All Who Wander Are Not Lost

by Kerrin Ross Monahan


 
  
 “All who wander are not lost.”—Tolkien

“Everything comes from somewhere.”—Rushdie

The way to avoid tragedy is to cultivate a sense of it” (Robert D. Kaplan). Aidan Chamber has said that the classic definition of story is: “What happens to whom, and why,” and since, as he reminds us, “story is everywhere,” we need to look everywhere in order to find exactly what it is we should be searching for.

We should start with oral tradition, with what Seamus Heaney calls: “the directness of utterance” by the skalds, bards, jongleurs, troubadours (and Rushdie’s the “Shah of Blah”), and from there progress through the arts up to the present.

A quest is a search or pursuit made in order to find or obtain something. There is a testing of some importance and obstacles to overcome. The goal or prize could be: The Holy Grail, hidden treasure, a castle or kingdom or fair maiden. It could well be something intangible such as: salvation, redemption, revenge, justice, peace, truth, glory, courage, strength, wisdom, faith, love, or hope. Sometimes one isn’t certain what it is that she/he seeks. Some fail, others do reach their goal.

The quest occurs in all types of literature, music, and historic events the world over, and all forms reflect the historical and cultural base in which they are embedded. There is a universality, however, a basic humanism about them all—a transcending core that resonates with everyone.

The quest can take the form of a grand and sweeping heroic epic, can appear in a short poem, a long narrative, an interior monologue, a small gem of a fable, a “pourquoi” story, a nursery rhyme. It can be found in certain films, music, plays, opera, novels, and rock songs. It can take the form of a chivalric romance, fairytale, folktale, mythology, legend, or nationalistic or religious saga. It can be emotionally heavy, or light and airy, and may contain both elements of tragedy and comedy. (Barzun points out that the word “tragedy” means “goat song” and in the Renaissance the word “comedy” meant any sort of play—drama in general.) He also states that the epic, thought of as a serious genre, is “often close to burlesque.”

The quest can be in the form of a cautionary tale, allegory, rules of conduct, a coming-of-age work or nationalistic propaganda. It can be gorgeous and soaring in tone, and heartwarming, whimsical, and quaint, or raw, ugly, and petty—but always passionate and always magic. It can entertain (hopefully, always), anger and disturb, instruct and uplift, enchant and inspire: one should come away thinking, analyzing, considering and questioning—and be receptive to and expressive about the core meaning of each story.

In each instance the characters could be any of the following: druids, oracles, pookas, banshees, piskies, kelpies, leprechauns, trolls, elves, menehunes, water sprites, Baba Yagas, dwarves, goblins, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, wizards, nissers, sorcerers, ogres, mummies, monsters, fairies, witches, queens, gremlins, brownies, golems, giants, genies, Black and Tans, angels, kings, dragons, devils, talking animals, and of course, larger-than-life heroic warriors (both male and female), their evil human counterparts, and naturally, a large cast of “common folk” such as farmers, innkeepers, “hoors,” hobbits, beggars, and children.

Props include: ancient books and parchments, thunder and fire, magic swords, cloaks, wooden legs, riddles and runes, shoes and lamps, talking cats, flying horses, snakes and toads, secret doorways and curses, spells, passwords, boats, bikes, rafts, umbrellas, whales, Cadillacs and taxis, dreams, visions, portents and nightmares, poisons and elixirs, trees and burning bushes, vast quantities of beer, wine, mead, and weed, and of course, gold rings.

Because, on the whole, we in this country have been exposed to mostly Western Canon, some may not be aware that there is a plenitude of much admired, and many revered, works of all genres that come from a global cultural base. Much of Western art, in fact, is based upon, or drawn from, ancient worldwide customs and lore.

The following is not meant by any means to be all-inclusive; the selections are certainly subjective. If they are top heavy with works from Great Britain, it is because (until fairly recently), our nation’s literary canon has derived mainly from and has glorified our “motherland’s” literature.

I Western

Great Britain and Ireland

The Cuchulain CycleThe Finn Cycle, (Fin M’Coul), two pre-Christian Celtic epics: The Hound of Ulster and Queen MabBeowulf: Anglo Saxon epic Christian poem composed sometime between 650 ad and 900 AD. Seamus Heaney, Irish Nobel Laureate Poet, renders a brilliant translation. King Arthur, Knights of the Round Table, Merlin, The Holy Grail, and Robin Hood. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (author unknown). The Crusades, St. George and the Dragon, William Langland’s Piers Plowman, Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales, the Welsh White Book of Rchydderch, Sir Thomas Mallory’s Le Morte d’ Arthur. Morality plays and mystery plays for example, Everyman, dramatized allegories of Christian life: a quest for salvation.

Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene, Shakespeare’s English and Roman histories, tragedies and tragic-comedies. He was extremely knowledgeable about the volatile social and political issues of his day: the escalating patriotism and nationalism, the new colonialism, and concerns about the royal succession. A.L. Rowse tells us that he (Shakespeare) “. . . knew too well how thin is the crust of civilisation; how easy for society to break down, to fall into what dark waters beneath.” In these works, Shakespeare’s quest is for order and obedience to authority.

Milton’s Paradise Lost, John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress, Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe and Moll Flanders, Richardson’s Clarissa, Fielding’s Tom Jones, Edward Fitzgerald’s (translation) The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam, Wordsworth’s The Prelude, Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and Kubla Khan, Blake’s The Four Zoas and Jerusalem, Shelley’s Prometheus Unbound, Keat’s HyperionThe Eve of St. Agnes and La Belle Dame Sans Merci, Byron’s Childe Harold, Sir Walter Scott’s historical novels and ballads, Dicken’s Bleak HouseDavid CopperfieldGreat Expectations and A Tale of Two Cities, Robert Browning’s Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came, Tennyson’s Ulysses and Idylls of the King, Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, Stevenson’s Treasure Island, Kipling’s Just So Stories, Sir James Barrie’s Peter Pan, Hugh Lofting’s Dr. Doolittle, Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows, A.A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh, P.L. Travers’ Mary Poppins, Beatrix Potter’s Peter Rabbit, James Joyce’s Ulysses, Yeats’ Fairy Tales of Ireland, T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland, Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Ring Trilogy, C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia, Roddy Doyle’s A Star Called Henry, J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series

North America

Highwater’s Anpao (the Native American UlyssesThe Sedna Legends of the Inuits, Paul Bunyan’s tall tales, the tales of Pecos Bill the Cowboy, Melville’s Moby Dick, Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, Joel Chandler Harris’ Uncle Remus Stories (a retelling of stories brought from overseas by African slaves), L. Frank Baum’s The Wizard of Oz, Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises, Ralph Ellison’s The Invisible Man, the Russian born Nabokov’s Lolita, Steven Spielberg’s E.T., and, with George Lucas, the Indiana Jones sagas and Star Wars series.

French Canada
The Adventures of Petit Jean

Mexico/South America
Why the Burro Lives With ManThe Tale of the Lazy People and many legends and myths from the Incas and Aztecs and Mayan civilizations

Greece
Homer’s The Iliad, The OdysseyAesop’s Fables

Italy
The Roman poet Virgil’s The Aëneid, the poet Dante’s The Inferno, the poet Tasso’s Jerusalem Delivered

Spain
El Cid (the epic poem El Cantar de Mio Cid), Cervante’s Don Quixote

Portugal
Comoën’s The Lusiads

France
The deeds of Charlemagne, Le Chanson de Roland, Jean de Neun’s Roman de la Rose, La Fontaine’s Fables, Perrault’s folktales (Cinderella), Villanueva’s Beauty and the Beast, Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo, Saint Exupéry’s Le Petit Prince, de Brunhoff’s Stories of Babar

Germany
The Nibelungen Saga (heroic sagas), the tales of the Brothers Grimm, Richard Wagner’s Opera CycleThe Ring of the Neibelung

Norway/Sweden/Denmark
The great sagas involving Valhalla and the gods Thor, Odin, Freya, and Loke; Hans Christian Andersen’s tales

Iceland

The Elder EddaThe Younger Edda (ancient manuscripts), from these comes The Volsunga Saga

Finland

The saga The Kalevala

Russia

The Legend of the Firebird, Pushkin’s fairy tales, Vasilissa the Fair

II Middle East

The sacred texts: The Holy BibleThe TorahThe TalmudThe Koran. Firdavsi’s Shah (collection of legendary Persian epic folktales), the splendid Arabian Nights, the Islamic legend The Night Journey (Mohammed’s Night Ride to Heaven) Nobel Laureate Isaac B. Singer’s Zlateh the Goat and Other Stories

III India

The Fables of BidpaiThe Jatake Tales of Buddha, the cycle of fables in the Hindu collection of the Panchatantha, Vyasa’s Mahabharata, Valmiki’s Ranayana, Salman Rushdie’s Shame and Haroun and the Sea of Stories

