Addison DeWitt Would Not Be Amused
Colin Mitchell | May 10, 2010 | Comments 19 |
We recently brought attention to a rather controversial article called Stop Dicking Around over at LA Theatre Review written by a person named “Addison DeWitt”. You can read that post here.
A while back (Feb. 2009) we highlighted another “Addison DeWitt” article entitled 99 Enemies to the Theatre. Funny piece, check it out if you can. What I’d like to discuss in this post, however, is not the substance of either article so much, but rather the author, and the author’s decision to use a nom de plume – basically, to remain anonymous and hide behind the name “Addison DeWitt”.
I have to admit my ignorance here, I did not know who Addison DeWitt was until just today, so the fact that this author was using a “fake” name didn’t occur to me until, well, today. I know, I know, the shame. The film All About Eve is always at the top of my “see now” list and I always – er – lose that list. It’s like the one great film I still have yet to see. Soon! Anyway, Addison DeWitt is a fictional newspaper critic in that film who basically narrates the story. He’s very droll, very dry, very witty. He’s a character.
Only recently I returned to read the earlier “Addison DeWitt” (our author in question at LATR) article and what caught my attention more than anything was the discussion that had occurred in the comment section. “Addison DeWitt” gets called about by not one, but two of the commenters to come out from behind his “cowardly” shelter-of-a-name. Here is his/her first response:
Addison DeWitt says:March 2, 2009 at 9:04 pmDear… Max, is it?Harumph.Color me stunned that you managed to recognize the character name under which I have chosen to write, but also managed, somehow, to not piece together the why or the wherefore of its utilization. It is becoming rampantly evident that wit, irony, analytical skills and humor have all gone the way of Dodo. So, let me spell it out for you.It is ironic, intentional, and not a little amusing to use this name.You see, Max, all big cities are actually small towns. They are filled with the same small minds and massive egos that make the smaller burbs swelteringly oppressive. Big city dwellers convince themselves that since they live in a large metropolitan area, and ply their various trades in a clamoring atmosphere of pot-melting influences and cultures, they are automatically immune to small town thinking and judgement. And, as a result, believe themselves to be automatically cosmopolitan and forward-thinking. Nothing could be further from the truth. Especially in the miniscule world of small theatre.I am a known commodity in the theatre world. People know me and pretend they don’t. Others don’t but pretend they do. The majority embrace me while still others avoid me when I walk down the street. Either way, my opinions are usually either welcomed without any counter arguement whatsover, or dismissed like so much dishwater. Neither is appropriate. The individual’s reaction tends to depend solely on one’s ever-changing opinion of me, and/or my work, and/or my reputation, and/or the mealy gossip of the day.When approached to write for this new internet site, I agreed heartily but made it clear that my contributions of all thoughts theatrical would be, for the sake of clearer communication, written under a nom de plume. A “pen name” for the lay(wo)men. And so it is. As I have longed for the days when an Addison DeWitt would return to the stage pages, having labored heavily under the sodden pens of lesser writers for years, I have chosen in admiration, in homage, and with tongue firmly planted in my cheek, to fill that void myself. If not now, when? If not me, then whom, indeed?My writings here will be free of any other person’s opinion. The voice one hears as one reads my words will be untarnished by any founded or unfounded opinions one has of my person or personality. I hope you take my words to heart and know that I, like Addison DeWitt himself, care for, dream of, dwell in, fight for and cherish nothing but the theatre. And all it can and should be.My column is mine and no one else’s. And I don’t write reviews. I leave that to Mr. Hoff and the others.Yours drippingly,Addison DeWitt
