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Tales Of The (Brisbane) City
It's exactly noon, two weeks to Christmas, and a
scorching 35 degrees.
Inside the Lawley Room at the Brisbane Hilton, about 100 people who've
paid $45 a head for lunch, are awaiting the entrance of a speaker, an
author many present consider a legend.
Critics worldwide have lauded Armistead Maupin as one of the greatest 20th
century social commentators. Thus it is his most casual observations have
become the most scintillating, as they are seen to be observations of the
truth, of the times we live in.
Such scrutiny on schedule-packed tours, rarely bothers Maupin. Rather, he
thrives on it. And he tries to make each speech fresh for his audience,
taking time to catch up on local news, and get immersed in local
geography. And he's mindful of the fact that for most of the people in
front of him, his speech will be long remembered.
So, how does he cope with the large number of similar engagements?
"I was given the most valuable piece of advice in my whole life some years
back," Maupin confides. "They said, 'This may be the 1000th time you've
said it, but it'll be the first time they've heard it.'"
"I've never forgotten that advice," Maupin smiles broadly. "So I"m
fully
aware of the impact my visits may have - and I try to make it fresh and
meaningful for every person who comes along to listen to me."
Maupin looks pretty good these days... a little more solid, the ash-brown
hair now mostly silver. Wearing taupe pants, dark sage jacket and white
t-shirt, he appears to be a man that these days prefers the tranquility of
walking his dog along a quiet country lane, rather than competing with the
Body Beautifuls jogging down Main Street in San Francisco.
It's not for nothing Armistead Maupin, creator of the Tales of The City
book series, is regarded worldwide as a talented storyteller. With a knack
of describing late twentieth century lifestyle and mores, he depicts his
characters as old friends and family, with an exacting realism and candid
manner. Reading aloud portions of his latest manuscript (which will be
auctioned in May), the listeners became statues hypnotised by the calming
voice of Maupin, warm with descriptive phrases that were alive with
emphasis and emotion. As one listener later said, Maupin certainly has a
way of weaving his words into a special magic that washes over the
listeners.
>From the angle this writer was sitting while Maupin gave his speech, it
was interesting to note that Maupin's index finger occasionally poked out
of the lower pocket of his jacket while the other hand remained firmly on
the podium... proof that there's more to this writer's life than mending
holes in his jacket, and lending an air of ordinariness to the man
regarded in some circles as a kind of demi-god.
Like many authors, Maupin has an ethic that works for him: search and
destroy, expose and extricate. " I've opened up issues in my life for
fiction - like a magpie, I keep what shines and throw the rest away,"
Maupin grins, tossing in a phrase suited to his Brisbane audience before
him, during this most treacherous of Australian seasons; magpie nesting
time.
But the best news to eager ears is without doubt, the return of the Tales
of the City miniseries, presently being re-created with American public
broadcaster PBS. Following the first series screened two years ago (and
starring rising stars such as Due South's Paul Gross and Primal Fear's
Laura Linney) to global acclaim, the second series is being predicted by
critics worldwide as an even bigger hit.
Raising network interest for renewal of the series was not without its
initial battles. More than one major network turned the opportunity down,
leading to PBS again supporting the venture; a network, Maupin feels, is
the instinctive home of Tales of the City. The chief problem of course,
was the nudity, however 'ordinary' it was.
"CBS ran screaming into the night when pursued by the American Family
Association," Maupin recalls with a wide grin. "but PBS offered an
alternative vision - to create pixilation on the ends of the women's
breasts - which makes males more titillated, actually."
The television series on American public network PBS was, in Maupin's and
international critics' eyes, an outstanding success; but the author
himself held minor reservations about the casting at first.
"There were one or two characters that didn't work for me. In the two
years since (the first tv series), I've gotten really close to the actors
residing at 28 Barbary Lane, and we all talk regularly."
One actor in particular is eager to get back into the swing of things at
Russian Hill. Billy Campbell, aka Jon Fielding, is one of the new
generation of heterosexual actors who enjoys experimenting on screen for
art's sake.
"He is certifiably hetero," Maupin heartily laughs. "But when I rang him
to tell him (the second series was being made), the first thing he said
was: 'Are you going to get some more guys for me to kiss?... Okay, then
I'm ready!"
One of the hallmarks of TOTC is its casual attitude towards the
normal-ness of everyday life. When the first series aired, television
executives were up in arms over the references to nudity, coarse language,
and of course, the habitual pot-smoking of the tenants of the Barbary Lane
- not to mention the landlady herself.
The executives can put up and shut up, Maupin says, claiming most of them
are virtual eunachs. The realism is here to stay; in fact, he was a
regular visitor to the set of the new series to ensure the second
television edition lived up to his - and his millions of readers' -
expectations.
Maupin's long-time partner Terry Anderson is credited for the choice of
Olympia Dukakis who is now considered the embodiment of Anna Madrigal, to
perfection. Armistead rejected Dukakis outright initally for the role of
28 Barbary Lane's eccentric landlady with an unusual past. These days, he
openly admits reconsideration of that decision was pivotal to the success
of the television series.
Dukakis presently plays another role in Maupin's life: as his substitute
mother. In fact, he maintains close contact with her and rings her on one
special day, every year.
