Just this week, Roman Polanski, one of the most celebrated film directors of the 20th and 21st centuries, was arrested in Switzerland and awaits extradition. Polanski is wanted in the United States for “unlawful sexual intercourse with a minor,” a crime he was convicted of in 1977.
Polanski fled the United States for France shortly after his conviction and has continued directing films in Europe ever since, including 2002’s Best Picture Academy Award winner, The Pianist.
Polanski’s contributions to cinematic culture are uncontestable; his name, however, will forever be associated with the fact that he once drugged and raped a thirteen-year-old girl. Does Polanski’s legacy as a pre-pubescent penetrator interfere with the legacy of his work, or can his art stand alone?
Creativity often comes in strange packages. Artists tend to be very eccentric individuals. Certain art forms seem to be more forgiving than others—a painter can probably get away with more than a Disney Starlet. Vincent Van Gogh, Pablo Picasso, Michael Jackson, and even the youthful Chris Brown all have led less-than stellar personal lives, doing harm to their families and friends, yet their work has transcended their reputations, allowing us to appreciate the art in its own right. Most public figures, not just artists, face similar issues relating to their personal habits and public perception.
Consider Michael Vick. Depending on your point of view, he’s either an outstanding football player or a heartless animal abuser. To the non-artist, the same psychology applies—can you still watch him play football knowing he has done some pretty awful things? Time will tell whether or not his audience will forgive his actions.
Even Tom Cruise: just a few years ago, it became quite apparent that the most infamous scientologist was, well, kind of a nutcase. How about jumping on a couch and screaming on daytime TV? I can remember thinking about what a weirdo this guy would be in real life as I watched him in War of the Worlds. Sadly, Risky Business will never be the same.
Woody Allen is probably my favorite writer/director—not to be confused with my favorite celebrity. While his artistic brilliance is unquestionable, his life choices arguably border on pedophilia. Romancing your own adopted daughter (when still married to your wife) isn’t something that our society is quite ready to accept as part of the realm of social normalcy —sorry, Woody.
Allen presents additional challenges while trying to separate the art from the artist. While he writes and directs his films, Allen also stars in many of them as a character supposedly closely resembling the real-life Woody Allen. In Manhattan, he plays the role of a 40-something man in a romantic relationship with a 17-year-old high school student, a relationship that, even on the island Allen calls home, I’d hardly call appropriate.
I have never met Woody Allen or Roman Polanski, and I don’t plan on getting to know either of them anytime soon. Their personal choices don’t affect me, but their creative output can still bring me great enjoyment. Don’t let the artist become intertwined with his work: art can be perfect; people never are.
Could you tell me what harm Michael Jackson did to anybody?