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TRICKSTERS AND HUCKSTERS: SHOW BIZ ARCHETYPES
by Addison De Witt
“The Showbiz Sociopath”
I am often asked by readers what propels such a motley group of misfits, narcissists and paranoids to seek their fame and fortune in Hollywood. Collectively, actors, writers, directors, producers and agents seem to share a desperate need for recognition and approval, and are drawn to the movie business as if it were an oasis emerging out of the dry desert of The Unhappy Childhood. An oasis is an apt analogy, for that recognition and approval is, in reality, a mirage. Some do get to drink the water, and luxuriate under the shade of the swaying palms. But most of us, even if we are briefly allowed to dip a toe into the intoxicating pool, are destined to keep wandering in the desert in search of an ever-elusive destination.
Ironic, isn’t it, because as therapist and former screenwriter Dennis Palumbo puts it,“Hollywood is the worst place to find an approving parent, yet would-be artists of all stripes flock here every year from all over the country looking for precisely that.” James Hillman describes this lust for redemption through fame in a discussion of "reputation" in his book, Kinds of Power (p. 137): "Reputation refers to the immortal part of the soul which seeks to rise from obscurity to visibility in the eyes of the world. Lowly beginnings in poverty, an oppressed and abused childhood, ignominy in the crowd...'fuel' the drive to fame."
Few of us are equipped to withstand the constant rejection, loss of dignity, back-biting and dehumanization that is a given in our field. So, in order to survive, we must build up walls of immunity to keep us from feeling the pain. Some of us come into the business with years of practice at coping with an unjust world. Some of us never learn to cope. Even the most famous and accomplished in our field can find themselves turning to alcohol or drugs because even the pinnacle of success can be built over a bottomless pit of insecurity.
Some of us take this insecurity and use it in our work. For some of us, it’s our very vulnerability that is the key to our creativity, to our ability to draw an audience to us or our work and make the audience care. Think of Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Judy Garland, Montgomery Clift. It’s no coincidence that these people all died prematurely. They were perhaps too vulnerable to live.
Others cope with their insecurity and vulnerability by constructing a tough, protective shell of duplicity, deceit, paranoia and cruelty to mask a potentially crippling fear of failure. They live by the Golden Rule in reverse: “Do unto others...before they do unto you.” Or a credo that would be amusing if it weren’t so prevalent and real: “It’s not enough for me to succeed; my friends must fail.” As Hillman describes it in Kinds of Power (p.131): “Vaulting pride in one’s own capacity; no need of the Gods; no need of the counsel of mentors – this is the ambition universally condemned in tragic literature and heroic epic.” This is the Showbiz Sociopath, but he does not heed Hillman's ominous warning.
It is tempting to ask why this type of person so often does succeed in Hollywood, while the more virtuous and sincere often can’t survive. It is equally tempting to respond that the hateful ones are never truly happy because of the self-loathing that underlies everything they do. Or it could be wishful thinking: What if the most loathsome among us really are happy? Then what? (Pardon me while I go slit my wrists. Talk amongst yourselves.)
OK, I’m back. I couldn’t go through with it. But let’s face it, my friends, life is tough (even outside of Show Business). So what do we do when we confront the face of evil if choosing to curl-up-and-die is not an option? Do we make an attempt to understand the underlying cause of egregious behavior – the aforementioned and ubiquitous Unhappy Childhood – and have compassion for the damaged child within the evildoer? Or, assuming that we all took our lumps as kids and adolescents, do we presume we’re all on a level playing field now that we’ve “matured” into adulthood?
Speaking for myself, Dear Reader, I am painfully aware that as an adult I am responsible for my own actions, regardless of whether I was (hypothetically, of course) bullied on theschool playground. So while I may recognize that all pathological behavior has roots, all the compassion in the world for the wounded child will not protect me from that behavior.
