Having now watched the movie Birdman,
it sure has got me thinking about some, perhaps, not so obvious
connections.
There is a two sided consideration that
sticks out for me in this story. Something beyond the usual aspects
of an actor who, even though is suggest as being something more than
nominally human, is struggling with the relative values of what he
has, and has not achieved, throughout his career; juxtaposed, of
course, with a personal life that is a shambles. That is not only the
consideration of what makes for excellence in the craft of acting
itself, but what gives this endeavor value in the first place.
This idea takes prominence not only
because the main character (played by Michael Keaton) wants to be
taken seriously, after having gained financial success for portraying
a super hero, but also because of the tension that arises between him
and another actor brought in as a last minute replacement for someone
Keaton's character found lacking.
The new player (played by Edward
Norton), is a fairly established Broadway name with some serious
street cred. An actor who quickly demonstrates that he can act. The
problem, however, quickly becomes clear that this guy is a “Method”
actor at the essence of extreme. He makes becoming the person
portrayed the only real aspect of his otherwise pathetic life. And,
as the rest of the cast that Keaton's character has employed to make
this play happen, recoils at the Norton's characters behavior, both
on and off the stage, you start to wonder about what this says
concerning the craft of acting.
What has happened to such a time
honored, creative endeavor, over the centuries, to have brought it to
the point where the story, and the themes of that story, pale in
importance to the fidelity of how it is presented. And more to the
point, that it is, as much as anything else, a competition to see who
is best at being someone else. A competition that evolved the
competitors to the point of no longer seeing themselves as people
working a craft as professionals, but as just rewritable wetware
waiting for the next persona to assume completely.
The answer to that question is, it
seems to me, quite obvious. This is so because portrayal is a
commodity now pure and simple. Story may still have a place to one
degree or another, but the simple fact of the matter is that
fidelity, and the quick fix impact that multi sensory fidelity can
bring to the table of commodity, and the inherent competition that
surrounds all aspects of commodity, makes this absolutely mandatory.
A fact that the movie “The Congress” made only too depressingly
clear.
What resonates for me now, however, in
this context is how this example of commodity and competition
demonstrates another facet of what those two elements do the human
condition. Not only do we all now behave in everyday interaction as
actors on a state of a sort (secretly wishing we had real-time
monitors to keep track of how we were coming across—which I'm sure
that Google and their ilk will provide us with shortly), but we
consume ourselves with the competition of who is the most admired; a
thing quite apart from the relative notion of what is the best.
In this context views are the primary
thing that matters as far as admiration is concerned. Big view
numbers can may times automatically equate to admiration whether the
reaction to the content is good or bad on the whole. Being the best
in one fashion or another still carries weight of course, but total
numbers, and the all important demographic, are what most concern the
purveyors of commodity.
The problem, though, is that having a
“most admired,” as well as the “the best” in a more general
sense of demonstrable skill, plays so well into branding. Attaching
by association an implied aspect of one to the other. And because
this has become an all encompassing, immersive aspect of everyday
life, we hardly notice anymore how much of an effect it can have on
the choices we make. That being the case, those being so crowned,
however briefly, give us our main sense of what truly being valued
is; of what is the bottom line for being relevant. The rest of us,
toiling away in whatever small part of the machine that constitutes
production, commodity, and consumption, are left to try and convince
ourselves that, whatever goals those singular tasks allow us to
achieve, it has to be enough to continue treading along; working,
screwing, consuming, defecating, and just showing up so as to keep it
all going.
Is it any wonder that people have
resorted to doing the dumbest, or cruelest, or most destructive
things simply to be noticed? Is it any wonder that, even if you get
paid enormous sums for doing whatever, you can still feel completely
irrelevant? Not really appreciated because, in the sense that it now
has become understood as all that matters, you are not at all real.
That this sense can be, supposedly, satiated only by having a place
to stage really big view numbers.
And thus do we see the advantages of
becoming a brand that everyone recognizes. With that kind of labeling
you can be anywhere without having to act at all. You can assume the
validation of whatever audience you might find yourself in front of
because the persona has been established. You can relax. Just go
through the motions and the lines already scripted and bask in the
new real.
The bottom line for me is this: A day
will have to come when we recognize the relativity of being
marginally better at any given point in time, at what ever ability
you might care to consider. Testing ourselves against each other can
be a very useful, and healthy thing, certainly as it helps to
encourage aspiring to be better. Saying that, however, does not in
any way preclude the acceptance that there can always be too much of
any good thing. In this context it has always seemed to me that the
most courageous of us are exactly the “also rans.” For never let
us never forget that without them there can be no winner in the first
place; a fact that we lose sight of at our collective peril.
A society, or a culture for that
matter, doesn't live or die by its “winners.” It survives and
prospers by the quality of grit in its foundation. The kind of grain
of its granules in other words. We get a good grain in that sense
when we work the best balance of giving each individual a chance to
achieve not only personal goals, but locally recognized goals
important to the community. And it seems to me that the best way to
do that is to set things up so that absolutely clear that everyone is
needed to keep the community going. Once you have that as a basis to
work from you can then add on layers of additional recognition for
useful areas of ability competition (as in local, regional and
above). Recognition that has nothing to do with branding or the
market mentality that goes with it. The kind of friendly competition
that would emphasize the creation of items, or methods, to help the
home community, as well as others, live more effective and enjoyable
lives. A real “win-win” for everyone.
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