A Miracle Drug

One of my favorite songs released in the past few years is Miracle Drug by U2. It’s impossible to not be swept up by Bono’s sincerity in songs like this; his commitment to the subject turns simple words and a tune into something bigger than they actually are. (You can listen to the song by selecting it in the music player here.)

I admit that I’m a sucker for a great love song. I usually prefer the ones with unconventional angles or alternative themes, but when there’s genuine emotion I quickly find some aspect of it to which I can relate. So this song immediately made sense to me, I think I even put it on a mix-tape for my wife as part of a Valentines’ Day gift. The song works incredibly well as a sort of love letter (see the lyrics below).

While Miracle Drug is a love song, it’s not about a romantic love, rather it is a tribute to Christopher Nolan. And not the Christopher Nolan who directed Batman Begins and The Dark Knight, but the cerebral palsy stricken Irish-born Christopher Nolan.

Christopher Nolan’s body was deprived of oxygen for two hours at birth, leaving him unable to control his muscle movements. His arms would randomly flail about, he was confined to a wheelchair that he couldn’t even push about, and most frustrating he could not speak. He communicated with glances of eyes or the tapping of feet. His family, undeterred, enrolled him in a regular school and actively participated in his daily development. His sister sang songs and acted out plays for him. His mother taught him the alphabet while doing chores around the house. She would keep a continual flow of conversation going whenever he was within earshot. His father read to him James Joyce, D.H. Lawrence, William Butler Yeats.

And then, the Miracle Drug. At age 11 Christy was given Lioresal, a pharmaceutical used to treat spastic muscle movement. It allowed him to gain some control over isolated muscles in his neck. His head was fashioned with a rubber-tipped “unicorn stick”, and he craned and struggled to use it to point to the letters on a typewriter. He spelled out his thoughts and feelings, even though a single word could take 15 minutes to write. With so much to say he eventually assembled these words into stories, poems, an autobiography, a play, even a novel. After being silent for so long, he was able to express his ideas about church visits, family field trips, even the stuffing of a turkey became something fabulous in his writing. Any experience could be converted into something lyrical and poetic.

“My mind is just like a spin dryer at full speed. My thoughts fly around my skull, while millions of beautiful words cascade down into my lap. Images gunfire across my consciousness and, while trying to discipline them, I jump in awe of the soul-filled beauty of the mind’s expanse.”

Christy’s family adjusted their lives so that he could attend Mount Temple Comprehensive School. The school is a progressive and multi-denominational school in Dublin whose curriculum is “based upon a Christian, civilized and caring tradition” and whose ethos is “All of us are different, all of us are equal.” Coincidentally, upon has arrival at Mount Temple the future members of U2 were just completing their studies there. His indelible impression inspired them to later write the song Miracle Drug.

At the age of 15 a collection of his poems was published, titled Dam-Burst of Dreams. It included poems he had written from as early as the age of 12, with themes of faith, hope, humor and determination. He later won the Whitbread prize for Under the Eye of the Clock, an autobiography told in the third person that detailed his life at Mount Temple. He adapted the novel into a play titled Torchlight And Lazer Beams. His only novel was The Banyan Tree, a family saga detailing the 80 year life of a single mother, paying particular homage to her spirit of individuality and the strength of her will.

Christy eventually became a vocal proponent of the disabled, eschewing pity and sentimentality about his physical predicament. He instead wanted to direct the conversation of the disabled to focus on lives filled with “life, laughter, vision, and nervous normality.” Instead of dwelling the inabilities, he wanted to encourage the accomplishments. “My body is strangled. But my body never strangled me.”

On February 20, 2009, while at work on a second novel, Christopher Nolan ingested food into his airway and passed away. He was 43. His family released a statement that read “oxygen deprivation returned to take the life it had damaged more than 40 years ago.” Despite the damage, it is a severe understatement to say that his life was an inspiration.

So listen to Miracle Drug again, but listen to it with a new perspective. The song is beautiful and genuine, and while it is very moving as a love song, it is moreso a fitting tribute to Christopher Nolan. The miracle isn't just in the medicine, it's in the fact the Christopher's family believed in what was inside of him before even he did.

Jon & Kate Plus Me! or The Play's The Thing

One aspect of the tabloid news cycle (and “THE BLOGOSHPERE” ) that has been particularly unforgiving is the recent media coverage of Jon & Kate. If for some reason you haven’t already been inundated with Jon & Kate stories, first, lucky you, and second, here’s a quick recap. Jon and Kate Gosselin have 8 kids, a set of twins and set of sextuplets. They are the stars of a reality TV series that airs on TLC, Jon & Kate Plus 8, in which cameras follow them around to observe the challenges of parenting of such a large brood. The parents review and comment on their daily joys, fights, accomplishments, challenges, and all the madness that comes with raising eight kids. The show is essentially an exhibition of a super-sized suburban existence.

