Tuesday, March 16, 2021

And a Little Controversy, Please

 So, I am slightly drunk but that only makes me much braver and possibly unwise in what I’m going to type.

I believe Dylan Farrow. I believed her when she was seven years old. I believed her in 2014 when her op-ed was posted in the New York Times, and I believe her in the recent documentary that just aired on HBO. I have been on Team Dylan from the very beginning.

Clearly , this is more than just he said, she said, but the larger meta (and I’m always about the larger meta) is how do you separate art from the artist? I find I can't.

I have endured scorn from my own family members and friends for my vocal condemnation of people like Polanski and Allen. I did have a private moment of gratification when my son, who initially thought I was being hysterical about these sexual abusers early on in the PR game, had the stones to say to me at some point when MeToo was at its height, Yeah, Mom, you nailed it. Yeah, I did. 

I cannot disenfranchise the artists from the art. I can’t. Plain and simple. You watch a veritable bouquet of Woody Allen films and a theme emerges: the nebbish nerd as the object of desire by a young woman. Not all his films, but enough to give you a sense that this is a troubled individual. I remember seeing Husband’s and Wives and remarking to my husband, Wow, he must hate Mia Farrow. Did you see how he filmed her? 

Anyway, I cannot distinguish an artist and their art. I was never a Picasso fan, so his legendary behavior as a beater of women didn’t cause much cause and effect with me. Yes, I have seen Guernica, and it’s a masterpiece. Do I see the bruised faces of the women he routinely beat? You’re damn straight I do. Same with Roman Polanski, He’s a rapist. People who have defended him, yes, Johnny Depp, I’m looking at you, asshole, is now part of my list. I adored Johnny Depp for many years,  Now? Persona non grata. And all those actresses gushing about Allen as they waved their Oscars in the air. Say goodbye to any money from me.

I won’t die if I never see another Woody Allen film in my life. Or a Polanski film. Or a Depp film. I won’t. It’s a line that I have drawn for myself. If your line is different, well, it’s different. But don’t try to change my mind or defend them, because I will rip you to effing shreds.

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