JB: What inspired you to write a series of moral essays based on The Outlaw Josey Wales? How did a Clint Eastwood western flick become the muse for such a profound body of work?
JBM: Josey is a complex film. We see a mass murderer go through a process of possible redemption. I say possible because that determination lies in the viewer's mind. I believe that Josey Wales has been redeemed by the end of this film and that stories of human redemption are the most important stories we tell. The concept of moral redemption being granted to the human monster is one of the most beautiful gifts that Western Civilization has brought to the world. And I think it all comes out in the film that Clint Eastwood directed and acted in. I usually watch this movie once a year, and generally in the week between Christmas and New Year's. This past Christmas, that hippy stoner artist who lives in my brain's basement and who occasionally comes up with a brilliant idea, woke up and said to me, "Hey man, you should write about this movie..." And that's what started the project.
JB: That's a fascinating take on the film and the transformation of Josey Wales. It seems like the yearly tradition of watching the film allowed you to form a rich understanding of its underlying themes. The idea of human redemption indeed resonates deeply across cultures, akin to Scrooge's journey in A Christmas Carol or even Darth Vader's in Star Wars.
In watching The Outlaw Josey Wales, what moment or aspect of the film would you say epitomizes this idea of redemption, and how did you translate that into the essays you wrote? Also, were there any specific moral dilemmas or themes in the movie that challenged your perspective or made you rethink your initial interpretation?
JBM: Excellent call out to Vader and Scrooge. The latter is probably the most important story of redemption outside of the New Testament. Scrooge's transformation of moral character should be a model we all consider. I've never made that connection between these two films before, but I watch A Christmas Carol every year in some form (my favorite two are Scrooged with Bill Murray and the 1990s TNT production starring Sir Patrick Stewart).
Moving on to your question, the moment of true redemption for Josey Wales is when he shoots the men trying to rape Little Moonlight. It's the first time he's struck a blow for his own view of justice, not the bushwhackers he was riding with and their tormenting and murder of the Yankees and Red Legs. He shot those rapists because they were bad men doing a bad thing, and they deserved it. The problem is that outlaw justice is very emotional and often one-sided, like the kind he delivers to those men in that store. We can't build a community on a foundation of Outlaw Justice. It leads to instant corruption, terrible decisions, and often more moral crime than if the original deed had been let go and deferred to the common law.
JB: Well, that's an intriguing comparison and certainly adds another layer of complexity to the narrative of The Outlaw Josey Wales. This moment, where Josey makes the choice to act on his own sense of justice, is truly pivotal.
It reminds me of the vigilante justice we see in film and TV often, like Batman in Gotham or Dexter Morgan in his namesake series. These characters operate outside the law but in service of what they believe is Justice. However, as you rightly mentioned, such actions often lead to a further moral quandary.
In your essays, how did you tackle the theme of Outlaw Justice that Josey represents? Did you find yourself defending his actions, critiquing them, or exploring the gray areas in between?
JBM: Yes, I defend Josey Wales’ actions all throughout the book. The man’s wife and child were murdered by State-sanctioned vigilantes. We’d call both The Red Legs and the Bushwackers domestic terrorists or private armies today. Besides not dying as an enemy of the state, the primary conflict inside Josey Wales is abandoning a cause that has already abandoned him. The physical journey that takes place during this story is the last Outlaw from the losing side of the Civil War is making a run for the border of society, which at that time, lay down Mexico way, via the borderlands of Texas, where the Comanche Indians still maintained sovereignty. As a character, Josey Wales has to shed his past, everything but the will and potential to commit murder. He eventually gets to a point where he has nothing but the journey. And at this point, his gesture of sacrifice for Little Moonlight gathers two companions to his side (three, if you include the dog).
Protecting these people changes something inside Josey Wales. He has a purpose of service. He may even be developing warm feelings for people again. Eventually, he has a whole community around him, and they must come together to decide how to live. Josey Wales will maintain order through force or collaboration with conflicting parties like the Comanche leader Ten Bears. By the film's end, Josey Wales has gone from being an Outlaw to serving as a vital institution of this new society being born. Americans in 2023 must understand this journey because we are still on it.
