A Chemical Wedding

Good movies on metaphysical guru-types are hard to come by, mostly because their lives and ideas are just too difficult to convey via a medium that is designed, above all, to entertain. We live during a time of compromised attention-spans. Modern means of communications (such as smartphones and social networking sites) are blurring relational boundaries, but they are also altering our perceptual fields, by creating a rapidly shifting show in which we are constantly tempted to switch focus to the next new thing that is clamoring for our attention.

Entertainment in its raw form (such as via sports, music, and film) has become of such value that athletes and successful entertainers are commonly paid more than doctors. Entertainers are valuable because they distract us, and the man or woman on the street is looking to be distracted from the meaningless elements -- so enhanced by the modern Blade Runner-esque bombardment of images and sensory data -- of their life. 

As such, movie scripts that make us think or that lack a plot that reaches out and grabs the average viewer and holds their attention in the usual base manner, rarely get funded and many never see the light of day. Most films are formulaic and utterly forgettable. Occasionally a gem comes along, perhaps a few a year if we're lucky (The King's Speech, with Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush, which I saw recently, being a sterling example of a quality picture; last year's sci-fi offerings Moon and District 9 being two others). But because the prime need of a film is to attract an audience and make money, the main focus must be on what satisfies the most possible viewers. The appeal to mediocrity has been the bane of all forms of art throughout history, and it is no different with modern film. 

G.I. Gurdjieff was one of the most interesting men of the 20th century, and he led a life that was beyond the vision of even most novelists, and yet an actual biopic of his whole life has yet to be made, even though he's been gone for over sixty years. A movie was made of the first 35 years of his life -- it was directed by Peter Brook, released in 1979, and titled Meetings With Remarkable Men (after Gurdjieff's quasi-autobiographical book of the same title, published posthumously in 1963). The movie ends just when Gurdjieff was about to embark on his teaching career. It is an extremely well made film, lovingly crafted by people involved in Gurdjieff's Work, but what happened to the rest of his life after age 35? Why has there been no film of his most important years as one of the 20th century's most influential gurus? (Incidentally, the role of Prince Lubovedsky in the film, one of Gurdjieff's first mentors, was played by the well known English actor Terrence Stamp, who was himself an initiated disciple of Osho). 

No proper and complete biopic of Gurdjieff has been made for the same reason that none of Aleister Crowley's life has been made either -- to properly do so would require a script that simply could not be compressed into a two hour feature. It would need to be a series, of a length similar to the recent 38 episode production of Henry VIII's life (The Tudors, excellently done I might add). But, of course, that is not the only reason -- any film made by large movie studios must, perforce, uphold the worldviews of those who finance such things. Such a movie script may run the gamut from high quality to low, but it will, in some way, conform. Rogue mystics like Gurdjieff, Crowley (Osho, Trungpa, Adi Da, etc.) rub the 'wrong' way. They do not conform (in the greatest, most general sense -- which in the world of commerce and those with the power to finance a film, is everything).

Which brings me to an interesting little Hammer Horror-esque movie I saw last night, a feature called Chemical Wedding, based on the figure of Crowley. (The movie was retitled simply Crowley in North America). It is the brainchild of Iron Maiden vocalist Bruce Dickinson (he wrote the script), and was directed by Julian Doyle. I'm late to the party on this one: the film was released in May of 2008. The plot is farcical and elements of the movie are clearly plagued by a relatively low budget. In short, this is a B picture. The actors who play Crowley are, however, outstanding (John Shrapnel in the opening scene, Simon Callow the rest of the movie -- though to be accurate, Callow does not play Crowley, but rather an eccentric Cambridge professor who is 'inhabited' by the spirit of Crowley). Apart from that most everything else is relatively low grade, particularly, I thought, the editing (ironic, since the director is a former editor). 

And yet, the film works, precisely because it is not meant to be taken seriously. It is actually high comedy, and I found myself in stitches more than once watching it (one scene, involving Callow's character giving Crowley's 'To pee or not to pee' speech in a lecture hall, is priceless). How much of this comedy is intentional I'm not clear, but almost certainly much of it is, and this is confirmed by a 'making of the movie' featurette that shows several takes where cast and crew burst out laughing at what they are creating. 

The film defines campy, but because it has good overall production values, and a dominant performance by Callow, it can be taken seriously as a creative work that brings to light one of the most controversial (and misunderstood) characters of modern esotericism. 

One other point: I think a movie like Chemical Wedding is also very good for helping followers of Crowley to see a bit more clearly any degree of emotional attachment to their 'supernatural aid' (to use Joseph Campbell's term). There is an old expression from A Course In Miracles: 'the ego hardened the moment we forgot to laugh at it' (paraphrase). Almost certainly the Beast himself would have been greatly amused by this movie, and flattered at the attention it lavishes on his legend, even if hugely distorting it. As Grady McMurtry once remarked, there was no point in whitewashing Crowley's rep because he spent so much time ruining it himself. Chemical Wedding is a type of campy extended commentary on McMurtry's remark.

