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    Arts

    Subtext: Conversations about Classic Books and Films

    Subtext is a book club podcast for readers interested in what the greatest works of the human imagination say about life’s big questions. Each episode, philosopher Wes Alwan and poet Erin O’Luanaigh conduct a close reading of a text or film and co-write an audio essay about it in real time. It’s literary analysis, but in the best sense: we try not overly stuffy and pedantic, but rather focus on unearthing what’s most compelling about great books and movies, and how it is they can touch our lives in such a significant way.

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    Attachments “Die Hard” at Nakatomi Tower Dec 06, 2021
    Show notes

    It’s a Christmas movie, some say, and in the end the holiday classic “Let it Snow” plays over the credits. But what counts as snow in the final scenes is a confetti of smoke, debris, and millions of dollars of bearer bonds, not to mention the Euro-villain who tried to steal them. These descend from the blasted-out upper floor of a skyscraper onto a scene of total destruction. Worse, it all happens in Los Angeles. Is “Die Hard” actually a Christmas movie? And what is a Christmas movie, anyway? Wes & Erin try to figure out if there’s anything like a yuletide miracle in this story about the violent defense of marriage and family against materialism, globalism, status, and other forces of social dissolution. Thanks to our sponsor for this episode, NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts. Aspiring filmmakers and screenwriters can learn more about their online courses at tischpro.smashcut.com/subtext. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Thanks to Nick Ketter for the audio editing on this episode. Transcript 0:13 Wes: It's a Christmas movie, some say. And in the end, the holiday classic Let It Snow plays over the credits. But what counts as snow in the final scenes is a confetti of smoke, debris and millions of dollars of bearer bonds. Not to mention the Eurovillain who tried to steal them. These descend from the blasted out upper floor of a skyscraper onto a scene of total destruction. Worse, it all happens in Los Angeles. Is Die Hard actually a Christmas movie? And what is a Christmas movie anyway? On today's episode, we try to figure out if there's anything like a yuletide miracle in this story about the violent defense of marriage and family against materialism, globalism, status and other forces of social dissolution. This is Wes Alwan. 1:02 Erin: And this is Erin O'Luanaigh. 1:03 Wes: And you're listening to Subtext. So, Erin, I think we should resolve this question once and for all. Is Die Hard a Christmas movie? 1:17 Erin: Okay. Well, I have this long standing discussion with family members over what constitutes a Christmas movie. Because they get very upset when I say that the Fellowship of the Ring is a Christmas movie. 1:28 Wes: That's upsetting to me as well. 1:30 Erin: Yeah. So I have two standards for this. There has to be an epic struggle between good and evil, and there must be snow. Now, LA doesn't have any snow. However, it does end with the song Let It Snow. So technically the word snow is in the film. So I would call this a Christmas movie. 1:50 Wes: Well, okay, good wins on a technicality. So, yeah, there is kind of stuff raining down from the sky. There's like shredded bearer bonds. So those are the bonds that Hans Gruber and his friends were after. And that one of the climactic moments of the movie. They're celebrating after getting into the vault and handling all those bonds to, well, Ode to Joy, which has been the theme of the movie all along. But it reaches its climactic moment. That's what's coming down. That's the snow is the destroyed dreams of a classically educated young German men. You know, also at the end, just the scene of all the wreckage and people cleaning up as John McClane and Holly ride off into the. Not the sunset, but whatever you want to call it. Right off into the night to the 2:42 Erin: back of Argyle's limo. He's like kind of the best character. 2:45 Wes: Maybe there's a lot of good ones. He is a great one. 2:48 Erin: I forgot about him. So I have a terrible confession, which is, until last night, I don't think I have ever seen this movie from beginning to End uninterrupted. It's the kind of thing that like plays at my parents house every Christmas to varying levels of interest from me where I'll go in and out. I hate the part where they kill Mr. Takagi. So I would never watch that. This time I had to watch it. I still kind of walked away. So I guess I've still never really seen the full film. But yeah, so it was interesting to finally see it from beginning to end and to sort of tweeze out like, oh, the plane thing must be Die Hard too, because I'm remembering them as like one big film. 3:26 Wes: Yeah. That's unfortunate. 3:28 Erin: Where's Samuel L. Jackson? 3:30 Wes: The fact that they turned this into a franchise is. Yeah. Unfortunate. And that there's any confusion between the movies. Yeah, this is a work of art. And the rest of it is just an attempt to exploit that for money. 3:41 Erin: Yeah. So you really think that this is the best Christmas movie of all time? 3:45 Wes: I do. 3:46 Erin: Okay, interesting. 3:50 Wes: So I originally saw this when I was 17, on my birthday, right after it had come out on vhs. This is like one of the few memories from my high school years that is not completely repressed. 4:02 Erin: Oh, my God. 4:02 Wes: Being in my sister's apartment watching Die Hard and thinking and really enjoying it. But I really thought nothing of the movie until I watched it a few years ago. I mean, I had to have seen it again since I was 17, but I have no memory. That might have been the first time I'd seen it since I was a kid. And I thought, wow, this is really actually a very good movie. Which I had never thought of it that way. I just thought it was a great action film. But I thought it was, you know, the script was good and thematically it was really interesting and a lot of great acting. Including especially Alan Rickman. Yes, especially Alan Rickman. I'm just assuming what he did with that character right after being plucked off the stage. Right. I don't even think he had film career aspirations. He went straight from doing Shakespeare. Right. To being a great villain in this 4:46 Erin: movie, though not his best villain performance, I think. What is his best that would be when he cheated on Emma Thompson in Love, actually. That really broke my heart. But anyway, this is a close second. 4:57 Wes: Which movie did we watch together? Not love, actually, but Notting Hill. Yeah, Notting Hill. 5:02 Erin: Okay. 5:02 Wes: I was trying to think, was he in there? Was he in Notting Hill? No. I was impressed. I became excited about the movie. Maybe it was a couple years ago when I saw it again and I don't know That I can defend the idea that it's the greatest Christmas movie ever. So your criteria are life and death, struggle and snow. Those were the two. 5:22 Erin: An epic battle or struggle between good and evil. 5:26 Wes: Oh, sorry. I put down life and death. That's weird. Epic battle between good and evil. Good and evil. 5:31 Erin: Oh, and good has to win. But that goes without saying for a Hollywood movie. 5:35 Wes: Yeah. In your opinion, what are the best Christmas movies? 5:39 Erin: So I should say that I came up with these two criteria many years ago. When pressed, I just said them. And my family has been quoting that back at me for many years now. So I don't know how serious it is. It's sort of solidified. But I would say that the best Christmas. There's only one It's a Wonderful Life. 5:58 Wes: I knew you were going to say that. Yeah. 6:00 Erin: You can't. It's the law. You can't acknowledge any other film. 6:05 Wes: An angel gets their wings. Every time someone says, that's the best Christmas movie. 6:09 Erin: That's right. Every time someone says, die Hard is the best Christmas movie, Bruce Willis sends them a free wife beater. I gotta say that I thought the script was really good. But the funniest parts of the film, for me, the unintentionally hilarious parts, were when Bruce Willis was saying to himself, think, think. 6:27 Wes: What scene is that where he says that? 6:29 Erin: It happens a couple times when he's sort of. Right before he goes into the elevator shaft. The third or fourth time. He's always in the elevator shaft. Poor guy. 6:38 Wes: Yeah. He has the unfortunate. He's in the. And he said, this was hard. Bruce Williston. But he's in the unfortunate position of having to act by himself. Very few interactions between himself and others. So it is really interesting to. Cause he does a lot of talking to himself, right? 6:52 Erin: Yeah. 6:52 Wes: Think, shit, Everything's gonna be fine. Stay calm. 6:55 Erin: Well, I think for the most part, it's pretty believable. But I was thinking about the function of Reginald VelJohnson's character. I don't know. It gave some interesting ideas about maybe what's at work in the film. Reginald VelJohnson is like a favorite for me. Love Family Matters and him in Family Matters. So this was fun to see again. He's great. 7:15 Wes: Yeah. I think it's interesting because the relationship between John McClane and Powell. That relationship is really important. What McClane represents is not just sort of the individualistic cowboy against. There are so many antagonists in this film, it would take a long time to list them. A lot of them involve oppressive social and cultural Forces oppressive in the sense that they work to the detriment of marital fidelity or marital cohesion or the social fabric. All those good old fashioned values that sort of get associated in this movie with Christmas. And so that's the sense in which it can be said to be a Christmas movie and not just set, you know, during Christmas. Right. During this weirdly contradictory idea of Christmas in la, as opposed to Christmas in New York. Right. In New York, Christmas is Christmas in la. What is it? Something very bastardized. Yeah, Very unnatural. 8:07 Erin: Something that becomes a Christmas movie on a technicality rather than real snow. 8:11 Wes: Yeah, exactly. Not just because California is warm and western, but because it's. And snowless, but because as it's made out in the movie, it represents kind of oddness or a set of values and conflict with like New York grittiness and practicality. So that's where I think the relationship with, you know, as you point out with Officer Powell is really important because it highlights the fact that what he represents is more of a family man kind of person who has heart and bonds with other males. You might see him as a representative of just machismo and masculine violence and all that stuff vindicating itself against the forces of civilization. I don't know what you would say, 8:55 Erin: but for Bruce Willis character. 8:56 Wes: Yeah, yeah. But he himself will say, you know, at a certain point, you macho bastards, as they're trying to. They're trying to send the armored vehicle up the steps. Right. So he's more than the representative of individuality and being a cowboy and vigilantism and things like that that Hans Gruber would want to make him out to be. He has something to do with these very large set of associated values that involve class and Christmas and family and, you know, like working class, I mean, and so on and so forth. 9:26 Erin: For me, this movie became a movie about partnership. You know, when the image of the cowboy is invoked. Hans Gruber, who says, like, you're not gonna ride off with Grace Kelly into the sunset or something like that, or walk off into the sunset with Grace Kelly. And then they have that thing about. That was Gary Cooper. It's not the lone cowboy, even in Hans Gruber's estimation. And I was thinking about that and how everyone. There's just a tremendous amount of duality in the. Seems to have a pair. So obviously, like there's the broken partnership of the marriage at the center of the film. There's the idea of partnership in police work, you know, where you typically have a partner. There's the idea of Those two brothers, the two German brothers that, you know, the Germans seem to come in pairs, except for Hans Gruber. And gosh, like, there were just so many instances of it. I mean, he has. So he has two kids, right? A girl and a boy. The two FBI officers that come in, Agent Johnson and Special Agent Johnson. And I love how they're like, one's black, one's white, and they have to explain to people that they're not related. 10:31 Wes: Yeah. 10:31 Erin: The intrusion of the film crew is really interesting because I think that is also making, obviously, commentary on la. And I don't know that it fully works because I don't think it's really fleshed out all the way, the media intrusion, the TV coverage. But I do really love that moment where they have that expert on TV who has written a book called Hostage Terrorist, Terrorist Hostage or something like that. 10:55 Wes: Yeah. Helsinki Syndrome instead of Stockholm Syndrome. 10:58 Erin: Right. But that duality, you know, Hostage, Terrorist. I think that scene is followed by. I think it's between. Or maybe it's followed by these two things in quick succession. When Johnson and Johnson show up and when Hans Gruber pretends to be a hostage. So he's like his own sort of dual figure, maybe of criminal and cultured. Aesthete. I don't have anything to say about that, except that I found it interesting. And it must be making some sort of commentary on the necessity of relationships, the way of healing the broken marriage at the center of this or something. So I didn't see it so much as John McClane's rugged individualism. Even though he is fighting a lot of bad guys and a lot of incompetent people. That he does have this relationship of dependence. And the partnership that he's in in his marriage also can't be found out, which is another angle on that. 11:54 Wes: Yeah, I think it's all about the importance of relationships. In the beginning. It's about. It could be a mundane story about a couple who's having problems because of certain social changes, women in the workforce. And now there's dual careers and there's geographic dislocation. So you take that very fundamental story, which could have just been told straight, right. And you graft an action movie onto that. That's thematically really powerful, actually. You get the strong connection between the danger of the loss of his relationship with his wife and lots of other dangers. Spiritual, psychological, physical, societal, individual. Like I said, there's a long list of antagonists in the movie, like network. Our last discussion. You know, the film is not shy about adding Those up throwing more on the bonfire. So it even starts out like Sexual Temptation is one of those antagonists or it's one of the villains in the film. And it's, I think, artfully done. Right. So one of the very first things that happens in the movie when he's getting off the plane and he's at the baggage section is he sees a young girl jump into her boyfriend's arms. And he basically looks at her ass and there's the pinup girl. Later on, he gets distracted by this topless pinup girl in the building. And there's kind of a flirtat. Actually, there's kind of a flirtation between him and a stewardess on the plane. And so this is one of many threats to marital fidelity. And then I've mentioned things like the dual careers. But you also get materialism with the Rolex watch. You get Ellis, the finance brogue. Multinational corporations, globalization, technology, right. As soon as he shows up to. Well, even his fear of flying is kind of works into that. But he shows up for the office party initially, and he's trying to find Holly by her last name, his last name, McClane. And there's the disapp…

