'Streetcar' and Censorship.

Yesterday, I finally cracked. I was on my way home from work and I passed the DVD rental place, wandered in and, well, somehow A Streetcar Named Desire was just what I felt like seeing. I’d been holding off for a while. I had my reasons.

I saw a stage production of The Glass Menagerie a few months ago. It was incredible. We don’t study Tennessee Williams in high school over here. Shakespeare, sure, every year at least once, and if you don’t hit Steinbeck there’s a good chance someone’ll hand you To Kill A Mockingbird, but Tennessee Williams isn’t on anybody’s radar for exam fodder. So I think it was somewhere around the point in Tom’s opening speech where he refers to the fiddler in the wings that I became aware of -- became awed by -- the autheticity of the voice. It was intimate. It was elegantly constructed. It had a rough edge. It was incontrovertibly American. This was poetry created from the surrounding voice. It couldn’t rely on literary conventions to mark it out as art. It was the real deal.

I was so glad I had never had to write English assignments on it.

Of course I wanted more. Still, I was wary of watching Tennessee Williams on film. Having seen The Glass Menagerie in the theatre, I honestly couldn’t imagine how you could possibly make a film out of it. The way it uses the stage setting is too beautiful, the way it doesn’t entirely pretend to be real. It’s nostalgic -- it’s a stage, an illusion -- it’s intimate, but it doesn’t pretend to be entirely real. How could you possibly capture that on film? Why would you want to?

I didn’t know if his later plays had anything of the same effect. But I couldn’t help worrying that film really couldn’t capture Tennessee Williams, and that I might be spoiling a future opportunity to see the real thing on stage. When it came to Streetcar, there was the plus side that Tennessee Williams had had a hand in the screenplay. If he thought it was okay, maybe it would be! On the other hand, though, there was the censorship issue. Did I really want to see a version that might have had its teeth pulled by prudish fifties industry watchdogs?

(Spoilers follow because I can’t shut up about important plot details.)

Well, I’ve seen it, no going back now, and I think it was probably worth it. The censorship does pose problems, but the actors are brilliant. It’s the film that made Marlon Brando’s name, of course, and Vivien Leigh is as good as you’d expect, but I was actually particularly impressed by Kim Hunter as Stella. She deserved that Oscar. She was a great contrast to Leigh’s pale waif-like Blanche, and I loved the complexity of emotion in her sulky mouth. I was watching the director’s cut, which meant we had the nice close-up in that scene where she goes back down to Stanley after he has hit her -- really, it’s a crying shame the League of Decency forced them to change that scene at the last minute. It was one of the most impressive sequences in the whole film, central to portraying Stella and Stanley’s relationship.

I’m glad I knew already that Blanche’s husband was homosexual. You could see perfectly well how the stuff she said about him applied to that situation (“He came to me for help, but I didn’t know that”). I’d have hated to be confused into thinking he was just oversensitive enough to kill himself over nothing.

It’s the end that I regret. When I saw Stella say to Stanley “Don’t you touch me,” I thought Yeah, right, how long is that going to last? Then she goes to her baby and says “We’re not going back in there, not ever,” and I thought Oh. Really? That’s nice. Gosh. So it’s a proper tragic ending, huh? Everyone loses, but at least that includes the bad guy. Not so terrible, really!

They suckered me. I am ashamed of myself.

Those stuffy, long-dead bastards! See what they’ve done? I’ll never get that moment back. For, of course, in the original play, Stella doesn’t leave Stanley. She never would. She’s dependent on him emotionally and financially. There were no battered women’s shelters in those days, but even if there were, believing Blanche’s story would have required the courage to see her world fall apart. She wasn’t going to do that. And I knew it, I could see it, right up to the point where she did differently, and I was desperately afraid of my own reaction -- afraid that I’d think that Stella and Stanley’s love, such as it was, was the only good thing still standing, despite its rottenness -- afraid that I’d have to see in it a bitter hope that I couldn’t reject because it was the only thing left.