IV Africa

Tribal tales of witchdoctors and brave warriors, folktales like Anansi the SpiderPodhu and AruwaUnanana and the Elephant

IV Far East

Japan
Great shogun and samurai exploits, folktales such as The Tongue-Cut SparrowThe Enchanted Sticks

China
Fantastic tales of empresses and peasants, warlords and courtiers. Folktales like Ah Tcha the SleeperThe Story of Wang Li

V Oceania (Australia)

The wonderful Aboriginal “dream-time” experiences and folktales such as Dinewan the Emu

Polynesia
Many fantasy tales of how their islands were fashioned; from Hawaii we get the myth: How Kana Brought Back the Sun and Moon and Stars. To quote Heaney, all of the foregoing are universal stories of “mythic potency.”

To return to the main question: What should we be looking for, and why? Tolkien said: “Myth is invention about truth.” Joseph Campbell states that the hero’s journey is about “overcoming the dark passions . . . to control the irrational savage within us,” and that “the journey is a life lived in self-discovery . . . the ultimate aim of the quest must be . . . the wisdom and the power to serve others.” The hero acts “to redeem society.” Dostoyevsky said: “Man is a mystery.” The author was “an investigator of the human spirit” always searching for truth. In Richard Tarnas’ preface to his grand The Passion of the Western Mind (and this could certainly apply to the rich and varied canon of world literature as well), he states: “The history of Western culture has long seemed to possess the dynamics, scope, and beauty of a great epic drama . . . [containing] sweep and grandeur, dramatic conflicts and astonishing resolutions . . . a stirring adventure and epic heroism . . .” He also talks about: “A common vision . . . to see clarifying universals in the chaos of life . . . the attempt to comprehend the nature of reality.” Bruno Bettelheim says that through fables and fairy tales we can find ways “to gain peace within ourselves and with the world . . .” In a new volume of Yeat’s essays, Writings on Irish Folklore, Legend and Myth he tells us that in fables, “mortals are transformed into ‘perfect symbols of the sorrow and beauty and of the magnificence and penury of dreams.'” Harold Bloom feels: “We read to find ourselves . . .[to gain] an enhanced sense of freedom . . . to prepare ourselves for change and the final change, alas is universal.”

Certainly there are skeptics among us: the poet W. H. Auden said: “poetry makes nothing happen” and Jack Kerouac’s On the Road narrator (“the road is life”) says “. . . nobody, nobody knows what’s going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old . . .” And U2’s Bono laments “. . . and I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.” To all that, Tolkien’s Gandalf could well answer: “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

During the rest of our lifequest we must: read, write, travel, attend plays, opera, museums and films, watch television and sporting events, listen to music, political debates, talk shows, gossip, and propaganda. We must sing and dance and work and love, all so that we may connect in some positive and meaningful way with our ancestors, peers, and children, thus hopefully discovering our higher selves. By doing so, when our grand quest comes to the inevitable and unavoidable end, we will be able to leave behind a brilliant, universal ensemble cast with a balanced and harmonious script full of recurring motifs such as unity and integration, a magnificent work, a gift of love and peace to our vast audience—all of humankind’s descendants.

“The world is sacred,
It can’t be improved.
If you tamper with it, you’ll ruin it.
If your treat it like an object, you’ll lose it.”—Lao-tzu

Bibliography

Barzun, Jacques. From Dawn to Decadence. New York: HarperCollins, 2000.
Bettelheim, Bruno. The Uses of Enchantment. New York: Simon, 2000.
Bloom, Harold. How to Read and Why. New York: Simon, 2000.
Campbell, Joseph. The Power of Myth. New York: Doubleday, 1988.
Chamber, Aidan. Introducing Books to Children. 2nd ed. Horn, 1983.
Doyle, Roddy. A Star Called Henry. New York: Penguin, 2000.
Heaney, Seamus. Beowulf. New York: Norton, 2000.
Kerouac, Jack. On the Road. New York: Viking, 1957.
Lao-tzu. Tao Te Ching. Trans. Stephen Mitchell. New York: Harper, 1988.
Maxym, Lucy. Russian Lacquer, Legends and Fairy Tales. 2 vols. New York: Siamese Imports, 1985-86.
Norton Anthology of English Literature. Ed. M.H. Abrams. 5th ed. 2 vols. New York: Norton, 1986.
Oxford Companion to the English Language. Ed. Tom McArthur. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1992.
Porcaro, Lauren. “Book Currents”: rev. of Writings on Irish Folklore, Legend and Myth by William Butler Yeats, New Yorker 1, Apr. 2002: 21.
Riverside Anthology of Children’s Literature. Judith Saltman. 6th ed. Boston: Houghton, 1985.
Rowse, A.L. The Annotated Shakespeare. Vols I and II. New York: Clarkson, 1978.
Rushdie, Salman. Haroun and the Sea of Stories. New York: Viking, 1990.
Tarnas, Richard. The Passion of the Western Mind. New York: Ballantine, 1993.
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Hobbit. New York: Ballantine, 1967.
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Ring Trilogy. New York: Ballantine, 1982.

