Frank Beacham's Journal

Right-Wing Texas Education Massacre is Just the Beginning of a National History Whitewash

 

So many are shocked this weekend by news that a group of right-wingers have taken the Texas education system hostage by demanding their dogmatic drivel replace history in textbooks.

Wake up, folks! Such a rewrite of actual history has been going since our nation was founded. In fact, U.S. history has always been written by the rich and powerful who want to shape events to their liking.  Sad to say you never got the truth in school. It was mostly propaganda!

When I was growing up in South Carolina, a place that can match Texas any day with right-wing nutcases, the state-approved history textbook actually said that blacks were prohibited from working in textile mills because the machinery lulled them to sleep. No kidding!

Of course, the reason blacks weren’t hired was racism, but the South Carolina textbook couldn’t admit the mill owners were racists, could they? The ultraconservatives in Texas wielded their power over hundreds of subjects this week, introducing and rejecting amendments on everything from the civil rights movement to global politics. It was whitewashing as usual.

Howard Zinn, the late historian, made an alternative history available to everyone and it’s now available to teachers who dare to use it.  It’s called A People’s History of the United States. There are different versions and one new edition is aimed at teenagers.  

There’s also a wonderful new movie, The People Speak, in which well known actors and musicians tell the stories of slaves, authors, politicians, poets, protestors and others who have shaped American life. Most of these people who actually changed the world fail to gain even a mention in school textbooks.

If you really want to learn or have your kids learn the truth, first turn off the television set.  Then buy Howard Zinn’s great book. Your eyes will be opened.

 

"My Dinner With Andre"—Now 30 Years Old—Was a Great Cinematic Experiment that Wasn’t Suppose to Work

Thirty years ago, playwright-actor Wally Shawn sat down for dinner with Andre Gregory, the New York theatre director, and cinematic history was made. It was a “talkie” shot on low-budget 16mm film that no one—except the filmmakers—believed in.

That included most of the family and friends of Shawn and Gregory. But after a tense six weeks of poor box office and scathing reviews by mainstream media outlets, the then new TV critics—Siskel and Ebert—gave My Dinner with Andre a thumbs-up. At that moment, the film’s box office took off.

The two old friends and theatrical colleagues watched their work at the Walter Reade Theatre at Lincoln Center this week for the first time in a decade. It was part of a tribute to the life of the late Louis Malle, who directed the film. After the screening, both men marveled at how much the world had changed in the past 30 years.

 

The project was proposed by Shawn, who wanted to tell the story in a TV film of Andre’s fantastical journey of enlightenment to Poland at the invitation of Jerzy Grotowski. The pair met for weeks—talking into a tape recorder—as Gregory told the tale and Shawn reacted. They then took the transcripts and edited a narrative, which they later performed in segments before live audiences and on videotape.

“We would never had embarked on this movie if we had known what we learned five to ten years later,” Shawn recalled. “If someone brought me something like this today and asked my advice, I would say it is impossible. If I had known anything, I would have thought it was impossible then. But neither of us knew much about movies. So we had a kind of confidence that was absurd!”

 

French director Louis Malle signed on and the film was made in an old abandoned hotel in Richmond, Virginia. It was in the dead of winter and to turn on the heat would have required heating the entire hotel. That was too expensive. So the two men filmed the entire movie in the hotel’s restaurant wrapped in electric blankets.

They knew their parts so well, the film was shot angle by angle, rather than in sequence. “We knew the script so well we were like trained monkeys,” Shawn recalled.

 

Gregory said playing himself was difficult. “It was confusing almost to the point of my going nuts,” he recalled. “In the rehearsal, I came up with the idea of using four voices. There was Andre with a Peter Brooks voice, there was Andre ‘the spiritual used car salesmen,’ there was Andre the ‘off-the-wall’ rich kid and there was the truthful Andre.”

Malle gave Gregory only only one significant direction in the film—speak faster. “It was the same direction given by director John Huston to his father, Walter Huston, in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, which won Walter an Oscar. You see Walter Huston, like myself, was a theatre actor. This was a crucial direction. When I spoke faster, I created this character who was a maniacal, egotistical, narcissistic son of a bitch. I didn’t have time to act. Louis realized that the camera is so close that you see what is in the eyes. You don’t have to do so much.”