Mysterious Conjunction

My book The Three Dangerous Magi: Osho, Gurdjieff, Crowley, is available in (some) bookshops this month, and via Amazon. Putting together this book, and watching some of the responses to it, has been interesting. First, I had to choose a title, and hit upon the idea of 'three dangerous wise men' as a sort of comment on the idea of the type of 'prophets' or teachers who appear during dark times, or what in some traditions of the East is known as the Kali Yuga. Of course, the notion that we live in a 'dark time' is matter for profound debate; good arguments can be mounted to prove or disprove this idea. But the main idea of a 'Kali Yuga' teacher is that they specialize in the needs of their time, and in particular, helping people to escape from a prison at night, when there is little light. Such a teacher must know something of prisons -- and of the night -- themselves. They must have an edge to them to awaken people during  a time when there are so many ways to remain distracted and asleep.

Needless to say Osho, Gurdjieff, and Crowley were three highly intriguing characters, but what is probably more intriguing is the sort of view arrived at by followers of the three as to their relative merits. Many admirers of Osho approve of his name being mentioned alongside Gurdjieff, as Osho did, after all, admire the man, and even used some of his teachings in his own ashram. But for many of these same people Crowley is too much of a stretch (and some are even offended at his inclusion). Although, when one actually examines the reasons for this, one finds little substance beyond the usual garish and silly perceptions of the man. He is, in my opinion, quite possibly the single-most maligned and misunderstood mystic of modern times. Angel he was not, but nor are any other 'crazy-wisdom' teachers. The main difference in Crowley's case was that he made of his life an open book. So many teachers operate via elaborate subterfuge and deception; this is true even for many of the 'great' teachers who do, in fact, accomplish legitimate and powerful work.

More than one person has questioned why I chose to include Crowley in my study, but what I've found (to this point) is that most of those who cast doubt on my choice understand very little of Crowley and have not gone much further than reading a popular treatment of him (such as, for example, something by Colin Wilson, a fine popular writer who was heavily influenced by John Symonds, Crowley's most hostile biographer; Wilson overall had a somewhat dim view of his gnostic countryman; not altogether surprising -- often the harshest critics are those close to their object of study. For example, in India you will find some of Osho's greatest supporters, as well as his severest critics).

Crowley was, in fact, brilliant, something obvious for any who actually bother to read him. He was also a key figure in the transition from archaic mystic paths to modern pathways. My own further sense with Crowley is that he could easily have been a disciple of Osho had he been born in a different time. (Obviously a thought colored by my own time as a disciple of Osho, though perhaps not a statement that would be appreciated by a Thelemite). Gurdjieff people can, at times, be the most elitist of followers of the three. The Gurdjieff Work is esoteric in the most practical sense, but many involved in it believe it cannot be properly understood unless one's life is committed to it wholeheartedly. I myself spent one year in the Gurdjieff Work (almost 30 years ago), something that does not (according to at least one author who made it his point to inform me) confer upon me the right to write with authority about his Work. Nevertheless there are ample grounds for comparative study of his life and ideas, and like my other two 'dangerous Magi' he contrasts in many fascinating ways with their life trajectories.

A big problem with the so-called spiritual path is blandness. It is a great irony that the idea of the 'path' is fundamentally that of awakening, and yet many who would awaken us in fact put us to sleep. (Try listening to an Eckhart Tolle talk. A wonderful speaker, lucid, simple, to the point, but absolutely tinder dry and superb for insomnia).

Osho, to his everlasting credit, did not put people to sleep, and nor did Gurdjieff or Crowley, for that matter. They were not alone. There have been other teachers who could awaken not just with their ideas, but with the force of their presence as well, and some of these are still around (Lee Lozowick and Andrew Cohen being two good contemporary cases). Such teachers piss people off as much as they inspire, but they don't send us into sweet dreams with warm fuzzies.

Incidentally, the cover of The Three Dangerous Magi contains an alchemical 'secret'. The image appears to be that of the full Moon at night, alongside a tree. (Apt, as Osho, for one, described his awakening as having occurred in the night under a tree; Gurdjieff said humanity was 'food for the Moon', and Crowley wrote a fine novel called Moonchild). However, it is not in fact the Moon. The image is of the Sun (either a sunrise or sunset), with the color filter of the photo cast in dark blue light. And so while appearing to be the Moon, it is in fact the Sun. In many esoteric teachings appearances have equal power and value to substance, because both are ultimately understood to be the same. The Moon is in the Sun, the Sun in the Moon, the mysterious conjunction. Deus est demon inversus. (God and devil are two sides of the same coin). Awakening is, in essence, the Great Work of uniting apparent opposites.