The Butcher Boy

by KEM Huntley

In a Dramatica grand argument story, it is the influence character that has the most impact on the main character. The influence character, wittingly or unwittingly, will compel the main character to remain steadfast to their particular paradigm or change to the influence character’s point of view.

Typically, the influence character is one person or single entity. In the case of Neil Jordan’s The Butcher Boy, and Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange, the influence character is the society in which the main character functions.

The Butcher Boy, an adaptation of Pat McCabe’s novel, is a brutal account of one boy’s moral destruction set against the “duck and cover” environment of fear that emanated from communism, specifically the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis. Precocious and full of Gaelic charm, “The Incredible Francis Brady” (main character) is an ebullient twelve-year-old with a wide Irish eyes smile and an unfortunate set of parents-a beautiful and suicidal mother, and a father who ” . . . was the best drinker in the town.” Francie sets up the story with a voice-over narration: “When I was a young lad . . . I lived in a small town where they were all after me on account of what I’d done [to] Mrs. Nugent.”

What follows is a cinematic treatise on the making of a psychopath.

Francis steals apples from Mrs. Nugent’s tree and extorts Green Lantern comics from her bespectacled son, Philip. Mrs. Nugent tells his mother exactly what she thinks of the Bradys: “Pigs!” igniting a feud (story driver-action) between the boy and neighbor that erupts in unholy carnage. During the course of the story, Francie’s pranks evolve from the malicious to the unconscionably vicious. He is sent to a reform school where he easily manipulates his release, a mental institution where he escapes, and even fools his parish priest who exhorts the townspeople to ” . . . pray for the redemption of Francis Brady . . .” Each personal tragedy, most notably the death of his mother and perceived betrayal of best friend Joe Purcell, exacerbates the sins he commits against Mrs. Nugent and the small community. Finally, the town’s authorities ” . . . put Francie Brady in the ‘garage’ for bad bastards.” (ic resolve-change)

Like anti-hero Alex in A Clockwork Orange, none of Francie’s actions are excusable, but there is a margin for understanding. In one of the film’s most poignant moments, Francie lists his losses on the steamed up kitchen window with his finger-unaware his abandoned soul is the most tragic loss of all.

Haiku Play Review: The Rage Fairy

The Sherry’s the Stage.
Antonia’s Zings Rage.
Murderinos, Sage!

Artwork by Freda Yifan Jing @frida_dearling

Nothing can stop the Rage Fairy from finding love, including the knowledge that her dream man is a literal murderer. All it takes is a little reality-bending. A manic fairy with a chaotic attachment style goes looking for love in all the wrong places–including in the arms of a [aforementioned] murderer. Subsequently, she is haunted by a cadre of murdered girls, even as she tries to maintain the illusion all is well with her dream man.
Written and Directed by Antonia Czinger.
Produced by David Dickens.

Artwork by Freda Yifan Jing @frida_dearling

Sundance 2022: We Need To Talk About Cosby, And I Don’t Want To.

by Coco Quinn

Artwork by Mary Quinn

This morning I woke up to a snowy view of my backyard, the Virginia weather still doing its best to make me feel like I’m writing from Park City. There’s a lake I look out on, and when I felt a sensation something was off, I realized it must have iced over.  Looking further out, I could see ripples in the distance where the surface wasn’t frozen of motion.

I made a cup of coffee, and settled in under some blankets on my couch, ready to watch my first Sundance premier. I’m glad it was sunny outside because it was about to get dark.

We Need To Talk About Cosby, and I don’t want to, because it’s uncomfortable. But we really do need to talk about these things. I think women should watch this movie with other women. Like we did with the Sex and the City movie. With cosmos or whichever cocktail pairs best with catharsis, and talk through what comes up.