 

What did the two performers think had changed in the culture since making the movie? “In the film, we don’t talk directly about American politics,” noted Shawn. “We almost would have had to when Ronald Reagan became president.  We both saw television come in. When we were boys there was no television. I missed television until I was about eight years old. The whole idea of people living in a trance and a fantasy world is far less discussed by younger people today than by us.”

Gregory, who at 75 is older than Shawn, grew up on radio drama. “You could say in certain ways that My Dinner with Andre is a radio drama,” he said. “In one place, the Andre character talks about ‘preserving the culture.’ Of course, that’s a passive culture that tells you what to think, what to feel and what to look at. If you go to see a movie like Titanic, it doesn’t leave anything open to your imagination. As audience members, you don’t need to do any work. 

“This film, like certain radio dramas, actually encourages you to think and to feel,” he continued. “It’s a bit like Lawrence of Arabia because the audience has to feel the forest. If you go see Atlantic City, which is the film Malle made just before this, it’s tragic to see the culture crumbling. Old buildings collapsing—an old world film. I was staggered tonight by the people mentioned in the film. We remembered in the 1970s when there would be lines around the block to get into a new Fellini movie or Antonioni movie. An active culture was more alive back then.”

 

Gregory recalled that when his father was 83 they had a discussion about fascism. “My father said if he was younger he would leave America. I asked why? He said because both political parties have become so corrupt that it can only lead to fascism. So, from my point of view, fascism was an ongoing concern. Wally’s play, The Designated Mourner, predicted Bush 10 years before he stole the presidency.”

Shawn recalled being surprised to see in the film that he wasn’t as complacent back then as he had remembered. “I suppose I have become a committed leftist who is much, much more upset about the way things are than I was at that time. I am more a believer in political activism and more aware of the role that bourgeoisie Americans play in torturing and oppressing the poor people who want the world to change. In the film, there’s a dim sense of somebody awakening to that.”

 

Gregory added: “The Andre character said something about ‘global totalitarian Capitalism.’ I used to not mind Capitalism so much. I grew up in the upper middle class and was privileged to have a comfortable life. I think Capitalism—starting with Reagan, who I think was a radical revolutionary—has become absolutely obscene. I have much darker feelings about this country. On the other hand, I’m a much happier person. I adore my wife, Cindy, a very fine filmmaker. I wouldn’t walk further than the local cigar store I’m having such a good time at home. So I sort have become the Wally character.”

Orson Welles and his Brief, Passionate Love Affair with the Betacam

 

Sometimes the journeys we take through this life begin and end in the most unexpected ways. That happened to me in January, 1985, when the phone rang and the caller announced he was Orson Welles and he wanted to have lunch with me. Thus began one of the most extraordinary adventures of my life.

Read the full story

Revisiting Orson Welles is a Reminder of Vast Change in the Arts

I moved to New York City nearly 19 nears ago in large part due to Orson Welles. Through a strange set of circumstances, I was lucky enough to work with the great man during the final year of his life in Los Angeles. After his death in 1985, I came to New York to interview the living members of the Mercury Theatre Company for a documentary on Welles. I fell in love with New York City and eventually moved here.

The New York City I was attracted to was of the 1930s. To hear the exciting stories I was told by the Mercury actors, I thought those wonderful times still existed. Like so many before me, I was lured to the city by a false dream. One soon learns they have to make their own dreams come true in this town.

On Sunday afternoon, I was reminded of this again by Timothy “Speed” Levitch, the legendary New York City tour guide, who gave an Orson Welles tour of the Broadway area as a promotion for Me and Orson Welles, the new film opening this week. Though I had been an executive producer of Cradle Will Rock, a 1999 film about Orson, I had never walked the streets to see where Welles had actually worked.

