Forty Two Candles

July 8th was my 42nd birthday. The 6th was my dad's 70th. I flew to Texas for six days to be with him and my family; there was a big reunion and almost everyone was there. It was an important time, for me, and I spent almost the entire trip with my family, especially with mom and dad. That is what my trips home have become about; spending time with mom and dad. There was, though, a private matter that needed to be handled while I was there. It was the matter of my birthday present to myself.

I am all about milestones and landmarks. I think that is why I have tattoos. The tattoos that I have are all of my own design (for the most part) and mark a moment, an occasion in my life or someone who has changed that life. Marci recently referred to me as 'one big doodle page' and Pat remarked, during the last year, that he did NOT mean to marry Lydia The Tattoo'd Lady. So when I decided that the next tattoo I would get would (probably) be my last one, I thought it would show great symetry if I were to get it at the place that I got my first one. The day after my birthday I drove from Fort Worth to Dallas to Tigger's on Main Street and I gave them the design--my design, though one half of it was actually rendered by my Tom and the other half was rendered by myself. I left, thirty minutes later, happy with my choice and thrilled with my fifth (and probably final) branding.

The story below was written a few weeks ago and explains one part of this new birthmark--one that marks the end of a difficult year and the beginning of a new chapter in which I am, already, happier than I have ever been. The portion of my tattoo that is not covered in the following story is a symbol I created by myself, for myself; and though the elements which make it up will remain private, I will state that what it symbolizes, to me is this: art, strength, confidence and peace. The portion of my tattoo discussed below symbolizes my commitment to truth (which we are), honesty (which we share) and survival (which I master).

I Can't Take My Mind Off Of You

“You’re not going to get one of your things about her, are you?” So asks Glenn Close, in character, in the movie MAXIE, when her husband develops a little fascination, maybe even an obsession with a silent film actress named Maxine Malone (also played by Glenn Close). When this movie was released (and, in fact, every time we have seen it, since) Pat looks at me and laughs or rolls his eyes or winks or something else that is meant to tease me, lovingly, about the fact that I get “one of my things” all the time. I have been known to watch the same movie every day while working around the house (UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN took me through the entire fall and winter seasons, one year); or to listen to the same cd over and over (there was a period of time when Pat would phone me from work and when I answered say “What are you listening to? SideShow?”). I will get onto one actor and not stop until we have bought or rented their entire canon and worked our way through it (Since LIZA WITH A Z aired on tv, Miss Minnelli and I have been experiencing a renaissance and the other night we saw BAREFOOT IN THE PARK on Broadway, so I feel a Jill Clayburgh fest coming on). I admit it is an obsessive compulsive trait but it is fun and informative and, as long as Pat doesn’t mind it, it’s fun. I will say, though, that Rachel has an aversion to Minnie Driver because of a period of time when I was wrapped up in the Sally Field directed film BEAUTIFUL.

I did not see the play CLOSER when it played Broadway. I have loved Natasha Richardson’s work for a long time—also Rupert Grave’s. I never knew why I was not compelled to see CLOSER—I always thought that it was because one of the central characters was a photographer (a well publicized fact at the time) and I was suffering from feelings of inadequacy at the time because my career was floundering (which it has done more than flourish—a fact I have learned to accept). I have realized the cosmic reason for my not seeing the play, now that I have seen the film for the two thousandth time and read the play script. I was not meant to know the Alice Ayers of the play version before knowing the character as created by Natalie Portman in the film. There are differences between the two characters on film and on stage. My Alice Ayers is the film version. My Alice Ayers is Natalie Portman playing Plain Jane Jones.

I saw the film CLOSER just before the academy awards, the year that it was one of the big nominees. Pat and I sat near the back of the theater, transfixed. I was hypnotized by the subject matter, the frankness with which the author (and the actors and the characters, by extension) dealt with relationships, love and sexuality. As an adult and because of the relationships in my own life, I have been obsessed with relationships, fidelity and sexuality. I expect there are many people who are, just like me, fascinated, even obsessed by these; I am also sure that there are many who do not give the subjects a second thought, but simply live their lives, have their relationships and have sex. I feel, and have felt for some time, that many of the problems people have in their lives stem from an inability to manage their relationships and their sexuality. A world of repression, oppression and obsession, we, as humans, are not really permitted to bring our sexuality out into our day to day lives. We are taught, at an early age, that the human body should be hidden (not celebrated) and that sex is dirty (not sacred—oh, that’s a word for lovemaking, not sex—and certainly not fun). There are exceptions to this generalization, parents who teach their children to have a healthy attitude about sex; but once the kids are grown up, they are sent out into a world where sex is taboo. CLOSER grabbed the topic and shook it out like a dusty rug needing cleaning. More to the point of my fascination for the piece is the psychology of relationships. I’ve had a life filled with relationships ranging from the mundane to the weird and each one of these relationships has left a thread in my personality, not to mention so much emotional baggage that I, oftentimes, feel like a bellman at the Waldorf Astoria of life. It was a foregone conclusion that I would become obsessed with CLOSER. I hate being a foregone conclusion.