Director W. Kamau Bell implores us that we can’t begin to heal without first having some hard conversations. He explores who Cosby was, from the groundbreaking to the terrifying, and what his achievements and actions say about America over the past 50 years. He challenges us to reexamine the culture that lifted Cosby to the level of “America’s Dad.” 

This four-hour-long documentary (in four parts) is airing on Showtime and I recommend it, but it brought up a lot for me. One of the interviewees in the film talks about how sometimes something is put in your drink, but sometimes it’s the drink itself that can cause a blackout. And you might never know which it was, but it doesn’t matter. The intent to incapacitate you is the same regardless of the substance.

I have a night I can’t remember all of what happened, and I’ve always wondered if I was just over-served or drugged by the waiter. He sent over an extra martini or two, on the house. He got my number by taking a picture of me with my friends and texting it to me. He would call and text me for months. I never answered nor responded, and it always scared me. It didn’t stop until I reported it. The brief clips saved as memories are clear, and the blank spaces, they’re still black.

I started just now to write I was okay, but is that really true? I ended up in the hospital. The feeling you get knowing you have gaps in your memory, but were walking and talking (about what and to whom exactly, you don’t know), can be panic inducing. And embarrassing. It’s been years and those feelings still flare up.

I don’t know many women who haven’t had a similar experience. I wish that were not the case. It’s hard to talk about, so usually we don’t. I know that I’m the only person that some friends have told about the moments someone intentionally erased from their memories before they’d even been made. It’s hard to hear it talked about in this film without feeling like that could have been me, or someone I love. That it could have been anyone. That it happened to way too many women. I’m so proud of them for speaking out. It isn’t easy.

When to speak out, or if you should, is hard to say. Especially if that person has cache. Makes you feel special. They impress your friends and family, like Cosby did with these women. When is the behavior bad enough to speak out? What about a famous man you thought was your friend for years and years and then you hear about something really creepy? What are you supposed to do? The easiest answer is fucking mind your own business. But look how that went with Cosby. Scores of people around him looked the other way.

What if you know of a famous man whom you’ve always considered to be one of the good guys, and then you find out he casually asked for revealing photos from a woman you love. And it freaks her out. And then when he next makes contact, she tells him, “What you said really upset me.” And then he goes on and on in a text about how he jokes about stuff like that with his comedian friends and he’s an idiot and was just trying to make a joke. But he’s a professional comedian. And the request wasn’t a joke. And it wasn’t funny. And this excuse rings hollow and weird, and your friend is scrolling back through years of texts wondering if she’d ever said anything to give him the wrong idea, and she hasn’t. And so, she scrolls through her Instagram and Facebook to see if any of her selfies were too provocative. And she’s trying to find where she was responsible for the strange behavior of this friend, and supposed ally.

And she’s feeling bad about herself and fixating on it for days. And the years of friendship feel like grooming because now this guy is acting like a predator. And did she just see behind the curtain? Is he doing this to other women? Girls? Are they sending him pics? What happens next to them if they do? What is his end game?

We Need To Talk About What To Do. Because I really don’t know. My first thought was she should call his wife, that maybe she could talk to her husband about how when someone does something like that to call out your body, especially if you’re a busty girl, that it makes you feel reduced to nothing but your physical appearance. That it makes you question your worth. Your perceived worth. That it shakes your sense of knowing who to trust, if someone you trusted and respected could make you feel so bad.

And now she starts to cry because she feels like she’s ruined him for you. Ruined her best friend’s favorite movie for her because he’s in it. Ruined the kind recommendation letter he once wrote for you, which you have framed on your desk to remind you he believes in you. And you look her in the eyes, and it’s like looking out at the lake this morning. You’re not seeing any ripples. Something is off, someone has frozen a part of her that usually sparkles.

So, you tear up the letter and tell her she didn’t ruin him for you, he did. And now your stomach goes queasy when he pops up on TV. Why is he on so much TV? And it’s not the worst behavior, but it’s not good, and the fact that it is subtle is such a fucking scary part of it, ‘cause it’s easy to blow off for him, but that’s the point if he doesn’t get what he wants, right? And the uneasiness and resentment aren’t going away. And you want to tell him how damaging it is, because he can’t possibly know, or he wouldn’t have done it. But then . . . he did it. And not only does he know, but that’s also quite possibly what he likes about it. And you introduced them, so you feel like it’s your fault. You thought he was a nice guy and you got it wrong.

