Why reading Umberto Eco explains Westworld (and other stories of the kind)

Nicolas C
7 min readSep 14, 2018

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Reminder: This story is the second of a series, which started here with a quick presentation of Umberto Eco and this crucial human science called semiotics. If you aren’t yet familiar with all that, I can but recommend you to go and have a quick look!

What if the game you were playing suddenly became real? Here’s, to sum up, the question raised by HBO’s Westworld. I thought this question could be interestingly woven with one of Umberto Eco’s : what if the reality you thought you were in was but a game? By exploring Eco’s theory, I think we can cast an interesting light on the myths and fantasms expressed in (or by) Westworld.

In his collection of articles published in French under the title La Guerre du faux (War on fakery, 1973), Umberto Eco doesn’t explore truth and forgery; he doesn’t denounce the speeches that are Fake, to show us what is True — there doesn’t exist such illumination, except in political parties’ leaflets. Umberto Eco begins by clarifying that “the texts in this collection are all more or less focused on discourses that are not necessarily verbal discourses, and that are not necessarily emitted nor perceived as such.” According to him, there are only discourses hiding other discourses; everything is discourse, and if you understand that, it’s already a good starting point. Then, what we’re going to do now is try to learn how to read these different layers of discourse woven around Westworld.

A trip into hyperreality

Forget your high expectations, I’m not going to talk about next Star Trek’s scenario. In the part of the book which interests me, Umberto Eco describes a trip in the United States, especially through a number of amusements parks such as Disneylands, which is the occasion of a reflexion on reality, mimicking reality and reaching hyper-reality.

You might sometimes wonder: what is better than the Eiffel Tower? Well, a bigger Eiffel tower.

France Miniature recreates famous French monuments

One of Eco’s first observations is that the Americans copy their models in real size, or even bigger. Usually, in Europe, the copies are of a smaller size (for instance, France Miniature, which is a park in which you can see smaller versions of famous monuments). Well, we do what we can. Eco interprets this will to copy in real size as a way of producing an illusion of reality, which expresses the division of the American nation between an unbridled progressivism (the text was written in 1975, but I guess the vision still holds) and a regressive nostalgy.

As such, in museums which all pretend that they are “the most authentic” one, what is important isn’t the real authenticity but the message (or discourse, remember?) transmitted, that is to say, a visual authenticity: it doesn’t matter if the reproduction you have in front of you has nothing to do with reality, as long as it correctly mimics your own image of that reality. For instance, Eco describes a wax statues reproduction of Leonardo Da Vinci’s The Last Supper. The tridimensional reproduction doesn’t intend to mimic the painting itself (since the comparison with the original could never be as good as the original), but the image we have of the scene: it is more real than the painting, since “there is more”. And if there’s a small reproduction of the original painting standing near the sculptures, it’s not a compensation for not having the original one but a foil destined to show that, after all, who needs a lame painting? “Once we have eliminated the fetichist desire of the original, the copies are perfect”, sums up Umberto Eco.

The Last Supper, Wax Statues version — Fort Worth, Texas

In the same way, it is in order to gain in reality that the museums invent their own folklore. Eco states that “History can’t be copied; one makes it”: false things, in order to be recognized as “historical”, need to have their own stories. A false manor created in order to become a museum will show remainders of his construction, the provenance of the copies he exposes, will narrate his story — as it’s now trendy to do on orange juice bottles, cereal packaging, etc.

The contrary is happening in zoos: while in wax museums, everything is sign trying to become reality (forgery trying to pass for real), zoos are places where everything is real and tries to become a sign. That is: the bear, who was taught to wave a paw when a tourist waves at him, doesn’t actually greet him; that’s what we think, because we’ve been influenced into creating a false signification correspondence between him moving and the way we greet each other.

