Monday, August 11, 2014

A little spark of madness...



It's very sad news to hear that Robin William's spark is extinguished. I've been a fan since Mork told Richie Cunningham he was "humdrum". Comedy is a function of observation and empathy--Robin Williams as an actor and comedian was a fountain of creativity and energy and made humor out of anything at all. There's something about the chaotic invention Williams was capable of--best seen in his stand-up act--that let you know that at his best, he was all perception and feeling.

And possibly also at his worst. It's a funny gift--perception. It cuts both ways, and if his humor and the joy he could produce were products of it, depression was its shadow. Humor is a fuckfinger at fate. It's our primate survival instinct longing to fling poo at the Reaper playing keepsies with our marbles and always winning. We joke about shit that scares us, and at the base of many a joke, there's a little darkness: the black behind the mirror we hold up to capture what we see.

He was a touching old soul as an actor and a fierce thing on the comedy stage. I'm not much for weepies like Patch Adams or whatever, and I guess I missed him in Disney's Aladdin because I miss a lot of Disney. But Moscow on the Hudson and The Birdcage were movies that I could pretty much always watch again. His turn in The World According to Garp outdid the material (Hi, my pseudonym is Vixen, I'm a literature major, and I do not care for John Irving--A Prayer for Owen Meany was the most pointless shit I ever read next to Jonathan Livingston Seagull. If you ever wanted to admit that yourself-go on. Your welcome.)

As a person though? You know, I think I grieve for dead comedians because there's something like a confessional about their art. It provides so many snap-shots of their minds in motion that even if you don't know a person, you feel like "I've seen his act--I know him." But one of the things I really associate Williams with is giving. His art was also about generosity of spirit. I always think of his work with Comic Relief USA and the USO, and the countless little things for Make a Wish, and all these other worthy causes. His generosity of spirit was real.

Depression is a serious disease. When the rope, the bottle, the razor, look like a life raft out of the constant hell one's mind is producing, humor flies out the window, and the brightest light has a shade drawn. What a noble mind was here o'erthrown! If you've an idea what it's like, you don't ask how he could have done it, you are grateful he held on to produce the work he had and mourn with his family and friends because it's all you can do. It's a very sad thing.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Netflix finds: Byzantium

Deep down, I think I always wanted a feminist vampire story where women were vampires and Dracula could fuck himself. Where vampires weren't  magically titled or fabulously rich, but just lived as folks do. This is what Byzantium is like.
Gemma Atherton owns as the mother/older sister "Clara" and Saoirse Ronan is luminous "Ella". It's a two hundred year old tragedy/love story. It's off-beat, and that is what is good about it. I totally recommend it.