Jon and Kate’s personal lives came under even greater scrutiny when details about their marital difficulties were leaked. We have since been updated daily on rumors and speculation as to the causes of their differences and the extent of their rift. Such invasive coverage is nothing new for tabloids, right? Jon & Kate had voluntarily surrendered their privacy when they signed on to do a television show, allowing cameras into their home and inviting viewers to observe their family. Their on-screen drama and off-screen lack of discretion seem to be customized for tabloidization, it’s the blessing and curse of being on TV and the public’s corresponding fascination with celebrity.

It is easy to write off this program and most Reality TV as vulgar, trite and voyeuristic. But why are there so many Reality TV shows and why do we watch them? Why has the story of Jon & Kate’s separation (and other similar “news” stories) transcended tabloid media and become the subject for more reputable media outlets? What attracts us to the gossip, and the conflict, and the fabricated authenticity? Why is our attention so easily captivated by the inconsequential actions of people we do not know, with whom we often disagree, and with whom we may have relatively little in common?

Cult of Celebrity certainly plays a factor, however unhealthy that may be. Many programs are entertaining, presented in a captivating pace and hypnotic cadence. The series are complete with attractive people, catchy music, and outrageous situational drama. We evaluate our own lives by comparing them with the lives of those onscreen. The characters are objectified and analyzed and their successes (and more often their failures) give us a close-up on all they do, be it good or bad. We watch the morality plays unfold and pronounce our judgments over water-cooler conversations. Our life-choices are validated by viewing the outrageous goings-on of the crazies on the telly…for instance, I might make some silly choices now and again, but I would never do things as petty as those kooky Kardashians! We cheer for the underdog, marvel at the amazing, and laugh at the unaware. However dysfunctional I may think my personal relationships are, I can tune in to MTV’s The Real World for a couple of minutes and quickly realize how happy and functional I actually am. Some shows involve a circus side-show element (Little People, Big World, LA Ink), an instructional theme (Flip This House, What Not To Wear), or a competition on which viewers may or may not actively have a role in determining the outcome (American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance).

The above listing of why we watch Reality TV is far from comprehensive. It’s exhausting but not exhaustive. But one of my favorite reasons that we watch Reality TV is that it is a modernized version of a Shakespearean play. You don’t agree? The lady doth protest too much, methinks. Certainly Reality TV is entirely void of Shakespeare’s poetry, its contribution to the English language doesn’t compare (see this clip from the lovely Whitney Houston or any clip of a mumbling Ozzy Osbourne), and I doubt most reality TV programs will stand the test of time. But there are plenty of similarities between Reality TV and Shakespeare’s works. Here’s the rub on a few of those:
The Bard is heralded as an unparalleled accounting of true human character. But Reality TV also gives us an unfiltered view of human character, and in many of the same ways. We observe characters in each genre pursuing love, fame, fortune and power and the lengths to which they will go to acquire these things. There are villains and heroes, confronted with decisions that will affect ultimately everyone in their respective worlds, for better or worse. The most memorable of Shakespeare’s characters are remembered for either their greatest accomplishments or their epic failures, and likewise the characters that are most remarkable from Reality TV are remarkable for either being shown at their honorable best or their unforgiving worst.
Both formats incorporate the colloquial of their time, presented in the prevalent medium of their respective era (Theatre vs. Television). Shakespeare gives us personalized monologues in the form of soliloquies; Reality TV gives us similar monologues in the form of interviews. Each format gives the audience glimpses into the inner thoughts of the principle players, giving context to the decisions they make, however great or small.

The storylines of the Bard and Reality TV have similarities as well. Do you fancy the teenage love story of Romeo and Juliet? These two star crossed adolescents of privilege attend celebratory balls and vie for love in a life of comfort that today is the equivalent of an episode of The Hills (minus the double suicide). The themes from Othello (infidelity, jealousy, suspicion) aren’t too dissimilar from the themes showcased on Cheaters (or the recent fascination with the previously mentioned Jon & Kate). Falstaff wooing the Merry Wives of Windsor is just a slightly more traditional version of the Bachelor (a cad attempting to woo one of a number of eligible and willing young women). There are attempts by Wife Swap husbands to Tame one another’s Shrews, alliances are made on Survivor to take out power players much like Brutus and Cassius conspiring to take out Julius Caesar, and there is enough cross-dressing in any number of Shakespeare’s plays (take your pick) to fill any one of Bravo’s Reality programs (again, take your pick). Shakespeare is everywhere.

So as Jon & Kate continue to play out their true-to-life Comedy of Errors, and as we viewers continue to laugh at and moralize upon and pronounce judgment from afar, let us not forget that truth is stranger than fiction and there is reality to be found in the invented story. Even without Shakespeare’s artistic prose and unmatched understanding of human nature, Reality TV does accurately portray elements of human nature. Even if these are half-truths, there’s much to be gleaned from the fabricated truths of faux-Reality-TV. Whether it’s on the small-screen or on the stage, The Play’s The Thing.