    Full show notes at the publisher

    Mad as Hell in “Network” (1976) Nov 22, 2021
    Show notes

    Diana Christensen is a television executive in search of an angry show—something that articulates the rage of the average viewer. In Howard Beale, failed newscaster turned mad-as-hell prophet, she seems to get exactly what she’s looking for. Yet in doing so, she reduces political and social discontent to a form of entertainment focused on generating audience excitement and television ratings. Wes & Erin discuss the 1976 film Network, which seems to suggest that with the advent of mass media, acts of anti-establishment defiance tend to be incorporated by the systems they oppose. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Thanks to Nick Ketter for the audio editing on this episode. Transcript 0:13 Erin: Diana Christensen is a television executive in search of an angry show, something that articulates the rage of the average viewer in Howard Beale, failed newscaster turned mad as hell Prophet. She seems to get exactly what she's looking for, but in doing so, she reduces political and social discontent to a form of entertainment focused on generating audience excitement and television ratings. On today's episode, we're discussing the 1976 film Network, which seems to suggest that with the advent of mass media, acts of anti establishment defiance tend to be incorporated by the systems they oppose. This is Erin O'Luanaigh. And this is Wes Alwan, and you're listening to Subtext. 0:58 Wes: So, Erin, I've seen Network a few times, but I've never tried to figure it out entirely, never tried to put all of it together because there's so much in the movie. And I was thinking about this sort of typical gloss on the film, which is that it's a critique of news as entertainment and that it's commonly thought of as prescient. So Fox News or other very politicized news networks, or reality TV or daytime talk shows like Jerry Springer. So it's often thought of as very prescient in that regard. But when I watched the movie, it took me some time to figure out what it is I thought was actually being satirized. Right. Is it the news industry? Is it the audiences? Is it rapaciousness of certain executives in seeking ratings? Is it multinational corporations? Is it the very idea of protest? Is it counterculture itself? That's the subject of satire. It's not very clear. And then when I, doing a little background reading, Paddy Chayefsky, the screenwriter himself, was worried about what he called the lack of satirical clarity in the movie. And that's in part because he tries to fit so much into the movie, but part because I think there's this kind of fractal quality to it where. And this is kind of Paddy Chayefsky's character, where there's one critique and then there's a critique of the critique. And that just never ends. It keeps going down the rabbit hole of self critique. But anyway, I thought I'd start out by. By just asking, what is this movie about? What is it actually satirizing? 2:46 Erin: Yeah, that's a good question. I think that what I was struck by this time around is this idea of the audience as being refracted, which is part and parcel of television, but the only time we really see them is in the live studio audience setting. And Especially, of course, in the famous ending scene, which I always forget actually happens. And then I'm always surprised. 3:10 Wes: I totally forgot about that as well. 3:12 Erin: Yeah. Like, why is that somehow the least memorable part of this? The least memorable, famous part of this movie? 3:18 Wes: It's the most surreal. 3:19 Erin: Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. And I guess compared to other stuff, it's not that shocking. I think it's probably the audience. And I think that this film is a little bit cruel, maybe toward the audience because they're like the missing element, you know, despite the fact that they're brought into the studios. That's really an aberration, Right. To have a live studio audience for a news show and they're referred to. I like the word you use, like fractally. I think I'll steal it and say that the audience is referred to fractally or conceptually, in terms of shares, in terms of ratings. And we see the effect that the show has on them or the success that it's having with the public only through these kinds of inside baseball expressions which are used from the very beginning, from the very opening narration in which we're sort of expected to be familiar with the parlance of network TV executives. I mean, it's presenting this film to us as something that we will enjoy or recognize. And therefore, it's sort of talking up to us. But then there's this vague figure of, you know, the American TV watcher who is being talked down to. And I think part of that is maybe the snobbery of film versus TV inherent in a movie about this problem. Right. If it's a film criticizing tv, then it's okay, you know, you've made the right choice by buying your ticket and going to see this rather than staying at home and watching whatever was popular in 1975 MASH. I don't know. 4:57 Wes: How is it that we are not the ones, right, chanting I'm mad as hell in the studio audience. Although it would be different, right, if we were watching network in some way, we identify with this critique. And if we suspect as a satire that there's an angry critique there and that we're rah, rah, rah about it, then we fall into that same trap as Howard Beale's audience. Right. I think some people who might know little about the film and know if they know anything, it would be that mad as hell line. Mad as hell. And I'm not gonna take it anymore. Iconic scene of people going to their windows and going out and screaming that out into the night air. Which seems like a moment of Triumph seems like a moment of real rebellion and authenticity, but of course turns out to be bullshit. So similarly, I think we have to be uneasy as an audience of the film and we have to wonder if the screenwriter isn't actually angry at us and if. If we aren't actually being ridiculed even. Even for our engagement with this very film. I had always loved the film and I love Paddy Chayefsky and I love especially the Hospital with George C. Scott. And what attracts me about Chayefsky is his long dramatic speeches that he gives to the characters. And he gives them. He gives those speeches to them pretty indiscriminately, right? Everyone gets to be a mad prophet at some point, whether it's the executive, Frank Hackett or Beal or Max, which you might think of that as a flaw of characterization to give everyone those sorts of speeches. But also it gives it a more dramatic play like quality. And the speeches are exciting and they're suited to satire. So I always love that. But it's a little bit skewed because now when I view these movies, I'm preparing to comment on them and I'm taking notes and I think it takes me out of the more immediate enjoyment unless I do two viewings, you know, one where I try not to think at all about the fact that we're going to record. And then the second one where I do notes. The second time it felt less dramatically compelling to me because of the kind of high level abstraction of the satire. And it becomes increasingly surreal. You mentioned that ending. It gets progressively more surreal as the film goes on, despite the introduction of a romantic subplot and the breakup with the wife and all that. But, you know, this attempt to introduce some humanity. But overall, you know, I still found myself very interested in this recursive or fractal critique of. Critique of critique. Especially with the way in which some attempt at authenticity gets just co. Opted. Every attempt to sort of break out of the inauthentic position gets co opted. So for instance, Beale's had enough and he's been left childish. Widower with a 12 rating and an 8 share shares. That's the word is a line I love because the way it combines real personal tragedy with the overarching question of ratings, you know, the artificial outside of life tragedy of ratings. So he's had enough and it's all bullshit and he takes his stand and threatens suicide. And it's an exciting moment where it seems like something authentic has broken out, but ultimately it's something that excites Diana, the ruthless executive, is interested only in ratings. And yet is excited by counterculture. Is excited by this group of terrorists and their antics. Not because she agrees with their politics, but just because she's excited by the chance to make what she calls angry shows. To do something that will articulate the rage of the public. Give the public an outlet for its rage. Many people today would think of that as a legitimate activity. To give people who are fed up with the status quo. Or fed up with certain systemic injustices, whatever you want to call it, an opportunity to vent that rage. And to do it through news programs, to do it through entertainment. So she co opts, she takes Beale's show and turns it into a ridiculous carnival, right? And she does the same thing with the terrorists. You know, there's the great scene where they're negotiating the TV contract. The terrorists somehow become more interested in TV than they do in their own violent revolutionary activity. That co opting effect is something that really interested me in this. 9:27 Erin: To go back to a couple of things you said. I don't know that the question of Beale's ratings is so outside the personal. One of the main reasons that there is a hierarchy set up here with film over TV is because film is not subject to the slings and arrows of television viewership. And a lot of TV lives and dies by identification with particular personalities. And sort of like an immediate gut response to someone, you know. At a movie theater you have something that's been distilled through a group of people who are trying to anticipate what they think, their audiences or. And of that audience, you know, who they think is going to like this particular film. It is a business and it is geared towards people. But it takes at this time six months to a year to put something together and then to package it for distribution. And it's advertised. Movie theaters sell concessions and they want to sell tickets. But there is a very, very big delay. And I think that that is part of what, you know, Chayefsky, by simply by choosing film as the medium for his message. Though he did do a lot of teleplays and stuff like that is making a kind of commentary. And I think his experience in teleplays is reason enough for him to know what he's talking about. The chosen medium of this story is very much, I think, establishing this kind of hierarchy and saying television is subject to little teeny tiny changes in people's opinion of you personally. Right as the talking head in the middle of the screen. And so I think that Howard, very Rightfully takes it personally. It is personal, I think. But I'd say, like, in general, you know, what you love about the film is what annoyed me this time. You know, I've often said, I think in this podcast before, that I really don't like issue films. You know, that is films of explicit and self consciousness, social commentary. I've enjoyed Network in the past and that's not like a blanket rule. But the speeches this time got very tiresome to me. It was like, oh, God, you know, we haven't even gotten to the Ned Beatty speech yet. There's a sense of like, okay, everybody has to have their little moment, which. And it just was so loud and so histrionic. And I don't mean to be down on it because I think it's very well written and I love Chayefsky, I love Marty and I love the catered affair. And my grandfather knew Paddy Chayefsky, they went to school together. So I like him. But this has aged to me in a way, weirdly. I think that the subject matter is as timely as ever and I think it's beautifully written in a lot of ways. But I think that the presentation of it and the sort of grandstanding of it and even absurd things like Peter Finch's accent sort of coming in and 12:19 Wes: out, really, I didn't notice that. I was so impressed that. But I wasn't looking for it. I didn't learn he was Australian until after I saw it. And I thought, wow. But, yeah, I suppose if you're looking for it, it must come out. 12:30 Erin: Yeah, well, it comes out almost English, I think. 12:33 Wes: I know he does. I looked up in interviews with him, he sounds like posh English with like a hint of Australian. 12:38 Erin: Yeah, he was a real jerk, so. Oh, yeah, yeah. So that just further evidence with a heart attack. 12:46 Wes: Yeah, right. How is he a jerk? 12:49 Erin: So he was just a terrible alcoholic and womanizer and he broke up. She had responsibility for it too, but he broke up Vivien Leigh and Laurence Olivier's marriage during this tour of Australia. That's right. 13:01 Wes: I forgot about that. That's the guy. Okay. Wow. What a guy to leave Laurence Olivier for. 13:08 Erin: If you could see him when he was younger, you would understand it a little better. But I think that the. Yeah, obviously this is silly. I have like, my own personal likes and dislikes. I like his performance in this movie. But, yeah, personally not a fan of him. But anyway, so I just. This time that really bothered me. It seemed like it was moving constantly from one high octane moment to the next. And I'm sure that's, you know, that's the point. That's the structure, that's the invocation of television that's happening in the film. But I started to get exhausted with the whole thing and I didn't have much patience for it this time around. 13:45 Wes: Yeah, you were saying that you liked Finch's performance. I do as well. The way he captures Beale's disorganized madness is very cool. The facial expressions. So that's very good. And that character is very good. You were talking about the self conscious social commentary in the, in the film and the sort of tiring speeches. And I think you're right. I don't think it can ever really escape that accusation in a way that it's engaged in the kind of moralizing that it seems to critique. And perhaps that's a, you know, that may be a problem for comedy and for satire in general. There's an anti moralistic strain in comedy, but it goes back to this whole co opting problem that I was talking about. So it wants to break out of the frame of moralism, but it's. That's just a kind of metamoralism or it's just a kind of attempt at a higher moralism. And sometimes that attempt can seem almost nihilistic because it's too good for any particular ethical position. It's too good to side with the audience. It's too good to side with the corporations, with the TV executives. It's too good to side with any particular art form, except maybe implicitly film. So there's that aspect to it. But I think I'm more sympathetic to the nihilistic quality of that. So, for instance, when I hear those speeches, I always hear them as being satirized. Every speech puts the character in a position of being absurd and silly. 15:19 Erin: Well, the Beatty one is most obviously a parody of Beale's particular evangelical style. Right. 15:25 Wes: Yeah. And Beatty is, you know, he start…

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    Autonomy and Incest in Sophocles’s “Oedipus Rex” Nov 08, 2021
    Show notes

