Dear Avid Reader,
My readers come here for the dynamic insight into pop culture and crazy writing. And of course always I deliver.
Always.
Get ready to be served.
At The Late Night, Double Feature, Picture Show
The worst thing that happened in pop culture during the last few decades happened in the sub-genres that are referred to as "nerdy". Comics, video games, underground music, and et cetera. Typically they are children's hobbies that are still enjoyed ironically, or unironically, by adults. Usually unironically.
Now this isn't a treatise on how a scene was better "back when". I don't know. Maybe it is. I leave it to the reader to decide. But I am trying to at least avoid comparisons of quality. This is because I think movies, music, and the like are better than ever. I really do. But there has been a change that I cannot abide. And that will be our fifteen minutes traffic upon this blog. Anon!
Well You Got Caught With A Flat Well How 'Bout That
I went to my first live showing of Rocky Horror just recently. And before I tell you what happened, we are going to do some background about this flick and me. When I was in 5th-7th grade I rolled with some cool people. Now that I think about it, they were probably some of the most influential people on my early development.
(I realize right now that this is going to be more of a "diary" entry rather than a crazy writing experiment. I'm not sure how this will turn out, but I have high hopes. Back to the essay.)
Now I was really shy. Seriously. Very shy. So I was in the background of this group. The leader was Michael. The guy was a leader and what's more he knew it. The guy was basically an eleven-year-old dictator. He went to theatre classes and quickly moved to bring us into this world into ours. Monty Python was an early addition. Michael had bought the books, records, and everything. And we soon began to run lines during recess. Seriously, we ran the lines. Like we were about to go on stage after lunch. Seriously. No seriously, this really happened.
I'm A Wild And An Untamed Thing I'm A Bee With A Deadly Sting
I realize this was crazy now that I've grown up. But what did we know? We were kind of the weird outsider kids. If I played Wall-Ball, I was always targeted to get bombarded until I quit. Other playground equipment had been claimed by this group or the other. This insane, drama club was the only place that would have me. So I hunkered in and learned the lines to the Dead Parrot Sketch. Anything was better than getting pelted by a tennis ball.
These experiences began my love affair with the theatre and my hatred of bullies. i can't abide a bully. And to me bullies don't take lunch money. No, bullies are people who have dedicated themselves to excluding others. They are professional ostracizers. They want to dominate someone else. It's never material, it's social. I'd much rather be robbed than humiliated. Especially in middle school.
Being exiled has always been the ultimate punishment. To be cast out. And there is a certain romance associated with the outcast in the stories we like. It's as if the individual that doesn't belong is able to see a truth that is hidden from those that do. His isolation has allowed him some perspective. He is detached and can look at his own kind as a scientist would look at a maze of rats. And by using his outsider insight, the society can benefit from the outcast's years away. In a way, they did that guy a favor.
"Bullcrap," says the unwanted man, "And don't break your arm patting yourself on the back. Once I build a raft out of these trees, I'm paddling off this island and I'm burning down that crooked judge's house. I'll show you insight!"
Cards For Sorrow, Cards For Pain
Now one would think that the downtrodden dorks of the world would understand the pain of being picked on and you wouldn't have dork bullies. But sadly this is not the case. And the rise in incidents of dork-bullying is what has made some fun pop culture moments so terrible. Including my recent trip to see Rocky Horror.
By seventh grade Michael had decided that we should try and go to a live showing of Rocky Horror. Being that this was still pre-Internet, he had bought all of the books, albums, and other stuff he needed to train us in to a lean, mean, audience-participating' machine. The Time-Warp obstacle course took more than one life, but we honored their deaths with many toast-throwing toasts.
Mind you, he didn't buy the actual movie so as to let the first time we saw it was to be in the theatre. And we were all game. Again, you have to realize our situation. What were we going to do? Get tossed off a jungle gym for being weird or learn the words to Sweet Transvestite. Pass me the music sheet please.
Rose Tints My World And Keeps Me Safe From My Trouble And Pain
But as we got closer to actually going, Michael began to turn fanatical. The turning point came when he decided that we were going to dress up as the characters. He claimed the character of Riff-Raff (distressed butler uniform) for himself, and then began making pronouncements about the rest of us. Who would be Dr. Frank (had to wear lingerie) and Rocky (nothing but a gold bikini bottom) became his single focus and dominated conversations.
He outlawed dressing as Brad, I guess because that was too easy to just wear a tux. Eddie was up for grabs, but it seemed like it wasn't ideal. Someone could be Dr. Scott, but they had to find a wheelchair. Of course I had no idea where to get one so that was out. And we had no idea that the Criminologist even existed because Michael had assumed that all of his parts were being spoken by the Pair of Lips from the opening. We weren't quite the machine we had aspired to.
In the end parents were not on board with us going. We ended up watching the movie at someones house, participating in whatever capacity we could. But the ruthlessness of Michael during those planning days has always stuck with me. Rather than getting everyone to enjoy the flick, it became more and more like he was issuing orders. And it was obvious he enjoyed the thought of us being embarrassed. At some point he had realized he was king of the geek. It was only a matter of time until he began commanding his subjects.
Hot Patootie, Bless My Soul I Really Love That Rock And Roll
One might assume that this experience would cause me to hate Rocky Horror. But this is not the case. I love the movie. I really do. Rocky Horror is fun, crazy, excessive and really original. It's easy to see why there would be a cult following for it. And those recesses spent memorizing lyrics were also fun. Michael did cross the line, but only as he got worked into a fever pitch as the event became closer. For the most part, we had fun feeding off his enthusiasm. Just like with Monty Python.
See Michael touched on something that has become all too common in these weird little niche worlds of pop culture. Early on the outcasts found these little veins of music and film that no one else had discovered. And they began to mine them. Far away from the village, the exiles had to find new places to mine. And they found strange ores like Punk, B-Movies, and graphic novels. And as the village began to exhaust their deposits, the expanded and began to bump against the exiles. Of course the little hamlets that had been hastily constructed in the wilderness. Could they stand a chance again the armies of the many? The war of the mainstream and the underground had begun.
It easy for me to write the above paragraph because that is exactly how I felt for most of my adolescence. That cool stuff needed to be protected. The geeks finally had something that the popular people wanted and we'd all be damned if they were allowed to ever enjoy it. I'm not sure who came up with the plan to become uptight snobs, but it sure caught on. And it sure convinced a lot of people.
But the plan to become so protective has back-fired. In our effort to punish those that first threw us out of the warmth of inclusion, we have started to ruin the things that we love. If an individual says they like "indie music", the impulse to roll one's eyes is staggering. These rare jewels that were so glittering when first brought to the surface are now considered tarnished. Tacky. Nerd is now short hand for pretentious. And I for won't don't blame anyone for thinking that.
Don't Dream It, Be It
This snobbishness is what happened to me at the live showing of Rocky Horror. I saw a group of people going through the motions. No joy. No fun. This was their way of indicating how much smarter they were because they knew when to throw the toilet paper. What was once a shelter that was built warm the excluded had turned into a fortress to fend off invaders. A theatre full of people paid ten bucks to be bullied by twenty nerds.
Soon, though, soon the older nerds will die off or move on. The memory of being exiled will lost. I envision a world were it is impossible to feel excluded. Even the Rocky live shows will change into the bubbly events they once were. It's already happening now. And it's wonderful.
And when that day comes, we will all dance the Time-Warp...together.
Until Next I Blog,
James
No comments:
Post a Comment