The show must go on

The future is in our past -

Some people remember where they were when John F. Kennedy was killed. That day, they lost their innocence. Until then President John Fitzgerald Kennedy was a mythical figure, larger than life, that could out perform all leaders on the world stage and emerge with reputation unscathed.

The assassination changed that perception. As soon as the President had taken his last breath the vultures swooped down to devour his corpse. In the time it takes to say Jack Robinson, his bones were picked clean, exposing the skeletons that left no doubt the President had been merely a flesh and blood human.

Across the globe, people lost their innocence on that day in 1963. My mother got me out of bed to tell me that President Kennedy was assassinated. It didn't seem sensible that she would awaken me with the news that an American president had been shot. Holding no special appeal for me, President Kennedy's death presented as sad and unnecessary, but c'est la vie! My innocence remained intact until much later.

The defining moment in my loss of innocence was an altogether different case. It wasn't the loss of a glittering presidential figure that opened my eyes. It was something much more mundane. My innocence took a direct hit while watching an interview on Canadian television with Ken Kercheval, who played Cliff Barnes - the arch enemy of the Ewings on the hit TV show Dallas.

When asked how the show was going to unfold (the actual question eludes me now; it was probably 'who shot JR?'), Ken replied that he didn't know. He went on to say that he never read the scripts and only went to the set to deliver his lines. He didn't know anything about what was going to happen. And, as he didn't watch the show, he didn't even know the story.

Ken's response stunned me. He didn't read the script? He didn't care about the outcome? He just knew his personal lines? How could that be? North America was glued to the TV screen waiting with bated breath to see how the story was going to unfold and Ken didn't care. It was too much for me to assimilate. It was just too, too much.

Of course, Ken Kercheval did me a favour. He opened my eyes to the possibility of questioning the difference between actual reality and the reality that we are invited to accept through indoctrination, in all aspects of our lives, church, state and the media. Never again would it be possible for me to be sucked into a script or a book or anything that portrayed humans as larger than life.

This seemingly insignificant little incident told me that actors in a show might not have a single clue about the words they are saying with authority and gusto. Eloquence is a gift of style, not necessarily substance. Since that fateful day, each program and speech, including political, has been viewed through the jaundiced eyes of a disabused person.

And now we have a different story, the very sad story of a man who captured all our hearts in the Kung Fu movies. David Carradine was found dead in a luxury hotel room in Bangkok Thailand. In the 1970s, David Carradine became famous for playing Kwai Chang Caine, an orphan who was raised by Shaolin monks and who fled China after he killed the Emperor's nephew to avenge the murder of his Kung Fu Master. Carradine became famous again in the Kill Bill movies, portraying an elderly hired killer Master.

We have this image of David Carradine as a serene, wise, have-seen-it-all person who couldn't possibly be engaged in such bizarre sexual acts as the rumour mill is proliferating. Perhaps no one will ever know the circumstances that led to his death. However, a little digging reveals that, for some time, he did have a drug and alcohol problem. That would suggest that David Carradine, the person, was a character remarkably different from his movie roles.

Carradine had always given the impression that he knew something about his roles, as he wrote a book and made videos on martial arts such as TaÏ Chi, the internal art that is supposed to bring equilibrium and serenity. Many people will find it difficult to believe that David Carradine, the cult figure, was anything but wise and judicious. It won't be easy to consider that David Carradine, like Ken Kercheval, was merely delivering lines from a movie script, having no internal idea of the actual personality of the character that he was portraying.

Some actors seem to be the characters they are playing. Like David Carradine, Ronald Reagan played a role, until his death. He was so believable that he was elected President of the United Stated of America. Reagan was lucky for, even when suffering from Alzheimer's disease, he still could perform without a hitch and his life was never exposed to widespread public scrutiny.

Is fate the luck of the draw in life's lottery or is one's fate the result of circumstances? And who would throw the first stone, having never him/herself been the show?