    His first claim to fame was the solution to a riddle that earned him a kingdom by sheer force of intellect. His second was a doomed attempt to escape the particularly gruesome fates of patricide and incest. With his first act, Oedipus saved the city of Thebes from the sphinx; with his second, he afflicted it with a plague. In his retelling of this myth, Sophocles reflects on the competing claims of three paths to knowledge: reason, revelation, and experience. Why can’t Oedipus’s brilliant mind save him from the enactment of a prophecy? Why might we be most vulnerable to the fate we’re most determined to avoid? Can we truly be free, or are our attempts to transcend the limitations of character central to its pathologies? Wes & Erin discuss Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Thanks to Nick Ketter for the audio editing on this episode. Transcript 0:12 Wes: His first claim to fame was the solution to a riddle that earned him a kingdom by sheer force of intellect. His second was a doomed attempt to escape the particularly gruesome fates of patricide and incest. With his first act, Oedipus saved the city of Thebes from the sphinx. With his second, he afflicted it with plague. In his retelling of this myth, Sophocles reflects on the competing claims of three paths to reason, revelation, and experience. Why can't Oedipus brilliant mind save him from the enactment of a prophecy? Why might we be most vulnerable to the fate we're most determined to avoid? Can we truly be free? Or are our attempts to escape the limitations of character are central to its pathologies? Today we're talking about Oedipus Rex. This is Wes Alwan. 1:02 Erin: And this is Erin O'Luanaigh, and you're listening to Subtext. So, Wes, since there's an investigation afoot about, you know, the origins of COVID 19, and there are all these theories floating around about what the origins of the virus are. Did it come from a bat or a pangolin? This whole lab leak theory. I just want to float another possibility. I mean, how likely do you think it is that. I don't know, maybe the mayor of Wuhan doesn't know who his real parents are and he's made a huge mistake? I'm just saying, you know. 1:36 Wes: Yeah. Is it the mayor of Wuhan or is there a president of the world? I guess not, since the whole world has been plagued. 1:44 Erin: Thebes is most of the known world at that point. Right. But anyway, yeah, I'm just saying somebody should look into that. 1:50 Wes: I think the idea that we're being punished is a promising idea. Punished by the gods. What are we being punished for? 1:58 Erin: The Internet, podcasts? 2:01 Wes: Well, I think there's something to that. 2:03 Erin: YouTube, trolls. I don't know. 2:05 Wes: I think technology is part of the story. 2:07 Erin: You're already getting into an interesting area there, because I was thinking that just Oedipus was being punished, but you're suggesting the whole world is, or all of Thebes anyway, is being punished for. I guess it's being punished for housing incestual Patricider. 2:23 Wes: Are they just collateral damage or are they actually being punished to the extent that I think the punishment is generalized is just the extent to which I read it as a kind of Prometheus myth. Because here is Oedipus, this very clever guy who has come along and solved this riddle and he's done it. A lot is made of the fact that he's done it without learning. There's some question of whether he's done it with help from the gods or without help from the gods. That's sort of conflict in the text. There's a lot in the text that gives you the idea that he. It's his intelligence and his riddle solving ability that are the problem and the things that threaten to arrogate the position of the gods in a way. I read the crisis, the crisis in Thebes is created by Oedipus solving of the riddle. The minute he solves the riddle, something has actually gone awry. Of course, you know, literally we have to attribute all of this to ultimately to incest and these things are actually related. But psychologically, the most immediate precursor of the plague and all these problems is Oedipus's cleverness. His ability to simply, almost like a mathematician or a logician, to solve this problem in a world in which this problem should be solved or is more typically solved by appeals to revelation, to prophecy, to some sort of supplication to the gods, or appeals to the authority of tradition, to experience. But the solving of the riddle in a way is like an a priori exercise or an exercise in semantics or something very similar to math. Yeah, that's my kind of Promethean reading of all of this. 4:10 Erin: So I think that that is a really good observation. However, it makes me think of the fact that this prophecy about Oedipus sort of predates Oedipus himself. Right? Like Laios is told that if he has a son, that the son will. Like he tries not to have a son with Jocasta. Is that right? I don't remember fully the whole pre play longer myth. 4:31 Wes: So we just got confused about. Or I just got confused about whether it's Jocasta or Yocasta or Yocasta. Because, Erin, you've always heard it. Yocasta. I've always heard it. Jocasta. 4:42 Erin: Right. 4:43 Wes: And your pronunciation is what it is in the actual ancient Greek. And I guess the way I've heard it is the Anglicization. Is that how you say it? 4:53 Erin: Yeah, the Anglicized version. 4:56 Wes: Yeah, the Anglicized version. So I guess we decided just to go with that. 5:01 Erin: Okay, so forgive me if I don't consistently say Jocasta. I'll try to. 5:04 Wes: Well, just say okay, then we'll go both ways. 5:07 Erin: Okay. Yeah. So you're highlighting, I think, what's a really interesting tension in the text because it does seem as though his riddle busting is the source of a lot of the problems. And yet at the same time, laios has this prophecy before oedipus is even conceived that if he does conceive a son, his child will kill him and marry his mother. I think that's the way the myth goes. Obviously Oedipus, from what I understand, was, you know, Sophocles version was based on this myth that everybody would have been common knowledge for everyone in Greece that had a very long history. 5:42 Wes: And I don't think there's too much variation in the way the myth was told as well. 5:47 Erin: I know that there's a slight difference as far as the actual origin of the curse that laios might have been involved in, or he might have sinned against the Greek values of hospitality, or he might have just conceived oedipus when he shouldn't have or when he was told not to. There's some variation about the precise origin of why this curse falls upon them. But what you're also making me think of is another really big tension in the text that bothers me, which is, is fate different from the gods? And what role do the gods have in fate? It's my understanding that they're actually two different forces in a way. Right. Because the gods can be moved by sacrifice, supplication, but fate can't be changed. Destiny can't be changed. 6:36 Wes: You know, it's that whole euthyphro dilemma named after the platonic dialogue, in which is something pious because it's loved by the gods, or is it loved by the gods because it's pious? Or in early modern philosophical tradition, is the moral law just something that is the whimsical dictate of God, or is the moral law. The moral law, and everyone is subject to it, including God. So, yeah, I think it speaks to that sort of problem, this relationship between fatedness and the gods who can be moved. Are the gods in some sense subject to fate? And this is a. I think a play in which the rumination. There's a lot of rumination by the chorus. It's a play about religious doubt. I think the chorus gets very worried about whether or not. So maybe we can look at one of those passages. 7:29 Erin: Sure. 7:30 Wes: And by the way, I think. I think the best parts of this play are in the chorus, actually. Even though when I was younger and I read it, it's just like, get me to the plot. I just can't this chorus fluff get me beyond the chorus fluff Now. I even felt some of that on this rereading. But when I actually started to analyze what's going on with the chorus, I'm like, wow, this is quite amazing. So let's go to 463 to 512. And by the way, so I'm using the David Grene translation and you're using the Fitzgerald. 8:02 Erin: Yes. 8:03 Wes: Fitzgerald is very known for his poetic style. And actually I favored him when I was younger. Like, I memorized parts of the Iliad and the Odyssey, and I would always use the Fitzgerald because the alternative was the Lattimore, which is very dry but more literal. I spent way too many hours looking at all kinds of different translations and trying to decide do I want the poetic and tolerate the anxiety of knowing that Fitzgerald has thrown in a word that just isn't there in the ancient Greek, or am I just going to go for the dry literal? And I went for the dry literal. But you have the other side of things, so we can compare those, which I think is a good thing. And actually, Grene is not that bad. He's not all that dry. 8:47 Erin: No, I find the idiom to be really dated. 8:51 Wes: Yeah, yeah, it's a trade off. If you look at the ancient Greek, there are so many difficult decisions to make. You know, if you try to be faithful, you are just driven in the direction of syntactical clumsiness and dryness and things sounding very dated. It's really hard to avoid. Like, if I were translating this, you know, just. Just even the beginning children, young sons and daughters of old Cadmus, I'd be awfully tempted to do a very loose translation and get rid of any reference to Cadmus, which some translators actually do, to make sure that any of the outdated references that would have been meaningful for ancient Greeks but are not meaningful for us, I'd be tempted to replace them with something that had some actual import for us, because that drives the emotional power of the play. And for us, it just. It works against it. It's rooted in ancient Greek mythology, which is something that does not have the same deep emotional significance for us as it would for them. 9:51 Erin: Yeah, I think that any great text needs to be retranslated for each generation. And I think that the self consciously high syntax that he's using, I believe that the Fitzgerald is actually older than the Grene, or they're roughly the same age. But I just think that the Fitzgerald, much less self consciously produces a very beautiful text. And I allow a lot of liberty in translation. Things don't bother me ultimately, because you're not just reproducing perfectly exactly what's in the Greek, you have to create something that's beautiful in its own right. So I tend not to be bothered by those types of smaller changes, which is a liberty that I have for not knowing Ancient Greek at all. So I'm not bothered by it, as 10:33 Wes: you'll find out, for certain things, I like to know what's there in the Ancient Greek just because it drives the interpretation. It tells you what the playwright is doing. So, for instance, in the Grene translation, this fourth and fifth lines, the town is heavy with a mingled burden of sounds and smells, of groans and hymns and incense. Okay, so this is a difficult translation problem, because what Sophocles is doing in this is he's saying that different sensory modalities are actually woven together. So in the Ancient Greek, it's clear that he's doing something very interesting. He's telling us that sounds and smells somehow have interpolated each other, which is very important in a play that. Where incest features. Right. Because incest is about a breakdown in boundaries between things that should be bounded and separated. So that's the way Grene gets at it. Other translators, sometimes they just abandon the attempt to try to get at that interweaving of different sensory modalities. So Fitzgerald, for instance, the breath of incense, rises from the city with a sound of prayer and lamentation. He hasn't abandoned that task, but he's been a little more subtle about it. So the with is meant to give you a sense of this connection between the smell and the sound, almost as if the sound is coming from the smell. So that's just one example of the type of things I think about when looking at translations, but I've never been able to come down on one side or another. So when I was in school doing the Aeneid, in Latin class, I'd have one poetic translation and one literal translation, and then the Latin, and of course the Latin. I was practically hopeless, right? And I'm still hopeless now. Like reading Oedipus and referring somewhat back to the Ancient Greek, I'm like, I'm going to translate this for myself. I can do it. I just need a dictionary and five minutes. And I'm like, yeah, it's not possible. But, yeah, I was hopeless in Latin class. So we did our translations while referring back to these other translations. And I had always had to have one poetic and one literal next to me at all times. 12:52 Erin: Six years of Latin, baby. 12:54 Wes: You did six years? Yep, I did four years, yeah. 12:58 Erin: Oh, so you probably know as much as I do. 13:01 Wes: Yeah. I taught Latin at a community college at one point, but. 13:04 Erin: Oh, then what are you talking about? 13:06 Wes: No, I'm not. I'm not proficient. Last night I was looking up, is there a way for me to become fluent in ancient Greek? Can I go to a place where people are actually speaking it? 13:16 Erin: Oh, my gosh. 13:17 Wes: Do they have any programs where you can just immerse yourself in it and, like, so I can just ramp up quickly, you know, I did two years in undergrad, and then I did a year or two in grad school at the University of Texas would have. Which had, like, I think, the number one classics program in the country. And I got a B in Herodotus because I hated sitting there with a dictionary. And Plato I could do, but Herodotus might as well have been a different language. And then I'm like, this isn't even one language. This is multiple languages. Because the civilization spans, you know, thousands of years, essentially. So, I mean, biblical Greek is not Platonic Greek is not Herodotus's Greek. 13:57 Erin: So my mom made me learn ecclesiastical Latin. Yeah, not that big of a difference, but. Oh, boy. 14:03 Wes: Yeah. Well, it's got to be somewhat easier, right? 14:06 Erin: I don't know. Sure. 14:08 Wes: Yeah, I don't know either. Anyway, so. All right, we got that interlude out of the way. We were talking about religious doubt, which I think is one of the big themes of the play. So if we go to 463 to 512 roughly, for the chorus. So I call this section Prophecy versus Proof. Teiresias and Oedipus have just had a big fight. And Teiresias has told Oedipus that, you know, he's the one who's the murderer. And the chorus now starts to fantasize about the culprit in a sympathetic way. Strophe says he should run. The gods are after him. The antistrophe says, fantasizes sympathetically and says he must be lonely. He's out in the woods, he's running from justice and…

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    Gender Opera in “Tootsie” Oct 25, 2021
    Show notes

    How do you become the many you truly are? Try becoming the woman you aren’t. While Michael Dorsey can take the blame for his desperate transformation into Dorothy Michaels, it’s she who gets the credit for making him a better man. How are gender dynamics reflected in our relationships to ourselves? When are we staying true to ourselves, and when are we just acting out a role for others? Wes & Erin discuss Sydney Pollack’s 1982 film, “Tootsie.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Thanks to Nick Ketter for the audio editing on this episode. Transcript 0:12 Wes: How do you become the man you truly are? Try becoming the woman you aren't. While Michael Dorsey can take the blame for his desperate transformation into Dorothy Michaels, it's she who gets the credit for making him a better man. How are gender dynamics reflected in our relationships to ourselves? When are we staying true to ourselves? And when are we just acting out a role for others? Today we're discussing Sydney Pollack's 1982 film Tootsie. This is Wes Alwan, and this is Erin O'Luanaigh, and you're listening to Subtext. 0:51 Erin: So, Wes, as usual, I have a little bit of Elaine May trivia with Tootsie Today's film. Elaine May was an uncredited script doctor on the movie. And if you had to guess which character she added to the script, which would you say she added? 1:08 Wes: Oh, she added a character. Brewster. Am I wrong? 1:13 Erin: Who's Brewster? Which one's Brewster? 1:16 Wes: Doctor, isn't it? 1:17 Erin: Oh, Dr. Brewster. Yeah, yeah, yeah. 1:19 Wes: No, yeah, right. Played by. I mean, the character's name is Van. 1:24 Erin: Van Horn. Yeah, yeah. 1:25 Wes: Is that right? 1:26 Erin: I think so. I think so. 1:28 Wes: Okay. 1:28 Erin: No, it was not him. 1:30 Wes: Oh, okay. So, all right. I wasn't right then. Okay. 1:33 Erin: It was the Bill Murray character. 1:36 Wes: Interesting. 1:37 Erin: Yeah. The pretentious playwright. But according to some blog that I found, there was an interview with Dustin Hoffman in which he talked about what her contributions were. And what did he say? She came up with my roommate and that the girlfriend has to have a terrible lover and she has to have a kid and a father who falls in love. And she said, I'm telling you right now, you have to have a girl already in your life. And I'm going to write her with Teri Garr in mind. 2:06 Wes: Wow. 2:07 Erin: And she wrote it in three to four weeks, and that was it. So she added a lot to Tootsie. 2:13 Wes: That's amazing. 2:14 Erin: The woman's touch, you might say. 2:16 Wes: So, yeah, it is a great script. I mean, it's a very, very tight script with great dialogue and everything works so well. You know, it's the kind of film that budding screenwriter should study, basically. So what is the Bill Murray character, Jeff? What is he doing in the film? Why add him? 2:36 Erin: That's a really good question. Because I think most people think. Not most people. I think a couple of people have said that he is sort of an outcast in the film. Like he's. Nobody quite knows what he's doing in the film, I think. So he's pretentious, and yet at the same time, like, very accepting of what Michael is doing. Right. He's a little bit of this sort of pretentious director, New York stage kind of caricature on the one hand. And on the other hand, he seems to be sort of the voice for the audience, or almost like the interjection of the audience at certain points. Like, he's able to come in and be like, oh, this is. This is very strange. Or can even interfere in the scene. Like when John Van Horn and Michael are in his apartment and Van Horn is, like, about to force himself on Michael. So there's a witness to everything going on with Michael. And there's a sort of get out of jail free card when things get a little too crazy. What do you think? 3:35 Wes: Yeah, I think all of that's right. I hadn't really given a lot of thought to this when you brought up that Elaine May added him to the script. And I started to think about why that might be. I think he's the only character who really functions as a kind of mentor character in the film for Michael. And he's not much of a mentor character. So he's a foil. He offsets Michael's mania. Michael is quite manic in the beginning of the film. He's a hustler, right? And he's not just a hustler, but he preaches the religion of hustling to his acting class. Really. He preaches two different, contradictory things to his acting students, which is, on the one hand, to always work and sort of maintain some sense of optimism. Even though you're hardly ever going to work. Right. Get on unemployment and on the other hand, be true to yourself. You got to play the part that's in you. If you can't make the part yourself, you can't play it, is one of the things he says. And you also see this mania in the way he hustles with women. He hustles for acting parts, but he's also pretty aggressive with the women in the beginning of the film. To the point where one of the women he's hitting on at his birthday party says, why are you so wired? Just calls him out on it. So Jeff, of course, stands in contrast to that. So this is a very typical kind of Bill Murray character. Because there's a certain level of cynical resignation, in a way, feels like. And he's making funny quips from the sidelines. And the way he's interacting at the party reminds me of kind of his character in Ghostbusters, where he's creating fake telepathy experiments to try and hit on women. In this case, he's using his pretentiousness as a writer saying lots of pretentious things at that party to try and seem formidable to other people. But the most important thing is just what he says to Michael right before the party, which is something like they're having a debate about the necktie in Jeff's screenplay. 5:44 Erin: Yeah, yeah. 5:45 Wes: This classic line necktie is what's wrong with your play. 5:48 Erin: Yeah. 5:48 Wes: And Jeff says, today's your birthday, Michael, and you haven't mentioned it all day. And then Michael says, no, no, no, don't start with that, man. And I think Jeff says, I think you're allergic to it. And Michael says, I'm a character actor. Age has no effect on me. Which is really interesting. Right. Because that stands in contrast to the fact that he's a 40 year old, essentially failed actor who no one wants to work with. Age certainly does have an effect on him from that perspective. And then he asks Jeff, how does one not be depressed? And Jeff says, instead of trying to be Michael Dorsey the great actor, or Michael Dorsey the great waiter, why not just try to be Michael Dorsey? 6:31 Erin: Yeah. 6:32 Wes: And then Michael responds, I am Michael Dorsey. I am Michael Dorsey. I don't know what the payoff is. Well, say it like you mean it. I am Michael Dorsey. Fine. Okay. So. And then there's the surprise party that I see as Jeff's role. You know, he's kind of a Yoda light. Right. He's not a particularly wise person himself, but he, in that moment. Right. He has a little wisdom, at least in contrast to Michael. He sets up a major theme in the movie, which is this question of how one is oneself, becomes oneself ultimately. Right. Michael becomes himself by becoming a woman, that sort of thing. But I don't know, what do you think of that? Am I overstating the whole mentor aspect of this? 7:15 Erin: Well, I think those themes are there from the very beginning in that first great sequence that you mentioned where Michael is giving acting advice and it's juxtaposed with his own failed auditions. I think that you pick up on something there that I didn't even realize, which is that he's giving contradictory advice to his acting students. I was picking up on the fact that he was, of course, disobeying his own advice in his auditions. You know, he would talk about there's this contrast between being oneself, as you mentioned, you know, this advice that he says not to play a part that isn't in you. And it's juxtaposed with footage of him putting on a lot of heavy makeup and trying to hide himself and doing these acting exercises with his students that are designed to get comfortable, to break down your walls, to get to the, you know, sort of the true self. And so there's this sort of hiding versus self revelation. And then there's also this idea, I guess, of, like, authority, right? Because Michael says kind of do whatever the director says and play the script as written. And then he reads really, really unnaturally from a script. He does unnatural reading where he emphasizes, I think, the conjunctions in the sentence. And then he's constantly challenging a director's authority, granted, with some really dumb directorial advice, but also practical advice. If nobody could see him on the side of the stage, then he probably should move over or land somewhere to die earlier so that he doesn't have to then move as he's dying. So I saw that juxtaposition happening very early. And the Bill Murray character as a continuation of that kind of theme. And also, as a guy that's just, in a way, kind of following Michael's own advice because he is himself and he's. I mean, he's pretentious about it. And so that's his little flaw. He's obviously very comfortable with himself in his Bill Murray kind of way. And so it provides this sort of, like, grounding note for Michael's mania, as you point out. 9:13 Wes: So, yeah, the pretentiousness of Jeff, I think the difference is he has that sort of ironic distance to it. In a way, he knows what he's doing. Right. He's not confused about the fact that he's playing a role. At least that's the way it seems to me. In contrast with Michael, who is confused about who he is and is, in a way, playing a role in real life and failing to play it on the stage. So, yeah, you point out that he doesn't do such a great job on the stage. I think, in a way, that's a reflection of his defiance. Right. Use this phrase, hiding versus self revelation, which I think is very good. The film immediately sets you up for that, as you point out, because you get these cuts between him putting on makeup, auditioning and then teaching the acting class. The whole thing with the makeup, it kind of highlights the extent to which he is willing to become someone else, to do anything to get the part right. To really go all out to make himself for another. In a sense, there's almost a desperation in that and a triviality to it. So at one point in one of the auditions, it's Great. It's hilarious dialogue. It's like, I can be anybody. You're the wrong height. We need someone who's different. I can be different. 10:37 Erin: Yeah. 10:38 Wes: So you get this contrast between that level of kind of submissiveness and desperation. And then the. I think that goes along with the. The hiding part. Right. That's the connection you were drawing to the makeup. And then the. And then there's this instinct to self revelation which instead of coming out in making the part truly self revealing in the sense of expressive. Right. Artistically expressive, just comes out in his willingness to get into conflicts with the director or, you know, give his class advice about not merely submitting to the director or to the writer, you know, playing it as themselves, something like that. And that progresses through these intercuts. So he gets more and more. He starts out submissive and then he gets more and more defiant. And it kind of culminates with, you know, I'm not going to walk to the center of the stage while I'm dying. That's stupid. You know, not with me as Tolstoy. So he quits one of the rare jobs, it seems like, that he gets 11:36 Erin: this lack of self awareness. I guess that the acting lessons and his actual acting experiences, the disconnect between those two things, I think shows he's a very shallow actor in a way. I was talking about this just last night with a friend, this idea of motion and stillness in acting. And I was talking about. This is funny. Actually, this is pretty relevant since Michael is so manic. I was talking about the great Italian actress Eleonora Duse. Do you know. Are you familiar with Duse? No one knows her and partially that's by her own design. But anyway, she was a rival to Sarah Bernhardt. So back in the olden days, they represented two very different schools of acting. And Duse, her natural. Naturalness and lack of pretension and lack of sort of, you know, the typical histrionics of the day, the silent movie style acting, even on the stage, you know, where you're doing. Where you're sort of miming and reproducing all of these very large emotions through the body. She didn't do any of that. And she stayed extremely still. And she was noted for this. It's now considered to be her genius was her stillness versus all of this sort of business that typical stage actors of the day and Bernhardt included in that were doing with this showing that they were upset by sort of moving their arms in this histrionic way and sort of like this sort of faux rending of their garments kind of thing. You can imagine this. This sort of miming. And we were talking about still, like what creates that stillness. And it seemed to me that it was like a sense of centeredness and a sense of understanding of oneself. And a contentment in oneself. To just let the scene play and to just stay still and let it do what it has to do. So it's like you can let go. You don't have to be in hyper control of everything. And that the more sort of stable your ego, the more willing you are to cede that power. And yet at the same time, it is a power. It's like a drawing to yourself almost. It's funny because in a way, I mean, that sort of still point of the. Of the turning world. It's this contrast between the movie actor and the stage actor that I talked about before on the show. I know, where you have your Persona and then you sort of meld apart to you versus just being this pure chameleon. I think there's obviously a crossover between the two. And that you have to have a sense of yourself, whether you're a stage actor or a movie actor, but just in terms of the Persona. But with. With Michael, with this idea of being a stage actor and being a chameleon. It's like he's entirely externalized. He has no center, he has no still place. And you need a little bit of that to retain your sanity. And I think also to be a good actor. Because you have to have some quietude or some sense of oneself and a sense of reality to which a part can be molded. And so I think that a profession like acting for a person who's well adjusted and who has that sense of stillness or that sense of observation or whatever. I think acting is noted for being a very empathetic profession. Because I think there is this chameleon property. But in a way, what Michael is, is just. He's like a dress on a rack, right? Like he's just sort of going through all of these different Personas. He's not truly inhabiting them. And he's not really learning from any of these characters that he's taking on. And if he was learning and if he was being empathetic and had a sort o…

