Friday Free-for-All #69: Phobia, city, actor, trend

Here’s the next in an ongoing series in which I answer random questions generated by a website. Here are this week’s questions. Feel free to give your own answers or ask your own questions in the comments.

What would be the worst thing to have a phobia of?

This question reminds me of a quote attributed to Morgan Freeman, although he never said it. “I hate the word ‘homophobia.’ It‘s not a phobia. You are not scared. You’re an asshole.” It came from a now suspended Twitter account called Tweets from god that used a picture of Freeman from the movie Bruce Almighty, where Freeman played god.

Now, granted, it has a lot more impact if you hear it in his voice.

So, by definition, I’m not going to include things that are called phobias, like homophobia or transphobia, because they do not come from fear, but rather from ignorance and hatred. Oh, they are very bad feelings to have, to be sure, but I doubt that anyone seriously starts quaking in fear on sight of member of the LGBTQ+ community.

If they did, we wouldn’t have any hate crimes because the would-be attackers would be running away.

So, if we get into true phobias, which do induce panic and anxiety if not outright terror, there’s a very long list of them. Probably the worst and most debilitating one to have, though, would be anthropophobia, which is a fear of all other people, regardless of the circumstances under which you run into them.

This includes not just random strangers, but rather everyone — friends and family included. It sounds like a perfect diagnosis for Emily Dickinson, actually. She could write you a mean poem, but would prefer to never see you in person.

It’s far different from and far worse than social phobia, which was reclassified as social anxiety disorder anyway. At least with these two, you can go outside and conduct routine business without going into a total panic attack. But if you have anthropophobia, then you should probably live alone in an isolated shack on a remote, unpopulated island, and hope that you don’t also have cynophobia.

What city would you most like to live in?

The main consideration is somewhere that’s not going to be burnt out in a heatwave, flooded by rising tides, or have more than a handful of Trump 2024 campaign signs within the county limits, with four of those preferably all being on the same property.

Then there’s the affordability issue, because this question has both “money is no object” and “you have to be able to afford it” versions.

Without regard to affordability, I’d probably opt for the Bay Area, preferably a place from which San Francisco would be easily accessible at any time, but in more of a flat, suburban layout — I’d rather have a modest house on a big lot with a pool and privacy than an in-city Victorian with multiple floors, big rooms and windows, and no yard space.

So it would definitely be either to the east or south of the City, although swimming pools don’t seem to be that common up there. San José is also an interesting option. It reminds me a lot of L.A. and the San Fernando Valley, and isn’t that far from San Francisco, either.

If we want to go realistic, then I’d have to take my California income to somewhere where it would buy me that house and yard — but since I work from home, my location is a little less important. The trick, of course, is finding a place.

I wouldn’t want to be anywhere prone to tornadoes, so that leaves out a big chunk in the middle of the country. And while I love thunderstorms and the like, those places also come with ridiculous heat and humidity in the summer. I can handle Palm Springs, even if it did get up to Death Valley temps, because there’s no water in the air and it’s easy to sweat and cool down.

But I’ve been in much cooler yet more humid weather in Texas, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York and… no thank you. a dry 110°F (43.3°C) summer day in Los Angeles is far more pleasant than a humid 95°F (35°C) summer day in Pennsylvania any day.

Okay, we can get a touch muggy in L.A. because we’re near the ocean — but the canyons between the L.A. Basin in the south and the San Fernando Valley in the north keep a nice airflow going that also helps dry the atmosphere out and, even on the hottest of days, we often get fog up along the ridgeline that is Mulholland drive, where the trip up from one side turns into the trip down into the other.

And, honestly, if the affordability thing were not an issue, I’d probably stay in L.A. and buy the house here.

If you were an actor, what kind of roles do you think you would be good at?

There’s no “if” on this one, and I know what kind of roles I’m good at. For one thing, I have an affinity and knack for playing non-human characters — a depressed bear, a Jesus figure with supernatural powers, the Grim Reaper, a zombie Pope… those are a few of my favorites that I’ve actually done.

And yes, while a couple of those were in human form, I consider their powers as putting them into an entirely different category.

When it comes to humans, I’ve discovered an ability to play ones that are awkward and easily intimidated, or who are only brave when the danger has passed. For example, I once played a friar who kept his mouth shut until after the threatening knights had left the building, and then he went off in a fiery and threatening monologue solely for the benefit of his fellow monks and the women hanging around in the cathedral.

