***Content Alert: This post mentions media that has some controversial or objectionable content. I have not personally read or viewed all of the media mentioned in this post; these are discussed in a general way. Their mention here does not constitute a recommendation by me. Please do your own research and decide what you're comfortable consuming.***
Although I was born at the tail end of Generation X, I've always looked up to these older "siblings" of mine. Living at the edge of Millennials and graduating in the Class of 1999 when Ronald Reagan's "A Nation at Risk" education reforms were all focused on the Class of 2000, gave me a front row seat to all the subtle but real differences between the two generations. And if I had to sum it up those differences in one word, it would be the same one used in that reform document: Risk.
RISKY BUSINESS
The driving laws. The "freshman academies." The renovated buildings. The music, the clothes, heck, even the atmosphere changed in front of my eyes as I progressed through high school and college, watching the older Generation Xers graduate in succession and leave me and my '99 classmates behind. We all saw it, but we couldn't put a name on it. We couldn't even really describe it, except to say that the new stock-- the Millennial generation-- was just less... fun. There were no more wild antics, outrageous personalities, larger than life experiences. And oddly enough, it seemed like no one missed the Gen Xers-- certainly not the adults. They were too focused on paving over the past to make a smooth path to the new Millennium, and too ready to leave the "mistakes" behind.
In Generations: The History of America's Future, 1584-2069, William Strauss and Neil Howe describe the anti-child environment into which Generation Xers (then termed "13ers") were born-- if they were born at all. Generation X was the first generation that women took pills not to have, and at the time were "the most aborted generation in American history" (p. 324). For those who did survive to birth, they were greeted with historic numbers of divorce, historic rates of domestic dissatisfaction in mothers, and a steep increase in child poverty (p. 324-327). These mostly unwanted latchkey children, like children of any era, were relilient, so they adopted a cyncial, ironic, even comically perverse attitude to the hard-knock life. Yes, reality bites. So why not have a little fun along the way?
But there are two problems with children who are raised in an unhappy, unstable culture. The first is that it's difficult for them to bond with other people. The second is that there is little or no safety net to catch them when they fall. And for natural risk-takers like Generation X, the stakes are high and the leaps are inevitable.
BEING BRATS
Andrew McCarthy's documentary Brats* (Hulu, 2024, NR) is a perfect example of the Generation X mentality. Starting out as an exploration of the the fallout from the 1985 article that termed a rag-tag collection of young Hollywood actors "The Brat Pack," McCarthy interviews his former co-stars and shares their thoughts on the article, their careers, and their connection to each other. Although the language is crass and the pacing is sometimes slow, I enjoyed the interviews and the nervous, earnest curiousity that Andrew McCarthy brought to the film. It often reminded me of William Shatner's The Captains (2011, NR), a documentary about the actors who played leading roles in the Star Trek franchise. And just like The Captains brought to light the double-edged sword of success and fame, Brats delivers on the same, but with a distinct generational flair.
Perhaps you've heard that Groucho Marx quote, "I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member." You might think it's funny, but for Generation X, it's true. Strauss and Howe observed it in 1991, writing in Generations:
"Far more than older generations, 13ers [Generation X] come with myriads of regional subgroups and ethnic minicultures, each thinking its own thoughts, listening to its own music, laying its own plans, and paying little heed to each other. Yet the first signs are beginning to appear--a common alienation visible in 13er art and writing, and in their growing awareness of their own economic vulnerability. 'Sure we're alienated ,' admits American University student Daniel Ralph. 'But who wouldn't be, in our shoes?'" (p. 330).