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    Our Name is Subtext, Podcast of Podcasts. Hear our “Ozymandias” Discussion, Ye Listeners, and Despair! Oct 11, 2021
    Show notes

    The land is not just ancient but “antique,” and while many of its artifacts end up as the possessions of distant museums, they may yet be capable of overpowering their audiences. Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Ozymandias” is traditionally taken as an exploration of hubris, and of the obliviating effect of time on power and its pretensions. But the poem also speaks to the power of art to preserve, and how this is accomplished by a hermeneutic collaboration between artist, audience, and subject matter. If there is something alive in the passions reproduced within an artist’s inanimate medium, then our creative powers may ultimately not belong to us. Thanks to our sponsor BetterHelp. Get 10 percent off online therapy at betterhelp.com/subtext Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Thanks to Nick Ketter for the audio editing on this episode. Transcript 0:12 Wes: The land is not just ancient, but antique, and while many of its artifacts end up as the possessions of distant museums, they may yet be capable of overpowering their audiences. Percy Bysshe Shelley's Ozymandias is traditionally taken as an exploration of hubris and of the obliviating effect of time on power and its pretensions. But the poem also speaks to the power of art to preserve and how this is accomplished by a hermeneutic collaboration between artist, audience and subject matter. If there is something alive in the passions reproduced within an artist's inanimate medium, then our creative powers may ultimately not belong to us. This is Wes Alwan. 0:56 Erin: And this is Erin O'Luanaigh. 0:57 Wes: And you're listening to Subtext. So, Erin, I think this is a really appropriate poem to do after Alien, because I probably have a much looser association here. The poem is actually quoted in Covenant. I found out when looking at trivia. 1:16 Erin: Oh, wow. 1:17 Wes: I thought, oh, there's a segue for us from Alien to Ozymandias. 1:21 Erin: Well, isn't this also inscribed at the foot of the space jockey or. That's a joke. I know that it's not 1:31 Wes: the gears. We're processing that because obviously it's impossible for that to be. 1:37 Erin: You know, those aliens are like really big Shelley fans. 1:41 Wes: Yeah, that's Ridley Scott trying to be the king of kings there with that massive space jockey. 1:49 Erin: That's a good Cecil B. DeMille plug right there. Yeah, yeah. Another TV show or film or whatever that references. This is Breaking Bad, right? Because when I talk about it with my students, they're like, oh, this is the Breaking Bad poem, which is awesome. That thrills me that they both have seen Breaking Bad and have familiarity with this poem because of Breaking Bad. But I feel like this gets referenced all the time. I don't know. Are there other places where it appears besides Alien? Breaking Bad. 2:18 Wes: I don't know. But this idea will be part of our conversation today to the extent to which the poem itself is a monument and self referential. Right. In its aspiration to become a monument. The parallel between the artist and Ramses II, AKA Ozymandias. Much cooler name. 2:34 Erin: Totally. 2:34 Wes: I'm sure it's appeared in many places and I'm sure it's the most well known of Shelley's poems or the most read. Right. There's Prometheus Unbound. 2:45 Erin: I had the misfortune of reading that entire thing. Yeah. 2:48 Wes: You know, I tried to look at read some other Shelley poems As preparation for this. I can't say he's a poet that generally grabs me and he's a very. What's the word for it? Excited. Yeah, that's excited guy. This poem, it seems to kind of depart from his usual style in a 3:10 Erin: way which I love. Shelley is, full disclosure, he's by far my least favorite of the six major English Romantic poets. Ode to the West Wind was frequently parodied in my house growing up. I fall upon the thorns of life, I bleed. We'd say that whenever we like. Something bad happened that was very minor. Oh, no, we ran out of coffee. 3:31 Wes: Yeah, dinner's late. Again. 3:33 Erin: I fall upon the thorns of life, I bleed. Yeah, so. So he was always like the object of our scorn, my mom and I. She also hated Shelley. 3:43 Wes: So, I mean, he did have a very tragic life, but it was kind of self imposed. 3:48 Erin: Yeah, yeah. Not quite up to the Keats standard of tragedy. 3:53 Wes: Right. He tried pretty hard to. 3:56 Erin: Yeah, yeah, exactly. 3:57 Wes: Beginning with being very publicly an atheist in school and publishing a tract and sending it to all the professors and bishops, pissing everyone off and. And ending with falling out of a boat. Sorry. 4:12 Erin: Yeah. When I was at Oxford. It's funny because there's a whole monument to him at Oxford now, which is hilarious considering what happened to him there. They've reclaimed him, I guess. Yeah. But this, you know, this is a wonderful poem. Should we just get started and just read it and then talk about it or should we say anything more? It's an occasional poem, in a way. 4:32 Wes: Should we say a little bit more about the background? 4:35 Erin: Sure. 4:36 Wes: So the. The poem began as a competition and between him and his friend Horace Smith. Right. They tasked themselves with writing a sonnet on the same topic. And I think it was inspired by a visit to the British Museum. Right. And the sculpture is, you know, fragment of a statue of Ramses II, that had been taken out of Egypt. And at this. At this time, there are lots of antiquities, Right. Flowing out of Egypt because of Napoleon's invasion, basically, and plundering of all those ruins and artifacts. So there was quite a bit of Egyptian stuff arriving at the museum. And I think the statue at the museum was a impetus for this. 5:16 Erin: And then they found that Diodorus little fragment, the Roman historian. 5:20 Wes: Right. 5:21 Erin: So Diodorus described this inscription on a statue which read, king of Kings, Ozymandias am I. If any want to know how great I am and where I lie, let him outdo me in my work. Which is like pretty awesome inscription. So I think that directly inspired Both sonnets that came out of this, one of which has a much more involved title than Shelley's Ozymandias. The title is hilarious of the other one. I don't know if we should say it now or talk about it later. Okay, so the title of Smith's poem is, On a stupendous leg of granite discovered standing by itself in the deserts of Egypt, with the inscription inserted below. 5:58 Wes: Wow. 5:58 Erin: I gotta say that even I know that's a bad title. 6:01 Wes: Well, he wins the competition for title length. 6:04 Erin: Yeah, there you go. That's what it's all about. 6:07 Wes: Big, big title. So. Yeah, so I think Ozymandias is the Greek name for Ramses ii. So the poets connected the statue and the account from Diodorus and then went from there. The competition was on, but it's not really much of competition in the end. Maybe we'll get a chance to look at Smith's poem a little bit, but sure. Yeah. It's just not even close. Shall we read the poem and then you can read it, and then we can talk a little bit about the structure and rhyme scheme and then move on to our analysis. Okay, go for it. 6:38 Erin: Okay. I met a traveler from an antique land who said, two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desert. Near them on the sand half sunk a shattered visage lies, Whose frown and wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command tell that its sculptor well those passions read which yet survive, Stamped on these lifeless things the hand that mocked them and the heart that fed. And on the pedestal these words appear. My name is Ozymandias, king of kings. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair. Nothing beside remains Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far away. 7:22 Wes: Very nice. So the structure of this, am I right to say it combines two types of sonnet, the Petrarchan and the Shakespearean? 7:30 Erin: Oh, yeah, I guess. Yeah, I guess it does. 7:32 Wes: So the rhyme scheme is more Shakespearean. Right. But it's divided into a octave and a sestet. It's a, B, A, B, A, C, D, C, E, D, E, F, E, F. So it's a weird little variation, you know, it's a regular. I guess it still qualifies as a sonnet. 7:54 Erin: Oh, there are much, much crazier sonnets than this. 7:58 Wes: I figured. 7:59 Erin: Yeah. So the thing that strikes me first, always when I read it, and it always surprises me, is that almost the entire poem is a quote, which is bizarre. So there's this bizarre distancing effect that Shelley's using where the I that begins the poem just completely drops away. And the entire thing is this quote of this traveler. So it's sort of doubly refracted for a poem that begins with the I. It's extremely impersonal. And it's this traveler's account of the sculpture coming upon it in the sand. And then there's also the quote within the quote of the traveler reciting the inscription. It's very strange. 8:39 Wes: It creates this sense of mediation on the one hand, so you get a kind of further insulation between the audience and the poet here by interposing someone else. And then there's always the question of the reliability if you interpose a Persona, narrator. But the question of the reliability of the narrator always arises. And that's kind of apt in this case because we're going to also take this as a commentary on art and the artist and the status of representation, which we'll get to. And we can think of the travel in various ways. So we're thinking here about source material and reliability. And I think people were. It was kind of controversial whether. Right. Diodorus himself could be relied on, whether this account was actually accurate or his accounts were actually accurate. So who's the traveler? Right. Is it Diodorus? Are we meeting him metaphorically. There are also a lot of people writing travelogues at the time. You know, just as all the antiquities were coming back, people were visiting and writing about Egypt. And so there's the question of the reliability of those accounts. We could think of the narrator as someone in the past meeting Diodorus, or we could think of Diodorus in a way as a time traveler, which is apt in the sense that these monuments themselves sort of become time travelers that speak to us through time. So there's a lot of ambiguities just in this use of a traveler here. And we'll see that's repeated throughout the poem. A lot of interesting pregnant ambiguities. So that work very well in the poem. The word antique. Well, yeah, I think, is a great word. 10:15 Erin: Right, right. 10:16 Wes: Not ancient. 10:17 Erin: Yeah. So I just wanted to dive right in and call our attention. I mean, that's the word that grabs your eye in the first line. An antique land. Like you say, it's a place where a lot of antiquities are coming out of. But there's also this idea that the land itself is antiqued or. I don't know, what do we want to say about that? 10:35 Wes: The things that come out of. Out of Egypt are antiquities and maybe even think the Sorts of things that will end up in antique stores and end up in people's living rooms of tourists, ultimately, if not museums. So it recasts the land as something that is for the conqueror, for the exploiter. In this case, Napoleon. Right. And Britain. So we're immediately confronted with an irony which is that Ramses' monument is supposed to, in a way, make him the big guy. He's sort of to help him trans. Temporarily subject others. Right. It's not good enough that he's king of kings. He's got to do that across time by way of his monuments. In this case we get a reversal, right? The monuments simply become something to be enjoyed in a museum, something to be plundered and so on. So that's just the things you can do with one word, right? 11:35 Erin: Yeah, I love that as a whole civilization or country as now being a place of plunder, which is allowed because of the fact that its glory days are past. Right. So those empires currently at the height of their powers can come in and make of this antique land, you know, what they want. But obviously contained within the poem, I think, as you're suggesting, is this idea that those civilizations currently at the height of their powers will also then become antique lands that the dominant force can come in and take their knickknacks from. 12:08 Wes: Naturally, we can ask the same question of the work of art. Does the work of art subject the audience in a way, as I think Ramses imagines his monuments subjecting future peoples? Or does the audience subject the work of art? Right. Curate it, take it, put it in a museum, make the artist their servant, you work for me, that sort of thing. And then just to say once again that we are, I think the mediation of the traveler raises the question of accuracy, which is that old Platonic accusation, art is a lie, artists are making things up. Or even representation per se keeps us at a distance from reality. It's not something to be valued or favored. And it can even have a bad influence on us. It can be a way of sort of virally spreading poor character. That's Plato's accusation. Aristotle responds with the concept of catharsis, a different concept of identification that might not be so corrupting to us. So I think we can, you know, we can introduce all those. Those ideas here that I think do pay off later. 13:18 Erin: Sure. Well, I think that gets us to the two vast and trunkless legs of stone, Right. Because right away we have this heroic scale of the body. Something that's literally blown out of proportion, or it's in proportion but it's way blown up. 13:33 Wes: Yeah, yeah, very good. 13:35 Erin: So I think it's supposed to be reminiscent maybe of the Colossus of Rhodes. Keeping that in mind. 13:41 Wes: Yeah, yeah, I think that's very good. Because this word. We're going to be confronted later on in the poem with two ideas that are opposed to each other. One is this idea that the statue mocks, and the other is that it, well, reads. That it reads something. Well, it's an accurate representation. On the other hand, it mocks, which. There's a double entendre there. You know, mock is simply an imitate, simply as engage in representation of mimesis. But on the other hand, might mean make fun of. And in this case, possibly by caricaturing, possibly by distorting. So that the grandiosity of Ramses, as you're pointing out here, can be related to a kind of lack of accuracy or misrepresentation or even caricature and mockery. So inadvertent self caricature, simply by virtue of his arrogance and his aspirations. 14:43 Erin: Right. And he's been cut off. We have these great pairings of descriptors, I think, that happen throughout the poem. So we have famously, the last two pairs, the lone and level and the boundless and bare. But here we have vast and trunkless. And as you suggest, like the hand that mocked, the heart that fed. So we have these pairings of things which I think are kind of opposed to each other. So the idea that the legs can be vast is sort of ironically cut off at the knees or a little higher up, that it's also trunkless. So it's a kind of absurdity. An absurdity. Absurdity which is obviously highlight…