Addison DeWitt says:March 23, 2009 at 8:26 pm“Ryan”,Ahem. On what, exactly, are you basing your assumption that what I’m writing or not writing is a result of some kind of “fear”? (#8) Reading again my response to “Max” I’m hard-pressed to find any mention of my being frightened of anything or anyone. Perhaps I misread myself. Would you more clearly point out the boots in which I am, apparently, shaking? Or are you displaying symptoms of number 20?I clearly state my justified reasons for anonymity: “When approached to write for this new internet site, I agreed heartily but made it clear that my contributions of all thoughts theatrical would be, for the sake of clearer communication, written under a nom de plume.” For the “sake of clearer communication”. This, so that those who might know me professionally but not care for my work practices, for example, might be able to read my words without the fog of personal abhoration clouding their eyes. I don’t believe I state that I am “afraid” I won’t be able to communicate. Or that I am “frightened” of what people might think or do. All this to say, “Ryan”, that you need to point out more clearly to me where I am exhibiting fear-based traits. Un tôt vous remercie.As pertaining to my employment of number 30, self-indulgence, I confess to erring in that direction as a direct result of hoping to reflect the original Addison DeWitt’s writing style and theatrical panache. I confess. Guilty as charged. I do, however, point you further to rule number 99, of which I am, most confidently, not guilty. And never claimed to be.Yours fancifully,Addison DeWitt
Filed Under: colin mitchell • featured • ponderings
The “real” Addison had a fatal flaw, and that was a fascination with women of low character. First was Miss Caswell, a bouncy blonde who he squired to Margo Channing’s welcome home party for Bill. He knew he was being judged for draping a mindless piece of arm candy on his tuxedo jacket, and so preempted the sniggers by dismissing Miss Caswell as a “graduate of the Copacabana School of Dramatic Art,” and then sending her off to do her magic on producer Max Fabian, while he remained with the adults, downing martinis. Then, and not so easily sloughed off, came Eve Harrington whose amoral ruthlessness actually increased his lust for her, and yet tortured him: “That I should want you at all suddenly strikes me as the height of improbability.” In other words, it is clear no one is going to taunt Mr. DeWitt out of his anonymity, however we might be able to tempt him into indiscretion by putting before him a siren of dubious morals. This bears further thinking. And Colin, you will not be returning to my good graces until I am satisfied you have sat down and absorbed, not watched, but ABSORBED “All About Eve.” Without it, you cannot be said to be a cultured man; it is that simple. Each generation loses more of the trappings of a proper education, and it is the job of those like me who have overcome the limitations of their own degraded education to help those who are suffering under even more appalling circumstance. No art is more demanding of a thorough and catholic education than theater – an education that cannot be acquired in academia – but must be sought out and chased down in spite of the endless distractions of mediocrity. Enjoy the film – it’s one of the greats.
I sit chastened and shamed in front of my computer screen. All About Eve will be the next film I view. And I will watch it again immediately after I finish it. Consider it absorbed.
Wait. “Siren of dubious morals”? Sarah! We need to use you as bait!
If you study it carefully, you will see that Ms. Ellis is included in my indictment of what passes for “education” in today’s world. I consider it a personal goal to goad her into getting rid of the blarney of academic dead-speak before it turns her vibrant creative juices into so much meaningless blather. I may throw the both of you a pop quiz on All About Eve and require you each demonstrate to me an ability to manufacture a proper martini, one that I would deign to drink before I have further intercourse with either of you. You cannot be a rube in this business, not in any sense of the word, and having myself been through UCLA, I know there is nothing faux sophistication that permeates the College of Fine Arts. We must find our Miss Caswell elsewhere, Colin. This Addison DeWitt – to quote from Mankiewicz’ seminal screenplay – “is nobody’s fool, least of all yours.”
I think I need a cigarette.
Oh believe me, Trevor, I’m doing my best to balance my “education” – I know the pitfalls far too well. It’s something I learned from Manny Azenberg, with a little help from Tom Stoppard: “Happiness is equilibrium: shift your weight.” I love academia, but it can suck the life education out of you – which is ultimately much more important.
I posted about my emotional re-education in my first blog entry. It’s why I keep music directing and composing and interacting with the world outside the university – including the ongoing dialogue here! (It’s also why I use “I” in my blog, to rehash a fun old debate!) I’ve learned more just by experiencing LA than I have in my proper university education.
http://staylorellis.wordpress.com/2010/01/14/hello-world/
And All About Eve is now in my Netflix queue. (I’m only 23 … can’t blame me too much for not having seen all the greats yet!)
