"Great Art From Bad People" by Nikita Mungarwadi

Patrick Fifelski (DP) & Nikita Mungarwadi (Dir) on location

Guest Essay, from Nikita Mungarwadi, writer and director whom I've had the pleasure of tutoring and working with over the past six years. Picture is of her on the set of her short film Bad Luck Bella that will premiere in Ann Arbor Dec 22, 2014.

GREAT ART FROM BAD PEOPLE

What is it about the arts that can manipulate human emotions, sending the witness into a sea of startling tears or a spiral of interminable laughter? What is it about art that inspires us, guides us, and acculturates us? Most hold true to the notion that the purpose of art is to better us and some experts claim art can “raise our moral levels”[1]. We respect the irony of art, the illusion meant to distract our attention from the real world, yet offers universal principles that can be applied to reality. We fasten ourselves so deep into art’s mirage we convince ourselves that the artists must embody and exude some kind of pure goodness. And yet contradictions are ever present. In an interview for the New York Times, Kanye West pronounced, “Great art comes from great artists.” But if we consider that Kanye West is the epitome of narcissism and controversy, it begs the question: Can great art come from bad people?

There’s no doubt that West’s brimming ego depletes his character. At the 2004 American Music Awards, West ranted to the press after country music singer Gretchen Wilson won the Best New Artist Award over him. In an interview with Jimmy Kimmel, West even dubbed himself a “creative genius.” In addition to his ego, Kanye West consistently finds himself in the center of controversy, from blatantly accusing President George W. Bush on public television of being a racist, to sporting a Confederate flag on his sleeve, to humiliating Taylor Swift at the Video Music Awards.  It was reasonable for President Barack Obama to declare Kanye West a “jackass.” But when we consider all the musician’s flaws, we cannot stray from the fact that West’s music manifests considerable talent worthy of merit. With 21 Grammy awards and five platinum solo studio albums, West is immersed in accomplishment, even if his character is far from it.

West has certainly not been the only artist to contradict his art with his character. If we take a look at the 19^th century German composer, Richard Wagner, we find his opera compositions to be notably rich in their textures, harmonies, and orchestration. His concept of Gesamtkunstwerk (“total work of art”)[2] revolutionized opera and continued to influence many art forms throughout the 20^th century. Apart from distinguishing himself as a powerful composer, Wagner didn’t shy from publicly expressing his obsessive anti-Semitic views. Hitler deeply admired Wagner’s work and exercised his music in Nazi propaganda – Wagner’s music eventually becoming a symbol of fascism.  

The obvious answer is, yes, bad people, or people we consider to have socially reprehensible qualities, are undoubtedly capable of creating critically acclaimed art. But can we separate the man from the music, the art from the artist, and still appreciate the art by itself? Daniel Bareboim, a Jewish conductor who admires Wagner’s music, argues that while Wagner was a raging anti-Semite, he did not compose a single note that was anti-Semitic.[3] It can be argued that the artist and the art are two separate entities, and should be evaluated individually. The artist can be condemned from an ethical viewpoint while the art can only be judged from an aesthetic angle. Sure, Orson Scott Card does not reveal his homophobia in Enders Game[4], and Dickens continued to write about healing families long after discarding his wife[5], but some art cannot truly be fully appreciated without examining the life of the creator. A notable example is Picasso, who fueled his creative output from his countless romantic relationships of which two killed themselves and another two went mad.[6]

The inquisition between great art and ethics becomes even puzzling when we consider that great art can simultaneously glorify moral injustice. D.W. Griffith’s film Birth of A Nation, is known to have revolutionized the commercial film industry with its innovative film techniques, while at the same time presenting the Ku Klux Klan as a heroic force.

Art’s purpose goes beyond mere entertainment or bettering the spectator. Art represents the human condition with all its complexities and contradictions. We make art to be human, we witness art to feel human, and we study art to understand humanity. Humans are complex characters, and great art is an extension of that complexity. Art can be analyzed exclusively from the artist, but cannot always be fully appreciated without acknowledging the artist. At the same time, great art does not always constitute morally apt ideals. Art is complex; Humans are complex. Art is ironic; Humans are ironic. Like both good and bad humans, both good and bad art is irreducibly complex, intricate, and embodies the contradictory creations of ingenuity.

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[1] Williams, Stan. The Moral Premise. Studio City: Michael Wiese Productions, 2006. 19. Print.

[2] Barenboim, Daniel. "Wagner and The Jews." The New York Review of Books 60.11 (2013): 1+. Web. 1 Dec. 2013.

[3] Barenboim, Daniel. "Wagner and The Jews." The New York Review of Books 60.11 (2013): 1+. Web. 1 Dec. 2013.

[4] Lorge, Lauren. "The conundrum of good art created by bad people." The Collegian . Web. 30 Nov. 2013.

[5] Schulman, Sam. "Good Writers. Bad Men. Does It Matter?" In Character, A Journal of Everyday Virtues (2010). Web. 1 Dec. 2013.

