Eric
Bogosian
Powell's
Books
at First Congregational Church, 1126 SW Park Ave., 228-4651.
7:30 pm Saturday, Nov. 18.
Mall
by
Eric Bogosian
(Simon
and Schuster, 246 pages, $23)
"Without the
expressive arts, we as human beings become sterile--we lose
our souls." --Eric Bogosian
Fifteen years ago, Eric Bogosian and Ted Savinar premiered
Talk Radio at the Portland Center for Visual Arts.
It was an angry, dynamic and thought-provoking work that set
the pace for the rest of Bogosian's career, which has developed
into an impressive theatrical résumé.
His latest addition is a novel, Mall. It's the story
of five suburbanites whose lives intersect in one violent
night at a shopping mall. There's Mal, a 30-year-old speed
freak who executes his mother, burns down the house, then
heads for the mall with weapons. Then there's Jeff, a dreadlocked
teen who falls in love with an ennui-soaked sociopath, Adelle;
Danny, a professional with a lingerie fetish; Michel, a
Haitian security guard; and Donna, a housewife with an insatiable
hunger. All are lost souls led by appetites. Willamette
Week spoke with Bogosian before his return to Portland
this week to promote Mall.
Willamette Week: Mall's style seems to
dovetail with your theatrical explorations of character,
except for the characters of Michel and Donna. Both seem
to be a departure for you.
Eric Bogosian: They're not necessarily people I immediately
identify with--a Haitian immigrant or housewife. On the
page I can live through these people, but on stage it would
simply become an exercise in mimicry. I never want that
to be what my work's about.
Is mall culture infecting the rest of America?
I think the lifestyle of the suburbs is oppressive and
very predictable. Everything in the suburbs is imported,
nothing develops or grows organically. It makes for a rather
stultifying existence, but I participate in it as much as
anyone. The notion that there are Americans completely insulated
from this--whether they're urban or rural--is simply untrue.
I mean, we have a K-Mart on 14th Street! I moved to New
York City 25 years ago to live in an exciting anarchic environment,
one where I couldn't predict what its dynamics were. Now,
you go to Times Square and there's a Virgin Superstore and
The Lion King.
You left the suburbs only to have them follow you?
I'm not sure anyone can saddle New York. But I worry about
the corporate logic that is being imposed on people. Malls
are ugly places that are designed to move as many people
in and out as possible and get them to buy. We're almost
like the bloodstream for something much bigger than us.
Do you go to the mall?
The thing is, I do go to the mall. I live this life. I
have the same appetites and fears as my characters. When
I'm moving through this environment, I feel funny, and I
wonder if anyone else feels funny, too. I find myself thinking,
"You know, it would be nice to buy a scented candle," and
I buy that scented candle. But for some reason, going in
and out of the scented-candle store gives me a deep feeling
of dread.
Is Mal, the mass murderer in your book, rebelling against
this environment?
He's not really rebelling. There are going to be Mals in
our society. It seems like every three months somebody walks
into a high school or a McDonald's with weapons and does
something horrible. This is part of the way we live now.
I remember when Richard Speck killed those nurses and it
left people horrified for years. It was a nightmare come
to life. Now, Columbine is floating away and we're just
sort of waiting for the next event.
Have you seen others perform your solo shows?
My shows get done all over the world. I've seen the Italian
version of my stuff, but missed the three-year run of Sex,
Drugs and Rock and Roll in Buenos Aires and the Polish
and Bulgarian versions. It's all exciting and very interesting,
but it's not me.
My experience of seeing others interpret your work,
after having seen you perform it, is how much they don't
seem to get what you're doing. They seem to smirk behind
the performance, as though the actor is commenting on the
character while performing, which undermines the point of
your work.
Any time you take a theater piece and interpret it, there's
going to be a range of approaches. I've witnessed some horrific
versions of my work, and I've also seen great versions.
The thing that makes something like Arthur Miller's Death
of a Salesman such a classic is that it's bulletproof;
however it's done, it still ends up looking right. If you
find the way to write so that people don't screw up the
material, then you've got a winner. You've got Zoo Story
or Our Town. I can't claim that as long as my work
relies on the performance.
Your novel was released the day after the election.
Is there a comment here that you hope will resonate?
The end of the world is near. Flee for your lives.
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