When the picture was over, I sat in my seat at the cinema for a long time, unable to, quite, get myself under control. An emotional being, I am moved, devastated even, by artwork that makes me feel and think. This reaction that I had after CLOSER has happened to me a handful of times in my life. After the Broadway performance of M BUTTERFLY, after the film THE HOURS—most recently after the Broadway performance of AWAKE AND SING! (I sat in the Belasco theatre, my tear stained face cradled in my hands, my knees supporting my elbows, as I held myself up). I absolutely adore these moments. They prove to me and to anyone who witnesses me, that I am alive and able to feel—something that many on this planet cannot claim. I can and do. I did at CLOSER.

An interesting bit of incidental insight here: before this film I was not a fan of Natalie Portman. I always believed she was beautiful but had been, mildly, unaffected by her work as an actor. I was never offended by it, the way I have been by, say Winona Ryder, but I had not, yet, heard her music. Because of CLOSER, I will be, forever, a Portman supporter. It’s pretty much the way I am about Gale Harold. I am a die hard QUEER AS FOLK fan and I love (in a purely platonic and non-stalker fashion) the actor Gale Harold for his inimitably perfect work in creating the character Brian Kinney. I will always admire him and hail him as a great actor. However, in a video store last year Pat said to me “Look, a Gale Harold movie” and I replied “I don’t care about Gale Harold. I care about Brian Kinney.” That was a comment said to illicit a comedic response but it IS based on a truth. I DO care about Gale Harold and his work and I DO see his films. It was just my way of saying that his work in QUEER AS FOLK superceded his presence as an artist by making his character more important to me. I find that to be a compliment to the actor who created the role that is one of my all-time favourite fictional characters and one of my idols. I think an actor will understand what I mean.

Plain Jane Jones is just such a character, to me.I refer to Plain Jane Jones in this way because that is who she is. In the script’s character breakdown she is billed as Alice. At the end of the first scene she tells the character, Dan, that her name is Alice Ayers. In the most talked about and memorable scene from the movie (and the play—but I say movie because whenever I mention CLOSER to someone, their response is the talk about the strip club scene), she tells the character Larry that her name is plain Jane Jones. No matter what this woman, in fiction or in life, were she real, calls herself, to me she is Plain Jane Jones.

During a discussion with my fellow intellectual and theater aficionado, Brady Schwind, we delved deep into CLOSER (as deep as one can get in an aol instant message window). He knew the play, I knew the movie. There are differences in the two and we were comparing notes on the similarities, the differences, the characters, the themes and on Plain Jane Jones. This discussion led me to pick up the script and do a little homework. Last night, during a bout of insomnia, I found myself with highlighters, marking up my script to illustrate something for Brady and for myself.

I have watched the movie over and over on cable and on dvd. I have made a study of Plain Jane Jones and I have announced that I love her because she is the only character in this piece who is honest. She is the only character in this piece who should be admired because at no time does she do anything to hurt another human being. She does nothing but live, look for love and survive. She is true to herself, to her needs and desires and to the man she loves. She tells no lies. Well, no lies of serious consequence. It’s important to make that distinction. We all tell lies, every day. My favourite thing is absolute honesty. I demand...well…hope for honesty from the people in my life. I understand humanity, though, and know that that is impossible. Acceptable lies?

“How are you?”“Fine, thanks” Inner monologue: Terrible, my husband and I had a horrible fight and I have the worst case of diarrhea ever.

“Do these jeans make my ass look fat?”“No, but the colour doesn’t match that top and the cuffs are a little high for those shoes. I think your black slacks will work better” Inner monologue: Like the back end of an Apple Tours bus.

We all tell lies to ourselves and to the people around us. Even lies by omission count as lies. It is human nature, though, and it helps us to keep the sturm and drang of drama and personal examination (or examination from others for that matter!) from interrupting our day. My lie? I’ll tell the truth—I always try to tell the truth. That which I try to keep the people who know me from finding out: I am much more judgmental than I would like people to know. I don’t want to be judgmental, I think it is an ugly character trait. I am, though; and I make the active choice to fight it. I judge people for their poor fashion sense, stupid haircuts, bad choices in life. I catch myself doing it and I ask the universe and OB1 to forgive me and to help me love that person instead of judge them. Sometimes absolution comes, others, it evades me. There. That is my lie. Or, that is one of them. But it is MY lie. It is MY personal struggle. I battle it and it is between me, myself and God. I do not tell lies that will hurt people and, to my way of thinking, that makes me a good man. I’m not talking about the fat ass lie—I’m talking about the lies that really hurt people.

