A Few Hypes You Should be Hip to by Now

Abstract

philosophies. need money because like to live. Now do you want to come in with me on this deal or not?' 'Me? Come in with you?' 'You write the script! can get you fifty grand up front and a piece of the action.' 'Wait a minute,' hesitated, 'What's the script about?' 'We are doing a street version of Othello. You know, a real hip version. Now don't laugh at the idea because it'll make us all rich. Get it? An' we gonna shoot it in an alley in Harlem. Othello is going to be a Black Panther. Desdemona is a white co-ed from Smith; lago is a jiveass junky off the street; Emilia is an afro-wearing revolutionary women's libber.' I laughed so hard that had to leave the room. When returned, Linky looked at me with disgust. 'What's wrong with you, man, is that you too goddam idealistic. Why is it that the white man can exploit black people, but the very moment that a black man attempts a new idea everybody jumps on his back like he was a crook. Why blame me? I'm just doing what everybody else is doing. Look at the French Connection, Precinct 45, and what about the novel you mentioned, The Confessions of Nat Turner? You liked that book, right?' 'Yes, did like it,' replied, 'It wasn't anything but a big hype, and the only person who wouldn't admit that was the author, and you can very well understand why he can't admit it.' 'What do you mean by calling the book a hype?' 'Well, look at the situation. PAGE 28 There it is 1968. The black militants are threatening to awaken the minds of the people to a revolutionary impulse. What the public needed was some white writer to explain these militants away. So one American gets the point, and seizes on the opportunity to make a big score and assuage his own guilt all these feelings he calls his inspiration. The publishing company calls it by still another name genius, talent. Anyway the book received the National Book Award because it got the literary establishment of ours in an impossible pinch. But see, white people pull hypes all the time, but no one is allowed to criticize them: they are artists!' I paused; had to think about it. Linky was on the case: 'But where are you getting the money from for your picture?' Taking out a gold cigarette lighter, he took his time lighting his cigarette. 'From the Israeli and Arab governments,' he said finally. 'What?' exclaimed. 'But they are enemies!' 'Nobody is enemies when they can make money together,' Linky informed me, and pointing rudely across the room: 'See the well-dressed man over there? He's an American ambassador. He told me that the war in Vietnam was the only way to prevent the race war that was imminent in the sixties. Now the blacks and whites kill the Vietcong rather than each other. But, back to my deal. You write the dialogue for my Othello in the Ghetto?' 'Well let me think about it.' 'Here, look at this, he said throwing down upon the table a manuscript. It was a parody of Othello written in fine language. 'That's part of it already,' he said, 'Can you improve on it?' glanced through a few pages: