A Self-Absorbed Generation

Lauren Bacall, one of Hollywood’s legendary leading ladies, recently passed away. Those of us, who have appreciated her work over the decades, felt a sense of loss – a passing of a golden era in Hollywood that will never be revisited, at least not in today’s world of shallow sensibilities.

“Who?” was the general reaction by today’s younger generation, when Bacall’s passing was mentioned. They didn’t have the slightest idea, not even those who professed to be film buff’s with large DVD collections. And why didn’t they know about her or the names of those stars she worked alongside, many of them now long gone? Because, as it was explained to me, “They weren’t part of my generation, so why should I care?”

So, why should I care?

Quite some time back, when video stores still existed, I remember trying to rent a movie with my then girlfriend, now wife, and her younger brothers. Again, the restriction was, it had to be something that was made during their lifetime, as anything before that couldn’t possibly matter. I remember picking up Al Pacino’s Serpico, but once again, this Sidney Lumet directed feature was released in 1973, and these supposed film fans were born in the late 80’s (even going as far back as a decade before they were born was apparently a problem in their conceited little minds).

Not too long ago I was playing a movie trivia game with my brothers-in-law and their now wives and the answer to one of the questions was James Cagney. I remember the complete look of incredulity on the face of one of their wives when she uttered, “How do you know that?” I have to admit that it saddened me to realize that someone as talented as Cagney could be forgotten.

I’m not of Lauren Bacall and James Cagney’s generation. By the rules of this younger generation’s belief system, I really shouldn’t know about either of those two actors, nor Gary Cooper, Dean Martin, William Powell, Errol Flynn, The Marx Brothers, and countless other entertainers whose work has entertained me over the years, along with the work of those who are my contemporaries in the entertainment field.

So, how do I know about them? Because I wasn’t raised to believe that it only mattered if it was part of my lifetime. My friends and I, we had our generational stars, both in film and music, but we weren’t raised to be a self-absorbed generation; we actually paid attention to our parents and grandparents, and allowed them to introduce us to those who entertained them in their youth. My Mother introduced me to The Marx Brothers and my Father to Abbott & Costello, and I can’t thank them enough. With my parent’s I watched the Thin Man series, Humphrey Bogart, John Wayne, and many others I can’t list here without creating a ridiculously long list.

In our teens we did have a bit of conceit regarding our own performers, but we still paid attention, and when we gained the maturity needed, we came to appreciate the efforts of those in the past. As a screenwriter, I’d say I benefited more from watching the movies of old, where they didn’t rely on quick cuts, special effects and all the bells and whistles to entertain, but on a well-crafted story and excellent dialogue (that’s not to say they didn’t made duds, but when they did it well, it was magical).

This new self-absorbed generation has taken their indifference further in how they relate on a human level. Digital media has taken over many of our lives, but for those of us who were around before it was a reality, we were taught how to communicate and conduct ourselves in polite society. Thanks to my Father’s outgoing ways, I can walk into any situation, with any generation and start up a conversation and relate to whomever I’m speaking with. The beauty of this, and not hiding behind electronic devices, is that I’ve discovered some truly interesting individuals with wonderful tales to tell. That little old man, sitting off in the park by himself, that you’re writing-off as being irrelevant, may just have lived a life, and gained a perspective, that’s worth listening to.

As creative individuals, my wife and my life are full of highs and lows; we’ve yet to truly break through to a point where we know we’ll be comfortable on a permanent basis – and we live with that, as we’re living the life we want. During those lows, we often take jobs to help pay the bills; recently we’ve been looking, but have found this new generation’s reliance on electronics and a digital lifestyle has taken the ‘personal’ out of job hunting. No one wants to talk to a job applicant; they just want them to send their resume over the Internet. My wife sent off a resume to a company and figured, as we’d be passing by this small company anyways, that she might just personally drop off a copy of her resume. The young receptionist looked dumbfounded by this, commenting that you had to apply online. When my wife pointed out she was passing by anyways and thought she’d just drop it in, the young receptionist had no idea what to do. My wife described a moment of awkwardness between the two of them, and left with her resume still in hand. At one time in life, my wife would have been credited with taking the initiative, and the resume would have been accepted, but not today, where personal interaction is not desired, but possibly feared. Why pick up a phone and actually talk to someone in person when you can text and email? These are means of communicating which remove the horror of actually having to talk with another live human being.