Timothy “Speed” Levitch, performer and legendary tour guide. Photos by Frank Beacham

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Sadly, there was little to see. Just as theatre itself exists only in the memories of those who witness it, Levitch reminded us that very little of Welles’ New York of 1937 is now left. “Just like us, the city goes through constant transformation,” Levitch said. “That’s why there's almost nothing of old Times Square left. The city has been destroyed and rebuilt 5,000 times already. As we walk along the concrete of the city, think of it as the skin of a living being.” It was an interesting way to think of constant change.

 

As we walked past the Marriott Marquis, Levitch reminded us of the 1985 massacre when three Broadway theatres were torn down to build the huge hotel. Hilariously, however, Levitch noted that three of the hotel’s “homogenized, plastic conference rooms” are each named for among the most radical, socialistic, innovative minds in American theatre: Clifford Odets, Eugene O’Neill and Thornton Wilder. Only in New York!

 

As we approached the site of the original Mercury Theatre at 110 West 41st Street, where Welles and the Mercury produced the modern dress Julius Ceasar—the subject of the new movie—I was saddened. It's now a dreary, nondescript office building. This Wednesday, after all these years, a plaque is finally going up to mark the location as a historic site.

Orson Welles brought innovation and daring to American theatre. The Mercury’s mission was to break the fourth wall and “scratch the nervous system of its audience.” It was an exciting, provocative period of Broadway that is now long gone. To relive the experience today, the closest we can come is to see movies like Me and Orson Welles.

At least, in our dumbed down society, films like this are still being made. Bravo to those who still celebrate great artistic vision. There’s so damn little of it anymore. 

Christian McKay as Orson Welles in Me and Orson Welles

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It says a lot about New York City in 2009 that it took the promotion of a movie to finally install a plaque marking the original site of Orson Welles’ Mercury Theatre. But finally, Thanksgiving week, it happened. It was part of the hoopla for the opening of Me and Orson Welles. In the photo is Christian McKay and Zac Efron, actors from the film. 

The scene of such a burst of creativity should have been on every tourist map for 50 years. But it was lost. Finally, for those who want to know, the place—now a dreary office building—is marked at 110 West 41st Street. 

On the movie, "Me and Orson Welles"

This film is an excellent portrayal of a truly magic moment in the history of Broadway theatre. In 1937, there were about 200 plays open at one time in New York City and the average cost was $12,000. Everyone could afford theatre then, since prices were very low. It was a wonderful era in New York City, despite economic hard times. Genius bloomed. Creativity flowed. And life was affordable. This story will transport you back to that time. And, the actor who plays Orson Welles—Christian McKay—is a revelation. I knew the man and Christian has nailed him cold.

Answering the Next Generation's Question

I recently wrote a column for a television industry trade magazine—TV Technology—about opportunities for young people in journalism. The article got a big response. I didn't realize how many people who work in the media industries are having a major debate with their college-age offspring about whether or not to study for a career in media.

Even with a continuing loss of jobs in all media—including motion pictures, television and print, Columbia University reported it’s journalism school enrollment increased 39 percent this year. Why is this?  Do the kids know something we don’t?

In the column, I tried to explain the reasons for the current turmoil. Part of it is a cruel side effect of the shift from analog to digital technology. Digital is a disruptive technology. It's a game changer. 

Physical media—including printed paper, film stock, vinyl records, CDs and DVDs—is disappearing. All this "stuff" is being replaced by digital files. The manufacturing cost has been erased. Anyone, even a kid at the kitchen table, can create digital files. This shift from analog to digital technology has been going on for more than a decade, but this year the effects really hit home. 

 

Much of the calamity was fueled by the poor economy. Media companies tried to grow too fast. Many lost sight of their core journalistic mission. They consolidated and ate their young. Many mortgaged themselves over the top. Now, with ad revenue down, they are paying the price. 

When they pay the price, their workers get laid off. Everyone, of course, knows that has been happening for a long time. There are fewer jobs out there now and employers are paying less—much less. Barely a living wage. 

In fact, I often hear of people taking jobs that pay less than what I was paid for entry-level media jobs in the 1970s. There are always the exceptions, but the fact is there are very few good media jobs anymore. 

That’s the bad news. The good news is virtually all the media playing fields have been leveled. The CEO of a major media corporation has no more of a track record today in new media than a kid in college. 