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    Sex and Tech in “Alien” by Ridley Scott Sep 27, 2021
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    The Nostromo is a labyrinthine spaceship, a hulking ore refinery run on a sophisticated computer operating system and manned by a crew of seven. But somehow it’s not the most impressive piece of technology in Ridley Scott’s 1979 film Alien. That distinction belongs to the title character, an organism with blood of acid and two sets of jaws, highly-evolved, adaptable to any climate. Its scientific mission, if you will, is to fulfill a basic biological imperative: to become a parent. Fitting, then, that it chooses to prey on a ship controlled by its own problematic Mother. Just what kind of existential threat does this techno-sexual organism pose to a man-made and sterile future? And how does one woman manage to defeat it? Wes & Erin analyze. Thanks to our sponsor BetterHelp. Get 10 percent off online therapy at betterhelp.com/subtext Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Thanks to Nick Ketter for the audio editing on this episode. Transcript 0:11 Erin: The Nostromo is a labyrinthine spaceship, a hulking ore refinery run on a sophisticated computer operating system and manned by a crew of seven. But somehow it's not the most impressive piece of technology. In Ridley Scott's 1979 film Alien. That distinction belongs to the title character and an organism with blood of acid and two sets of Jaws. Highly evolved, adaptable to any climate. Its scientific mission, if you will, is to fulfill a basic biological to become a parent. Fitting then that it chooses to prey on a ship controlled by its own problematic mother. Just what kind of existential threat does this techno sexual organism pose to a man made and sterile future? And how does one woman manage to defeat it? These are the topics for today's discussion. This is Erin O'Luanaigh and this is Wes Alwan and you're listening to Subtext. So Wes, I don't know where I first heard this. It's a story that Sigourney Weaver has told at some point in like a making of featurette or maybe it was an interview, but I remember seeing it a few years ago where she talks about how her parents came to visit her on the set of Alien and it was really her first major movie. As we mentioned in our Annie hall episode, she did appear in the. The last bit of Annie Hall. I think she was on screen for like six seconds in that wide shot. She was Alvy's date to the movie at the end of the film anyway, so this is really properly her first film. And her parents came to visit on set one of the days that they were shooting inside that Alien spaceship. And I guess she sort of took them on a tour and through the sort of tunnels and her parents were looking a little puzzled and a little uncomfortable. And finally they were like, what kind of movie is this? Exactly. Certainly the art production in this film emphasizes certain elements of human anatomy, shall we say? I think that's an important theme in the film. 2:11 Wes: Yeah, we've both seen the Beast within, the making of Alien. I love the title of that because I don't think Alien has anything to do with the beast Within. But anyway, we'll get to that. I've seen it more recently than you have, although I know you rewatched at least a little bit of it. But there's a lot the film about one of the artists for the film. This really creepy. Is he German or Austrian? I forget. 2:37 Erin: I think he's Swiss. 2:38 Wes: Oh, is he Swiss? Okay. Hans Giger. And I don't know if he's the one who does the interior of the spaceship. I know. He's the one who does the famous space jockey and the interior of what they call the derelict ship, the one they find on the planetoid. He explicitly is interested in kind of combining technology and sexuality or biological forms. But, yeah, a lot of it very obviously sexual. So his work often looks like it's. It's like someone's combining human anatomy with automobile parts or something like that. And it's really fabulous. It's an incredible set in the derelict spaceship that I think the studios. Right. They didn't want Ridley Scott to actually even build it because it was so expensive. And it's just for one scene in the movie. 3:29 Erin: Right, right. 3:30 Wes: But, yeah, as you point out, there's this very interesting crossover between technology and sexuality and also being a mother. And that's the really, really. The interesting way the film begins is this very, very explicit connection between technology and a kind of artificial womb. Right. So everyone's in hibernation to begin with in the movie. And they're all going to wake up. To me, it looks like they're wearing diapers, right. They're all going to wake up in their cribs. And the computer that runs the mothership is called Mother. And one of the wonderful things about the film is just the way it opens on an empty ship. Empty except for. Well, there's the. There's corridors, there's the empty bridge. There's some sort of like, moving helmet at some point in the distance. And then you see a computer boot up at the very beginning. And it's. And it's cool reflection in a. In a helmet and corridor lights coming on. So you get the sense that things are. The ship is empty but highly automated and also an environment that can sustain life. So it's an interesting contradiction, right, this sterility of the ship and the sterility of technology in general. The unfeeling quality of the technological, but also the fact that it can be life sustaining. And there's a great touch which I think really kind of succinctly captures this idea, which is the drinking birds, right. Which, you know, in the scenes in the beginning, you just see them in the distance and it's hard to make them out in what they are if you don't already know what they are. I think they are probably a more popular, like, toy in the 70s and 80s or something. But they weren't immediately recognizable to me until later in the film when you see them more clearly. So in the beginning, you just get this very, very long shot of a ship in which there's largely no activity except for these birds that are kind of like they're not perpetual motion machines, but they're. It's like they're almost Right. The way they work involves, like, pressure and temperature in a way where they can seem to indefinitely rock back and forth and look like they're drinking out of a cup. So life versus not life, automation versus what is life sustaining and maternal. All that stuff is really nicely set up in the very beginning. 6:03 Erin: Yeah, it's sterile and yet oddly not sterile at the same time. Right. Some parts of the ship with the white padding and the sort of gestational area for hypersleep that looks really future. That looks more like 2001. But other parts of the film. I know Ridley Scott uses this famous term of like truck drivers in space. 6:25 Wes: Right, right. 6:26 Erin: Other parts of the film look more like, you know, the Millennium Falcon. The, like, hunk of junk type spacecraft that's really degraded and shows that this is a ship that's been used and is. It's also just bizarre looking. And I guess, like, my first thought when we see the whole thing is that it looks like a floating 19th century factory or something like that. It doesn't look particularly like a clean place. 6:50 Wes: Well, it's towing the ship itself is towing a big refinery. 6:54 Erin: Right, right. And I guess spaceships don't have to be aerodynamic. It just doesn't. It doesn't have any sleekness to it. Quite the opposite. But also about that shot in the beginning, it's very strange because the camera is usually following the perspective of a character. You know, usually a camera's movement is motivated by. Not necessarily in a master shot, but if it's sort of gliding down a hallway, it's following the perspective of a particular character who's walking down the hallway. So here we have the camera gliding down a hallway not motivated by any particular character's perspective because they're all, it turns out, in hypersleep. But it seems to be turning and looking. The doors even open for it. When it goes into the hypersleep chamber, the lights come up, which could be because, you know, the ship is also waking them up at the same moment. But there's this sense of uneasiness right from the beginning because of that unmotivated camera action. So in other words, the camera is the alien, or it's another alien. Right. That's coming in to the womb. It's the invader in the womb. 8:02 Wes: Interesting. 8:03 Erin: Which really also highlights, I think, the Vulnerability of the crew from the very beginning, outside of the fact that they're all half naked in these sort of quasi diapers. 8:12 Wes: Yeah, that's very interesting. I mean, you know, as usual, any commentary on the role of technology here can be taken as a meta commentary on film and even the arts in some sense. You're reminding me that the camera is actually following the boot up in a way. Like the reason why those doors open on the hibernators is because everything's booting up, you know, apparently. And so you could say you could motivate the opening of the doors by the fact that it's part of this boot up process, the lights in the corridor coming on. But I was also thinking that if you're watching the film for the first time, the beginning, you're seeing an empty ship and you don't know, there's a lot of confusion. You don't know exactly what's happening. You don't know if this is the aftermath of something horrible that's happened. Right. There's no people around or if it's a lost in space situation. And when I say I don't know what's going on, I still don't even know what that vibrating helmet is supposed to be. I think in the screenplay it's somehow communicating with the other helmet. It's involved in the triggering a computer to boot up or something like that. But I still don't quite understand it. Getting back to what you said about the hunk of junk quality versus more of a sterile 2001 quality to certain parts of the ship. And I was thinking, before you said it, I was thinking truckers in space. 9:37 Erin: Oh, really? 9:38 Wes: So that contrast reflects an interesting conflict that arises. So right in 2001, it's a scientific mission, Right. In search of artificial intelligence, or how does it all work? 9:53 Erin: I don't remember. 9:55 Wes: I've forgotten. Even though I read the novel a long time ago, I've seen the movie. So there's a, you know, these are scientists in 2001, I think, on a knowledge seeking expedition. But in this case, the truckers and space aspect of this, they're just a commercial ship bringing back ore. It's a towboat basically connected to a huge refinery, bringing back ore. The motivations are pretty much commercial. And yet they get sidelined by what is basically a scientific expedition for which they're really not, except for the Android Ash, they're really not qualified. And so that conflict becomes a big part of the movie. 10:34 Erin: Yeah. And what I Remember best about 2001 is just first of all, the cleanliness and also the scale. I remember that huge floating Howard Johnson's. I don't know if you remember that. 10:47 Wes: Yeah, right. 10:47 Erin: One of the things I noticed about that helmet is that it has that airport over the mouth, the emergency helmet that in shadow. It makes the helmet look almost like a pig snout. I thought of at the beginning. Or of course it could be a gag. Right. It made me think about the fact that 2001 and the cleanliness and sort of open spaces and the largeness, the scale of everything in that film is turned on its head here. So they're very, very narrow hallways which are extremely intestinal looking. And it's an odd contrast because they're in space. Right. So space is lim. And yet everything that they are in is extremely enclosed and claustrophobic. The helmets that you're on, you know, it's an irony that when you're out in space, you know, you're sort of trapped in this glass helmet with just your own breathing. And in fact, over the soundtrack, very often in this film we just hear breathing of main characters who are either out in a spaceship or breathing heavily because they're running from the alien or scared or something. So of course a theme of the film is going to be, you know, the inability to breathe and the fact that the alien gestates in the lungs, which I think is an important distinction from the stomach in a lot of ways. But that closed off and that feeling of being gagged, it seems to symbolize the sort of the limits, the very closed off parameters of the mission in a certain way. And the sort of working class nature of the mission that they're undertaking and the fact that the company is probably trying to cut costs as much as possible and all of that. Whereas in 2001 it's sort of a more positive, at least in terms of the style of the spaceship, a more positive and open and perhaps wealthy view of space exploration. 12:39 Wes: Yeah, I think a lot of that is deliberate with the whole feeling that there's cost cutting going on. Right. So Ridley Scott wanted like a retro aspect to some of this where the. The computer looks really unsophisticated. Right. It looks like it's like DOS booting up. 12:55 Erin: And yet you can ask it idiomatic questions and it'll know the answer. If you say like, what's the issue, Mother? 13:02 Wes: Yeah. What's the story about this? 13:03 Erin: What's the story? Yeah, yeah. 13:05 Wes: So this is one of the interesting things about technology, which is that it can serve as a kind of artificial Womb in this circumstance, right. This is what is being conveyed to us very explicitly. And even though we're not on the spaceship, we can think of our own lives in the same way. So there's a sort of threat. The threat of technology is highlighted from the beginning. And it's a threat that applies to all of us, which is just that it can infantilize us, it can be a surrogate. We're all familiar because of our smartphones with the way in which it can kind of hijack and replace actual human interaction, actual human intimacy. There's the same sort of threat going on with the ship, but it's accentuated. And the threat is that everyone depends on Mother for their lives. They're in a artificial life sustaining environment, a kind of womb. And the question is whether the mother, their quote unquote technological mother, is a good mother, whether she is going to actually protect them. And of course she doesn't. Right. I love the line. Mothers interrupted the course of our journey near the very beginning. Right? So that's when, you know, Dallas goes and finds out what's going on. So Mother, instead of performing her protective role, she sidetracks them to do this dangerous mission which. Right. Runs against their commercial interest and runs against the, the imperative to simply be safe. It's more libidinal in a way, even though it's sublimated, it's more about the desire to explore and to investigate. And it's important that the, you know, the object of investigation here is intelligent alien life, specifically. That's the inte…

