there's something to be said, i think, about modern fandom's increasing fixation with paratext versus canon -- whether that's something as substantial as entertainment articles, actor interviews, comments from showrunners, bts footage, and deleted scenes or something as insubstantial (and often misleading) as an actor's body language while they do promo, unsubstantiated rumors of displeasure or friction between the cast and/or the writers, and full blown conspiracy theories ("there's a secret unaired episode that will make everything right" is a popular one right now). maybe it's obvious to say that this probably stems from an audience that is fundamentally dissatisfied or disinterested in the story they're being told and instead privileges the story they've convinced themselves they've been told by virtue of their fandom experience. in other words, that there's a kind of enmeshment that happens for some of us where the meta-analyses, headcanons, and fandom chatter (which often takes a kernel of truth from canon and runs with it to often fascinating but not always legitimate readings) becomes blurred with what is actually canon to the media we're enjoying. at least, i can certainly trace where this blurring of boundaries has shown up with me in my long history with fandom, particularly when i was coming of age.
i think it's uncomfortable, but often necessary to recognize when we're watching a show or a film or reading a book or playing a video game with different expectations or desires than the story ever promised to fulfill. simply, you can't draw blood from a stone, you know? and I think this idea, however simple, is often very easy to forget when you're in fandom because fanworks are innately transformative. in fandom, we draw blood from stones all the time. we re-imagine characters, relationships, universes in whichever way we deem fit so that we can experience wish fulfillment. but as the fourth wall between fandom and the creatives behind media becomes thinner and thinner, the boundary between what is the job of storytellers (to tell a story), what is the job of the audience (to receive the story or opt out), and what is the job of fandom (to connect with one another over shared imaginative and transformative reception of the story being told) is getting muddied to detrimental effect. coupled with the rise of hyper-individualism and the increasing commodification of fanworks into traditionally published forms, this is where we get a real wave of entitlement from fandom -- this sense that the storyteller owes something to us by virtue of our fannish devotion and that perceived failure to meet our desires is worthy of a host of outrage and abuses.
i think this is where paratext comes in and why the notion of what is or isn't canon feels perhaps more debatable now than ever before. i think it's born from a blend of hyper-individualism effecting how we think and behave as audience members, the increasing sense of entitlement that is borne out of such individualist thinking, the vanishing of the fourth wall between fandom and the mainstream as well as the creators of media that fandom enjoys, and a growing inability to accept the story you're being told on its own terms (and go happily and exclusively to fandom to remedy the urge for something more). because, really, what paratext offers is a sense of legitimacy -- usually when it conveniently upholds what you privately wanted in the first place. if the show you love isn't giving you enough to substantiate your ship, you can get your fix through an actor's interviews, their exposure to fanfiction and fan art, and their perceived approval of the ship. their opinion, by virtue of their literal proximity to the show, legitimizes your own. if the movie you love doesn't do enough with a character you find interesting, a scrapped plan for what the character might've done or a deleted scene might do the same. etc etc.
And while I think it's fine to find the perspectives of actors and showrunners interesting, I do think you get into messy waters when you consider these things just as legitimate as what makes it onto the page or screen -- because, factually, that just isn't true. and if you step outside of fan spaces, you often see this disconnect: i'm sure we have all had the experience of talking to a friend, a parent, or a coworker who "isn't online" and is completely flabbergasted by fandom discourse or simply never would've come up with a popular fanon interpretation or critique if you'd given them a hundred years. because casual viewership (which is almost by definition never going to seek out actor interviews, articles, social media stories, and what an actor likes or doesnt like on instagram) is receiving only the text: the story that, by virtue of the many forces that constrain, edit, and transform the myriad intentions of every person involved in the project, finally and actually made it to the screen. and i dunno, i wonder sometimes if there's something to envy in that.