Most of the leaders of old media companies don't know or understand new media and are quietly trying to maintain a delicate balancing act. Most, in the end, will fail and they deserve to do so. 

 

The journalism student of today must learn multiple crafts. Good writing and editing skills are essential stuff. He or she also must learn digital photography, video and audio production, and everything about the Internet including how to build websites and social media. And the new journalist needs to have some business skills.

Then, turn to the Internet, the world's largest free media platform, to use those skills to create something unique. One can easily reach millions with the right combination of words, pictures and sounds. 

What kind of media should the newcomer produce? Ah, that's the hard part. Whatever makes you tick is my answer. Just look at all the junk around you on television, in movies and on the Internet. You think most of it is trash? Good, because it is! Recognize that fact. Then do something unique and original that interests you. 

Forget money and security. If that motivates you, you’re in the wrong field. Think boldly and creatively and ignore the old media that's gradually dying around you. Eye the future and create something new.

In the 1970s, when small-format video was just beginning, the possibilities available today are something we dreamed of. It took another 40 years for the opportunities to actually arrive. 

For those with the right stuff, today is a great time to be alive. You are in on the ground floor of something extraordinarily new. Build the next generation of media while you have the chance. Seize the opportunity now. 

A Perfect Storm Hits Media Businesses

The transition to digital technology finally hit those of us in media with the violence of a sledge hammer. The year 2009 will most certainly go down as a historic turning point. It was the year when the rooster finally crowed and the reality of digital technology met a nasty economic downturn. As I write this, we continue to be tossed about in a perfect storm.  

Suddenly—as far as media people are concerned—most of the world’s money dried up, previously solid businesses collapsed and many talented people were left scrambling to reinvent themselves in a very new world.

This, of course, has been building for a long time, but most of us were still not ready. Few could have predicted even a year ago how fast jobs would be lost and businesses decimated. What appeared to be stable, strong media outlets suddenly became vulnerable and are probably unsustainable. Many will not ride out the storm.

Finally, in all the wreckage around us, we can see where things are headed. What’s not so clear at all is how to make money at it.  There will be much experimentation, pain and loss ahead. Sadly, most will fail and a few will chart a new future.

This economic destruction covers a wide swath of media—especially print publications, the music business and all kinds of news operations. Internet technology has now enabled television viewers to watch any program at any time on any device at any location. Once viewers got a taste of this new phenomenon, the attraction was instant. The cat was out of the bag and now there is no turning back.  

The problem is most media businesses don’t allow for such flexibility. The business deals weren’t made that way. Pay television providers aggregate programming and sell channels as bundles. Thus, the most popular programs pay the freight for less popular fare. Pay operators have long protected their subscriber-based systems by insuring that viewers pay large monthly fees, mostly for programming they do not want or watch.

The national broadcast networks, on the other hand, are increasingly moving their ad-supported content to the Internet. They are quickly building an audience for their programming through services like Hulu.

For those who don’t want to watch the commercials attached to those network programs, much of the same programming without commercials is available on a delayed basis from services like Netflix for less than $10 each month. Add to that thousands of movies, also without commercials.

Yet, change in this increasingly cruel digital age comes with lightning speed. On June 20, the day after Apple’s iPhone 3GS went on sale, Major League Baseball introduced what it called “a game changer.“ It streamed its first live baseball game—the Cubs vs. the White Sox—directly to iPhone users equipped with its ”At Bat” application.

That’s significant because it’s the first time a content owner has bypassed the television broadcast infrastructure to bring programming directly to the end users. The new iPhone 3.0 software allows its developers to charge users for video content from within applications. 

The game video—with full DVR features that can pause and rewind video—will play whether an iPhone is connected to a WiFi network or is on AT&T’s 3G network. MLB.com said its servers will detect the strength of the phone’s connection and adapt the quality of the video accordingly.

What’s significant here is the end user gets and pays for exactly the content he or she wants. They buy it directly from the owner of that content and watch it when and where they want. No more middle men and no more bundled stream of channels at a stiff monthly fee.

Of course, mobile phones are simply wireless computers.  Desktop computers—many hooked directly to home television sets—emulate this experience at home.  A viewer watching the first half of a game on his iPhone could arrive home and watch the second half on his Internet-connected television set. 