"My mother is dead, so who did I call on Mother's Day a few years ago?",
Maupin reveals touchingly. Dukakis, sister of American Presidential
candidate Michael, is instinctively a deeply maternal woman, Maupin says.
"I rang her, and said, you're the closest thing I have to a Mother - would
you mind?. She started crying..."
But on this particular day, there are other, more pressing issues on
Armistead Maupin's mind. The Queensland government has decided homosexuals
are not fit to adopt or care for children. Referring to the recent move
by the Queensland Family Services Minister, Kev Lingard to block child
adoptions by homosexuals in this state, Maupin responded that it was "a
bad vision which is patently cruel to huge numbers of unwanted children."
Good parenting just did not arise from one's sexual orientation, Maupin
emphatically declared. "There is nothing about heterosexuality that makes
you a good parent, and nothing bad about homosexuality that makes you a
good one."
Public perception of the AIDS epidemic is something Maupin never tires of
discussing. In fact, he is credited as being the first author to combine
the issues of homosexuality and AIDS into mainstream fiction. It's not so
much the issues themselves that caught the public's interest, however; but
rather, the ordinariness of the lives of those who face these issues every
day, within Maupin's pages.
Rumours that Michael will be killed off to AIDS is quickly refuted; "Good
characters always live!" Maupin assures us, with a widely sweeping
dismissal of his hand. Michael must survive the threat of AIDS, Maupin
says, and there is a very special reason. "There will be survivors of this
epidemic. In fact there are those at the moment, who are experiencing
'survivor guilt'."
Maupin is referring to the large numbers of gay men who are outliving the
spectre of painful death by AIDS: the post-AIDS survivors who feel guilty
because they have lost friends to the disease, yet survived themselves. It
doesn't make sense to them, says Maupin, that they should live and so many
others should die.
Adopting a matter-of-fact tone yet maintaining his casual demeanour,
Maupin explains: "There are so many people... who are realising that up to
10 years of their life has been wasted being careful and living life as it
were the end. And now that they are getting better, they are experiencing
huge guilt over a number of issues."
"A lot of them are depressed about the fact that they are going to live -
for 10 years they have been expecting to die; so many years wasted.
Maupin's partner of 12 years, Terry Anderson, is presently undergoing
treatment for AIDS, and is surviving and thriving. When asked about
Anderson's current state of health, Maupin is momentarily reflective. His
answer is practical and devoid of emotion.
"He really has refused to listen to negativity about (AIDS)... he's made
his own research, and is getting amazing results," he replied. "For the
first time, there is really hope, and we can hang onto it."
The American state of Georgia officially condemned the forthcoming new
television series of Tales of the city, a move which Maupin has awarded
the state with "a real badge of honour. There was a bomb threat at one
station."
Georgia, Maupin says, is missing the whole point of "Tales". Gay or
straight, life is full of ordinariness, nudity, and ups and downs.
"(Life) treats us all the same. It's not better for us (homosexuals) - we
are all in the same soup. The two can live together."
"So I take exception," Maupin says darkly, "when someone says, 'we have it
easier' - Heterosexuals don't have harder lives, homosexuals don't have
harder lives."
He takes exception too, to certain words bandied about in both gay and
straight presses. 'Lifestyle' is one of them. "There is no 'lifestyle' -
it's a LIFE", he emphasises. "I banned that word from my vocabulary, and
all writers should. In using it, you're making a wide generalisation."
"There's no lifestyle. And San Francisco," he grins wryly, "is the only
place in the world where I can walk down the street with my partner, and
hold hands - without committing a political act!"
After this literary lunch, there is a book signing. Doing it the old
fashioned way, with nary an auto-pen in sight, Maupin signs copies, new
and old, of the books from his TOTC series. Surprising enough, 10 minutes
after the signing has commenced, many patrons are still enjoying their $45
Hilton lunch. Perhaps it's true what they say - Brisbanites are
conservative about money wastage.
Writing left handed with the heavy silver ID bracelet turned down, away
from prying eyes, Maupin begins to scribble furiously. The first five or
so signatures are huge, flourishing affairs deeply engraved into the page.
Surprisingly, his choice in pen is rather ordinary; just a common-garden
blue biro, anything that will do the job.
One young woman fronts up to Armistead Maupin and promptly begins gushing,
much to his surprise. Not every Brisbanite is conservative, it seems; this
particular fan has no hesitation in telling Maupin he's virtually God. "I
want to tell you, I think you're the greatest writer ever, a wonderful
person, a legend, yada-yada-yada," the young lady gushes quickly, only
momentarily pausing for breath, as Maupin stares at her, uncertain how to
respond.
The fan, however, is not yet done. Her next line, however, hits the
jackpot with Maupin, as he continues signing her books. She even manages
to adopt a more serious tone, which makes him take notice. "Mr Maupin, I
saw you in 'The Celluloid Closet' and I want to say I identified with
everything you said. It's such an honour to meet you...Well done."
Maupin is definitely not expecting to hear this, but obviously pleased
because he instantly holds out his hand for the fan to shake. "When did
you see it?" he questions her. Seems it's not going to be released
officially in Australia for some time. But in this case, the young woman
has seen the documentary at the Brisbane International Film Festival
recently, and Maupin is very pleased someone in this small city has
thought to told him she loved it.
Julie Jansen is a Journalist In Training at the Queensland University Of Technology.