Let’s Get Serious
Or Am I The Only One Who Cares?
I suppose this essay starts this past Sunday, Nov. 24, 2013. I am at a fundraiser for a local venue, albeit not for charitable reasons. They were doing a showing of “2001: A Space Odyssey” and Keir Dullea, star of the movie, would be talking afterwards.
The room was cold because they hadn’t yet figured out how to work the heat, it was intermission, and I stayed seated in my chair, texting my girlfriend about some of the movie-goers. The problem was, I had never heard so much laughter when watching “2001,” although this was, admittedly, the largest group I had seen it with. Maybe I was missing something.
During the entire “Dawn of Man” sequence I had been treated to a lively debate over whether or not those were real monkeys (as opposed to chimps, or even apes). In the distance, there was one person audibly drumming on their feet. I had never been a part of such a bad audience.
But before the “Intermission” was over, I was to be shocked again.
As we all know, Stanley Kubrick, director of the movie, was one of the most intentional artists in all of cinema. Almost nothing escaped his grasp and the movie screen could be bent and molded to his vision. This includes the “Intermission” screen, over which a György Ligeti piece plays.
Common theory holds it that this is Kubrick’s attempt to link the movie screen to the Monolith. Ligeti’s music plays almost exclusively when the Monolith is on screen, and as a rectangular black box (like the Monolith), it is not hard to find credence in this conclusion.
As I am sitting there enjoying the newfound warmth that is gushing out of the heat vents, and as the Ligeti piece is building in tone, from somewhere in the crowd another black rectangle rises on the screen: it is a man’s iPad. He is making shadow puppets. The crowd erupts in laughter as the intermission ends.
Alone, I am shouting silently: Do you have no respect for this masterpiece? Do you not understand what is taking place on screen? Don’t you know this is serious?
Over the years I have been said to be mature for my age, an old soul, and plenty of other adages along those lines. But I’ve never bought into that. I simply have an ability to take things seriously when need be.
So, lets go back in time, about a week now. It’s 10 in the morning on a tuesday, Nov. 19, and I have 3 screens open on my computer, and one on my phone just in case. I am buying tickets from Ticketmaster.
This was the initial pre-order for Arcade Fire’s upcoming tour behind their excellent new album “Reflektor.” My girlfriend is a huge fan, and with the release of this newest album, I’ve been coming back around to their music (loved “Funeral,” didn’t like “Neon Bible,” liked “The Suburbs”), especially with James Murphy producing some of the tracks.
I’m excited to see them live because I hear they put on a great live show, something which is very rare these days. And maybe it’s my old soul, but most of the great performances I’ve seen have been from bands that have been around for more four decades or more. Leonard Cohen will bury most new acts in energy exuded, Dylan can still incite that rattling effect most people heard at Newport when he picked up the electric guitar, and Elvis Costello will still rip your heart out. Nobody (I mean nobody) can hold a candle to Tony Bennett’s performance of “Fly Me To The Moon.”
With tickets purchased, I began reading that people were upset with the band. Why? Well, because they asked that the audience get dressed up for their concert. In their own words: “Please wear formal attire or costume.”
A sadness fell upon me when reading many of the assaults on the band referenced their “artsiness.” Some of the commentators didn’t think an arena tour merited a dress code. Some didn’t think the band did. I even saw someone on facebook say that Yes would never ask their fans to dress up. Yes sucks, so no, they wouldn’t.
But LCD Soundsystem did.
It was April 2, 2011, and I was walking towards Madison Square Garden with a friend, a co-worker, and her friend. We were on our way to see LCD Soundsystem play for the last time.
Months earlier, I had struggled getting tickets to see this show. And if it wasn’t for a friend who had somehow managed to get Ticketmaster to find tickets, I would not have been able to go (as you can imagine, I still am indebted to this individual: he could have made a lot of money if he sold them elsewhere).
The band requested that, appropriate for a last show, everyone wear black and white. So on the night of, the four of us are walking and we were dressed in black and white, mostly. And with the whole of MSG packed to the brim with hipsters, everyone else was wearing black and white, mostly.
I’m not saying that because we were all wearing black and white the show was amazing: but the crowd was amazing because of it. There was a subconscious unity to the room that you don’t usually get at rock concerts, aside from the obvious bit that you all came to see this one particular band.
But it was great, and it was fun, and everyone was dressed in black and white, mostly.