The process of digital job hunting has taken the ‘personal’ out of the process. My Father was a very successful salesman working for wholesalers. He had that knack when it came to communication, and even when he wasn’t selling, had the ability to communicate with others. It got to a point in life where I wondered if I could go anywhere without my Father knowing someone? What I didn’t know was that he loved people and loved meeting and talking to new people. If he was looking for a job today, based on his writing skills, he’d be hard pressed to get an interview; an impersonal resume over the Internet could in no way convey his true abilities. Dad was the kind of guy you had to meet to understand him and what he was capable of doing for you and your company.

In my lifetime, with the younger generation in my life, I’ve been confronted by the whole ‘social anxiety’ thing, in which a young person is finding it hard to get out there into the world; intelligent, personable young people, who are too reliant on the sheltered world digital media has provided them, and are afraid of interaction in the real world, person to person. I can understand this, as I was an extremely shy kid. According to my parents, when I started school, I hid under the teacher’s desk for a couple of weeks. I was shy growing up; it was hard for me at parties and such, but I learned to overcome that. Pursuing a career as a journalist certainly helped, as it was my job to meet new people every day and communicate with them, getting them to reveal information to me. I also got into some rock ‘n’ roll photography and found myself standing in front of crowds of 20,000 or more people trying to get the shot I needed for publication. I put myself in a situation where I either overcame my fears and anxiety or I’d fail.

In this world of digital media and electronics, I believe we’re fooling ourselves into believing we’re communicating better. Yes, there is communication, but we’re also hiding away. Not everything in life can be captured by the impersonal formation of words in an email or a text. In many ways, we’re removing the true personality from the equation; sure, you can get some personality into these forms of communication, but it only tells a small fraction of the true story, especially if it’s communication between two individuals who don’t know one another.

This digital generation are fooling themselves into believing they’re communicating better, when in fact they’re working towards isolating themselves more and more from the true beauty of the world, which is getting out there and talking one-on-one to your fellow human beings; the communication is so much better one-on-one and you’ll enrich your life in ways digital media will never allow.

As for who is Lauren Bacall? It’s time for this self-absorbed generation to take their heads out of the sand and realize the world that came before them mattered and has a great deal of beauty to offer up to them if they’re only willing to take notice. Discover the films of Lauren Bacall and you’ll be introduced to the films and careers of many others whom you’ll be glad you found. The past is a beautiful place with a lot to offer, as I’m sure will be the future, just so long as we remember it’s the human element that really makes life worth living – friends, family and even those acquaintances and chance meetings that enliven and enrich our lives.

Dark Dreaming...Embracing the Evil Within

“And now, let the casual reader beware; the pages that follow comprise of the most obscene story that has ever been told since the world began, a bible of atrocities unequalled amongst either the ancients or the moderns. Imagine that every honest pleasure permitted by that beast which men speak of, though they do not truly understand it, and which they call Nature—imagine that any such pleasure were banished from this compendium of evil, and that if you should by some chance detect a trace of them it will only be because they were besmirched by some crime, or juxtaposed with the most diabolical of iniquities.”

So warned Donatien Alphonse Francois, otherwise known as The Marquis de Sade in the Forward of his notorious book, 120 Days of Sodom; written over 37 days in 1785 when the Marquis resided in France’s equally notorious prison, the Bastille. On July 14, 1789, at the height of the French Revolution, the Bastille was stormed by citizens and looted. The Marquis had been moved a few days before the storming to Charenton, an insane asylum where he eventually died in 1814. Surprisingly, the manuscript survived (proof that literature, if given a chance will find a way to live on, despite the arrogance of man via bans, book burnings, or any other attempts to stifle its existence).

Proud of his writing, the Marquis described his book as “the most impure tale that has ever been told since our world began.”

Considering the Marquis’s own words and analysis of his works over the decades and centuries, is it any wonder the book could be said to provide inspiration? Dark inspiration, but inspiration nonetheless.