And there goes one more woman, taking on the burden of a bad man’s actions.

Sundance 2022 Begins: A Starfucker is Born!

by Coco Quinn

The short film Starfuckers starts rather ominously. Plastic on the carpeted floor . . . was someone going to be murdered? An unsettling dynamic between a younger and older man. One of them is a bad guy, right? But which one? And then She appears. A drag Goddess who performs a lip-synch truly for the Gods. Even my brother was like, “Damn.” I had to call my sister into the room so she could see this clip of the film with me, watching her take it all in as I replayed it. At the end she said, “From now on my life is divided between before I saw that performance and afterwards.”

All three of us . . . Blown away by a true “Star is Born” moment.

Antonio Marziale is the face behind this captivating character. He’s also the writer and director of Starfuckers and says of the film, “At its heart a revenge story that explores power dynamics in Hollywood, but it also celebrates the art of drag and how it can be used to create an alter ego or explore alternate realities for oneself. We wanted to tackle serious subject matter with an element of buoyancy and surprise.” Tackled head on with both strength and vulnerability. I watched it twice already and still want more. These are the magical moments that make Sundance so special.

It was hard to get excited about the festival this year. I really wanted to go back to Park City. I have attended every Sundance from 2011 until Covid hit. I wrote my letter requesting press accreditation back in October, the night after I saw my first live performance in a theater since 2019. It was The Lion King. Broadway was back, baby! I was moved to tears in the opening number, masked and vaxed and so excited to be able to be a part of an audience again. I wrote about wanting to cover Sundance because, “Theaters are opening. I’d like to see how the filmmakers feel about reentering that communal space. There’s something magical there.” I shouldn’t have worried when it went away again. Sundance always works out exactly the way it is supposed to.

So, instead of Utah, I’m in my hometown of Virginia Beach, Virginia. Instead of in the Egyptian Theater on Main Street, I’m huddled into my bed as Sundance weather comes to Virginia and snow starts to fall outside my window. I obligingly put on headphones and enter a virtual Egyptian space as an avatar of myself, a little cartoon body and flat, circular head displaying a photo of my face. (Pro tip: If you want to jump as an avatar, press the space bar.) We find seats, figure out how to sit our little bodies down, and click a box on the stage to make the screening fill our screens.         

The opening night film is 32 Sounds. There is a love story we learn about in the film. We hear moments of a phone call shared between these two women who will go on to have a ’til death do they part 47-year-long relationship, in the early days of their falling in love on the phone, long-distance. The giggles they share are charming and animated sound waves cross the screen, representing their voices reaching out to each other. It’s a tender moment. At the virtual hang after the screening, I meet some filmmakers and we wonder what we would sound like recorded in these virtual hangout groups. As with the nervous, new lovers, there are lots of giggles as we chart new territory in making friends.  

Sophia de Baun, Executive Producer of ChiQui, and I met and chatted in a bubble. She was in her bedroom in New York as the rest of her team were in another part of her apartment. They’d all tried to talk together as one avatar, but it was a bit much. “I’m wearing the turtleneck I bought for Sundance, even though I’m just in my apartment,” she told me. I loved that. We’re all committed to getting the closest-to-normal Sundance experience we can. And even though my camera works, so people can see me snuggled up from my fluffy white chair in the corner of my room with a scrunchie holding my hair in a pile on my head and no makeup on, there is a glitch and I can’t see the videos of anyone else. It doesn’t matter. The conversation in the bubble is lively and we’ve all been moved by the film we’d just seen, together, though far apart.

I watched 20 other films on Day 1. Most of them were shorts. Like Starfuckers, CLOSE TIES TO HOME COUNTRY was Written and Directed by its young star, Akanksha Cruczynski. Based on her real life. Oh my god. Akanksha hasn’t seen her sister in nine years. In trying to fill out a form to Homeland Security on her sister’s Moral Character she writes, “My sister is a badass.”  I’d fill one out for my sister verbatim. I loved her face, her sense of humor, her deep vulnerability. This film about people trying to go to and from India really took me on a journey. #RIPBisou

You never know who you’re going to meet when you pop into a bubble in the virtual Film Party of Sundance. I was testing out my video capabilities on a different computer, and entered a bubble with three guys who turned out to be directors of short films at the festival. Joey Izzo is premiering YOU’VE NEVER BEEN COMPLETELY HONEST. William David Caballero’s CHILLY AND MILLY is an animated autobiographical documentary. One of them said the third guy, Harris Doran, had the movie with the best name of the Fest. “What’s it called?” I asked.

