Daddy, What is Success?
I recently read Accidental Genius, the newly released John Cassavetes biography by Marshall Fine, author of the Peckinpah bio, Bloody Sam. Accidental Genius is thorough, respectful of its subject, and inspirational for anyone working in the arts. It is also a love story describing the deeply felt bond and professional relationship between Cassavetes and his wife, superb actress Gena Rowlands.
Cassavetes, arguably, was the father of American independent film, but as the title suggests, he didn't mean to be. His first film grew out of a need to provide a workshop for actors who were unsatisfied, as he was, with the constraints of conventional film and theater. As his career progressed, he continued to finance and make films outside the studio system, even venturing into the risky world of self-distribution. With the exception of A Woman Under the Influence, his (and Rowlands's) masterpiece, his pictures did not make money. Yet, by most people's standards, he lived a pretty great life. He made the kinds of movies he wanted to make, his family never suffered financially, he had many lifelong friends, he managed to maintain a healthy and loving marriage, and when the curtian fell he had left behind a lasting body of work. Not a bad legacy.
In America, artists are often put in the uncomfortable position of discussing their box office receipts, record sales, and Bookscan numbers rather than the work itself. The implication is that a book or movie that does not "win the race" is some kind of failure. (I don't know why the weekend opening numbers are printed in the Arts sections of newspapers, when they should be printed, if at all, in Business.) I was on a panel once with a novelist who bragged to the audience about his ranking on the New York Times Bestseller list, and, in the same sentence, described his recently purchased yacht. A writer friend who had witnessed this later said to me, "He doesn't get it. This is a competition. But it's not that kind of competition."
To my knowledge, extraordinary crime novelists like James Sallis and Daniel Woodrell do not have the wherewithall to purchase yachts. They are working artists, focused on writing good books. The numbers are only important in that healthy sales make their publishers happy and afford these writers the opportunity to continue to do the work that they love to do. I have no doubt that, one hundred years from now, people will still be reading the Lew Griffin books or Winter's Bone, and watching films like Faces, Husbands, and The Killing of a Chinese Bookie. So on what level are people like Sallis, Woodrell, and John Cassavetes not a success?
Love to see you namecheck Sallis and Woodrell, two of the best in the business. Also nice to see your growing relationship with Steve Wynn. Any way for those of us who couldn't come by the promo CD to hear the track you talk about in the previous post? An MP3 on your web site, perhaps?
Posted by: John | August 15, 2006 at 02:15 PM
And, of course, what is so distressing is how, for every Cassavetes, there are so many more film-makers (and authors) who produce staggering work but then are unable to find the resources, or work their way around the system, or get someone with the bucks to take a chance, or another chance, on them. You start to think of the movies you'll never get to see, books you'll never get to read because these artists lack Cassevetes' combination of luck, talent, critical collaborators, etc to keep going ....
Posted by: Megan | August 15, 2006 at 02:35 PM
Megan - Surely as novelists we are luckier than playwrights, choreographers or (god help us) film directors, who really do require the money to put together a creative team to make their art a reality. An unpublished novel can always go in the drawer to be rediscovered and published later. An unmade film or dance is lost forever.
Posted by: Rebecca | August 15, 2006 at 02:47 PM
Indeed, Rebecca! And I must be swept up in melancholy today, but then I think, what if no one opens that drawer to find that manuscript or is willing to shell out the money to publish it? It reminds me of Henry Darger. If I remember correctly, his landlord (whom I was a photographer himself) hadn't found all his writings/artwork and valued it and sought a wider audience for it....
Posted by: Megan | August 15, 2006 at 02:59 PM
I don't know whether or not George can afford a yacht, but I'd damn sure add his name to the list of writers who are unqualified successes by any meaningful standard.
And, keeping with the nautical theme, I hope like hell the new book sells boatloads. Damn, it is good.
Much as I'd love to be a bestseller, I sure wish I could write like that.
Posted by: David J. Montgomery | August 15, 2006 at 03:30 PM
Darger -- now there's a namecheck. Drop that into Google images.
Posted by: Laura | August 15, 2006 at 04:34 PM
Then there's Guy Maddin...who will never be "famous," but if you ever listen to any of his commentaries on his films seems to go out of his way to make sure he never will be!
Posted by: Tribe | August 15, 2006 at 10:55 PM
Megan,
Thank you for totally depressing me.
Now I have to get back to my yacht.
J
Posted by: Jason Starr | August 16, 2006 at 08:02 AM
Just wanted to let you all know that there is a clip of George Pelecanos reading from THE NIGHT GARDENER and Steve Wynn playing backup on the site:
Either visit: http://www.hachettebookgroupusa.com/features/georgepelecanos/news.html
or click here: http://www.hachettebookgroupusa.com/media/NightGardener.mp3
Posted by: Miriam Parker | August 16, 2006 at 09:21 AM
Wow. That's probably one of the most profound explanations that I've ever read, for what success to an artist might possibly be. Nice work.
I would expect nothing less from one of the greatest living writers ever.
Posted by: Jay W | August 16, 2006 at 09:25 PM
I think mainstream movie audiences are approaching film the way best-seller readers have been for years. (I remember a scene in William Goldman's Marathon Man - the book - where a character prides himself with reading nearly everything on the NYTimes best-seller list; and that book came out in the mid-1970's.) More and more people see the box office numbers as an indication of what is good. If a movie doesn't do well in its first weekend, chances are that film won't find an audience at all. And it's not only movie audiences who will dismiss a film with bad numbers; theaters are very anxious to move these weak earners out. George Lucas once said that huge blockbuster movies help smaller films because they allow theaters to open more screens; but what he fails to realize is that theaters use those extra screens for extra showings of those blockbusters.
At least books have the opportunity to find their audiences. Can you imagine if books were under the pressure of being #1 on the best-seller lists in its first three days of release? madness
Posted by: Steve Allan | August 17, 2006 at 11:13 AM
Let it be, let it be... What a strange place here.
;)
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