Tuesday, August 21, 2018

The Pre-Raphaelites of Victorian England

The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood was a secret society of rebellious young artists and writers that was formed in England in 1848 for the purpose of redefining British art. It disbanded within a few years, but the aesthetic principles expressed in its manifesto, and the works of the original members, affected three generations of English artists, who were generally known as Pre-Raphaelites. You may never have heard of this movement, or any of the artists in it, because the French dominated art history in the 19th century and formed our ideas of what makes good art. This movement precedes Impressionism, which came along twenty years later. In the mid-19th century, French painters like Corot, Courbet, and Manet, were into realism, which involved looking at real scenes of modern life. The Pre-Raphaelites, by contrast, were looking backward toward the type of painting that came before the Renaissance, which was literary, decorative, and symbolic.

When the founders of the PRB—William Holman Hunt (age 21), Dante Gabriel Rossetti (age 20), and John Everett Millais (age 19), and several of their friends—were studying at the art academy, the Renaissance was considered the peak of art history, and Raphael was the ultimate artist. The art that preceded it, the art of the Middle Ages, was considered 'primitive,' and given scant attention by their professors.

The members of the PRB felt that English art had stagnated because artists were mindlessly working in a Renaissance style, without rethinking it or adding anything new. They scornfully branded these artists 'Raphaelites,' and that is how they came to think of themselves as Pre-Raphaelites. However, this name is misleading because as the artists matured, they took an interest in the art of the late Renaissance, and even began to study the Venetians, who were on a different track completely.

The thing that bothered them most about the paintings of their teachers is that the edges of their forms and figures tended to merge with the background, leaving certain details unaccounted for. What they liked about the art of Northern Europe was that the edges of the forms are crisp and all the details are depicted distinctly, no matter how far away. This was their idea of 'truth to nature.'

The special exhibit currently at the Legion of Honor Museum of Art, called 'Truth and Beauty,' has only one example of the style they were rebelling against, this very nice self-portrait by Raphael from the Uffizi Museum in Florence.

Raphael, Self-Portrait
Uffizi / photo by Jan, 2018

One of the chief pleasures of the exhibit is the many examples of the art that inspired the Pre-Raphaelites.

Early European Art

Jan van Eyck, 1390-1441
The Annunciation, c. 1436
National Gallery, Washington D.C. / Photo by Jan, 2018
Jan van Eyck was the greatest painter of his era in Northern Europe, and his version of the archangel announcing to Mary her upcoming pregnancy is widely revered. My photo has a distracting reflection right in the center, but you can see that every detail is richly imagined. Notice also that the figures are elongated and the space is compressed; this is why art historian of the time considered this to be 'primitive' art.


Master of the Saint Lucy Legend, active c. 1475-1505
Virgin and Child Enthroned with Angels, 1400-1500
FAMSF / Photo by Jan, 2018
The art that first interested the Pre-Raphaelites was so old that the artists could not always be identified. This painting is in the same style of another famous painting of the period, known as The Legend of St. Lucy, but the name of the artist is unknown. Here again, every detail is crisp, but the figures are elongated and the proportions are wrong; for instance, if the Virgin were to stand up, her head would bump the top of her throne.


Early Italian Art

The best known Italian artist before Raphael was probably Sandro Botticelli, and the exhibit offers some examples of his work; however, the paintings they show are not the ones that most influenced the Pre-Raphaelites. Botticelli's most important works are very large and never leave the Uffizi Museum in Florence. I'm going to bring in prints from the Internet to give you a better idea of what the Pre-Raphaelites liked.
Sandro Botticelli, 1445-1510
Primavera, c. 1480
Internet grab from Uffizi
In this dreamy painting, Botticelli united the imagery of Christianity (the Virgin in the center, and the putti overhead) with the imagery of classical mythology (the three graces on the left), and other standard mythological figures in painting, such as Flora (the flower clad maiden on the right). 




Sandro Botticelli, 1445-1510
The Birth of Venus, mid 1840s
Internet grab from Uffizi 

Venus was the Goddess of Love, who arose fully formed from the sea. To her left the Wind Gods blow her ashore, and separate the strands of her luxuriant hair. On the right Flora welcomes her with a flowing robe. The edges are crisp, the forms are graceful, and details are evenly lighted throughout.

The exhibit did have one excellent example by Botticelli, but I accidentally failed to photograph it, so I'm including an internet grab; it also belongs to the Uffizi, but there are similar versions in two other museums.

Sandro Botticelli, 1445-1510
Madonna of the Magnificat, 1481
Internet grab from Uffizi
Here we see the complex but balanced composition that Pre-Raphaelites admired, plus the crisp edges, the rich details, the graceful forms, and the rich coloration.


Sandro Botticelli, 1444-1510
Madonna and Child with Two Angels, c. 1470
Naples / Photo by Jan, 2018
This is a fairly conventional portrait of the Madonna, with rather dull coloration. The was not the kind of thing that inspired the Pre-haphaelites, but it does have graceful forms and a mystical mood.


Sandro Botticelli, 1444-1510
Idealized Portrait of a Lady (Portrait of Simonetta Vespucci as Nymph), c. 1475
Städel Museum, Franfurt
This type of idealized portrait, with its mystifyingly complicated hair arrangement, had a great deal of impact of the Pre-Raphaelites, some of whom specialized in idealized portraits.


One of the artists with a strong influence on the Renaissance was Domenico Ghirlandaio, a contemporary of Botticelli. Many artists got their training in his studio, including Michelangelo.

Domenico Ghirlandaio, 1449-1494
Portrait of a Man, c. 1490
Huntington Library / Photo by Jan, 2018
Domenico Ghirlandaio, 1449-1494
Portrait of a Woman, c. 1490
Huntington Library / Photo by Jan, 2018

Piero di Cosimo was admired by the Pre-Raphaelites for his carefully articulated, naturalistic details.

Piero di Cosimo, 1462-1521
Madonna and Child with the Infant Saint John the Baptist,
c. 1510
Liechtenstein, the Princely Collection / Photo by Jan, 2018
The image of the Madonna resting on a stump in the wilderness, with a cloth strung from a tree to provide a little shade, is amusingly unassuming. The Christ child waves in a friendly fashion to his cousin, John, who later became known as the Baptist. The Madonna studies a book, presumably some holy work; perhaps she reads aloud to the two children, who are more interested in each other. The composition is balanced and the coloration is rich and jewel-like.


Lucas Cranach the Younger, 1515-1586
Portrait of a Man, 1545
FAMSF / Jan's photo
This is the style of portraiture that dominated Northern Europe in the early history of art. It is solemn, but bright and richly detailed.


Ironically, as the so-called Pre-Raphaelites matured, they became interested in the artists of the late Renaissance, and even the Venetians, whose robust and sensual figures, dynamic compositions, and deep shadows are a far cry from the work of Piero di Cosimo, or even Botticelli.

Paolo Veronese, 1528-1588
Lucrezia, c. 1580
Kunsthistoriches, Vienna / Photo by Jan, 2018
Lucrezia was a heroine of Roman legend, who was an exemplar of honor and courage because she killed herself after she was raped. The Pre-Rapaelites liked the rich coloration of the Venetians and the idea of using a female figure to represent virtue.


The Founders of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood

William Holman Hunt was a versatile artist who pursued various aspects of Pre-Raphaelite aesthetics over the course of a long career.

William Holman Hunt, 1827-1910
Valentine Reproaching Proteus for His Falsity, 1851
The Makins Collection / Photo by Jan, 2018
As part of a movement that was both literary and artistic, the PRB was initially devoted to illustrating medieval legends. This legend of Valentine as a medieval knight is not known to me, but the story is pretty clear: Valentine is in the center with the wronged damsel in a flowered apron kneeling on the ground, and Proteus on the right, also kneeling and hanging his head. The figure on the left is probably the knight's servant.


William Holman Hunt, 1827-1910
The Hireling Shepherd, c. 1853
The Makins Collection / Photo by Jan, 2018
This painting from two years later has a simple, beautifully balanced composition (with cultivation on the right and herding on the left),  jewel-like tones, crisp details even the the distance, and an instantly readable narrative.