I did this a lot in improv, too, choosing to play a so-called “low-status” character because it’s fun to be the butt-monkey in a scene. Yes, that’s a real term, although you can use “chew-toy” if you prefer.

I also love ensemble roles, because it affords a chance to work closely with fellow actors and create the background and mood that supports the leads. Hey — I’ve got no problems at all using my concentration to put focus on the most important speaker on the stage at any given moment, and it’s also a lot of fun.

Of course, I have had my time playing the villain, and in those cases I find that going 180° from who I really am is the key — big, loud, brash, and bigoted. Although, if you want to learn how to play a villain the best, go no further than studying Alan Rickman’s performance as Hans Gruber in Die Hard.

All of the best villains have two traits in common: 1) They’re the hero in their own story, period. 2) They do not show their villainy by being threatening or loud or over the top. The scariest villains smile and whisper.

What trend are you tired of?

I’m not sure whether I’m more tired of the endless parade of super-hero movies of of social media influencers. However, as Marvel starts their 4th wave, it sounds like they might be getting tired of the super-hero thing as well, and might be taking the characters but putting them in different genres.

Ironically, as a kid I was into DC but not Marvel. As an adult, I can tolerate the occasional Marvel film, but have found nothing to like in any DC movies except for both Deadpool films but, then again, he was the super-hero who could say “fuck.”

If only they could do a Deadpool/Star Lord crossover…

Now, Wandavision was good, although I could not get past the first half of the first episode of Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I haven’t ventured into Loki yet, but I probably will once all of the episodes are up.

As for the influencers, I do have to admit that there are a few TikTokkers I’ve wound up finding via Instagram and I do follow if only because I find them amusing. But, at the same time, they generally don’t seem to be trying to sell me anything, and are often genuinely funny and entertaining.

Oh, they’re probably marketing stuff out their asses and it’s just that I’m nowhere near their likely target demographic of teens. But that’s okay.

I think that the bunch which infiltrated my feed are all kind of related, and as far as I can tell, they’re based in Orange County, California. They may or may not collectively be called The Squad. But some of the names are The Stokes Twins (Alan and Alex), Brent Rivera, Ben Azelert, and Jeremy Hutchins.

Generally, they all alternate between short comedy routines, well-choreographed TikTok dances, lip-synced dialogue moments, and pranking each other. Speaking of which, I remember reading that the Stokes Twins were arrested sometime last year in Orange County for pulling a prank involve a fake bank-robbery escape through a crowded outdoor public mall, although that story vanished from the news, and they never mentioned it.

Maybe they’re actually as rich as their videos make them seem, and they just bought their way out of it.

Now, speaking of apparently rich as hell, there’s Danny Duncan, who somehow crept into my feed, and I’m very ambivalent about him. on the one hand he often comes across in his videos as very warm and genuine, and someone who truly cares about his friends and family.

On the other hand, he can quite often be a quite destructive little asshole doing his own private version of Jackass, Jr. Now, he’s almost a decade older than the squad, but I’ve watched him destroy his own Tesla intentionally, give one away to a fan in a contest, pull all kinds of stupid stunts in moving vehicles (including driving at ludicrous speeds in traffic), and destroy a door with his head.

I’m not sure exactly how he became rich and famous, either, despite trying to find the answers on-line. He sells a ridiculous amount of branded (and somewhat overpriced) merch with slogans like “Virginity Rocks,” “Fet’s Luck!” and “Big Dick Is Back,” and at at least one point in the past went on a multi-city tour with live shows that seemed to constantly sell out.

One of his other venues is Danny’s Cream Pies, which has long existed in Florida, with a restaurant made to look like a walk-up ice cream truck. His products are stupidly cheap ice cream and the like, and ridiculously expensive merch.

He opened a second store in Los Angeles earlier this month, on Fairfax near Canter’s Deli, with the same menu and prices, and during its opening weekend, the line to the door ran multiple blocks. Granted, it was stretched out by social distancing, but it was still of 70s blockbuster movie proportions.

And I’m still not sure how I feel about him. On the one hand, he’s obviously had huge success doing this, is generous with his fortune, and a generally accepting all around when it comes to age, physical ability, sexual orientation, and so on.

But he also still has that chaotic and destructive energy that often makes him just seem like a fourteen-year-old boy who can afford to destroy whatever he wants just because it’s fun.