On cigarettes: Oh, I would kill for one, but had to give them up a few years back so that journeying to the Rockies or the Alps would not become a physical impossibility. I yearn for the smell of pine and the sound of glacier-fed babbling brook. Somehow the stench of automobile exhaust and the tiresome noise of leftist political cant does not provide adequate substitute.
Miss Ellis, this is why I have great hope for you; why I despair when I see you descend into academic jargon, and yet find my spirits buoyed when I see you fighting the stultifying effects of an sit together and compare notes; and I will tell you of when it was I who brought the orchestras into the pits of Freud Playhouse and ran the musicals thereon performed, my time on the UCLA faculty, and how I escaped to become the dazzling sophsiticate I am now. It is a harrowing tale, full of intrigue, subterfuge, and outsized courage.
P.S. I have no idea what happens to my prose when I hit the “SUBMIT COMMENT” button, but for some reason, Bitter Lemons selects an arbitrary line and erases it just for the sheer joy of screwing with one. I wrote, “…I see you fighting the sultifying effects of a UCLA education. Someday, you and I will sit together and compare. . .”
We’ve installed a “quality control” device in our comment section, Trev. It’s intuitive. Clearly that section just didn’t pass muster. Heh.
I’m glad there’s hope for me yet – and Trevor, would love to hear your UCLA experiences sometime!
Let me address Colin about “Mr. DeWitt” for a moment, then you can continue your discourse about discourse, which is fascinating. We have disagreed in the past and probably will again. We always do it respectfully and I love the discussion and the opportunity for discussion, as I’ve said.
I must admit that, when we first started discussing the essays in question, I too had a problem with someone using a nom de plume, although not nearly as vehement an objection as you do. My first thought was that it was hiding. I also couldn’t quite understand the impulse. I am self-centered enough that I want my name on everything, even if I haven’t written it. (An exaggeration, don’t start looking for anything I’ve actually stolen.) I also thought and think that a reader must know the person behind an opinion if he is to respect the opinion. It’s why I encourage our LATR reviewers to include a little of themselves in their reviews.
I was persuaded otherwise for a lot of the reasons that Mr. DeWitt mentions in the response to Max. It is the ideas, here, not the person behind them, that matter. If you agree with the ideas, the person who says them isn’t important. Equally so if you disagree with them.
I do agree that hiding behind the anonymity of the Internet is cowardly if what you are doing is attacking someone specifically. That’s called trolling. I don’t think that is the case here at all. I think it a valid choice, and, as a recent person named Greg commented on the 99 Enemies piece,
“By the way, for those who seek to criticize anonymity, anonymity for purposes of job protection and to avoid author prejudging has a long & honorable history; I’d cite Publius, Primary Colors, atrios & digby, among others. In other words, deal with Mr. deWitt’s argument on its own terms. He has his reasons for being anonymous. (Those who think I’m sucking up can note my polite, but wordy, disagreement with Mr. DeWitt’s latest essay.)”
It is not, as you say, ball-less to use a made up name. Ann Landers is a made up name, one used, now, by two distinct people. And people know it is a made up name, or could if they care to look. Her advice is no more or less apt because of it. There is even much supposition that Shakespeare was a nom de plume, not that I want to get into that right now. Addison DeWitt is an obvious nom de plume. There is no attempt to be coy about it. If the person had chosen a really ordinary name, you would never have known and it would never have mattered to you. That one so obvious was used is part of the point.
Colin, I think you are (to use a horribly hackneyed phrase) cutting off your nose to spite your face. You say you like what the person had to say, the wit with which it is said, and that you mostly agreed with it. Saying Mr. DeWitt’s name will never more grace these pages is a little childish, sort of like stamping your foot and taking your red wagon home so no one else can play.
Okay, back to the regularly scheduled repartee.
I don’t really disagree with any of this, Geoff, but I do and have always had a problem with “anonymous sources” and nom de plumes for all of the reasons I cited. And granted, when it comes to the Internet, do we really know if anyone is really who they say they are? I mean, we’ve never met – so who the hell am I to you Geoff, except a lot of words and ideas?
But I do feel like someone needs to make a stand. It’s difficult in this age of political correctness where most people are afraid to speak out in the fear of tarnishing their reputation or burning bridges – but, hell, I’m doing it, and so are you. It’s one of the reasons I was so proud and supportive of Steve Fife coming out and blasting Kessler and putting his name to it. As you can se, it carries weight and integrity – it means something, a name to the words.
I’m just challenging Addison to do the same. I know he won’t, but until he does, no more press over h’ya.
Addison has something to lose from naming him/herself. You have everything to gain by being forthright with your identity. I think there’s a stark difference there. It’s easy for you to say ‘don’t be a coward’ when you don’t have a career on the line. In fact, I think the practice could solve one of the ongoing debates on this site and others of why playwrights don’t review plays. A little anonymity can go a long way to preserving the honesty and professional distance that an otherwise conflicted participant may face. It also allows for unmitigated snark, but anyone who knows Addison knows he/she doesn’t lack for that under any name.
Yo D – if that’s really your name – why do you assume that i have nothing to lose and “don’t have a career on the line”? I’ve been working as a professional in the entertainment industry for over 20 years and continue to do so. Is it because I’m not “famous” or a self-proclaimed “known commodity in the theatre world”? I’m certainly known in LA theatre. If I criticize a critic I certainly leave myself open to the possibility that that critic will then turn vindictive and give one of my plays a bad review just out of spite. If I criticize a theatre company I certainly leave myself open to the possibility that they won’t consider one of my plays – even if they like it – simply as retribution. If i call out a known actor or director in the film industry and then one of my screenplays lands on their desk and they hear what I’ve said about them – guess where that screenplay is going to land? The circular file. Even if it’s been recommended by everyone. If you think these scenarios are far-fetched than you’re being naive and clearly have no clue who I am or my professional history.
I simply just don’t give a shit what people think about me anymore. I’m tired of playing the politically correct game, I have things to say and I’m saying them. Doesn’t detract from the artistic goals I still have for myself – although there are only a certain amount of hours in the day – but I’m just not going to play that game anymore. This town has an insidious way of forcing people to play to an image and a brand, rather than just being who they are and saying what they think. Not gonna do it.
So sorry, D, still don’t buy it. I would even argue that “Addison” has everything to gain because of who he or she is – if they truly are this “known commodity” then their words and ideas would carry that much more weight in the theatre world and have a much greater impact. I still call it cowardice and the easy way out. The old adage still rules, “Nothing risked, nothing gained”.
I think you might overestimate the power of online criticism. It simply isn’t as important as the work itself, and if the venting of our collective frustrations about our industry and the people in it endangers our ability to do that work, it isn’t worth it.
My first name is David, by the way.
The fact that this conversation and so many others like it have been filled up with ad hominem jabs and controversy is exactly why there are such frequent calls for ‘true’ critics. They can provide perspective without all the drama. I, for one, enjoy the drama. I am mostly a nobody, so it helps my brand to get in the tangle.
What I meant by my above comments is that, whether you like it or not, it helps your brand too, Colin Mitchell. In fact, I would say that despite what could be exemplary theatrical work in the real world, your writings here are your primary source of attention and public identity. I never heard of you before I started reading this site, and I’m sure most of LA hadn’t yet either. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, and I support and participate in online amateur theater criticism. I just don’t go around calling people cowards because they don’t do it like me.
We each have our own styles, David. Apparently mine has elicited an interesting debate that has the privilege of including such notable voices and minds such as your own – I call that a success.
Obviously the work is always the most important thing, but there’s a difference between “venting our collective frustrations” and offering passionate, intelligent and relevant criticism. If the latter “endangers” crap theatre – I’m down with that. Quality theatre will never be in danger from the passionate exchange of intelligent and relevant ideas and criticism.
[...] a few days I was notified that a new posting was up at Bitter Lemons and there was some…er… controversy. Well, I love a yummy treat [...]
[...] writer from LA Theatre Review who uses the nom de plume “Addison DeWitt” has been banished from Bitter Lemons for not coming out from behind the protection of his or her Virtual [...]