Una Muses

Seasoned

Unaspenser — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 04:54:30 GMT

Tonight was the premier of Season 2 of True Blood on HBO. Before I get into my thoughts about the episode, let me just say that I had a moment of facing just how simple my life has become. I sat in front of the tv about 2 minutes before the scheduled start time - wanting to be there to make sure that Tivo captured it, of course! - and realized that I had a shit-eating grin plastered on my face from ear to ear. There was no else around, mind you, I was simply that happy in my anticipation.

Well, anyway, I wasn't disappointed.

There were a lot of bits and piece to chew on and I'll need to watch it again to get a sense of the things I want to focus on for our discussions here. Who or what is that woman who has Tara in her thrall? Were those highlighting foils in Eric's hair?! Is Bill still withholding something from Sookie? So many thrills and escapades to wend our way through.

For tonight, though, I was struck by how different it is to be watching a second season rather than a first. Remember last year when we waited for several episodes to see if Sookie, a human, could actually be safe acting upon her attraction to Bill, a vampire? No matter how compelling he seemed, we held in reserve that anxiety of "but he's a vampire, you can't really trust him, can you?" And now, most of that anxiety has been shoved aside and, instead, we're worried that they won't make it as a couple. (Okay, I'm not sure we can ever fully put aside the niggling voice that says, "Hey, he's a vampire. Something has to go wrong somewhere down the line, right?" but we've definitely shifted.)

While so many things are buzzing around my head, there is one scene that is prominently plastered on my consciousness: the love scene in which Sookie so comfortably offers her neck to Bill. He gives her a little love bite - we really can't call it a nip when it's approached so voraciously, can we? First, we're in Season 2 and him biting her is no longer shocking. Still unsettling, perphaps, but not shocking. We've shifted out of our plane of reality and into the True Blood universe, letting our imaginations just go with it. We're seasoned with True Blood spice already.

Still, Alan Ball et al, never let us get too comfortable. They're masterful at the shock factor. Pushing things farther and farther along. So, this time, we don't just see Bill bite Sookie - taking communion - we then see him move up and kiss her while he still has blood in his mouth. The blood drips into her mouth and down onto the sheets. She doesn't flinch at this, so it's seem as though they've been there before. (I'm not sure when, since Season 2 picks up in the same moment Season 1 left off.) Still, we haven't seen this and I was definitely squeamish about it. I recoiled, reminding myself that it's fake.

So, in our exploration of the use of the vampire metaphor in Anglo-Saxon culture, what is this about? I don't have any concrete thoughts, yet. There is a scene earlier where Sookie is talking to her brother, Jason. He says to her that when you love someone, you have to love the bad parts of them, too. Otherwise it's not love. He's not aware of what Sookie is coming to terms with regarding Bill. She's just learned that he was forced to turn a human into a vampire as a punishment for taking a vampire life while protecting her. She's also just learned that he murdered her Great-Uncle after she confided in him about the fact that this man had sexually molested her as a child. These aren't exactly your ordinary "bad" sides that one has to figure out how to love.

Of course, nothing about True Blood is ordinary. We have vampires, shapeshifters, a telepath and who knows what else. The action is taking place is the no-longer sleepy backwater of Northern Louisiana with all the attendant fake accents and kitsch. From the opening credits, to deceptive trailers (have we learned, yet, that whatever you think you see in the upcoming scenes is not likely what you expect?) to the hard-hitting sensational closing scenes, True Blood is intended to send the dial on your inner compass spinning around searching for True North. You have to put all your norms aside and find out the correlating compass points within the magnetic poles of this other universe.

Alrighty then. My compass is spinning. I'm going to take a little time to see if it can point to anything in the next day or two. Meanwhile, I'll be looking forward to the next episode to see what happens with Lafayette in that basement, Tara at that shrine to Pan, Jason at Bibile camp and so much more. Spinning or not, I'm drawn to the magnetic pull.

Meta-Vampire

Unaspenser — Sat, 04 Apr 2009 10:57:07 GMT

I've been reading a lot of vampire books lately as part of my research for these writings. (and, now I want a Kindle with all it's neat little features like bookmarking and notetaking. But I diverge....) It's hard to know whether these books are going to be to my liking or not before diving in. I'm intruigued with our fascnination for these characters, but that doesn't mean I'm going to like a story simply because it has a vampire in it. In fact, it may be that the majority of the books are simpy boring to me.

What has happened, though, in reading so many of the books and thinking about why I like some and why I don't like others is that I've realized there are genres of vampire stories. Not to be confused with the realization that there now seem to be vampire stories in almost every genre of book. That is, we now have the detective novel with vampire, the romance novel with vampires, and, of course, the erotica vampires, the action drama with vampires, etc. (I'm sure there will be a self-help book out featuring vampires any time now!)

Beyond these genres of literature, there is the meta-genres of vampire tales. Have you noticed? In "They Thirst" we have the vampire horror story where all vampires are pure evil and they exist for no other reason but to prey on humans. In fact, in this one, the vampires have finally gotten their act together and are on the verge of ridding the planet of the human race. But of course, those plucky humans with all their ingenuity and spirit, no matter how close to the apocalypse they come, muster the resources to triumph. In these stories, there is a lot of action - usually full of gratuitous blood and gore - and one or more magnificent heroes to lead us to the promised land.

Call me erudite, but "yawn." So predictable. So simplistic. These are the books that put me to sleep within paragraphs. I've never been the "rah, rah, kill the enemy" type and these vampires aren't going to turn me.

There's a genre where humans are a negligible part of the story. All vampire stories are fantasy, but these tend to be ultra-fantasy where humans either don't exist at all or they're minor props because, well, vampires do have to eat. The "Underworld" films are like this. A universe of lychens (werewolves) versus vampires. I think we see some humans as victims in the first film, and maybe as props in some scenes in the second film, but by the third it seemed they just couldn't see the point of bothering with a human presence.

Whether I find these stories interesting or not depends on what genre of fantasy film they are. If it's just the action, well then, we're back to the former comments. If they're more of an archetypal allegory, it depends on how well it's done. Because once we remove the humans from the story, it's actually just another human story. That is, the fact that all the characters are fantastic neutralizes the symbolism of their fantasma and puts all the characters on the same level, so it might as well just be a story about humans.