Feminist Andrea Dworkin described his books as “vile pornography”; a piece of writing featuring the worst in man, from rape and torture to murder, and all of it enthusiastically told in detail by the author. Although I can’t find the specific quote, one scholar stated, and I’m paraphrasing here, that the level of the books vileness and debauch alone made it worthy of being read and considered as serious literature.

The Marquis de Sade is a man whose very existence inspired the word “sadism.” He wrote with relish about the darker nature of humankind and did so unapologetically. He is not an easy read, but that darkness mentioned above, has provided entertainment to some degree or another for readers for a very long time. Some may read and be appalled, while some might be titillated.

In exploring the dark side of literature, what is too far? More importantly, if one is embracing writing about our darker natures, should they not push the boundaries?

During his lifetime and after his death, the Marquis found himself at the center of a great deal of debate and attempted censorship. In more recent times, the author Bret Easton Ellis found himself at the center of controversy when he dared to publish his serial killer novel, American Psycho in 1991, a book with both graphic violence and sexual content. Ellis told his tale in the first person through the eyes of Manhattan serial killer Patrick Bateman, and while before it, many books had been written about serial killers, American Psycho hit a nerve, outraged many and resulted in the author being called a misogynist.

Shortly after its publication and the brouhaha it created, Ellis responded to the criticisms in The New York Times stating, “I had no idea the novel would provoke the reception it’s gotten, and I still don’t quite get it...But then I was not trying to add members to my fan club. You do not write a novel for praise, or thinking of your audience. You write for yourself; you work out between you and your pen the things that intrigue you.”

Critics and readers questioned Ellis’s humanity, wondering how he could write such stuff; that such evil could reside within him. How could he think of such disgusting things? I read American Psycho in 1991, but not right away; so when I was reading it, news hit the airways on July 22, 1991 that a Jeffrey Dahmer had been apprehended. Dahmer’s story was one of rape, murder, dismemberment, necrophilia and cannibalism – and it wasn’t a tale of fiction but horribly true.

It all suddenly made sense to me; where had Bret Easton Ellis found inspiration for the murders committed by his fictional protagonist Patrick Bateman? By being well read.

Whether visiting the ‘True Crime’ section of your local book store or merely perusing history books, there is no limitation to discovering the numerous ways and means in which humans have found to torment and murder one another. A simple visit to the Tower of London and a journey through its macabre museum of wax dummies, demonstrating the creative ways used to kill, is merely a small sampling of how the human imagination and our dark desire to hate and kill can make for the most perverse and repulsive results.

“At bottom, you see, we are not Homo sapiens as all,” said Stephen King, in a quote pulled from Goodreads.com. “Our core is madness. The prime directive is murder. What Darwin was too polite to say, my friends, is that we came to rule the earth not because we were the smartest, or even the meanest, but because we have always been the craziest, most murderous motherfuckers in the jungle...”

Now horror writers are often given a little more leeway when presenting violence, seeing as based on the genre, we accept that it could never be real. While a possessed car named Christine is highly entertaining, and her tale will keep you on the edge of your seat, we needn’t fear that we could run into that scenario in our everyday lives. Writing about the depravity and murderous desires of humankind, in the realm of serial killers, however, is possible, and God forbid could touch or cross our lives, if we’re unlucky enough that fate has that in store for us.

So how far do we take it? Do we try and sanitize it, keeping the killing in our thrillers and novels within the realms of acceptability, much like on TV shows like Bones, Criminal Minds, and many others too numerous to mention? Or did Bret Easton Ellis have it right? If you’re going to write about the ugliness of human’s do so with abandon—make the reader uncomfortable with the entertainment they have chosen for the evening. Is that not the writer’s obligation? Should not reading about murder make us uncomfortable?

I recently checked out a forum on Goodreads in which American Psycho was discussed. The general consensus was that the book was horrible...or should I say repulsive? The way I look at it, the book elicited strong reactions from those readers and there is no rule that says that art is only art and of value so long as it pleases. Like it or not, understand what the author was attempting or not, the fact it brought about such strong emotions, means the words on the page worked.

