Second Interview with Sky Gilbert

INT. Do you still go to theatre, Sky? I know you’re retired now —

SKY.  Oh I hate that word. And yes I do go to theatre, all the time. Even though most of the theatre I see is absolutely appalling.

INT. What exactly do you mean by appalling

SKY. Not excellent.

INT. And what does that mean?

SKY. Well I’ll tell you about a recent experience I had at Coal Mine Theatre. I cried.

INT. What production was it?

SKY. The Effect, by Lucy Prebble.

INT. So. The play was so deeply moving, that it made you —

SKY. The play did not make me cry. I LOVED it though. Act two was actually scary and brought up a paradox — and I love paradoxes (they are the essence of life!) the idea that depression is toxic, but taking anti-depressive drugs is perhaps a denial of the reality of the experience of living. Fascinating. Then the two leading characters got into a freaky fight that was again actually scary — and very upsetting, as it was a man and woman physically fighting. Wow. 

The only thing I didn’t like was that what was advertised was (i.e. a warning — but we all know theatre warnings are really advertisements) nudity — but all the actors were wearing spanks for the sex scenes. Spanks!  There was no nudity whatsoever! Would you ever have sex in a pair of spanks? I mean spanks are tragically misnamed because you can’t spank anyone in them, that is, properly. That is, make their butt red —

INT. We seem to have strayed off-topic Sky — and again are mired in sex and sexuality.

SKY. Mired, but why —

INT. I’m just trying to keep you on track.

SKY. Okay. What was the track. I’m old, I’m retired, I forgot.

INT. What made you cry at Coal Mine Theatre, if it was not the play.

SKY. Ted Dykstra. Ted Dykstra made me cry, when he talked about the end of Coal Mine Theatre. 

INT. And why did you cry?

SKY. I can’t stand to see it go. It’s my favourite theatre in Toronto. Everything I see there is fascinating and complex, and controversial, and dangerous and upsetting and fraught and doesn’t make me comfortable. I love that.

INT. What did Ted Dykstra say?

SKY. Well you know when Coal Mine started up I was kind of perturbed by their 'anti-government funding' stance. They seemed to be proudly saying — we don’t get government funding. I didn’t realize at the time what government funding would turn into.

INT. Fascinating. What has it turned into? That is — in your opinion —

SKY. In my humble opinion. But it’s not humble (I think it’s quite a brilliant opinion, because it’s mine!) you see I was a part of this mess. I'm ashamed now. I was a part of the mechanism which has become present day aesthetic political correctness. But I was bullied into by the arts councils. I figured out at some point that if I said on grant applications that my plays were about human beings, or the massive paradoxes of life or — God forgive me — about how awful people are, generally, I wouldn’t get an arts council grant. I had to say that the plays were ‘gay’ plays and advanced the ‘Gay Agenda’ (by the way, run do not walk to see the new Blake and Clay -- their second show is also fabbie-do — and it's shocking to me that Buddies in Bad Times won’t produce it!). But after seeing my supposedly gay plays, audience members would come up to me and ask me why I hated gay men so much -- because the gay men in my plays were such horrible, vile creatures. And I would say — 'well everyone is horrible and vile, including me, and that’s what makes a good play!' Anyway, I lied in the grant applications and pretended my plays were ‘political’ in the sense of being  evidently gay positive. They certainly weren’t political in that way. So now Ted Dykstra says Coal Mine can’t get grants, even if they want them, because some dumb arts council executive (getting paid far more than Ted Dykstra, I’m sure) told him that ‘excellence is not a mandate.’ To counter the idiot arts council executive I would say art is not longer excellent, that present day art has become a preachy, boring ideological tract — and this repulsive fact is going to destroy art.

INT. I’ve always wondered — dare I ask you — why do you have so many strong opinions Sky?

SKY. I’m an American. I was born a gay American. It’s caused me lots of trouble.

INT. Are all Americans innately…argumentative?

SKY. All Americans are loud, fat, stupid, pigheaded. and fundamentally puritan. This is one of those stereotypes that just happens to be true. The problem with America is that it was settled by puritans. They also came up here and settled in Ontario, which is why we have Doug Ford, and no strip clubs in Toronto anymore (or maybe, five, not counting FLASH) and why we have the very anal Ontario Arts Council and all these horrible rich people running in and out of their condos while the poor defecate on the streets.

INT. Aren't you being a little hard on Americans?

SKY. No. Puritans were the outcasts of British society in the 1500s -- yes they ran the place for a while and got rid of theatre (puritans are running Toronto theatre again now) -- that's why so many of them took their hair shirts with them and escaped to the future states of Virginia and Massachusetts. Americans are certifiably nuts. Have you watched what’s going on down there? It’s the fall. It’s the end of America. Which is probably a good thing.

