Dealing With Duality
May 19, 2016
There’s a great scene in Tim Burton’s underrated 1992 film, Batman Returns, in which Bruce Wayne (aka Batman, played by the fantastic Michael Keaton) and Selina Kyle (aka Catwoman, portrayed by the incomparable Michelle Pfeiffer) share a quiet evening by the fire in Wayne Manor. In the midst of their date, the conversation turns to Wayne’s romantic history. Selina asks Bruce if he’s ever been involved in a serious relationship. He says he had one, but it didn’t work out.
“What went wrong?” Selina asks. “Hang on, I think I know. You kept things from her.”
“No. Told her everything,” replies Bruce.
“Oh, yeah?” says Selina, a bit surprised. “And the truth frightened her?”
“Well, there are two truths…” Bruce answers. “She had trouble reconciling them because I had trouble… reconciling them.”
Selina smiles knowingly in response. Bruce continues, “See, Vicki thought...”
“Vicki?” Selina chuckles. “Ice skater or stewardess?”
Bruce laughs a little. “No, she was a photojournalist.”
“Well,” says Selina, “was Vicki right about your difficulty with duality?”
Of course, I think we all know the answer to that question (he is Batman, after all). I myself have struggled with that particular question for many, many years. In fact, it’s one of the reasons why I called this blog “Musings From the Dark Side.” Apart from being a Star Wars reference, it also encapsulates how I feel about myself. I come from a very devout Roman Catholic family, the kind that prays rosaries everyday, and I’ve led a rather sheltered life. I was raised in an environment that prized purity and innocence and goodness above all else.
And yet… I have always been attracted to the “darker side” of life. Even when I was younger, I was always fascinated by the so-called “weird” stuff, like science-fiction and fantasy. I was always more inclined to like darker, more conflicted characters like Batman and Wolverine over the paragons of virtue that I was *supposed* to love as a good, innocent Catholic boy. Like Superman, for example.
As I grew up, my attraction to this aspect of life only came into sharper focus. From comics to games and TV shows to music, I’ve discovered that I enjoy complexity and thoughtfulness over the cutesy, bubblegum pop veneer that most of society seems to value and put forth as the ideal. It’s why I’m a huge fan of things like Joss Whedon’s seminal works like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Firefly, or Ron Moore and David Eick’s excellent remake of Battlestar Galactica. These shows used horror, fantasy, and sci-fi tropes and trappings as a means of exploring the human condition, often with intriguing results.
For instance, one of the most brutal and affecting episodes of Buffy dealt with her mother’s death. It was a starkly realistic episode, with no musical score, no supernatural cause of death (Buffy’s mom had died from a brain aneurysm), and no emotional catharsis. The entire episode is forty minutes of watching a young woman and her closest friends grieve for her loved one. It’s one of the most difficult episodes to watch, and, somewhat paradoxically, one of the best episodes of the series. Also, it's the most honest depiction of death I’ve ever seen in popular culture, because there is no resolution. The only thing we do see is that Buffy is not alone in her sorrow, and there is hope in that.
Many films have explored the dichotomy between the light and dark sides of human nature. One such work is Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan, starring Natalie Portman as Nina, a young prima ballerina who becomes so obsessed with perfection that it eventually leads to her demise. Of course, it doesn’t help that she lives with her very controlling mother and has a dance instructor who constantly pushes her to embrace her inner darkness so that she can “properly” seduce the audience as the Black Swan character in Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. The film explores Nina’s journey from the innocent and pure young girl she was to the sexually awakened but emotionally damaged woman she becomes, all in the name of the perfect performance. It’s one of my favorite movies, mainly because it’s weird and dark and creepy, but also because the performances are great and it has a lot to say about obsession and embracing the duality inherent in our nature. Or failing to do so, as in Nina’s tragic case.