JB: What a profound way to articulate Josey's transformation! Your exploration of his character's journey seems to reflect the arc that many of our most enduring cultural icons undergo. From the “lone wanderer” persona in the vein of the Man With No Name, Eastwood's own character from the Dollars Trilogy, to the gradual acceptance of a community role, reminiscent of Rick Grimes in The Walking Dead, it's an archetype that holds timeless appeal.
The transition from Outlaw to community leader you've pointed out is indeed a fascinating aspect of the story. The parallel you draw to modern society is intriguing too. It feels like this shift echoes a larger conversation about personal responsibility and community building.
Considering your audience in 2023, how do you see these themes and the transformation of Josey Wales resonating with the contemporary issues we're dealing with? Are there specific parts of the book that you think will speak to today's societal challenges?
JBM: In America, a quarter of the country wants to see another half of them either be silenced and stripped of liberty or worse. And many of the ideas and emotions fueling this breakdown of the communal trust that maintains a civilization are rooted in the same racial politics that started and fueled the U.S. Civil War.
It's critical that every person reflects deeply on the privileges and responsibilities that come with living in a society of common law. The only choice is between Common Law, written, enforced, and interpreted, which aims to equalize opportunity and justice in a world of scarce resources with alternative uses. Or, we can live under a despot system that runs on corruption, crime, suffering, and death for profit. Right now, we have the veneer of Democracy with a heart of Despotism, and it can’t stand in the middle much longer. The Outlaw Josey Wales touches on all these themes, and explores what happens when the middle breaks under the strain.
JB: It's remarkable how a film from the 1970s can provide such a mirror to the issues that are still so relevant and urgent today. It's as if we are still grappling with the same questions about liberty, equality, and justice. It reminds me of the quote from Battlestar Galactica, "All of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again."
Your focus on communal trust and common law brings to mind the foundations of democratic societies and the challenges they face today. It's a balance that's often tested, sometimes to its breaking point. Your essays on these themes seem not only timely but necessary.
Given the context, did you feel a sense of urgency or responsibility in writing this book? Do you have any hopes for how it might impact or influence its readers?
JBM: I did feel an urgency to create this book, so much so that I compressed the composition into a single month of work. I hope it will set a new bar for how New Critics will look back at art of the past and how they interpret art of the present. I came up with the term New Critic to describe my method and style of writing about other artists' work.
JB: It's truly commendable how you've taken on such a comprehensive project with such dedication and urgency. Your hope of setting a new bar for critique and interpretation is audacious in the best sense, a bit like challenging the status quo, reminiscent of the famous Bob Dylan line, "The times, they are a-changin'."
This concept of a New Critic is very interesting. Could you elaborate on what this term signifies? What makes a 'New Critic', and how does it differ from traditional criticism?
JBM: Traditional Criticism tends to align itself with a polarized and binary view of analyzing and appreciating art. It's either 'good or 'bad. Or, we may get a number between 1 and 5 that somehow represents the value of the art. Too often, in my opinion, analyses of racial or gender representation shortcircuit any universal-level discussion of art. How does it impact the human being? Not just the person of this color, this gender, this geographical organization, this sexual preference, etc. Those are all valid aspects of criticism. But the New Critic (me) is not bounded by them as an area of focus in my analysis and appreciation.
The second component of New Criticism is that it is mainly positive because I don't write about things that hold no value to me. I would never write a negative review because I would not now shit on someone else's art in a public forum like the internet. So, the New Critic only writes about things they care about, and they look deeply at those things. The New Critic is a nerd. For example, in the past six years, I've written nearly a million words about the third season of Twin Peaks, and it wasn't because I didn't enjoy watching it. It's because I loved watching it. That's the New Critic.
JB: This New Critic perspective is refreshing. It's somewhat of a "love letter" approach to criticism, focusing on what resonates with the critic and why, rather than providing a score or rank. It reminds me of the wisdom Mr. Rogers once shared: "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping." Similarly, you seem to be looking for the value in the art, the aspects that compel and inspire.
It's also commendable that your critique goes beyond the specifics of demographics to explore the universal human impact of art, much like Carl Sagan's approach to science and our place in the cosmos.
