'I'm up to my Neck in being an American, whether I like it or not'

Wallace Shawn - you know, Wallace Shawn, man of wit and letters, agreeable suppers with theatre directors,  and potentially poisoned cups of mead, has some things to say about life.  Haymarket Books have gathered his elegant essays in a book which turns out to be one of the wisest and most pleasurable I've read in a while.  He riffs on topics as varied and inextricably connected as the relationship between artists and the corporations who fund so many of us, the dependability of sex and our inability to talk about it, and what he considers the detachment from morality that occurs when you stop noticing the connection between imperialism and you.  You can hear his inimitable voice as you read, and, for myself at least, might rather wish you were discussing this with him in a cafe, just like he does with Michael Moore in 'Capitalism: A Love Story'.

The most striking thing about Shawn's writing is how seriously he takes the artist's vocation to re-humanise the world.  He knows that he is complicit in oppression, simply because the global structure deems it so; and he knows that by art and kindness he can up-end the scales of history.  It's a rich and challenging experience to read him, because he goes beyond the typical blame-everybody else-my-view-of-the-world-is-just-fine-thank-you-very-much rhetoric that tends to dominate these days.  He wants to write about life in a way that allows for the possibility of change on his own part, not just those he's angry with.  I'm still reading this super little book, but for now, here's some wisdom from Wallace, that I'd like to let speak for itself:

From the Introduction: 'My congenital inability to take the concept of inviolable 'self' seriously - my lack of certainty about who I am, where I am, and what my 'characteristics' are - has led me to a certain skepticism, a certain detachment, when people in my vicinity are reviling the evil and alien Other, because I feel that very easily I could become that Other, and so could the reviler.'

On Patriotism:'For people who are already in love with themselves, who worship themselves, who consider themselves more important than others, more self-esteem is not needed.  Self-knowledge would be considerably more helpful.'

On Morality:  'Everyone knows that ... goodness exists, that it can grow, or it can die, and there's something particularly disingenuous about extricating oneself from the human struggle with the whispered excuse that it's already over.'

More from Mr Shawn here:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yv0fduTDDAY&hl=en&fs=1&]

*Image above from Cinema Strikes Back

What I Learned from the Devil at the Movies

Yesterday I spent a monumentally pleasurable afternoon in the presence of Satan; in the form of the ridiculous and wonderful performance that Walter Huston (above) gives in 'The Devil and Daniel Webster', a film about American history and the mythopoetics of the Yankee soul that deserves to be compared with 'Citizen Kane' (and not just because they were both edited by Robert Wise and released by RKO within a month of each other).  It's an astonishing movie, of the kind that evokes an utterly romanticised vision of pastoral, political and religious life but manages to appear even more realistic for it.  (Story hook?  Poor farmer sells soul to the Devil in exchange for money and crops.  Doesn't make him happy.)

There's a hell of a lot more to it than the soul-selling plot point, and I'm writing something more extensive about the whole film, but for now I thought I'd post about what the movie devil looks like.  (I'm also honored to be currently involved in a project with Walter Wink, a theologian and writer who has done more than anyone I can think of to develop an understanding of the concept of Satan as a projection of human evil that is both psychologically healthy and intellectually rigorous, and avoids not only the neurosis that some religious practices can reinforce but also the societal resignation that results when people don't think clearly about evil.  The fruits of that project should be published in the next year or so; I'll post details then.  In the meantime, some of you may be interested in Wink's incredible book 'Engaging the Powers', which describes the way in which story/myth is manifested in real-world violence, and how ending the cycle of oppression depends partly on finding a new way to tell stories, and meeting violence with its opposite, rather than pouring gasoline on a fire; this book will, I believe, be read, and its themes practised, for generations to come.)

Walter might enjoy his namesake, Mr Huston's performance in 'The Devil and Daniel Webster', partly because it's played for dark laughs, and partly because it reveals the structure of all human temptation to selfishness: looking up from a sense of scarcity to find an easily-imitated set of behavior played out by someone who seems to offer jealous reward.  You have it, so I want it.  Given that 'Daniel Webster' is a myth, it has a moralistic climax - in which the victim is defended on the grounds of national pride; but the film has the maturity to end not on a note of triumph, but a warning: it could happen to you too.  Movie Satan is usually a source of fear; but while fear can teach you something,  for now, I thought I'd write about some of what I have learned from Satan in the movies.  Lessons 5-8 may present the most valuable psychological idea I've ever heard; although watching Film Number 8 may make you feel like you're in Hell.

1: Beware men with long fingernails who hire private detectives.

2: Use a reputable adoption agency.

3: Always bring a Swedish guy with you.

4: Be careful how you judge little things.

5: You'll be paying those law school debts forever.

6: The Devil only has the power you give him.

7: He really only has the power you give him.

8: Honest.

Back from Minnesota/Into the Mystic

Hi everyone - I'm back from Minnesota and the Christianity21 event.

It was great - good conversation with fascinating people from diverse backgrounds.  Great room for the main sessions too.  The radical nature of the speakers' slate - all female speakers - was handled in such a manner as to make it transcend the old arguments - this is the way it should be, a precedent has now been set, and hopefully there's no going back.  It was a genuine privilege to hear to so many fascinating people doing more than fascinating things.

