American Beauty by Thomas Newman plays.
There are not just the rich and the poor. There are those who live among us who are “old money.” And they think like peasants when it comes to matters of love and sadness…and like kings when it comes to a great many other things, perhaps. Maybe kings are more like peasants than the middle class too.
Many rich people are really just middle class people who have ascended relatively recently into the mainstream of societal wealth. But the “old money” people are different. They’re desperate and terrifying both. They cry like the poor and they’ll haunt you like the poor if you double-cross them.
Middle class people are incredibly fortunate. They’re sheltered. A real middle class person has a pension and owns a house. They buy regular food but the food is safe. They eat too much at Christmas. They might smoke cigarettes. They drive too fast on rare occasions. They’re coffee makers in the morning and they don’t come home until 5 PM. They have a few Christmas gifts and they take one vacation a year. And it’s for at least two weeks. And they take lots of pictures. And they have fun! …They have good television shows to watch and good films and read lots of books. They have decent free local schools and doctors who are rich…but not ‘the rich.’ And…they don’t cross certain lines. They create stability. They don’t cry wolf. And they don’t creat chaos or engage in sadistic games. They…like…their lives. Who wouldn’t?
The old money rich wouldn’t. It’s too restrictive. And peasants like Diego…don’t understand. And evil-hearted fools who crave destruction for no purpose…also hate the middle class.
Shaming the middle class, as it took off in the 1960’s in particular, was gross. The middle class “vibe” is distasteful to old money and the peasants…but it’s just because we aren’t like them. And things got lopsided. The middle class never truly stood up for themselves. Maybe they were being too middle class and nice. And maybe like Casi they were too insecure and narcissistically injured if they wanted to stand-up for themselves. But we desperately needed them to.
Because now Diego is defending them and he’s not one of them. Poor Diego. He’s a brave man in his own way. And actual old money has left the country like my son…or it’s hiding to some extent. And evil men are loud. The dear rich-peasant Kennedys are pushy and possibly almost totally dishonest and yet…like Diego…they’re some of the only public figures defending the middle class.
Mad World by Jasmine Thompson plays.
Lem was recently financially burdened old money and if he was straight he likely always expected Jack to…love another man…and let Lem go…and that he, Lem, would…fall in love with a woman. Eventually. He…was living in a magic fairyland in his romantic mind. He was…enamored by beauty. Beauty in and of itself. And in his dire sadness he was distant and unable to find peace because he wasn’t ever that fortunate. He had a tragic life.
Jack was rich peasant. A very rich Irish peasant. He was intoxicated by his wealth. Daily. Always.
Einaudi: Experience plays.
Jack lacked awareness or restraint or self-consciousness because he was ignorant and extremely rich. He felt high. Even when he wasn’t high. Because he got his way. He was very, very, very spoiled. He was rarely told no. He learned few interpersonal boundaries. And he was a surly, difficult, selfish and cruel person. Even when he was choosing to be very sweet.
So when Jack, a peasant, with his innate fear of poverty met Lem…with his innate fear of evil men…they formed a bond. They hated rules. They hated the impending doom they were both at odds with on the horizon. Neither man felt safe. Jack secretly hated Lem. Lem didn’t know that. And Lem secretly had real power on his side and Jack didn’t know that. They bonded over fear.
Their smiles are forced. Their poses forced. They always look fake when they’re together. Because they were fake when they were together. And yet neither fully understood that at the time.
Jack Kennedy was far too relaxed. Being a rich peasant he was so naive. He gradually fell apart behind closed doors and then was shot. He assumed incorrectly that his long-term prey, Lem, was a safe haven for his malignant tendencies.
To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra plays.
Lem was…just waiting to kill himself. He was never going to crawl out of his prison, despite what he sadly believed otherwise. He took his pain as it was…and was far more alone his whole life than he ever imagined until his last moments. He was never going to be okay after Jack Kennedy sank his enraged and peasant-Irish-resentful, into his young yet already dying flesh. He had very little chance of escape. Nobody was coming to save him and he never understood that. Lem always assumed otherwise. He never realized that the foreboding future was only his to alter with God’s help. Why? Because he was old money and like Lacey…was lied to.
Keen to Cross the Pond 