With that in mind, if you could pick one essay from your book, or perhaps a specific idea or theme you explored in relation to The Outlaw Josey Wales, that you feel exemplifies this 'New Critic' approach, what would it be and why?
JBM: I like The Snake Oil in Josey Wales essay. The guy selling snake oil betrays Josey Wales, and Josey doesn't kill him (mostly because he's got to kill the cowboys, bounty hunters, and soldiers all aiming to kill him and cash out). The irony of the situation is that, with the common viewer, Josey Wales carries more moral authority as a killer than this carpetbagger snake oil salesman. However, in the eyes of the law, the latter is the more honorable man. But to the viewer, who, by this point in the film, is deeply involved in Josey Wales's redemption, the salesman is a traitor. I think I nailed the New Critic approach in this essay.
JB: The title alone, The Snake Oil in Josey Wales, is evocative. I can already sense the intriguing juxtaposition and exploration of the moral complexities inherent in the characters and the storyline. This inversion of roles, where the outlaw becomes the moral compass and the 'lawful' man becomes a traitor, reminds me of what Shakespeare wrote in 'Hamlet': "Give me that man that is not passion's slave and I will wear him in my heart's core." It's as if you are saying that actions define us more than societal labels.
Speaking of labels, as a writer, you're effectively wearing several hats — author, editor, publisher, designer — and you retain full creative rights. In the context of the publishing industry's ongoing evolution, what advice would you give to writers seeking to follow a similar path, especially those interested in becoming a New Critic?
JBM: Become a company. Be incorporated. In America, businesses are valued more than people, meaning their voices are heard. The independent artist is a business whose life must be run like one. I spent twenty years putting my writing on a shelf so that I could raise a family and provide for them. The unexpected consequence is that I learned that my art could be channeled for corporate use, but more importantly, I learned how to think like a business thinks. Every decision I make is business now, including knowing when to defer my talents for someone else's.
For example, I can't draw or illustrate but I can design on a computer and am good at it. I could take what I learned to do in my corporate work and apply it to my creative endeavors. I have become so much more than just a writer. I'm an artist, and I set the standards by which that word is defined for me. That's also part of being a New Critic. We define our work by our own standards of excellence, which are not always commercial.
JB: This is such pragmatic and insightful advice. It brings to mind the term artrepreneur, a combination of artist and entrepreneur, and you certainly embody this concept. Your journey from focusing solely on writing to expanding your horizons and skills reflects what Leonard Cohen sang: "There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in."
What you've shared will undoubtedly inspire writers to consider their craft not just from a creative perspective, but from a business standpoint as well. Embracing this mindset seems essential in this day and age, particularly given the ongoing disruptions in the publishing industry.
As we wrap up our conversation, do you have any final words for our audience? Perhaps a call-to-action or a thought-provoking idea to leave us with?
JBM: "Follow Your Bliss." That's a famous Joseph Campbell quote. Here's what it means: Find the thing in life that punches you in the gut, and then do it for free until someone pays you for it. I have a story about meeting my wife that will blow your mind. I won't tell it now, but shortly after I first heard Joseph Campbell say this phrase on one of his VHS tapes published in the 1990s, I changed my whole life. I bet everything on going to writing school, and through a series of fateful coincidences, I manifested a life for myself that I could never have planned with any guidance counselor in high school. Following My Bliss has made all the difference in my life and happiness. So find your Bliss and follow it. Also, don't step in the way of someone else following theirs. As long as they aren't hurting anyone, live, let live, and enjoy your life. It's short, but it can also be sweet.
JB: Follow Your Bliss" is indeed a powerful mantra, offering an invitation to tune into our deepest passions and to build our lives around them. Your words echo the sentiment expressed by Steve Jobs in his famous Stanford commencement address, where he said, "You've got to find what you love... Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do."
Your life story and the journey of writing this book, is a testament to the power of pursuing what we love, and not just for personal fulfilment but also for the value it can bring to others. Thank you for sharing your insights, experiences, and your 'New Critic' approach with us.
As we conclude this interview, I urge everyone to look into your book on The Outlaw Josey Wales. Not only for its critical insights into a classic film, but also as an exploration of the themes of redemption, justice, and societal evolution that resonate so deeply with our current times. And in the spirit of your final words, may we all endeavor to follow our bliss.
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