Showing posts with label nonfiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nonfiction. Show all posts

Thursday, October 19, 2023

The Star Child and the Phantom of the Opera #WEP

 


Genre:
Nonfiction

Critique Preferences:
Whatever. Just don't be a dick.

Tagline:
The Other remains reviled.

The Essay:

Over the course of more than a century, many actors have played Erik, the title character of Gaston Leroux's 1910 Gothic mystery/romance The Phantom of the Opera. Born with a disfigured face, Erik was abandoned by his father and his mother expressed overt disgust at his deformity. He wears a mask to hide his face.

A feeling of being an outsider may not be necessary for an actor to portray Erik authentically, but it can certainly help. Lon Chaney, the first actor to interpret Erik on film, was the son of deaf parents. He learned sign language at a young age. Chaney exhibited a self-reliant and perfectionist attitude, which sometimes strained his relationships.

Chaney drew from sympathy for The Other to lend authenticity to his portrayals of deformed or monstrous characters. As he wrote in a 1925 article for Movie magazine:

"I wanted to remind people that the lowest types of humanity may have within them the capacity for supreme self-sacrifice. The dwarfed, misshapen beggar of the streets may have the noblest ideals. Most of my roles since The Hunchback, such as The Phantom of the Opera, He Who Gets Slapped, The Unholy Three, etc., have carried the theme of self-sacrifice or renunciation. These are the stories which I wish to do."

Ray Bradbury once said of Chaney, "He was someone who acted out our psyches. He somehow got into the shadows inside our bodies; he was able to nail down some of our secret fears and put them on-screen. The history of Lon Chaney is the history of unrequited loves. He brings that part of you out into the open, because you fear that you are not loved, you fear that you never will be loved, you fear there is some part of you that's grotesque, that the world will turn away from."

Unlike Erik, Lon Chaney was a triumphant figure whose abilities as an actor and makeup artist are still lauded more than eighty years after his passing.

Nearly seventy-five years after Lon Chaney brought the Phantom of the Opera to life, a man better known as a musician than a thespian brought a powerful authenticity to the role, drawing inspiration from his own experiences. The name Paul Stanley has become synonymous with the Star Child character he created for his band, Kiss. Star Child allowed Paul a way to become someone besides Stanley Bert Eisen, a deeply wounded and angry young man who looked normal on the surface but saw himself as distorted and possibly unlovable.

Until I read Paul’s autobiography, I had no idea how sensitive and thoughtful he is. I knew he had been born with microtia, a condition affecting both the appearance and function of the ear. Paul’s right ear was deformed, lacking an ear canal and eardrum. His peers targeted him for ridicule, calling him Stanley the One-Eared Monster. Between holding his own against bullies and dealing with a volatile home environment, Paul became a defensive personality always ready for a fight.

Although Paul’s parents never expressed any strong revulsion regarding his disability, they weren’t particularly supportive either. Paul describes the house he grew up in as filled with constant tension and frequent arguments. His older sister had serious mental health challenges and at times acted out violently. His parents weren’t affectionate with each other or their children. Paul believes his thirst for acceptance led him to develop addictive sexual behaviors.

Unlike the tragic and ultimately doomed Erik, Paul Stanley is a triumphant figure. He found success at a young age despite his insecurities. He managed to avoid succumbing to substance addiction in an industry that offers constant temptation. He has a healthy relationship with his children. He has been been happily married to his second wife, Erin, since 2005. He credits mental health counseling with helping him work through his anger, self-doubt, and tendency to overextend himself to the point where he starts having panic attacks.

Since Gaston Leroux wrote The Phantom of the Opera, attitudes toward those who do not conform to exacting standards of beauty have not significantly changed. People still place a greater emphasis on a person's external appearance than on their character. While technological advancements have been impressive in recent decades, ridiculing those who fail to meet rigid ideals of attractiveness remains not only acceptable but encouraged. We need to do better, starting now.