Another completely useless notion is the idea that through thoughtful discussion and a dispassionate airing of grievances one can raise the consciousness of the Showbiz Sociopath. Sorry, ain’t gonna happen. The sociopaths I’ve known in this town have all had a prodigious talent for self-justification. The sociopath constructs an elaborate story – a myth, if you will – in which he inserts himself as the hero. Since everyone else in his personal myth is, by default, out to get him, he is completely justified in taking any action that he feels will further his cause, regardless of the consequences to others. The Showbiz Sociopath sets his own standards for moral and ethical conduct – often outside the limits of society’s norm – and therefore experiences no remorse when others are hurt by his actions.
On occasion, I have crossed paths with such people as I’ve described (which will, alas, be no surprise to avid readers of this column). How many times have I told myself not to take it personally? (Many, I can assure you). And yet, as a creative person (dare I say, an artist?), everything is personal. It is difficult (if not downright impossible and counter-productive) to separate my personal and professional lives. Still, one doesn’t want to be a victim, either. Once you start wearing the mantle of victimhood, it is far too easy to get comfortable and assume that role on a permanent basis.
If you’re like some, you may find yourself bending over backwards to search out your
own responsibility for the dishonorable way the Showbiz Sociopath has treated you, and conclude it’s your own damn fault and you deserve to be punished for having the hubris to aspire to any level of achievement in the first place. Sadly, this is just as defeating as the role of victim (and not nearly as fun).
So, you may ask, what’s a Showbiz Nice Guy to do? Or is the very appellation (Showbiz Nice Guy) an oxymoron? One could easily make the case for adopting the sociopath’s behavior – everybody else is doing it, and getting away with it, so why shouldn’t I? It’s this attitude, however, that explains the exponential increase of the Showbiz Sociopath population. (Not that this is a new phenomenon. The Showbiz Sociopath has been with us, in one form another, since the beginning of time. And there isn’t a Hollywood biography that isn’t riddled with ‘em.)
This whole issue has been on my mind more than ever in the last couple of weeks due to a series of incidents involving two S.B.S.’s in particular, which I am saving for another column (I’m hoping that time will provide a little perspective). As I’ve waded through the minefield of my conflicting emotions, I’ve felt an impotent rage and consuming sadness building inside of me that, if allowed to continue unabated, would become overwhelming and hurt no one but myself.
Much has been said in the pop-psychology arena of the concept of forgiveness as a path to healing. To boil it down to its simplest terms, the idea is that one doesn’t forgive for the benefit of the perpetrator, one forgives to unleash and expunge all the internalized anger and despair so that one can move on to a healthy and productive life. Driving one of L.A.’s canyons the other day, I heard a woman being interviewed on National Public Radio who had a lot to say about this subject. Her adult daughter had been savagely raped and murdered. Her son – the daughter’s brother – never recovered from his sister’s death or his anger against her killer, who had not been brought to justice. This woman’s son commited suicide two years after his sister’s murder. Now both of her children were dead.
But instead of turning her own anger and despair inward, instead of being torn apart and dreaming of revenge, this woman had chosen to “forgive” her daughter’s killer, and was now devoting her life full-time to counseling victims, victim’s families, and the families ofcriminals, as well. By sharing her experiences and helping others, she has healed herself and found peace.
But here I was, listening to this on the radio, full of such bitterness over something some stupid Showbiz Sociopaths had done to me that my own life had been stunted to the point where I was unable to function normally, unable to do my work, to create. I realized in a flash that by holding onto my anger, I was only hurting myself. (God knows the S.B.S.’s weren’t losing any sleep.) But more important, if this woman who had suffered more pain and sorrow than I will ever know could rise above it all, how pathetic was I to continue to hang on to my relatively petty grievances?
In that moment, my life turned around and I was able to function again. I will certainly experience more pain in this business, but I will recover from it and move on, as I have in the past – as we all have. I will not let it destroy me. There was a sign on the wall of the office of the chairman of the grad school program I trained in that read, “Writing Well Is The Best Revenge.” At 22, I didn’t really understand it. I thought it was a catchy phrase and not much more. But now I comprehend its meaning, and it seems like the most profound statement ever made.
Work Cited
Hillman, James. Kinds of Power. New York: Currency Doubleday, 1995.
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