When I see Arcade Fire in March, I’ll probably wear some thrifted suit, hopefully a tuxedo. It’ll probably be just warm enough here in the Northeast to merit walking around with just a suit coat on. It will certainly be warm enough in the venue.
I’m sure that many fans will also be wearing formal attire and costume. But I am also sure that many will not be wearing formal attire or costume. And that’s fine, but I think they are misjudging the seriousness of the request. This isn’t so much lets get dressed up so we can sip champagne and waltz, but rather lets get dressed up and look awesome listening to some great rock and roll.
And that’s the problem with a general lack of seriousness, you can’t judge what is and what isn’t serious.
I saw this problem last night, Tuesday, Nov. 26 in New York City at Cort Theater. I was there to see “Waiting For Godot” by Samuel Beckett, a play second only to “Hamlet” in greatness.
As I had an interview in the city earlier in the day, I was dressed in a suit. My girlfriend had too dressed up for the occasion, silk shirt, fancy jewelry, and freshly painted nails.
Both of us, old-fashioned as we are, were aghast at some of the sartorial choices the audience made. We certainly didn’t expect everyone to be wearing what we chose to, but we didn’t expect to see sweatpants either. Some made Vladimir and Estragon look downright sophisticated.
Given that both Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellan are huge movie stars, we understood that the audience perhaps would be there for the celebrity rather than the playwright, but this was Broadway. And certainly we were not the only ones who knew the “rules”.
Also knowing that this is a “tragicomedy” we knew the laughter would come, but as with “2001,” it seemed deeply misplaced at times. Like taking a selfie at a funeral. Or wearing sweatpants to a funeral.
Our misery grew only deeper as the play was closing down to it’s last lines, Estragon (McKellan) is sleeping and Vladimir (Stewart) is wondering what in the hell he is doing. “I can’t go on,” he shouts, to audience laughter. This line hit my heart with such a thud that I barely noticed the guffaws before Vladimir wonders “what have I said?”
On the train back to New Haven we weren’t the only people in our car rifling through Playbills or talking of theater. A group of women was loudly reiterating her amazement at some special effect from the Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall. I noticed a couple in front of us had seen “Wicked” because their playbills were left on the seat.
It was the couple in the row opposite ours that really, finally got to me. They had seen a production of “Newsies,” a movie bad enough to be turned into a musical (see also: “Legally Blonde”). I waited for them to leave and then launched into a tirade against them personally and into the audience at large who sees crap like that.
I was angry. Angry that people were laughing at inappropriate moments in my beloved “Godot,” that people were making a mockery of “2001,” and that people were launching their own tirades at the thought of dressing up for a concert. And it was in the middle of my spiel that I stopped and realized what the problem was: Entertainment.
Art and Entertainment are two very different things. And because we have been so inundated with Entertainment, we have no measure to take Art seriously anymore.
It is the reason why people are mad at Arcade Fire, because Entertainment has no right to ask you to get dressed up. But Art does. And there’s a reason why a Rodin sculpture is on the cover of their new album.
And there’s a reason why Kanye is mocked at almost every turn. Because he is trying to make Art, not Entertainment. And we as a culture don’t know how to take that, so it is laughed at and scorned.
We are so used to seeing aliens blow up buildings and eat reese’s pieces that we don’t know where to file “2001.” Even when “The Simpsons” parodied the opening sequence, they did so with an earnestness that obviously appreciated the depth of Kubrick’s vision. And still made it funny!
We are so far removed from being able to be serious that Vladimir exults that he could no longer go on living, that suicide is now an option, and we laugh. Life and Death are meh. The gravedigger has on his forceps.
I don’t know if we will ever get back Art from the grips of Entertainment. It’s not up for me to decide. But I can ask (beg, plead, etc.) that we try to use the appropriate measure of seriousness in our lives.
There is a time and place for entertainment (which at no point will I argue is bad, because it’s not, it’s just different). There is a time and place for seriousness.
Can we get dressed up when we go someplace for a special event? Wear your sweatpants to a football game. Can we appreciate a fine movie with the same intensity that was put into its making? Make shadow puppets during Transformers. Can we not lump Mad Men in with Breaking Bad? Can we separate Arcade Fire and Mumford & Sons?
And for the love of god, do not take selfies at funerals. (Update: This goes for the President as well).
Thanks For Reading & Please Recommend! Here are some of my other essays on: Bob Dylan, Old Boy, The Rite of Spring, George Harrison.
