Farrow’s Tweet: A Discussion of Art and the Morality of the Artist

The history of art is full of reprehensible behavior. Should that matter?

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Missed the Woody Allen tribute – did they put the part where a woman publicly confirmed he molested her at age 7 before or after Annie Hall?

That’s Ronan Farrow, son of Mia Farrow and probably Frank Sinatra, tweeting during the Golden Globes about his father of record, Woody Allen. He’s referencing allegations made by one of his siblings that Allen molested her as a child. The filmmaker also married one of Farrow’s daughters after a relationship that began when she was 19 and he was 56. Whether one focuses on the indisputable events of Allen’s private life or the allegations against him, Woody comes up creepy, at the very least.

And on the other hand, there’s Woody Allen the Entertainer, a brilliant humorist whose professional career began in 1950 as a writer for the television show The Colgate Comedy Hour and continues through this year’s Magic in the Moonlight. Along the way Woody Allen the Entertainer made some films that transcended entertainment and became art—Annie Hall, Zelig, and Stardust Memories all come to mind.

Ronan Farrow’s tweet kicked off another wave of “ban Woody Allen” public pillorying, a conversation that the filmmaker has had to contend with for two decades, and I find myself struggling with that ethical dilemma. I’ve been a fan of fan of Woody Allen the Entertainer since I was a young boy who caught  Sleeper on television, but as a father and a human being I can’t shake the fact that Woody Allen the Man sure comes up creepy.

Allen is not the first artist whose private life hovers like a storm cloud over his work (see also: Roman Polanski).  A young Leonard Da Vinci was charged in 1476 with sodomy involving a male prostitute. Michelangelo’s homoerotic poetry was published fifty years after his death with the gender pronouns changed. By contemporary standards a few poems about loving men may not be scandalous, but keep in mind we’re talking about the 16th century and the man behind (beneath?) the Sistine Chapel ceiling.

Fatty Arbuckle was big box office back in 1921 when he was accused of raping Virginia Rappe. Three trials later he was acquitted, but not before his career (and many of his films) were permanently destroyed.

Walt Disney remains to this day plagued by accusations of anti-Semitism, most of which have their origin in his alliance with the Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals. Author Henry Miller is another artist who carries the anti-Semite millstone around his neck.

Hemingway was a womanizer; Faulkner and Fitzgerald both drunks. In 1895 Oscar Wilde was chucked into prison for “gross indecency.”

Elvis took up with Miss Priscilla when she was 14, and this isn’t even the most notorious case in the history of rock and roll debauchery: Jerry Lee Lewis married his cousin, Myra, when she was 13. Throughout the music world stories of under-aged groupies and mud sharks abound. And then there’s Gary Glitter, the man behind the once ubiquitous stadium anthem “Rock and Roll Part 2.” Glitter (real name: Paul Francis Gadd) has been tried and convicted on both child pornography and statutory rape charges.

Remember the principal, Mr. Rooney, from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off? That’s actor Jeffrey Jones, who pleaded no contest to soliciting a 14 year-old boy to pose for explicit photos. Paul Reubens, aka Pee Wee Herman, enjoyed a movie just a little too much, and George Michael had a bit too much Faith in the occupants of a Beverly Hills public restroom.

Perhaps the most notorious case in recent memory is the late Michael Jackson, he of the sleepovers and the “Jesus juice” and the bestselling album in music history. Jackson’s scandals loomed large over the last 20 years of his career, though he was never convicted of any wrongdoing. The allegations that plagued Michael Jackson the Man still leave many conflicted over enjoying Michael Jackson the Entertainer.

And these are just examples that come immediately to mind. We can add Rick James and Hugh Grant to that list, too, along with myriad artists who were philanderers, abusers, addicts, felons, racists, and assholes. The history of art is peppered with artists whose work is magnificent (okay, maybe not Hugh Grant’s) but who upon investigation come up creepy.

But what of their art? Can (or should) a piece of art transcend the artist? Is there a point where a painting, book, film, or piece of music belongs to humanity rather than its creator? Apparently the answer is yes, considering that the Catholic Church never painted over Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling, and they weren’t exactly tolerant of homosexuality prior to Pope Francis. Similarly, millions still enjoy Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland regardless of longstanding suspicions that its author was a pedophile.

The great differentiator seems to be time. Given time the perpetrators are no longer around to profit nor are the victims around to suffer the pain and indignity of seeing their tormentors praised for their artistic greatness. What remains of Leonardo, for example, is his body of work. His biography does not intrude upon the Mona Lisa.

But the victims of a contemporary artist (or “artist” if you prefer) like Gary Glitter are still very much alive. Watching a clip of that creepy old molester singing “Do You Want to Touch Me?” must be torture for them, and I suspect that this is what Ronan Farrow and his family must grapple with every time Woody Allen the Entertainer rears his balding head. I can’t imagine how difficult that must be for them.

So when all of the principles in those heinous events are gone and a respectable amount of time has passed, will Annie Hall stand as a canonical work in the history of film? Will it take its place alongside the other Sistine Chapels that transcend the biographies of their creators? I don’t know, but Woody Allen the Man sure comes up creepy, and I’m afraid that has permanently affected my ability to appreciate the work of Woody Allen the Entertainer.

—images public domain / Wikimedia Commons