In a day and age where writing what he did could have gotten him executed, The Marquis de Sade elected to either purge or embrace his demons, depending on what your interpretation of his character is, if you’ve read any of the numerous biographies. In telling his story, Bret Easton Ellis decided not to censor himself, but to put the ugliness of his character on the printed page, pulling no punches, as they say.

I’ve faced the same dilemma, seeing how I’ve embraced the thriller genre as the core of my writing efforts. How far am I willing to go?

Growing up, I loved comedy. My heroes were John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, Bill Murray and their contemporaries. If I could pen a script like Animal House, Stripes or Ghostbusters, making people laugh, I’d count that as a solid victory. And I do write comedy. Recently I’ve given two sketches to a producer and comedian to be filmed for their website and YouTube channel. I’ve also written several comedy scripts – the hardest of them all to write. As I recently said to a producer, it’s much easier to make someone cry than to make them laugh.

Despite the comedy that lurks within me, there also lies a darkness that I can’t explain, or at least a fascination with the dark nature of humans and what we’re capable of committing. The writings of The Marquis de Sade have inspired the current novel I’m writing, The Marquis Mark. In embracing that inspiration, I also promised myself that like the Marquis, and many others who have written words that have unnerved readers, I wouldn’t hold back, but dare to put the ugliness on the page. There are many moments during the process when I’ve been uncomfortable, and at least one chapter, that I hesitated to write as it pushed the boundaries of what I was comfortable with. I am not writing a book to shock, but embracing an idea that has been brewing in my mind for quite some time, and has finally decided it was time to be released.

The first draft of The Marquis Mark is almost finished, but it will be quite some time still before I can make it available. There are the inevitable re-writes to polish the manuscript; I’ve found the advice regarding putting a manuscript away for a period of time before revisiting it, is extremely helpful in making it ready for reader’s eyes. Whether it will ever find a readership, I can’t say, but if it does, and if in reading parts of it you find yourself feeling a little uncomfortable or challenged, please dear reader, don’t ask yourself how can the author write such things? How could is mind come up with such dark ideas? The truth is actually very simple, I’m well read.

In ending a blog on dark dreamers, it only seems fitting to quote one of the originals – if not the original – who unnerved his readers with his dark tales, Edgar Allen Poe: “There are moments when even to the sober eye of reason, the world of our sad humanity may assume the semblances of Hell.”

A Longstanding Inspiration

I'm not good at naming things. In my past life as a screenwriter, I could write the screenplay, but when it came to titling the project, Writer's Block would descend upon my thoughts and I'd come up blank. When confronted with naming my blog, I reacted like a deer caught in headlights.

What witty play on the word writing or author could I come up with? (That is assuming I am capable of witty thoughts).

The answer? None.

As I considered this dilemma, for some reason Abraham Lincoln came to mind. I'm not sure what grade I was in, but it was one of the earlier ones, that I came across a children's book recounting the life of the 16th President of the United States. The story of his allowing an elderly Native American to cross through his camp unmolested when he was a Captain in the Black Hawk War, inspired me, and I began seeking out books on the man, and still do to this day.

In exploring the life of Abraham Lincoln, eventually you're going to come across analysis of his writing (and, hopefully, you've also taken the time to read his scribblings). Lincoln was a master with words and is responsible for some brilliant speeches, including The Gettysburg Address.

Knowing this, it also dawned on me that he was a man of compassion. In the late 1970's I read Stephen B. Oates With Malice Toward None, a single volume biography of Lincoln. Oates picked out the perfect title to encapsulate Lincoln, a man who didn't want to gloat as the war came to an end, but wanted to rebuild America and repair the emotional damage that had divided the nation. With Malice Toward None are some powerful words.

And there I had the title for my blog. It pays respect to a brilliant man, and it also defines my own philosophy in life. As I hope I find the inspiration to continue to blog, I plan to be free in commenting - in conveying my opinion or thoughts. It is only one man's opinion, and while I know I've been wrong in the past (my wife has pointed this out), I do so with malice toward none, but the desire to contribute, maybe educate, hopefully inspire, but more importantly, learn a bit about myself, my strengths, my failings, and hopefully, simply entertain.