So when New York magazine writer David Blum published a gossipy, misleading, and derogatory article about a group of (mostly) Gen X actors, claiming they were "a roving band of famous young stars on the prowl for parties, women, and a good time," who "act together whenever possible," the fallout was instantaneous. Without equivocation, every star interviewed then and forty years later had a negative reaction to the article. Several said it drove a wedge between them for fear of being branded as a group at the detriment of their individual talents and ambitions. In a a poignant moment during Brats, Andrew McCarthy reveals to St. Elmo's Fire co-star Ally Sheedy that the beautiful moment of acceptance and connection he felt on the set of that ensemble film ("I finally have friends," he recalls wistfully) was short-lived, in part due to the article.
And the separations remained: Many of the Brat Pack had not spoken to or worked together again for decades since, as revealed in the interviews. However, despite the distance of many years, McCarthy excels in highlighting the energy and individuality of each person. Most interviews are filmed at the actors' personal homes, and these settings add an extra layer of intimacy as they chronicle their struggles alongside their successes. In the end, each seems to have come to terms with their place as avatars of the teenage experience, even if it's not the legacy they'd hoped for. After all, it's better than being forgotten. Right?
DON'T YOU FORGET ABOUT ME
In the beginning of the popular Depression-era film My Man Godfrey, a pair of well-dressed socialites and their top-hatted companion wander into a Hooverville beside New York's Queensboro Bridge. They stop, offering the first bum they meet five dollars if he comes with them to the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. Why? They're on a scavenger hunt, and the only thing they're missing is a Forgotten Man.
Who is the Forgotten Man? In the case of My Man Godfrey, it's a Godfrey Smith, a young Harvard-educated businessman and disappointed lover turned hobo who finds himself playing butler to a family of dysfunctional millionaires. In typical screwball comedy fashion, Godfrey reverses his fortunes by luck and cunning, almost to his own surprise. As Criterion puts it, "Godfrey has no illusions about the power of good deeds, or love for that matter. The game is everything."
If that sounds like the ironic humor of a hardscrabble Generation Xer, that's because the Forgotten Men belong to the Lost Generation, and both are part of the NOMAD generational archetype. A NOMAD Generation, termed "Reactive Generations" in Generations, "grows up as underprotected and critiziced youths during a spiritual awakening; matures into risktaking, alienated rising adults; mellows into pragmatic midlife leaders during a secular crisis; and maintains respect (but less influence) as reclusive elders" (p. 74). Not surprisingly, then, the parallels between Generation X and the Lost are numerous: according to Strauss and Howe's Generations, "The Lost were America's first generation to grow up amid widespread adult-approved narcotics use," performed an unmatched rate of child labor, and were known for their terrible habits from abusive sugar consumption to poor educational attainment (p. 251-252). Disliked, decried, and finally ignored, is it any wonder that eighty years after the heyday of Lost youth, a television show about Generation Xers attempting to survive on a dangerous deserted island was called "LOST"?
And yet, the Forgotten Men did provide a service, one that is often overshadowed by their straight-edged, decidedly less-fun juniors, the G.I. Generation. The Forgotten Men, the Lost, served in World War One, and I wouldn't blame you for not knowing about it. Until September 2024, there was not even a monument for these soldiers, whose own government neglected to pay them adequately for their efforts in the war and then bulldozed their families from the shantytowns in D.C. where they camped to protest. But finally, 100 years later, America is ready to remember the veterans of the Great War. Sabin Howard, a first-cohort Generation Xer and renouned sculptor, won the bid of the Centennial Commission to create "A Soldier's Journey," the massive sixty-foot memorial at Pershing Park (part of the Federal Triangle where some WWI Bonus Expeditionary soldiers camped). Of course, a memorial to the forgotten was never going to be a simple matter, as the fiesty Sabin Howard recalls on Mike Rowe's podcast in an episode aptly titled "Born Canceled**."
MAN IN MOTION
The upbeat, poppy tune of John Parr's theme song to St. Elmo's Fire ("Man in Motion") belies the serious nature of its hard-hitting lyrics. And yet, they seem to be a fitting description of the the the new World War One memorial: "Growin' up, you don't see the writing on the wall / Passin' by, movin' straight ahead, you knew it all / But maybe sometime if you feel the pain / You'll find you're all alone, everything has changed. / Play the game, you know you can't quit until it's won / Soldier on, only you can do what must be done." Described as a "film in bronze," Sabin Howard's WWI monument is exceptional for its expression of not only emotion, but movement.
