talk to him [the reporter]. Wait, you should talk to a

lot of reporters.

Bass: Why?

Rufus: Because if you don't tell your story, someone else might, some white dick in a

mask might end up the legend instead of you. People are gonna want to know

your story. Today, tomorrow, maybe even 100 years from now.

Bass: I'm not doing this for them. (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 37:36)

These scenes highlight Bass Reeve’s accomplishments and offer a critique of his erasure and the appropriation of his story. However, this last exchange also exonerates the Lone Ranger creators by making Bass okay with not getting credit for his work; Bass does his work because it’s right, not because he wants to be famous. In line with this, Bass is portrayed as a ‘good’ black person in this episode. Bass’s character is deeply moral with a tremendous commitment to the law and justice. Additionally, he goes against his better judgment to help Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus find

Jesse James and bring him to justice. As a result, Bass’s best friend and partner, Grant Johnson, is killed. Lucy also betrays Bass by killing Jesse James even though Bass was clear that the only way he would help was if James was captured alive and put through the legal justice system.

Overall, Bass Reeves is historically recovered, but his portrayal is tempered by these dominant- hegemonic aspects of his character arc.

Grant Johnson is also recovered in this episode. According to the show, he is a mixed race black, Native American (Creek Indian), and white man. In Timeless, he is portrayed as a

lawman who is partners and best friends with Bass Reeves. Grant is introduced with a critique of

The Lone Ranger:

Wyatt: [whispers to Rufus] Hey. I think he's Tonto.

Grant: The hell'd you just say? Hey, Bass?

Bass: Yeah?

Grant: This one just called me a fool. Tried to hide it in Spanish.

Bass: Maybe he's onto something.

Rufus: [chuckles and says quietly to Wyatt] "Tonto" means "fool" in Spanish.

Wyatt: I know what it means.

Rufus: Whoever wrote "The Lone Ranger" sucks.

Wyatt: No, I'm sorry I didn't mean to - I'm Wyatt. (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 15:35)

In this exchange, Timeless explicitly points out the demeaning name given to the Native

American character in The Lone Ranger and then clearly condemns the franchise. The show later also highlights a racist Native American stereotype, and once again points out the “Tonto” name:

Rufus: So we're gonna track James, right? Follow his horse's footprints, stuff like that?

Grant: Yes. And the broken twigs and the scent in the wind. The spirits will guide us.

Rufus: Really?

Grant: No, not really. We're gonna interview witnesses to find out where they went

'cause that's what we do, we're lawmen. Tontos. (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 17:43)

Here, Timeless critiques the way Native Americans have been represented in Old West film and television. However, this recovery of Grant and the critique of racism are tempered by several aspects of Grant’s character arc. First, he is constructed as ‘good’ because he helps Lucy, Wyatt, and Rufus on their mission. Second, he pushes Lucy to cover just before Jesse James relentlessly

shoots into the cabin where they all are with a modern machine gun. Grant is shot in the process

and ultimately dies.

The final person Timeless recovers is Josephine Baker, who is featured in Episode 14,

“The Lost Generation.” Unlike Nonhelema’s and Kathryn Johnson’s portrayals, both Josephine’s gender and race portrayals are negotiated. As I described in the gender section, Josephine is portrayed as an intelligent and confident woman. She is also historically recovered as a black female entertainer that became an undercover spy for the Allies in World War II. However, this recovery is tempered by having Josephine’s character mainly there to help Ernest Hemingway,

Charles Lindbergh, Lucy, Bam Bam (Wyatt’s temporary replacement), and Rufus. Josephine provides information to help the ‘time team’ locate Garcia Flynn, who has captured Lindbergh and revealed him to be a member of Rittenhouse. At the end of the episode, Josephine arranges for Lindbergh to run away and start a new life for himself outside of the influence of

Rittenhouse. Josephine is not involved in the action between when the heroes are looking for

Lindbergh and when he needs help to escape.

In summary, Timeless offers many critiques of racism that are tempered by the “safe distance” the past offers the viewers. Additionally, Timeless includes several recoveries of historical people of color that are tempered by dominant-hegemonic aspects of their character arcs.