Remember, any program at any time on any device at any location. That is now the reality for many programs. It has pay television operators, the networks, and other broadcasters running scared.

In response, HBO, the premium pay television programmer, just launched HBO Go. This limited experiment allows cable viewers to view HBO programming on the Internet, but only if they go through the cable operator’s web site. The idea is to prevent non cable subscribers from watching HBO’s content.

History, however, is against HBO Go working. The music industry taught us that years ago. No one yet has succeeded in cutting off content desired by the Internet audience. Pirates will see to that in no time.

The day has begun when specific shows are delivered from the producer directly to the viewer. MLB did it first. It has begun with smaller producers, but will soon will reach the level of established enterprises like HBO. 

Take the Sopranos, the HBO hit. The owner of that show could sell the series directly to viewers over the Internet, without the need of pay television carriers or any middleman. And, with all the fat and bundled channels cut out of the equation, the price will be much lower than on cable.

In effect, the Internet becomes a huge magazine stand of television programs which viewers can select, pay for and watch with very low micropayments. The same is happening with movies, sports programming and other genres.

About 150 million Internet users in the United States now watch about 14.5 billion videos a month, says comScore, the measurement firm. That’s an average of 97 videos per viewer.  Interestingly, the average length of the videos watched has extended in the past year as compression and online quality improves. The online video business is expected to be worth over a billion dollars by 2011, says eMarketer.

To see what will happen to television, we only have to look at the music industry in recent years. Only the very largest, most established artists still operate within the confines of record companies. Most newer talent market their work independently, directly to their listeners. They use MySpace, Facebook, YouTube, and Twitter to find audiences and sell digital downloads over the Internet. The same model will probably be true for all file-based media in the near future.

With this radical change comes a huge human toll.  Disrupted businesses mean lost jobs and personal turmoil.  Expert skill sets that it took years to acquire become almost meaningless overnight. Salaries fall dramatically and an increasing number of businesses seek non-paid “interns” to avoid paying employees altogether.

Worst of all, in the media arena, this business turbulence results in a dramatic loss of quality. The trivialization of news—both television and print—is a good example. Citizen journalists replace real reporters. News staff are cut to the bone. Stations pool crews to do stories. Bureaus in Washington, D.C. are closed down. And forget about long-term investigative reporting—it’s over.

Thankfully, this won’t go on forever. It’s mainly the work of incompetent, risk-adverse management that doesn’t know anything else to do. In a few years, the old business models will disappear and new ones will emerge. The next generation of media professionals will appear as the winners who figure out how to build audiences and generate a profit. Most certainly, a new media establishment will rise from the rubble.

The whole scene today resembles the shift at the beginning of the last century from the horse and buggy era to the automobile age. Mega shifts in technology bring a huge level of disruptive change. We are living through it right now.

Last Resort: The Film is Stolen from the Movies

This weekend I saw "Public Enemies," the John Dillinger biopic directed by Michael Mann and starring Johnny Depp. The film was a shocker—not because of its content, but because of terrible production values. It was shot on high-definition video, not in itself bad, unless you're so sloppy that you fail to light scenes to resemble film.

Dante Spinotti, the director of photography, delivered a new level of low to motion picture image quality. The film looked like very cheap television. It used Sony's F23 HD camera system. With care, these cameras can look exactly like film. The problem was the care was omitted.

With mandates to save money, motion picture studios are checking to see if dumbed down audiences can see the difference between film and video. If they don't and "Public Enemies" is a big hit, most everything will be shot on video in the future simply because it costs much less.

Equally disturbing were the inane reviews of the film that suggested Spinotti's work broke new ground in visual imagery. Even a few thought he deserves an Academy Award for cinematography. That would be the final insult and killer of film-based cinema.

In interviews, Spinotti uses a bunch of fancy talk to justify his foray into junk cinema. But it's just that. This movie is a voyage into a new level of cheapness. With the absence of good reviewers and a smart audience, they hope to get away with it. Hopefully there are still enough of us that know the difference.

Johnny Depp in "Public Enemies"