Lux et Luxe

The other night I watched Otto Preminger’s wonderful 1962 film Advise and Consent, based on Alan Drury’s 1960 novel of the same name. I was struck by how it seemed at once very contemporary and entirely dated. On the one hand, the kind of smear tactics and dirty dealing and political maneuvering portrayed in the film are very much with us. On the other, much of the social context has completely changed.

One thing that truly has changed, and probably forever, is the degree of formality in public and private life. They way people dressed, the boundaries of acceptable behavior as defined by sex and social status, were much more narrowly prescribed. The men and women in this movie are adult in a way that is very different from adulthood now. I am sure there are still social circles with glittering parties and glamorous attire, but very few of them (except in the most demanding arenas of diplomatic protocol) will be as structured and unforgiving of individual eccentricities and tastes as those of fifty years ago.

I was reminded this past weekend that some people—a dwindling number, certainly—still dress up to go the symphony. (I too chose to upgrade significantly from jeans, but not all the way to evening attire.) The Kennedy Center was opened to the public in 1971, and its 1960s opulence bespeaks one last whiff of Camelot luxe. A country that prides itself on populism and the wisdom of the unvarnished common man probably could not have long tolerated a sophisticated cultural elite reigning at the pinnacle of power. Lee Harvey Oswald’s bullets prevented us from finding that out, but my guess is that we would have had a return to the “aw, shucks” school of aesthetics sooner rather than later anyway.

I think one of the reasons that President Obama, who was raised far away from the corridors of power and affluence and who rose to influence by dint of his intellect, hard work, and personal charisma, is considered an “elitist” is that his political presence is formal. His speech is measured, he carries himself in an a posture more dignified than relaxed, and he doesn’t seem interested in constantly proffering his “just folks” credentials. (I suspect that much of this is the legacy of being a black man wanting to be taken seriously, and to provide no hold for negative stereotyping, in still white-dominated environments.) In modern American culture, formality is suspect: automatically assumed to be insincere, inauthentic, even deceptive.

A lot of what has changed in our culture is very much for the better. I do feel the loss, however, of the kind of formality that is a demonstration and expression of mutual respect. Formality provides a way of acknowledging our differences and our current lack of intimacy, while maintaining the possibility of further future accord and better acquaintance. Formality offers a way to separate the person from the role, while acknowledging the value of both. Formality also protects the inner life of the individual, allowing him or her to participate in the social sphere without having to bare the soul or emote publicly. Those who bemoaned the lack of self-expression in formal interactions didn’t fully appreciate how it protected the participants’ privacy. “Letting it all hang out,” it turns out, has some significant downsides for all concerned, and the emphasis on authenticity can quickly turn into TMI (viz: just about every reality show on television).