Overall Representations of Race

Timeless’s overall portrayal of race is a negotiated representation, but is nearly a dominant-hegemonic representation. Similar to gender, this is based on both quantity and quality, meaning how featured the representation is (e.g. is he or she a lead or background character) and the proximity to other types of representation. There are consistently dominant-

hegemonic portrayals of race throughout the first season: whiteness is nearly always privileged and made central, people of color are always categorized into ‘good’ and ‘bad’ according to how helpful they are to white people, and the government is consistently exonerated or justified in perpetuating systemic racism and colonialism. There are also several negotiated representations: there are consistent critiques of racism tempered by the “safe distance” of the past, as well as historical recoveries that are tempered by dominant-hegemonic qualities. Finally, there are no oppositional representations situated in the past. This is consistent with the literature I reviewed in a previous chapter, which argued that it’s impossible to have a truly critical historical representation of race because it encourages the audience to think about race as it was in the past, rather than how it is now (Roth, 2005 as cited in Benson-Allott, 2009). Additionally, there are no oppositional moments that appear in the present timelines during Timeless, altogether resulting in no oppositional representations throughout the show. I will now discuss the implications of these gender and race representations.

Chapter 6: Conclusion

In this study, I examined ideology of gender and race by closely analyzing the first

season of NBC’s Timeless. Specifically, I investigated the extent to which Timeless portrays women and race according to dominant-hegemonic, negotiated, and oppositional frameworks. I also investigated the extent to which nostalgia (postmodern, modern, and classical) plays a role in these portrayals. Overall, I found that Timeless portrays both women and race according to a

negotiated framework. However, its portrayal of race is closer to the dominant-hegemonic end of the spectrum than its portrayal of women is. Additionally, I found that nostalgia did not play a significant role in Timeless’s portrayal of women. However, it did play a significant role in its portrayal of race. There are several implications of these findings, which I will now discuss.

First, they contribute to the catalogue of typical representations found in historical fiction television. These additional representations, in turn, have their own ideological implications.

Second, these findings result in the identification of a new concept, “caveatic postmodern nostalgia,” which is a tactic used to perpetuate the dominant ideology (in this case, privileging whiteness). This concept refers to a type of postmodern nostalgia in which characters celebrate or are excited for the past, but include a critical caveat with the celebration. The celebration is then privileged over the critical caveat. I will now explain the implications of these findings as well as develop the concept of caveatic postmodern nostalgia, and then conclude with the limitations of this study and opportunities for future research.

Implications of Findings

The first implication of this study’s findings is that they add to the catalogue of typical representations found in historical fiction television. For example, Timeless negotiates representations of women in a unique way. The show includes all of the dominant-hegemonic

representations of women described in the literature, but some of them occur to a lesser degree

than typical. For example, women rarely require heteronormative romance for fulfillment in

Timeless. There are even cases of clear rejections. This is in contrast to typical representations of

women in historical fiction. One could argue that the time travel setting affords more opportunity

to do this, but that would not explain how Lost in Austen (which I reviewed earlier) handles

heteronormative romance. Lost in Austen features a present-day woman that travels back in time and into the world of Pride and Prejudice, and ultimately chooses to stay in the past in order to be with Mr. Darcy; this is a clear example of women requiring heteronormative romance for fulfillment. The relative rarity of the requirement of heteronormative romance for fulfillment in

Timeless provides promising radical potential. However, Timeless set the foundation for a future romance between Lucy and Wyatt, so it remains to be seen how the show will ultimately handle this topic.

Additionally, Timeless negotiates dominant-hegemonic representations by including clear rejections of some women’s stereotypes and of sexism, but tempering these rejections through the non-critical juxtapositions of dominant-hegemonic representations. This is especially true for the lead character, Lucy. She is competent, knowledgeable, and assertive. However, she is often physically inept compared to her male counterparts. She constantly has her seatbelt buckled for her by Wyatt, falls off horses when trying to mount them, almost never drives, and gingerly holds guns from pinched fingers. This tempering of Lucy implies that she is capable, but not too capable to the point of threatening men’s dominance.

