There and Back Again
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There’s been a recurring theme in many of my conversations with writers and filmmakers over the past few days: Despite the many calls on people to use their time in quarantine to achieve creative breakthroughs, we’re all struggling to fully activate our creative faculties. Put differently, creativity while in quarantine is really hard. I have a theory about why this is the case. There’s a distinct deficit of stimulation.
Here’s what I mean. In a typical week, I log a lot of hours sitting at my desk and just writing. That hasn’t changed. A lot of this is work for my various clients—journalism outlets, ghost-writing, corporate and non-profit writing—and a lot of it is spent on personal creative projects, primarily screenplays. But ordinarily those hours that aren’t committed to writing are divided up between seeing friends, working lunches, workshops, classes, visiting cultural institutions, happy hours, the gym, sports. Now, though, while the amount of time that I have to just sit and write has theoretically gone up with the coronavirus lockdown, the amount of outside stimulation I’m receiving on a daily basis has plummeted. There’s just less material to work with.
What’s interesting about this is it’s not like I’m leaving the house every day and saying to myself, “I’m going to go find something to write about.” It’s more that daily life provides a sort of subliminal inspiration. This shouldn’t be surprising. There is, I believe, a fundamental human desire to lace up our shoes, walk out the door, and go see what’s out there. Many of our greatest stories begin with some version of these simple actions. Tolkien was pretty explicit about it in The Lord of the Rings, and there are ample examples from ancient stories and mythology, from Adam and Eve—apart from the shoes, of course—to Icarus. It’s no mistake that our most distant ancestors were nomadic.
The best stories involve both an inner and outer journey (I’m thinking once more of The Lord of the Rings especially). But where does that leave us at this moment? Facing an uniquely inner journey, perhaps.
There are plenty of examples of inner journeys from literature and legend. Look no further than Kafka or the Buddha. These journeys, however, may come a bit less easily for the modern person. We are conditioned to expect that we can shape the world to suit our vision, or at very least try to. It’s common to hear exhortations to complete your creative project or start your company or quit your job and travel. It’s rare to hear someone say that you should take some time to reflect. Perhaps that’s another thing we can use this unexpected unallocated time for.
TODAY’S RECOMMENDATION: “AGUIRRE, THE WRATH OF GOD” (1972) and “ALICE IN THE CITIES” (1972)
Today’s recommendations are from screenwriter Wade Smith. You can reach him at wadesmith123 [at] gmail.com
Catastrophes shape us. They shape the media, the way with think, and the stories we tell. I’m sure we’ve all had ample time to sit down and browse Netflix. Perhaps you’ve noticed ‘Outbreak’ and ‘Pandemic’ on the front page. The same way that COVID-19 is filling our news feed, it is also beginning to fill our streaming feed. When I think about this, I cannot help but be reminded of the films of New German Cinema. These were a slew of films made by young Germans in the 60’s and 70’s who wanted to speak out against the Holocaust and the regime that caused it. They did this in an indirect and symbolic way, focusing on the new way of life in Germany, and the overwhelming silence.
In Werner Herzog’s “Aguirre, the Wrath of God,” Don Lope de Aguirre is sent by a higher-up conquistador to search for any signs of El Dorado in the Amazon jungle. After killing a couple of his commanders, Aguirre proclaims himself the leader of his small group of explorers, rafting down the rivers of the Amazon. His descent into an egomaniacal madness in search for an unobtainable utopia is common for Herzog’s protagonists. Anton Kaes, in his The New German Cinema article, states that these characters represent an apocalyptic critique of Western civilization and primordial nature destroying colonizers. In my opinion, Aguirre’s doomed expedition is an allegory for Hitler and his Nazi followers. Hitler had a utopian ideal that was extreme and unobtainable, requiring the torture and sacrifice of many others. Done Lope de Aguirre wanted the same thing. He was willing to kill or allow his followers to suffer and die as long as he could obtain his utopia, El Dorado. Even in the end of the film, when everyone else has died, and monkeys have flooded Aguirre’s raft and are crawling all over him, he asks who is with him in his search for El Dorado. He does not seem to notice that there is no response, as he floats further down the Amazon into the brutal jungle. His world crumbled around him because his vision of success was too great, a theme that Fassbinder also frequently explored.
Wim Wender’s “Alice in the Cities” is a road-movie about a West German writer, Philip, and a lost young girl, Alice, who he tries to help get back home. The film deals with absent guardians, the importance of images, and the struggle to find one’s home and identity. Philip and Alice search the streets of Wuppertal and Ruhr in search of Alice’s grandmother’s home, because she cannot remember her grandmother’s name or address. Alice in the Cities doesn’t address so much a blemished German identity as a complete loss of it. In the film, there are long scenes without dialogue, and there is this jarring silence that demands awareness. The imagery speaks louder than words, which is something that Philip has already begun to understand regarding photographs versus written language in his profession. Fassbinder once stated that filmmakers can express fears for other people when they are unable to do it themselves with their own voices—that without film, we would all withdraw into a moronic silence. Regarding this, Wenders explores the silence that the entire post-war German generation suffered regarding their collective denial, secrecy, and shame.
— Wade Smith
Both “Alice in the Cities” and “Aguirre, The Wrath of God” are available to stream on Amazon Prime Video.
FOR THE KIDS: “THE NEVERENDING STORY” (1984)
A lot of the films I’m recommending in this newsletter are very adult in their content and themes. With that in mind, I’m going to add a brief daily suggestion of a movie for those among us who are not of an age to appreciate Brazilian grindhouse cinema.
Today’s pick is “The NeverEnding Story,” a film which I distinctly remember being obsessed with when I was about 8, but which I cannot fathom as an adult. There’s a magic book, a boy on a mission, a flying dog-thing, and if I remember correctly, a lot of mud at some point and perhaps a biker gang. It’s a lot of fun.
“The NeverEnding Story” is streaming on Amazon Prime Video.
READING LIST:
There is actually other news around the world besides coronavirus. I recommend reading this recent piece from The Guardian about potential breakthrough climate change technologies.
There’s also another interesting story from the Templeton World Charity Foundation about potential applications of AI to help people like doctors improve their ethical decision-making in high-pressure situations.