INT. Well Sky we don’t have time to talk about the fall of America. I’m afraid your time is up.

SKY. Oh, are you my therapist?  Or are you, perhaps, an Ontario Arts council grants advisor in disguise?

INT. I hope not.

SKY. I hope not too. I have a therapist, and contrary to what my partner thinks, she’s doing a great job.

INT. I think we’ll leave it there for now. Thanks Sky.

SKY. You are eternally welcome!

An Interview with Sky Gilbert

INTRODUCTION. We were able to capture an interview with the illusive Sky Gilbert. We haven’t heard from him awhile —apparently he has been teaching at the University of Guelph for twenty-five years, and duly forgotten by everyone, despite his publication of a few little-noticed novels and poetry collections. It didn’t help that Gilbert was effectively ‘cancelled’ by Buddies in Bad Times Theatre — the theatre he co-founded— so many years ago. Thus Gilbert’s only real claim to fame was effectively erased. We caught up with him in his Hamilton home. 

INT. So, Sky great to see you! You look fantastic for — how old are you?

SKY. Seventy-one this year.

INT. Seventy-one! How time flies...

SKY. When you’re having fun!

INT. So Sky, why have you been hiding all these years.

SKY. I don’t think you can really call it hiding when no one has been looking for you.

INT. Now Sky. Aren’t you being a little harsh?

SKY. I don’t think so. I’m surprised even that anyone would want to do an interview with me, after all I am not only old, but old news.

INT. Well part of the interest has been in finding out what might have happened to someone who -- when he was young, was such a crusader for well —

SKY. You can say it — sex.

INT. I didn’t want to —

SKY. Why not? Say it. Sex sex sex. Yes. My life is all about sex.

INT. But surely now—

SKY. I’ve slowed down a little bit. But I’m still pretty obsessed with it.

INT. What is it about sex that interests you so much?

SKY. I’m a pervert. That’s what Sue Golding told many years ago when she was President of Buddies in Bad Times Theatre. “You love sex, it’s a primary interest in your life, you are therefore officially a pervert.” Ever since she informed me of that, I’ve identified that way and I’m very grateful to her for the insight.

INT. What’s Sue Golding up to these days?

SKY. Dr. Johnny Golding is a Professor of Philosophy & Fine Art at the Royal College of London.

INT. So he is now a trans person?

SKY. No. Johnny is a lesbian. I’m pretty sure Johnny will always be a woman and a lesbian. She is a woman with man’s name. It’s concept that people might have hard time getting their minds around — these days,

INT. To cut to the quick, what are you up to now, Sky?

SKY. I’m writing and producing plays as always.

INT. I wonder why we haven’t heard about them.

SKY. I don’t think people are very interested, these days, in what perverts have to say.

INT. Do you have to call yourself that? I mean, really Sky.

SKY. Really, what.

INT. It’s so unflattering.

SKY. But it’s the truth. (Pause) I mean, perhaps I am being disingenuous here. To suggest that I am forgotten also suggests that there is a reason to remember me. I don’t know if there is. But I can speak eloquently on this topic in relationship to Hillar Liitoja.

INT. Who?

SKY. Ah, yes -- a revealing response. “Who?” He was one of the most singular Canadian writer-directors of the theatre, a visionary of the highest order — and he recently died. 

INT. Again, why haven’t we heard of him? 

SKY. I think, in Hillar’s case it has to do with the general rejection of the concept of history. As one of my friends says, Hillar was made for cancelling. He was a narcissist, an individualist, and a genius. And he cared only for beauty.

INT. Ahh I see, male beauty, like you?

SKY. Hillar was bisexual. And he was particularly obsessed with artificial beauty, that is the beauty created by the artist.

INT. And you say we have forgotten Hillar because we have forgotten history.

SKY. Yes, we live in a youth centric society. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t necessary think that the old should be automatically revered, but they should not be automatically forgotten. Hillar was a flawed human being (and those who criticize artists for being flawed human beings are apparently not at all flawed themselves!). But he created —what Adorno would call — ‘other worlds.’ Hillar’s work did not teach; It only inspired. It did not create exemplary lives or imitate real ones. Like Shakespeare, Hillar created other worlds that we are meant to compare our own lives to, but not model our lives upon.

INT. Hillar. Shakespeare. That’s putting him in quite high estimation.

SKY. He was brilliant, and his work influenced so many people, and changed so many lives. So many people loved this ‘narcissist’ — and only because he loved beauty. But we don’t love people who love beauty anymore. Because we don’t love beauty.

INT. Well, you certainly said a mouthful Sky. I’m sorry I don’t have longer to talk to you.