Timeless also uniquely negotiates representations of women through its treatment of feminism. As I described earlier, Timeless does not feature any events or people explicitly associated with women’s rights movements or feminism. Instead, similar to Mad Men’s approach

(which I reviewed in a previous chapter), there are certain female characters in Timeless that are

individually able to break past sexist barriers (e.g. Sophia Hayden and Kate Drummond). In

contrast to Mad Men, these characters in Timeless are mostly real women from history, which is markedly feminist compared to the feature of fictional characters (as is done in Mad Men)

because it works toward the feminist aim of historical recovery. Additionally, Timeless’s

placement of present-day characters in the past creates the opportunity for explicit critiques of

sexism (e.g. Lucy’s speech in Episode 8, “Space Race”). This mix of including historical

recovery and explicit critiques, but excluding women’s rights history, results in disconnected

points of feminist moments. In a way, this is Timeless’s way of saying the familiar non-

committal statement that goes something like, “I believe that men and women should be equal,

but ‘feminist’ is too strong of a word and I reject that label.”

Furthermore, the exclusion of present-day critiques of sexism amplifies the

representation of sexism as a problem of the past. It implies that sexism has been eradicated in

the present and that feminism is no longer needed. On the surface, Timeless may seem to be

aligned with feminist aims, but if we look deeper, we can see that it actually distances itself from

present-day feminist work by equating sexism with pastness and excluding women’s rights

historical events and figures. This partial alignment with feminism, however, is promising

compared to the representations described in the literature; Timeless’s partial alignment is not an

outright rejection of feminism and it remains to be seen if Timeless will include explicit features

of women’s rights events and figures in future episodes.

Finally, Timeless includes some oppositional representations of women, which balance the dominant-hegemonic representations and reinforce the overall negotiated nature of the general representations. One of the more significant types of oppositional representations was

historical recoveries of women that aren’t tempered by a dominant-hegemonic character arc.

This is in contrast to the negotiated recoveries, which, in the case of Sophia Hayden, represented

her as a victim and someone who needed to be calmed down by a man in order to think properly.

The oppositional recoveries are exciting and hopeful from a gender perspective. However, they

are disappointing from a race perspective. Both of the oppositional gender recoveries are of

women of color (Chieftess Nonhelema and Kathryn Johnson), and neither woman is represented oppositionally from a race perspective.

These implications prompt us to ask why Timeless handles representations of women in this way. One reason could be the identities and positionalities of the producers and audience members. According to NBC’s Timeless website, Shawn Ryan and Eric Kripke are the show’s creators, producers, and writers (NBC, n.d.). Shawn Ryan is a white man in his early fifties who is known for The Shield, which is a crime drama television series that aired in the early 2000s

(IMDb, n.d.b). Eric Kripke is also a white man; he is in his early forties and is known for the television show Supernatural, which also aired in the early 2000s (IMDb, n.d.a). This background on Ryan and Kripke alone is telling, but information on their key historical source is also enlightening. In an interview with Ryan and Kripke published on SyFy.com, Kripke states,

We had a historian in the room, a guy named David Hoffman…we would sit with David

and we would just chat about time periods that were interesting to us or periods or

specific moments in history that we wanted to explore. (as cited in Huddleston, 2017,

para. 19)

David Hoffman has an interesting background, especially when we consider his (lack of) history

credentials. A look at Hoffman’s LinkedIn profile and a crosscheck with an online article about

him shows that Hoffman earned a Bachelor’s Degree in History from University of Pennsylvania

in 1998 (Hoffman, n.d.; J & The Tracking Board, 2016). From there, he went on to earn his

MBA in Finance from Columbia Business School, and had a fifteen-year career in the finance

industry. It seems he does not have history experience beyond his undergraduate education. Not

only are these credentials questionable in terms of making Hoffman a “historian,” but he is also a

white man who is in his early forties, meaning that the main people running Timeless are all

white, middle-aged men.

Although Timeless’s key storytellers are all men, the likely primary audience for Timeless is women. These women are likely white, in their twenties to forties, educated, and politically progressive. They may or may not identify as feminists, but they at least want to see stories that feature a strong female lead. As members (and products) of U.S. culture, these women are also situated in the broader discourse of gender in the United States, which relates to the second reason for Timeless’s portrayal of women.