I was particularly compelled by thoughts of the relationship between spirituality and the earthiness of our lives; questions of how ethnic and other sociological boundaries serve and fail to serve the attempt to build community; and the ongoing conversation about theology and sexuality.  It was a pleasure to see old friends - Jay, Mark, Denise, Shane, Tony, Doug, Spencer, Tim (in no particular order, dear friends - I love you all equally, even if I forgot to name you here :)); meet people I've read or only connected to virtually in the past - Phyllis, Steve, Alyce, Nadia and talk about the remarkable diversity of experiences we're thinking and living through.  Perhaps the most striking thing was how everyone spoke in a context of action and not just talking - while language may be all we have, we're talking about what we're actually trying to do.  As a recent export to this country, for myself it was a time of feeling welcomed among fellow travellers, all of us trying to figure out how to live in the light of a vision of God and humanity that won't let us go.  I had to leave early, and with some regret because I was enjoying myself so much.  But it was meant to be.  Trust me.

When I got home yesterday afternoon I had a quick nap before we headed out to a magnificent surprise.  Brian Blade, one of the world's finest jazz drummers, had organised a legacy concert for his father, the magnanimous and dominant presence of Pastor Brady Blade, from Shreveport Louisiana, to be recorded in concert with a 35 member choir, and a band including some of the most remarkable musicians I've seen assembled in one place.  We were in a smallish room - an old AME church in Durham now deconsecrated and the home of the Hayti Heritage Center, up close to the stage, a few paces away from the elegant choir, Pastor Blade and Brian, and among others, Buddy Miller, and Daniel Lanois, who to my ears can do no musical wrong, on either side of the production desk.  For two hours, the choir and band lifted me out of the melancholic and anxiety-ridden mood I've been in for a few weeks.  I was overwhelmed by the sheer force of honest, loving voices; by the humility of musicians who could be playing much larger venues for much larger fees deciding out of communal loyalty, respect for the elder statesman, and dedication to the music; by the astonishment of Miss Ada Small, a 79 year old three time cancer survivor who plays the piano like Nina Simone and sings like nobody's business about the struggle to get through the day in a way that leaves you wondering if it's possible that all that stuff about God's presence in the world, and care for humanity, and the endlessness of hope amid despair might just be the truest truth in the universe.

People who know me might suggest that my emotions are close to the surface, and I've no argument with that.  If I'm honest, the shadow side of that kind of psycho-spiritual terrain is that feeling happiness so deeply can sometimes go hand in hand with knowing too much about depression.  I haven't written much about this before because I don't want to be self-indulgent, or to tell you things that end up being more about my own ego than the possibilities of conversation that result in mutual benefit.  But I was so dumbfounded by what happened last night at the Hayti that it would seem to disrespect it if I kept it to myself.  Having said that, it's impossible to find a way to write about it that does it justice.  So I'll just say this, on a Monday morning, at the beginning of a week that will bring who knows what to any of us:  in the presence of people at the height of their musical powers, under the ministry of a man who appeared to be the co-mingling of a Sufi sage and a football coach, listening to a band that included a man whose sounds have been echoing in my brain for half my life, from his work producing 'One' and Dylan's 'Time out of Mind', to his solo album 'Acadie', film work, and more*, I felt more awake, more loved, more willing to see life as a gift than I have been able to do for a very long time, and perhaps ever.  There are times when artists experiencing grace permit you to join them in it.  There are times when something transcendent happens in musical performance.  There are times when something even better happens.  For five bucks in the Hayti I got to fall in love.

* And if I were in LA this Thursday night, I know where I'd end up.

Quotation of the Day

Sen. James Inhofe, R-Okla.: This just reemphasizes how this president has moved the United States from a foreign policy of strong national defense to one based on multinational cooperation. That is the kind of change that the Nobel committee believes in. This, apparently, is a criticism of Obama receiving the  Peace Prize.

Escapism Film Festival Next Weekend: You're Invited

I'm happy to announce that through my secret identity as a film critic and co-host of The Film Talk, next weekend I'll be at the Escapism Film Fest in Durham, North Carolina.

If you're a regular listener to the show or reader of this blog, you'll know that my love of cinema was catalysed at the impressionable age of 4, when my dad took my brother and I to see the darkest film ever released by Disney, 'The Black Hole'.  I was utterly captivated by the scope of the images - the spaceship might just be the biggest spaceship in the movies; for some reason the old character actors already seemed familiar, even though it was the first time I ever saw them; and I knew there was something dramatic going on, even if I couldn't quite understand the metaphysical proposals that result in [SPOILER AHOY] the mad evil scientist played by Maximillian Schell becoming possessed by the spirit (and the body) of his hench-robot, the imaginatively named 'Maximillian'.  The script's not up to much, but the whole thing looks magnificent; thirty years after I first saw 'The Black Hole', it has an irreplaceably special place in my heart, along with the adventures of Marty McFly, Clark Kent, the pirate-treasure seekers of Astoria, Oregon, and the other cinematic fantasy figures whom I connected with first by seeing them on screen, and spent much of the years 1983-1989 trying to recapture by listening to the soundtrack albums.

So thank God that the Carolina Theatre in Durham is screening these and other pictures of memory next weekend, in its glorious old and cavernous in all the best ways large screen, along with so many of the films that shaped me as a child that I can assume the programmers at the theatre were reading my diary.  Jett and I will be covering the Escapism Film Festivalin person - and if you're anywhere nearby, please join us for the opportunity to see Superman, Back to the Future, Dr Strangelove, The Goonies, Return to Oz, and the camp classic with Topol's second greatest screen performance 'Flash Gordon'.  Please join us if you can.