I wasn’t so much glad that Stella had left Stanley as I was glad that I wasn’t sorry for it. And I won’t get that moment back. I won’t know how I would have dealt with it if the stupid Hollywood Production Code hadn’t insisted that rape couldn’t go unpunished. Seriously, what did they think Tennessee Williams was writing? A play about the way we’d like the world to be? Did they think he was endorsing a world where sensitive homosexual boys could be driven to suicide, and where Blanche’s sexual behaviour could deny her the only possibility of happiness she had?

Perhaps they did endorse that. Stupid bastards.

More on satire and free speech in New Zealand.

After writing my last blog post, I knew I'd been neglecting my duty as a citizen by not writing letters about the ban on using parliamentary footage for satirical purposes. So I sat down to write an email. But who to write to? My local MP? I hate Gerry Brownlee. Well, all right, not hate hate, but I don't really think of him as representing my views and writing to him as if I cared about the finer points of what he thinks felt a bit dishonest; I'd never vote for him. Helen Clark as head of the Labour government? Ha! Fat chance. I have considerable respect for Helen Clark, but she's a pragmatic politician and I can't imagine any argument I might make counting for much beyond a chalk mark in one direction or the other. In this I may or may not be being unfair.

So I wrote to Jim Anderton, leader of the Progressive Party with its single seat in government, closely aligned with Labour and holding a seat in cabinet, not in Labour because he split with the party in the 1980s when they weren't being particularly Labour-ish, and in, it has been noted, his 'fourth political incarnation' (the other two changes of party allegiance being a merger and, more recently, yet another split).

Notwithstanding his occasional apparent difficulties with strict party allegiance, Anderton's a good politician. Someone asked Helen Clark, when she was elected for her second term and Jim Anderton had just been demoted somewhat, becoming the leader of a much smaller party than the one he's previously been leader of, if she'd still keep him in cabinet and she said something to the effect that she'd be silly not to use a person like that, given that the talent was available. She meant it.

My letter went as follows:

Dear Mr. Anderton,

I'm not quite in your electorate -- wrong side of Riccarton Road. But yours is one of the parties I'd consider giving my party vote to, so I figure you have reason to listen to me. I was sorry to read that the Green Party was the only party with sufficient conscience to vote against banning satirical use of footage of parliamentary debates. I confess I might have expected better of you. Did you really have to fall in line on this one?

It's a free speech issue, and it's not just a technicality. When I look at the current state of American politics, there's a lot to despair about in the behaviour of George W. Bush's administration, and it's easy to get frustrated with the media coverage, straight-facedly reporting politically-motivated firings, illegal wiretapping and all the rest of it, with no easy way to express the enormity of the accusations. Enter satire in the form of Jon Stewart and The Daily Show. The former Deputy Attorney General reports to Congress on an incident that basically involved coercion of the then Attorney General when he was groggy after an operation, and a member of Congress says (with typical political cautiousness) "Hearing your testimony, I almost gulped". It's really important that the Daily Show was able to air that clip of a parliamentary session, air it and follow it with "You ALMOST gulped? What -- do they have to sodomize the Declaration of Independence in front of you?" Vulgar, perhaps, but I'd say it's a necessary way of conveying disgust and outrage. Sometimes satire is the only sufficiently powerful way to say something really important.

You have disappointed me.

Yours sincerely,
[Lynet]

Recently I received the following reply:

Dear [Lynet]

Thank you for your message of 30 July objecting to the prohibition of the use
of vidoe footage of parliament's proceeding for satirical purposes.  I share
your views on the importance of free speech as being central to  the operation
of any democracy.  It is for this reason that I am opposed, for example, to what
is termed 'anti-hate' legislation banning material  which denigrates groups in
general such as homosexuals or ethnic minorities. Problems of tolerance are
best resolved by open and robust debate.  Why then, as you rightly ask, would
I support such legislation as that to  which you object?  Let me make three
observations:

The first is that the right to free speech is not an absolute right in all
circumstances.  As the US Chief Justice Holmes once sagely remarked it does
not, for example, include the right to cry 'fire' in a crowded theatre.  Sometimes
there can be other considerations to be taken into account.

The second, flowing from that, is that in this case the ban is on the use of
recorded material for 'satire, ridicule or denigration' of the House.  As you
may know, historically parliament in England from which we inherit our
pariamentary traditions, has always been very jealous of its dignity, as
well it might be as what is essentially the highest court in the land and the
fount of all laws.  Insisting on that dignity as a crucial element in its
independence is also one of the key bases of parliamentary democracy, and
has been since the seventeenth century when its independence was fought
for and established.  And so, in banning satire, ridicule and denigration,
the House is also protecting parliamentary democracy and that must be
balanced against the right to absolute free speech.  It is a mootpoint
whether or not the word 'satire' is necessary in that context; it might be that
the other two words suffice.  But this parliamentary standing order is for
this session only and will be reviewed at its end.  That leaves open the
prospect that a change will be made to a more suitable form of words (as
some would see it).  That remains to be seen.  In the mean time it needs to
be borne in mind that the full standing order opens up the options for
citizens to view parliament at work much more widely than at present and
actually contributes to, rather than subtracts from, freedom of reportage.

The third point is merely to remark that I would be more impressed by the high
moral tone adopted by some of ther media towards this provision if they were
taking full advantage of their freedoms to report as they stand now.  Largely
all we get of parliament on television in particular is Question Time when a
conflict occurs.  Very good copy I have no doubt.  But Question Time is
deliberately set up as an adversary situation to  dramatise the issues of the day
and no-one should be surprised if it gets a bit lively from time to time.  However,
it also occupies a mere fraction of what happens in parliament, most of which is
conducted on a largely bi-partisan basis i.e. parliamentarians do actually spend
most of their time now 'getting on with running the country' as many of our
critics so loudly demand we should..  The purpose of broadcasting parliament is
to better inform citizens of what is happening in government - an objective I
thoroughly endorse - but it is a bit hard to see how insisting that showing
pictures of MPs yawning or reading the paper advances that object, or should
be given precedence over the reporting of e.g. Select Committee
proceedings, which is allowed under the rules but which rarely makes it into
the news.

I should finally comment that it is not my practise to take political positions
solely on the basis that people will vote for me or the Progressive Party.  I
hope that they will, but I prefer that should happen on the basis of our policies
overall rather than our stance on this issue or that of the day.

I trust that covers your concerns but please feel free to write to me further if
you continue to have concerns.

With best wishes

Yours sincerely
Jim Anderton
MP for Wigram and Leader of the Progressive Party

Damn, he's good.  I'm still not sure about the idea of
safeguarding parliament's dignity -- the dignity of
parliament most definitely stands or falls on the integrity of
its members (it wasn't until I read Michael King's history
of New Zealand that I realised that the deep scorn and
distrust of politicians that I was aware of as a small kid
probably has some of its roots in Ruth Richardson's 'mother
of all budgets' that left many destitute, and the less than
benevolent Labour government that preceded it).  Still, he
argues well, doesn't he?

We need our own satire (sigh)

Jon Stewart is, naturally, particularly amusing to me in this segment:

Yeah, it sucks about the no satire rule, and I'm sorry to see so many politicians sacrifice principle for the sake of pride -- sorry, but not surprised, because every New Zealander knows you can't trust the bastards. There's still plenty of room for satire, mind -- you just can't use parliamentary footage. Some of the television networks have suggested they'll break the rules if they get footage that suggests satire. Good for them. Notwithstanding that, I've probably been shirking my duty as a citizen by not writing letters on this one.

The best part of the segment is Stewart's blatant cluelessness about my country, of course:

"Whangarei [and I feel like I shouldn't spell that correctly, given the mangled pronunciation] is the northernmost city in New Zealand, known, comically, as a cultural backwater."

Yeah, right.

Gore, Mr. Stewart, Gore is the town most commonly referred to, comically, as a cultural backwater. In the South. Where it's cold, so people don't want to live there so much. Because this is the Southern Hemisphere.

I guess we really do need our own satire.