How tragic was my tragedy? - Triumph vs. tragic

[catbuglah]

You show us this magnificent talent, this accomplished artist, a man who changed every form of major American media, much admired in the greater world, staggering around wearing padded silks, and strange hats, in a spurious costume drama, so he can finance his own projects and keep himself afloat.

That is some kind of tragedy. Not unique, but a tragedy, all the same.
Glenn Anders

The classical tragic esthetic is a wonderful philosophical and existencial literary tradition - I love Aeschylus - Certainly tragedy is a fundamental theme in Welles' films - they're essentially one big series of variations on a tragic theme - (although I wonder what it would be like to read all of Welles' 60 or so unfilmed screen plays - would it be a constant tragic leitmotive, or more like Shakespeare, a mix of tragedy, comedy, history, romance?) and I'm not arguing that there are important tragic aspects to Welles' life - my point of contention is more to the degree of our silver screen Lucifer's fall from grace. (My main difficulty is how does one encapsulate to vastness of Welles' life in a manageable single presentation? My favorite solution would be something like 2 4-hour DVD's - one presenting a biography of Welles' - using the maximum of audio-visuals - interviews, pictures, etc... and a second DVD with a chronological 'best of' series of clips covering as much as possible in all media, his own films, uncredited in other films, acting monologues, talk show performances, etc...) But the question seems to have considerable legs, so I opened a separate thread in the General Discussion area to see if it can fly on its own tragic wings of destiny...

Evidently, to have tragedy one as to have a prior triumph, to have a fall, there need be a prior rise, so I like to keep in mind both sides of the coin i.e. triumph/tragedy - rise/fall.

Any thoughts on this?

[Tashman]

The catalyst for this was THE TARTARS. If there's something tragic in its snapshot of Welles, it should be that DON QUIXOTE is the other ingredient--because the missing ingredient--in that view.

Holding up the personal film that was never finished against a presumably silly (I've not seen it) "epic" that was funded and finished and seen, and which coincided with Welles trying to get QUIXOTE made, all this has some suggestion of sadness and futility. Except any tragic note would not be at the expense of THE TARTARS or a silly hat.

It might be at the expense of the man in love with the tiger that is slowly mauling him to death. That is, if a person can be mauled to death slowly. (I'm talking here of his love for filmmaking, by the way, not his love for Oja as in a recent theory.) Or possibly it would be at the expense of the quixotic man who, in chasing down ideal visions, gives too little attention to the real things he could be doing to greater outward fulfillment and recognition. But the quixotic man is not exclusively a tragic man.

Besides these, there must be many other tragical views on the matter, including one in which The Big Ugly Society is to blame for its vulgar preferences and power. But whatever combination of quasi-tragic elements is perceptible here, JOURNEY INTO FEAR reminds us that there is probably nothing Welles remembered more fondly about THE TARTARS than getting to wear a big absurd hat to work every day and ham it up. The only way I can think of this as a tragic blemish is if, like the boy who cried wolf, audiences were gradually excused in not taking Welles seriously even when he got dressed up AND also had a purpose.

But the whole point of mentioning JOURNEY INTO FEAR is that the "tragic" conceit can be an excuse to over-romanticize Welles' golden youth. It's possible that the older Welles is sometimes measured against the imaginary conquests of C F Kane rather than his own tangible history. This makes for easy portraiture, but it's not always terribly useful. And Welles' story is full of enough sadness without inventing things to be sad about.

[R Kadin]

One of the things Welles was most remembered for by those who worked with him was his ever-ready and booming laugh. And nothing seemed to delight him more than confronting absurdity in all its incarnations. Even the absurdity of chasing after an unfinishable but undoubtedly sublime Quixote while being pursued for others' eminently finishable and ridiculous projects would not have been lost on him for an instant. And his likely response would have been to have roared in Falstaffian merriment at it all.

Like the rest of us, here, I have seen and been affected by that interview moment when Welles so touchingly sums up his latter years as having been far too devoted to scrounging for funds. The expression on his face as he volunteers the admission is haunting enough almost to make one think that he, himself, saw his career in tragic terms, thereby suggesting the Master's own endorsement of the subject of this thread.

But I'd advise extreme caution to anyone thinking of heading down that road. Welles was far too aware of the artifice behind even the greatest works to make the mistake of validating his life by paralleling it romantically with the classic tragedies. Indeed, there's reason to believe that Welles thought many tragic heroes in literature to be exceedingly risible sorts and abysmal role models, especially for himself.