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    Dead Wall Reveries in Melville’s “Bartleby the Scrivener” Sep 13, 2021
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    Melville’s “Bartleby the Scrivener” is subtitled a “Story of Wall St.,” yet there is almost nothing in it of the bustle of city life, and entirely nothing in it of the hustle of the trading floor. The story’s walls block out the streets, serving on the one hand as a container for a colorful assortment of human Xerox machines, on the other as a blank projection screen for the reveries of a man who seems to quietly rebel against the very concept of imitation. Can we continue to live and work, if we strongly prefer to do nothing that is derivative? What happens to our aspirations, if we come to fully appreciate the gravity of fate? Could we continue to tell our own stories, if we were liberated from all idiosyncrasies of character? Wes & Erin analyze. Thanks to our sponsor BetterHelp. Get 10 percent off online therapy at betterhelp.com/subtext. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:09 Wes: Melville's Bartleby the Scrivener is subtitled A Story of Wall street. Yet there is almost nothing in it of the bustle of city life and entirely nothing in it of the hustle of the trading floor. The story's walls entirely block out the streets, serving on the one hand as a container for a colorful assortment of human Xerox machines, and on the other as a blank projection screen for the reveries of a man who seems to quietly rebel against the very concept of imitation. Can we continue to live and work if we strongly prefer to do nothing that is derivative? What happens to our aspirations if we come to fully appreciate the gravity of fate? Could we continue to tell our own stories if we were liberated from all idiosyncrasies of character? This is Wes Alwan. 0:54 Erin: And this is Erin O'Luanaigh, and you're listening to Subtext. 1:00 Wes: So, Erin, I think if I had to choose a title for this book, it would be Not Bartleby, but Dead Wall Reveries, which is. There's a few phrases I really like in the book, but that I think it would also be a great name for a band that would be. I'm like, I can't believe this is just sitting there in the text. This should be a title. 1:25 Erin: It's funny that you should say that, because I think I told you offline at some point that I teach the story, or taught now, former teacher, taught the story every year to my high school students, my 10th graders. And I always gave pop quizzes, or not always, but, you know, frequently gave pop quizzes, like the morning after they were assigned a reading. And I'd always try to trip them up with a painfully obvious question. So one of the frequent ones I used was, like, who wrote this? And they would ignore the name of the author. But for Bartleby, I always asked, what was the subtitle? And they never knew. And somehow, not only would they forget the subtitle, but they always forgot where the story was set, that it was set in Wall Street. And I had to explain to them that was really crucial because they didn't seem to think that it was important at all, just like they didn't seem to think it was important that Melville wrote it or anything like that. So, yeah, but I think if I had to title this, what would I title? No matter how dissimilar, I always see a continuity, or at least some surprising thematic crossover between and among episodes that are adjacent to each other. And as we've been talking and thinking about Alien, certain similarities presented themselves to me. So maybe Space Invader. 2:43 Wes: I don't know. Oh, I love that. 2:47 Erin: Something. 2:48 Wes: I know Space Invader. That would be a great adaptation of this actually short film. All right, I want to take your quiz now. The subtitle. It's either a Wall street story or a story of Wall Street. 3:02 Erin: That's right. I would have accepted either one. Which one is it a story of Wall Street? 3:08 Wes: Yeah. It's so interesting. Yeah. Because there really is very little of Wall street in this. Right. There's not. There's one scene where you get a sense of the hustle and bustle of the city. That's the scene where Bartleby is actually being escorted off to prison, to the tombs. And there's a kind of. When I did my first reading, I kind of got the sense that this was a raucous crowd. Right. Some of them were arm in arm with Bartleby and that they were. Maybe there was something sadistic about this when he was being hauled off to jail. And. And then when I reread it, doing my notes, I saw that it's actually. They're silent. Let me just read the part here that's relevant. As I afterwards learned, the poor scrivener, when told that he must be conducted to the tombs, offered not the slightest obstacle, but in his pale, unmoving way, silently acquiesced. Some of the compassionate and curious bystanders joined the party and headed by one of the constables, arm in arm with Bartleby. The. The silent procession filed its way through all the noise and heat and joy of the roaring thoroughfares at noon. Which is a sentence I really loved. And, yeah, I see now, even rereading this, it's a constable who's arm in arm with Bartleby. I think I was imagining, like a bystander on either side of him and people being somewhat raucous and making light of it all. But really, it's silent. And I guess the bystanders feel allied to him in some sense. But anyway, just the contrast of the silence of that procession and then that sense that we get of the noise, the heat and joy of the roaring thoroughfares at noon. I think that might be the only real sense that we get of. I think, what our stereotype of Wall street would be, which is the kind of busy hustle and bustle of the city at day. There is one other mention of the contrast between the city at day and the city at night. This is just after where the narrator finds Bartleby living in the office and reassures himself that he would not be sitting down at the desk in any state approaching nudity. And then when he gets back there, he figures out that Bartleby has been living there. And reflects on his friendlessness and his loneliness and his poverty. And so he says, think of it of a Sunday. Wall street is deserted as Petra. And every night of every day it is an emptiness. This building, too, which of the weekdays hums with industry. And life at nightfall echoes with sheer vacancy. And all through Sunday is forlorn. And here Bartleby makes his home sole spectator of a solitude which he has seen all populous. A sort of innocent and transformed Marius brooding among the ruins of Carthage. So I guess when you directed our attention to the subtitle of the story. The idea that it's a story of Wall Street, I was. I guess my project was to show that there really wasn't much of Wall Street. I guess there's enough now that I've found a. Now that I've looked for the places where he gives it some characterization. 6:33 Erin: I think its lack of character is one of its characteristics. The more I read this story, the more I think it's a story about zoning or city planning or something like that. It's a business district whose opposite, I suppose, is a bedroom. So you have people who come into the business district for work during the day and who leave at a certain time. Leaving the business business district completely abandoned after certain hours and abandoned on Sundays, as Melville writes. And then you have the bedroom community, which is the place where you just go to sleep. So you have the two different zones of your life are very clearly marked. And so the idea that someone has invaded business with bedrooms. It seems to be like one of the main transgressions that's happening here. 7:20 Wes: It's interesting. I worked in the financial district from 2000 to 2002. And it was the same way. This characteristic, this thing that Melville was describing was absolutely true at the time. I think it probably still is true. Maybe even more so now after Covid. But this weird contrast, so busy during the day, so crammed full of people, and then completely deserted at night. So I don't know, what are we supposed to make of that? There's something about that contrast that is important here. And something about the contrast between associations between human beings, which are based on business, and then something that is actually more intimate. 8:07 Erin: Yeah, it's about the rhythms of life. And I think something, too, is here about the kind of work that they're doing that is. That plays into this, too, in a way. Bartleby is like re. Injecting some sort of vitality into this. Into this dead area by living there. So when we have these two zones of. And I'm not using this in the like, literal zoning way, we have these two areas of work and of recreation very clearly demarcated. And then you have, for instance, turkey and Nippers beginning to defy that. So turkey and Nippers are like the precursors to Bartleby. So you have someone who can only work half the day, so he's starting to encroach the bedroom or the. The home space into the workspace. Because there's something about this work, I think, demands what Wall street demands, which is a total shutting down for all things that are not business to only be open during business hours. And so Turkey and Nippers have already allowed something of home, something. Something that's not professional, into the workspace. And the narrator has been. Has allowed this. He allows these peccadillos. And we could talk about the narrator, obviously, in a minute. But so there's a kind of an understanding that the sacrosanct nature of Wall street is something extremely unnatural. And the narrator sees this and allows a certain amount of eccentricity on the part of his employees. I guess the problem is then what happens when you take it too far and you are. You're the equivalent of sitting around in your pajamas and eating cereal and playing video games all day, but at your place of work, but to be unemployed while you're at work, what that might mean. 9:55 Wes: That's. That's hilarious. Yeah. Before Google was offering napping pods and ping pong, narrator of the story was ahead of his time. 10:03 Erin: Well, exactly. And I mean, what is that designed to do except to get you to confuse work for home, to get you to be willing to live at your job and to make your job your life. So what happens when that unravels and you can't do that anymore and you're not. You're not living to work, you're working to live only that. I guess the only living that you can do is an extremely limited one within the parameters of an office building. I don't know. Yeah, I think of someone living in the cubicles. 10:32 Wes: Yeah, I was thinking too, with turkey and Nippers, I was thinking about how. Yeah, that is true. People really don't. In office jobs, there's a lot of being around the water cooler and these days the Internet. And you get. There's a small amount of time that you actually use for work when you go to an Office job. And then there's meetings which are in a way, themselves completely. It's just time wasting. It's a form of time wasting where people can feel important, but for the most part, time wasting. But in this case, I think what's interesting here is these are human copy machines. Basically, it's a law office. And he brags in the beginning about being focused on material gain, but not actually overly ambitious and says that the easiest way of life is the best. And he's a safe sort of man. And he has a. 11:22 Erin: This is the narrator, we should say. Yep. 11:25 Wes: And is. He has a job that's not difficult, but pays well. And it's basically a government job in a way because it was connected to a kind of sinecure, even though he lost it. And so he's an easygoing guy in a way. But he does want to get his. His work done. So it's not like he's on some extreme. He's not cracking the whip with his employees. But on the other hand, people there actually have to work. But I think part of it is the kind of work that's being done. They're taking legal documents and then making copies of them because there's no copy machines. And then having to proofread them by reading them out loud. Some of them, as long, I think he says is 500 pages. Right. It sounds just mind numbingly dull. So that what, you think that the ideal sort of person to do that sort of thing would be someone like Bartleby actually. Right. Who seems to be free of these human traits which define turkey and nippers and gingernut. So I. What I put down in my notes is just a synopsis of that whole introduction where he describes these characters in the kind of a very Dickensian way with their tics and everything. Right. He's setting us up for something that in a way the story is not going to deliver on. As if the story is going to be centered around these types of colorful characters, when really it's not. But I think that he tolerates the eccentricities of these people. They're flawed. Right. So they're colorful and they're very, very flawed. But he tolerates them because he finds them useful. He uses that word. What does he say? He. He says, basically he says, whatever the failings of them, they were very useful to me. And then we get someone who comes in who in a way is. I think of Bartleby as an uncharacter. If you were doing. If you set out a kind of literary exercise for yourself. We thought, well, what if I wanted to write the antithesis of a story that's focused on colorful characters, Someone who's basically just almost like a blank space in the story? How would I do that? In a way, that's the way I think of this as a kind of literary experiment on the part of Melville and then see what happens. See what that does to the story. 13:33 Erin: That's really interesting. And you're making me think of Hal from 2001 as well. The idea that we have these flawed humans who are all appetite is built into their names. One side note, whenever we would do this, I'd bring in ginger snaps for my students to eat while we would discuss it. So they're all, they're all fluctuation and appetite. They're all the, the, the humors. Yeah, the, the things. The pesky things about human beings find so difficult to program out of us. And, and then Bartleby is. He's less interesting than Hal, but he's. If a Xerox machine became self aware and suddenly decided to, to stop working, which is mostly what Xerox machines do is not work, but that kind of emptiness. The idea that this is a machine that just. You should be able to punch something in and get something out. And Bartleby seems like he's going to be the perfect Xerox machine. I think it's really interesting and fitting that he ends up being like you say, this sort of black hole at the center of the story. I think that's why Melville's little postscript might fail. I'm not totally sure about this, but I think there's a chance that any effort to explain Bartleby actually cheapens the mystery of the story. But we can address that later. But do you think that there's anything pathological in the narrator? Do you think that his, his complacency and the fact that he, in a way he's the most interesting character. Right. I mean, someone who moves their offices to get away from a pesky employee is psychotically passive, if that's a term that works. In a way, it…

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    Cursed Kids or Psych-Au Pair? “The Turn of the Screw” by Henry James Aug 30, 2021
    Show notes