The scary part, really, is that he has so many fans who don’t seem to have any issues with the negative parts even as they focus on the positives.

And that’s probably the biggest issue with influencers. Their influence is quite obvious and visible. Whatever entity is managing it behind the scenes is hidden.

Like I mentioned, some of them don’t even have any visible sponsors, although the branded clothing can be obvious. And a lot of them do giveaways like they’re McDonald’s or Coca-Cola. The Stokes Twins often have YouTube competitions with friends where they pay the winner $10,000, for example, and while they sell some of their own merch, they don’t seem to plug it all that often.

Still, every last one of these kids is clearly just the marketable front for someone who’s raking in the big bucks thanks to their online work. And remember what they say: If a huge company offers you something for free, beware, because what they’re really selling is you.

Influencers are just the far more subtle version of product placement and celebrity endorsements.

Theatre Thursday: On the shoulders of giants

A while back, I wrote about two writers who had a big influence on me, one directly in real life, and the other stylistically. But I’ve also been influenced by four film directors, one of whom directly inspired me to stupidly pursue a career in this business. Unlike one of the writers above, I never met any of them, and they all also happen to be dead now.

In a nutshell, and in order of influence, those directors are Stanley Kubrick, Alfred Hitchcock, Ken Russell, and Nicolas Roeg. Sure, four old, white British men (Kubrick being an American ex-pat), but I didn’t know better as a kid, okay? All I knew was that my dad took me to see Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey during one of those many times when the Cinerama Dome opened a would-be blockbuster that bombed, so they had to fill time with something else — and this movie blew Star Wars right out of the water. It was Science Fiction that felt real. There was no sound in space, the movie took its time, the soundtrack was mostly classical music in a future context, and I walked out of that first viewing thinking, “Yeah. I want to do this.”

Present me would love to time travel back to then, grab that kid by the shoulders and shout in his face, “No, dumbass. You want to figure out how to make enough money to pay other people to do this for you so you’ll be richer than Croesus.”

Young me wouldn’t have listened.

Anyway, a few years later, I discovered the several “Art House” cinemas in Los Angeles like the Nuart Theater, mainly because I noticed that they showed other Kubrick films. They also didn’t seem to really pay a lot of attention to ratings, so I could get my young ass into R-rated films. Note: There are absolutely no penalties, legal or otherwise, for a theater not following the MPAA ratings when they sell tickets. None. Nada, and one theater openly defied an NC-17 rating. It’s all smoke and mirrors, folks. So anybody can go to an R-rated movie. It’s just the idea that ratings are some legal bar that makes them effective. But I do digress…

So I worked my way through the Kubrick oeuvre, then stumbled into Hitchcock, and while he created in a G-rated world, his films were just as amazing for different reasons. Kubrick’s works are all about Big Ideas passed through the filter of human experience. 2001 deals with the evolution of the human species, past and future; Clockwork Orange handles crime and punishment; Dr. Strangelove takes on war and peace; Barry Lyndon is all about the class system, and so on.

Hitchcock, though, was all about plot, especially when layered with suspense. Kubrick would make you think. Hitchcock would make you sit on the edge of your seat and clench your butt. Hitch was also far more prolific than Kubrick, which is why I think that there isn’t a single Kubrick film I don’t love, but I’m not a fan of every Hitchcock film.

The ones that really bowl me over, though, are North by Northwest, Rear Window, Vertigo, The Man Who Knew Too Much, and Rope. Oops… Psycho isn’t on that list? Well, for me it’s not, because it really doesn’t stack up against the others. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a great film, but in the context of the rest of his works, it’s actually on the lower end of the scale.

The other thing that struck me about both of these directors, though, is that they were technical innovators. Both of them constantly came up with new ways to do things on film. Hitchcock actually has a particular shooting technique named after him, and Kubrick managed to out-Star Wars Star Wars a decade before Star Wars without a single computer in sight.

After Hitchcock, though, those art house movies led me to another director who worked on a completely different plane, but to whom I clung immediately: Ken Russell. And if Kubrick specialized in ideas while Hitchcock mastered in plot, I’d have to say that Russell’s playing field dealt with emotions in general, or fantasies specifically. His biopics were amazing exercises in giving us emotional truths through metaphors.

