Superfluities Redux

by George Hunka
Artistic director, theatre minima

A Theatre Surrounds a City:
Vienna's Burgtheater


Thursday, 15 October 2009

Books: That's some catch, that catch-22

Man was matter, that was Snowden's secret. Drop him out a window and he'll fall. Set fire to him and he'll burn. Bury him and he'll rot, like other kinds of garbage. That was Snowden's secret. Ripeness was all.

Joseph Heller's 1961 Catch-22 has remained in print for nearly fifty years. One of the rare (and one of the most popular) American novels to be directly influenced by Louis-Ferdinand Celine's Journey to the End of the Night, its appeal has deepened over the decades, perhaps because it's taken so long for its perspicacity to emerge.

Like its European twin, Jaroslav Hasek's The Good Soldier Schweik, it's had a reputation as an anti-war novel, but this is mistaken. Both books, instead, are satires of the totally administered culture. The agent of this total administration is the military, but it needn't be so; it is also (as Heller demonstrates in the character of Milo Minderbinder) the corporatized, post-capitalist society, a technic that encompasses military, business, media, education and government. A desiccated progressive socialism is as much these books' satiric target as progressive capitalism. The catch, of course, is that there's no way out, no means of meaningful experience within the culture itself. At the end of Catch-22, Yossarian is on the run, narrowly escaping death from a knife wielded by a whore; at the end of Brecht's adaptation of Schweik (Hasek's book itself remained unfinished), the soldier is marching in circles at the request of his military leaders.

Though Heller's books, like Celine's and Hasek's, are extraordinarily funny, he has been rather condescendingly and unfairly pigeonholed as a comic novelist. Catch-22 reaches its peak with chapter 39, "The Eternal City," in which Yossarian wanders a Rome that has turned into a kaleidoscope of ruins, suffering and despair; the comic tone is entirely abandoned, and the writing is at its finest. A similar tragic consciousness informs Heller's next book, the 1974 Something Happened, a finally shocking condemnation of the administered world in the domestic sphere and to my mind a novel that equals the achievement of Catch-22: a comic portrait of cultural and spiritual deterioration and, with William Gaddis' 1975 JR, one of the few postwar American novels that could have been written yesterday; both of them remain in print, but sadly, little read. (Kurt Vonnegut memorably and enthusiastically reviewed Something Happened for the New York Times; "This is black humor indeed — with the humor removed," he said.)

The reputation of Mike Nichols' 1970 film of Catch-22 has also grown over the years, though at the time of its release it was buried by hysterically positive critical response to the more raucous and superficial service comedy M*A*S*H. The film isn't perfect, by far: Nichols slightly fudges the ending, and a two-hour film can't contain the extraordinary carnival of events and images in the book. It is surprising that it is as good as it is. Buck Henry's screenplay captures much of the book's tone, particularly its humor, and there will never be a Yossarian as Yossarian-like as the young, brilliant Alan Arkin. I was also surprised, looking at the clips below, by the cinematographic beauty of the film. David Watkin's luscious camerawork captures the chiaroscuro of interiors and the shocking beauty of exteriors most evocatively. In the first clip below, the camera lingers on the airplanes as they take off for a military mission and disappear into the mists, gliding into the air and dissipating into nothingness and silence: a stunning effect.

Two clips from the film are available on YouTube. In the first, Doc Daneeka (Jack Gilford) reveals the definition of the ubiquitous catch to Yossarian after Yossarian leads his tablemates (including Jon Voight, Peter Bonerz, Charles Grodin, Martin Sheen, Bob Balaban and Art Garfunkel) on a hilarious tour of his own well-founded paranoia:

In this second clip, which comes somewhat later in the film, the idealist Nately is engaged in debate with an old man, who tries to teach him the means of survival in a collapsing world (though it must be noted that even his cynicism does not save him in the end); the old man is played by a barely recognizable Marcel Dalio (Robert de la Cheyniest in Renoir's masterpiece Rules of the Game and Rosenthal in his Grand Illusion):

The dialogue in both clips, if I remember correctly, is taken verbatim from the novel itself.

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