The Joy of O'Neill and PBS

I guess I'm not quite back in the habit of being an avid poster yet, since I didn't finish my posts Monday or even do one Tuesday. So here goes my first long post in a long time.

Did anyone else catch on Monday night the PBS special about Eugene O'Neill? Surely I can't be the only manga fan out there who is also an avid PBS junkie? We get three different PBS channels in my area for some reason, so I get three chances to see something great each week. And Elicia and I schedule our Mondays so as to not miss The eyes of Nye. Yikes, am I actually admitting that? Sometimes my inner nerd really does manifest itself in odd ways. (But serously, Eyes of Nye is a great show: it explains difficult scientific subjects in an easy to understand way, and I love that they use the Saul Bass-inspired Hitchcock font—which I happen to have and love but haven't used yet—for their logo.)

Anyway, I really enjoyed the O'Neill documentary, and not just because I did a research paper on him for my High School English class and in so doing fell in love with the playwright's work. I also loved the show because it painted a portrait of a gifted, haunted man who worked his whole life to escape his demons, but finally found release at the end by writing about them. (Seriously, everyone should read the play "Long Day's Journey Into Night," which O'Neill based on his own flawed family; it's an absolutely incredible play.)

I also loved learning how even at age 50, he hadn't lost his gift for words and characters and that some of his best work was done at the end of his life (Take that, Mr. George Lucas.) Which was refreshing for me, because it seems to be a modern trend that directors or writers do their best, most passionate work in their youth, and then fade out or sell out or get all washed up. I was worried about this trend affecting Elicia and I—sometimes I worry that we will never get our mangas underway, and the idea of failure from delay haunts me. But Elicia and I have talked about this, that perhaps it is not when you do the work but the passion you have for it: the energy, the hunger for success instilled in you as an artist no matter your age or current circumstances. Take George Lucas, for example. Perhaps a lack of hunger on his part—since riches and security often result in complacency—and not a lack of creativity brought about the inferiority of the second half of the Star Wars' Movies? This is pure speculation on my part, of course, because I'm sure Lucas was excited to finish the series, and there are plenty of old-school writers or creators like Lewis or Tolkien of Miyazaki that could have become complacent in their older years from their successes but did not. But if it is that lack of hunger and not increased age that is the problem, then Elicia and I have nothing to worry about—we are always hungry for these projects. And it's not like we aren't working on them—every day we are fleshing out just a little bit more our characters or plotlines or visuals. We just haven't really scripted or drawn them yet. But it will happen soon, I know it.

Anyway, back to O'Neill. There was a great point brought up at the end of the documentary about the redemptive quality that is inherent in art. That if you can take your demons and emotional scars from your past, and without self pity or falsity exorcise those demons in your work as O'Neill did, then not only can you make something good come out of the tragedies in yor life but you can also taste the joy of creating art that lasts the ages. Which is what O'Neill successfully did, and which is something great to think about. I think a lot of times I downplay my own struggles in life because after all, I'm a middle-class white girl so my problems can't be all that bad, right? But I think that kind of attitude is not brave, as I had originally thought, but is actually a very self-defeatist way of thinking. After all, all human beings experience great tragedies in their lives, and I have been no exception, and simply dismissing my own wounds because I feel they don't measure up to the pain of someone else's helps neither myself nor the world at large. I think it is a great struggle to face your demons without self-laceration or pity, just acknowledge them for what they are, bury them through meditation or art, then move on. That might sound stupid or simplistic, but I know lots of people unable to resolve their pasts, to their great detriment, and I am still in the proces of healing from the past myself. I just hope that, if I ever decide to exorcise my experiences in art, that the art I make can be half as beautiful as O'Neill's.

One last thing abot O'Neill. As great as his plays were, he went to his deathbed unsatisfied, believing that none of his plays were the grand masterworks he had hoped to create. I think that desire for perfection and improvement, and setting high standards for yourself, is crucial to get grand results. But it kills me that O'Neill didn't see during his life just what he had accomplished. He is one of the few playwrights that can bring his audience to the depths of human despair and anguish, yet do it so movingly and poetically. Like they said, he is America's Shakespeare, even if he didn't recognize it himself.

Anyway, American Experience is just one of many reasons why I love PBS so much; they have so many programs that provide us not only with valuable research material for our stories, but also they provide me with with chances to evaluate my own life and potential. How many other prime time shows can claim that?

As a side note, the documantary also allowed me to exorcise a past demon of my own, albeit a frivolous one. I intensely disliked Robert Sean Leonard's portrayal of Claudio in Much Ado About Nothing—I thought he was a weak link in an otherwise strong cast, and this intense disapointment never sat well with me. I am happy to report that after hearing his moving reading of Edmund from "A Long Day's Journey Into Night," he has finally redeemed himself in my eyes. It was a truly beautiful monologue, and I couldn't believe the same man was reading it. Either he is a better stage than movie actor or his acting has improved immensely over the years; either way bravo to you RSL. =)

The Prodigal Blogger returns. . .

I can't believe how long it's been since I've last written! Glad to see my absence caused no one to suffer fits of panic and despair. =) I got really busy at work before my glorious spring vacation (one whole week of palm trees, eighty degree weather, and sight-seeing, hooray!), and then was super busy when I got back to work, so there you go. Also, was preparing a super-long post, but may break that up as necessary.

I almost feel like my trip was not actually a vacation per se but rather a week-long research project—I took a lot of photos for my personal stock photo collection, got tons of ideas for promotional and display design, and even caught a gallery exhibition at a major museum. So how was this a break from the ordinary? =) Ah well, since I live for research I shouldn't complain, because I truly loved every minute of it. Everyone should go to the Caribbean someday, IMHO.

I wanted to summarize lots of thoughts—Olympics wrap-ups, animation oscars, etc—but I will do that later today as have stuff to do. But it's good to be back and writing again!