DURING THE SECOND WAVE, people (and, invisibly, Ariane herself) began to consider questions of the nature of her existence as a person, or as a representation of a person. The following responses, most from years three through six, are, I think, typical of that period:
Susan Nordhouse, “By the Light of the Paper Moon,” in Perception magazine:
Ultimately, of course, the work that we call Ariane raises questions about what in the material of the drama is real and what is artificial, what it means to be playing a part, pretending to be someone else, and, ultimately, what it means to be oneself, and to be alive. H. Nelson Guzmán, in his intriguing (and, one feels compelled to note, partially fictionalized) biography, Nothing Up My Sleeve, points out that a hat, a simple hat, introduced into a film as a property, or “prop” (and surely Guzmán intends us to recall the photographer in Antonioni’s Blow-Up, who, in need of a “prop,” that is, a property, for a staged photograph, goes to a jumble shop and buys a “prop,” that is, a propeller), is no longer a simple hat, or even, quite, a real hat, but has become a “hat,” that is, Hat playing the part of “Hat,” just as the actress who wears it—Darlene Snell, let us say—is playing the part of “Diane Farrell.”
In Ariane, however, we see a curious extension of this puzzling relationship between the actor and the part, because we surely see Ariane Lodkochnikov herself, and not her flickering image on a screen, and on the stage she is playing the part of “Ariane Lodkochnikov,” and no one else. Yet the question arises: to what degree does she remain herself?
To what degree does the “hat” on the head of “Diane Farrell” remain the hat on the head of Darlene Snell? To what degree does the block of marble from which Michelangelo sculpted David remain just a block of marble? To what degree does “Ariane” remain Ariane? Are they very much the same, as her most enthusiastic “fans,” who dote on her so and seem to feel a psychic kinship of some kind with her, seem to think? Or are they very much different, two people inside a single skin, one real, one artificial, coextensive in real space but with their personalities standing apart, one dislocated slightly from the other, separated by the barely discernible gap that we call the ironic distance?
Andrea Morton, “I’ll Have What She’s Having,” in Ragtag & Bobtail Weekly:
She has the power to make trends and set styles, but she never seems to use that power—or does she always use it? All those clever people on Madison Avenue certainly recognize what a powerful marketing force she can be. I can’t believe that she doesn’t recognize it, too. Publishers know that when Ariane crawls into bed, picks up a book from her bedside table, and begins to read, the cover faces the audience. God forbid she should fall asleep over it! But if she laughs, or cries, or can’t put it down, then the word of mouth shifts into high gear and the book rides a ground swell of popularity. Her cleansing cream, her peanut butter, her cigarettes—we all notice what brands she uses, and many, many of us want the same brands in our homes—just in case anyone’s watching!
Donna Merrick, “Since You Asked . . .” (syndicated newspaper column):
What has kept me from warming to her is exactly what my friends find so attractive about her—the idea that she is living her life on display. “It’s real life!” they sigh, or gush, or cry. “Isn’t she brave to live it right out there where we can see it?” Frankly, I don’t think so. In fact, I think that living a life on display makes it quite unreal. This is nothing like my life that she’s living. I don’t have an audience of adoring fans to make me think that even my wasted moments are somehow redeemed by the significance they might have for someone else. (Not unless you count the kids.) No, if you ask me this is not real life at all. This is artificial life. And the woman on that stage is becoming less and less real by the day. I think that in the beginning there may have been something genuine about her, but lately all I see is an actress. I don’t see life. I see art. There’s a difference.
[to be continued]
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