William Holman Hunt, 1827-1910
Henry Wentworth Monk, 1858
National Gallery, Ottawa / Jan's photo, 2018
This is a portrait of a Canadian mystic that Hunt met in Jerusalem. He is represented as a modern version of an Early European portrait, such as the example by Lucas Cranach the Younger, above. Notice that the mystic holds a rolled up copy of the London times, as well as a holy book.


William Holman Hunt, 1827-1910
Isabella and the Pot of Basil, 1867
Private Collection / Jan's photo, 2018
Reflecting his devotion to poetry, Hunt here depicts a scene from a poem by John Keats, an English romantic poet of the previous generation. Isabella is mooning over this pot of basil because it contains the severed head of her murdered lover, a rather creepy idea to moderns. Hunt elaborated the idea by placing the pot on a richly inlaid altar topped by a gold brocade cloth. A pearlescent water pitcher sits below. Notice that far from being prim and formal, Isabella is a voluptuous figure, in a semi-transparent nightgown, much more like the heroines of Venetian painting.


William Holman Hunt, 1827-1910
Bianca, 1869
Worthing Museum / Jan's photo, 2018
Here Hunt goes for a full-blown tribute to the Venetian portraits of idealized women, abandoning complex composition and obscure stories. Bianca was a character in a play by Shakespeare, but who cares? She is the perfect modern realization of a Venetian ideal of beauty.


William Holman Hunt, 1827-1910
The Lady of Shalott, 1890s
Wadsworth Atheneum / Jan's photo, 2018
Late in his career, Hunt returned to the founding principles of the PRB in this depiction of a lyrical ballad by an English poet of the previous generation, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, one of the most popular poets of his time. It tells the story of a young noble woman who lives in a tower near Camelot, of the Arthurian legends, but she is prevented by a curse from looking at Camelot. She can view it only indirectly, through a mirror, and is further condemned to weave an image of what she sees. Here her frenzied and obsessive weaving is evoked by the thread wildly entangling her in her own work. This painting seems cluttered, confusing, and old-fashioned to the modern eye, but it has some wonderful effects. The spray of hair, activated not by the wind but by her furious work, is a beautiful pattern, and creates a mysterious, backlit cloud across the top of the image. The contrast between the dark shadows in the foreground and the brightly colored background (the scene in the mirror is more vivid in the painting than my photo), is striking and innovative. Hunt combined several unique jewel-tones and a variety of symbolism to depict the scene in sumptuous detail. This painting is considered the grand culmination of the Pre-Raphaelite agenda. 


Dante Gabriel Rossetti came from a literary family. His father was a Dante scholar, his sister Christina became a famous poet, and his brother William Michael was a member of the PRB who became an influential art critic. Dante Rossetti also established himself in the history of English poetry, but he chose painting as his profession because he thought it would make more money. He became quite successful as a painter, made a lot of money, and continued to write poetry as a pastime. Sometimes he wrote a poem to accompany a painting; sometimes he painted a picture to illustrate a poem.

Although Rossetti painted a variety of literary and medieval subjects, he had a complicated love life, and he became increasingly obsessed with painting a certain ideal type of woman—voluptuous but melancholy, dreamy and decadent. He used a variety of models as his muses, but he gave them all a similar look and attitude. Each of these women is supposed to represent a character in a certain literary work, but that's just an excuse; you don't really need to know the story to get the point.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1828-1882
Monna Vanna, 1866
Tate, London / Jan's photo, 2018
Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1828-1882
Lady Lilith, 1868
Delaware / Jan's photo, 2018
Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1828-1882
Veronica Veronese, 1872
Delaware / Jan's photo, 2018
John Everett Millais became the most prominent exponent of the PRB agenda, even though he moved toward greater realism in less than a decade. He was criticized for abandoning his principles, but his later paintings were very popular, and he became one of the wealthiest artists of his day.

John Everett Millais, 1829-1896
Mariana, 1851
Tate London / Photo by Jan, 2018
This painting from early in his career (he was 22) is the perfect embodiment of the Pre-Raphaelite aesthetic, using a jewel-tone palette and depicting a scene from a literary source. Mariana started as a character from Shakespeare's play Measure for Measure. Alfred, Lord Tennyson then wrote a poem about her. It seems she has been abandoned by her fiancé for lack of a dowry, and she is passing the time by making a tapestry at table near a window. When she stands to stretch her back, she is supposed to be saying, "My life is dreary—He cometh not!"


