Clapping and Recognition
By Antonio Bullon Puckett
You know what’s a pretty weird phenomenon? Applause after films. That’s not to say that I don’t clap when I’m amazed by a movie, but when you really think about it, doesn’t it feel kind of silly to smack your hands together when you feel particularly impressed by a work of art? And why don’t we ever do it outside the theater, when we’re watching a movie at home alone?
People who’ve been around infants would tell you that clapping has a pre-social, almost primal function. Babies often start clapping simply to revel in the tactile sensation against their palms, or because it’s one of the easiest ways to make loud sounds - to be noticed. It’s their way of exploring and learning the limits of their body. In fact, it’s not entirely uncommon to find babies spontaneously clapping out of sheer excitement. At this stage, I'd argue that clapping doesn't have the same social and symbolic function that evolves as we grow older.
Somewhere along the way, clapping starts to become appropriate only in certain social contexts. Maybe you pick it up from others around you, but at a certain age you learn that clapping is now a fairly strict form of bodily discipline that we compulsively engage in when we appreciate that which escapes language. Seeing an athletic or artistic performance that goes beyond the pale seems to awaken some preverbal instinct. However, there’s also the social aspect. Like all rituals, applauding with others conveys a sense of belonging within a community, because after all, you don’t clap when you’re alone. For live performances, it makes sense that you clap as a gesture of appreciation to the performers. But why do we clap for films when the directors and actors aren’t at the screenings? The more I dwell on it, the stranger it all seems.
I believe that it ultimately traces back to a universal desire to be recognized by the other - a kind of primal regression. Clapping as a baby is about making noise to get your parent’s attention. The gaze of the other is self-affirming in this case. As we get older, clapping retains this primal urge for recognition. I’ve been to plenty of basketball games where drunk guys are only clapping to draw attention to themselves, but when you clap after a made basket, you’re expressing your appreciation – and indeed, your recognition – of the player who scored the basket. The same holds true of a piano recital or a school play or a graduation ceremony.
Yet, in the realm of film and digital media, clapping serves a nuanced purpose beyond mere acknowledgment. In these mediums, where physical presence is lacking, applause becomes a means of actively engaging with the art, fostering a sense of participation and connection with the artist despite the virtual barrier.
There's this stereotype about Americans clapping after a plane lands, but why do we find this particular expression of appreciation so odd while accepting others as natural extensions of the art form? If we view cinematographers or film editors as artists, why not consider pilots in the same light? Isn't it more logical to applaud a pilot, who's essentially delivering a live performance, rather than clapping at an inanimate plane? At the very least, it prompts us to question the social role of clapping: at some stage in life, we grasp that there's a specific time and place for applause. But where exactly do we draw that line?
So, next time you find yourself at the end of a film, pondering whether to join in on the applause, remember the journey we've taken—from baby claps to virtual rounds. It's not just about showing appreciation; it's about recognizing the artistry, connecting with others, and questioning the norms that surround us. So go ahead, clap away, and keep exploring the playful dance of recognition in our ever-evolving world of art and applause.
