Calgary Country — Every once in a while, you need to pull the vehicle of your imagination into Hollywood’s garage and have your suspension of disbelief tested.
While vacationing at my sister’s in Nanaimo this summer, I took advantage of the only rainy day we had and watched last summer’s blockbuster hit: Spider-Man.
After I got back home and back to work -- I’m writing a new draft of a play -- the long dark shadow of doubt arrived (as he often does), casting himself over my blank pages and rendering me powerless. I needed a refuge; something loud and colourful and senseless to pound some sense back into my senses.
I found it in the big city, and traded my $10.95 for the second installment of the masked crusader and his latest nemesis. Ah, but what did I find? What indeed!
In my state of anxiety, doubting my calling and responsibilities as an artist, in the dark of the theatre temple, there was Peter Parker, 30-feet tall, doubting his calling and responsibilities as a superhero. I spin analogies as readily as he spins webbing, and the connection came through loud and clear -- this was a story about me, about doubting myself and falling on my ass every time I tried to fly.
Thirty minutes into the picture and I prided myself on money well spent for a change -- not to mention a brilliant sense of timing -- and sunk myself smiling into my seat. Then came the third act. Here the illusion broke, my suspension fell to pieces and the shadow returned.
Spidey had removed his mask, and everyone on the run-away subway train could see what I saw: He was only an actor in a silly costume. Oh sure, he still was able to stop the train and save the world –--and win the girl to boot! -- but as far as I was concerned, all of Spider-Man’s potency was gone (as was the potential for a third sequel).
Masks are incredibly powerful, especially when used in the theatre. The mask, once donned, defined the person (‘persona’ is the Latin word for mask). The notion of it hiding one’s identity is pure surface; the real reason is in the power it generates.
Hollywood should have known better. They’ve dealt well with masks in the past, and knew exactly when in the story to reveal the face behind them. They showed some respect for the historical tradition of the theatre, and profited well by it. They knew that to pull the mask off was akin to emasculation and death. Think of the greatest antagonist to ever darken the silver screen; it’s not until the end of the third movie in the Star Wars trilogy that Luke pulls the mask off Darth Vader, revealing to all the broken hint of a man curdling behind it.
Through his barefaced blunder, Sam Raimi (and company) reminded me that whatever power we superhero-artists possess comes from not only our ability to believe in ourselves and take our responsibilities seriously, but in how the rest of the world perceives us. One may have its foot more in truth, the other in illusion, but we need both feet firmly planted in order to stand at all.
Self-doubt will come and go, Peter Parker, I know it well. Good on you for working through it. But when I’m stuck on a train that’s charging full steam ahead into the endless darkness of the Hudson River, it’s not your face I want to see.

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