John Everett Millais, 1829-1896
The Ransom, 1862
Getty / Photo by Jan, 2018
The story in this painting is marvelously clear and its source is clearly literary. The knight in shining armor is ready to give precious jewels to the brigand on the right, for the return of two young girls, presumably his daughters. On the left side of the picture, a page or footman has the ransom note, and a fur rug to cover the girls for the carriage ride home. Between the knight and the brigand is a friend or supporter of the knight who has a bag of gold at hand.


John Everett Millais, 1829-1896
Leisure Hours, 1864
Getty / Jan's photo, 2018
Here again are two young girls, but this is a straight-forward portrait commission, with no narrative or medieval elements. It's possible there is some symbolism in the fishbowl, which seems out of place.


John Everett Millais, 1829-1896
Christ in the House of His Parents, c. 1866
Private collection / Jan's photo, 2018
The humble, naturalistic detail of this painting is appealing to the modern eye: the way Millais has imagined Joseph's workshop, with tools hanging on the wall, lumber stacked out back, and shavings littering the floor is charming. Joseph has two young helpers (possibly Jesus' siblings), and it looks like Mary's mother Anne is also helping, or perhaps just looking on. Jesus has been trying to help assemble the door, but he has driven a nail into his hand. Mary is comforting him with a kiss, as mothers do. Millais' interpretation of this situation in the New Testament was considered blasphemous by many of his' contemporaries because the characters looked too ordinary and familiar. The controversy made the painting very famous, but was divisive to the Pre-Raphaelites. I was struck by the herd of white cattle and sheep looking on with concern.


The Second Generation of Pre-Raphaelites

The second generation of Pre-Raphaelites includes John Roddam Spencer Stanhope,  Edward Burne-Jones, and Burne-Jones' friend, the designer William Morris.

John Roddam Spencer Stanhope painted two of the most remarkable paintings in the exhibition.

John Roddam Spencer Stanhope, 1829-1908
Robins of Modern Times, c. 1860
Private collection / Jan's photo, 2018
This painting is so unusual it is nearly surreal. The central section is a dark blob, forcing your eyes around the perimeter. The landscape and rocks are exceptionally naturalistic. But why is this girl on the ground? Did she fall to the ground and drop her apples? Was she cavorting about the countryside wearing a floral wreath and paused for a nap or a daydream? There is a robin with a red breast in the lower right, who seems about to put a leaf on her; a dull-colored robin can barely be distinguished on the left, also taking a leaf her way. The title adds to the puzzlement—the painting is not really about robins, is it?


John Roddam Spencer Stanhope, 1829-1908
Love and the Maiden, 1877
FAMSF / Jan's photo, 2018
This painting is a perfect re-interpretation of Botticelli's aesthetic, as shown in Primavera and The Birth of Venus. The composition is balanced, the figures are graceful, the theme is mythical and romantic, every detail is carefully defined. Perhaps the most remarkable aspect is that Stanhope was able to use oil paint to imitate the effect of fresco and egg-tempera painting, techniques that Botticelli used himself.


Edward Burne-Jones was both an artist and a designer. He was a protege of Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

Edward Burne-Jones, 1833-1898
The Heart of the Rose, 1889
Agnew's / Jan's photo, 2018
This painting seems very unpleasant to me because of the dark coloration and the way the green of the woman's dress blends into the bush. The story comes from a poem by Chaucer written in the Middle Ages. The black-robed figure on the left is supposed to be a pilgrim; the black-winged figure on the right represents Love, who has led him to the Rose, personified as a woman in a rose bush. That is too obscure for me.


Burne-Jones designed some beautiful tapestries that are part of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco's excellent textile collection, one for Pomona and one for Flora. These are stock figures for decorative tapestries, with Pomona representing fruit and orchards and Flora representing flowers and springtime. 

