Demons
Dear Lisa,
So many things are running around at the same time in my mind! Concepts are being revised, not the easiest thing in the world to do. It all began when I got the news yesterday that the play I had entered in Brazil's most important playwriting contest didn't make it. Only one work from the State of Rio de Janeiro got an award, and it wasn't my play. Lots of things to think about here. First of all there's the paradox that I never really believed I could get an award with this play. I like it all right, there are parts of it that I'm very proud of (to make up for parts that I think I could never get right), but the thing is that almost invariably these contests favor works that deal with national themes and typically Brazilian characters, often from the interior, speaking and acting like the population of the small centers. I wrote the story of a Jewish-French orchestra conductor who, following the occupation of Paris in 1940, is chased by the Germans, runs away to Brazil and finds refuge in Rio. The play's lead is a young writer who unearths the conductor's story so as to write a book. None of that sounds very Brazilian.
Towards the end, the conductor tells about his big success at the Covent Garden, in London, conducting Don Quixote. No, decidedly not very Brazilian. The play is what it is, what it became by itself. I didn't tell anyone, but I really didnt have great hopes for it at the contest. And I was right. The titles of the 15 plays from all regions of Brazil that were awarded reflect just that. The intention of promoting a national theater focused on the Brazilian culture. I don't blame them. I think it's perfectly acceptable. But from the start, I didn't expect my play to stand any chances. Even remotely. So far so good.
But why, then, am I feeling so miserable today, so utterly disappointed, and on the verge of depression? I mean, I knew chances were very thin. I was a very dark horse. So what's the big deal? I woke up in the middle of the night and then again early in the morning feeling like a goddamn loser. People like this play, not to mention that the actors love it (some of them passionately!) It made the team from the cultural center where it was read in public for the first time say that they had never seen a reaction from the audience like the one we got. There's nobody who dislikes it or thinks it's badly flawed in any way. I should be happy (and perhaps a little more careful not to make comments like these, bordering on self praise of the worst kind). But here I am, feeling like shit because it didn't win. It doesn't make any sense.
What doesn't show on the surface is right under it. We are vain, that's what. We live in a structure in which failure is not admissible. Even if it's not really a failure, there's a voice all the time saying, "Don't give me that bullshit of 'national themes and typically Brazilian characters'. You lost! That's all there is to it. You tried, but were not good enough. So you lost."
None of us is ever free from demons. They are our own creation. We folks are good at creating characters and darn good at creating demons. What we folks are not good at is getting those bloody demons out of the picture for good. That, even with the admirable help of the likes of good ol' Doktor Sig, we never really learned how to do.
So many things are running around at the same time in my mind! Concepts are being revised, not the easiest thing in the world to do. It all began when I got the news yesterday that the play I had entered in Brazil's most important playwriting contest didn't make it. Only one work from the State of Rio de Janeiro got an award, and it wasn't my play. Lots of things to think about here. First of all there's the paradox that I never really believed I could get an award with this play. I like it all right, there are parts of it that I'm very proud of (to make up for parts that I think I could never get right), but the thing is that almost invariably these contests favor works that deal with national themes and typically Brazilian characters, often from the interior, speaking and acting like the population of the small centers. I wrote the story of a Jewish-French orchestra conductor who, following the occupation of Paris in 1940, is chased by the Germans, runs away to Brazil and finds refuge in Rio. The play's lead is a young writer who unearths the conductor's story so as to write a book. None of that sounds very Brazilian.
Towards the end, the conductor tells about his big success at the Covent Garden, in London, conducting Don Quixote. No, decidedly not very Brazilian. The play is what it is, what it became by itself. I didn't tell anyone, but I really didnt have great hopes for it at the contest. And I was right. The titles of the 15 plays from all regions of Brazil that were awarded reflect just that. The intention of promoting a national theater focused on the Brazilian culture. I don't blame them. I think it's perfectly acceptable. But from the start, I didn't expect my play to stand any chances. Even remotely. So far so good.
But why, then, am I feeling so miserable today, so utterly disappointed, and on the verge of depression? I mean, I knew chances were very thin. I was a very dark horse. So what's the big deal? I woke up in the middle of the night and then again early in the morning feeling like a goddamn loser. People like this play, not to mention that the actors love it (some of them passionately!) It made the team from the cultural center where it was read in public for the first time say that they had never seen a reaction from the audience like the one we got. There's nobody who dislikes it or thinks it's badly flawed in any way. I should be happy (and perhaps a little more careful not to make comments like these, bordering on self praise of the worst kind). But here I am, feeling like shit because it didn't win. It doesn't make any sense.
What doesn't show on the surface is right under it. We are vain, that's what. We live in a structure in which failure is not admissible. Even if it's not really a failure, there's a voice all the time saying, "Don't give me that bullshit of 'national themes and typically Brazilian characters'. You lost! That's all there is to it. You tried, but were not good enough. So you lost."
None of us is ever free from demons. They are our own creation. We folks are good at creating characters and darn good at creating demons. What we folks are not good at is getting those bloody demons out of the picture for good. That, even with the admirable help of the likes of good ol' Doktor Sig, we never really learned how to do.