The Haunted Heaven: Chapter Six: L'enfer est la famille!
By Michael Moriarty
This morning I had to add these thoughts to this chapter on the dying American family:
Apropos of last week's entry on James Joyce, the opening movement of my String Symphony is certainly Irish enough. I'm too old to dance that jig now but, when first composed, I used to "Troll" around to it in my living room.
Computer playbacks are not the lovely dream I've already enjoyed in live performance by the Calgary Symphony Orchestra … but … the memories are there, particularly the second movement which, I must say, begins to capture the wandering loneliness my sister and I felt as the foundations of our safety on earth were being threatened. The legato feeling I intend, however, is lost in the computer playback.
As a friend once described the second movement: a child hunting for God and finally finding Him.
Now the Third Movement, an allegretto, begins to reveal some of the harmonic liberties I begin to take that lead to where I have now gone in my Concerto For Orchestra.
The final movement of Symphony For Strings? Ironically my favorite, despite the bad reception from one critic in a Midwestern town, the name of which I forget because of that critic. He liked the first three movements but found the fourth disappointing, too passé.
After the judgment of my mother that I was doomed to face within a few years, only one bad review in my professional acting years came close to hurting me as much as the label of "Judas", and that was Pauline Kael's review of my performance in Report To The Commissioner. However, we will come to that all "too soon enough".
How do we lead to my decision to leave the care of my mother for the distant but relatively "functioning" sanity of my father?
Well, coming home one day to the house my mother had burned down to the ground with her drunkenness and cigarettes, I somehow knew that it was merely the prelude to an even more terrifying spectacle: my mother's attempted suicide.
With my father's departure from our house, taking his entire, voluminous record collection with him – and therefore most of my bliss in life – came my first glimpse of Sartre's hellish No Exit, his bitterest definition of existence: "Hell is other people!"
The original French, "L'enfer est les autres!" came to me years later amidst a combination of Dartmouth College's idea of theater and those, still-haunting French classes I had also attended in Hanover, New Hampshire.
I'd much prefer talking about my female French professor than face the specter of my mother's attempted death by sleeping pills. Those two images alone, my mother and the alluring and brilliant Madame Veza of Paris, France: hell and heaven.
There, between the paradise of my French teacher's faith in me and the hell of my mother's suicide attempt and subsequent damnation of me, lies the fairly all-encompassing range of my experience with the opposite sex.
Until, of course, Maria Luisa Calla of Italy entered my life to adopt me as her son … but … well … that is almost sixty years ahead of my first encounter with suicide.
Here I must stop to thank God for the miraculous present of a second chance at childhood. Maria Luisa Calla lifted me out of a bitter resignation toward the major ingredients of family as hell itself.
L'enfer est ma famille!
My blood link, partially the title of one more bad film I was to make later, held something less than even a faint hope. Repeated familial nightmares throughout my history have defined my life as basically a loner.
When you despair of your own family, you walk with minimal expectations of the rest of humanity.
Expectations of love, that is.
If you are drinking, which I was doing with suicidal intent for ten years in Canada, you accept the slightest attention as water to a drowning man.
"This relationship will end up like all the rest!"
How I was dragged out of that spiral I can only attribute to divine intervention and, of course, the spiritual power contained in the lessons of Alcoholics Anonymous.
"Let go, let God."
It is that simple.
With my surrender to that simplicity, my adoptive mother, Maria Luisa Calla, appeared via the internet. She will, of course, be appearing and reappearing in Haunted Heaven quite frequently.
Maria Luisa Calla is the perfect Catholic antidote to this Communist Islamic and American Progressive double-team on the entire human race and Judeo-Christianity in particular.
This is an increasingly large family which I have joined … uh … "to the death" so to speak.
Having hunted for my real family all my life, this profound recognition of which side I'm on is the central heart of my Haunted Heaven.
Le Paradis est ma famille de la Verité.
As I wrote Mamma today, Dante no longer has anything on my own experiences of life.
