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.
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.
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