Suzanne's Journal

12.11.01
I'm a big fan of James Lileks. I email him about once a week in response to some tidbit from his online journal/column "The Bleat" that I like. He was talking about movie director Chris Guest recently, and said:

. . . like David Mamet, he�s one of the few filmmakers I�ll watch without question, whose work I will know backwards and forwards, and about whom I will feel no great passion.

Ooh, yes! So I emailed him:

My husband thinks Rebecca Pidgeon is the worst actress he's ever seen, but I think that is the whole point of Rebecca Pidgeon -- her quirky delivery. So in our household, there is some Mamet-related passion, but it all focuses completely on his persistent use of Rebecca Pidgeon.

And then Likeks responded:

Did you see "State and Main"? Mamet directed that one like a normal movie, and she's just charming. Flat-out charming. And I say this as someone who was driven batty by all of her previous performances, particularly "The Spanish Prisoner." There's a decent actress under there, but hubby directs her in a way that appeals to him, I guess.

We haven't seen "State and Main," but have meant to. Add it to the Big Movie List of Meant Tos. We will give Rebecca Pidgeon another chance, but if she repeats even a single sentence of dialogue, we will start screaming and running around the family room in agitated circles.

Campbell Scott: "Funny old world."
Rebecca Pidgeon: "Funny old world? Dog my cats."
Scott: "Dog my cats indeed."

Actually, that's a poor example of poor dialogue, because I actually kind of liked it. I liked her flat, pointed delivery. It was weird.

And besides, Rebecca Pidgeon is a perfectly wonderful name, although somewhat difficult to remember if one is in a hurry. "You know, the girl from 'The Spanish Prisoner,' Rachel Parakeet or whatsiwhozits."

So we saw "Heist" a couple weeks ago, and I couldn't get past Rachel Parakeet's bad hair. The first thing I thought was "Wow, she has Patti LuPone hair," and then, strangely, Patti LuPone showed up in a cameo role. Maybe this was another example of Mamet's repetition? (P.S. If anyone can tell me what Patti LuPone was doing in this movie, let me know. Both the character -- what was up Betty Croft? -- and the actress -- what's she doing taking weird little cameo bits like that?)

Another eponymous coinage, Mametesque, is often used in relation to his demand that actors not "act"; in other words, that they speak their lines without analyzing and referring to other plays or films. It is an approach that tends to disorient audiences as well as actors.

I'm not sure disoriented is what we were. Irritated, maybe, after awhile. But I like the fact that he plays with language, even if I'm not always enjoying the play.

Mametspeak: the noun denotes David Mamet's signature style; rapid, rhythmic, profane yet poetic patter of streetwise raconteurs who inhabit many of his works. Besides the noun, he's got his own adjective, Mametesque: It's used to describe other writers' dialogue resembling [his] roundabout, lyrical yet menacing speech.

I wonder if he likes Gertrude Stein. Although I always got the feeling her repetition was for the joy of the sound, and the nonsense.

Stick stick call then, stick stick sticking, sticking with a chicken. Sticking in a extra succession, sticking in.

She repeated unusual, concrete imagery. The individual words have meaning (Or did, didn't they? Panic.) but they fall apart when put together. (Aside: I don't like reading Stein. At all. But I like the idea of her.)

Mamet often repeats empty rhetoric, which kind of makes you think about what these trite sayings really mean. So I guess it works.

The same could be said of Yasmina Reza's new London import "Art." The production paints a sharply defined triptych of caricatures deconstructing while awash in Mametesque polyphonic rhetoric.

Say THAT three times fast! Mametesque polyphonic rhetoric. Mametesque polyphonic rhetoric. Mametesque polyphonic rhetoric.

Another irritant [in The House of Yes] is the dialogue. It's Mamet-like without being Mametesque. As in "So you haven't told her?" "No I haven't told her." "How can you not tell her." "I'll tell her." "Do you think we should tell her?" The rat-a-tat tat of repetition is here reduced to a monotonous drone.

I don't know -- I get the feeling this reviewer just wanted to use the phrase "It's Mamet-like without being Mametesque," because that dialogue sounds Mametesque to me. Rat-a-tat tat. Rat-a-tat tat.

Maybe I'll repeat this journal entry tomorrow, in a Suzannesque fashion.