Sad Future: Reel Celebrity Over Real Story
The Place: Mojave Desert
The Time: the not-too-distant future
I'm entering this report via wrist-recorder, for
direct transmit to Ops, in case I don't make it back. I've been alone
in the desert for two weeks now, nearing the end of my Tube-O-Rations,
and it's only this morning that I finally made contact with the subject.
He lives alone in a cave below a jagged overhang,
which provides some shade, as well as excellent view-screen reception.
I have this on the subject's own authority, as he related to me with some
excitement his favorite plays of last night's Lakers game from Jack Nicholson
Stadium.
The subject--named Harry, or Barry, or something--invited
me to stay for dinner. He said he'd just "cooked" something, which
must explain the unusual smells emanating from what he called the "kitchen."
Given his advanced age, I humored him whenever possible.
The most salient fact to report, in my judgment,
is that he confessed immediately to being a "writer." (I had him
spell the word for me, just to make sure I was quoting him accurately.)
He says he used to write "stories," which were something that apparently
existed before the End of Western Civilization.
(I must digress: The only heated exhange between
the two of us involved that age-old debate as to when exactly the End of
Western Civilization occurred. I reminded him that most historians
place it at the moment the Fox network broadcast "Who Wants to Marry a
Multi-Millionaire?," but I did admit that a number of prominent scholars
disagree. Some insist it was the first week's episodes of "Survivor,"
while others maintain that the interactive series "Big Brother" is a far
likelier candidate. Regis Philbin's two terms in office as president
also get a mention from academics, though Oprah's elevation to sainthood
by Pope Sinead O'Connor has its vocal supporters as well. Needless
to say, Harry--or Barry--and I never did resolve our argument on this subject.)
The point is, regardless of when it officially
occurred, the End of Western Civilization also marked the beginning of
the end of something called "storytelling," as practiced by men and women
called "writers." As I understand it, these "stories" were about
fictional people called "characters," and, depending upon the skill and
imagination of the writer, what happened to these characters was experienced
as moving, funny, entertaining and/or enlightening by the audience.
(Harry mentioned something about "readers," involving
the "printed word" and "books," but I didn't pursue it. This mythological
material has been overly analyzed by the Post-Literates, and lies outside
the guidelines of this report.)
To embody these stories for the screen, the creators
of these projects hired "actors," people who literally portrayed imaginary
people for money! Of course, today such delusional activity would
warrant two months in a Jenny Craig Reprogramming Spa. But Harry
insists these "actors," speaking the words prepared for them by the above-mentioned
"writers," were actually cherished by the audience, and that the characters
they portrayed, in these artfully crafted stories were considered relevant
and meaningful.
Again, this must strain credibility to those seeing
this report, since the idea of "entertainment" that does not involve the
voyeuristic and vicarious enjoyment of the activities of histrionic, soul-deadened,
media-spawned Real People in Real Situations must seem bizarre, and certainly
ethically suspect. But the subject, despite his occasional ramblings
about ageism, free rewrites and something called residuals, made a convincing
case for the veracity of his memories. Which is what makes his interview
with me of such lasting historical importance.
As we finished our conversation, Harry confided
in me that he was actually "writing" something at the moment. "The
usual boy-meets-girl thing, but with a nice twist." He raised a crooked
forefinger for emphasis. "Trust me--forget special effects.
You can't go wrong with a nice romantic comedy."
Of course, by now he was speaking total gibberish,
though I've done my best to transcribe the above words as accurately as
I can.
I must say, as I take leave of my subject, that
I'm touched by Harry's quaint notions of the transformative power of art,
and his conviction that storytelling serves an important function in our
human lives. That stories help "explain us to ourselves," in his
words. And that, when done well, they offer solace, perspective,
encouragement and wisdom.
Of course, we know now the audience receives these
same gifts from watching a Real Person eating a Real Rat on a Real Island.
But, like most people from a bygone era, he clings to his memories, and
to the belief that his ways were better. He deserves our pity, not
our scorn.
End transmission.
Reprinted by permission of the L.A.Times,
July 31, 2000, page F-3.
dennis@dennispalumbo.com