F^¢K ’€M R!GHT B@¢K. It is a great name! And a great film! I’d seen it and got to gush over how much I loved his lead character, a queer Black aspiring Baltimore rapper played by DDm (Dapper Dan midas) who must outwit his vengeful day-job boss in order to avoid getting fired after accidentally eating an edible. DDm wins for best nails and dimples at Sundance, manicured hands down. He’s a real rapper who had never before acted, but Harris says he wants to do more now and I’m in favor of that decision. He gave a fantastically fun performance, and Kara Young as his coworker sidekick is who I’d want by my side.

A special section of shorts from years past were brought back in celebration of Sundance’s 40th Anniversary. One I was dying to see was the short film, Short Term 12. I was at the Premier of the feature length version in 2013 at South by Southwest, starring a young cast that would go on to win multiple Oscars among them. The only actor to be in both the short and the feature… and go on to an Oscar nomination of his own… was LaKeith Stanfield. In the short he’s only about 16-years-old and already a powerhouse talent.

Now, some shorts could really stand to be shorter, and my brother had watched a couple slower-paced ones in a row with me, so I was stoked to see SPIDER (2008) by Nash Edgerton was on the Anniversary Shorts list. I first saw it at Sundance, but not the year it premiered. One of my fellow critics couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it and showed it to me on their laptop between writing reviews from the kitchen of their shared lodge. Hadn’t seen it in a decade, but it held up. Nash plays Jack, a guy who causes all kinds of trouble when he tries to scare his girlfriend with a rubber spider. A sequel, BEAR, premiered at Cannes in 2011. Now, 11 years later, he’s rounded out the trilogy of short films with SHARK, where his new girlfriend is played by Rose Byrne. They’re silly, but make me laugh out loud.

I was walking back from yoga one day with a cup of tea, checking something on my phone when some kid threw a plastic snake on me, and then was like, “Oh, shit, look out!” and my brain just processed SNAKE and my hot tea spilled all over me as I dropped it and my phone, fell back onto the curb, bruising my tailbone. There was a group of young guys filming their antics on a cell phone. Not cool.

So when the first Indie Episodic I watched, CULTURE BEAT, took place a couple blocks away from where I went down across the street from my yoga studio, I just thought, “Dude. that’s my neighborhood.” This guy is acting deranged and volatile with a camera recording from across the street. This prankster is riding a recumbent bike into sidewalk diners and messing with traffic on a Segway, going in circles while dropping a laptop into the road. Fuck this guy. I lived in England when Ali G was a correspondent on The 11 O’Clock Show. I loved Ali G. It’s about punching up, right? Not fucking with people’s drives and dinners. It’s Hollywood. There are constantly folks doing way more crazy shit there. No need. Not. Cool. Go home.

On a lighthearted and upbeat note of people from my neighborhood, TRAINING WHEELS features a socially inept woman who rents a man to prepare to date another. Written, Directed by, and staring Alison Rich, a regular performer at the UCB Theater in Hollywood. When I first saw Alison perform, I was pulled on stage from the audience to participate in this hodgepodge comedy show, and she was in character as an old man with short gray wig on. The bit she improvised was that in everything he said, he found a way to hit on me. It was funny as fuck and even though it was fake, I was flattered. She’s a tiny, pretty girl who will get ugly for a laugh, and who you can’t help but be charmed by. Cameos by other hilarious UCB cuties, like Zeke Nicholson and Drew Tarver.

Rounding out the rest of my 21 films in one day of Sundancing we have:

RECKLESS, from Sweden, sucked me right into this world, visually, with special effects and a woman singing an eerie cover of a Strokes song. Haven’t seen a liquid this menacing since blood pouring forth from the elevators in The Shining.

PRECIOUS HAIR & BEAUTY A warm and inviting atmosphere of a beauty shop in the UK. Rich, delicious accents with sadly no subtitles to catch all the dialogue, which sucks, cause I liked these ladies. Divine little comedy.

LONG LINE OF LADIES Celebrates a young girl’s journey into womanhood by her whole community. The tradition was gone for decades because of sexual assault that accompanied the Gold Rush. It’s back. Amazing to watch the women lift each other up and the fathers support their daughters.