Edward Burne-Jones, 1833-1898
Pomona, 1886
FAMSF / Jan's photo, 2018
Edward Burne-Jones, 1833-1898
Flora, 1886
FAMSF / Jan's photo, 2018

William Morris was a textile designer who was closely associated with Edward Burne-Jones and Dante Gabriel Rossetti. In 1861, these three artists and several others formed a decorative arts firm, which eventually became known as Morris & Co. This company manufactured and sold the tapestries designed by Burne-Jones. Below are two examples of tapestries designed by Morris himself. You may recognize these bold, repetitive patterns. This company still sells coveted wallpapers and fabrics.

William Morris, 1834-1896
Bird wall hanging, 1878
FAMSF / Jan's photo, 2018
William Morris, 1834-1896
Wandle, 1884
FAMSF / Jan's photo, 2018

Third Generation Pre-Raphaelites

Among the third generation of artists to become Pre-Raphaelites were three women: Marie Spartali Stillman, Evelyn De Morgan, and Kate Bunce. Although they came late to the movement, they showed particular affinity for its romantic and decorative aspects. 

Marie Spartali Stillman first became known for her stunning good looks. She was the daughter of a wealthy Greek merchant based in London, and her Grecian features gave her an exotic look to the pale British; in addition, she was over six feet tall. She was well-known among the Pre-Raphaelites, who vied to use her as a model. But after her marriage to an American journalist, she became one of the most prolific and successful artists of the movement, though she lived in both Europe and the U.S. and raised six children.

Marie Spartali Stillman, 1844-1927
Love's Messenger, 1885
Delaware / Jan's photo, 2018
This painting creates the mood of romantic melancholy sought after by Pre-Raphaelites. The woman has just received a message carried by a white bird; she keeps corn kernels on her sill for it. She has been sitting by the window to work on a tapestry. The river comes right up to the window; does she live on an island? The river is a way of pointing into the distance, where her love lies. Stillman heightened the romance by softening the edges of her figures, and using fewer fussy details than the original Pre-Raphaelites.

Evelyn De Morgan was the niece and student of John Roddam Spencer Stanhope. She is considered a follower of Dante Gabrielle Rossetti, but instead of dark and sickly images of the ideal woman, her women are fair-haired, robust, and paying attention. 

Evelyn De Morgan, 1850-1919
Flora, 1894
De Morgan Collection / Jan's photo, 2018
De Morgan's version of the stock figure of Flora, goddess of flowers, is closely related to the style of Botticelli, one of her favorite old masters. The figure's dress and stance are closely related to his Primavera, while her flowing hair recalls The Birth of Venus.


Kate Bunce was not directly connected with the Pre-Raphaelite set, which was mostly based in London. She was born and educated in Birmingham, an industrial town about halfway between London and Liverpool that had its own art academy, and even its own style. Although she did exhibit in London and all over England, as well as Birmingham, and had a successful career, she didn't achieve as wide recognition as the Londoners did. Also the Pre-Raphelite style seemed increasingly quaint in 20th century.

Kate Bunce, 1856-1927
Saint Cecilia, c. 1901
Private Collection / Jan's photo, 2018
The gorgeous robe—silken and golden—the gold leaf halo, the crisp edges and abundant detail are all expressive of Pre-Raphaelite aesthetics. Even the space is compressed vertically, like a painting by van Eyck. The head, however, looks very English, and the face shows concentration and determination, rather than the languid melancholy of the typical Pre-Raphelite idealized woman.


Conclusion

The Pre-Raphaelite school was essentially reactionary. They objected not only to conventional British painting but to modern life in general. They dreamed of an imaginary time when beauty reined supreme. But all those lonely ladies languishing in luxurious environments seem really irrelevant and quaint from the 21st century. The Pre-Raphaelites created some romantic effects in their work and it's fun to imagine the medieval world of knights and religion, but you can see why the French dominated art history in the 19th century. The French were looking outside the studio toward the real world, trying to capture the modern look, studying the effect of light and the nature of vision, and they embraced modernity, eagerly painting the newly built urban squares, railways, and bridges.

Monday, August 13, 2018

Clock Dance

Willa Drake—the protagonist of Anne Tyler's latest novel, Clock Dance—is a self-defeating, self-effacing wimp.

Tyler divided Willa's story into two parts. The first part consists of three situations in which Willa made self-defeating choices, shoot-yourself-in-the-foot type choices.

