But not all characters smoke; not all these people down on their luck immediately reach for fags. Jack Nicholson’s character in The Shining doesn’t reach for a cigarette despite suffering from what we can only describe politely as a mild bout of depression and paranoia.

In a likewise manner, take Taxi Driver, starring Robert De Niro. De Niro plays part of a Vietnam veteran sickened by society. If ever a character needs to relax with and spark one up, it’s our friend Travis Bickle, yet, no, he decides to relax by doing some DIY that involves a pistol secreted up his arm and a mirror into which he can imagine conversations.

And whilst we’re at it, I don’t want to see Clint Eastwood riding into town, sipping delicately from a bottle of Evian. The subtle nuances would be lost; there’d be something missing.

Smoking exists in society. Therefore, if Hollywood is to reflect society, then there is always going to be characters who smoke and those that don’t. If a character is stressed out, he or she are still unlikely to reach for a Geri Haliwell yoga video.

And are teenagers, whose screen idols smoke, more likely to smoke themselves? I’m more inclined, as others are, to go along with idea of peer pressure, of influences closer to home. I smoke because my friends and parents smoked. I didn’t see Casablanca as a teenager. And it certainly hasn't encouraged me to continue smoking. Film-making is one of arts. Art reflects life. The semiotics of smoking suggests several traits within a single character, this much is true, yet it is so ingrained within Western culture to see a character who smokes as being cool and having a shed load of attitude that this overrides all else. Society must change first, then films will follow suit. Not other way around. Hollywood isn’t that powerful, nor should we ever let it become so.

© Copyright Holmes Charnley mmiv. All rights reserved.

You have to put Warhol’s quote into context, to see people that he was surrounded by. The parties he hosted at his studio, The Factory, were rife with people wanting to be famous. He could see where it was all going. It was on his doorstep. He was surrounded by all these people. They wanted fame for fame’s sake. The signs were there even then. Drag queens, hustlers, would-be actors, addicts all vying for his attention. No talent, just star struck nobodies.

Obviously, Warhol was being ironic. Surrounded by these hangers-on, with no hope of real fame, he had already, in his work, captured images of those he felt to be truly famous.

I’ve been fortunate enough to see a couple of pieces of Warhol’s work up close and you can almost smell his words, know what he meant. When I visited Centre Pompidou in Paris, I was able to look at his lithograph entitled 10 Lizes. I’m not here to decipher what he meant by reproducing an image of Elizabeth Taylor’s face 10 times. Suffice to say, being bombarded by a large canvas with her image repeated, you inherently understand what Warhol’s idea of fame really was.

It isn’t selling your story to a tabloid, nor is it huge presumption that I am remotely interested in watching you brush your teeth on Big Brother. Nor do I wish to watch you learn how to sing. Learn how to sing, then if I like your finished product, I’ll line your pockets. But if I don’t like it, don’t go crying to tabloids, because I won’t be reading your story. You have to earn my respect before I’m even remotely interested in what you have to say.

Source:

The Independent

March, 2004

© Copyright Holmes Charnley mmiv. All rights reserved.