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Adult Entertainment (ars gratia artis)


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The MADC has just ended a run of Elaine May’s Adult Entertainment – a play that centres around a group of porn actors and their efforts to write their own scripts. Porn was never an easy subject to broach, particularly in a community where the words “tightly-knit”, “gossip” and “moral indignation” stick out like ugly sores on the face of any possible semblance of liberal independence.

Unfortunately, I was not able to view any of the MADC performances and so I am unable to tell you whether the MADC troupe carried the play better than most other performances worldwide that did not seem to attract very good reviews (though apparently May’s script might have a lot to answer for that). What I am sure of is that once the MADC actors (and may I emphasise the Amateur – as in not professional – in that acronym) shed their characters’ masks and stopped living the porn dream in those moments of suspended reality, they returned to being very normal (or rather, very complex) human beings. In all probability they go about their different jobs and lives with the same clumsy haphazardness as you or I might.

Once their make-make up levels are reduced to “time for a selfie in aid of cancer research”, the actors stop being actors. They stop being porn stars who supposedly won prizes for “Best Anal” and become executives, salesemen, insurance brokers, managers or teachers. Some might even double up giving a hand in drama school imparting some of the experience they might have gained on stage to young(er) hopefuls.

I do say shed. In our tiny world though, where the aforementioned ugly warts of “gossip” and “moral indignation” run a fine thread through our social fabric, the authors might often find that their artistic exploits (or even failures) hang on to them well beyond their exit (stage left). They are shadowed by the stamp of whatever character whose shoes they might have filled for those fleeting instances on stage. This happens especially in the case of whatever goes for controversial these days – think nudity or offensive behaviour. It’s not just censorship that posed a problem to our artistic community (wherever you may think the source of that censorship may be) but also the consequences of living a life surrounded by the liberal arts. Others might not be too impressed.

Heaven forbid that your scene includes nudity or that you had to fill the shoes of a mentally depraved character. Forget the exploration of the human psyche through a literary interpretation – no, their judgement is that this is sick. Worse still, you are incurable. You may take yourself off the stage but your sickness hangs on. “Did you see him nude on stage? Was it full frontal? Did he really speak like that about wanting to kill a baby? She has no shame standing there with her knockers gazing straight at my husband – we had front row seats you know! I’m sure she/he enjoyed every second of being in that role”. It gets worse. “How could her employers keep her on after seeing her in the buff?”

Of course there is an alternative to all this madness. You could bear in mind that each and every one goes through a life that is full of ups and downs, highs and lows. Some event (or recurring event) such as a broken relationship, a death in the family, a history of abuse, domestic dissonance could end up unearthing an ugly side of a person. Life tends to throw things at us and does not discriminate between actors, local councillors or lavatory attendants. Life happens and man, being the free-thinking animal that he is, has a very complex way of dealing with such moments.

Alea iacta est, the dice are cast. Actors, plumbers, soldiers, – whoever – at some point in their life will be faced with ugly moments and difficult decisions. To link such a bad patch to a profession or a performance or more specifically to whatever mask is worn on stage is pure balderdash.

Never can a judgement be so shallow as one that reduces a person to one flat dimension, ignoring all his or her complexities and realities. Even in the legal world where a judgement must perforce be given at some point, formulae and principles have been developed in order not to judge too summarily and especially to avoid pre-judgement – and as we know, even the legal world is not infallible. It is nigh impossible to judge unless all circumstances are known and a fuller picture is to be had.

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

(Jaques in Shakespeare’s As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII)

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Articles

J'accuse : The Meaning of Life

This is the J’accuse column that appeared on the Malta Independent on Sunday on the 24th of July.

Speaking to the press after the bombing and shooting that rocked the world, Oslo Mayor Fabian Stang could hardly control his emotions. In a phone interview with the BBC, Stang spoke of how he wished he could have been on Utoya island to put himself between the heartless gunman and his victims: “I would have told him to take me and spare the young campers.” Stang’s words were echoed by both the Foreign Minister and Prime Minister Stoltenberg. The nation had been stung and the biggest tragedy among all the unfolding tragedies was that the agent of the grim reaper had chosen to target the promising youth of a peaceful nation.

Although early signals (mostly US based) pointed towards another al Qaeda linked tragedy, it seems to be increasingly probable that the perpetrator was nothing less than a crazed Christian right-winger who could have been acting on the basis of some grudge against the liberal government. Be that as it may, Friday’s focus was on the loss of life. The grief and mourning was based on a common value: that of appreciation of life and of the wasted potential among the 80 or so young men and women who were indiscriminately shot while on their political camp retreat.

Life as we know it

It is normal for a nation to mourn its dead. When the dead are the result of an extremist rampage and include large numbers of people in their youthful prime there is no end to the sense of loss. Society values life. Even the most savage of communities understands the importance and value of life − life is not and cannot be treated lightly. There is a reason why murder ranks above theft or larceny in a criminal code. It is the most obvious demonstration of the importance of life to a society. From Hammurabi to the modern day, life has been treated as the most precious gift and the taking of a life was conversely the most severe of punishments. Life, as we know it, can never be treated lightly.

