Category Archives: kissing

On change

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I seem to have muttered a few passing thoughts on change before in this venue, but I think there are some things about change that are worth repeating: one, change is ongoing, constant, chaotic, non-linear, fractured, and predictable. In fact, I see change all around me, predictable change, and I am glad for it. I’m not sure that humans necessarily fight change, but most humans dislike change intensely, especially when it comes to social issues such as gay marriage and the death penalty, two issues which were viewed by society very differently a hundred years ago. Those are big issues about which our ideas are changing, evolving, losing their “static” values as constants within a particular society. Some people fight change tooth and nail, hoping to conserve what they perceive to be as “traditional values,” and by that I mean, or they mean, values which they perceive to be constant and unchanging. Conservation is an illusion, unless perhaps one discusses the Hebrew Ten Commandments, a broad and abstract list of values that most people would agree to without too much argument. The atheists aren’t going to like the rules about God because they don’t apply to them, but not killing and not stealing are generally accepted as pro-social behavior. If you want an orderly society, you’ve got to have a few rules because anarchy and chaos do not make good neighbors (although going to the bar with those guys is a different matter). All the rest of the social “norms” about women and sex and marriage and the death penalty are changing. The society that does not change is doomed, without a doubt, to extinction. We have changed the way we feel about slavery, interracial relationships, and alcohol. The way we deal with marijuana is probably next. What people do in the privacy of their own homes between consenting adults should be irrelevant to everyone except the consenting parties. Legislating sexual behavior is not only ludicrous, it’s superfluous. I’m not particularly sure why this idea bothers so many people unless it has something to do with their own repressions seeming less relevant and less righteous than they did yesterday. The idea of “family” also seems to be evolving these days, and I would encourage all people to be involved in a family of some sort, shape, configuration, or abstraction because that helps fend off loneliness, which of course never changes at all. I guess all the shouting makes me think of hypocrisy, and all the people who scream about “conserving” this or that value when this is not only impossible, it dooms the screamer to a life-time of irrelevance and the ghosts that haunt their own closets.

On change

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I seem to have muttered a few passing thoughts on change before in this venue, but I think there are some things about change that are worth repeating: one, change is ongoing, constant, chaotic, non-linear, fractured, and predictable. In fact, I see change all around me, predictable change, and I am glad for it. I’m not sure that humans necessarily fight change, but most humans dislike change intensely, especially when it comes to social issues such as gay marriage and the death penalty, two issues which were viewed by society very differently a hundred years ago. Those are big issues about which our ideas are changing, evolving, losing their “static” values as constants within a particular society. Some people fight change tooth and nail, hoping to conserve what they perceive to be as “traditional values,” and by that I mean, or they mean, values which they perceive to be constant and unchanging. Conservation is an illusion, unless perhaps one discusses the Hebrew Ten Commandments, a broad and abstract list of values that most people would agree to without too much argument. The atheists aren’t going to like the rules about God because they don’t apply to them, but not killing and not stealing are generally accepted as pro-social behavior. If you want an orderly society, you’ve got to have a few rules because anarchy and chaos do not make good neighbors (although going to the bar with those guys is a different matter). All the rest of the social “norms” about women and sex and marriage and the death penalty are changing. The society that does not change is doomed, without a doubt, to extinction. We have changed the way we feel about slavery, interracial relationships, and alcohol. The way we deal with marijuana is probably next. What people do in the privacy of their own homes between consenting adults should be irrelevant to everyone except the consenting parties. Legislating sexual behavior is not only ludicrous, it’s superfluous. I’m not particularly sure why this idea bothers so many people unless it has something to do with their own repressions seeming less relevant and less righteous than they did yesterday. The idea of “family” also seems to be evolving these days, and I would encourage all people to be involved in a family of some sort, shape, configuration, or abstraction because that helps fend off loneliness, which of course never changes at all. I guess all the shouting makes me think of hypocrisy, and all the people who scream about “conserving” this or that value when this is not only impossible, it dooms the screamer to a life-time of irrelevance and the ghosts that haunt their own closets.

On Don Juan (Tenorio)

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Don Juan is an old character, made famous by Tirso de Molina in his 1630 play “El burlador de Sevilla”, and there is no need to track him down as an historical figure, a task that would bring neither understanding nor resolution. More than a character from Spain’s Golden Age of drama, more than the character from an opera or a movie, don Juan is an archetype that has always been a part of human society. He is pure ego, ignoring the rules of polite society, flaunting his bad behavior in the face of ethics, morals, and law. Don Juan is a faceless creature who only cares about his own pleasure, about his own pursuit of physical delight, about getting what he wants in spite of the consequences for himself or others. From a moral perspective he is pure evil, pursuing all the women he wants to pursue, regardless of whether it is right or wrong. Society, of course, disapproves of don Juan. The dark side of don Juan is not his desire to sin or anything else that he does. The dark side of don Juan is his complete indifference to social norms, his subversion of ethical rules, and his complete disregard for conforming to order. He is an active social offender, he’s a bad boy, and he’s unrepentant about any of it. His crime is that he loves women, like many men, born under the sign of Venus. What is problematic about that love is that it is dark, profound, strong, multifaceted, and boundless, unconfined to the bounds of marriage or law. His love is chaotic, fragmented, driven by desires that are base and primal, uncontrolled, illogical, passionate, and dangerous. The masculine figure of don Juan is not about what is right or moral or even logical. His desire is timeless, wild, savage, powerful, virile, and boundless, and what makes him so dangerous is how this danger makes him attractive and desirable. Women want to be with him, and men want to be like him. Good, honest people like to reject the figure of don Juan outright, but they know they are lying to themselves and letting their repressions get the better of them. It isn’t that the average person is bad, but the repressions of an average society–an orderly society–are too wide-ranging to be really effective. We make rules and rules and rules, but for the most part, the rules are only as good as those who would willingly obey them. Don Juan is a rule-breaker of the first category. He willingly and forcefully breaks rules, flaunting his liberty in the face of those who would enforce those rules. In a sense, don Juan is about liberty and freedom, he’s about human agency and the right to decide his own course of action in the world. He is independent, powerful, and dangerous. He is the unbound face of anarchy.