In a previous chapter, I reviewed literature that pointed out that historical fiction television does present-day ideological work under the guise of pastness (Tincknell, 2013). This is the second potential reason for Timeless’s portrayal of women: Historical television may feature content set in the past, but it is really about present-day issues and concerns. How, then,

does this apply to the context of Timeless when it comes to gender ideology? To answer this

question, I will discuss the general status of gender in U.S. culture and provide specific examples

that indicate this status.

Overall, there has been a tension in the U.S. between a perception of living in a

postfeminist society (in the popular sense of the word, which refers to a society in which sexism

has been eradicated) and a society that still needs feminism. On the one hand, there has been a

general belief that women’s rights work is no longer needed or that feminism is undesirable

(Lotz, 2003; Dockterman, 2014a). On the other, we have seen feminism gain increased exposure in mainstream popular culture through major celebrities such as Emma Watson, Beyoncé, and

Joseph Gordon Levitt (Bennet, 2014; Dockterman, 2014b; Kahn, 2015).

More specifically, this show aired during a historic U.S. presidential election year—the

Democratic candidate was Hillary Rodham Clinton, who was the first female presidential candidate to be endorsed by one of the two major political parties. Timeless would have been shot during the height of the campaign, during which Hillary’s opponent, Donald Trump, countered her campaign message of empowerment and togetherness with one of xenophobic fearmongering and blatant, unapologetic sexism (Leonhardt & Philbrick, 2018; Zelizer, 2018).

Trump was regularly recorded demeaning women, and was even recorded bragging about sexually assaulting women (Zelizer, 2018). Although Hillary Clinton won the popular vote,

Trump was ultimately elected after winning the electoral vote. These results were perceived by many as a huge blow to women’s political and social progress (Filipovic, 2016).

In response to the rise of anti-women beliefs and policies and problematic gender norms, a new organization coordinated their first Women’s March, which took place January 21, 2017

—the day after the U.S. presidential inauguration. This march was world-wide and open to people of all genders and backgrounds. Five million people participated in the march, making it,

“the largest coordinated protest in U.S. history and one of the largest in world history”

(Women’s March, n.d.b). Since then, Women’s March has continued to systematically organize what they call “Actions” and is still currently active. The organization states that their mission is,

“to harness the political power of diverse women and their communities to create transformative social change...Women’s March is committed to dismantling systems of oppression through

nonviolent resistance and building inclusive structures guided by self-determination, dignity and

respect” (Women’s March, n.d.a).

Considering this cultural, political, and social context, it becomes more clear that

Timeless is doing present-day ideological work. Timeless’s overall negotiated representation of

women can be seen as a negotiated response to present-day tensions about women’s rights and

feminism. We can see it as one point of articulation in the larger discourse on women and gender in the United States. Timeless smooths over tensions by both recovering historical women and

re-covering sexism behind a curtain of pastness. The show performs a balancing act of representing women as capable and important but not too capable or important to the point of threatening men’s dominance. In some ways, Timeless creates radical potential for women, but in others, Timeless reminds us of and naturalizes women’s place in the social hierarchy (below men). This is compounded for women of color, whose historical recoveries were not presented oppositionally from a race perspective; Timeless therefore also reminds us and naturalizes that women of color are below white women in the social hierarchy.

Now that we have considered the implications of this study’s findings on gender, I will discuss the implications of the findings on race. The way Timeless negotiates representations of race is also somewhat unique. For example, similar to the recoveries of women, Timeless historically recovers people of color but tempers the recoveries with dominant-hegemonic character arcs. One of the most significant examples of this is the recovery of Kathryn Johnson.