The characters in CLOSER are flawed, deeply. They are human. Ok. I don’t hold their flaws against them. Anna is weak. Dan is suspicious. Larry is egomaniacal. What is Plain Jane Jones’ flaw? She is..what?..I am having trouble deciding. She is young and vulnerable and nomadic. Are these flaws? Those other three people lie, cheat, deceive and hurt. What does Alice do? She lives, she loves, she survives. She simply exists and does what she must do to be happy. I admire that. I admire it, greatly. AND she does it all with wit and style!!

When I read the play script of CLOSER, I discovered some dialogue and a scene cut from the story for the film. I discovered that Alice Ayer’s, Plain Jane Jones’ ending in the play is different. I have no objection to these differences; but this is not my Plain Jane Jones. My Plain Jane Jones is the woman at the end of the film, walking with a self assured stride through Times Square’s summer sunlight while the men of New York stop in their pace to turn and look at her. She is strong. She has survived.

I think the reason I love Plain Jane Jones so much is because I see parts of her that are parts of me, as well as parts of her that I wish were parts of me. That is why I had to know more. So I did some research, online. I would like to share with you some of what I have found.

1—“Alice is a stripper, very young, very pretty and extremely self-destructive.” --Suzanne Weiss, writing about the Berkley Repertory Theater production of CLOSER, starring Maggie Gyllenhaal as Alice.

SM: Now, I find this interesting because I do not see her as self destructive. I know that we all have self destructive qualities, but Miss Weiss calls her EXTREMELY self destructive. I want someone to show me where she is self destructive. I wanna know!

2--Midway through Closer, Larry shouts in despair, 'WHAT D'YOU HAVE TO DO TO GET A BIT OF INTIMACY AROUND HERE?' The restless hunt for intimacy and the constant failure to find it takes up most of the action of Closer. Intimacy, as it turns out, is never where you expect it. Larry makes his impossible demand in a strip club, a place of anonymous sexual gratification, and he shouts at a 'two-way mirror' where the unseen 'security' occupy the place of the audience, who ensure that no-one on stage is ever alone. And yet, at this moment in the play, Alice, who never fully gives herself to anyone, actually admits her true name, Jane Jones--Peter Buse for the internet site for British Council Arts

SM: Now, I wonder where Mr. Buse gets that Alice never gives fully of herself. We, as a race, wear armour and tell lies and self protect. Alice banters with wit and hides her true given identity but she is open and vulnerable enough to tell the truth when she is being hurt, the say what she wants and to tell people when they are fooling themselves. Do any of us give ourselves, fully, to anyone? I wanna know!

3--Patrick Marber's Closer is a sad, savvy, often funny play that casts a steely, unblinking gaze at the world of relationships and lets you come to your own conclusions.--John Simon

SM: I love this remark by Mr. Simon. Bravo!

4--"Love, here, is founded on deception and lies. Each character assembles fictions -- from photographs or writing, pornography or personal history -- but, in so doing, they also steal from each other. --- Lucy Atkins, Times Literary Supplement

SM: I love Ms. Atkins observation. I think life is founded on lies. We take on sayings we hear and think are neat, we embellish stories about our lives for humourous or dramatic effect, we make ourselves interesting and we self protect. We all steal our personalities from each other. A wonderful sentiment from Ms. Atkins.

5-- The website The Complete Review states the following facts and opinions:Alice is a young lost soul, a self-described waif who works as a stripper. Alice is wary and cynical, but also incredibly vulnerable, and Marber conveys it all in these first few pages. Her desperation shimmers through, even as she tests Dan. Disarmingly she reveals herself, careful not to play as easily with words as Dan might:
DAN. What do you want ?
ALICE. To be loved.
DAN. That simple ?
ALICE. It's a big want.
The story continues to jump ahead, Dan and Larry vying for Anna, with Alice a pawn and consolation prize. Alice knew where to find happiness, but Dan couldn't play along; he and the others remain unable to commit themselves to (or be satisfied with) what they have.Except for Alice, they are all weak, giving in -- to temptation, to easy pleasure, to the promise of success -- without ever finding much fulfilment. Alice remains needy, but at least she knows exactly what she wants; ultimately, that isn't good enough either.