730 words

Acknowledgements

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lon_Chaney

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Microtia

Blake, Michael F. A Thousand Faces: Lon Chaney's Unique Artistry in Motion Pictures. Vestal, New York: Vestal Press, 1997. ISBN 978-1-8795-1121-7.

https://amzn.to/45GHKAB

Stanley, Paul (2014). Face the Music: A Life Exposed. HarperCollins. p. 13. ISBN 9780062114068.

https://amzn.to/3S1E4Gf

Gaston Leroux’s Phantom of the Opera is in the public domain. Free digital copies of the story are available here.

https://standardebooks.org/ebooks/gaston-leroux/the-phantom-of-the-opera/alexander-teixeira-de-mattos




Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors

Ornery Owl Sez:
You know how some people like to abbreviate the names of their favorite movies or TV programs? Like GOT for Game of Thrones or SNG for Star Trek: The Next Generation? You don't want to abbreviate Phantom Of the Opera. Trust me on this.








Sunday, March 27, 2022

My Misunderstood Monkey Mind #8Sunday #MFRWHooks #SnipSun #CharitySunday

 


My Charity Sunday post this month features a potential chapter from the autobiography/motivational book that I've intended to publish for years. Here are a few sentences to give you an idea of what you're getting into.

In my younger days, I enjoyed mind-altering drugs quite a lot. Anything that allowed me to forget my despised self and my shitty reality was a welcome companion. My party pals thought I was a bit nuts when I said that I'd rather sit in the corner drinking a six-pack by myself than hook up with a random dude for meaningless sex, but I didn't really give a rat's ass what they thought. I liked my substances, and it felt like my substances liked me. 

There are things that I'm starting to understand now that so many decades have passed between me and those days of smoke and drink and the occasional pill or hit of acid. I really hated myself and I was dying to escape the garbage reality that was my life. I wouldn't have minded if I'd literally died. 

I was self-harming, and I made a half-assed suicide attempt that landed me on the psych ward for a weekend. While on the psych ward, I received lots of compassionate help, learned that I was a wonderfully worthwhile young lady, and never touched alcohol or drugs again.

Psych! I'm just messing with you.

If you liked that crap, continue reading the rest of the post by following the link below. 


Every comment I receive on the linked post translates to a buck for the American Art Therapy Association. Support independent weirdness and a great cause too!

Don't feel like you have to leave a comment on both this post and the Charity Sunday post. One or the other is fine.

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~



Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors
Ornery Owl's mind is filled with the seeds of ideas. 
Sometimes they all blossom at once.


Hop to It








Monday, October 7, 2019

Real Cie Reviews + Hearth and Soul Link Party + Inspire Me Monday #246 + Promote Yourself Monday: Burn Zones



Genre:
Autobiography
(Subtopics: entrepreneurship)

Rating: 
Four out of Four stars at Online Book Club
Five out of Five stars on Amazon

Disclosure:
I received a free copy of this book for review purposes.
If you purchase a copy of the book through the above link, I will earn a small commission.


As a book reviewer, it makes me very happy when I can enthusiastically recommend a book.

Jorge Newberry's Burn Zones makes me very happy. 

Not only is this fascinating autobiography extremely well-written, through its pages I discovered a kind soul who truly cares about others. 

Jorge is the sort of person that this world needs more of. 

He takes it upon himself to understand the mindset of the people he encounters and to show compassion to those that society at large tends to judge harshly.

Like most power players, Jorge has an intense personality. But he understands that not everyone is wired the way he is. He is also uncompromising in his approach to himself, describing not only his strengths but his potential shortcomings.

Jorge Newberry has a humble, honest, personable style. I thoroughly enjoyed reading Burn Zones and recommend it without reservation. If you enjoy real-life stories and appreciate those who think of others before themselves, I believe that Burn Zones is a great choice for your next read.