When she is eleven years old, Willa rejects both her parents in a prolonged pre-teen pout. It's easy to see why she rejects her mother: she's a moody person who sometimes leaves her family to fend for themselves, and then returns pretending that nothing has happened. Willa's anger at her mild-mannered, even-tempered father, is harder to fathom. She seems to deliberately take offense at something he says in an effort to comfort her while her mother is gone. The reader is left to wonder the real reason she gets angry and refuses his love. Is it because he is too passive to confront her mother? Because he goes along with the pretense that everything is fine? Or is it because he doesn't take seriously Willa's effort to fill the gap?

By the time she is 21, Willa is so far gone that when the passenger on one side of her in a jet airplane threatens her life with a gun, she doesn't react in any way. She doesn't scream; she doesn't question the guy about what he wants; she doesn't alert her boyfriend on the other side of her; she doesn't alert the stewardess who comes by. Her will is paralyzed. When she later tells her boyfriend, he is incredulous and discounts her story.

She and her boyfriend, Derek Macintyre, are flying to visit her parents because Derek wants to marry her. Where Willa is weak, Derek is willful and assertive. Willa wants to wait until she has finished college, but he wants to marry in the summer coming up and move to California to start his career. His plans are more important to him than her plans, which he discounts. Toward the end of their week-end visit, he announces their engagement to her parents. Her mother says all the right things: she points out that he isn't looking at Willa's side of things and what Willa would have to give up for him. And she particularly notes that Derek had brushed off Willa's story of being threatened on the airplane, because it shows how he disrespects her. Derek confronts her mother in a way that her father never could, and calmly tells her off. Instead of being strengthened by her mother's support, Willa reacts against it, and against her own best interests, by giving into Derek.

After 20 years of predictable life with Derek—giving up college to raise two sons, being the sort of dependable mom she wishes her mother had been—Willa is suddenly left to her own devices when Derek is killed in an accident caused by his own road rage. She feels helpless and incompetent, which is the way he had always treated her. She begins to wonder about the purpose of life, or simply 'why bother?' She had always wanted to be so reliable that her sons could take her for granted, but now she finds that being taken for granted is not very satisfying. She still longs for someone to take care of her, and to boss her around.

The real story, Part II, starts when Willa is 61 years old, and it opens with a call to another life, an offer she can't refuse. It takes the form of a phone call from someone who mistakenly assumes that Willa is the grandmother of an 8-year-old girl whose mother had been shot in the leg, in her neighborhood in Baltimore. She wants Willa to take care of the girl, Cheryl, while her mother, Denise, is in the hospital. Willa is now married to Peter, who is the same type as Derek, and is living the same arid retirement life in Arizona that she would have had with him. Uprooted from her world in California, Willa feels her life is meaningless and boring. When she hears of a child in need of a grandma, she can't resist the temptation to play the role. Perhaps for the first time in her life, she spontaneously makes a major decision, without consulting Peter, and books her flight to Baltimore. Her bid for independence is somewhat muted by his decision to accompany her, condescendingly assuming she can't handle the flight by herself.

Peter is fairly helpful, or at least non-interfering, but his attention is still on his own world, his business associates and golf buddies. Willa adapts to her role as grandmother, which includes adapting to a colorful cast of characters in the poor but respectable neighborhood where Cheryl and Denise live. She becomes so engrossed in her new life that she barely notices when Peter goes back to his world in Arizona. Meanwhile she is developing self-reliance—learning to drive a strange car around a strange town, learning to make decisions and choices on her own, learning to appreciate 'everyday people,' learning, for the first time, to enjoy the absence of a man to dominate her life. And the reader keeps thinking she ought to go back to her husband. Or should she?

My usual preference is for novels that are intellectually challenging, with a difficult vocabulary and complicated sentences, with big ideas and heavy drama. But sometimes I need a vacation from all that, and then I turn to Anne Tyler. Clock Dance is her 21st novel, and I have read about half of them. Her themes are positive and life-affirming, but her stories don't reek of sentimentality and preachiness because her style is so spare and understated. It's like Quaker wood furniture—functional but not fancy, well-crafted but plain. Tyler is generous with homely detail and engaging minor characters, but she is spare in her depiction of Willa's inner life. By leaving a lot unsaid, she forces the reader to use their imagination.