[6] McGrath, Charles. "Good Art, Bad People." The New York Times June 2012. Web. 30 Nov. 2013.

Teen Community of Filmmakers

Nikita (L) & sister Monica (R)

Over the past few years I've taught a Story Symposium for a group of teens, and later helped them produce a short movie. One of my students is Nikita Mungarwadi, of whom I've written before about. The picture at right I took at her older sister's high school graduation dinner. Nikita's on the left, in dresses they purchased on a recent trip to their parent's cities in Southern India.

She asked my opinion of several of her college application essays. The one below was priceless and thought it applied to stories of all kinds. It tells one.

The application prompt is followed by her essay:

PROMPT

Essay #1 (Required for all applicants. Approximately 250 words) Everyone belongs to many different communities and/or groups defined by (among other things) shared geography, religion, ethnicity, income, cuisine, interest, race, ideology, or intellectual heritage. Choose one of the communities to which you belong, and describe that community and your place within it.

NIKITA'S ESSAY

We are a community of filmmaking teens.  A community of all Caucasians and one Indian.  A community of devout Catholics and one devout Hindu. I am the latter, yet I belong with the former. 

When I attended my first Story Symposium workshop freshman year, I was mildly surprised to find that I would be the brown sesame seed among the pot of white rice.  I was already accustomed to be the minority.  In school, I was one among the two Indians in my grade; in ballet I was the one Indian. 

I wasn’t expecting hostility, but I braced myself for the discreetness that was sure to exist.  Strangely… I got neither.  The rest of the teens completely ignored the fact that my external features were incompatible with theirs, and adopted me within their circle.

Soon, we became a cult, enthusiastically learning the craft of a perfect screenplay.  We contributed recommendations on others’ screenplay ideas while absorbing advice for our own. 

We all shared a mutual desire to become part of the channel through which we could manipulate human emotions, sending the audience into a sea of startling tears or a death of interminable laughter.  We realized that films were the illusion meant to distract people’s attention from the real world, yet offered universal principles that can be applied to reality.  The irony of filmmaking and the longing to be a part of it was what brought us together.

Even though our complexions clashed and our religious devotions disagreed, they considered me to be synonymous with themselves­­–a united community of teens indulged in fascination for the art of storytelling.

Getting Focus Group Feedback

Like a lot of you, I continue working on a number of story projects. One current project is NAUGHTY LITTLE NAZIS (D.K.N.), originally written by Nikita Mungarwadi when she was 13. At the time Niki went to the middle school where my wife, Pam, teaches. One day Pam came home and said that one of the students at school (but not one of hers) had read my book, The Moral Premise. That got my attention. It wasn't exactly written for early teen consumption.

The second sentence out of Pam's mouth was that the girl had written a screenplay and wondered if I'd read it for her. If the sentences had been reveresed I would have said "No, thank you." But how could I refuse to at least flip through the first few pages of the screenplay a teen had written after reading my book? It seemed "sacriledge" to say no.

Nikita Mungarwadi

So, a few days later a screenplay came home with Pam titled NAUGHTY LITTLE NAZIS. To say the least, it rocked my socks. I could hardly put it down. It needed some work to be sure, but the third thing that caught my eye was the author's name, "Nikita Mungarwadi." I have some connections to India, and as I found out Niki was an American off spring of Indian immigrants. Her Dad is the director of water distribution for S.E. Michigan for the City of Detroit.

I had to meet her. To make a long story short, I volunteered my time to work with Niki at their kitchen table with her dad helping us with Internet research about Germany during WWII.  We worked off and on for six months, and then I bought an option on the project to develop it further.

Here's the log line for the war-time action story:  A rebellious 14-year old German girl battles the Nazis to free her Jewish friends from the Ghetto before it's liquidated.  (The story is loosely based on a compaction of the teenage resistance groups active in Berlin during the war, which required considerable research on Nikia's part.)

Sanjeev (dad) and Nikita Mungarwadi, Stan Williams, Alex Krüger, Pam Williams. 

One of the problems with stories that are outside your experience is how to get a reading form someone that might know more than you do about it. The story had to read well to a German teenager, preferable form Berlin, I figured. Where was I going to find one of those, I thought. I'm in Michigan, and it's been decades since I was in Germany.

Niki and Alex. Alex returns to Berlin this week.

As it happened (for the convenience of this story) my son's family, who lives nearby, were hosting a 17-year German boy from Berlin as a foreign exchange student. The boy's uncle was in the Hitler Youth Corp. Such luck. Alex agreed to read the recent draft, and after Niki read it, and Pam, we all met for dinner at a local Indian restaurant.

Alex had a lot of great ideas for the character names to make them more traditional and German. With Nikita and Alex we refined a few scenes that they thought needed more danger and excitement. It's been fun working on a script written by a teenage an American-Indian girl, with a teenage young man from German (who's nearly forgotten how to speak in German after being the U.S. for a year), while sitting in an Indian restaurant in Michigan. Great Feedback. Now it's on to the next draft.