I seem to be an intellectual cow. I am a ruminant. I have four intellectual stomachs, and ideas flow back and forth between them. But I usually am done when I am done analyzing something, a process which can take years and years. Most of the time, I’m chewing cud.
So my daughter tells me that the stars of Stranger Things are very trendy right now. Millie Bobbie Brown (I’m guessing her mother is a bit eccentric) is talked about. I looked at some of the gossip pages with pictures of everybody, and all the speculation about what might happen season three.
And I feel how the stars of shows like this come to seem like household companions. They literally become like people you know. They are friends, and you feel you are a part of their world. This is true of many people, in any event.
There was a time when I was much younger when I would like at these things and feel jealousy. They are living the dream. It is a vast fantasy, one where most consumers of these fantasies do not readily or fully differentiate the actors from their characters, their real lives from their screen lives.
And it seems to me that many Hollywood actors really have four lives. They have the characters they play, who they pretend to be, and–at least in method acting–whose emotions they try to feel. Since their stories are rich and passionate, their characters lives are rich and passionate.
Then there are the lives of the actors and actresses themselves. There is, for many of them, seemingly a feedback loop between who they think they ought to be, as one form of rock star, and who they pretend to be. They pretend to be who they think they ought to be seen to be. In other words, they go on acting, even once the cameras stop rolling. And I think this is particularly true if, as seems to be the case, the most famous actors are really once ordinary people–kids at some point–who wanted to get rich and famous and live “the lifestyle”. They inhabit their vision of what was supposed to happen, outwardly.
Then there is who they pretend to be with intimates, with friends, with lovers. This is when they become like the rest of us.
Finally, there is who they REALLY are, and, again like the rest of us, this is often quite different from what they pretend to be even with intimates, even within the quiet confines of their own inner voices. But finding the true inner voice is made much more complicated with all the other layers, and the HABIT of being good at pretending.
Part of what got me thinking about all this was that I was talking with someone the other night about my brief non-career as an actor, where I was told by a casting professional that I was likely good enough to do commercials, but I never sent her a picture–the “head shot” I think they call it, which is a lot like an acting resume in a world where looks are vitally important. For my part, I look like a construction worker, or maybe a cop.
Anyway, this person said that it sounded like fun, and I then tried to remember why I never pursued it. Then I remembered: I have enough trouble being me. I certainly do not want to grant myself easy access to other public personas. Now, practically, I may in any event never have gotten any work. Most actors do very little. But even in principle I did not like the feeling of putting on the mood, the body language, the vocal tone, the gestalt of someone else.
But where we are as a culture is that everybody wants to be a rock star, or at least many of us. They want to be movie stars. They want to be rich and famous and beautiful and glamorous. And failing all that, they want the excitement of movies they watch, the TV shows they watch. This is pernicious.
Part of the reason Stranger Things works is that the period of adolescence remains somewhat unresolved for a great many people. It is traumatizing for many, and elements of this lurk in the unconscious for long periods of time. Add to this the mythos of Death–which is really what the Upside Down is, with the Hans Holzer book added in one scene to eliminate doubt–and you are incorporating most of the existential anxieties of most modern Americans in an interesting way that allows movement.
I myself vastly prefer an authoritative voice. I like to say “it” is “this” or “that”. I am going to start trying to change this habit though. I submit these thoughts to perhaps enrich your own, and enable new perceptions.
Here is the question: at the deepest level, what is the mythic meaning of Hollywood within the American psyche? And how is it changing, if it is?
I will add that the editorializing and politicking of the stars flows from their believing their own press. They convince themselves they are important, and going from there to a self assurance that they know everything they need to know on whatever topic they choose to weigh in on is quite easy.
This is layer 2 of my analysis, which is to say the second type of acting they do.
And I also can’t resist commenting that the archetypal rock star, Elvis, died on his toilet, more or less from severe constipation brought on by a long term abuse of mood altering drugs. And he was in his early 40’s. He was miserable, absolutely miserable. Are we really so stupid and superficial that this seems desirable? Rock star and out of control are more or less synonymous. But then ask: why are they out of control? Because they are fucking miserable. That is why. Yes, Keith Richards and Mick Jagger are still alive, but they did try for a long time to drug and fuck their way to a happiness and contentment they never found when they were younger. Perhaps one or both of them are there now. But if so, would that fact not mean that felicity and being a “rock star” are largely incompatible? Fucking only goes so far. And drugs are a way of escaping, not enhancing, life; at least, most drugs, for most people.
Ah, that is enough for now. I’m sure I’m not done, but that will do.