Next we have one I find intriquing, though necessarily of higher quality. These are the stories where all the humans are so bad, that the vampire characters are actually the admirable, desirable people. I recently finished "Hotel Transylvania", the first book in the Saint-Germain series. In it, the female protagonist is a young woman visiting her aunt in 1740s Paris. Her aunt has been tasked with keeping her away from the unsavory enemy of the girl's father. Which she does. However, it turns out that none of the humans in all of the society around the aunt are savory. They're all satanic sadists. So, of course, the safest, purest of heart, and most valiant man of all happens to be a vampire. I think the author needs to broaden her social experience and find some nice people. We're not all evil. So, I found this little hard to swallow. My willing suspension of disbelief lost it's will and came crashing down looking for a warm smile to bask in.

So, which stories *do* I like? It probably won't surprise you to learn that I prefer the genre where the simplistic lines of good vs. evil are rubbed over with a smudge stick. I mean, where's the fresh insigh to be gained from "humans good, vampires bad." How are we supposed to consider grappling with our dark side if we're told all humans are evil, so give it up and hope you can become something else. No, I prefer the more complex construct where you have to be willing to dig beyond the veneer to see the subtle to high-contrast shadings of dark and light in each character. I guess you call it the "don't judge a book by its cover" genre. Though, it's more than that which I seek. I seek stories of seeking. These are the stories that are mining for diamonds of truth with a magnifiying glass, recognizing all the while that I might see one facet of the diamond with my magnifier while you're seeing another with yours. In these stories, the vampire is a facet of the human truth. Not some separate evil enemy.

This is what make True Blood so compelling. Those vampires aren't all the same. With the advent of synthetic blood, those with better natures can actually redeem themselves and let those natures shine. Meanwhile, there are humans that are despicable. Some committing acts more heinous and with less morality than any of the vampires. Now, that's life or larger than life. Here, the story is using the vampire as a symbol or something more complex than evil - the vampire is our passion. Passion ranging from unbridled to fully bit-trained.

In that genre, there is an entry that I am currently enthralled by. The series is called "The Maker's Song". The first book is "A Rush of Wings." I won't give a lot away, because you really should read them, but the author added layers to the metaphor here by introducing angels. Like any good entry in this genre, its not clear who's good and who's bad. You have to be ready for the journey of getting to know the characters and seeing what unfolds. I've found it a very satisfying journey, thus far. (I've just completed the second book.)

So, most of the novels with vampires seem to fall in these four genres. I wish someone would label them as such so that I don't waste my time with ones that are all blood and gore, or the ones where humans are irredeemable. Alas, I'll just have to wend my own way through that.

Of course, these labels wouldn't have helped in filtering Twilight. It seems to be in a genre all its own. Twilight's a Romance series. It doesn't paint all humans as bad or good. Nor does it paint all vampires with one stroke. Though, it does paint the vast majority of vampires with one stroke and it makes it seem pretty challenging to be a "good" vampire. Still, the female protagonist, who is surrounded by plenty of good humans only wants to become a vampire. There's not really any explanation for why being human isn't acceptable. She simply doesn't want to deal with the emotional pain she carries from her family background.

When we read these books we have to realize that the construct of the story tells us something about the author. Or something about the author might explain the construct of the story. In the case of Twilight, the author is Mormon. If you substitue Mormon for human and The Rest of Society for vampire, you get a sense that the author might be miserable in her Mormon environs but thinks The Rest of Society is full of frightening, exotic predators. Yet, she dreams of having the chance to meet that one exotic outside who will offer her shelter and eventually turn her. It's the only thing I can imagine that gives the Twilight construct any useful meaning. And may be why I found the first book infuriating. It was the opposite of what I love, which is the willingness to dig into the muck of the human experience and come to terms with our complex natures and continue reaching for our higher selves no matter how far to the dark side we've gone.

Bram Stoker writes the template for this when he has Lucy plead to her fianceé and the rest of the posse to destroy Dracula out of compassion, remembering that they are not kiiling an evil being, but rather releasing a good soul from an evil shell. As the godfather of the the vampire myth in modern Angle-Saxon culture, Stoker's Dracula is like a gospel. All these attempts to use the vampire as some caricaturish icon of immutable evil (or to portray the humans as that) seems blasphemy to me. Boredom is blasphemy, after all, isn't it?

The Age of the Vampire

Unaspenser — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 01:34:35 GMT

Two trails of thought are wending their ways through my brain regarding the presence of vampire stories on our culture. They are related. One has to do with the era in which the vampire becomes a strong presence in our literature and the timing of the waves of interest that have followed. That is, The Age of the Vampire, culturally speaking. The other is the chronological age at which we depict vampires. Let's start with the latter, shall we? I imagine this will be, at least, a 2-part exploration. (Of course, there are always more depths to plummet, but we'll begin here.) (And, yes, I know I didn't follow up on the question of what's eating at Bill in that first kiss scene with Sookie. Will get back to that, I promise.)

"His face was a strong - very strong - aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils; with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples, but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was fixed and rather cruel looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth; these protruded over the lips., whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality for a man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale and at the tops extremely pointed; the chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary pallor."

~Chapter 2, Dracula, Bram Stoker

Have you ever noticed that most of our vampires are young? The characters predominaly range in age from about 16-30. Even Bill Comptom (True Blood) is only 30. Sookie remarks at one point that he looks older and he tells her that "life was harder then." Giving a sense that he had lived through a lot even before becoming a vampire. Bill's seeming maturity is unusual in our vampire lore. At least currently. The original Dracula was not young. When Jonathan Harker first meets his host in Transylvania, he matter-of-factly reports that he is an old man.

Still, our vampires aren't too young. Even in the construct of an evil world of vampires, it is considered an abomination to "turn" a young child. It was a shocking aspect of the Ann Rice novel, but is rarely depicted at all. I guess even vampires have limits. While I think that the authors and creators of the character may have limits regarding cultural sensitivity, it's interesting that no matter the level of amorality assigned to their fictional vampiric societies, it's near universal that "turning" children is simply not done. As amoral creatures, ti can't be a moral dilemma for vampires. It's something else. We get a sense of that something else when we consider the other end of the spectrum.