Three in particular, each of which dealt with famous composers, run the scale (pun intended) from lightest to heaviest in fantasy: The Music Lovers, about Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, with some fantasy sequences, but not a lot; Mahler, about the composer Gustav Mahler, about half and half; and Lizstomania, almost entirely fantasy and, while it seems to be the most off-the-rails of them all in covering the life of Franz Lizst, it is actually the most accurate in its metaphorical way, because Lizst really was the first rock star, even if it happened 120 years before the Beatles.

Russell used fantasies and dreams to explore the emotional life of his characters, and it is beautiful. He’s another director with an oeuvre limited enough that I think I’ve seen almost all of his films, and while I have ups and downs, I don’t think there are many I don’t like. For calibration purposes, I’d rank Lair of the White Worm as worst, and the aforementioned Mahler as best.

After Russell, the art houses introduced me to another influence, a director named Nicolas Roeg. And the thing he specialized in was playing with time. Not a single one of his films took place in chronological order, and this was what taught me the power of editing. He’s probably best well-known for a film that most people haven’t seen but only know about because David Bowie starred in it: The Man Who Fell to Earth. And here’s the thing. This is one damn difficult movie to sit through, and it wasn’t my first Roeg film, so I came to it knowing his style.

Here’s the order I learned Roeg, as far as I can remember. Don’t Look Now, which is an amazing and stylish suspense horror film that isn’t gory, starring Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie; Walkabout, which deals with issues of privilege at a time when that wasn’t even a concept, as White Girl and White Boy (literally their names in the credits) are dumped in the Australian outback by their suicidal father, only to be saved by an aboriginal Black Boy who is on his Walkabout, which is a right of passage for his belief system. Needless to say, guess who it doesn’t end well for.

And before I got to The Man Who Fell to Earth, I also saw Roeg’s first big “Hey, look at me” movie, Performance, which actually gave us an incredible, well, um, performance from a young, often nude, and sexy Mick Jagger.

But the most important takeaway for me from Roeg’s films was this. Do not tell your story in chronological order. Tell it in emotional order. If the thing that happens in normal Act 3 seems meaningless then, but can serve as set-up for later, then move it up. And if the thing from Act 1 that seems meaningless up front takes on power later, move it down.

Put them all together, and this is where my playwriting goes: Stories about big ideas that are still very plotted, but which also use fantasy and surrealism to explore emotional truths, and tend to not take place in chronological order. In fact, only one of my produced full-length plays takes place in literal time, and that happens to be the first one produced.

And so there you go. I constantly play with ideas, plots, emotions, and chronology. The big idea comes first, and I build the story from that via plots that are driven by emotions. Once that’s in place, I chop the story up and order it based not on when, but on how the emotions drive the timeline and the plot. And this is how four very different directors created my artistic vision.

(Not noted above, Terry Gilliam, who I didn’t realize really was an influence at first, but taught me the idea of not taking anything too seriously, least of all yourself, and also confirmed that I was playing the game of cut and paste creativity properly.)

So who are your major influences? What have you taken from them, and how do you use that? Tell us in the comments!

Friday Free for all #49: Tech, annoyed, coming, wish

The next in an ongoing series in which I answer random questions generated by a website, although it’s been on hiatus since the Christmas Countdown began. Here, I resume with this week’s questions. Feel free to give your own answers in the comments.

Which emerging technology are you most excited about?

Without a doubt, it would be CRISPR, which uses gene-editing in order to mitigate or cure serious diseases, many of them genetic. One way to think of it is that CRISPR functions as a pair of scissors that allows scientists to literally edit genes, and genomes.

It gets all kinds of sciency, but the short version is that this technology could one day achieve things like undoing genetic birth defects, curing inherited diseases, or even reverse aging by lengthening the telomeres on the end of our chromosomes.

What is something that is popular now that annoys you?

Influencers. Okay, not so much them per se, because I do find a lot of their videos entertaining. Rather, it’s their followers, who make the same mistake about this particular media that all the rest of us, when we were that young, did about whatever was the prominent media of our time.

I.E. that these people are our friends and care one bit about us.

Nope. They only exist to turn you into product for whatever corporate overlords they’re shilling for. It was the same when your parents were hanging on everything that (corporate) MTV VJs said and they geeked out over how “edgy” all the (corporate) videos were, or when your grandparents totally ate up rock and roll as it was sold to them via… ta-da… corporations like radio stations (the streaming service of the day) as well as corporate shills like Ed Sullivan, who was the old man influencer who brought the Beatles and the Rolling Stones to the U.S.