Howard acknowledges that his initial ideas for the monument were boring, and the Centennial Commission challenged him to embue the work with greater dynamism. So the sculptor took a risk and a new process was born: Howard used live models (some of them veterans) to act out the scenes he wished to depict. Then, as described in Smithsonian magazine, he would capture these scenes with a rapid shutter shot using on an iPhone in "burst mode" and choose the best pose from the resulting photos.
But this was only one part of the challenge, because the monument is not a sculpture of one figure, but thirty-eight. Indeed, "A Soldier's Journey" is, as Howard's novelist wife Traci L. Slatton pointed out, a depiction of the archetypal Hero's Journey. Starting with a soldier taking leave of his family, the memorial scrolls across his life as he joins the Army ranks, leads his comrades into battle, encounters the horrors of war, and finally returns home. It's an entirely human piece, and for an artist like Sabin Howard, who reveres the humanism of Michaelangelo, "A Soldier's Journey" is original and classical at the same time.
IN YOUR EYES
As I've written before, you don't have to reinvent the wheel to be original. You just have to marry marry pure imagination and excellent craftsmanship to create new and interesting connections. But you have to do it in a way that tells the truth and excites the audience. Postmodernism does neither of those things, preferring subversion (even addiction) to reality. Consider the case of Ariadne (Wrapped), a surrealist statue that was--kind of--unveiled at Station Square, Cambridge (UK) in 2022. Mostly unrecognizable, this hunk of... something... wrapped in rope is supposed to be an oblique metaphor for transportation. Or perspectives. Or... whatever.
In reality, Ariadne (Wrapped) is a paragon of postmodern artwork. It subverts the classical beauty of the famed sculpture Sleeping Ariadne by denying its audience any view of the human form or any context for its own meaning (besides its plinth). By contrast, the sculptor of Sleeping Ariadne left a significant detail-- the snake on the wrist-- that led to her identification with the Greek myth. But Ariadne (Wrapped) is not contextual. It's conceptual, as one contributor writes in a post for Courage.Media titled, "TRASH":
"Concept – or idea – is prioritized by the artist over aesthetic value. Language comes before form, and the viewer requires art literacy in order to understand the concept. Conceptual art as public sculpture is not fit for purpose in urban spaces because it denies both its “public” and its existence as sculpture."
When asked by Mike Rowe about postmodern artworks, Sabin Howard says they are "art about art", meant as a joke on the audience. They aren't risky or dangerous; they're silly. By contrast, he believes that true art and history are the "unifying factor for nations and groups of people," all the way back to the Stone Age.
Without using the terminology of Strauss and Howe, Howard still recognizes that the Crisis Era of World War II, reflected in today's Fourth Turning, is one that hinges on the preservation of traditions and symbols, which is why he took the risks of this multi-year, multi-contient, relationship-straining, pandemic-enduring job of a lifetime. In his own words, Howard wanted to make a monument that "shows the story of World War One in a way that everybody can get it, no matter where they're from or how old they are or how much education they have." This is a direct contrast to Ariadne (Wrapped), which two years after its reveal continues to confuse the public, distress officials, and divide the character from her characterization in history.
If Sabin Howard isn't particularly well liked by some of his peers, he doesn't seem to mind. This Gen X firebrand is out to make a statement, as the "practical midlife leader" that a NOMAD archetype must inevitably be. As the final scene in "A Soldier's Journey" indicates, it's the job of that Forgotten Man to fight anyway, and pass his knowledge on to his children.
ARE YOU THERE, GOD?