Which is not to say that Welles could not have become such a figure on his own, regardless. And for those inclined to argue in that direction, if it gives you a better handle on the man and the artist, by all means have at it. Almost anything that deepens the appreciation of this remarkable personage is to be encouraged. It's just that I don't think Welles would have shared in such a perception - and much to his credit, IMHO.

Far more than a need to finish, Welles had an irrepressible need to do, to create. It was in the actual doing that he found the greater fulfillment, not the showing-after-the-fact. It's a trait common to many of those whose portal to the business was live theatre, one that can account in part, perhaps, for the open-endedness of so many of his projects. While some might read tragedy, or at least disapointment, into so many arguably "incomplete" works, I'd posit that Welles would have seen in them the irresistible and invigorating promise of more still needing to be done. That's why he could look at today's setbacks and laugh so heartily: to his mind, as long as there was breath within him, the story was never over and the darkness would always succumb to the dawn.

There is, also, the possibility that Welles' demeanour in that recounted moment might have been, in part, a calculated play for sympathy in the hopes of soliciting (financial) support from someone, anyone, who might see the interview. When one is forced to live by his wits, one uses the skills survival requires and Welles was no stranger to the actor's tools that might be useful in advancing his cause.

Of his career, he once memorably offered the theory that each of us, in this life, is accorded only so much luck. It just so happened that most of his came all at once and early on. Then he arched back and laughed. It's that laugh I choose to remember: in its basso profundo resonance, that fleeting and haunted expression is consumed and disappears as quickly as a little wooden sled in a blazing furnace.

[NoFake]

It seems almost blasphemous to follow R Kadin’s eloquence with something practical, but there’s a connection, so I’ll hazard the post. This evening I attended a reading by two authors whose short stories are characterized by wry, witty, sometimes scathing observations on family and society. Responding to a question from the audience regarding the differences in people’s reactions to their work – some laughed, while others winced, and at the same places – one of them remarked that Kafka had a similar problem: When reading excerpts from his “Metamorphosis” to friends in the local bar, he would laugh his head off at what he saw as its absurdity, while they found it tragic, and were completely perplexed by his reaction.

Didn’t Orson say something similar about THE TRIAL? I seem to remember something along those lines, but can’t put my finger on it...

[Roger Ryan]

There's a story Bogdanovich told about not really enjoying "The Trial" until Welles told him he should view it as an absurdist comedy. Later, he and Welles attended a screening together and laughed throughout...much to the bewilderment of other audience members who were taking the film very seriously.

[NoFake]

Of COURSE! Thank you, Roger.

[NoFake]

Going back to my TIOW, I see that Welles told Bogdanovich he liked Kafka very much. So it's conceivable that he knew the story about Kafka and "Metamorphosis." It certainly would add an interesting twist to the interview...

[Kevin Loy]

Regarding The Metamorphosis...there is a certain amount of absurdity to the story, but I've always felt that the plight was tragic, as opposed to being humorous.

But, regarding Welles, I don't think of him as being tragic. I think that there were numerous tragedies both in his personal and professional life, and perhaps it could be argued that his life was ultimately a failure, but at least it was a failure on his own terms...the only terms that anybody should know. Maybe it is tragic to say so, but I think it is better to fail on your own terms than to succeed on somebody else's.

[NoFake]

"Those are the only terms anyone ever knows... his own"

[Kevin Loy]

I'm glad you picked up on that

[NoFake]

I suspected that's why you posted it... :;):

[Glenn Anders]

We should not confuse "tragic" with "pathetic." There is not anything necessarily wrong with being tragic, as you suggest. Some of the work Welles found himself forced to do was pathetic, and some of his personal qualities made up his tragic flaw. But his life and career were both heroic and tragic, not pathetic.

Glenn

[catbuglah]

DON QUIXOTE is the other ingredient--because the missing ingredient (T-man)

That's the one I'd like to see re-assembled one day...hopefully...

in which The Big Ugly Society is to blame for its vulgar preferences and power.(Tashman)

Is Welles tragically flawed himself or is he a misunderstood genius marginalized by a technocratic, soul-destroying, culturally bankrupt, consumer-competition robot society? I'll take the latter view for now.