PRIMAVERA (an anniversary short) and THE RIGHT WORDS are foreign language films that deal with the complicated sibling dynamics of young teens. Made me think about how growing up is never easy, but I’m so glad there was no social media when I rode the bus.

CHIQUI Short for the lead character Chiquita, is an indie episodic pilot episode set in the late 80’s with all the MTV influenced hair, makeup, music and clothing you could ask for. It’s 1987. Pregnant Chiqui and her husband emigrate from Colombia to the U.S. to find a better life.

STRANGER THAN ROTTERDAM WITH SARA DRIVER The Rolling Stones were the second band I ever saw in concert, but I didn’t know anything about Cocksucker Blues. Then again, I was only 11. Fun little caper of a true story.

RENDANG OF DEATH Gross-out comedy with some real WTF moments.

YOU GO GIRL! In stand-up comedy as in life, it’s a real uphill battle.

BUMP. Stupid. Like in the way my Improv coach would say, “Stupid,” when we made him laugh. And just 3 mins long. Tops.

DADDY’S GIRL Girl. You are a mess.

Home is Where the Hurricane Is

by Coco Quinn

Artwork by Claire Binci. Claire currently is an engineer for Lamborghini.

The first thing I remember getting published was a poem I wrote in fifth grade for my elementary school’s anthology, “Tales from the Foot of the Volcano.” It was 1991 and I was living in Naples, Italy. I could see Mt. Vesuvius from my balcony, looking like two mountains next to each other as the crater into the active volcano was so wide and deep. When we hiked up to peer into that crater on a field trip our Italian teacher left the path dotted with holes from her high heels. I pictured her fashionable feet permanently arched like Barbie’s. I remember those tiny holes in the dirt along the path, but nothing of what we could see at its peak.

“Vesuvius is overdue to erupt,” I remember hearing. It had been dormant for many decades at that point. Any day now, and I could be frozen in ash like the people who’d been victim to it in Herculaneum, which had been another field trip destination.

It’s funny when you move a lot growing up. You’re subject to such a wide variety of impending natural disasters. Before Italy, I’d lived in Virginia Beach and Key West on the east coast. I had ten years under my belt of dealing with hurricanes. Fill the bathtubs with water, tape Xes over each window, and for a really big one, camp downstairs in the living room. In 1986, we got Hurricane Charley. I was seven with two little brothers and a baby sister. My dad was still out on a six-month cruise with the Navy. Charley knocked out the power. Mom set up a camping stove and battery powered black and white TV with a 5 inch screen. “The Peanut Butter Solution” aired during that time, and that movie was way more traumatic than the hurricane was. The day after the storm passed, we walked down the cul-de-sac, the sky fresh and blue, the air calm and lovely, just the pavement covered in leaves and branches, and the occasional car or rooftop dented in, to indicate how rough it had been out there.

Another thing about hurricanes, they give you a couple days warning. Not volcanoes, not tornados. I was home babysitting my sister in Mississippi (a truly culture-shock-inducing place to send a preteen girl after three years living in Italy), when I heard my first tornado. It sounds like a train. I hid us away in the tiny bathroom off of the kitchen, the only room in the house without windows, and felt like a sitting duck. The locals weren’t so bothered. My mom came home with my brothers from soccer practice, and even though the electric charge in the air had made my brother Jon’s hair stand on end, and the wind made accuracy in shooting impossible, their coach kept them on that field until practice time ended.

I spent twelve years in LA, and the earthquakes never made me panic. The wildfires though . . .

I’m in Virginia Beach now, and went into the ocean again for the first time in fifteen years. There were red flags up for “danger,” on the lifeguard stands. The water was frothy with riptides 50 feet out along the shore. The wind made it almost impossible to lay out a towel and I had to anchor mine with all my belongings, which were immediately covered in sand. Hurricane Ida hadn’t hit us directly, but I could feel her on the shore.

Even in the shallows, the waves crashed so hard I was soaked from head to toe right away. The usually even and sloping sand was impossible to see under the water and so pocked with holes that I sank under water from my knees up to my shoulders with a single step. I duck-dived under a wave. I floated and let the stormy waters push and pull me to and from the shore.

I laughed out loud as the tide bounced my butt into the sandy bottom as I tried to make my way back to the beach. I kept an eye on my coordinates by the lifeguard stand near where I’d left my towel. One of the very stands I’d worked from in summers during college. I didn’t know the guards who were working there today, nor they, me. But . . .

The Atlantic, she held me, rocked me, welcomed me home.