For me, Anne Tyler is consistently good, but never great. But that's okay. It's like simple home cooking compared to gourmet meals—sometimes that's just what I need.

Anne Tyler, 2017





Thursday, August 2, 2018

Six Degrees of Separation

The phrase "six degrees of separation" was originally coined by a popular Hungarian author and playwright, Frigyes Karinthy, to describe his theory that everyone on this planet is connected to every other person on the planet by a chain of five other people.


For instance, you are connected to your father (first degree); consider everyone he knows (second degree), and everyone they know (third degree). That's a lot of people. If you add all the people they know (fourth degree), plus all the people they know (fifth degree), plus all the people they know, you come to the sixth degree of separation, where theoretically the network includes everyone on the planet. So, somehow, you are connected with Donald Trump, and Barack Obama, and a poor woman in Africa who has never slept in a bed, and a person in  Rio undergoing chemo.

Whether or not this theory can be proven literally, it was an early declaration that all human beings are connected, all part of a network, and that idea has become ever more popular in both science and literature.

Karinthy illustrated his theory in a short story in 1929. In 1990, American playwright John Guare wrote a play to explore the connections between humans which he called Six Degrees of Separation. It was enormously popular on Broadway, having a run of 485 performances, and it was nominated for both a Pulitzer Prize for Drama and a Tony Award for Best Play.

In 1993, Guare morphed his play into that rarest of all things: a movie for unabashed intellectuals—for people who love words and ideas, who talk about books and visit art museums, who know both Shakespeare and Catcher in the Rye, or at least know about them. The script is like a Shakespearean play in that the characters recite long monologues about weighty subjects, and the protagonist, Paul—a young and handsome black street hustler who cons, or bewitches, everyone he meets—enchants his marks with a long, and surprisingly incisive critique of Catcher in the Rye, which was on everyone's must-read list at the time.

Paul (Will Smith) bewitching his marks


The way the six degrees of separation works out is that Paul first picks up a well-educated, closet-gay white guy named Trent, who quickly becomes infatuated with him. In order to keep him around, Trent tells Paul stories, like Scheherazade trying to seduce the sultan.

Paul asks Trent (Anthony Michael Hall) to tell him about his contacts.
The main thing Paul wants to know is about Trent's contacts—these would be potential marks. Trent tells Paul a story about each of the contacts in his address book, which Paul absorbs word for word. But Trent becomes inspired by a larger goal: not satisfied with being Scheherazade, he aims to be Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady by transforming Paul into a guy who can fit in with rich white people. He teaches him how to talk and what to talk about. He teaches him about books and museums and libraries, where Paul studies his victims' interests. Paul stays with Trent for about 3 months, and takes from him all his good stuff—TV, audio system, etc—but Trent doesn't resent the loss.

Trent teaches Paul correct pronunciation.
Armed with all this information, and dressed in a preppy outfit, Paul sets out to con three marks: an art dealer, a foundation manager, and a doctor—all parents of Trent's friends. Paul gains entry to their parents' homes by appearing at their doors with a stab wound and claiming to have been mugged in Central Park; he says that he came to them for help because he knew their kids at prep school. He knows so much about them and their kids, and has such a charming manner, that everyone believes him implicitly.  Once he gains entry into their homes, he tries to gain entry into their affections: he tells them that their children love them, and he tells him about his own parents, claiming that his father is Sidney Poitier—a pioneering black actor who was universally lauded in the 1990s—thus adding a hint of glamor to his persona. He spins that story further, claiming that Poitier is directing a movie of Cats, a musical that was enormously popular on Broadway, but seemed trivial to critics and intellectuals. Ramping it up, he claims he can get them parts as extras, human extras. For a New Yorker living opposite Central Park, a walk-on role in a Broadway musical is a wicked temptation.

Thematically, the point of all this is that humans are connected to each other not only by a chain of other humans, but also by a chain of common feelings. Everyone is attracted to Paul and the stories he spins. He appeals to common human needs and expresses ideas that everyone finds appealing. Paul treats his marks with more courtesy and consideration than their own children.

