Read The Secret Knowledge Online
Authors: David Mamet
The Secret Knowledge (20 page)
These plays were an (unfortunate) by-product of the contemporary love-of-the-victim. For a victim, as above, is pure, and cannot have sinned; and one, by endorsing him, may perhaps gain, by magic, part of his incontrovertible status. (An ancient poker adage has it that the Loser can't get enough to eat, and the winner can't sleep. Its application to the postwar West, I leave to the Reader.)
But a synergistic elaboration of the essence of the victim play was that the Afflicted could in no wise be portrayed as flawed. But, if they could not be flawed (that is, if they had not made, as heroes of the drama, a wrong choice), how could they be the fit subject of a drama? They could not.
My first personal experience of Political Thought in the Arts dates from my first commercially produced play. This was
Sexual Perversity in Chicago
, which ran, for some time, off-Broadway at the Cherry Lane Theatre in New York.
Sexual Perversity in Chicago
, which ran, for some time, off-Broadway at the Cherry Lane Theatre in New York.
A woman critic at the
Village Voice
accused me, in a review of this play, of misogyny. Why? Because misogyny was a subject of the play.
Village Voice
accused me, in a review of this play, of misogyny. Why? Because misogyny was a subject of the play.
In my play, two couples, two men and two women, contend. The younger man and woman, Dan and Deborah, have fallen in love, and the older pair, respectively, their best friends, scheme to keep them apart. A common, and, I thought, inoffensive theme. But the champion of the Oppressed took against me. How odd, I thought, for one might have supposed the title, characterizing the behavior in the play as
perverse
might have allowed the poor critic, if not some enjoyment, at least a guide to her conjectures as to my motives. (Cézanne's labeling various still-lifes as dealing with
fruit
, for example, sparing his critics the misapprehension that they were portraits of the table.) But, no.
perverse
might have allowed the poor critic, if not some enjoyment, at least a guide to her conjectures as to my motives. (Cézanne's labeling various still-lifes as dealing with
fruit
, for example, sparing his critics the misapprehension that they were portraits of the table.) But, no.
I have received many close-this-play reviews over the years, and that is both part of the cost of my doing business, and one of the prices of a Free Press. The same Constitution which protects my right to write my plays, shields the right of the critic to write drivel. Why do I instance this long-ago hatchet job?
Because, to this day, nearly forty years after that review, I am asked, in lectures, classrooms, and interviews why I hate women.
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A rhetorical question is essentially an attack, and this protracted attack must be laid, not to the account of the poor writer at the
Village Voice
, but to that “movement,” for which, I presume, she thought she spoke: the “Feminist Studies” so beloved of our great Universities.
Village Voice
, but to that “movement,” for which, I presume, she thought she spoke: the “Feminist Studies” so beloved of our great Universities.
I found these attacks upsetting first because I am a sensitive fellow, and, second, because, to the contrary, I love women. I've been privileged to have spent my life surrounded by them; and it seems to me a matter of course that men and women
should
get on well together, which was, after all, the theme of
Sexual Perversity in Chicago
.
should
get on well together, which was, after all, the theme of
Sexual Perversity in Chicago
.
Here is another question spawned by the University: Why do I not
write
for women? (This expounded by the students, I believe, burdened by the rigors of studying both feminism
and
drama.)
write
for women? (This expounded by the students, I believe, burdened by the rigors of studying both feminism
and
drama.)
The answer, I
do
write for women, is unsuccessful in averting wrath, for the wisdom inculcated by the University is not, it seems, of that weak variety which bows before fact. I have written many plays and parts for women; nearly as many as I have written for men, and, probably as many as any other dramatist of my generation, man
or
woman. But the question, again, is not a request for information, but an attack. Well, that's all right.
do
write for women, is unsuccessful in averting wrath, for the wisdom inculcated by the University is not, it seems, of that weak variety which bows before fact. I have written many plays and parts for women; nearly as many as I have written for men, and, probably as many as any other dramatist of my generation, man
or
woman. But the question, again, is not a request for information, but an attack. Well, that's all right.
I came across an old trunk, full of bills and posters, playbills, and correspondence of my youth. The correspondence was almost exclusively of two kinds, rejection slips and love letters.
I remember of the rejections, at the time of their receipt, that I, after the first momentary blaze of indignation, felt, of the producers, agents, and publishers who had rejected my work, “too bad for
you
, who are going to be the loser thereby”; and I remember feeling at the time, of the letters, and feel still today, a gratitude for and wonder at the generosity of women.
you
, who are going to be the loser thereby”; and I remember feeling at the time, of the letters, and feel still today, a gratitude for and wonder at the generosity of women.
A writer's life is lived, and, I think, must be lived, in solitude. For it is a dialogue with one's own thoughts, and, often, a dialogue
about
one's own thoughts; and the corrosive nature of this struggle is often unpleasant, devouring one's time and weakening one's capacity for simple human interaction. This is a minuscule price to pay for the privilege of earning one's living as an artist; but the price, though small (if it is a price, and not, rather, an
attribute
), unfits the writer, or, at least, unfitted me, for participation in a wider society. I need to be alone. And am very grateful that this state has been not only ameliorated but beautified by the society of my wife and my children, many of whom are women.
about
one's own thoughts; and the corrosive nature of this struggle is often unpleasant, devouring one's time and weakening one's capacity for simple human interaction. This is a minuscule price to pay for the privilege of earning one's living as an artist; but the price, though small (if it is a price, and not, rather, an
attribute
), unfits the writer, or, at least, unfitted me, for participation in a wider society. I need to be alone. And am very grateful that this state has been not only ameliorated but beautified by the society of my wife and my children, many of whom are women.