~Cie~






Monday, March 20, 2017

Let The Wrong One In



I generally don’t participate in writing challenges. Writing challenges are for nice, normal people whose thoughts work in a linear direction and resemble the web of a proper spider, not one of those messed-up spiders who has been given, say, LSD.
My thoughts resemble the web of a spider on LSD.
At first glance, I pass for normal. I’m astoundingly plain. I’m a gray-haired, middle-aged woman with a body far rounder than those bodies which are deemed beautiful. I’m someone that nobody looks at twice. This is fine. I wouldn’t want to be one of those people who is celebrated solely for their physical appearance.
Realizing from a young age that I had a great face for radio, I believed that I might be able to make a living with my writing. I have always been highly imaginative, my head filled with unique and sometimes controversial ideas. I am open-minded and empathic. I thought I could combine these traits of imagination, empathy, and open-mindedness, I could reach those who, like me, were different and misunderstood.
I learned that nobody is interested in the works of a person who can’t tie their ideas up in a neat little package. I have tried, but outside of short stories, I can’t do it. My novels will always have a myriad of subplots. When I try to constrain my thoughts into a tidy parcel, the end result doesn’t feel authentic.
This is the result of my anomalistic mind refusing to conform to the rules of proper writing.
I did not do well with writing in the sixth grade, where I had a teacher who insisted we make an outline first and then follow that outline exactly, but not too exactly, or he’d know we wrote the story first and then made the outline. This teacher quite literally gave me PTSD regarding the use of outlines.


A scan of the weird world inside my skull would reveal that my brain looks something like a bowl full of radioactive cherry Jello with a few amusing blobs of lime Jello thrown in for fun. Another type of scan would reveal that my synapses always think it’s the Fourth of July and they are fireworks.  Even in a balanced state of mind, known as euthymia, and performing mundane, non-stressful tasks, my synapses would be firing off with inappropriate levels of excitement. The way my brain works is similar to having a person begin dancing around in brightly colored clothes at a staid and formal affair.
This world dislikes people like me. I have come to understand that those things which interest me do not interest anybody else. I am strange, I am eccentric. At first glance I pass for normal, but I am not.
When writing a novel, I could try to do it the way everybody else does. I could try to kill all the subplots that dance into my mind. I could try to write a nice, ordinary book which might sell, but it probably wouldn’t because it would be awful. A book written without spirit is a dead world.
I cannot weave my thoughts in the manner of a normal spider weaving its web.
My thoughts will always weave in the manner of a spider on LSD.
It is exhausting to be me.
Yet me is the only thing I know how to be.
I have had people ask me why I don’t ask a doctor to medicate away the overstimulated state inside my head.
I tried this once. The cure was worse than the problem.
Most antidepressants don’t make me less depressed, they make me manic and psychotic. The exception is Prozac, which makes me flat and turns my thoughts to self-harm, not for the usual reasons, but because I start wondering if I can still feel.
I am normally neither manic nor psychotic, and usually I can feel, perhaps too much.
I have type 2 bipolar disorder, which manifests hypomania rather than full mania.
Hypomania can be equally destructive, but its presentation isn’t as extreme as full mania. This is why bipolar 2 tends to be misdiagnosed.
I am not psychotic. I have an esoteric belief system, but I know the difference between the metaphysical and physical world. I am grounded in reality. I am all too aware that there are a myriad of horrific things happening in the world at any given time. I wish that I could stop these things from happening. I know that I can’t.
I take a low dose of Lithium to help manage the hypomania and the paranoia that are part and parcel of my particular and peculiar mind. Lithium doesn’t make me flat the way Prozac did. It’s more akin to turning the dimmer switch on a light to a lower setting than to turning off the light.
LIthium allows me to be less extreme. It allows me to think things through, to not be enticed into unhealthy relationships, to spend my money a bit more wisely. It hasn’t yet stopped me from overworking myself, and it doesn’t stop myriads of subplots from appearing out of left field, right field, center field, or dropping in from the Heavens above and popping up from the Hells below.
I don’t want my stories to be without multiple subplots. I like the LSD spiderweb that my mind weaves. I’m not even especially bothered by the fact that other people generally don’t care for the way my writing jumps this way and that.
What bothers me is the fact that most people believe that stories can only take a linear form, that there is only one right way to tell a tale, and if the author fails to adhere to said conventions, they are to be shamed and pushed away from writing as they enjoy.
Some minds don’t weave their tales in the manner of a normal spider.
Some of us are LSD spiders.
It’s wrong to demand that minds which are not neurologically typical work like minds that are.

~Cie~