There is a notion that runs through that placard of science that is offered by those forces that quietly govern society at large, that each person experiences a pivotal moment early on in life that defines their ultimate path and most probably prophesies their most likely outcome. Some influencing event or personage that hearkens a part within the individual that may serve to recall a watershed moment from some hazy entity that might have preceded them depending on the schedule of beliefs that they eventually fall into. A child it is generally said for example develops an inflexible view of the world about him by the age of three. The experience very hard to pin down depending on the validity of accurate details versus impressions of events as stored within one’s memory after so many years. The routine repetition of habitual circumstances over adulthood do tend to hint at the source however.
Thinking back into the gathered mist of early childhood as informed by reminiscences of my now long deceased parents as recorded on audio, my own watershed moment most probably came bundled up on the backseat of their auto at a drive-in movie. The big budget wide screen Technicolor feature being played of the variety of the sword and sandal variety that was based upon a popular post war novel at that time sporting an ancient Egyptian theme. The composite personality of what was to become my most favored avatar being someone finding themselves brought up from childhood in humble circumstances finding out along the way that they possessed significantly noble bloodlines but unfortunately condemned to suffer from both the inequities of a stilted world and their own short sightedness. A pretty accurate depiction of what many children born of that era would be forced to suffer being expected to follow through on the expectations for success that had been absent in their parent’s upbringing.
“I was set adrift on a reed boat upon the Nile made of fouler’s knots.” – [male movie avatar]
“Did you say fouler’s knots!” – [old queen]
And yet in my own case there was a corollary that became over time even more disturbing as taken almost rote from the script of this epic potboiler. That of a naive innocent being corrupted at too early an age by the taint of another’s evil practices to be able to properly reconcile it. And thus being ultimately condemned to live under that shadow for the rest of their existence. The basis of course of the two and a half hours of melodramatic drama. Hollywood rewarding the growth of the seed that they had planted by watering it with the glitz of false promise of easy success all along the way. Something that like all things illusory eventually fades from even those most persistent minds totally embroiled in their own obsessions. The confusion of lust with love being my own speciality as tinctured by the regular inclusion of mostly insincere friendships. It being harder every day in the course of one’s life to tell you friends from your enemies?
How odd that in so many ways art and actuality become interchangeable? The perpetual new kid on the block always the outsider being bullied away from becoming part of the mainstream to create his own version of the order of the universe that was at odds without he status quo. Some morally dubious starlet discovered by some overstimulated middle-aged bigwig producer in Europe providing the model for all future significant engagements and eventually marriage for an impressionable young American male only child. A young man becoming acclimated to a purposefully shifting political environment over the decades turning to an ingrained attitude of perpetual cynicism. Could any spider ask anything more of a nice fat fly struggling impotently within its web? Can there be any doubt that those who control popular imagery on the planet do have a significant long term effect upon those who inhabit it? One can only wonder at what point did the paucity of their own memories from actual personal experience squeeze in betwixt all these other industrially manufactured ones?
Of course, after enduring a lifetime of saturation bombing styled entertainment, it might be cogent to ask if some inexplicable element of etherial off-world influence, one that may or may not be manifest in every one of us, has been the actual target of an astronomically mounting numbers of perpetually restated past tense sequels; all designed to codifying one’s human behavior? That possible muse of having previously enjoyed a past existence that after lifetime of rambling struggle fell short of a positive conclusive awareness of an infallible rule book that booked no Tom foolery. But speaking from the atomized viewpoint of that long ingrained anti-hero perspective it is all Hollywood at this point in some way, or another. One’s efforts over the interim including eventual pilgrimages to far off Egypt so as to collect small samples of its mystic sands in vials to match those portrayed at some desert location long ago shot outside of Los Angeles. A sort of veracity found to support this theory come of re-rolling the epic’s DVD version and still being able to perfectly lip sync all its cheesy dialog word for word even after so many intervening decades. To prevue one’s own photographic record of the different now long forgotten personages that one too soon ran afoul of in life; and then eventually apply them to a specific character’s name!
“Men in their foolishness have named me beautiful.” – [femme fatale]
“Nefer!” – [male movie avatar]
Who knows? Everyone carries a riddle with them. My own unfolding in a lifelong fascination with all topics cinematic. Something birthed within me from early childhood to live under the shadow of exploring its magical hold upon others ever since acknowledging my own. Taking up that currently pervasive popular theory that for those that bother to see their own lives as being more than a meaningless progression of one day after another that somehow they have been here before? That in this round of material experience they are just carrying on, for better or worse, the inertia of those same old long cherished habits and prejudices of that enigmatic past. Who the Hell am I? “. . . and what have I become?“, per a famous country singer lyrics. The continued exposition of certain traits, persistent thoughts, obsessions and behaviors, identifiable in a match to well-publicized figures from the past seeming to superficially vindicate this alternate possibility. “How many Napoleon’s and Madame Curie’s do owe have in the audience tonight?” But that larger fish tank of possible alternate explanations has become in that same sense unavoidably overcrowded.