Maybe I’ll interview you again sometime —

SKY. If you have time in the next 10 or 20 years, but I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ll probably be dead.

INT. Now Sky, there you go again. Aren’ t you the Mary Contrary.

SKY. Talk to you soon.

INT. Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?

EPILOGUE. There was no answer. This was a zoom interview -- and Sky -- who had invited me to the meeting -- ended it. I guess we will know what Sky meant by ‘artificial beauty’ or why he is so obsessed with Hillar Liitoja’s death. 

Well.

Sky can’t say that we didn’t at least, try. 

DRAG QUEENS ON TRIAL: AN OBSERVATION

Evelyn Parry erased Drag Queens in Outer Space from the 40th anniversary of Buddies in Bad Times Theatre because she didn’t like a blog I had written here. This was censorship; but I’m not going to cry over spilt milk. The sister play of Drag Queens in Outer Space is Drag Queens On Trial, and it is a much better play. That's why I’m going to rattle on about it. I am not in the habit of talking about my old plays, but since both Drag Queens On Trial and its sister are likely to die lonely and ignominious deaths, I might as well talk about them now. (Besides, who knows? I’m 71 and frankly, I won’t be around forever.) Drag Queens on Trial — though it quickly became an audience and critical hit in 1985 —  has never had a professional production in Canada (only in the USA!). Likely there never will be one. It has also never been properly understood. Its initial success (and lack of staying power) makes me ponder what will happen to similar plays published in Canada recently. I am not speaking of plays about drag queens; I am speaking of plays that are much vaunted for their ‘political correctness’ when they appear, but have no actual relation to the public zeitgeist, and so quite naturally slip into oblivion. Contrary to what you might imagine, Drag Queens on Trial - though it is humorous and quite filthy, is also dreadfully serious and deals with the topic of AIDS in a way that it has never been dealt with before. It was way ahead of its time, or perhaps — and — this is much more likely --  its time may never come (until, like any old whore who sticks around too long, it becomes a respected institution). John Glines almost produced DQOT at The Glines in New York City in the 80s — but I declined his invitation . (Glines was famous for having premiered Harvey Fierstein’s Torch Song Trilogy). John Glines did produce DQOT much much later, in New York City, in a very badly acted and directed production. The reason why I declined Glines’ initial invitation is very relevant to my argument here. As recounted in my memoir, John Glines was very excited about the play, and I was very excited about him producing it, until he said — “I want all the jokes. I love all the jokes. But we’ve got to get rid of all the AIDS stuff. New York is tired of all that AIDS stuff.” This is the problem with DQOT — it’s eminently entertaining — especially for straight people who want to fool themselves for an hour and a half into thinking they are so very, very open  minded for watching it. But to anyone inside the gay community, the AIDS content would be unsettling  — both in 1985, and today. Basically, Lana Lust, the brazen slut who is the leading character, when confronted with her AIDS diagnosis (by The Bad Witch of the West, no less!) has an nearly mawkish yet very stirring speech in which she defends her promiscuity, admitting to swallowing ‘busloads of sperm.' Finally, she proclaims ‘don’t look back, don’t give up, it was worth it!’ Audiences inevitably burst into spontaneous applause without knowing why. But my play was about theatre —  as much as it was about gay politics — and I was trying to parody the kind of 19th century melodrama in which heroes deliver heartbreaking soul-inspiring speeches at the end — speeches that persuade the audience to rise to their feet in blind adoration. So on the one hand, the play seems to support an idea that is repulsive to some, even today — that endangering one’s life by being a slut is okay, and that promiscuity may be even an heroic act. But one is meant to be skeptical of Lana's sentiments — in the manner of Susan Sontag’s ‘camp’ — and furthermore, skeptical of any and all attempts to sway our emotions in a melodramatic manner. In fact the audience is asked to be both moved and self-critical at the same time. What’s interesting and relevant to all the terribly politically correct plays being produced today is that the Canadian theatre establishment back then was (as it still is now) dedicated to virtue signalling. The academics who published my play (God bless them!) could not resist congratulating themselves on their sensitivity and political acuity for automatically declaring my play a Canadian classic. (The same kind of acclaim followed George Ryga for Ecstasy of Rita Joe in 1967.) Today we are seeing a spate of plays that also speak —- sometimes eloquently, and sometimes not — about social justice issues. They immediately become critical hits, and are published. But I don’t know if they will ever reach a wider public, as the arts in Canada are (thank God again! ) funded by the government, and exist in a kind of sanitized bubble. As such they are not required to ever make contact with the real world. I’m not complaining about any of this. Do with this what you will. I’m  just making an observation.

For some reason. 

It just came to me.  