SM: Now, I am not sure that Alice is a lost soul. Perhaps. But she is young and we all are a little lost when we are young—some of us carry that well into our adulthoods! I suppose she may be wary and cynical but, many of us are. However, I do not find her to be ANY of these things! I accept this writer’s perception of Alice but I would love some foundation on which this perception is based. I wanna know! I do love, though, that the writer claims Alice to be pawn and consolation prize…I agree; also that Alice knew where to find happiness…well, she didn’t know WHERE to find it but when she found a place where it MIGHT be, she chose to stay there. I agree that they are all weak, I agree that Alice might be needy but I find her far less needy and much stronger than others in the play—and aren’t we all a little needy? Really.

6--The Arden Theatre Company website, when promoting their production uses this quote at the top of the page:"What's so great about the truth? The truth hurts people. Try lying for a change. It's the currency of the world."The English Theater website, for their production, oddly uses the exact same quote, before doing a scene by scene synopsis of the play that is insultingly sophomoric.

SM: Love the quote they have chosen. I agree with it. The truth hurts but (as we have heard) it can also set you free. Lying IS the currency of the world. And there is a scene where Alice/Jane Jones says “lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking off her clothes. But it’s better if you do.” I actually agree. I was a gay man in the 70’s and 80’s. I wrote the book on lying. It IS fun to get away with it. But it is also a burden and a disrespect to your character.

7--The Questors Theater website says the following:In the years after it opened, Closer became a modern classic, picking up a batch of awards whilst continuing to shock audiences with its candid look at lust and infidelity. Set in the 90s, its attitudes are very much of that time, where sex was a means to an end. Letting one's guard down and giving in to intimacy was the scariest thing of all. Through the four characters, we see the old absolutes of love and marriage being ditched for the allure of sex. The play has not lost any of its power by being brought into the 21st century, however. It also highlights one of the great paradoxes of modern life, the more methods of communication we have (mobile phones, fax, internet etc), the more we have to create a mask for ourselves to hide behind. In the tender, harsh and brutal moments when the characters come face to face with the person they would like to get closer to, they are unable to communicate.

SM: I don’t have an editorial for this. I just love the writing and wanted to feature it here.

At this point of my quest for more knowledge and understanding of Plain Jane Jones, my mind went into sensory overload. I wish that I were able to write to Patrick Marber and ask him to tell me more about her; the only thing is, as John Simon says, you are allowed to come up with your own conclusions. That is what art is all about. People are free to look at an artist’s work and allow what they see in it to cast a light into the deepest recesses of their minds, illuminating what their vision will allow or, in fact, seeks. There is nothing more complicated than perception.

My perception is that Plain Jane Jones is the only honourable person in this piece. I have gone through the original script with highlighters. I marked, in pink, everything that is either true, flirty, conversational, etc.—that is to say, anything that is not designed to hurt someone, to take something from them. I, then, highlighted in blue every lie she tells. The last thing I did was highlight in blue AND pink moments when, in conversation, she says something that is, in fact, a lie but that, like the fat ass lie, doesn’t hurt anyone or might protect her from revealing personal facts about herself that will not change the course of the conversation or the relationship that might follow—a lie without consequence. The majority of her text is in pink. A handful of her lines are pink and blue. There is, in fact, one sentence that is highlighted in blue:

“Alice. My name is Alice Ayers.”

And why should it matter that she starts her relationships with the people in this piece by giving an assumed name? It is made clear that Alice is a waif, a nomad, a chameleon who adapts to her situation and does what needs to be done to make her and her loved one happy? To that end, what (as the poet says) is in a name? She is everyman and nowhere man, all at once. She exists and survives and what she calls herself or allows others to call her is of no import. She is Jane Jones, she is Alice Ayers, she is Jane Doe, John Doe, John Q. Public. She is Stephen Mosher.

We are more than our names. She lived by that belief, did Plain Jane Jones. She is who she is. In a way, she is a Zen master. She is whole on her own. She wants, she needs someone to love. She chooses someone to love. When that choice becomes the wrong choice, she moves on like the nomad that she is, able to because she is one with herself, even as she tries to bury herself but cannot because her physical and spiritual beauty will continue to shine through, whether she knows or accepts it, or not. Even in the play, in a scene that was cut from the movie, she has an encounter with Anna that seems mean (and, indeed, some unkind but TRUE things are said) but it is a scene that is filled with honesty and strength and she is seen to be a person who has taken out time to adapt and THEN rise to occasion and fight for her man. I see Plain Jane Jones as a woman of honour, character and honesty. These are all qualities I admire in people and qualities I strive for in my own person. I am in love with this woman, with this character created by Patrick Marber, whether my perceptions of her are true to his own—all that matters to me is how she has affected ME. And she has affected me.

That is why, when next I sit in the tattoo artist’s chair, it will be to get a tattoo that reads:

PLAIN JANE JONES