Maybe you’ve felt a little happier watching television or listening to music lately—it’s a long shot, but maybe. Perhaps you’ve felt more optimistic, more encouraged about people’s intentions. Again, it’s a long shot, but if you have, maybe it’s on account of the recent surge in earnestness in art.
Surely, you’ve noticed. There was Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (the most egregious Oscars snub in a decade), the heart-warming documentary about one man’s mission to care for the development of children and teach each of them that they are loved. this year was the sequel to Paddington, both of which stand as monuments to the power of kindness and good intentions. Even in the world of comedy, an arena normally saturated with cynicism, there have been signposts of earnestness. Bo Burnham, comedian, has sprinkled calls for kindness in all of his stand-up routines. And Patton Oswalt’s recent Netflix special, ironically entitled Annihilation, ends with a heartfelt plea for goodwill.
More mild examples exist in films like Aquaman, Bumblebee, and Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. Each of these is coming out of series darker or more cynical in tone, but by building a movie on unadulterated fun or delving into the sincere emotion of a child, they manage something a little more uplifting. Consider also the success of The Greatest Showman or the acclaim surrounding The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt.
In common for all these works in the public sphere is the desire to present an earnest and optimistic presentation of art. There is the assumption that people want to be good and want to see good from others. There is hope that society can eventually progress despite any temporary setbacks. There is a reliance on the good intentions of individuals and the potential available in those who choose joy and kindness.
Postmodernism, as you’ve surely heard, is the movement that developed following the destruction brought on by WWII and the collapse of all our assurances in religion and science and the strength of humanity. It’s closely tied to relativism and pluralism, irony, and—most critically—nihilism. In a rejection of the truths of modernity, of the classic foundations of knowledge, postmodernism questions the very possibility of meaning.
Postmodernism really took hold in the sixties. While pure postmodernism can never really dominate the attitudes of individuals, it has had significant influence in the last few decades. Any appeal to “You do you” or “whatever makes you happy” would qualify as outflows of postmodernism—so would all of the Old Spice commercials or TV shows like Black Mirror. These are the obvious examples; they’re clear portrayals of relativism, ludicrousy, and pessimism.
But postmodernism is more subtle and more pervasive than even these. The critically acclaimed Coen Brothers’ films are some of the most famous and accepted postmodern films (consider the clearly postmodern Burn After Reading or the undeniably nihilistic Ballad of Buster Scruggs).
Or consider something even more mainstream like The Office. While surely more optimistic than its BBC counterpart, it’s a show built around discomfort and the cynicism of office jobs. Most of the acclaimed, popular television of the last decade exhibits the same traits (though often without the humor)—Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, and House of Cards are all stories that dismantle our assumption of heroic protagonists and deliver a more edgy form of entertainment.
But of course, optimism was not to be thwarted.
Really it was inevitable that postmodernism would not keep its grip. People simply cannot live with that level of ambiguity. Moreover, a culture cannot be nourished by pessimism and irony alone. It was unavoidable from the outset that postmodernism would be ousted by an equally pluralistic, radically more sincere mode of thought. A decade ago, we should have predicted those who would end a comedy hour talking about genuine emotions or a documentary rejoicing in an adult’s love for children. (That sort of inevitability makes it almost embarrassing for Showtime’s new series, Kidding, a jaded spoofing of the life of Fred Rogers.)
This resurgence in earnestness is turning out to be a powerful force in media and art, and it will only continue growing. Philosophers and sociologists have noticed it, giving it titles like post-postmodernism, metamodernism, or the New Sincerity. I like that last name because it describes this new movement’s determination to avoid laughing its struggles away, mocking or mimicking the old answers. Individuals embracing the New Sincerity seek to face their problems head-on with courage and hope.
And surely this change in tides is a good thing. Yes, some have pointed to the individualism espoused by people like Rogers that has lead to rampant entitlement, but that is a small price to pay for fulfillment and kindness in . The New Sincerity, existentialism, accepts the meaninglessness of truth-claims and objectivity, but despite that , it aspires to be just as joyous and good-willed.
This all warrants an important question: what is the response of the religious? Some theologians have labeled postmodernism as diametrically opposed to the Christian faith. Others appreciate its valuable critique to the over-certainty of previous generations, now learning to live in ambiguity and paradox. But what about this New Sincerity? On one hand, it should be lauded—no longer is our culture one that deals in the currency of cynicism and irony. Instead, is found in earnest joy and the prodding on towards kindness. Yet, is the reactionary movement yet another attempt to deny the treasures of faith? It is folly to suggest that the non-religious cannot live morally or retain hope, but it is clear that living by the Spirit offers a level of substantiality otherwise unavailable—and this post-postmodernism seeks to circumvent that possibility. It offers a replacement that cannot truly replace; it is the new sincerity, but the sincerity of what?
Addendum:
Consider also as examples of this change in pace recent Super Bowl commercials. While a few years ago, the vast majority of commercials would have been silly, ludicrous shorts designed to make you laugh, now they are split between the humorous and the sincere, the ones designed to draw you into some sort of story. One last example worth mentioning is the juxtaposition between the shows The Office and Parks & Recreation. In most ways, Parks and Rec is a very similar show to its forerunner The Office, but the real difference is found in the former’s earnestness and optimism.