While we don't see child vampires, neither do we see elderly vampires. (Generally speaking. There have been cases where vampires have aged - see The Hunger - but this is a rare exception.) So, the whole of vampire society is between 16 and 30, then. Children and the elderly may be preyed upon, but never "turned". Why?

The obvious answer is that the vampire represents sexuality. We don't like to think about older people being sexual. Thankfully, we're not looking to sexualize children. So, we depict all of our vampires in the sexually potent age range. Is that all there is to it? Have we really been this fixated on vampires, for so long, and in so many variations, simply because they're sexually charged? If so, it seems pathetic. I know that, in many ways, our mainstream culture has become vapid, but I still thinks there's more to why this particular metaphor is so compelling to us. One thought I have is that the sexuality is itself a symbol. A symbol of power. An ironic symbol of power.

Read Harker's description of Dracula again. Go ahead, go back up and read it. In Dracula, the vampire is old and, I don't know about you, but I'm not picturing an attractive man when I read that description. The dashing vampire is a more recent invention. Still, Dracula had a powerful impact in his day and is the foundation for nearly every vampire story written since. So, the metaphor wasn't just about sexuality. Certainly, Dracula could mesmerize his victims and lure them into an intimate act of communion. But was the story about the sex? Or was it about power?

Dracula was stronger than normal humans. Faster. He could steal a woman from under her fiancé's nose. In one scene, Dracula has bitten Mina while Jonathan sleeps in the same room. Dracula's powers makes the other men seem impotent. Interesting that we depict someone with such power as evil. Interesting that we're fixated on stories about that. Also interesting that whether or not a vampire is evil has become more ambiguous lately.

I find irony in the realization that we are fixated on these powerful characters who leave us feeling relatively powerless. It also seem ironic to see sexuality as a metaphor for power. Certainly, the energy of sexuality feels powerful. Does that mean we are powerful when we generate it? I ask because the inability to control ourselves when those sexual hormones get going is the oldest story in human history. Innumerable people have let their lives be destroyed for the sake of sex. Is that what it is to be powerful? Of course, the idea here is that the vampire has mastered the power. But if you can't go out in the daylight and you're so vulnerable to destruction if discovered where you're sleeping, it's an awfully precarious life. Also, so many of the vampire characters are lonely. Most often they have to trick people into joining them. It's an awful lot like Zeus. Funny how men are always writing these supposedly powerful characters who can't attract a woman in a straightforward way, based on their own merits.) How powerful is that?

Perhaps the fascination is about what it is to have power. What to do with power. What sacrifices must one make if one wants power. We can explore the difference of having power over versus being powerful with others. (Dracula is destroyed by a team working together.) Does absolute power corrupt absolutely? Is it innately evil to have too much power? If someone with power lives long enough is he sobered and wise with his power or on a continual projection of increased coldness and savagery? What might make the difference? Are we exploring whether to pursue power and/or how to manage it?

If it's all about power, why do vampires have to be between 16 and 30? Dracula was old. He wasn't attractive. His power derived from his knowledge and experience and his well-manored ability to be charming. Oddly, there would be a sense of security with someone who knows how to navigate the big, bad world. A woman might be compelled to him for this worldliness, not his polished biceps, gelled hair and chiseled jaw. The reader is not drawn to Dracula because we never meet him directly, so we can only guess as to what would cause Lucy and Mina to fall prey to him so willingly. Bill Compton, on the other hand, has some of these charactertistics. Okay, he's not ugly. (Though, I doubt I would look twice if I saw the actor walking down the street. I don't find him particularly physically attractive.) But he's worldly from his many years walking the Earth. He expresses more wisdom and sense than any of the human characters. His core strength is not derived from his sexuality, his sexual appeal is derived from his core strengths. Once you get to know Bill, he's profoundly attractive. (Well, except for that brooding thing. sheesh, that could get boring.) This is different from many of the vampires depicted today. And Bill is different from Dracula, because it is suggested that we consider that he is not evil.

Still, Bill possesses a different appeal from the vapidly handsome vampires in leather jackets prowling night clubs. I've seen other more complex vampire characters, as well. Selene from Underworld and Dante from the novels of The Maker's Song. Are we coming back around to Stoker's vision of the metaphor? This is where we start to cross into that other aspect of the Age of Vampires. The cultural eras in which these stories are told and how they reflect upon our perspectives of power and sexuality. We'll play with those thoughts next time around....

The Power of a Moment

Unaspenser — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 13:15:28 GMT

The dynamic in the scene where Sookie and Bill (of True Blood) first kiss triggers a lot of introspection for me. As I've watched the series, I began quite cynical about Bill. Hey, he's a vampire. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. I've got all the pre-conceptions that you're supposed to have about this dangerous character from the dark side. He's a killer and I don't trust him. Yet, scene after scene, he's demonstrating more honor and compassion than any other male character. He's wizened by time. Approximately 175 years of it. It's given him patience and understanding. When we finally learn about the end of his human life and see him watching his family for the last time, we see that he was a man of deep devotion and that he was utterly heartbroken by losing his attachment to them.

His main rival for Sookie's affection is Sam. Sam is Sookie's boss and he's held a hidden torch for her. Suffering in silence. Because, gee, who knows why? It's not until someone else comes along and gives her attention that he begins to hint of his feelings. Even then, he's indirect. Instead of declaring himself, he suggests that she read his mind. Also, he approaches her when she's weak. Instead of catching her when she's strong and in great spirits. He reaches out for her when she's in need. Seeking something for himself when the focus should be her. (In one scene, right after Sookie's is traumatized, Sam is threatening Bill as some sort of protective statement. Bill responds with something like, "We both know that right now is the time to focus on Sookie and not your need to be territorial." Bill is clearer about putting his own emotional needs aside. Sam is confused about where his needs end and Sookie's needs begin.

