We’re perilously close to agreeing again, so I will just make two more points. First, there is already a place obligated to provide works that may not be popular but are interesting and educational, and that’s the library. Admittedly, though, they may not have some of the fringe material you are talking about, but fortunately, the market does provide, and the wonderful Reel.com (http://www.reel.com) has just about every movie on video, easy to buy or rent. Second, I have a little less sympathy than you for the artistic souls who are so easily corrupted. I’m not going to weep any tears for the dimming artistic vision of anyone whose vision can be dimmed by a studio deal. I think it was Van Gogh who said, “the only artists who belong on this earth are the ones that God himself can’t get off until they’ve said everything they need to say.” He managed without a private plane or even a publicist.
That reminds me–I love this week’s Doonesbury, with Joanie’s son Jeffrey interviewing for a position as a member of Leo DiCaprio’s entourage. In today’s episode, he expresses surprise that he will not be interviewed by Leo himself, only to learn that “There are six distinct layers of people between Leo and his public. That’s what makes joining his posse such a big deal!”
The front page of today’s Post has two separate above-the-fold stories featuring people who are defiant in the face of unrelenting criticism, Clarence Thomas and Linda Tripp. I hate it when Thomas devalues words like “lynching” and “slave.” And I hate it when Linda Tripp devalues words like “a situation not of [my] own making.” Which brings me to your point about Anita Hill and Paula Jones. Unlike Paula Jones, Anita Hill never filed an action or sought publicity. The issue of being harmed in her employment was irrelevant because she wasn’t suing anyone, much less asking for damages. Anita Hill made no attempt to come forward and was called as a witness in Thomas’ confirmation hearing to provide evidence relevant to whether his employment as a Supreme Court justice was legitimate. In a way, I’m sorry now, because that experience appears to have made him hostile and bitter in a way that cannot help but be reflected in his decisions, as shown in his comment you quote on dissent.
One of the most annoying aspects of stories like the Monica-thon is that there is very little actual news, so what we get instead is lots of filler–sidebars delineating past stories in some way like this one (did you know that Grover Cleveland was accused of fathering a child out of wedlock!), journalists interviewing other journalists (“so, what have you heard?”), and even stories about the people who are commenting on the story. As April showers bring May flowers, scandals bring a new round of pundits. So today’s Post profiles Jonathan Turley, formerly a professor of environmental law, now “the talking head of the moment” because he has the three “a’s”–he is attractive, articulate, and available. He combines a “talent for sound bites with the willingness to take on the president.” There is too little supply because the principals in this story are unavailable for comment and there’s not much information. And there is too much demand because of the proliferation of media outlets. Hence, the Turleys of the world win the talk show trifecta, and we get “six distinct layers” between the facts and the reports. The problem is that these soundbiters are so desperately needed that no one ever bothers to establish their credentials–or their bias. The Post points out that often “guests with an obvious political point of view are identified merely by their formal positions. For example, Barbara Olson, who served as Republican counsel to one of the congressional committees probing the administration, is often billboarded only as a former federal prosecutor.” Turley declined to participate in the profile, saying that he did not want to contribute to a “cult of personality.” Or maybe he doesn’t want to subject himself to the kind of pontificating from the hip that he spouts off on television.
I, too, mourn the passing of Jerome Robbins and the joyous athleticism and unabashed emotion of his dances. We’ll watch “West Side Story” again and wish there was someone making movies like that now.
