There's an unusual new movie playing in a handful of American cities right now called "Mrs. Parker and The Vicious Circle." It chronicles the lives of the writer Dorothy Parker and her intellectual circle of friends that comprised the famous Algonquin Circle -- a group that pretty much sat around in their hotel lounge and drank themselves silly. Brought to magnificent life by Jennifer Jason Leigh (with any justice, she'll score an Oscar nomination for her performance), Dorothy Parker is something of a tour-de-force -- a brilliantly funny, mordant and nasty commentator on everything and everyone around her. It was her drinking, of course, that was legendary -- days, weekends, occasionally even longer would pass in drunken blackness. Parker deserves perhaps a bit of admiration though; if nothing else, she could be wildly funny, extraordinarily creative and extremely drunk all at once.
Taking my inspiration from Dorothy Parker, I decided it was time for a Lost Weekend of my own -- a drunken odyssey through the Dartmouth universe. And what better weekend to go through with my plans than Winter Carnival. I would begin drinking shortly after my 2A class on Thursday afternoon, and continue straight through (with appropriate stops for lunch, dinner and vomiting) until early Sunday morning. By Monday night everything would be a distant memory. If I was lucky, maybe at some point I'd say something funny. Perhaps I could even try writing my column drunk and see if I came up with anything particularly brilliant.
My plans never quite came off. I spent most of Thursday trying to figure out how I could manage to see both the Loew and Spaulding movies without having to skip either of my classes. After the movies, I just went back to my room, did some reading and went to sleep. I tried again Friday, but things kept getting in the way, and by the time Saturday evening rolled around, and I hadn't even begun drinking, I finally realized that my Lost Weekend was just not going to happen.
Fortunately at Dartmouth, a great many others had the same idea; at the very least, I got to experience my Lost Weekend vicariously, through the dozens of people I saw stumbling past me at various points during the weekend.
I soon began to realize, however, that a Lost Weekend at Dartmouth probably wouldn't be much fun anyway. For one thing, no one ever says things that are particularly scathing or original. In fact, when I listen to conversations in fraternity basements, they are almost always talking about where they are going to get drunk next.
I have a rather large family, and each year there are invariably dozens of birthdays, anniversaries and weddings. I often joke to my parents that it seems most of our family gatherings are designed for the sake of planning the next family gathering. The Dartmouth party scene is not that different, it seems; parties designed so everyone can stand around, get drunk and look forward to the next party. When do Dartmouth students finally arrive at the "real" party? Or does it never end, and when senior week rolls around, will I find people planning what bars they'll meet up at after their Alcoholics Anonymous meetings in New York City?
Even more dismaying, though, is the fact that at Dartmouth, there simply isn't room to say anything particularly witty, nasty or Dorothy Parker - esque. Here, one simply can't be mean. Last week, for instance, I suggested in my column, that Dartmouth might be a somewhat competitive institution. I received personal blitzes and read published responses, in all cases the writers expressed dismay, and occasionally shock that I would say such a thing. The idea of competitveness simply does not align with the general vision of Dartmouth as a winter wonderland. The argument in response is a very predictable one: "competitiveness occurs elsewhere, but not here." I sometimes forget, but I'm glad that there are always people around to remind that Dartmouth is perfect.
But, lately, one can't even crack a joke about the place. For instance, try saying (as I did this weekend) in a crowded spot on campus, "Wow, the Carnival Sculpture looks much more like a penis this year than last year's. That new system really works nicely", and see how many vicious looks you get from the people standing around you.
If Dartmouth is so great, then why are people so afraid of criticisms of it -- so afraid and seemingly vulnerable to suggestions of imperfection in Hanover? Why can't people simply accept the fact that, when you think about it, we live in a rather absurd place?
For all the alcohol here, I tend to think that if Dorothy Parker somehow came back to life and found herself at Dartmouth during Winter Carnival weekend, she wouldn't have very much fun. Even though she'd find herself at a place not all too different from the world she inhabited in the 1920's -- a sort of societal vacuum, strangely bereft of values, ideals or vision -- she'd probably be appalled to find that it's a place where people are desperately unwilling to be critical, where people take their Lost Weekends far too seriously.