The exploration of this dichotomy exists in a lot of the music I like, as well. Through all of the turmoil I’ve been experiencing this past year, my one true respite has been found in music. Growing up, I was surrounded by music, albeit mostly of the sacred variety, but it gave me an appreciation for the form. Over the past week or so, I’ve been listening to Radiohead’s ninth studio album, entitled A Moon Shaped Pool, and I’ve found it to be one of the best, most introspective records they’ve ever produced. My favorite track from the album, “Decks Dark,” utilizes alien abduction imagery as a metaphor to describe a hopeless yearning for someone or the debilitating power that love can hold over us. At least, that’s my reading of it (feel free to disagree). “In your life, there comes a darkness,” lead singer Thom Yorke intones. “There’s a spacecraft blocking out the sky… We are helpless to resist… In our darkest hour.” The soft guitars, groovy bass line, and percussive elements cement the song as a modern classic from the band, and the lyrics were instantly relatable for me.
Then, just a few days ago, I came across a talented young musician named Meg Myers. She had recently performed a song called “Motel” on Conan O’Brien’s talk show, and while it appeared that her music was somewhat pop-infused, there was still something that caught my interest. The instrumentation on the song was good, if a bit ordinary at first glance, but as Meg danced around the stage and passionately sang about the wanting to live a fulfilling life and the darkness of the world and how we’re falling apart, I started to understand her.
Meg grew up as a Jehovah’s Witness, but rejected it when she reached her late teenage years. Her music and songwriting is raw and emotionally charged, and even sexual at times. It’s also moody, vulnerable, and complicated, which suggests that she’s been through a lot and is the person she’s become because of those experiences. I’m a huge fan of her work, and of her as a performer, because she struggles with some of the same questions I’m also facing at this point in my life.
You see, I also want to live life to its fullest, and I also see the darkness surrounding us and within us. I certainly see it within me. I feel the pull towards it every moment of every day. I try to fight it, but all that does is cause inner turmoil and self-doubt. Rather than doing that, perhaps I should embrace it. I’m not saying to give in to the darker impulses that we all feel at times, but to acknowledge them as an integral part of who we are. None of us are perfect beings. We are all complicated, we are all damaged, we are all searching for that which will make us whole.
All of us are in the dark, straining to find the light.
Let’s help each other get there.
There’s a great scene in Tim Burton’s underrated 1992 film, Batman Returns, in which Bruce Wayne (aka Batman, played by the fantastic Michael Keaton) and Selina Kyle (aka Catwoman, portrayed by the incomparable Michelle Pfeiffer) share a quiet evening by the fire in Wayne Manor. In the midst of their date, the conversation turns to Wayne’s romantic history. Selina asks Bruce if he’s ever been involved in a serious relationship. He says he had one, but it didn’t work out.
“What went wrong?” Selina asks. “Hang on, I think I know. You kept things from her.”
“No. Told her everything,” replies Bruce.
“Oh, yeah?” says Selina, a bit surprised. “And the truth frightened her?”
“Well, there are two truths…” Bruce answers. “She had trouble reconciling them because I had trouble… reconciling them.”
Selina smiles knowingly in response. Bruce continues, “See, Vicki thought...”
“Vicki?” Selina chuckles. “Ice skater or stewardess?”
Bruce laughs a little. “No, she was a photojournalist.”
“Well,” says Selina, “was Vicki right about your difficulty with duality?”
Of course, I think we all know the answer to that question (he is Batman, after all). I myself have struggled with that particular question for many, many years. In fact, it’s one of the reasons why I called this blog “Musings From the Dark Side.” Apart from being a Star Wars reference, it also encapsulates how I feel about myself. I come from a very devout Roman Catholic family, the kind that prays rosaries everyday, and I’ve led a rather sheltered life. I was raised in an environment that prized purity and innocence and goodness above all else.
And yet… I have always been attracted to the “darker side” of life. Even when I was younger, I was always fascinated by the so-called “weird” stuff, like science-fiction and fantasy. I was always more inclined to like darker, more conflicted characters like Batman and Wolverine over the paragons of virtue that I was *supposed* to love as a good, innocent Catholic boy. Like Superman, for example.
As I grew up, my attraction to this aspect of life only came into sharper focus. From comics to games and TV shows to music, I’ve discovered that I enjoy complexity and thoughtfulness over the cutesy, bubblegum pop veneer that most of society seems to value and put forth as the ideal. It’s why I’m a huge fan of things like Joss Whedon’s seminal works like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Firefly, or Ron Moore and David Eick’s excellent remake of Battlestar Galactica. These shows used horror, fantasy, and sci-fi tropes and trappings as a means of exploring the human condition, often with intriguing results.
For instance, one of the most brutal and affecting episodes of Buffy dealt with her mother’s death. It was a starkly realistic episode, with no musical score, no supernatural cause of death (Buffy’s mom had died from a brain aneurysm), and no emotional catharsis. The entire episode is forty minutes of watching a young woman and her closest friends grieve for her loved one. It’s one of the most difficult episodes to watch, and, somewhat paradoxically, one of the best episodes of the series. Also, it's the most honest depiction of death I’ve ever seen in popular culture, because there is no resolution. The only thing we do see is that Buffy is not alone in her sorrow, and there is hope in that.
Many films have explored the dichotomy between the light and dark sides of human nature. One such work is Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan, starring Natalie Portman as Nina, a young prima ballerina who becomes so obsessed with perfection that it eventually leads to her demise. Of course, it doesn’t help that she lives with her very controlling mother and has a dance instructor who constantly pushes her to embrace her inner darkness so that she can “properly” seduce the audience as the Black Swan character in Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. The film explores Nina’s journey from the innocent and pure young girl she was to the sexually awakened but emotionally damaged woman she becomes, all in the name of the perfect performance. It’s one of my favorite movies, mainly because it’s weird and dark and creepy, but also because the performances are great and it has a lot to say about obsession and embracing the duality inherent in our nature. Or failing to do so, as in Nina’s tragic case.
The exploration of this dichotomy exists in a lot of the music I like, as well. Through all of the turmoil I’ve been experiencing this past year, my one true respite has been found in music. Growing up, I was surrounded by music, albeit mostly of the sacred variety, but it gave me an appreciation for the form. Over the past week or so, I’ve been listening to Radiohead’s ninth studio album, entitled A Moon Shaped Pool, and I’ve found it to be one of the best, most introspective records they’ve ever produced. My favorite track from the album, “Decks Dark,” utilizes alien abduction imagery as a metaphor to describe a hopeless yearning for someone or the debilitating power that love can hold over us. At least, that’s my reading of it (feel free to disagree). “In your life, there comes a darkness,” lead singer Thom Yorke intones. “There’s a spacecraft blocking out the sky… We are helpless to resist… In our darkest hour.” The soft guitars, groovy bass line, and percussive elements cement the song as a modern classic from the band, and the lyrics were instantly relatable for me.
Then, just a few days ago, I came across a talented young musician named Meg Myers. She had recently performed a song called “Motel” on Conan O’Brien’s talk show, and while it appeared that her music was somewhat pop-infused, there was still something that caught my interest. The instrumentation on the song was good, if a bit ordinary at first glance, but as Meg danced around the stage and passionately sang about the wanting to live a fulfilling life and the darkness of the world and how we’re falling apart, I started to understand her.
Meg grew up as a Jehovah’s Witness, but rejected it when she reached her late teenage years. Her music and songwriting is raw and emotionally charged, and even sexual at times. It’s also moody, vulnerable, and complicated, which suggests that she’s been through a lot and is the person she’s become because of those experiences. I’m a huge fan of her work, and of her as a performer, because she struggles with some of the same questions I’m also facing at this point in my life.
You see, I also want to live life to its fullest, and I also see the darkness surrounding us and within us. I certainly see it within me. I feel the pull towards it every moment of every day. I try to fight it, but all that does is cause inner turmoil and self-doubt. Rather than doing that, perhaps I should embrace it. I’m not saying to give in to the darker impulses that we all feel at times, but to acknowledge them as an integral part of who we are. None of us are perfect beings. We are all complicated, we are all damaged, we are all searching for that which will make us whole.
All of us are in the dark, straining to find the light.
Let’s help each other get there.
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