    The story begins and ends with two variations on the meaning of the title. On the one hand, to give another turn of the screw is to ratchet up the horror of a good ghost story, in this case by involving children in it. On the other, it’s to treat the cause of that horror as if it were just another of life’s many obstacles, to be overcome both by screwing one’s courage to the sticking place, and by suppressing awareness of what is revoltingly unnatural in it. Whose screw turns out to be looser—the audience that enjoys such stories (and sometimes believes them), or the teller who manufactures them? Wes & Erin analyze Henry James’s “The Turn of the Screw.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:08 Wes: The story begins and ends with two variations on the meaning of the title. On the one hand, to give another turn of the screws to ratchet up the horror of a good ghost story, in this case by involving children in it. On the other, it's to treat the cause of that horror as if it were just another of life's many obstacles to be overcome, both by screwing one's courage to the sticking place and by suppressing awareness of what is revoltingly unnatural in it. Whose screw turns out to be looser, the audience that enjoys such stories and sometimes believes them, or the teller who manufactures them. Today we're discussing Henry James, the Turn of the Screw. This is Wes Alwan, and this is Erin O'Luanaigh, and you're listening to Subtext. So, Erin, I always found the title of this to be odd. And this is the first time I've read the Turn of the Screw. And I was looking forward to figuring out why he titled it in this way, what that meant. And it's still a bit obscure to me. There's two places in which this phrase, turn of the screw, turns up in the novella, but it's used in quite different ways in each of those cases. So I think one of the things we could do today is try to figure out what the point of the title is, because I think that ends up saying a lot about what's going on in the story. 1:34 Erin: Isn't it that the Turn of the Screw in the preface involves the emotional effect of a ghost story? 1:42 Wes: Yeah. 1:43 Erin: So they're listening to some ghost story, and they say the fact that this ghost appears first to a little boy, some little boy in the story at a tender age, adds a particular touch. But it's not the first occurrence of its charming kind that I know to have involved a child. If the child gives the effect another turn of the screw, what do you say to two children? We say, of course, somebody exclaimed that they give two turns. 2:07 Wes: So it sounds like it ratchets up 2:09 Erin: the suspense or it's even creepier or something. But there's some effect that these children seem to be having that is not quite so clearly spelled out. 2:19 Wes: I took the turn of the screws having something to do with suspense. But, you know, you're making me see that. Yeah, the creepiness might be the better word. They use some words as we go forward. The words that are used are dreadfulness, uncanny ugliness and horror and pain, which one woman describes as. Well, in response to dreadfulness, a woman says, oh, how delicious. So there's an emphasis in the beginning of the story, on the idea that ghost stories like this involve our getting satisfaction out of horrible things, on the one hand, and then associated with this idea is the notion that if you really want to make it as horrible as possible, get children involved. So you have this creepy insinuation all by itself that adults are sitting around gratifying themselves with tales of the torture of children. And one of the interesting things about the way this begins is that the tale that is the point of departure for the primary story in the book, the one that involves just one child, here's the way it's put. I remember no comment uttered till somebody happened to note it as the only case he had met with which such a visitation had fallen on a child. The case I may mention was that of an apparition in just such an old house as had gathered us for the occasion. An appearance of a dreadful kind to a little boy sleeping in the room with his mother and waking her up in the terror of it, waking her not to dissipate his dread and soothe him to sleep again, but to encounter also herself, before she had succeeded in doing so, the same sight that had shocked him. So one of the really interesting things about that is that is what we expect out of the parent, right? In general, we think of ghost stories as the fancies of children. They're made up, they're in a child's imagination. Unless we're superstitious adults and it's the role of the adult to tell the child, no, there isn't a monster under your bed, or, no, that was just a dream, there aren't really ghosts. You were just imagining that. And to provide a kind of soothing maternal function in that case that breaks down, the child doesn't get that you have an adult who actually also sees the apparition. So whether you chalk that up to. Within the context of the ghost story, of course ghosts are real. You can chalk it up to the internal consistency of that fantasy world, if you like. But you could also chalk it up to, you know, if you transfer that into our frame, that's just a psychotic parent or a failed parent who can't do their job and who can't alleviate the fanciful fears of the child. And of course, that's a foreshadowing of what actually happens in the turn of the screw in which you have a governess. So in the turn of the screw, the children don't even see the apparitions. Only the governess does, only the parental figure. So it's not just that they're seeing them and she can't soothe them. She's introducing, unless her account is correct, which I take her as being deluded, we'll discuss that. But unless her account is correct, she's introducing her own fears and fancies and psychosis into the situation and trying to, in a way convince everyone else of it, including the children. Of course, the alternate reading, if we were to treat it as a true ghost story, is that she, you know, the ghosts really are there and she does see them. And all the other evidence, psychological evidence that we get in the story, that we should ignore that and conclude that the ghosts are real. 5:52 Erin: The other part of that second reading would be that the children also see them and are just not being forthcoming about that. So there's a reading where the children, of course, know exactly what's going on. And I do think that these children are, at least in the way that we're getting the information from the governess. There is something extremely creepy about these children, which we could also talk about. But I like what you're saying about the frame narrative, which really stuck out to me during this reading. Just this morning I happened to find. I love Virginia Woolf's commentary on people, which can sometimes be very mean. But she wrote this great essay about James and I just found it in bits and pieces on somebody's blog. I couldn't even. I was trying desperately to find the whole thing and it's behind a paywall somewhere. So she was writing about James's ghost stories and she writes they have nothing in common with the violent old ghosts, the blood stained sea captains, the white horses, the headless ladies of dark lanes and windy commons. And she says that these old fashioned ghost stories, these things that people would tell over long hours that they had to spend sitting over the fire, drinking wine by the light of half a dozen candles, those things can't appeal to us anymore because of the fact that we have newspapers, basically that over breakfast we could read about more horrors than what people in the olden days could imagine in an entire year. And so I like the point that you're making about these people over the fire on Christmas Eve, getting their jollies out of hearing these tales of horror, because it seems to me like that's the old fashioned kind of ghost story, you know, which maybe is this experience is trotted out on Christmas Eves. Now. It was a particularly creepy time and traditionally a time when people would tell ghost stories, oddly enough. But I like that distinction because then what we actually get, as I think you're Also suggesting is a story that's very different from that kind of old fashioned ghost story, as Woolf herself also makes this distinction. His story is, I think, more about psychological realism than any kind of horror. Though maybe the two overlap quite a bit. Because the psychological realism that we see of the governess might have some horrifying elements to it. But the ghost story becomes a kind of a commentary. I don't know, storytelling itself or narrative itself, because it calls so much attention to itself, because it's a first person narration handed down as a quote, unquote, real account. And that narration itself is being transcribed by the guy we get in the frame narrative who's listening to and commenting on this guy Douglas's account because he knows this woman and the story within a story element. And then the mirroring effects that happen a lot within the story were just making me reflect that. The whole story seems to be a commentary on the limits of storytelling itself and the extremes to which one can push psychological realism almost to a breaking point where you can't really understand anyone or anything because everything becomes opaque or abstruse and you can't ultimately penetrate other people's perspectives with your own mind. It's like where writing ends, where the novel as a concept ends almost. I don't know if that's going too far. 9:05 Wes: You said it gets at the limits of psychological realism. 9:08 Erin: I think so, because we're getting this story told by this woman from the first person perspective. And basically everything that she's trying to do is to read her surroundings and read things that are actually extremely opaque and project onto them what she thinks is actually going on. And I suppose what I'm trying to say is that in effect is what we all do. But it's especially what artists, what writers do. They try to read stories into things, or they try to, especially realist novelists or novelists that are, like James, trying to get inside the head of people. They're trying to interpret how someone would act in certain situations and transcribe those thoughts. I suppose what I'm saying is that by the governess's failure, or what we might interpret as her failure of interpretation throughout the book, both in terms of things that she may or may not see and thoughts and motivations that other people may or may not be having, it ends in death and it ends in terror and horror. So to me, it almost seems to be like an indictment of just the process of trying to read and understand other people, which is in itself kind of an indictment of storytelling. So it becomes something very Hyper meta. Even though it's presumably a ghost story told by a fire in this innocent, old fashioned jump scare way. It takes that classical storytelling conceit, which is very straightforward, and turns it into something that's actually very. As a vehicle for something that's very bizarre. 10:33 Wes: So it's a parody or a satire of a ghost story. 10:36 Erin: Right. 10:37 Wes: I hadn't thought of the way you could see it as a satirization of storytelling itself, but that makes sense to me. I mean, my general reaction to the book, in all honesty, I didn't enjoy it reading it the first time, really I enjoyed it more just going through the second time and taking notes on it. But I also enjoyed a lot. I watched this 1999 TV movie version of the Turn of the Screw. I think it was done on pbs. It's very, very good. And it genuinely actually does have creepy and terrifying moments. And not because it tries to play up the supernatural part, it doesn't. You know, it treats it entirely as a matter of her. Her psychology. And yet it is. It's very effective. So my dissatisfaction with the story is a product of. So there's no ambiguity for me. She's a psychotic, hysterical person, very paranoid. And so basically you're in the mind of a paranoid person for 80 something pages, which I find very unpleasant. And there's lots of evidence from very early on in the story not just that she's an unreliable narrator, but that she's extremely paranoid. I don't know if disturbed is the word, that may be too pejorative in a way, but she's delusional in many ways. And probably there's hints that she's an inappropriate figure. I mean, I think ultimately she plays the role of the ghost in the story. She is the ghost. And that's a very original, in a way, take on this. I think it's not until we M. Night Shyamalan. Right. Success. Until the protagonist becomes the unwitting ghost in a ghost story again. And I say that she plays the role of the ghost. If we side with the children, which I do, or side with the idea that they're not seeing apparitions aren't really ghosts. More psychological reading then? Yeah. She is the one there being scary and being, to use her word and I think Flora's word at a certain point, cruel. So the idea of that is very interesting. But James's ornate prose, which I don't get the same satisfactions out of that prose as I do out of, say, Melville having to decipher a sentence. They should Use this for sentence diagramming in schools. How many subordinate clauses or triple, quadruple negations or whatever is going on that makes it so hard to read a sentence. The sheer complexity of it. That is not as rewarding to me and James. But the main thing is, psychologically, it's brilliant. It's incredible. But it's precisely for that reason that I find it unpleasant. So in a way, it's accomplishing. Right. It's accomplishing the objective of a ghost story, which is to induce discomfort, but it's psychological discomfort. And that happens to be something that in this case. And I could think about it some more. I don't get that meta pleasure out of it. Right. That people seem to get out of ghost stories or horror movies. I actually don't like horror movies either. But anyway, I don't think that answers the question very well of my dissatisfaction with it. 13:43 Erin: But I think that's really interesting because I also was thinking about James in contrast to Melville, simply because when we read Billy Budd, we both had that resistance at the beginning that sort of gave way to something that we both really enjoyed. As far as James goes, this is a pretty easy one to read compared to some of his other books. So I'm used to James. I'm used to the syntactic complexity being ratcheted up even higher, like, particularly in his late trilogy of great novels like the Ambassadors is really, really difficult to get through. And that has an entire page is just one sentence. 14:21 Wes: Jesus. 14:22 Erin: Yeah, it gets really crazy. But I guess you would agree with. There's this famous H.G. wells quote where the two of them kind of went back and forth like they sort of admired certain elements of each other's work. But James…

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    Gentility and Injustice in “Gone with the Wind” (1939) Aug 16, 2021
    Show notes

    On the moors of medieval Scotland, three witches hail Gone with the Wind— adjusted for inflation, the highest-grossing film in American history— has undergone several critical reappraisals in the 82 years since its production and release. Certainly the film romanticizes the Antebellum South and the Confederacy while glossing over the evils of slavery and stereotyping many of its black characters. Yet it may also provide a sharp critique or even satirization of its white characters— the ambivalent, arrogant, and deluded plantation owners who fail to acknowledge that their so-called “fairy-tale kingdoms” are built on the backs of slaves. What can we make of Rhett Butler’s characterization of the Confederate “Cause” as the “Cause of Living in the Past”? And why does even the modern, adaptable Scarlett O’Hara remain in thrall to a childhood dream that, like the “gallantry” of the Old South, was nothing more than a fantasy? Wes & Erin analyze. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Thanks to Nick Ketter for the audio editing on this episode. Transcript 0:09 Erin: Gone with the Wind, adjusted for inflation, the highest grossing film in American history has undergone several critical reappraisals in the 82 years since its production and release. Certainly the film romanticizes the antebellum south and the Confederacy while glossing over the evils of slavery and stereotyping many of its black characters. But it may also provide a sharp critique or even satirization of its white characters, the ambivalent, arrogant and deluded plantation owners who fail to acknowledge that their so called fairytale kingdoms are built on the backs of slaves. What can we make of Rhett Butler's characterization of the Confederate cause as the cause of living in the past? And why does even the modern, adaptable Scarlett O'Hara remain enthralled to a childhood dream that, like the gallantry of the old south, was nothing more than a fantasy? These are the topics for today's discussion. This is Erin O'Luanaigh. 1:05 Wes: And this is Wes Alwan and you 1:07 Erin: are listening to Subtext. Wes, I am so happy that we are finally doing Gone with the Wind. I feel like I have referenced this film in so many other episodes that we've done. Obviously, this movie has an important place in film history. There's a lot to love about it. There's a lot that's controversial, which I'm sure we'll get to over the course of our discussion. But just to give a little personal background, I think you and I have both talked about how we grew up watching wizard of Oz and we don't remember the first time we saw it. But I really strongly remember the first time I saw Gone with the Wind. It was Thanksgiving. I was 6 or 7 years old. And as the family was gathering around the table, they were talking about how Gone with the Wind was going to be airing on TV that night. And maybe that was something that we could do later, was watch it. I had heard of this movie before and I thought it was a James Bond movie based on the title. And I was. 2:07 Wes: It is a good title for. 2:08 Erin: Right. Like it kind of. That kind of makes sense. So I was really confused as to why so many people in my family who professed varying levels of interest in James Bond movies were so adamant about the fact that we should all sit and watch this. Anyway, I was very confused, very curious. And it started, and I obviously soon realized it was not a James Bond movie. And I was so captivated by it. I thought it was so beautiful. And I was just in love with Vivien Leigh. And I thought it was such an incredible experience that I asked for it from Santa for Christmas. And I got the two VHS double set and watched that double set pretty much every Saturday afternoon for the next. I want to say three. Three and a half years until I had worn out the tape. 3:05 Wes: Oh, wow. 3:06 Erin: Yeah. And I had. In my. I just remembered this. This morning in my freshman dorm in school, I had a poster of Rhett and Scarlet embracing over my bed in my freshman dorm room. 3:18 Wes: Wow. 3:19 Erin: Yeah. So this and wizard of Oz were probably urtext of my. Of my childhood and adolescence. 3:26 Wes: Very different. 3:27 Erin: I know. Well, and that's. Yeah. 3:30 Wes: I'm not sure if their relationship is such a good model for a young. 3:35 Erin: I know. 3:35 Wes: For a young mind. 3:36 Erin: I'm. I'm. You know, it occurred to me later how. How dangerous it was for me to be so obsessed with this film. Believe me, I know. But I'm glad we're getting two different flavors here, because you just watched this film for the first time, which I find so sad. Just a couple weeks ago. Right? 3:53 Wes: Yeah. I also vividly remember the first time I saw this film because it was a couple of weeks ago, and my second time was just this morning. So last night and this morning I did my second viewing with note taking. 4:06 Erin: So this is really the two ends of the spectrum in terms of perspective. 4:10 Wes: It is. I was excited to see this just because we were coming out of A Streetcar Named Desire and I thought it would be interesting to see another Vivien Leigh movie. And because I hadn't seen it and it's. It's an important movie to see and I was finally going to get to see it, you know, I honestly didn't think I was going to do two viewings, especially because it's three and a half hours. I thought I would approach this more casually, but I ended up doing the second viewing and taking lots of notes. So I was really impressed, especially by the visual aspect of the film. The cinematography, the use of these often silhouettes against a. So, for instance, Scarlet and her father standing against a red sky. The whole thing with the red sky and people, you know, whether it's a sunset or the burning of the Atlanta Depot and seeing figures cast against that. There's a lot of attention to the aesthetics of the film, which is appropriate to everything that's going on thematically. It's appropriate artistically to think about that. The visual lushness of the film, of course, is also related to the kinds of ideals involved in the Old South. Sort of the notion of gentility and the emphasis on appearances. Scarlet's interest in looking beautiful and wearing beautiful dresses. And hats and living on a beautiful plantation, all of those things. The film leans into all of that stuff, which I think gives it the unfair reputation of actually glorifying its subject matter when there's lots of evidence against that. 5:53 Erin: Absolutely, I completely agree. I think that the film is so much smarter about its source material and about the way that it's portraying certain things than people tend to give it credit for. It's been a long time since I've read the novel, I should say, but I have read it a couple of times. And I think that the novel is also more critical of the south than people give it credit for. And there's a lot in this that is anachronistic, though it does a pretty good job of. In terms of costuming and reproducing everything very meticulously. It does a great job at that. But a lot of people have argued, for instance, that Scarlet is. I think Ebert said this in his review and other people have noted this, that Scarlet is more of a Depression era heroine than a Civil War or Reconstruction era heroine. She gets away with a lot more than she would have ordinarily in that society. We could talk about whether or not that in itself is providing a sort of anachronistic model of an alternative way to be in this particular world. The visual beauty. A couple of times when I was watching this time around and I. I really do have almost the whole movie memorized, I'm sure, even shot for shot in my head. And still I'm just struck by certain moments where you can pause it and it looks like a painting. The one frame of the carriage going on that sort of perilous route back to Tara after Rhett has abandoned Scarlet and Melanie and Prissy and the baby. That shot of them coming through the landscape that's been destroyed by battles and there are all the headstones and crosses of, I'm sure, very shallow graves. It's not red in the backdrop, but a sort of early morning uneasy yellow, misty yellow, with the carriage silhouetted in black against that backdrop. Just reminds me of German Romantic painting. Like, I wonder if they were directly influenced by The Abbey in the Oakwood, which is painting by Caspar David Friedrich, which is just very, very similar and very, very evocative. So there are different shots in the film that seem to be referencing famous paintings or informed by them, at any rate. And it's just truly one of the most beautiful, I think, and very carefully visually constructed. I'm sure our listeners are familiar with a lot of backstory around the making of the film and how they actually had to paint in certain elements of certain shots. So they would take the. The film and they would have something where maybe in the background they wanted a grand house, like, say, Twelve Oaks. And they had physically shot all the stuff that they needed in the foreground. But the background was like Culver City, you know, so they would put one sort of half of a frame on top of what they had shot by painting in a beautiful house and sort of splice the two together and did other various tricks to sort of hide the fact that they were filming on a backlot. Because it really does look in many instances like it's been filmed on location. 8:56 Wes: Right. 8:56 Erin: Which is pretty rare at that time, and obviously it wasn't, but they. They really did a great job of disguising that fact and making you feel as though you're in Georgia. 9:05 Wes: Right. The burning of the Atlanta Depot. Right. That's the burning of a lot of different movie sets. 9:10 Erin: Right. 9:10 Wes: On lot that needed to be gotten rid of. 9:13 Erin: Right? Yeah. The King Kong doors are that big structure that comes tumbling down in that one magnificent shot. 9:20 Wes: That is beautiful. And you watch the movie and you wonder how they did that at the time. You wonder how they accomplished some of these things. Because the special effects seemed quite good. And then. Yeah, it was interesting to read. 9:33 Erin: Culver City Fire Department had a lot of phone calls that night. 9:36 Wes: Right. I saw that you mentioned the Ebert review, which I did read. So this is called. It's just called Gone with the Wind, I guess. So here's the part I had actually remembered and highlighted this part that you mentioned about Scarlett as a creature of the 1930s. So here's the way he put it for the story it wanted to tell. It was the right film at the right time. Scarlett O' Hara is not a creature of the 1860s, but of the 1930s. A free spirited, willful, modern woman. The way was prepared for her by the flappers of Fitzgerald's Jazz Age, by the bold movie actresses of the period, and by the economic reality of the Depression, which for the first time put lots of women to work outside their homes. Scarlett's lusts and headstrong passions have little to do with myths of delicate Southern flowers and everything to do with the sex symbols of the movies that shaped her creator, Margaret Mitchell. Actresses like Clara Bow, Jean Harlow, Louise Brooks and Mae West. The way Scarlet is represented as a protagonist is really important. And Rhett, as well as her antagonist slash lover, which is that it's in direct conflict with her environment, with the old South. I don't think it's any more anachronistic than the strong women of, say, a Pride and Prejudice novel. 10:59 Erin: I agree. 10:59 Wes: Strong women of a Jane Austen novel are anachronistic. But she is not simply the Southern belle in the way in which a lot of other women in the movie fulfill that role to one degree or another, because they are interested in propriety. Right. So she stands out. She's an exception. And this gets us back to the question of whether it's actually glorifying the old South. So to me, the movie feels from the beginning like a satire. You have Scarlett, fiddle-dee-dee, war, war, war. Right. To her, the war is silly. And quickly we get the same sort of attitude from Rhett Butler and a lot of contempt for the impracticality and dreaminess and foolishness of the south and the Southern cause. So glorification is really the last thing that comes to mind when jump into the movie. 12:03 Erin: I totally agree. And I think that what the movie is doing is just extremely subtle. So I think in the first half of the film, what I find really striking is how arrogant the south is and how infantile the south is about itself. I think it does that in several ways. In the first half of the film, I think where the critique breaks down is because the film doesn't follow through with that in the second half of the story. It doesn't maybe recognize the subsequent hypocrisy that the south shows by painting themselves as victims in the aftermath of the war. So you have these people literally asking for it, getting themselves into. Into a war that they can't win. And then in the second half of the film, when you see the aftermath, there's no recognition. There's maybe a little hint of recognition from Ashley, but otherwise no real recognition that they are not the sort of blameless victims suffering from a defeat that has been completely unjust and which has taken away their lives from them. So there's no recognition in the second half of the film. I think to that extent I understand people's problems with the film. I also understand people's problems with the way that the slaves are portrayed. And a few other things, though I think that the best character in the film and the most moral character in the film is Mammy. She really is kind of the moral center and probably the smartest person in the film. Of course, you can argue that that's canceled out by other characters, especially Prissy, though I think that also Prissy is a little bit more intelligent than I think the movie May be implying that she's a little bit subversive. 13:51 Wes: Right. 13:51 Erin: I think that people have a certain idea about this film and if they actually see it, they may be pleasantly surprised. I think especially compared to. And we can, sorry, get into the minutiae. But I think especially compared to other films of this era with black characters, this film is far more nuanced in its portrayals than other films of the period. And therefore, I sometimes feel as though, despite the subject matter and the fact that it directly is reckoning with our country's past and history of slavery and all of these things, I think at the same time, compared to other films of the time period, it's sort of an odd target for that kind of criticism because unfortunately, I've seen other films that are just pure stereotypes of black characters. Really disgusting stuff that I don't care to watch. So I think that this film has the, you know, the name recognition and the fact that it directly deals with the history. But I think that people would be surprised, and maybe not surprised in other ways if they gave the film a watching and saw the critiques of the white characters embedded in so much of the film. 15:02 Wes: Yeah, you know what we get with the text as we fade into the movie? There was a land of cavaliers and cotton fields called…