This drives me crazy. The Sam character is a nice guy. He's attractive enough. He owns a successful business. So, why can he only reach out to her when she's weak? I want to swat him away like an annoying fly. Bill is consistently there for Sookie when she needs it, but he waits until they are on more solid ground, connecting with each other as equals before broaching the subject of his attraction. He then directly lets her know that he's attracted to her. With no expectations. At one point in their relationship he tells her he won't call on her anymore because she doesn't want him to. As much as he wants to be with her, he would rather walk away than have a dysfunctional relationship. He wants them to meet in the middle, equally compelled, each through their own motivations. He asks before touching her hair. It so sexy when he almost falls back overwhelmed and says, "I can smell the sunshine on you" with an expression of profound loss from being reminded of the sun which he hasn't seen in nearly 150 years. But the connection to these painful feelings doesn't make him sever the connection. He kind of glides away from her with the emotion and as he reaches the edge of it he smoothly rebounds back in to reconnect. It's like a perfect expression of the Push Hands principle in Tai Chi, accepting the energy that comes into you, letting it flow and transform and sending it back out. Sookie moves in and initiates the kiss.

I'm falling for the vampire. The 'dangerous' one.

Juxtapose this to a later scene with Sam. Sam is supposed to be letting Sookie into his car. She turns when he hasn't opened the door and is pinned between him and the car. He says that she's glad he's not reading his mind. When she asks, "Why?", he says, "because then you didn't see this coming." And he swoops in to kiss her. It's not a mutual action. He's practically stealing the kiss. Or forcing one onto her. I'm completely turned off by Sam when he does this. Sam, the decent and caring human being. The "civilized" one.

Who knows where the story line will go and what we'll learn about Sookie, Bill and Sam. Whether it's my original cynicism or my new-found appreciation for Bill which is ultimately affirmed. It's how I experience these juxtapositons that is telling. This is why we like stories. We learn about ourselves.

In the differences between these scenarios lies one of the pieces of humanity we explore with the symbolism of vampires. We are an onmnivorous species. Some of us may have decided to be vegetarians, but as a species, we're predators. Yet, we're also social. More complex socially than most predators. Our attempts at civilizing ourselves seem to be about keeping our predatory nature under control so that we can all benefit from a social living structure. There is a tension between the completely ego-centric, passionate-driven predator in us and the more expansive, reasoned social creature. Leaning too far in either direction isn't fulfilling or sustainable.

Vampires don't symbolically equal death or life any more than humans do. They each represent a potential extreme on a continuum and the most compelling characters, the ones we're seeking in ourselves are the ones that are walking in that middle ground with some semblance of each. We're fine-tuning our sense of a balanced life. It's not that vampires equal life. It may be that Bill equals life. Or a man finding is way to life. He's wended his way through a very long journey. He isn't perfection, but he seems to be recovering from the wounds of life with a deep core strength. While Sam is still too wounded and lost, he seems more like someone who's soul is struggling to regain it's footing. Ironically, our un-dead character seems more vibrant than our living character.

Perhaps I'm drawn to the irony, enthralled by Bill, because I'm longing for that deep core strength to be what encompasses my life. Not to hide the wounds and vulnerabilities, but to give them the peace that they need for healing that only comes from feeling safe. Back in that scene of the first kiss, what I see in Bill's character is a certain kind of power. The power to be in the moment. To let the moment be as enormous or as inconsequential as it is without trying to make it something else. You see it as he, who has the power and agility to move faster than any human, let's the moment unfold slowly. He savors both the anticipation and the melancholy. The now and the memories that the now evokes. It's his capacity to use his power to let the whole truth of the moment be experienced that I find him irresistable. These are the times when most of us buckle under discomfort and create evasions. Yes, he's a larger than life action hero that can save the damsel in distress from mortal danger. More than that, for me, though, he's the protector of being in the moment, letting whatever truth is in the moment be experienced. That's a different kind of hero, of which we see so little. Bill seems to be a rare specimen of fearlessnes when it comes to intimacy.

Well, until the passion of the moment brings out his fangs. So, maybe he's not perfectly enlightened, after all. He does have something that pulls him out of the moment. The True Blood writers are good at making sure we don't wander too far off into LaLaLand before giving us a reality check about what Bill is. (well, as much of a reality check as you can have in a fantasy story, anyway.) They're such buzz-kills.

So, what was that expression on his face as he turned away from Sookie? Fear? Shame? Was he hoping to keep his dangerous side hidden from her? Is he worried he'll hurt her? Or that she'll reject him? What's eating at his power base? Let's talk about that next time....

So, Vampires Equal Life?

Unaspenser — Thu, 05 Feb 2009 12:15:40 GMT

When last we spoke, I suggested that our True Blood protagonist, Sookie, was experiencing a kind of re-birth by being with Bill, our lead vampire. I claimed that the creation of a vampiric world was to help us stop fearing death and learn to embrace life. So, was I saying that vampires equal life? That throwing off all our inhibitions, diving into our passions, regardless of how violent they are, how uncivil they are, is what life is really about?

Well, no. Not exactly. But it's not sheer coincidence that we Anglo-Saxons became enthralled with vampire stories during the Victorian era. The age of proscribed conversations, buttoned up collars and pent up emotions. It was like a full swing of the pendulum from the barbaric Medieval Era. The British had taken the concept of being civil so far that they seemed to live on auto-pilot, so out of touch with their own passions that they lost compassion. It was the height of the British colonial era. The savagery with which entire cultures were invaded and oppressed in the name of civilization was intense. (It was chilling for me to visit The British Museum of London in the 1980s. A vast collection of artifacts from ancient cultures. Cultures the British had invaded and plundered.)

Yes, I said savagery. That's the point, isn't it? The human experience isn't meant to be so devoid of emotional and physical passion that we're afraid to process our experiences, follow our dreams, or reach out to each other. We aren't supposed to shut off our guts and hearts and become purely intellectual. Sometimes all the trappings of civilization become nothing more than an invisible prison where our fellow citizens are savage guards with their stultifying judgments. We live in fear of being marginalized or cast out. It's savage in it's destruction of the human spirit.

Of course, a vampiric society where, even if there are rules, there is so little regard for the life of another that you live in constant fear, is not desirable either. It's another prison where the guards are the physically strong. We live in fear of being killed. Again resulting in a savage destruction of the human spirit.

I'm not sure that either world is more or less violent. As Vampire Bill tells Sookie during an argument, "Humans have killed millions upon millions of other humans in senseless wars...." The stories that include vampires killing at the tremendous rate of real life humans are quite rare. While, they are individually violent, perhaps in small packs, they are not usually massively organized like our armies. They don't engage in such calculated mass murder.