The movie dramatizes only one of Paul's encounters with parents; the others are reported as stories. Two of his marks take in him, give him a place to sleep and a little spending money, and then go on with their lives, leaving him alone in their homes. But the art dealers, Flan and Ouisa Kittredge, take him into their life as well as their home. They tend Paul's wound and give him their son's new pink dress shirt. They introduce him to their visitor and invite him to join them for dinner. In one extraordinary scene Paul whips up a delicious dinner for them out of odds and ends in their kitchen, while entertaining them with more stories.


With Flan and Ouisa another sort of connection is formed, a true emotional bond. Paul falls in love with the Kittredges, just as he entrances them. He wants to be like them, to know what they know, to do what they do, to be with them like a son—like a loving and devoted son, not their own resentful children. Flan manages with effort to retain some sense of detachment, but Ouisa feels an unfamiliar burst of love and affection.

Paul with the Kittredges
In addition to all these rich people, Paul cons a couple of poor young actors from Utah who are waiting tables for a living, Rick and Elizabeth. Paul not only swindles them heartlessly out of their hard-earned savings, he initiates Rick into gay sex—in a horse-drawn carriage in Central Park, no less—just for the experience. And Rick accepts the experience as something he can use in his development as an actor, or so it seems.

Paul with Rick and Elizabeth
Beneath the theme of connection is the theme of imagination and story telling. In fact, from the number of lines given to the proper use of the imagination you might think the playwright's main goal was to express his insights on this subject. Instead of being a mere vehicle for creating space fantasies and video games, Paul proposes that imagination is an essential tool for understanding ourselves and other people. The magic of a good story is illustrated both by the tales Paul tells the Kittredges and by the way Flan and Ouisa transform their interaction with him into an anecdote that fascinates their social circle.

The inherent problem with being a good con man is that you literally lose your soul—you submerge and deny your own identity, your selfhood; Paul rejects his old life on the street and loses himself in the role of rich college kid.

In addition a con man needs to be heartless—to disregard the effects his deceptions might have on his victims. Paul seduces Rick for the fun of it, without thinking of how it might affect Elizabeth. When Rick confesses all to Elizabeth, hoping she will understand, she flies into a rage and rejects him completely, whereupon he leaps off the fire escape to this death.

The effect of this is that for the first time Paul is forced to confront the fact that actions have consequences. But it is too late. The police arrest him, either for this swindle or for others, and throw him in jail. There he gets lost in the system because the Kittredges don't know his real name. Later they hear that a prisoner who fits Paul's description has hung himself in his prison cell with his shirt. It seems that lacking both a soul and a heart, Paul is unable to cope with reality.

The effect of all this on Ouisa is striking. After she and Flan have regaled their luncheon companions with this story and its poignant ending, Ouisa suddenly stands up and walks away from the table, saying, "We're turning an experience into an anecdote to entertain our friends. But it was an experience." A long closing shot shows her striding with determination down Fifth Avenue. The audience is left to wonder what it means. Is she giving up her old way of life? Why did her interaction with Paul  have such an effect on her? I think she started to see that she and Flan were also con artists—private art dealers who parlayed every experience into dinner conversation, for the sake of financial gain or social status, and like Paul, they ignored the emotional consequences of their life-style.

The movie is very much like a play. It is even divided into acts by scenic views of the city accompanied by appropriate mood music. In addition, the acting style is slightly theatrical; sometimes the actors seem to be reciting lines, rather than acting naturally. The movie's theatricality is highlighted by the glamorous, high-fashion outfits that Oisa wears in the major scenes.

The script is played with high melodrama, but a satirical attitude underlies the whole. Guare pokes gentle fun at the "elite," who live on the upper east side in Manhattan, and send their kids to Harvard, of course, and work crosswords in ink, of course. The scene where all the parents and children get together to try to figure out Paul's identity is hilarious because of the stereotypical ways each kid immediately takes offense at their questions.

Woody Kittredge (Oz Perkins) freaking out because his parents gave away his pink shirt.
All the acting is excellent, and the performances of Will Smith (as Paul), Stockard Channing (as Ouisa) and Donald Sutherland (as Flan) are riveting.

I happened to run into this movie on the MGM channel on cable TV, and having seen it in the 1990s, I recorded it. It was a rare treat to see it again.