Even your great-grandparents wound up listening to all the big bands and singers who were radio approved during WW II, and probably also performed overseas, but only in government sanctioned USO shows.

See a pattern there? If you’re under 25 and it’s getting shoved in your face through tech, it’s probably an illusion created by your corporate overlords. I mean, after all, how is it otherwise possible for some just-turned-18 dude with no apparent day job to buy a warehouse, or for a 27-year-old-douche to be able to own properties in L.A. and Florida and to capriciously buy and destroy multiple vehicles, a Tesla among them?

I won’t mention any names, but if you know, you know.

What are you looking forward to in the coming months?

This question has been in the queue for a while. BTS clip: I’ve compiled a list of 42 questions from the website in question and use a pair of random number generators to reorder them, then give a suggestion, although I don’t always take the first suggestion. It’s a combination of random and mood.

This question kept getting suggested all through 2020, and I kept ignoring it because my answer was, “Hell if I know.” Now it’s 2021, and I finally have an answer. Well, two.

On the grander scale, I’m hoping that in the coming months the U.S. can fix the terrible mistakes of the last four years, as well as get us to a point where we’ve dealt enough with this plague to be able to return to some sort of normalcy.

Now, I have no illusions that live theatre, or indoor restaurants, or large public gatherings will be a thing before late 2021 or early 2022. But what I do hope is that every single negative change made by the previous administration is quickly undone by the current one.

Bring back protections for the environment and various marginalized classes of people. Resume agreements meant to protect the climate and wildlife. Ban drilling on protected lands. Then go further. Move away from fossil fuels and toward renewables, work on raising the minimum wage, providing a universal basic income, adjusting the tax structure so that the wealthy pay more than their fair share and the working poor pay next to nothing, and provide universal health care, student loan forgiveness and a reform of that whole corrupt system, then reform policing by reallocating fund so that police departments have mental health professionals and social workers to send out on cases more appropriate to them, leading to fewer young POC because the only police response they got was a knee on the ncek.

Oh… and statehood for DC, Puerto Rico, and the Virgin Islands, abolishing the Electoral College, increasing the number of Senators per state and making those numbers proportional, increasing the ability of people to vote early and by mail, pushing for a national system of redistricting via algorithm instead of partisan committee to kill Gerrymandering, and kick it all off with ending the Senate filibuster.

Somewhere along the way, either pack the fuck out of the Supreme Court, increasing its size to thirteen members to match the number of Federal Circuit Courts plus one presiding judge, or create a separate Constitutional Court and limit the jurisdiction of the Supreme Court.

Pauses to breathe. Okay. Did I forget anything?

My personal goals for the coming months are much simpler. I’ve suddenly come into circumstances where I will soon be able to have a dog in my life again, so that’s on my radar for somewhere around May. And that will make everything better again, whether or not everything in the first part of this entry happens.

Although almost everything in the first part of this entry damn well better happen before late 2022.

What do you really wish you knew when you were younger?

The same thing that everybody should know: Everyone else is just as insecure and scared, so you might as well be the bold one who does not give a single fuck. Be outspoken. Be ballsy. People will follow.

Just look at the history of pop stars over the ages. Which ones became enduring icons? The ones who said “fuck it” and marched to the beat of their own drummer.

David Bowie, anyone? He was a gender-bender from Mars from the beginning. Parents hated him and called him a freak. By the time he died, he was one of the most respected artists in the world. Q.V. Liberace and Elton John — flamboyant queens from two very different eras, but both went on to be ridiculously rich and famous.

This even includes the ones who maybe later went down in scandals, i.e. Boy George and George Michael.

If you don’t stand out from the crowd, you’ll never stand out, and there’s the lesson. Actually the lesson is this one: Never fear standing out from the crowd, because the more different you make yourself while being confidant in your difference, the more you’ll make everyone else want to follow.

Key word: Be confident in your difference. Announce loudly and proudly, “This is who I am,” and then just fucking be you.

Sunday Nibble #13: Taking pause

I don’t know what designation historians will come up with for the year 2020 — or even if it will be limited to just one year — but it will definitely be one of those great cultural markers that represents a hard stop, an irrefutable before and after point in human history.

It’s also going to have that significance in every single country and culture on the planet, and I can’t even think of a precedent in all of human history. There are certainly hard stops that had far-ranging though limited effects, like the fall of the Roman Empire, the end of the Aztec Empire, and the Reconquista, to mention three that mostly affected the western world.