So, what are we looking at with our vampire stories? I would say that we're asking ourselves, "What's the right balance?" For Bram Stoker, the balance was about science versus spirituality. He very carefully constructs the investigation into who and what is Dracula. It is made very clear that science alone will not suffice. Neither would religious beliefs. They must be used together to save Mina.

In our contemporary tales of Buffy (you know, the Vampire Slayer) and Sookie, both female protagonists who fall in love with male vampires, it's about the balance of feral and civil. What is it about Angel and Bill that make them more compelling than the many human men who are interested and available?

In True Blood, I find the scene of Sookie and Bill's first kiss to be very evocative. They are taking a walk and talking. Sookie has offered to help Bill find contractors that will come at night to discuss working on his house. He, through a softening of facial expression and body language, appears touched by her generosity of spirit. He's struggling to 'mainstream' and worries about being accepted by humans. He is moved by this simple, normalizing, neighborly act.

He looks at her and says, "Remove the clip." He's referring to the clip holding her hair. It's not a question. He doesn't ask, "will you remove the clip?" and yet it's not a demand. The intonation suggests, "I would like you to remove the clip if you would like to."

Sookie proceeds to let her hair down. He slowly moves towards her and asks, "May I?" There is not a step along the way where he proceeds without her permission. He never moves in quickly. It is clear that he never would. This man has so much power. He's not afraid of that power. He doesn't hide his power. He walks with his shoulders bearing forward like a predator cat. He's direct with everybody and stands tall in any confrontation, even with vampires stronger than him. He exudes power and he has blood lust. He should be frightening. Yet, Sookie is not afraid. Why?

Bill has always demonstrated respect and control. He's the master of his power. His fears don't control it. By fully occupying his own space, he doesn't have to seek any of his identity through her. So, her telepathic ability, a symbol of the extraordinary power we each have in some way, doesn't have to be hidden or seen as a threat. Her incomparable power doesn't make him "less than". He's beyond the realm of comparing. His self-possession only requires that she be equally self-possessed.

I can watch this scene over and over because both actors exhibit rich nuance. With very few words there are novels told about the characters. Of course, the plot lines are all in the eyes of the beholder. More on this beholder's perspective tomorrow....

Vampires Equal Death?

Unaspenser — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 12:18:44 GMT

A commentor, PNN member cereals, in a previous post wanted to know what I thought of a recent scene in True Blood. The symbolism of the scene was different for her than it was for me. As I stated in my reply, one of the fascinating aspects of this is that these impressions can be like Rorschach Tests. Particularly because we're dealing in fantasy, there is no right or wrong. I'll write about my take on the symbolism of the scene, but wholeheartedly suggest that you see how it strikes you for yourself. Please feel free to suggest different interpretations in the comments.

Sookie has lost her grandmother and now, it seems, Bill. The loss and shock are overwhelming. There had been an incident at the bar the night before and Sookie knew that men were out to destroy the vampire group that Bill was to spend the evening with. (A choice he made to get the vamps away from the people they were threatening.) She tries all evening to call and warn Bill. However, that morning, the house occupied by the vampires is found burnt to the ground. The crew on the scene pull out four coffins and discover the gooey, cringe-worthy remains inside. Four coffins. Three for the new vamps on the scene and one for Bill? Sookie is devastated as she realizes that Bill is dead, well, um, gone.

In her grief Sookie heads out to the cemetary that night and encounters the headstone that was put there when Bill's human family memorialized their loss of him during the Civil War. This is a quiet scene. No one else is around and Sookie is left with immense feelings to process on her own. In the silence, she begins walking home when suddenly a hand explodes out of the earth and grabs her ankle. She screams and struggles to get away, but the grip is too strong. An entire, dirt-covered body is rising from the ground and Sookie is fighting for her life. Until we hear Bill's voice say, "Sookie..."

We learn that Bill did get her messages. He slept in the ground because it was the safest place to be. Not the most comfortable, but the safest. So, here is this naked man covered from head to toe in dirt, twigs and leaf matter. Still, the emotions are high and frantic love-making ensues.

What is this startling imagery of him emerging from the earth? For cereals, it was like a coffin. I can see that. It is like death jumping out and grabbing her to bring her down. Certainly, her life has been filled with death. Her parents died when she was young and now there have been several deaths around her. She gets involved with a "dead" person and he ends up "dying" on her, too.

Vampires are an imagery created for us to fear. The first stories of vampires were offered to us from religious leaders. If we committed their version of sins, we would live in the state of death eternally. Our souls would not move on to eternal life. Yet, death is also part of the cycle of life. The life here on earth. We are all part of the physical matter that comprises the entire eco-system of Earth. Beings live for a while, then their bodies are returned to the earth and the matter breaks down and is re-integrated into a new life form.

I saw Bill's emergence as a symbolic birth. Vampires represent our feral selves and they have feral births rising up out of the earth. They are everything that we have tried to keep under wraps in order to be "civilized" and to earn our soul's way into an ethereal non-earthly afterlife. All of this is a construct that we have created with our minds. We think therefore we imagine. We imagine a lot of esoteric stuff that really has nothing to do with surviving as a biological unit and experiencing the sensuality that is life. Vampires are the extreme opposite. They feel therefore they desire. Uninhibited by all these thoughts that we generate about gods and souls and afterlifes. They have experienced the communion of blood (the symbol for passion) and are reborn into a purely physical life. With no thoughts, they don't dream. They sleep the sleep of death and are re-born every day. Re-born with a predatorial desire to experience life eternally.

For Sookie, who has spent a lifetime assaulted by the thought-realm of human beings, it is a whole new universe to be with someone whose thoughts she can't hear. She has to navigate the relationship based on feelings. She's free to explore the sensual without the thought-stream interrupting her pleasure. Being with Bill is her re-birth. This born-again experience, though, is about earthly desire, not heavenly salvation. It's not about fearing death. It's about living life.

Vampires: Sexy or Sexual Predator

Unaspenser — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 06:43:47 GMT

Last week I re-watched a few episodes of True Blood where they blatantly explore the nature of sexuality. This is an evolution. In the gothic Dracula sex is never mentioned. The closest Stoker gets is describing the woman-turned-vampire as having become "voluptuously wanton." Any references to blood lust as a stand in for sexual desire are buried in code.