As I discussed earlier, her recovery features escalating erasures of her blackness in favor of her un-racially-marked (i.e. white) womanness. The pinnacle example of this is the inclusion of her gender but the exclusion of her race from the archived news headlines describing her accomplishments: “Female scientist saves moon landing” (Ryan & Kripke, 2016, 40:00). This

news article is fictional; Timeless could have made the headline whatever it wanted and the show excluded Kathryn’s accomplishment as a black woman in favor of an un-racially-marked (i.e. white) option. This exclusion contributes to post-racial ideology (i.e. racism has been eradicated) and colorblind ideology (i.e. race shouldn’t be considered because we’re all humans). On the other hand, another significant recovery was of Gregory Hayes and Eldridge Cleaver of the

Black Liberation Army (BLA). Excitingly, this recovery is explicitly associated with civil rights.

Additionally, Timeless does not present the BLA as a terrorist organization, which is progressive because if you were to do an Internet search for the BLA, the first sources you see likely categorize them as one.

Timeless also uniquely represents race from a dominant-hegemonic framework by privileging whiteness in a unique way, which I am calling “caveatic postmodern nostalgia.” We can define caveatic postmodern nostalgia as a type of postmodern nostalgia in which characters celebrate or are excited for the past, but include a critical caveat with the celebration. The celebration is then privileged over the critical caveat (if it isn’t, we are no longer in nostalgic territory). There are several ways the celebration can be privileged over the critical caveat: verbally concluding that the past is great, ignoring the caveat in favor of excitement for the past, and reacting negatively to the caveat. Additionally, in Timeless, the responsibility of providing the caveat falls on a minority group. Lucy (a woman) provides a caveat to the notion that the

1960s were awesome and Rufus (a black man) provides a caveat by pointing out that he had to sit on the back of a bus. Wyatt (a white man) does not provide a caveat. However, I do not think this is a condition of the concept; any character can offer the caveat.

An implication of caveatic postmodern nostalgia is that it reinforces the dominant ideology and brushes off critical concerns. However, this ideological tactic is sneaky; it includes

a critique that makes it seem as if the dominant ideology is being challenged. Indeed, the inclusion of a critique opens up the potential for such a challenge. However, this potential is narrowed or even closed by brushing off the critique. It will be interesting to see if Timeless uses caveatic postmodern nostalgia as a stepping stone to making full critiques in future episodes, or if they stop at this point of sprinkling in critiques without rocking the ideological boat too much.

Similar to its representation of gender, Timeless’s representation of race prompts us to ask why these messages are occurring now and what present-day ideological work they are doing. As I discussed earlier, the show’s primary storytellers are all white men. Based on concepts of discourse and subjectification (Foucault, 1978), as well as racial standpoint theory

(Kinefuchi & Orbe, 2008), this cultural position informs how these storytellers view and make sense of the world around them. Now, just because Ryan and Kripke are both white doesn’t mean that they don’t have good intentions when it comes to featuring people of color. In an interview with them published on deadline.com a few months before the series aired, Ryan and

Kripke express that it’s important to them to feature an African-American lead (N’Duka, 2016).

They also explain that they intended to highlight historical racism through Rufus’s (the aforementioned African-American lead character) experiences in the past. In an interview published on syfy.com after the first season finale, Kripke says that he and Ryan knew they wanted to meet Josephine Baker (a black woman featured in Episode 14, “The Lost Generation,” which is set in 1927) by the end of the first season (Huddleston, 2017). However, based on this study’s findings, these intentions were either not fully realized or they just weren’t very radical to begin with. We have to wonder why, if highlighting issues of race was important to them,

Ryan and Kripke didn’t consult with a legitimate history or communication scholar that specialized in a relevant area of study.

As I also discussed earlier, the show’s primary audience is also likely white. They are

likely educated and politically progressive. They probably want to be an ally for people of color,

but still also want to see stories in which the people that look like them are heroes. Timeless’s

negotiated representation of race, then, works well for this audience. The show helps them check

the box of criticizing white privilege while simultaneously feeling good about their whiteness. If

this is the case, Timeless’s way of negotiating representations of race through techniques like

caveatic postmodern nostalgia may help its audience avoid feelings of “racial exhaustion”

(Hutchinson, 2008), which is described as white people feeling tired of acknowledging and

discussing racial injustice, likely due to a sense of guilt. This relates to the general status of race

in the U.S., which, as with gender, has also been marked by tension. On the one hand, there has

been a perception that we live in a postracial society where racism has been eradicated, while on

the other, there has been growing awareness of racial inequality (Lentin, 2014; Pew Research

Center, 2016; Stanford News, 2017). More recently, there have also been blatant displays and

justifications of racist and xenophobic attitudes and actions.