Ironically, with all the French floating around this chapter, the truth is that France –in its horrifying Revolutionary days and the communes of the 18th Century – was the conceptual womb of Communism itself.
It has been the French Revolution vs. the American Revolution ever since.
Presently the French Communists are winning worldwide. What is this now covert Soviet Empire but the diabolical offspring of Robespierre?
And what is the meaning of the Obama Nation and Progressive New World Order but the ultimate victories of Marx, Lenin, Stalin and Mao combined?
However, when Christ said, "I am not of this world", he meant it entirely. The world which Red Islam or the increasingly obvious, Communist Jihads are imprisoning under terror is actually meaningless to the ultimate leadership of the Judeo-Christian Civilization.
I just listened to the first movement of my Concerto For Orchestra. It is the technical warm up for the final movement which actually has Sardonico and Satirico intertwined at a technically and more challengingly bitter clip.
The inner movements of Andante and Allegretto Orientale should let the audience and musicians relax a bit in preparation of the orchestra's wild sprint in the fifth movement.
Both the Andante and the Allegro Orientale, I believe, portends further, musical adventures in China particularly.
The Red Violin's later pass through Red China, a chilling portion of that very extraordinary movie, prophesies the West's ultimate and entirely aesthetic victory over Communism.
You will, of course, realize how similar the virtuoso performance contained in this clip of Red Violin evokes memories of the Joycean liberation erupting in Ulysses and Finnegan's Wake.
Meanwhile, Red China will be the last Communist bastion to fall, but fall, indeed, it will.
The ultimate divinity of individual freedom.
Without which no human genius can be sustained.
Without the ability or even willingness to nurture the individual freedom of genius, the Marxist Progressive Movement is utterly without real Progress, and its fate is inevitably suicide.
As for the Soviets and Vladimir Putin's neo-Soviets?
Their very dangerous games of flirtation with Islam will bring their now worldwide and transparently covert powers to an end.
The West and Judeo-Christianity as Red Islam's common enemy?
Thieves are eternally and virulently susceptible to their infinite "fallings out".
Both the Communists and all of Radical Islam's leadership are thieves, both salivating over the conquest of the West. Their representatives in America are all parts of the American Progressive Movement, more than open to a gracefully disgraceful surrender.
America is now in the political stage of a Second Civil War, the stakes of which will inevitably drive the United States into violence.
Perhaps the Progressive and Red Islamic hold upon America will loosen with the victories of Tea Partiers in the mid-term, 2010 elections. However, the depth of infiltration, even into the Tea Partiers, by the Progressive Reds?
Its corruptive influence, with the indispensible help of George Soros, is unstoppable.
As the song goes: "Money, money, money, money!"
Only when America begins to overturn Roe v Wade, the legalization of murder, state by state, will the Red Islamic Progressive Movement in America begin to collapse. As long as America believes in the legalization of murder, she will find herself committing not only national but metaphysical suicide.
"Michael, how can you possibly get a publisher to produce this political rant and still call it an autobiography?!"
I don't intend to ask anyone to "publish" it. It will be run in enterstageright.com chapter by chapter. It's my "Tough Love" letter to my former homeland.
Then I will let History do what it must. As for myself, I pit my blissful combination of music and writing against the inevitably bloody politics of President Barack Obama's Marxist bias for a Red Islamic triumph over the United States.
Treat History with the same abandon that History treats us. As we repeat ourselves involuntarily, so does History, of necessity, repeat itself.
In the midst of this nightmare, Americans can play the yurodivy or "Fool" as well or better than Soviets.
Jackie Gleason is a helluva lot more entertaining than Bertolt Brecht.
Michael Moriarty is a Golden Globe and Emmy Award-winning actor who starred in the landmark television series Law and 4Order from 1990 to 1994. His recent film and TV credits include The Yellow Wallpaper, 12 Hours to Live, Santa Baby and Deadly Skies. Contact Michael at email@example.com.