If we zoom out of the zone of operations of a Christian Fundamentalist in Norway and zoom into Somalia’s regions run by Muslim extremists, we find another example of the abuse of life for the sake of some twisted political agenda. The Al-Shabab Islamists have denied western aid agencies access to the famine stricken parts of Somalia because they believe that reports of famine are all part of “Western propaganda”. The Al-Shabab control regions − Bakool and Lower Shamble − that are among the worst struck by droughts and are still refusing access to the much-needed aid agencies.

Real life choices are being made daily in the regions immediately outside Somalia’s capital Mogadishu. The image of mothers wrapping material tightly around their stomachs in order not to feel hunger pains and save whatever food found for their offspring was an image of ultimate sacrifice. It’s a recurrent story in our “civilisation” − whenever the tyrant or the crazed mass murder has left his mark, you will also find symbols of human self-sacrifice: forgoing their own right to a life in order to save others. We build our greatest narratives around this idea − from the sacrifice of sons of gods to the last Harry Potter installation when even the young wizard has to die for a while (apologies for the mini-spoiler) in order to save the world of Muggles and magic.

Sacrifice

The latest news from Norway describes the attacker as a Christian extremist. We’re dealing with labels here. As a friend commented on Facebook, you cannot describe the work of this man as madness because there is no folly in the manner of execution. This is the work of someone with twisted principles and whose value of life is severely handicapped by a tunnel vision that can only be damaging. There was a kind of sense of relief to note that the hand of al Qaeda and all things claiming to be “Muslim inspired” was not remotely present this time round. The stereotypical assessments (big bomb, big attack therefore Muslim extremists must be behind it Q.E.D) fell on their face rather quickly and there is a lesson to be learnt there too about making rash value judgements on the face of appearances.

This week we had the opportunity to learn an equally important set of lessons in Malta too. The tragic death of young Eritrean Ashih while trying to save the life of a French person at sea gave us a first, important example. Ashih had faced the perils and terrors of open sea in his gamble to start a new life away from the troubles he left behind. He had survived the first part of his Iliad and begun to build a new life in Malta. This was the Malta whose louder members tend to remind men like him that it has no use for them… that they better return to their homeland. I am sure that when he jumped into the sea he did not think for one instant that this would be his last jump. There would have been no time to think that anyway for his thoughts were selfless and his mind was focused on saving the life of another person. Which is why we should be all the more thankful and respectful to the memory of Ashih.

A life in jeopardy

Another life that is in the news this week is that of Emmanuel Cini. The man whose latest label in life is that of “disabled man” has chosen to go on a hunger strike until Austin Gatt resigns his position as minister and Arriva mends its ways. Cini’s plight hit national headlines on his second day of starving and soon became the darling and hero of those who had been making a living out of complaining about the transport system. The nation’s gossip circles got so carried away by the apparent “guts”, “balls” and more demonstrated by the poor moribund that it seemed that nobody asked themselves the simple question: “Is a faulty transport system worth dying for?”

Sure, Cini did colour his protest with the idea that he is a “prisoner in his own home” but somehow the whole shebang did have a ring of “false prima donna” about it. It definitely does not matter to the cause of protesting faulty public transport whether Cini is a bona fide sick person or an ex-gay porn star or an ex-drama teacher or an ex-claimant for other state benefits or an ex-classical radio host, but slowly there is a jigsaw puzzle of clues that point to the conclusion that the kind of help someone like Cini needs goes beyond a direct bus to St Thomas Bay from his doorstep.

His “cause” is in no way aided by those who glorify his actions and equate him to some modern day Mahatma Gandhi without pointing out the absurd disproportionality in his “ends and means” calculations. I’d hate to think that there are idiots out there who would secretly hope for to him pass away simply to be able to lump his death on Austin Gatt’s conscience.

By day five of his hunger strike Emmanuel Cini mysteriously disappeared from the mainstream press reporting. Although some people had begun to unearth his very colourful (and interesting) past, the general reaction in the press was one of silence. It may be all the better for him − his cause can never be successful because it is one that is based on a faulty premise: that the teething problems of Arriva are worth dying for. It is a premise that makes a mockery of the value of life and needs to be changed before it is too late. Cini may be in too fragile a state to notice that at most he can be a temporary tool for yet another bandwagon of opportunist jerks. It is hopefully not too late for him to change his ill-advised choice.

Life is beautiful

It is stories like these that can help us appreciate the beauty of life notwithstanding all moments of adversity. “La vita é bella” said the poet who could see it in the smallest and most insignificant of moments. At times all it takes is learning to appreciate the world around you − minus the prejudice, minus the intolerance and minus the grudges we build over time. And smile. Enjoy life… you (probably) only get one chance to do it and it would be such a shame to live to regret it.

www.akkuza.com still thinks life is beautiful notwithstanding the greyest and coldest summer in our seven years of Luxembourg life. Log on to the site for further fun tips on how to carpe diem.

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