That was the 1890s. By 1922, we have Nosferatu. Nothing but monstrous. In 1931, along comes Bela Lugosi. A bit more alluring due to an exoticism. He has an aristocratic air and the ability to charm. He hypnotizes Mina into his embrace. Still, all for horror. No redeeming qualities.

By 1958 , we get Christopher Lee as Dracula and a display of charismatic attraction. In 1973 he plays Dracula again with more reference to sexual desire. Then in 1979, all pretense is swept away. Frank Langella plays a very romantic Dracula. The character has more depth. He is not just a monster of bloodlust, he is brooding. Centuries of existence has wizened him. He is cosmopolitan and knows how to woo a woman. This is perhaps the first time that the women in the audience are meant to swoon over Dracula. So, now, we can start talking about this. Why are women attracted? What makes him sexy?

In Buffy the Vampire Slayer and True Blood, we get some insight. In both stories the female leads have powers. They are not ordinary women. Their powers leave them lonely. Not because no one is attracted to them. They have admirers. Neither of them are drawn to these men, though. Why? Because the relationship feels inequitable. The men are looking up to them in admiration which is different than feeling attracted to them as peers. You could say that the women feel they haven't met their match. They would have to hold themselves back in order not to dominate the relationship. They would have to be satisfied, and not judgmental or disappointed, with someone who can never rise to their level. (I'm simply depicting their perception here. In this perception there is a lot to be examined.) In the case of Sookie, she can hear people's thoughts. This makes her more aware of the true nature of people than most. They can't hide anything from her. She is never blessed with the naiveté that let's us blindly trust others in that falling in love stage.

Then along come vampires. Not just any vampires, though. These women aren't self-destructive, per se. (Well, Buffy is at one point and it's a plot device used visually depict self-loathing.) Sookie doesn't dislike herself. She's lonely. She's felt ostracized by her fellow humans for being different. What powerful women have experienced this? So, she's not going be drawn to a vampire just because he's powerful. Still, she falls for one. Bill. What is it about Bill?

Bill knows he's a predator. He's very clear with Sookie that he's not human. (A point about which he sulks.) The way he walks, shoulders swaying with intent, leading his body toward you, reminds you of a cat on the hunt. But, Bill is "mainstreaming". That is, he rejects the feral vampire lifestyle. He doesn't feed on humans. Here's where we get in the blurry distinctions between sexual predator and sexually powerful. He's very aware of his power and he's made a decision to keep it in check so that he's not destructive. Still, he's very comfortable with his power. When it comes to being with Sookie he's fearless. He's unambiguos about his interest. He's comfortable with whatever she brings to the table. He looks her directly in the eye. More importantly, he has the self-confidence to be open and respectful. He may be a predator, but never once pushes past her boundaries. At the same time, he's willing to reveal his vulnerabilities to her. He demonstrates his trustworthiness and gives her his trust. Sexual predators know how compelling these traits are and are masterful at setting up their victims by presenting themselves this way. Is Bill drawing Sookie in as a victim or really connecting in relationship?

As a viewer, I find myself constantly assessing him. I started with a lot of wariness. Sookie has a fair bit of her own. He's a vampire after all, so I expect the dark side to be revealed. So does Sookie. At one point, after having two near-death experiences due to associating with him, she asks, "why would I keep seeing you?" He responds with the most compelling answer of all, "Because you could never fully be yourself with any human man." Over time, my questions about him are shifting. Eventually, in one episode the character Tara voices a question on my mind, "Do you think they're capable of love?" That question is the key to whether he's being predatorial or not. Bill is behaving like someone in love? But he's a vampire! Even if he thinks he's in love, it must be twisted, right? Can he truly love?

True Blood is designed to push up against all your quaint assumptions of who's good and who's bad, what's a healthy relationship and what's not. Humans are just not that clear cut. In one episode, 3 parallel scenes of 3 couples engaged in sex exemplify this. Jason (Sookie's brother) and a woman whose name he can't recall are having overly physical, almost but not quite violent sex. They are so detached that they are not even facing one another. While she's declaring that she loves him, he is practically crying in pain. They are each in their own world. In previous sex scenes with Jason, he is always gymnastic and at one point he even looks in the mirror to admire himself. What is sex about for Jason? It would appear that his inability to express himself emotionally has numbed him and the only time he feels anything is with some pretty extreme sexual behavior. For him, the intense stimulation is how he affirms he's alive.

Meanwhile, Sam (Sookie's boss and rebuffed admirer) and Tara (Sookie's best friend) have gotten together. They aren't really shown in the act itself, the scene is about the prelude and the postlude. They are both suffering and they don't want to be alone. Unlike Jason, they can express their feelings, but they find them overwhelming. They make life seem insurmountably bleak. After sex, Tara says something like, "It's amazing how the world disappears..." For them, it's an injection of escapism.

Those are the human couples. Now let's pan over to Sookie and Bill. Sookie is in shock from the death of her grandmother, along with other traumas. Bill has saved her life once. She has saved his. They've been learning about one another. They are each impervious to a power the other has. Sookie is not susceptilbe to be "glamoured." Bill thoughts are not transmitted to Sookie. They each have to build the relationship the way anyone else would. They have bonded. Since her grandmother's death, no one has been able to connect to Sookie. Her grandmother was the closest, most intimate relationship she had and she's gone. It's a huge vaccuum. Nature abhors a vaccuum. Though she's been wary, Sookie, at twilight, dons a white nightgown (um, wedding dress?) and runs through the forest. Bill senses her emotional intensity and knows she's coming. He heads to the door to wait for her and they meet with a deep passion of connection. As his passionate energy flows, he turns away from her because his fangs emerge. She gently touches his face and pulls him in for the lightest of kisses. She accepts his power and trusts him to control it. They're lovemaking is intimate.

That's right. The only couple actually engaging in bonding through intimacy is the one with the vampire. As a viewer, you're watching this beautifully emotional scene. It's a romantic high that you're riding into euphoria. The partnership experience we all say we're looking for. Then Sookie says, "Do it. I want you, too," and in one ferocious stroke, Bill bites her neck and we're subjected to a larger than life image of a tongue licking blood on the surface of skin. End of episode. Snap. Back to the reality of this fantasy.

