Donna consulted her twenty-dollar electric Timex wristwatch, which he had given her. “About thirty-eight minutes. Hey.” Her face brightened. “Bob, I got the wolf book with me — you want to look at it now? It’s got a lot of heavy shit in it, if you can dig it.”
“Life,” Barris said, as if to himself, “is only heavy and none else; there is only the one trip, all heavy. Heavy that leads to the grave. For everyone and everything.”
Philip K. Dick’s doper Odyssey A Scanner Darkly pieces together very neatly the drugstore cowboy nostalgia that’s gone missing since Irvine Welsh put clean living to the test with his cynical contribution to drug folklore, Trainspotting. The dissociative principles undergirding the narrative focus on consciousness and being, but the ontological issues at the book’s core attempt to connect cognition to history. Like Trainspotting, A Scanner Darkly reads as cautionary tale, but not without the world-weariness inherent in the genre.
Richard Linklater’s forthcoming adaptation does all it can to connect the story to its futuristic mid-nineties setting with Keanu Reeves, Winona Ryder, Woody Harrelson and Robert Downey, Jr. in lead roles, embodying the beautifully paranoid. But hasn’t junkie chic, Pete Doherty notwithstanding, come to a close some time ago, giving way in turn to ecstasy, then prescription anti-depressants and painkillers, followed by cocaine’s unlikely return? If there’s something Trainspotting really got right it was the sense that as the scene changed from slumming in opium squalor and scuzz punk, it morphed into dot com opulence, a cash buzz of incandescence, house music and psychotropics crept in seemingly overnight, and where everywhere at once.
The immediacy with which heroin vanished from its reified mainstream idyll as public enemy number one, having but briefly updated Percy Bysshe Shelley for modern times, came just as the political antagonisms of the first Bush Presidency matriculated through America’s collective veins. As an uncertain public struggled to cope with recession and a youth culture that worshipped in the secular temples of grunge and gangster rap, each alienated mainstream America in its own way. Suddenly Kurt Cobain’s suicide cemented in the public’s imagination the real, personal evil that drugs wrought on gifted and guileless alike, without prejudice. The sense of isolation that accompanied that period was a real one, but it can be difficult to remember after the Feel Good Era vacuum that cleaned up America contractually ca. 1996.
Perhaps when viewed through Special Agent Fred’s (a.k.a. Bob Arctor and vice versa) bifurcated lens we can see his distorted view of justice through the State’s paternalistic eye. Maybe by putting into perspective The War on Drugs and the moralistic notion of locus of control, there’s a way to look into the recent past to see where America has gotten by criminalizing the sick and poor, offering but a dim light for those fortunate enough to escape the grip of addiction. Dick’s epilogue notes that it was excess and not the thing itself that destroyed the Huxley-esque daydream. For a culture that has replaced experimentation with abstinence, how will this jibe with paranoaic ignorance at-large?
Unless Linklater can reconcile this story with an America so deeply engrained with “values” and “morality” that willful ignorance has become something worth celebrating, it will fall on deaf ears. Perhaps more importantly, it points up how films like The Crow, Singles and Reality Bites will be viewed. The cinematic statements from the early to mid-nineties that started to express in casual, apolitical terms the problems faced by Generation X seem almost quaint now. So is it as bleak as Dick predicted? Are we but agents pro and contra, all at once, self-destructing in a brief arc?
Flaming Lips — “Pompeii am Götterdämmerung”
Ghostface Killah — “Kilo”
Sonic Youth — “Pattern Recognition”
One response to “Is it getting heavy?”
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