Wynton Marsalis is playing in town tonight. I thought of going but balked at the price: €100 is too much to pay to hear the blues.
Artistic expression is not means-tested. You don't lose your right to make it above a certain pay rate. And the proposition that art becomes harder to make after one attains financial security is one I'd be glad to test. But speaking as an
artiste, one reaches a point -- an age -- when how much the artist earns becomes a factor in what they say. On the day when Picasso could increase the value of a dollar bill by drawing on it, his painting became a whole new game.
Or as a friend of mine once put it: 'I don't need Hollywood to tell me how tough life is.'
An
ad hominem argument, but a good one.
Money rarely gets in the way of novels because writers, on average, earn less. The bestseller's reward is Sisyphean: John Grisham has to keep churning out them lawyer thrillers;
bonne chance, JK Rowling, with that adult novel. Writers are the writers they always were: sometimes in the moment, one can strike it rich.
Money interferes with music all the time but we accept it, because the stadium experience is part of the aesthetic, and for every dollar Coldplay makes the record company makes 99, and were it not for the looming spectacle of Fat Elvis, what else, having seen a band once, would there be to watch? Led Zeppelin without the excess would be like a train without tracks.
But in film, in "Hollywood" -- money, that gets in the way.
Christopher Nolan's third Batman movie opens this week, and it's a grim tale. Gotham City has been modelled on
Charles Dickens; the hero -- a billionaire -- is in
crise; and the villain grew up in a prison with a
shiv stashed in his teddy bear. It's layered.
Fascinated with architecture, the filmmaker describes the rises and falls of his characters as if they are elevation points of a blueprint plan... He presents the trilogy almost as a tale of different levels — the heights of the city, the street level and the underground of caves and sewers. "Dark Knight Rises" presents a story where greed, hypocrisy and false justice bring down the city's bridges, stadium and the houses of government.
"We really wanted a cast of thousands, literally, and all of that for me is trying to represent the world in primarily visual and architectural terms," Nolan said. "So the thematic idea is that the superficial positivity is being eaten away from underneath; we tried to make that quite literal."
So much will be made of images of financial market abuse, politicians behaving badly, a terrorist attack at a professional football game and looting riots.
So much work and effort to make us feel
down. A
$250 million vision of hell; a comic book built behind 525-ton doors.
"I think my dad put it best when he visited and referred to it as the world's largest toy box," Nolan, back in Los Angeles, said last week with a rare relaxed chuckle.