But I'd advise extreme caution to anyone thinking of heading down that road. Welles was far too aware of the artifice behind even the greatest works to make the mistake of validating his life by paralleling it romantically with the classic tragedies.(RKdin)

Good advice. and with his own films...

It was in the actual doing that he found the greater fulfillment, not the showing-after-the-fact.(RKdin)

Looks that way. At least HE had that satisfaction of seeing many of his projects in complete or near-complete form.

Welles was no stranger to the actor's tools that might be useful in advancing his cause. (RKadin)

In TIOW, he seems to me a masterful spin-doctor, and quite lucid (at least retrospectively) in regards to his professional conundrums, quite clear and self-aware on his position and situation.

I see that Welles told Bogdanovich he liked Kafka very much. (NoFake)

And Kafka didn't want the Trial to be published at all...

and perhaps it could be argued that his life was ultimately a failure, but at least it was a failure on his own terms...the only terms that anybody should know. Kevin Loy

I remember reading a quote I think from Jaglom where he relates that The Big Brass Ring was given the go-ahead with DeNiro, but Welles disagreed with the choice and chose not to do it.

We should not confuse "tragic" with "pathetic."(Glenn Anders)

My understanding of tragedy is that a) it is usually related to a certain greatness or heroism in a person whose sad predicament is a 'hubris' with metaphysical implications casued by the protagonist's own flaws or trangressions and b)the sadness is tempered by a resolution or redemption (the protagonist seeks atonement or receives just punishment) which restores the providential balance.

I have my own theory on the tragedy quotient in Orson's life, it involves the existance of a secret, evil world governement, Orson's role as an international spy and his real relationship with Howard Hugues, extra-terrestrial contact, and certain suggestive passages in apocryphal, apocalyptic prophetic scripture, but I've been sworn to secrecy. Trust no one. The truth is out there. (Just joking - I believe the ancient three-part Greek tragedy presentations traditionally ended with a comedy.)

[Kevin Loy]

Regarding Welles as being flawed...well, we all are, to some extent. The greater query, though, is whether these flaws really defined him. I'm not quite sure where I stand on that, because I think that we're all defined by our flaws to some extent, though you could reason (for example) that Orson's penchant for indulgence did define him, to some extent. But, of course, is indulgence really a flaw, or is it just unpopular?

And Glenn, I didn't mean to insinuate that "tragic" and "pathetic" are the same things. And I don't think that all failures are pathetic either, which is why I consented that, if he did fail, it was on his own terms. Failure is tragic in itself, simply by association (though, of course, success can also be quite tragic, if that success is ultimately meaningless), but I don't think there's anything pathetic about an artist who had to hustle to bring a little bit of beauty into a world that systematically (then and now) rejected it with no remorse.

It is difficult to reasonably look at this, though, without taking into account an artist's point of view...and while I do hate the term "artist", as an independent musician of sorts, I'll contribute my own POV. What defines success in the typical worldview? Generally, most "normal" people would think that somebody who has a good job making a lot of money with a nice home and a family is successful, with the amount of success resting upon their financial security. But, as an "artist", I'd disagree with that. Comfort is nice, but what is the use of any of it? As an artist, the greatest success that I could ever hope to have isn't based on how much money I make or how many awards a soul-less industry hands out to itself, but is based on doing something that actually matters to somebody else. Of course, like most artists, I do primarily work for myself and hope that the same things that affect me about my work will resonate with others.

So, was Welles' life really tragic? Maybe by the standards of a "normal" mortal. But Welles' devotion to his muse, more than anything else, is what defines him for me. And I'd hardly call his life a tragedy, even if there were tragic elements.

[catbuglah]

Hear, hear.

Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!
John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part,
And France, whose armour conscience buckled on,
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field
As God's own soldier, rounded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil,
That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith,
That daily break-vow, he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids,
Who, having no external thing to lose
But the word 'maid,' cheats the poor maid of that,
That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling Commodity,
Commodity, the bias of the world,
The world, who of itself is peised well,
Made to run even upon even ground,
Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias,
This sway of motion, this Commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent:
And this same bias, this Commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determined aid,
From a resolved and honourable war,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace.
And why rail I on this Commodity?
But for because he hath not woo'd me yet:
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand,
When his fair angels would salute my palm;
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail
And say there is no sin but to be rich;
And being rich, my virtue then shall be
To say there is no vice but beggary.
Since kings break faith upon commodity,
Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee.


King John

Act 2, Scene 1