It's never simple, is it? We are talking a vampire here. Why is it, though, that we so often need fantasy worlds in order to explore our realities? We create entire universes with exotic creatures and science fiction, just so we can ponder a relationship between a woman and a member of the undead and say, "That's life."

As I watched and was jolted by the final image, I found myself questioning mechanics. "So, why wouldn't she just bleed to death when he bites her in the neck? Why isn't it exruciatingly painful?" It wasn't until later that I pondered the question I didn't want to ask as I've grown attached to the character, "Well, is he just a sophisticated sexual predator, or not?" We don't have the answer, yet. We'll have to keep watching and talking. I can tell you this. He's damn sexy and I couldn't even describe one physical attribute that makes him that way. It's his character. It wouldn't matter what he looked like. Of course, he's safely tucked into a TV screen, so we can ponder those lines between powerful and predator without risking our lives. Which we'll do more of soon.

Vampires: There But For Grace

Unaspenser — Fri, 07 Nov 2008 03:02:35 GMT

When I went back to re-read Dracula, I couldn't find my copy. Likely, I lent it out and it has not been returned, as with so many of my books. But, then, that's what books are for, no? Anyway, I had to go check it out of the library. This time around, there was one passage that really struck me. I want to write about it before returning the book, so this may seem a little off-track in terms of the trajectory of exploration, but here we go:

Dracula is a gothic horror story designed to grip the reader with the fear of a magnificently evil force. The reader turns the pages wondering what this beast is capable of, who will be victimized and whether our heroes will save the day. Along the way we're a little scintilated by the power and the intimate nature of his transgressions. Throughout, Stoker has laced the dialog with references to religion while contemplating the virtues of science. In it he seems to reflect a culture war where religious faith is seen as an antiquated superstition and science is the modern pursuit of rational civility. Ultimately, his characters defeat Dracula with a combination of the two. Stoker is envisioning a middle ground where the two worlds co-exist interdependently. Though written in 1897, this is still a very relevant theme.

Did he write the book simply to suggest this? Was this all to address what he saw as a false construct that only led to division in his society? Certainly, the book is laced with references from beginning to end. However, one page of the 502 in this paperback edition suggests to me that he had a much more profound message to deliver. On this page, Mina Harker, who has been bitten by Dracula and is in the process of being turned into a vampire, implores her friends who are trying to save her by defeating this abomination:

"Jonathan, dear, and you all, my true, true friends, I want you to bear something in mind through all this dreadful time. I know that you must fight - that you must destroy even as you destroyed the false Lucy so that the true Lucy might live hereafter; but it is not a work of hate."

As she suffers through an unimaginable process that tortures her soul, as she sits on the brink of becoming that which horrifies her beyond all else, she, of all of them, has the capacity to beg them to remember that even a monster was once a human. To ask them to fight the demon with love for the human, not hate for that which he has become. She goes on:

"That poor soul who has wrought all this misery is the saddest case of all. Just think what will be his joy when he too is destroyed in his worser part that his better part may have spiritual immortality. You must be pitiful to him too, though it may not hold your hands from destruction."

Mina is instructing them to stand strong against the destructive actions of Dracula whilst embracing the person who is more than just a monster. She is saying that you cannot wipe out hate with hate, you must do it with love. When her husband has a hard time accepting this, she says:

"Just think my dear - I have been thinking all this long, long day of it - that... perhaps... some day... I may be in need of such pity; and that some other like you - and with equal cause for anger - may deny it to me."

The posse is very moved by her and they go forth with a different motive in their heart. This higher calling allows them to carry out their purpose with more meaning and to go forward with less fear. In the end they are triumphant, though there are losses. Mina is saved from the inimitable 'fate worse than death'. Much has been transversed over the course of 502 pages. We are not exploring the sensational for the sake of stoking fear, inciting some kind of virtue war or demonizing ourselves for not being perfect. We are wandering in the wilderness of the human experience to be reminded to hold our hand out for the other lost souls. Perhaps the strongest message in looking at the worst possible depravities of human kind was this: there but for grace go I. Ultimately, Bram Stoker was writing about helping another out of love rather than judging out of anger and hate.

More on how this part of his message has been lost or enhanced in future writings.....

Vampires, Anglo-Saxon-Style

Unaspenser — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 06:51:03 GMT

I referred earlier to a conversation with a friend. She is not Anglo-Saxon. She is Latina. So, when I mentioned to her that I was going to start writing about vampires, she was graciously quiet. What became evident after I blathered on for a while, something she often exhibits her patience with, is that vampires are not a prevalent pop-culture theme in her world. She was perplexed at our fascination with them. So, what is it about Anglo-Saxon culture and vampires?

The idea of people rising from the dead to prey on the living has been around as long as religion. Tibetans, Hindus, Egyptians, Christians, the Chinese, just about every religion and culture, have at some point introduced the evil spectre of your soul being lost to a perpetual state of ferociously destructive hunger if you are not adhering to the tenets of your religion or social code. Other aspects of vampires such as whether they can be out during the day, etc. vary from story to story, but this aspect is common to all. The vampire represents succumbing to our desires, most of which are deemed sinful because you are to sublimate your desires to the desires of your god. In the vast majority of these cases, however, vampires are rather simple constructs. They are usually gruesome looking characters with little intelligence or personality. Little would attract you to them for any purpose other than a scary fireside ghost story.

Yet, in Victorian times we see a shift. I'm sure there are others, but Bram Stoker's Dracula is the most well-known. The book, published in 1895 was critically acclaimed but did not become popular until later when film adaptations emerged. The character of Dracula is more complex than older tellings of vampires. Though our protagonists are English, he is from Transylvania. So, he is not one of "us", he is exotic. He is well-educated. He has carefully planned his move to England by studying British culture and history. Also, there is nothing in the description of who he was when he was human that suggests that he deserved an evil fate:

"...for in that time, and for centuries afterward, he was spoken of as the cleverest and most cunning, as well as, the bravest of the sons..."

It is thrown in that some in the Dracula family studied "Scholomance" which is the work of the devil. Presumably, this Dracula did or he wouldn't be a vampire. But the description of the bravery and honor in his life makes that unclear. Perhaps he was "turned" by an existing vampire.