Let us now focus on amusement parks, which is mainly what Westworld is about. Eco argues that amusement parks can be analyzed like real cities. Unlike movie theaters, theaters or (normal) parks, which are entertainment places located within cities, Disneyland and the likes are cities mimicking other cities, trying to pass for real: in Westworld, you can eat in a saloon, pay with old dollars, you could even work if you wanted. Still, there are leaks of reality in these fictions: these fake shops, offering fake products, only work if you have real money (or, fake money initially exchanged with authentic money). Eco here quotes L. Marin, for who “the degenerated utopy is an ideology realized under the form of a myth”. Okay, let’s clarify this rather abstruse sentence: Disneyland is more realistic than a wax museum because it manages to pass for real, not what has been real (Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe) but a fantasy (Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck). Disneyland thus performs the “total theatre”. We’re getting close to Westworld, don’t worry.

Eco suggests that “this America”’s ideology is to comfort itself through imitation. Consumers want to experience Evil (the historical and biblical evil), so one offers them a copy of Dracula and a copy of Milo’s Venus, both with the same degree of credibility. And, with — I must add — a Marxist reading of the process, Eco asserts that the consumer, ignorant of his fate (is it heaven ? is it hell ?), finds a solace in the purchase of new myths and promises.

Westworld, the total theatre

As you certainly remember, Westworld is one of HBO’s latest original shows, adapted from a previous movie, and produced, among others, by Bryan Burk and J.J. Abrams (who, together, produced trifles such as the Star Trek reboot series, Star Wars : The Force Awakens, and also shows such as Lost). Basically, the idea is that in the future, someone has developed an amusement park in which you can become a real cowboy and shoot on fake foes (androids) and sleep with fake whores (androids).

Of course, there are a few interferences — that is, androids that won’t let you shoot them -, and there are many plot-twists of various kinds ; one could easily draw a parallel between this series and Netflix’s Black Mirror, and lead a technophobic development (“you thought we were only machines ? ha, here’s for you”). But that’s not what seems interesting to me.

You probably understand what I’m getting at: real cowboy? Fake foe?

I think that, according to Umberto Eco’s analysis on amusement parks, we could follow suit and wonder whether the point of this real-life, real-looking recreation of the Western movie isn’t a way for the consumer (the future cowboy) to live in hyperreality. The proposition is for you to become part of the myth, of the legend; or, rather, to become a legend in what seems reality: if the rest seems genuine, you are like the hero of the movie, able to shoot everyone and never to be shot dead.

Ask yourself: what lies behind the phantasm of entering a virtual world, which has the appearance of a real one?

Well, let me pause again for one second. Quickly. Without transition, here’s the definition of the game, according to German scholar Johan Huizinga (in his incredible book Homo Ludens, 1938) :

“an action that is free, perceived as “fictitious” and located out of daily life, able nevertheless to absorb the player […], performed in an explicitly delimited time and space, and that unfolds following given rules”.

Now, think about it: this definition exactly fits both your dog playing with another, you going to play soccer, or the characters of the show going to this amusement park.

This parenthesis was necessary to be reminded that Westworld is nothing but a game. But unlike playing World of Warcraft — which you know is virtual -, Westworld wants to make you feel like you’re living a real experience. And, in order to live a stronger experience, the best way for the managers of the park is to create a hyperreal place : everything is represented not according to the original (The Last Supper / a relatively uninteresting midwest town) but to our own representation of the original (The Last Supper, wax-statue version / a copy of Once upon a time in the west). Here, we can live and fulfill our fantasies, because we live in a fantasy, we live in the representation of our ideal.

What should we remember concerning this?

That, more and more, what is virtual tends to make us forget what is real, partly by affecting the appearance of reality, but mainly by pretending to copy reality while actually copying a fantasized reality.

Since games and places like Westworld’s will become more and more omnipresent, I thought this was an important reminder: beware, if you desire to live such an experience, not to mistake it for reality. Everything is mystified, and you shall not only keep in mind that it’s not part of the real world, but also that it’s not a copy of a virtual world. If you keep that in mind, you can freely enjoy, and to immerse yourself in this copy of a mystified reality.

Quick reminder : This episode is part of a series on Umberto Eco. If you haven’t read the first episode and liked this one, here’s the first episode ! And, as always, any comments on how to improve my writing are welcome.

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Nicolas C
Nicolas C

Written by Nicolas C

French journalist writing on literature, culture, tech and technocriticism. Personal website : https://www.curabooks.fr. Twitter : @NicolasCelnik

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