I LOVE YOU, DADDY

The censorship of this brilliant film is scandalous, and indicative of the ‘dark ages’ approaching (with increasing speed). What has happened to Louie C.K. is appalling, and the disappearance of such a significant and  major work in the modern fashion -- i.e. due to ‘ad hominem’ accusations against the artist -- is a sign that art, as we know it, is seeing it’s final eclipse. I grew up in what I now see as a Golden Age of American Art. As a young queer American boyette I was exposed to Who’s Afraid of Viriginia Woolf? and the plays of Tennessee Wiliams, from an early age, and I came to define drama as what my friend David calls ‘four people being rude in a. room.’ This is what theatre has been since Greek tragedy and what it should be forever. The implication of my friend’s definition of theatre are these: you might not enjoy the play or movie you are going to see -- or the book you are going to read -- in the sense that it may not give you the endless, thoughtless pleasure that let’s say reading a 'Harry Potter’ book for the 10th time, might. The book, or play or movie might feature characters that you find repulsive, doing things you find disgusting, frightening or even horrific (and I don’t mean scary like some dumb horror movie, I mean horrific like for instance: Medea). But that is the job of art,  to present us with stories that are simply terrifying as well as just terrifyingly pretty. I Love You, Daddy was set to be released in November 2017 and premiered at The Toronto International Film Festival just before that (something we here in Toronto should be very proud of) and was consequently censored — without the benefit of government intervention, and without the possible saving grace of public outcry. No one had to ban it (that’s just the way we destroy art nowadays — it’s quick and easy and unannounced) it was simply never released. All this happened because Louie C.K. was accused  — by three women —  of exposing himself to them, in each case after having asked their permission to do so, and being given that permission (one of the ‘exposures’ happened over the telephone). I am not trying to minimize Louie C.K.’s misconduct —and Louie C. K has not tried to do so either — but that is not the point here. The point here is that artists have the right to be bastards, bastardettes (or for that matter, bastards with unfamiliar pronouns) because they are by nature at least as screwed up as so-called normal people (where do you think all that art comes from?). And what they do in their private lives should not be held against their work, period. If we started to analyze the personal lives and crazy political views of all the artists we loved — and if we decided to ban the work of those artists whose lives and attitudes we now consider repellant (which is something that, unfortunately, is happening as we speak) there would be no more art. This is a dire situation. But no one cares because it’s easier to just continue reading Harry Potter alone in our pink and fancy bedrooms, eating chocolate, and getting fat on the limitations of our dull inadequacy of invention. (Though of course J.K. Rowling is being given a hard time too. Perhaps any sort of fantasy is just toxic — perhaps we should stay away from the human imagination, itself?) I saw I Love You, Daddy last night after 5 years of waiting to see it. I’m technologically incompetent enough (yes, I am old) that I couldn’t figure out how to download it without my computer yelling at me that my QuickTime required Viagra. To say the film is brilliant would be an understatement. I Love You, Daddy had me in its grasp, in full blown intellectual and emotional rapture from beginning to end. Let’s be clear about what Louie C.K. has done here. He has made a sex positive film in which he de-mystifies sex, and most importantly (and I think this is why the film has been banned) he has made a feminist a film that clearly emboldens women who desire, who are sexual, and who initiate their own sexual pleasures. It is a film which also respects women's sexual privacy and independence of thought. (I Love You, Daddy uses the term 'pervert' to describe anyone who openly desires.) I Love You, Daddy is actually a fictional biography of Woody Allen in later life; apparently Louie C.K. has worked with Allen and actually offered Allen the part of himself (i.e. the part of an aging accused pedophile filmmaker) (he has balls, this Louie C.K.! ). Allen refused (obviously) — however John Malkovich is amazing in the role. This film also contains masterful performances by the incomparable Edie Falco (in a gorgeous unremitting rage here) and Pamela Adlon (Adlon is a long-time feminist artist and collaborator of Louie C.K.). It’s a shame that actors Chloe Grace Moritz and Rose Byrne have decided to jump on the trendy bandwagon and condemn this film. One can forgive Moritz I suppose, because as a onetime child star and graduate of Disney films she felt it necessary to protect her franchise (it’s all about money). But, interestingly Adlon and Falco have not condemned the film. I must also mention Charlie Day, who I will not forget faux-masturbating on a couch every time Rose Byrne telephones (in two hilarious scenes). We will be patting ourselves on the back for a long time for the momentous cancelling of our imaginations that the banning of this film represents. But there is nothing that can be done; as in 476 A D we are descending into the dark, and only now and then will a few people be able to write or read anything of value. And god forbid if we yearn to see real human life, as it is lived, uncensored and in all it’s glorious emotional gore; this is no longer allowed.