On "A Midsummer Night’s Dream" @ Baylor

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If one were to write the perfect play that evokes the Greek roots of theater, that focuses on unrequited (and requited) love, that finally becomes a shambles of brilliant comic absurdity, one might write Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Baylor University, under the apt direction of Steven Pounders, is currently producing WS’s comedy/romance/homage at its Mabee theater, but never mind because the run is sold out. There are standing-room-only if you are so inclined. If you were, however, to write such a play it would have to employ an unbelievable plot, mystical (if not magical) beings that are not human, lots of love interest, a cranky mother (in-law), transformations, oneiric devices where people dream and sleep and change (their minds), lots of (un) happy couples, a cast of thousands, a dog, acrobats, and an actor in charge of playing a wall, a lion, and/or the man in the moon. Dump all of that into a cocktail shaker with some mist, lighting and sound effects, shake well, and pour into a clean glass of appropriate shape. Serve with a twist of mint (or lime zest). As far as the actions goes, anything goes, including, but not limited to a man being turned into an ass, a woman who does not get eaten by a lion, an existential wall, and lots of tree climbing. What really makes this play interesting is the atmosphere of uncontrolled (but orchestrated) chaos which creates an atmosphere of brutal irony, deep ambiguity, and profound satire. None of the lines, scenes, actors, or plot devices are what they seem to be. In other words, the absurdity of the story line is supposed to bother the audience who are riding an out-of-control theatrical roller coaster. The trick is, if you are the director, don’t let it crash, unless you are willing to let it crash. Control every muscle, every word of every line, and let it seem to crash. At the last moment, you apply the brakes just in the nick of time. This is what you get from a Steven Pounders production: sensuous physicality. His actors move like cats when they have to, die gloriously when possible, and love each other when appropriate. The ensemble of acrobats and tumblers were relentless, and the pacing of the play was breathless when it needed to be, contemplative when the words were important. I personally could have done with less screaming (a young actor thing) and less hysteria, but the entire production was so good that I forgive that. Most actors can do tragedy and romance rather well, but comedy and comedic timing are a little trickier, and there were times when the actors steamrolled some very funny stuff (not Bottom (Jeff Wittekiend), he got it right). Go slower, work on delivering the perfect punch line, the exquisite double-take, and forget about your dignity. One could, from time to time, see the actors trying to work at a slower pace, fighting with themselves. The play itself is a reflection of life itself–fragmented, non-linear, ironic, and discontinuous. Costuming and make-up were top notch, especially for the ensemble of sprites and fairies. The main set was a gloriously large tree, nicely symbolic, and hugely metaphoric. Lighting and sound were on the mark. Perhaps the only thing that needed correcting in the entire production was a program with a couple of notes about the play, WS, and something about this production. Dramaturge notes were conspicuously missing. Tip of the hat to all involved for a wonderful evening at the theater.

On Casablanca (1942, movie)

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The first time I saw this movie was in a nasty old movie theater in Madrid where the customers smoked in the theater while drinking cans of beer that they bought out of plastic tubs in the lobby from a guy who looked a hundred and six, but was really forty-five. The year was 1980, and the last vestiges of the old regime were still lurking around in dark corners like wild dogs. The print of the movie was horrendous–scratched, patched and worn out. There were subtitles in Spanish that only proved that the person translating the dialogue didn’t know English, and he didn’t want to learn English, either. So I sat there in the dark with my three cans of beer and watched Rick and Ilsa fall in love in Paris, I watched her walk into his gin-joint in Casablanca, I watched Rick tell Ilsa to get on that plane and support her husband because “I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.” He’s in tears, she’s in tears, and you know they will probably never, ever see each other again. She walks with her husband to the plane knowing that that part of her life is over. I know the film was made on cardboard sets in Hollywood. The movie theater stunk, the film was worn out, the beer was warm, but none of that mattered. I was enthralled by what I consider to be one of the top ten movies of all time. Ilsa is beautiful, erotic, passionate, and crazy-in-love with two very similar guys. Rick is cynical and tough, believes in nothing, trusts no one, but he’s a romantic and a sentimentalist. The rest of the ensemble is brilliant as they orbit the stars. The entire film is bathed gently in a thousand tones of gray that wrap the characters gently in their soft shadows. Gray is so pervasive in this film that the entire final scene is played out against a thick fog which completely erases any need for scenery at all. Finally, the bad guys have been thwarted, the good guys have flown away on a plane, and the hero and his plucky sidekick walk off into the foggy night. The ending is not neat, a million threads are left hanging, but the cynic has conquered his cynicism just a bit and perhaps has even found a little bit of himself again. Anyone claiming their nationality to be “Drunkard” can’t have too many ideals or dreams left. I left the theater smelling of stale cigarette smoke, rancid beer, and old sweat, but I knew I had witnessed something very special, and every time I see Casablanca now, I admire it that much more. As Rick would say, “I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue.”