The slowly unfolding mystery in Dracula of what is happening to this young woman who falls strangely ill is a classic page-turner. Why is she so pale and weak one day, then gets better, only to get ill again? What does her sleep-walking have to do with it. I tried to read it this time with an eye for what it must have been like if you had never heard of vampires or never would have suspected it to be a topic of literature. It's a compelling story when you do know. It must be absolutely riveting if you don't.

One interesting aspect of the story is that the victim, Lucy, a young woman being bitten over time to prepare her for becoming a vampire herself, has a vague fear during the day, but isn't repelled when Dracula actually comes to her. This man who is described as odd and unattractive looking by those who see him at other times, is somehow compelling to his victims. This young lady, at times, is trying herself to get to him in her sleep.

Ok. Let's talk about Anglo-Saxon society. Particularly the Regency and Victorian eras. You practically have to button your collar and zip your lip at the very mention. Jane Austen novels are set in the Regency Era. Most of the dramatic tension in her stories surrounds the characters struggling to express their feelings for one another because social interactions are so proscribed that they have no socially acceptable avenues of communication. This leads to misunderstandings that might prevent them from experiencing the love of their lives. The reader is rooting for them to buck the system and actualize their passions. This kind of restricted interaction persists through the Victorian era.

Of course, those passions are generally sexual. Here lies a gigantic chasm between Anglo-Saxon and Latino culture. Anglos have demonized sexuality. Particularly female sexuality. (Dissertations and books have been written about this, so we don't have to pick it apart. We'll just acknowledge it.) A woman's entire life could be ruined by an expression of sexual desire, much less an actual encounter. It's no surprise then that when demure, socially-correct Lucy becomes a vampire (the source of the 20th century word 'vamp'):

"The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness."

No! Not wantonness! Oh, the impurity! (It's interesting that cruelty is coupled with voluptuous wantonness.)

Later, when Dracula is witnessed with his second victim, Mina, we discover that not only does he bite her to drink her blood, but he opens his veins for her to drink his blood. This is key to turning someone into a vampire rather than simply killing her by sucking her dry. It is an intimate act. They are ingesting each other's life blood. Bonding through this exchange. I don't think it's an accident that this is so closely related to the religious act of communion. The participants have chosen their own passion over the passion of the church. (Of course, the victim isn't consciously choosing, she is mesmerized, because of course, one would have to be tricked into making this choice.)

In Latino culture, sexuality is practically everywhere. When I lived in Brasil, my WASP-y sensibilities were appalled at the way young girls were dressed in "sexy" clothing. Sexuality is not sublimated the way it is in Anglo-Saxon culture. Even though we might see it in our entertainment and our advertising, we still shun overt expressions of sexuality in social settings, unless they are small single-gender gatherings. Try going to a mixed-gender dinner party and talking about that pulse in your groin when you saw that attractive man enter the room. We just don't do that. We talk about sex in code. Vampire stories are one of those codes. We're allowed to be fascinated by the "horror" of it because it is clearly depicted as evil. That loud beating of the heart and the short-breathing that ensue can be chalked up to fear. Because it couldn't be that we envy the unbridled lust, the total surrender, the resulting extraodinary power....

True to Gothic form and the accepted modes of expression at the time, sex is never mentioned in Dracula. He's never portrayed as attractive. There's an inference when one character sees him after he has been feeding and notes that he looks different, younger. All the sex and sexuality is expressed to us symbolically. Later, however, vampire stories change. It's no coincidence that the women's movement and the sexual revolution are occurring in the Unites States when Frank Langella's suave and sultry Dracula hits the screens and makes a generation of vampire voyeurs swoon.

So, yes. It's about sexuality. Sexuality as a proxy for passion in general. The powers and vulnerabilities that are attached to vampires begin to tell us more about how we view the expression of these. It's all about our fears of own natures. Fears instilled into us by our acculturation. Only, when we read these stories or see these films, are we scared? Or are we relishing the vicarious experience of voluptuous wantonness?

Vampires: Lure of the Bad Boy

Unaspenser — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 13:32:28 GMT

In True Blood, it is accepted that vampires exist. They can live off of synthetic blood and therefore are becoming recognized and are fighting for civil rights. Still, humans aren't sure if they can trust them. They have extraordinary physical and mental powers which are frightening. Some of them have no desire to "mainstream" and deny their feral natures. We meet vampire personalities that range from those who attempt to be as civil as possible and those that, in rebellion, are ostentatiously brutal. Above all, humans don't understand vampires. What makes them tick? Are they inherently, irretrievably vicious and heartless? Why would any human take the risk of trusting a vampire?

So, vampires are the quintessential "bad boys". (There are female vampires, too, but I'm solely considering the bad boy archetype right now.) Yet some humans do decide to hang out with vampires. Our female protagonist may be falling in love with one.

rest of article found here:

Reading/Viewing List

Unaspenser — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 11:54:47 GMT

I'll list here books I have read, along with films that I've seen, that have anything to do with vampires and/or my thoughts on how they relate to our culture. Please add any titles you think are interesting in the comments section.

Books:
Dracula (Enriched Classics Series), Bram Stoker
Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter: Guilty Pleasures, Vol. 1, Laurel K. Hamilton
I Am Legend, Richard Matheson
Vampire Chronicles (Interview with the Vampire, etc.), Ann Rice
A Rush of Wings: Book One of The Maker's Song, Adrian Phoenix

Films/TV:
Dark Shadows
Kolchak
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Angel
Dracula (Christopher Lee version)
The Hunger
Underworld
The Addiction
Near Dark
True Blood

There are hundreds of books and films, but these are ones that either impressed me or seem to have captured popular attention (suggesting they may hold some interesting reflections in them.)

Vampires and Humanity

Unaspenser — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 17:48:29 GMT

I struggle with how to begin talking about vampires. I'm no academic and who wants a dry treatise anyway? I am fairly well-read. I am full of thoughts, observations, opinions and feelings. Sometimes I even make someone other than myself laugh. Even if I was academic, it's difficult to simply define what a vampire is.

So, what I'll do is just pick a random thought about vampires that I've had lately. I'll expound on that and we'll see where all of this goes....

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