Larger regions were affected by things like the Napoleonic Wars, and both the Great War and its unimaginatively named sequel World War II — but there were places that largely escaped the direct influence of those events. Asia, Australia, and most of Africa were untouched by Napoleon.

The World Wars may not have directly threatened every country on every continent, but may have indirectly changed things for them. It certainly changed world politics forever by leaving us with the Cold War and its aftermath.

This current plague is different in that no country on the planet has escaped it, and no person in the world is unaffected, period.

It’s as if the entire planet has become London in 1666, when the entire city was shut down by plague. The bad news there is that the thing that effectively ended it was the Great Fire of London, which destroyed densely populated and impoverished areas, driving out the rats that carried the fleas that were the ultimate cause of the disease. The true human death toll isn’t known.

Contemporary writers claimed that few people perished, but the fire burned so hot that entire communities could have been cremated without leaving any evidence behind.

It does feel, though, like we’re going to see another Great Fire in a metaphorical sense, as old institutions and ways collapse, never to exist again. If the lockdowns and lack of governmental help last long enough, then we may see widespread revolutions. At the very least, there may be general strikes that will starve the ruling classes of their income.

There is hope in the darkness, though, and I see it whenever I take the dog on a very limited walk and look up at the sky to see how clean it is. We’ve also had a lot more rain here than we’ve had for a while, and it’s unseasonal. It feels like the planet has decided to take a shower and clean up while we’re all inside.

I have friends who are at home sewing masks and others who are making videos or hosting shows on Zoom to keep people entertained. Still others are making sure that friends get things they need if they don’t have them, all while social distancing.

My improv group has been meeting regularly on Mondays via Zoom for some mutual self-care and to perform, and the main ComedySportz L.A. improv company itself has been having online shows that have been selling out every Saturday night.

I’ve seen very little in the way of stupid directly and for the most part people are maintaining social distance and wearing masks. The few moments of stupid I’ve seen haven’t been recent, and were in the grocery store, when a large group of people, generally youngish, and clearly probably not all living, together would come in to hit the liquor aisle and then all stand really close to each other.

Currently, the only stupid I’ve seen are the very few people who’ve gone to the grocery store without a mask or, extra special stupid, they’ve had a mask, but it’s pulled down so that it doesn’t cover their nose.

Sigh.

I do think that there’s a special place in hell, though, for a few Instagram “influencers” I’ve noticed who are still going out into the world to shoot their “OMG this is so fucking important” bullshit. I won’t mention names of the offenders, but one in particular was stupid enough to post time-stamped video of a bunch of unmasked people working in what I assume is some sort communal office space, or a group of people riding in the same van very close together.

Oh yeah, in that one, the person shooting also shows the speedometer, and ass-boy is doing 125 mph down the highway — while one of the group is standing in the back of the van.

I will mention one influencer who’s doing the right thing: Juanpa Zurita, who is stuck in isolation with his entire family somewhere in Mexico. They’ve been spending their time making masks and face guards for health care workers, not going outside, as well as pranking each other, and otherwise just being entertaining.

So, I don’t know. Maybe future historians will call this period “The Year When the World Stayed at Home,” or “The Great Pause,” or “The Global Reset.”

Another name for it might be “The Darwin Awards Ultimate World Championship.”

I am doing my best to not win any awards in that competition, and I hope that you are, too. Tomorrow was originally supposed to be the end of the lockdown here in L.A., but it was extended to May 15 over a week ago. I’m not holding out any hope that that date won’t be extended, either.

But whatever it takes to pull the planet through this, let’s just team up and do it.

Friday Free-for-All #6

In which I answer a random question generated by a website. Here’s this week’s question Feel free to give your own answers in the comments.

Is there any art or artist you are really into?

Oh, there are a lot, and it depends on the medium. I’ll start with a link to an artist I’m a big fan of because I’ve been a close personal friend of his for pushing two decades, and that’s Michael Lightsey.

And I’m not just saying that because we’re friends. I also happen to think that he is one hell of a talented artist, and I envy his abilities. I have two of his works hanging in my home — one a large abstract canvas and the other one of his amazing pencil portraits of me that is so accurate in its depiction that it’s uncanny, and which  was a Christmas gift at the end of the year in which I almost died.