For example, as I mentioned earlier, this show aired during a historic U.S. presidential

election year. In addition to the anti-woman messages of Donald Trump’s campaign, words, and

actions, he also encouraged xenophobia and racism. This was all done under the overarching

slogan of “Make America Great Again,” which used modern nostalgia for a white-dominant and patriarchal society to gain support for his presidential bid. More specifically, during his campaign Trump was recorded as describing all Mexican immigrants as murderers and rapists, and one of the pillars of his campaign was building a wall on the U.S.-Mexican border and having Mexico pay for it (Halliburton, 2016; Time, 2015). After taking office, Trump signed

Executive Order 13769, popularly known as the “Muslim Ban” or “Travel Ban,” which

prevented anyone from certain “high-risk” countries from entering or remaining in America

(BBC, 2017). The order garnered worldwide backlash for being a thinly-veiled sanction for discriminating against Muslim people, as well as rejecting Syrian refugees in need of help. In the United States, there were high-profile airport protests throughout the country and viral social media activities.

In addition to these events related to Trump, racism awareness and civil rights concerns had already been gaining prevalence in mainstream culture in the time period leading up to and during Timeless’s airing. This is typified by Black Lives Matter (BLM), which is an organization founded in 2013 that is self-described as, “an ideological and political intervention in a world where Black lives are systematically and intentionally targeted for demise” (Black Lives Matter, n.d., para. 3). BLM’s activity began on social media with the hashtag #BlackLivesMatter in response to the acquittal of George Zimmerman, a neighborhood watch coordinator who shot and killed Trayvon Martin, an unarmed black male teenager. BLM grew into a global network with over 40 chapters, and is currently active (Black Lives Matter, n.d.). One of the main responses

BLM received from white critics was that “all lives matter”—a phrase grounded in colorblind and postracial ideologies where white people are at the top of the social hierarchy.

Experiences of Asian Americans were also highlighted in mainstream popular culture. In

May 2016, NBC Asian America released a video on the topic of “Lunch Box Moments” (NBC

News, 2016). This video featured Asian Americans sharing personal experiences with feeling like an “other” because of their food. One of the featured women explicitly reminds viewers that she is a person of color. In 2015, there was a new Broadway musical called, “Allegiance,” that featured the experiences of Japanese Americans in the 1940s American internment camps (Gans,

2016). This musical was also screened nationwide in movie theatres during the same time period

Timeless was on the air: once in December 2016 and again in February 2017 (Rafu Shimpo,

2017).

Finally, U.S. mistreatment of Native Americans became a hot issue throughout 2016 in

two key ways. The first example is the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL), which is an oil pipeline

that Native Americans protested the construction of due to it being a high risk to their nearby

water supply. Native Americans and others throughout the country gathered in Standing Rock to

protest and prevent construction in Spring 2016. The controversy continued throughout the year,

and on November 15, 2016, there were organized protests in cities throughout the U.S. to protest

construction (Medina & Sottile, 2016). The second example is of the Cleveland Indians, which is

a Major League Baseball team that played in the 2016 World Series, which ran from October

through November of 2016. This team’s mascot is an Indian, and the mascot’s visual depiction is

a racist caricature. The team’s presence in the World Series made the symbol a high-profile and

national controversy, with many decrying the representation while others (including the team’s

management) denied its racist function, saying that it actually honored Native Americans

(Putterman, 2018).

These examples point to highly tense race relations and intense struggles over race-based

oppression in the United States during Timeless’s airing. As with gender, when we consider this

context, we can see Timeless as one point of articulation in the larger discourse on race in the

United States and as a response to present-day tensions about racism and xenophobia. For example, Timeless also takes a pretty clear stance on issues of foreignness and xenophobia: non-

Americans are bad and Americans are good. They specifically take a troubling and clear stance on Latino/a/x people: they do not exist, but when they do, they are foreign and bad. As I described in the previous chapter, the only representation of Latino/a/x people are of Mexicans

during the Battle of the Alamo, where Texans are the heroes and Mexicans are morally

repugnant villains. This echoes the anti-Mexican and anti-Latino/a/x policies and attitudes encouraged and perpetuated by Trump’s campaign and his administration.

