Fritz il gatto

The bad thing about the past is that it is designed to fool you.

The idea is supposed to be that the past stays fixed, as a sort of "truth." And we change. But viewed from ourselves, often the illusion or even the truth is the reverse. We know who we are. We think we recall who we were -- which we envision is some state on the way to who we are. Something relatively static, which means that the past changes. Radically.

Or at least artifacts from the past change, artifacts like movies. All this is complicated by the fact that movies are a key tool we use to define ourselves.

So it is a strange trip indeed to encounter something that DID define us, that we allowed to tell us who we were. And to find it so vacuous, so superficial it shocks.

If you were not a hippie in that era you may need to know the great schisms at work. (I mean the era depicted here -- 1969 -- not the actual date of the movie.)

You had the east coast hippies who were the sons and daughters of the beat generation. We were interested in ideas and art, and life as both. You had the "political" hippies, who were motivated by unhappiness and determined to change what they didn't like in the name of the values of more "genuine" hippies.

And then you had the west coast hippies. These were the ones captured by drugs, "free" sex and dropping out. To differentiate themselves, they adopted the icons of death.

At the time, there was as much confusion among these three as between any one of them and the Nixonites. (This was in the days of the "moral majority" and before the rise of the religious right which evolved from it.)

And where there is is identity confusion, art rushes in. The Beatles of course, and central. Eastern "religions."

And R Crumb.

Crumb was a magnet, pulling many from the other camps into the west coast sphere. He made it seem less radical than it was -- more about cruising (which he called "truckin") and simply enjoying the cornucopia of round women God places there only for pleasure.

We bought it, all of us. It was a sort of commercial identity, sort of like what you see today that surrounds Valentine's day. A vague notion of self and others and satisfied living.

Now, we look at this and it seems the past has moved away from us, away from truth. Was this ever good, or did we only pretend it so because we were so hungry to be defined?

I recently saw a Mickey Rooney movie where he introduces himself to Judy Garland as "white, free and available." I recoiled. I rejected that past. I had nearly the same feeling when watching this, even though it is/was my past.

Ted's Evaluation -- 1 of 3: You can find something better to do with this part of your life.