Other visual artists I’m really into are a nice example in contrasts. I’m a big fan of Salvador Dalí, for example, for his surrealist works, but I’m also a huge fan of Michelangelo, mainly because he focused on the representation of human beings, and did it so well. Of course, he’s tied in this category with Da Vinci and Caravaggio. And yes, the homoeroticism of the works of the latter three have a lot to do with my interest in them.

If we’re going for pure modern kitsch, then yes, I have a soft spot for Norman Rockwell, but he could also be quite politically progressive.

Moving from visual media, let’s go to music. My three “classical” influences (although that just means “stuff before the 1950s” nowadays) would be Beethoven, actually classical composer who created romanticism; Gustav Mahler, a late romantic composer who ushered in modernism; and Dmitri Shostakovich, a modernist who has had more influence on modern Hollywood film scores than you’d think. Hint: Everything John Williams has ever written came out of a blender loaded with Shostakovich, Gustav Holst, and Carl Orff.

Moving into the truly modern and post-modern age, I’d have to give you Pink Floyd, Godley & Crème (who created the idea of morphing long before CGI in their video for Cry), and OK Go, who just blew the socks off of the idea of what could be done in music videos over a decade ago and haven’t stopped since. Not to mention that they are all just the nicest guys ever.

As for movies, give me my quartet of Hitchcock, Kubrick, Russell, and Gilliam, each of whom made pretty much nothing but perfect films, and three of whom are, sadly, dead.

All four of them had a huge influence on my creative life. Hitchcock taught me how to build suspense and raise the stakes while also subverting the usual tropes by playing into them and then making a big left turn. For example, one of his most suspenseful chase scenes doesn’t happen in a claustrophobic space. It happens in a wide open field in North by Northwest. And in what is probably his most well-known work, Psycho (spoiler alert for a 60 year-old film) he kills off the heroine played by the big-name actress in the first thirty minutes.

As for Kubrick, he taught me that films and all art should always be about big ideas, and that every story was more than the sum of its apparent parts. A lot of critics accuse him of being cold, but I never saw that. In fact, my favorite work of his is 2001: A Space Odyssey, because it spans the course of hundreds of thousands of years, doesn’t have a single protagonist, and asks really, really big questions while attempting to give answers.

Plus it created my love of science and science fiction. I didn’t really get into his other works until I was an adult, and by which point he’d created all but one of them before dying, but I devoured them all and could find no wrong in any of them. And each one is about something much bigger than the apparent genre.

Ken Russell, meanwhile, taught me to take no subject seriously, and just have fun with it. One of the things he frequently did were biopics, and he loved to do them out of order, or in the style of the art of the artist he was portraying. Go figure. Again, as with Kubrick, I don’t think I’ve ever met a Russell movie I didn’t love. Well… theatrical release. The stuff he started to shoot once he retired to his estate and thought he discovered green screen and social media is, well… kind of bad. But we don’t speak of that.

Otherwise… he banged off a series of solid hits that I devoured on the revival circuit (because, for some reason, most of his stuff never hit home media, and still hasn’t) He managed to turn a really shitty rock opera by The Who into a fairly decent movie called Tommy (although Pink Floyd’s The Wall and Alan Parker’s adaptation of it in the early 80s would blow Tommy out of the water), as well as create brilliant adaptations of the Weekend at Byron’s during which Frankenstein and Dracula were conceived (Gothic) and a mostly exacting staging of Oscar Wilde’s play Salome as a play-within-the movie Salome’s Last Dance, in which the conceit is that Oscar’s banned play is being staged in a Cleveland Street brothel (i.e., gay boy whorehouse in an area that the law was about to come down on hard because several politicians had been indiscrete.)

Finally, there’s Terry Gilliam, who started out with a silly comedy troupe you might have heard of, but then he went on to direct some really amazing shit. Where he really caught my attention was with Brazil, the best version of 1984 ever made, but he just kept getting better. 12 Monkeys knocked it out of the park, plus it proved that Brad Pitt could act and Bruce Willis could play more than Bruce Willis on screen.

Then again, Gilliam has always had a knack for actors. After all, he cast Uma Thurman in one of her earliest roles, and likewise cast Jonathan Pryce, and Andrew Garfield as leads. He also cast Heath Ledger in the lead before Brokeback Mountain and long before The Dark Knight, but also had the distinction of having directed Ledger’s last film. Oops.

And the only remainders, who were influences on my playwriting, you can look up: Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, Tennessee Williams, and Joe Orton.