    Full show notes at the publisher

    Realism as Cruelty in “A Streetcar Named Desire” by Tennessee Williams Aug 02, 2021
    Show notes

    In the transition from stage to screen, A Streetcar Named Desire retained its long-running Broadway cast with a single exception: the role of Blanche Dubois, which passed from Jessica Tandy to Vivien Leigh. Like Blanche, Leigh was the odd woman out. A symbol of the glories of the studio system, married to the symbol of English stage acting, her classical training ran contrary to that of her Method-trained co-stars. Thus to the clash of wills between Blanche and Stanley Kowalski was added a clash of acting styles— and the struggle between the death of Old Hollywood and the birth of Brando and the New. Which principle— Blanche’s fantasy or Stanley’s realism— makes for superior art? Can the conflict between magic and truth ever be resolved? And is all realism a form of cruelty? Wes & Erin analyze Tennessee Williams’s A Streetcar Named Desire. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Thanks to Nick Ketter for the audio editing on this episode. Transcript 0:08 Erin: In the transition from stage to screen, A Streetcar Named Desire retained its long running Broadway cast with a single exception, the role of Blanche dubois, which passed from Jessica Tandy to Vivien Leigh. Like Blanche, Leigh was the odd woman out, a symbol of the glories of the studio system. Married to the symbol of English stage acting. Her classical training ran contrary to that of her method trained co star. To the clash of wills between Blanche and Stanley Kowalski was added a clash of acting styles and the struggle between the death of old Hollywood and the birth of Brando. And the new which principle, Blanche's fantasy or Stanley's realism, makes for superior art? Can the conflict between magic and truth ever be resolved? And is all realism a form of cruelty? Today we're talking about Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire. This is Erin O'Luanaigh, this is Wes Alwan, and you're listening to Subtext. So Wes, you know, I love Nichols and May and I try to bring them in whenever I can. One of their sketches that I don't think was ever recorded, so there's no record of this other than what reviewers and people at the time have written down. They used to do send ups of various literary styles. And one of their most popular was a parody of Tennessee Williams. And basically it was Mike Nichols giving a lecture as a Tennessee Williams figure, but he was renamed Alabama Glass. And he'll give this lecture and describe this new play. And in it the heroine had taken to drink, prostitution and putting on airs. And her husband Raul had killed himself on being unjustly accused of not being a homosexual. I don't know, thinking about that kind of made me think about how this one time I was watching Streetcar, it was right before the end. Blanche is in the middle of her breakdown. Everyone I was watching it with was like super invested in this, super into it. And someone walked into the room at that moment, saw what was happening on screen and started laughing. And I think the absurdity of Tennessee Williams is something that we don't. I don't know, maybe people talk about this a lot, but like there is a lot of suspended disbelief, I think that goes into watching it. Or rather like you kind of. You kind of sink in, like into a hot tub, you know, and once you're in, you're like used to it. But to someone who's just passing by during a heightened moment of gothic camp, who hasn't been properly primed for it, it's a little bit silly. I don't know if you agree with that. 2:42 Wes: Gothic camp. I really like that, you know, I Never thought about it that way. Exactly. I guess I think one part of it is sort of Blanche dubois has kind of become a cultural meme. So if someone is new to the film or the play and you return to it, you return to it as if it's. Someone might think if they didn't know that this was the origin of that type of character, they might think of it as a cliche. We can always ask the question of whether is it Blanche who's kind of over the top, or is it Tennessee Williams? In some ways, she gives him a nice opportunity to have someone give cool speeches. Right. And to be like her highfalutingness and her kind of pseudo erudition and wanting to say things fancy. All of that stuff lends itself to some really great speeches and turns of phrase for her. So it's, you know, you can see Tennessee Williams having fun through her. And we can also, you know, we can always ask the same question that we. That we typically ask in one of these episodes, which is the extent to which the artist appears in the play through a character or the extent to which there is some sort of commentary at work on the role of the artist. 3:59 Erin: Yeah. I think that this heightened sensibility, though, is true of all of his plays. I think Blanche is just like the most recognizable and parodyable figure. Didn't Woody Allen do like a send up of her? Okay, I'm not giving that up. I think he did. 4:15 Wes: In his recent autobiography, he calls A Streetcar Named Desire the perfect play. His favorite and the perfect play. Did he do a send up? 4:25 Erin: Why do I have this? 4:25 Wes: I'm surprised. I hope he did that. 4:28 Erin: I have this thing in my mind's ear of him doing a Blanche voice. I don't know. Someone can find that out. Once we release this, they could help us out. 4:37 Wes: Oh, you mean as like a passing joke in one of the films? 4:40 Erin: Yeah, I think so. 4:41 Wes: That does sound very familiar. Yeah. 4:43 Erin: Yeah. 4:44 Wes: She's perfectly suited to one of his movies in a way. You know, there's some sort of relationship between the neuroticism of his characters. Right. And her neuroticism or her hysteria. Really. 4:57 Erin: Sure. I think of Blue Jasmine as being maybe something like that. Cate Blanchett's performance in that the way 5:04 Wes: you started is not far off from the way I would have started. I thought I might be doing the intro for this. I always procrastinate at the very last minute. I start thinking about a title for the episode sometimes while I'm reading or thinking about it. And the phrase the fate of gentility. That's what came to my mind, even though I'm generally not interested in reading plays as social commentary, except to the extent that I want to read back any social implications back into the character. So the social stuff for me has implications for character and for aesthetics. But of course, it's very popular for theorists or literary critics these days to kind of turn literature into a vehicle for cultural analysis or sociology or however you want to put it. So I bring that up with a different intent, although I did kind of go down a rabbit hole and I started. I was thinking about what is Southern gentility? And just this whole shtick that she has going. I wanted to think about that and understand that. And I found someone's master's thesis online. It's called the Assessment of Southern Gentility by British Traveler, 1776-1820. 6:24 Erin: Oh, interesting. 6:25 Wes: This is by Chelsea Larson. I might as well give her credit. First of all, it's cool that these travelogues even exist. Like, there's a guy named Cooper who wrote Some Information Respecting America, Weld Travels through the States of North America, Bernard Retrospections of America, and many, many more. So you get these firsthand accounts of what America was like at the time, and in particular, the South. And these travelogues are focused a lot on the extent to which Southerners, whether they have any kind of gentility, because in a way, there's a weird thing going on with Southern gentility where you have people who are essentially, they're not like the British landed gentry, but they're doing a poor person's imitation of that, not that they're poor. These are people who end up having lots of enormous amounts of wealth very often, although according to these travel writers, they're typically not good at managing it. And they go through a lot of boom and bust type of cycles in a way that I think they're trying to imitate landed gentry. So when the colonists came to the United States, it really was kind of a leveling thing. And there's an opportunity for upward mobility. And except for the distinction between slaves and non slaves, there were not a lot of class distinctions. And so Southern gentility sort of is almost a conscious attempt to restore some of that. And I bring this up because one of the things that these travelogue writers took note of, the thing that was most glaring to them was Southern hospitality. People in the north stayed in hotels when they traveled in the South. It wasn't necessary, because if you were an aristocrat or if you were part of the Upper class. It wasn't necessary because people, before they would even ask you their name, would offer you a place to stay, food and lodging, basically. This impressed them a great deal. I think they thought it was even more pronounced than it would be back in England. So I didn't get exactly what I thought I would get out of going down this rabbit hole. It occurred to me while reading about hospitality, well, that is precisely this dependency on the kindness of strangers, which is one of the things I wanted to figure out, really what that means and how it's related to Blanche's shtick. 8:49 Erin: And that's something that I hope that we're also going to cover in our episode of Gone with the Wind, which I'm now really eagerly anticipating, the movie version of this. And just as a side note, I don't know what exactly we want to put our focus on here. 9:05 Wes: I think the movie is a good focus, and we can mention where there are deviations from the play. 9:09 Erin: Good. 9:09 Wes: There are a few things cut out, and there are a few deviations to meet the moral code of the time, but I don't think they're so numerous that it's gonna be hard to mash them together. 9:19 Erin: Yeah. And just for listeners, there was so much tinkering done, too, with the dialogue that many sections are taken entirely from the play. Many sections are just, like. Words are changed here and there, and it's kind of maddening. So I ended up just sort of choosing the movie because I love this movie so much, and I think of it as such an important historical document, in a way. But anyway, all of that being said, 9:44 Wes: I think some of that is Brando. Right. Just improvising some. 9:48 Erin: And some of it is Kazan and Williams sort of tinkering with things. And. Yeah, if you think of this as I do, as sort of the ultimate form of stunt casting, or the original, the OG stunt casting, having Scarlett O'Hara 12 years later, sort of, like, wash up on the beach as the sole survivor of an earlier age. Even though, fascinatingly, there is one other person who was a cast member on Gone with the Wind in this cast. It was the sailor at the beginning. He played Beau Wilkes, one of the children of Ashley and Melanie. Anyway, one can imagine this. And many, of course, very many contemporary viewers of the film imagine this as Scarlett has lost Tara. You know, insert Tara for Belle Reve, and everyone is dead, and she is seeking refuge now in the New South. Of course, that timeline obviously doesn't match up, but they mean in terms of, you know, thinking about this on some Kind of a continuum. So that really interests me. And this idea of Southern gentility. And that didn't occur to me what that means. I know very much what that means in Gone with the Wind and how important that is in Gone with the Wind and how false it can be, of course, too. And that falseness, I think, comes through as a through line here. But for me, that contrast between the old and the new south, it takes on a different meaning when you have Vivien Leigh thrown in with all of these method actors. Because now old and new south means old and new Hollywood. That's the thing that for me makes. I mean, Tennessee Williams couldn't have possibly thought of this when he was writing the play. And in a lot of ways, this is my reading of the movie. That is my particular idea of how actors, Personas, inform their roles in ways that they're not even conscious of and maybe that they don't realize until after the fact. But that clash is what interests me, which is also, in a way, a clash of cultures. And it's about, I think, what we're both getting at here about the clash between, you know, putting on airs and cutting the rebop as. As Stanley will tell Blanche to do. Which is one particularly dated line that stuck out to me. 12:04 Wes: Yeah. That's interesting because I looked up some interviews with Vivien Leigh and was very surprised by her posh English accent. 12:13 Erin: Oh, you didn't know she was English? 12:16 Wes: I might have known at some point, but I hadn't thought about who she was in a long time. And I didn't. This is not ever something I paid a great deal of attention to. 12:25 Erin: Oh, my gosh. You are so opposite of me. This is like all I know. 12:29 Wes: Yeah. By the time I looked at the interviews, I knew she was English, but I just didn't expect such a posh accent. 12:36 Erin: Very. 12:37 Wes: Yeah, it surprised me. And then I went back and I watched this 10 minute YouTube reel of Scarlett scenes from Gone with the Wind. Because I haven't seen the movie ever. I don't think so. If I have, it's been so long and I'm excited to see it now. 12:53 Erin: Oh, my God. Well, you know, that's one of my top two. 12:56 Wes: We could do it next. You want? 12:58 Erin: Oh, I would love that. 12:59 Wes: Let's do it next. That makes. That makes sense. 13:02 Erin: Okay. We're working backwards here, but because I 13:05 Wes: am very impressed with Vivien Leigh. 13:07 Erin: Well, who could not be? I used to sit as a kid and just stare at her face. I mean, I thought she was the most beautiful thing I hate it. Whatever. Anyway, sorry. Continue. 13:16 Wes: She is extraordinarily beautiful. As long as you don't put a harsh light on her. Just kidding. 13:23 Erin: Hey, 13:26 Wes: but Scarlet's very feisty, right? It's hard not to think about this transition from Gone with the Wind to Streetcar and to try to think about Blanche as sort of some sort of broken down version of Scarlett. I can't say much about this until I've seen the movie. But what I saw in that reel was Vivien Leigh is playing a much more feisty character who also seems quite, you know, they have in common the manipulativeness. But do you see some continuity there between Scarlet's feistiness and Blanche's psychotic dream world thing? 14:03 Erin: Sure. Yeah. I suppose a lot of Scarlet's power comes from, you know, she's a man's woman. We'll say that about Scarlett. 14:14 Wes: And we'll say what that means, too. 14:16 Erin: She operates on the same wavelength as men do. Or rather, she's the kind of woman that has few to no female friends because she's interested in. In gracious. So I mean this. In the. In there are lots of degrees of men's women and women's women and all that sort of thing. But I mean to say that she's the extreme version of this. Not just that she is chummy with men and she gets along with them well, but that she is, I think, fundamentally too competitive and obsessed with jockeying favor from men to…

    Full show notes at the publisher

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