Fran Lebowitz On HBO
I’m not a fan. I bought "Metropolitan Life" but never read it.
The hype for this film offended me, because it was just that. But it was ultimately minimal, a few stories over the weekend, then nothing.
But then began the word of mouth.
First from my mother.
Then from Jeff.
Last night I pulled "Public Speaking" up On Demand and it was so personal, so special, so enlightening, I felt such solidarity that I’m almost unwilling to share.
But I will.
Because if you’re a creator, especially a writer, if you think about the cultural landscape, in this documentary you’ll get a truth that seems to elude the mainstream media.
One, she’s an inveterate reader. A terrible student, she often hid Thurber inside her textbooks. Wanna know how to be a great musician? LISTEN TO A LOT OF RECORDS! All kinds, all styles, good and shitty. If you’re not lapping it up, chances are you’re never going to be any good.
Although Fran did say a young ‘un can be good at music. Whereas a writer’s got to live, has got to have a story to tell. But she did say if a writer focused on youth, he’d have a brief career. That’s what bugs me about so many of the classic rock artists. They’re singing like they’re twenty four. They get plastic surgery and go on about pulling girls and nascent relationships when in reality they’re pushing retirement age, have been divorced and are facing health issues. I love John Batdorf’s "Old Man Dreamin’" because it’s a viewpoint of the world from someone pushing sixty who has kids and bills and is speaking like an adult instead of a child.
And not every work can be a masterpiece. If you’re shooting to get it perfect, you’re not gonna release anything. In hindsight, some are winners and some are losers. The major label strategy of working on an album until it has three or four hits is anti-art. Art is about experimentation. Success is so often about luck. If you’re not taking chances, chances are what you’re doing is not that interesting, or won’t last for long.
I wish Elton John would make a project record every year. Scratch that, I wish Elton John would release four to six songs every six months. If he worked with Ryan Adams and then an oldster and then a complete newbie, who knows what would come up. Instead of ramping up the endless hype machine, ultimately for a second-rate album like "The Union", let the audience know you’re still producing, so when you do come up with something great, people will be paying attention and can spread the word.
Fran does drive, she owns a Checker, but she does not own a cell phone or a computer. Complain she’s a Luddite, but she’s got an interesting take. She is wherever she is. You think you’re walking down the street, but really you’re punching the keys on your BlackBerry. You’re on your BlackBerry, in cyberspace, you’re not on the street.
And unencumbered by distracting technology, Fran can observe. That’s a key element of being an artist. Getting out in the world and having experiences and weighing the meaning thereof. And talking about it.
Fran loves to talk. She’ll listen, she loves the exchange of ideas. Art can be created in a flash, but you think about it when you’re not making it. And the more you think about it, the more you feel, the more you talk about it, the clearer your vision becomes, so when you sit down to create, the result is better defined and richer.
And Fran is confident. Everyone’s constantly apologizing these days. They don’t want to offend anybody. They sacrifice their beliefs in order to be a member of the group. But an artist is separate from the group. Chances are if the celebrity is busy hanging out at clubs, being part of the moveable celebrity feast, he’s a shitty artist. Artists are square pegs who don’t fit in the round holes. They get depressed. But they survive by putting forth their insights, which so many of the silent multitude can relate to.
Fran says AIDS killed not only the best artists, but the audience!
Let’s start with the artists… Those who died were the coolest. How do we know? THEY WERE GETTING LAID! Only those who were not having sex survive. Fran says if the dead came back to life, they’d be stunned who’s a star today, all the second-rate wannabes.
And it used to be that the audience was critical, demanded excellence. Now money trumps everything. Sold a lot of tickets? Then you must be good! You can’t criticize anybody who’s rich. Actually, Fran goes on about that. People love the rich. What they hate are the smart.
Fran’s smart and confident. People want her to be vulnerable and unsure. You think you’re so smart? YUP! Confidence is everything. And it sucks always being ahead of the masses. By time they catch up, you’re somewhere else.
You’ve got to love someone who says they ruined New York City, by turning it into a tourist trap. Sure, financially the city was saved, but at what cost? We’ve got million sellers, but at what artistic cost?
I’m not a big Scorsese fan. He gets so wrapped up in look and feel that story becomes secondary. And story is everything in film. But in documentaries, Scorcese is a king. He knocked it out of the park with the Dylan bio and does so again here. He intersects classic footage to both set the mood and make a point. Fran’s the star, all he’s got to do is set the vibe. One in which an individual can be the center of his or her own universe.
The mantra of today is to never judge. Fran Lebowitz LOVES to judge! What fun is life if you can’t separate the wheat from the chaff, say something sucks and laud that which you love. That’s being fully alive. But if you’ve got opinions, you’re gonna be attacked, it goes with the territory.
So dial this up. Doesn’t even matter if you know who Fran Lebowitz is. You’ll be fascinated just by what she says, her opinions, her insights. No dancing necessary. No plastic surgery. Just what comes out of her brain. It’s enough. Because that’s where art starts, in the brain. And art is life. And if you’re not willing to argue about art, you’re not willing to live.
