Purgatory

Having watched the last episode of Nathan Fielder and Benny Safdie’s, The Curse, I think of time and what it means to be a good person. Asher, who is played by Fielder, is cursed by a little girl for pretending to give her 100$ while filming for his new show. A curse is a blasphemous utterance meant to evoke a supernatural effort to punish an individual. But I believe this curse is something more substantial and indefinable, closely related to Asher’s fate and the choices he makes. The curse could be life itself, a theoretical purgatory where heaven and hell meet, living in this eternal realm where the only means of escape is through kindness, acts of courage, and charity.

Whitney, Asher’s wife and played with a seething malignancy by Emma Stone, would view herself within the realm of these elements. She is kind, courageous, and charitable, no doubt. But to what end? Most of her interactions with characters stem from a manipulative understanding of socioeconomic transactions. She so firmly believes in her righteousness, and her artistic endeavors, that relationships are matters of insignificance to her primary objectives of becoming the “Green Queen.” Everyone is disposable, as is everything. The show she pitches to HGTV with her jester of a husband, is called “Flipanthropy.” Ideally this merges two notions of flipping houses for profit while maintaining a philanthropic perspective–like constructing sustainable homes of artistic value–and treating the town of Española, New Mexico, as a waif in need of care. Systemic issues abound in a place as peripheral as this one, where jobs aren’t found but casinos are, and history is regarded as a plaything for tourists. Whitney aims to make this show her statement. The encroachment of her parents’ reputations as slumlords, and her need to be taken as seriously as Native American artists because she too is saying something important, drives her into a frenzy of cringe-inducing stress tests because we as viewers see her intentions behind her veil of altruism.

Her relationship with Cara, played excellently by Nizhonniya Luxi, perfectly encapsulates whether or not Whitney is a good person, because Cara clearly sees through the facade. Whitney acts as if she’s always on camera, with a particular plasticity one might be used to seeing on reality television shows. Socializing with her portrays Cara as annoyed, bored, almost mesmerized by her ghoulish imitation of kindness. Whitney feeds her lines to say, hands her money, and constantly praises her as if she were an exotic specimen one feels superior to be around. Her unabating attempts to include Cara in her inner circle are all the more painful because she is in desperate need of a cane to support her artistic standings in the housing market. She cannot be alive unless it is through the lens of her show, this is how she exists, when in judgment of what is perceived as being a good person. This notion of perception is a curse in some ways, because cameras excoriate interaction and inspect the ligaments of social order. It tugs on those nerves and shows us how insignificant everything can be when demonstrated in its base condition. Whitney is resolute in her purgatorial suffering because she believes herself to be the center of the world, that all things flow from her, hence her need to change the show’s name to “Green Queen.” How can she be led to suffer when she is queen?

Perhaps then suffering is what makes one good. We must suffer to understand the hurt one can inflict, and those who endure hurt. Asher is exemplary in this. Fielder and Safdie exhibit him as a jester. He is the unfunny, unfuckable, little minion to Whitney. So in love is he with his “Green Queen” that he sacrifices most of his moral standing to ensure her success. This makes him pragmatic, duty bound, yet also heroic because he firmly believes that she believes in her cause. Out of all the characters he defines himself exclusively by their politics while she consistently undermines him, cucks him, and insults him.

What’s interesting is that Asher, though his actions may be cringe and odd, are exactly what is expected of him. He doesn’t try to embellish or act, as opposed to Whitney who is paranoid that the camera is always watching. This makes him much more likable because he is faulty and damaged, crooked and blemished, he isn’t perfect, nor does he try to be. I believe when the little girl cursed him she awoke a primal understanding of himself. Afterwards he moves through the series paranoid, wary of signs which present themselves as elements of his curse. There is no fakery on his part, no pageantry unless dictated by his wife, he’s just as foolish as he’s always been. Whitney abhors his presence because of his inability to mediate himself between real life and the life she wants depicted on the show. Underlying his persona is the curse itself, because he believes that each of his actions will give further credence to his supernatural punishment and will end disastrously for him. Unknowingly, this drives his actions to be much more considerate and humble. He aids a needy family by providing them shelter free of charge, he unmasks the greedy practices of casinos who encourage addicts to gamble, and he concerns himself greatly with his tenants and their overall wellbeing. It’s his curse to be so aware of his actions among his community that he ironically achieves a greater contribution towards Española than Whitney ever does.

Cringe can also serve as a great mediator of goodness because it so delicately removes social binds from interaction. Reality television is filled with these moments, suffering through the seemingly mundane or ordinary in casual arguments between husband and wife, awkward tension, tedious conversation, and passive aggressiveness. As viewers we tell ourselves we would never perform the infamous “sweater scene” yet in using television as a way to mediate cringe, keeping spectators safeguarded from its effects, we recognize in these moments of social flaying the same tendencies in our own relationships with loved ones, strangers, and coworkers. We swear we are better, different, but when lifting that delicate scab of social bonds and social agreements we can’t help but wince or cry out. It measures our ability to see ourselves at its most basic exhibition, as something flailing and losing, and quite embarrassing. It reminds me of the opening title sequence, in which the camera holds a frame and melts it into the fabric of the title, The Curse. Our faces distort, conjoin and deflate, but still hold the essence of being. If one can withstand the internal torment of mortified existence as it scrambles to reassemble itself into something beautiful and honorable, then one will find that no one is better than the other. I think this is what the camera is supposed to show.

The camera sometimes moves with a winded spirit, or lingers behind bushes and other cars, at times from great distances, or behind glass, something or someone is constantly watching. Similar events happen within our lives as well, and we define these occurrences as God, fate, destiny or luck. Just when Asher and Whitney believe the cameras are no longer on them they lower defenses, remove costumes, and become who they are. It is primarily these moments which reveal their motivations, their objectives. I believe most stories ask primordial questions of who is good and who is evil, and much of this is surmised by choice and action. Are these good people whom we watch, read about, listen to, are they actually good? And this term itself, “good,” could be broken down further into moral responsibility on one end, and the mere presence of niceties through forced smiles and piercing eyes on the other. What is being good? Why is it a singular ticket in most views to a happier world beyond our own? I believe it has to do with the mechanism of time. There is only a finite space wherein everything lives, breathes, and dies, and whether our actions have a place in this limited alcove is not up for discussion. I would argue it is the only choice to be made, that living in respect of one another, allowing things to blossom in their natural course without the tamperings of injustice, violence, and immorality, is our path. I feel this is why purgatory is so useful for describing our reality, since it is filled with the intimacies of heaven and hell, duality in service of one another. It is eternal suffering until release.

Are Asher and Whitney truly good people? I think everyone in the privacy of their home lacks moral fortitude. When no one is watching we shed and lie naked in the idea of who we are and who we think we are, and who we think others think we are. But once the cameras are on there is a tendency to slip into imitations of charity, courage and kindness, because we want the world to believe this is who we truly are. In some ways we are doomed to repeat these mental gymnastics eternally, there is only one shot left, we cannot repeat or make up, but we can try to do better to and for one another. The ending of The Curse is obscure, read into it what you will. I found myself relieved by the fact Asher was leaving the cursed world below him, maybe to something better, leaving those trapped in their self assured purgatorial existences. Perhaps the camera is just the wandering soul of Asher, watching himself on an endless loop.