Part of the Left's savage animus against Sarah Palin is attributable to her status not as a woman, neither as a Conservative, but as a Worker.
The intellectual elite which is the Left can preserve neither its hegemony nor its pretensions in the light of facts, for the fact is that Governments cannot create wealth. Wealth, and prosperity, is creatable only by workers, which is to say, by those who are going to employ their gifts, their time, and their energy and intelligence to
create something others might want
. Every worker knows this: work hard, and get ahead. (May the hard-worker be overlooked, or gulled from his just reward? Of course; but the potential reward for his application is
completely
denied to his brother who
will
not work.)
create something others might want
. Every worker knows this: work hard, and get ahead. (May the hard-worker be overlooked, or gulled from his just reward? Of course; but the potential reward for his application is
completely
denied to his brother who
will
not work.)
Sarah Palin was a commercial fisherman. She actually
worked with her hands
, and, so, she like Harry Truman, was, to the Left, an object not only to be dismissed, but to be mocked. For the Left loves “the workers” only in the abstract; to find that they not only exist as individuals, but are willing to
bet their subsistence
upon their principles of hard work and thriftâthis, to the Left, is an unanswerable indictment of Socialism, Globalism, and Statism. The enemy of the Intellectual is not the Capitalist, but the individual, which is to say the Worker.
63
worked with her hands
, and, so, she like Harry Truman, was, to the Left, an object not only to be dismissed, but to be mocked. For the Left loves “the workers” only in the abstract; to find that they not only exist as individuals, but are willing to
bet their subsistence
upon their principles of hard work and thriftâthis, to the Left, is an unanswerable indictment of Socialism, Globalism, and Statism. The enemy of the Intellectual is not the Capitalist, but the individual, which is to say the Worker.
63
A few words about Marilyn Monroe.
A student, lawyer, teacher, artist, mother, grandmother, defender of animals, rancher, homemaker, sportswoman, rescuer of childrenâall these are futures we can imagine for Norma Jeane. If acting had become an expression of that real self, not an escape from it, one can also imagine the whole woman who was both Norma Jeane and Marilyn becoming a serious actress and wise comedienne, who would still be working in her sixties, with more productive years to come. But Norma Jeane remained the frightened child of the past. And Marilyn remained the unthreatening half-person that sex-goddesses are supposed to be. It is the lost possibilities of Marilyn Monroe that capture our imaginations.âGloria Steinem, foreword to
Coffee with Marilyn
, by Yona Zeldis McDonough
Coffee with Marilyn
, by Yona Zeldis McDonough
Marilyn Monroe, then, though her work brought and brings delight to literally hundreds of millions of people, although she created for herself one of the most revered icons in show business, had an impossibly successful career, though she did this through persistence, talent, hard work, and guts, must be dismissed by the wiser, nonworking Left, which finds her neither a serious actress nor comedienne. She did not, sadly, fulfill the vision which Gloria Steinem had for her, because she was not an intellectualâshe was an actual worker.
In a more equal world, a top-down world, a world of equality (as envisioned and enforced by the Left) Ms. Monroe might have been taken in hand (by whom?) early on, and cured of her unreal escapist self (her talent), and still be alive playing Mother Courage in some Resident Theatre somewhere.
Can this be Feminism? A dismissal of the greatest comedienne in the history of the screen because her work did not meet the high standards of Gloria Steinem?
Is it possible that the wise Ms. Steinem mistakes the performances of Marilyn with the person? She does conflate, and seems to connect causally, Marilyn's screen persona with her use of sleeping pills, suggesting that she killed herself (an open point) because she was “denied the full range of possibility” and, so, was forced to disappoint Gloria Steinem.
Would Ms. Steinem be happier if Marilyn had lived to play Medea and Queen Elizabeth? Is she ignorant of the working life span of an actress? Did she never laugh or smile at one of Marilyn's performances? Of course she did, but now she wants to throw it in reverse and, having derived enjoyment from her work, derive further enjoyment from her superior sad understanding of Marilyn's essential “slavery.” Marilyn, though vastly wealthy, though widely accomplished, though revered worldwide (and to this day) was somehow a “slave to men.” Why? Because she was a woman, and acting, thus, was somehow not “an expression of her real self.”
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What balderdash. Shame on you, Ms. Steinem, for promoting hypocrisy. For, anyone who might be foolish enough to nod along with your sanctimony, will, along with you, the next time they watch one of Marilyn's films, laugh and smile; you, then, are promoting a dual-consciousness, an indictment of that which one enjoys, of a legitimate pleasure brought about through the work and the talent of an actual human being, who, in your sad lament, you belittle and patronize. Were or are
you
smarter or more talented than Marilyn Monroe? Make me laugh.
you
smarter or more talented than Marilyn Monroe? Make me laugh.
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