Genet in the Arena

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In the summer of 1985 he also gave a televised interview to the BBC. It was to be his last public statement. Genet demanded £10,000 in advance and in cash. In return he agreed to be filmed for two days in the house of Nigel Williams, a young novelist, television presenter and the translator of Deathwatch. At the time of the student uprising in May 1968, Genet had been very critical of the form the students’ debates took, especially during the occupation of the Théâtre de l’Odèon. As an experienced playwright he knew that the form is more communicative in a live or filmed event than what anyone manages to say. Accordingly, he constantly interrupted the formula of the television interview. He genuinely believed that he was no more interesting or important than the camera crew and insisted on asking the technicians questions. This reversal of the ordinary television format infuriated many viewers, but none forgot the show.

Edmund White, from Genet: A Biography (1993)

I didn’t forget the show. In fact this particular programme, Saint Genet, has been in the top five of those I wanted to see again ever since copies of old TV recordings started circulating on the internet. The film is another from the BBC’s Arena arts series, and one the corporation is proud of judging by their inclusion of clips in celebrations of Arena‘s history. This pride hasn’t extended to repeat screenings of the entire interview, however, apart from a single occasion a few weeks after Genet’s death in 1986. The days are long passed when the BBC would devote 50 minutes of its evening air-time to a writer who didn’t have a book to plug or some attachment to a popular film or TV drama. In 1985 you could expect as much while also being offered a programme that countered the reactionary tenor of the time: an author whose novels were filled with gay sex, and populated by all manner of social outcasts, from male prostitutes to thieves, murderers and the like.

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Genet in later years refused to discuss his novels or plays so co-director/interviewer Nigel Williams oriented the discussion around the author’s life (many details of which informed his fiction) while augmenting this with readings from the novels along with extracts from films and plays. I didn’t remember the extracts at all even though this would have been my first glimpse of scenes from the only film that Genet directed (and which he typically disowned), Un Chant d’Amour. More memorable was the sight of Genet himself sitting there for the best part of an hour, rolling cigarettes and verbally jousting with a pair of nervous interviewers in a mood of mingled amusement and exasperation. In the past I’ve been uncharitable about Williams’ handling of the situation but he ought to be congratulated for having inadvertently given us a film that’s so typical of its subject. Genet spent most of his life biting the hand that fed him, and always chaffed at the attention he received from the educated middle classes, even though these were the people who were most interested in (and paid for) his novels and plays. Edmund White’s biography tells us that Genet was unimpressed with Williams’ home (which he compared to something out of a Miss Marple story), and was annoyed when he saw the technical crew eating at a separate table to the producers. This annoyance was translated to the second half of the interview which he described as being like a police interrogation.

In his introductory comments Williams says that this was the first interview Genet had given to a major TV network, but it wasn’t Genet’s first filmed interview. The 52-minute film made by Antoine Bourseiller in 1981 contrasts strikingly with the Arena programme, demonstrating that Genet could talk with ease and at length before a camera. The reason, as White once again explains, is that Genet had planned the film in advance with Bourseiller, selecting the topics for conversation and even helping to edit the footage later. So the difference in attitude was all about control, or the lack of it. Wresting control from the BBC meant directing the questions back at the interviewers while drawing attention to the power relations and the intimidating nature of the interview process.

All of this begs the question as to why Genet agreed to place himself in a situation that he found so uncomfortable when he could easily have refused. We’re left to guess but he certainly didn’t do it for the money; he continued to live frugally despite the international success of his literary works. Large sums such as the £10,000 he extracted from the BBC he regularly passed on to needy friends or to political groups who he felt could put the funds to better use. Whatever the reason behind Genet’s participation, I think Williams and co. would agree that their money was well spent.

Previously on { feuilleton }
Covering Genet
Notre Dame des Fleurs: Variations on a Genet Classic
Genet art
Flowers: A Pantomime for Jean Genet
Querelle de Brest
Jean Genet, 1981
Un Chant d’Amour (nouveau)
Jean Genet… ‘The Courtesy of Objects’
Querelle again
Saint Genet
Emil Cadoo
Exterface
Penguin Labyrinths and the Thief’s Journal
Un Chant d’Amour by Jean Genet

Weekend links 512

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Cover art by Tim White for Weaveworld (1987) by Clive Barker.

• Another week leading with obituaries but that’s where we are just now. Among others, we had film maker Bruce Baillie, cartoonist Mort Drucker, lesbian/gay rights activist Phyllis Lyon, film director Nobuhiko Obayashi, artist Tim White, and music producer Hal Willner. Related to the last: Hal Willner’s Vanishing, Weird New York.

Open Door is a new recording by Roly Porter from his forthcoming album, Kistvaen. I designed the CD and vinyl packaging for this one.

• From 1995: Peter Wollen on dandyism, decadence and death in Donald Cammell & Nicolas Roeg’s Performance.

• “Fear, bigotry and misinformation—this reminds me of the 1980s AIDS pandemic,” says Edmund White.

David Lynch wants you to meditate, maybe make a lamp during self-isolation.

• “Weird tale” by Secret Garden author Frances Hodgson Burnett discovered.

• Behind the iron curtain, the final frontier: Soviet space art in pictures.

• Mix of the week: Secret Thirteen Mix 301 by Asher Levitas.

• At Dennis Cooper’s: Raymond Queneau, Party Animal.

Oren Ambarchi Archive at Bandcamp.

Japan’s Tourism Poster Awards.

• Hal Willner produces: Juliet Of The Spirits (1981) by Bill Frisell | Apocalypse (1990) by William S. Burroughs | The Masque Of The Red Death (1997) by Gabriel Byrne

BUTT covered

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What I discovered is that BUTT actually matters, and I’ll tell you why. BUTT fills a hole, as tautologous as that may sound. I’m tempted to say that BUTT fills the vacuum left by the sad and lamented loss of such historically important magazines as the original Andy Warhol’s Interview, After Dark and the first five years of index (under the editorship of Bob Nickas), but since none of those magazines were explicitly and overtly, capital G gay, I guess it’s more accurate to say that BUTT has single-handedly pioneered the notion of a smart, literate and fashionable, conversational gay magazine that isn’t interested in propping up some ideologically proper or even terribly consistent image of what it means to be a homosexual, and that also manages to be dirty. —Bruce LaBruce

BUTT magazine—variously subtitled “Amazing (or Fantastic, or Hysterical) Magazine for Homosexuals”, “The Homosexualist Quarterly”, “International Fagazine”, etc, etc—ceased publication in 2012, but the best of its run is preserved in two book collections from Taschen: BUTT Book (2006), a paperback which seems now to be out of print, and Forever BUTT (2014), a hardback contained within leatherette boards. I was re-reading some of the interviews in the books recently, and feeling the loss of a gay magazine that was easily the best of its kind in the 2000s, a welcome alternative to contemporaries that were little more than glossy aspiration fodder, filled with fashion shoots and anodyne celebrity interviews.

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Issue 1: Bernhard Willhelm by Wolfgang Tillmans.

BUTT wasn’t as thoroughly sex-obsessed as Boyd McDonald’s Straight to Hell but publishers/editors Gert Jonkers and Jop van Bennekom shared McDonald’s determination to reflect the lives of gay men as they were lived, with an equivalence given to complete unknowns (often the magazine’s own readers) as well as to successful writers, musicians and film directors. Interviews with the latter predominately concerned the subjects’ sex lives and interests, they were never promo pieces for current work. BUTT was the only magazine in the world where you might find interviewees such as Gore Vidal and Edmund White rubbing shoulders with a man like Dirty Danny (“the filthiest homosexual on earth”) or a gay refuse collector. I also loved the design which from the first issue used pink paper stock and only two typefaces for the entire run: Compacta for headlines, and different weights of American Typewriter for everything else. The minimal look established a distinct identity that inspired imitation among later titles such as Kaiserin (“A magazine for boys with problems”).

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Issue 2: Lernert in Stüssy by Jop van Bennekom.

BUTT ran for 29 issues in all, stopping short of the 30-issue barrier which smaller magazines often struggle to pass. I’m always torn in cases like this, wishing there might have been more while also being aware that magazines can outlive their initial promise if they run for too long. BUTT certainly maintained its integrity, and we have the books, of course, which is more than many other titles manage. Back issues may be found for sale online but they’re increasingly expensive, a disappointment for would-be collectors but also a sign of the magazine’s cult value. I just wish I’d bought more of them as they appeared.

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Issue 3: Ryan McGinley and Prince by Bruce LaBruce.

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Issue 4: Casey Spooner by Ryan McGinley.

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Issue 5: Ben by Slava Mogutin.

Continue reading “BUTT covered”

Weekend links 329

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Josef Vyletal borrows figures from Aubrey Beardsley’s Salomé for a Czech poster promoting The Immortal Story (1969) by Orson Welles. Vyletal’s own paintings were often strange and surreal.

Pale Fire is Nabokov’s “great gay comic novel,” says Edmund White. A surprising but not inappropriate reappraisal. White has noted in the past that Nabokov “hated homosexuality” despite having a gay brother and uncle. The portrayal of Charles Kinbote in Pale Fire isn’t unsympathetic if you overlook his being delusional, and possibly insane…

• At Folk Horror Revival: details of the charity donations raised by sales of the Folk Horror Revival books, the first of which featured my David Rudkin essay. A one-day Folk Horror Revival event takes place later this month at the British Museum, London.

• Mixes of the week: The Bug presents Killing Sound Chapter 2: Inner Space, a 2-hour blend of “sci-fi scores, expansive atmospheres and synthesized psychedelia”; Decoded Sundays presents Scanner; Secret Thirteen Mix 197 is by LXV.

Stars Of The Lid unveil a James Plotkin remix of their Music For Twin Peaks Episode #30 Pt. 1. Related: the hype for the new Twin Peaks series gets into gear with a teaser.

• Robert Aickman’s only novel, The Late Breakfasters (1964), is being given its first US publication by Valancourt Books.

• “Don’t dream it, bet it.” Evan J. Peterson on 40 years of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

• Anna von Hausswolff’s sister, Maria, directs a video for Come Wander With Me / Deliverance.

• RIP Michael O’Pray, film writer and curator of many festivals of experimental cinema.

• Oli Warwick talks to electronic musicians about the influence of the late Don Buchla.

Breakfast In Bed (1969) by Dusty Springfield | Alan’s Psychedelic Breakfast (1970) by Pink Floyd | Another Breakfast With You (2001) by Ladytron

Weekend links 324

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Untitled painting by Aleksandra Waliszewska. The artist is profiled by S. Elizabeth at Dirge Magazine.

• “…from my point of view, the only thing to do with any genre, any medium, is pretty much to break it, to transcend it, to find out what its limits are, and then go beyond them, and see what happens.” Alan Moore (again) talking to Heidi MacDonald about his novel, Jerusalem, which is out next month.

• A Monument to Outlast Humanity: Dana Goodyear gets the reclusive Michael Heizer to talk about his decade-spanning sculptural project, City, work on which is almost finished.

William Burroughs’ appearances in adult men’s magazines: a catalogue which includes some downloads of uncollected Burroughs essays and other writings.

• Mixes of the week: Homegirls & Handgrenades Mix by Moor Mother, Secret Thirteen Mix 194 by Kareem, and hieroglyphics #014 by Temples.

Remoteness of Light is a new album by The Stargazer’s Assistant inspired by the depths of the oceans and the vastness of space.

• RIP Gilli Smyth. “The silliness ran deep in Gong, but they could groove like mothers, too,” says Joe Muggs.

Guide to Computing: historic computers presented by James Ball as though they were new machines.

• “Oscar Wilde’s De Profundis is one of the greatest love letters ever written,” says Colm Tóibín.

• “Will You Dance With Me?” Derek Jarman films dancers in a gay club in 1984.

• Snapshots from an editor: Donald Weise on working with Edmund White.

Stupid by Wrangler (Stephen Mallinder, Phil Winter and Benge).

The Rutt-Etra-Izer

Dynamite/I Am Your Animal (1971) by Gong | Witch’s Song/I Am Your Pussy (1973) by Gong | Prostitute Poem (1973) by Gong