It's been a little quiet of late on the ole Hell front. When you're collaborating on a project, obviously there are moments that look, smell and feel like a brick wall.
But no, messieurs-dames, they are not brick walls. Maybe foam. While my good colleague is touring Europa and the Americas, I thought that in the interim I could share my half-formed ideas and perhaps see how they might fit into our little puzzle of awesome.
The Zonkeys
When I spent time in London...Ok, that is just the wankiest way to start a sentence ever. When I was in London and bored inside my tiny little hotel room in Victoria (which I loved, by the way), I saw a news report on Zoos on the Gaza Strip that had been affected by the conflict. Because it's getting harder to get animals, some of them have had to resort to alternatives. Besides the usual black market and smuggling ideas, they decided that if they couldn't get zebras then maybe they could get some Wella hair dye and some donkeys...
This in itself is an awesome idea. Then I thought about a traumatic experience I had at a zoo involving donkeys (let me just say this: when a donkey licks your shoulder, run.) and felt it could form the basis for an exploration of Samantha's relationship with her mother. In a a series of strange dreams, Sam could experience her childhood memories of her mother in an abstract way and after perhaps consulting Cleo, understand her and her mother's strained relationship. Sam wants to be closer to her parents and have the childhood she sees in film and television, but everytime she tries, she remembers that her parents are indifferent and it hurts all over again, forcing her to seek new familial arrangements. Like her new flatmates.
I had the idea that in one of these dream, Sam's mum Diane would take her to a zoo. It's a darkened room with cages. The lighting gives it a film noir feel. They wander over to cages and Sam finds that all the animals are actually just people in animal suits. They look bored. Diane leads her over to someone dressed as a zebra and makes her pose near it. Sam is afraid, but her mother forces her. The camera clicks and Sam wakes up. On her night-stand is a photo of a little girl posing with a zebra.
WWCPD (What Would Camille Paglia Do)?
I am very publicly in favour of Lady Gaga. I never used to be. I thought she was a dickhead and her fame would be about as long as one of her hemlines. Then she wore that Kermit the Frog jacket and matching hat and it hit me: she is a genius.
She has many detractors. Among them people I respect and admire. But one of my work colleagues keeps saying that she's a bad role model for young women. And it's really starting to grind my gears. Yes, the thought that little girls are receiving a message that it's ok to dress like a skank and talk about sex is a little alarming. That part of Gaga's persona could be what's worrying him. But to that I say - parental control.
While he never really elaborates on exactly what about Gaga makes her a bad role model, he fails to mention the fact that she's a strong woman who is successful in her own right (she's classically trained - she went to Julliard or Tisch or somewhere like that and she's been working as a songwriter), seems in control of her own image and is supportive of the gay community. An open-minded, strong, independent, and talented woman is a bad role model for young women? Ok, sure, have it your way.
I know the ole Gag seems a little allergic to pants or even clothes at times, but isn't it another form of repression to tell women who they can and can't be empowered by? And why isn't it ever mentioned in discussions like this that all of these male R'n'B singers can feature scantily clad women in their videos and treat them like objects and even write songs about women, degrading them, and not be singled out as being bad role models for young men?
Camille Paglia, a writer on gender studies, would probably like Lady Gaga a lot. She's a woman who's all for women being allowed to express their sexuality. I think some of these narrow-minded pseudo-feminist gentlemen (and some women - like the idiot who wrote the incredibly editorial piece on Lady Gaga's video for 'Telephone' for the Australian) should read a little more Paglia and get some perspective on the ways in which sexuality is expressed through popular culture (and don't just watch that episode of American Dad when Hayley becomes a stripper. By all means watch it, but if you read Paglia first then watch it you can giggle, smug in the knowledge that you understand a pop culture reference).
I had an idea that Cleo could be fuming about a classmate or lecturer in one of her psychology courses dealing with gender while getting ready to go out. Depending on when we finally nail this sucker down and put it on the ole cathode ray tube, we could discuss Gaga or some other pop star flaunting her bits in music videos. She could be talking about how men shouldn't be allowed to tell women who they can and can't be empowered by. She goes to go out only half-dressed. The guys could tell her she's not wearing any pants and she will laugh, expressing how embarrassing that would be before proceeding to put on hot pants that are only marginally longer than her underwear and heading out the door.
I know this seems like an ambivalent attitude toward women who dress in this way, because I think all women feel ambivalent about it. We respect and admire celebrities brave enough to dress the way they want and take risks, but when we see someone doing it in society we tend to criticise them. I think there's also the idea that you dress for your age and young women can get away with stuff and older women can't. Also, we all think that only thin girls should wear whatever they like. It's our ambivalent attitude toward ourselves and fashion that allows for this kind of debate over whether Gaga is a fashion icon or just a whorily-dressed moron. And I think that art should be the form through which we express our internal struggles as well as our external ones in society. And also be funny. And I like that Cleo has all of these wonderful insights into society but still sometimes behaves like the sort of young girl that a lot of people would dismiss as being an airhead.
It's all mental masturbation.
I was watching Annie Hall for the Nth time not long ago and I realised; here is an opportunity to steal from a man who's already been stolen from numerous times. It's the awkward first date between Woody Allen's Alvy Singer and Diane Keaton's Annie Hall. They're at her apartment and they discuss her attempts at photography. Both desperate to impress one another, they begin having this incredibly pretentious discussion about photography. In subtitles, we see what they're thinking as they talk - Alvy wonders why the hell he's saying all of this stuff to her, while Annie thinks she has no idea what she's talking about and is afraid he'll realise it. The point is, they're both trying to show the other how knowledgeable about art they are and both think they have no idea what they're talking about - a common occurrence whenever I begin to talk about art.
I think this discussion fits in with our characters and our thematic concerns, and also our reflexive attitude toward our chosen medium. Which is just a fancy way of saying that we want to reveal our favourite artists within our own art. Which is still a fancy way of saying we want to steal from other films and television shows.
The Blueprint
Yes, I finally realise that Jay-Z is some kind of genius. He really must stop producing crazy, great tunes about New York when I'm obssessed with the Big Apple right now. I have an idea for a feature film that's sort of an exploration of the idle rich and the costs associated with being involved and being cast out. Yeah, because no one has ever done that and isn't right now on television...ahem. In my research I've discovered that almost all of the stories I'm reading and watching take place in New York or at the very least a city like New York. Like Paris. I feel like Sydney might be a prime location for an examination of these people and again, the Great Gatsby is figuring pretty large in my influences. Which brings me back to the episode I'm still getting more ideas for than any other: The Great Goldstein (strictly a working title, promise.)
So, I'm thinking the episode starts with the flatmates getting ready for an exhibition of an up-and-coming avant garde artist's collection at a hip new cafe called Cheap. Francis gets to talking about the weird day he's had involving an elderly woman essentially revealing her life story to him at a bus stop. It isn't an uncommon occurrence, either. Cue montage of moments in which people have confided in Francis whether he wanted them to or not. (could we use Hitler Youth outfit here?).
The exhibition is full of wankers and posers and our heroes make fun of the assortment of idiots present. Francis gets separated, having an awkward run-in with the frontman of a scenester band enjoying some inexplicable fame and bumps into an awkward young woman. He begins talking about the artist whose exhibiting her work, D'Arcy.
From their viewpoint Sam and Dan see that he is talking to D'Arcy, the artist.
Meanwhile, Francis and D'Arcy seem to hit it off and have a brief attachment. Not sure whether it would be a romantic dalliance. Perhaps simply a mutual admiration of the other's ability to make them feel comfortable, a la Gatsby and Carraway.
Anyway, that's all I have for the moment. Speaking of things that should be on television right now, why hasn't this enjoyed a return to our lives via Foxtel?
- S
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