Just as Sabin Howard's own daughter stood as a model for the soldier's daughter in "A Soldier's Journey," we must remember that Generation X has kids of their own now. While the nation wrings its hands over Millennials who can't or won't reproduce, Generation X, a.k.a. America's Neglected Middle Child, has already given birth to the Homelander generation, a group who is intensely safeguarded from the risks its parents experienced as youths. So it makes sense that Gen X parents want to share some of their childhood with their own kids, but in a sanitized way.
Enter the spate of nostalgic, 1970's youth-centric films that have begun to filter into the marketplace. There's the film adaptation of the controversial and often-banned novel Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret (2023) by Judy Blume. Blume is quoted in Strauss and Howe's Generations as saying "'I hate the idea that you should always protect children. [...] They live in the same world we do'" (p.329). While some at the time (usually Gen X kids) appreciated Blume's candid portrayals of broken families, religious skepticism, and burgeoning sexuality in the 1970's, today's version is "cleaned up" (according to ScreenRant) for the viewing public.
Are You There, God? also bears cautious PG-13 rating for "thematic material involving sexual education and some suggestive material." It's a far cry from the racially insensitive, full-frontal nude, crass humor that constituted 1984's coming-of-age film Sixteen Candles, rated an overly generous PG. But Sixteen Candles star Molly Ringwald has been clear about distancing herself from that past, and she also declined to appear in Andrew McCarthy's Brats. She is like many Generation X parents, who are now are reckoning with the risks of their youth and considering the consequences for the next generation.
One of these consequences might be the increasing secularism of American culture. NOMAD archetype generations are known for pragmatism, but ARTIST archetypes (which include the Homelander/Gen Z Generation, born 2005-present) are known for their spirituality. Born during a crisis, they come of age during a spiritual awakening, the "spring" season of the generational saeculum. Perhaps that's the reason that the film version of Are You There, God? focuses so much on religious choices. In an article for Vox, Constance Grady writes, "[Margarget] isn’t looking to be shown how to talk to God: She already does that every night, alone in her room, pouring out her dreams and worries to God as though she’s writing in her diary." Instead, Margaret is trying to choose between Judaism and Christianity, in order to "codify her relationship with God."
What does religion mean for the youth of today? Is it salvation? Hope? A place to find your "tribe"? As it turns out, only they can decide that for themselves. Such might be the message of the new film adaptation of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever (2024). The film is based on a short story by Barbara Robinson, first published in 1972. In the film, a local mom named Grace (played by Generation Xer Judy Greer) volunteers to organize her church's 75th Annual Christmas Pageant. While everyone expects another iteration of the same safe-but-boring pageant that's been held for years, hijinks ensue when a family of rotten Gen X kids, the Herdmans, show up and demand parts in the play.
What follows is a touching tale of redemption for the unruly, impoverished Herdmans. (As the short story tells it, the Herdmans' mother insisted on working extra shifts "because she didn't want to be cooped up all day with her own bratty kids," a prime example of the "historic rates of domestic dissatisfaction in mothers" that Strauss and Howe metioned.) But The Best Christmas Pageant Ever is also a redemption story for the other children and adults involved in the church, who are forced to reckon with their own prejudices. Simple, endearing acts like Imogene Herdman's enthusiastic burping of the Baby Jesus doll make viewers consider not only the wide arms of God's grace but the humanity of the His Son in fleshly form.
Making a Christian-centric film in 2024 seems risky. But somebody has to do it. And if you think about the risks inherent to the Christmas Story (a long journey, a dirty manger, a murderous king), you might find that a group of hardscrabble Herdmans are just the sort of people Jesus came for. Because He, above all, always remembers the forgotten. And even if you're one of the "bad kids," so long as you're breathing it's not too late to be redeemed. Tis' the season when wise men seek Him, after all.
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*Multiple expletives are used by some of the persons interviewed in Brats.
**Some expletives are used by Howard in this interview; harsher words are bleeped.
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