How Many Surrealists Does It Take To Screw In a Light Bulb?

So a while back, I was working with some of my students on a piece that was clearly non-linear. There was a clear divide in the group, but of course I only managed to hear the half that was frustrated and confused – the half that didn’t want anything to do with all this weird, arty bullshit, the half that wanted to get laughs and get paid. They wanted an explanation for what was going on onstage – and, hell, they deserved one – but what could I say? I didn’t understand it, either. And I’d usually end up going home equally frustrated.

So I went home and started channel-surfing and (astoundingly) what should be on but Institute Benjamenta? I used to be obsessed with the brothers Quay, but I hadn’t seen this movie of theirs in years. I stumbled into the middle, but it only took a few minutes for me to get swept up into the – "action" isn’t the right word, "story" isn’t the right word – but whatever it was, I was captivated.

Every twenty seconds, there’d be another image, another transition, another big ball of ideas with no explanation behind it – and, Jesus, it was liberating. The sense that I’d been obsessing over what people would think of a quirky line of dialogue – and to see someone who just didn’t care, who would create movement for no other reason than the fact that it was sort of interesting to look at, who would cry so unapologetically to fuck narrative, fuck reality – why be yoked to reality when the world of the imagination is so much more compelling?

And I envied it, too – it’s a courage I’ve never possessed. Even in my most expressionistic pieces, I’ve never been able to fully abandon fairly conventional plotting and characterization. But the absolute triumph of form over content is something that’s truly breathtaking to witness.

(Tangential thought – reviewing shows for the Minnesota Fringe this year, and particularly pieces like Audiographic Synesthesia, I was struck by how far modern surrealism has drifted from its roots – that originally, it was an expression of rage, of contempt for the rising middle-class social mores, a scream of disgust against everything that they held to be sacred. Now, it’s come full-circle: surrealism has been fully embraced by the middle class, something that rich white kids churn out to demonstrate their sophistication. It’s truly disheartening to witness.)

So I’m a Julie Taymor fan, for many of the above reasons. I guess I’m surprised by the degree of hostility in Andrew’s reviews – at worst, her movies could be viewed as silly, pointless intellectual exercises. I don’t really get the outright anger directed towards her work. That kind of rage is reserved, for me, for work that I find ideologically repugnant – so I suspect that I’m not grasping the fullness of your point.

I’m in no position to defend Across the Universe (not having seen it), but I can say that the appeal of Titus for me wasn’t simply some kind of cerebral masturbation – it’s the fact that I was actively moved, consistently startled, frequently laughing and always engaged. It’s certainly possible that this is because I’m bringing something to viewing the movie that’s not inherent in the movie itself, but that’s still a valid part of my viewing experience, no?

I can’t help thinking of the actual lyrics of Across the Universe:

words are flowing out

like endless rain into a paper cup

they slither while they pass

they slip away across the universe

pools of sorrow waves of joy

are drifting through my opened mind

possessing and caressing me...

What do those words mean? I have no fucking idea. And the answer, I suspect, is that they don’t mean anything. They’re a collection of sounds, seemingly random but far from arbitrary. I’ve listened to the song hundreds of times and I’m not tired of it yet. I can’t articulate exactly what it is that keeps dragging me back to Taymor’s work, any more than I can articulate exactly what it is that the lyrics to this song mean. But I know that they resonate with me on some level beyond language, that they both evoke something very real for me, something I’ve experienced many times before.

Just not when I’m awake.