Timeless also engages in a balancing act of featuring people of color, while then marginalizing people of color’s stories in favor of white stories. For example, the use of caveats indicates an attempt by Timeless to distance itself from and disguise racism, and/or alleviate racial exhaustion and the guilt of marginalization even while partaking in it. This is similar to the role disclaimers and apologias (which serve a denial or defense function rather than a warning or cautionary function) have played in mainstream popular culture (e.g. Trump saying he is not racist while simultaneously using modern nostalgia to promote white male dominance and encourage racist or xenophobic policies, and the Cleveland Indians saying they are honoring

Native Americans with their demeaning racist caricature). Separated by the safe distance of the past, Timeless does not have the same pressure as those in the present do to deny or defend racism; it is more comfortable to judge others in the past than it is to judge ourselves in the present. However, as a show created in the present-day for present-day audiences, it does have the same pressure of the dominant-hegemonic racial ideology, which seeks to maintain white dominance in the face of protests and challenges. Caveatic postmodern nostalgia advances this aim: it checks the box of acknowledging racism in order to create distance from it, and then sneakily perpetuates the dominant racial ideology by privileging the celebration of a racist past over the caveat.

Limitations and Opportunities for Future Research

As with any study, there were several limitations. First, I am just one person, so these findings are ultimately what I (the researcher) think. However, this is a typical approach in

critical media studies; for example, most of the historical fiction literature I reviewed in this

study was completed by a single researcher. Second, this study focuses on just one show, and on

one season (which is all that had aired at the time of analysis). However, this relatively narrow

breadth enabled a greater depth of analysis. Still, there are many opportunities for future research

in two main areas: expanding research on Timeless and investigating the transfer of these

findings to other entertainment media contexts.

One main opportunity for future research is to expand research on Timeless. For example,

there is opportunity to analyze future seasons of Timeless to see how it handles representations of

gender and race. Additionally, there is opportunity to compare this study’s findings with

audience responses. This study focused on the encoding side of Hall’s (1973/1993) model so

investigating audience interpretation would shift the focus to the decoding side of the model.

Taken together, these findings would help us gain a more holistic ideological snapshot.

Furthermore, there is opportunity to focus closely on representations of specific racial and ethnic

groups in Timeless. For example, one could conduct a complete study on the representations of

black people in Timeless by historicizing and contextualizing the representations in detail.

Finally, there is opportunity to more closely consider representations of men and masculinity in

order to gain a more complete picture of gender representations. This is a gap in historical fiction

literature, so there is also opportunity to consider representations beyond Timeless and do

archival research.

A second main opportunity for future research is to analyze other historical fiction, time travel, or parallel timeline television shows for the presence of the representational tropes found in Timeless. A few examples of such shows include The Goldbergs, Fresh Off The Boat, and

This Is Us. It would be especially interesting to see if caveatic postmodern nostalgia extends

outside of Timeless. If it does, is it unique to time travel or alternate history programs? Is it present in other contemporary historical fiction? Is it present in contemporary fiction that is

completely situated within present-day timelines? Additionally, if it is present outside of

Timeless, are minority-group-characters responsible for providing the critical caveat? What other

ways is celebration privileged over the critical caveat than the ones I’ve described?

To review, I analyzed the first season of NBC’s Timeless in order to investigate ideology

of gender and race. I found that Timeless portrays both women and race according to a

negotiated framework, but that race is portrayed closer to the dominant-hegemonic end of the

spectrum than women are portrayed. Timeless featured new types of representation, including a

new concept which I am calling “caveatic postmodern nostalgia,” which is a tactic that sneakily

perpetuates the dominant ideology. This study leads to many opportunities for future research as

we continue to investigate ideology, uncover power struggles, and question the “common sense”

of culture and social norms.

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