A Better Mark

Sure, he was born Samuel Clemens, but since he took the name "Mark Twain," I've always felt a special warmth towards this great, maybe greatest American writer, since a young boy. I saw Hal Holbrook perform his Mark Twain Tonight on a television special back in 1967 (I believe he last performed it in 2005 at age 80, finally over 10 years older than Twain when he died) and while I've long forgotten the words, I still remember the greatness.

Twain's great gift, of course, was to bring truth to narrative print. And for Memorial Day there's a new animated video of his first rejected for publication in 1905 then finally published in 1923, thirteen years after his death, because as Twain wrote to a friend:

"I don't think the prayer will be published in my time. None but the dead are permitted to tell the truth."

The War Prayer film was masterminded by Markos Kounalakis in San Francisco, with Peter Coyote reading beautifully and legendary Beat poet and bookstore owner Lawrence Ferlinghetti (born nine years after Twain's death, i.e. 88 years old) as well as West Coast radio dramatist Erik Bauersfeld taking roles. The animation is reminiscent of a certain Post-WWII War style, completely drawn, with the camera doing any of the animation.

It tells of a church service climaxed with a sermon in support of the widespread war movement, the people reacting like sheep, and the arrival of a stranger with a terrible warning. It's basically a harrowing bullet about how church and state work together to gin up war support, appealing to base and selfish emotion over greater consideration of pain and anarchy such as is always unleashed.

It sounds oh so 2003.

Kevin Drum has more background on the piece, as Kounalakis publishes him online in Washington Monthly. As a commenter on Drum's post, frankly0 writes,

What I found interesting about Twain's poem is that it bases its appeal only on the damage wrought by a successful war, and only to the opposing side.

Not even spoken is the possibility that the war might be a failure, or entirely without point, or that harm might come to the loved ones sent off to fight.

Mark Twain: still ahead of our time.