Joe Orton

Joe strikes a provocative pose, as always.

There's a warm pleasure in re-discovering an author you haven't read in a long while. That's what happened when I came upon a slender volume of Joe's Orton's play "What the Butler Saw" on a recent library visit. I had quite an interest in Joe Orton about 5-6 years ago and read most of his stuff. It started when I found an anthology of his plays in the discount bin of an independent bookstore in Washington, DC. I then read not only his plays but also some of his early novels, his diaries, and the excellent biography written by John Lahr.

The fact is that his personality and life are at least as interesting as his work: born to a working class in Leiscester, UK in 1933. While attending secretarial school he got into amateur theatricals and secured a scholarship to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. It was there that he met Kenneth Halliwell, who was to be his lover, mentor, and murderer. Halliwell was already in his mid-20s, came from a middle class background, was intelligent and cultivated, and since his parents had both died he had inherited enough money to be financially independent.

They moved in together in the homophobic environment of early 1950s England. They worked in regional theatrical productions for a few years, but then they gave up on the theater career. Using some of Halliwell's inheritance they bought a tiny bedsit in Islington, London. They gave up on regular work, living on Halliwell's money, unemployment benefits, and occasionally doing a few month's work at a Cadbury's factory. Under Halliwell's guidance Orton started reading voraciously. Then they started writing novels together, which because they were way ahead of their time were all rejected by publishers. 

They lived a monastic life, writing and reading all day, spending as little money as possible: they would go to bed when the sun went down to save on electricity. In a sense, they were part of the beat movement that was taking off in the US at the time -- they rejected conventional goals for their life, lived independently and on the margin, and their works openly mocked all the ideals and little hipocrisies of society. During this time they also got into trouble and spent a few months in jail: they amused themselves by sneaking books out of their local library, putting new subversive and very funny dust jackets and flap cover descriptions on them and returning them. They liked to think of the staid Islington burgers when they checked out. However, after some time they were caught and prosecuted for vandalism. That didn't faze Orton much, because as his agent later said: "Jail gives a writer credentials. Everyone else it takes them away."

Example of Orton's and Halliwell's jokes, which cost them jail-time. Ironically, these "vandalized" books are now the most valuable in the Islington public library collection.

Then, Orton started writing on his own. In the early 60s he got a radio play accepted by the BBC, and from then on he steadily climbed towards success and fame. His plays both delighted and shocked the British public and he was hailed as the "Oscar Wilde of the welfare society." His success left Halliwell envious, left out, and depressed, taking more and more pills. Orton started making a lot of money and consorting with celebrities like the Beatles, while Halliwell still hadn't been able to publish a thing.

Halliwell spiraled into severe depression, in the summer of 1967 Orton insisted he see a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist was thinking of recommending that Halliwell go into a psychiatric hospital. Orton had become increasingly promiscuous since his success began and was considering ending the relationship. One night in August after an argument, Halliwell beat Orton's brains out as he slept and then committed suicide with pills. Joe Orton was 34 -- his productive period as a playwright lasted less than 4 years.

Why do I like Joe Orton's plays? Well, first of all he's funny, and has great one-liners Oscar Wilde style. Also, he was probably the best writer of farces of the 20th century -- his plays thrive on anarchy, confusion, and subversion. The farce genre, dating back to the Ancient Greek tradition (for example Sophocles) with which Orton was well familiar, is based on showing the chaos and ridicule of human society. There's something in that that appeals to me, because it reveals a basic fact about the human condition as I see it: we are hypocrites, chaotic, confused, and very ridiculous. We are evolved apes who think because we can handle tools we are made in God's image. Our attempts at dignity are usually self-serving and pompous. As Napoleon said: "there's only a small step from the sublime to the ridiculous".

To those interested in Joe Orton I recommend you start with the great 1987 movie based on his life, with none other than Gary Oldman playing Orton -- the title is "Prick up Your Ears".

I wonder how Orton's life would have turned out if he hadn't died so young. Would he still be making fun of us? Would his craft have gone to still greater heights? Or would he have become comfortable and an establishment figure?

I leave with some quotes I like from "What the Butler Saw", so you'll know what I'm talking about:

"MRS PRENTICE: Have you ever given thought to a male secretary?

DR PRENTICE: A man could never get used to the work.

MRSP: My father had a male secretary. My mother said he was much better than a woman.

DRP: I couldn't ask a young fellow to do overtime and then palm him off with a lipstick or a bottle of Yardley's. It'd be silk suits and Alfa Romeos if I so much as breathed on him.

MRSP: Try a boy for a change. You're a rich man. You can afford the luxuries of life."

"MRSP: (in a surprised tone) What are you doing with that dress?

DRP: (pause) It's an old one of yours.

MRSP: Have you taken up transvestism? I had no idea our marriage teetered on the edge of fashion."

"DRP: It's a fascinating theory, sir, and cleverly put together. Does it tie in with known facts?

DR RANCE: That need not cause us undue anxiety. Civilizations have been founded and maintained on theories which refused to obey facts."

"SERGEANT MATCH: You must realize this boy is bringing a serious charge against you?

DRP: Yes. It's ridiculous. I'm a married man.

SM: Marriage excuses no one from the freaks' roll call."

"DRP: I couldn't commit the act. I'm a heterosexual

DRR: I wish you wouldn't use these Chaucerian words. It's most confusing."

"DRP: I'm not mad. It only looks that way.

DRR: Your actions today would get the Archbishop of Canterbury declared non-compos.

DRP: I'm not the Archbishop of Canterbury.

DRR: That will come at a later stage of your illness."

"DRP: I'm a rationalist.

DRR: You can't be a rationalist in an irrational world. It isn't rational."

"MRSP: (rising, stumbling to the desk) Oh, doctor, during your absence my husband became violent and struck me. (She pours a whisky)

DRR: Did you enjoy it?

MRSP: At first. But the pleasures of the senses quickly pall."

"DRR: I've published a monograph on the subject. I wrote it at University. On the advice of my tutor. A remarkable man. Having failed to achieve madness himself he took to teaching it to others.

DRP: And you were his prize pupil?

DRR: There were some more able than I.

DRP: Where are they now?

DRR: In mental institutions.

DRP: Running them?

DRR: For the most part."

"GERALDINE: I must be a boy. I like girls.

(DR RANCE stops and wrinkles his brow, puzzled)

DRR: I can't quite follow the reasoning there.

DRP: Many men imagine that a preference for women is ipso facto a proof of virility.

DRR: Someone should really write a book on these folk-myths."

"DRP: I want you to co-operate with me in getting things back to normal in this house.

NICK: (soothingly) You can rely on me, sir.

DRP: It would help me considerably if you'd take your clothes off."