A to Z: Curt Wild

(If you're looking for today's IWSG post, it went up right before this one.)

    Today's post is the first time I'm posting about someone else's character.  Which is to say that today I will be talking about my fan fiction writing. 😅  That will happen a lot this month, I'm sorry to say.  (It will mostly be swapping over between my Greek mythology addiction and my recent addiction to a particular fandom...but that fandom's characters don't get the spotlight in these posts for a little while yet.  And there's one totally original character between now and then!)

    Anyway.  Back on topic, who I want to talk about today is the character of Curt Wild from the 1998 movie Velvet Goldmine, written and directed by Todd Haynes.  The movie is a fictional reimagining of the early '70s glam rock scene, told in flashback from a mildly dystopian 1984.  Curt Wild is the movie's equivalent of Iggy Pop, only much hotter because he's played by Ewan McGregor. 😍

    Curt is a complicated character to work with because he doesn't talk much, plus he spends most (or all) of the 1970s portions of the film struggling with a crippling heroin addiction.  We also don't get to hear his take on events, unfortunately.  The movie follows the Citizen Kane format of accompanying a journalist as he interviews people for a story on a controversial figure:  in this case, glam rock star Brian Slade, Curt's former lover.  The journalist, Arthur Stuart (Christian Bale!), interviews Brian's former manager, Cecil, and his ex-wife Mandy, but doesn't get to interview Curt, so we only see the Curt/Brian relationship from the outside, from Mandy's perspective and from Arthur's own memories of being a glam rock fan at the time.  We do get to hear a little from Curt about everything that happened, but not the full story as he saw it.  So despite how much time he has on screen, he's also something of a mystery to the audience.  (Though in truth the same could be said for Brian, and he has more screen time than anyone else.)

    Consequently, writing for Curt is always a challenge for me, especially since I don't really know much about popular music, and I have never used drugs or even known anyone who used them.  And, actually, seeing as he also seems very sexually motivated, my asexuality probably makes it hard for me to connect with him as well.

    So why would I write about him at all?

    Well, two big reasons.  While I am asexual and aromantic, I do have some minor romantic/sexual interest, though it's all interest that I have less than no desire to act on physically.  In other words, I kind of like thinking about love, but only so long as I'm not involved.  Um.  Okay, no matter how I describe it, it keeps sounding creepy.  There's actually a term for it, as a subsection of asexuality, so let me just borrow the definition as set out by people better at defining things than I am.

Aego (also known as Autochoris) is an orientation prefix where one's attraction is centered around individuals other than oneself.^[1][2] The prefix aego is deriven from the Latin words a- meaning without, and ego meaning myself, resulting in the combined meaning of "sexual/romantic without myself".^[3][4][5]

The exact definition of this label is imprecise and has evolved over time. Definitions include:

• experiencing a disconnect between oneself and one's object of attraction;^[2]
• only experiencing attraction in vague third-person fantasies;^[6]
• enjoying relationship-related activities in media/fantasies without desiring to be a participant;^[7]
• only experiencing attraction to situations that does not involve oneself.^[8]

Aego individuals often use this term because they feel alienated both from the idea that the absence of attraction implies the absence of fantasies regarding relationships, and the idea that the presence of fantasies implies the possibility of attraction. Aego individuals' fantasies generally do not involve themselves, only other individuals.^[6][9]

(Definition quoted from the LGBTQIA+ Wiki page on the Aego orientation.)

    In my own case, rather than getting idle crushes on actors or singers, crushes never intended or expected to be acted on, I get crushes sometimes on fictional characters, specifically in the context of their romance with some other character.  (This has been the case ever since I was a small child:  my first crush was Han Solo, but it was always in the context of his romance with Princess Leia (even before The Empire Strikes Back came out!).  Of course, since then I have lost my tolerance for hetero romance...)  So, long story short (too late!), watching Velvet Goldmine gave me a crush on Curt Wild, with his partner in the crush of course being Arthur Stuart.  (I promise it makes sense in the context of the film.)  And when I get crushes on fictional characters, I like to write about them.

    But that's only part of it.  The other part is because I first saw the movie on Netflix in late 2015.  If I hadn't had Velvet Goldmine fanfic to write, with the heroic journalist exposing the corruption festering in the White House, all while he's having a very gay love story with a gorgeous rock star, I'm not sure how I would have survived 2016-2020.  It wasn't just fan fiction, it was also reassurance and even mild therapy.

    Okay, so enough background, let's talk about how I've handled the character!  There are a lot of things inconsistent from one of my Velvet Goldmine fics to the next, and how I characterize Curt has definitely been one of the inconsistencies.  But I can't really talk about any of that without talking about certain spoilers for the movie, so I'm going to put in one of those lines that cuts off the post from the main page before going on. 😅

    So, one of the big reasons that I have trouble being consistent with Curt is that he and Arthur had a one-night stand back in the '70s, which we only learn about late in the picture, after Arthur has tried to contact Curt for an interview and been denied one (because, as we learn but he doesn't, there are two men in suits keeping watch over Curt and making sure he refuses), and although Curt and Arthur do get to have a brief conversation right at the end of the picture, it's not completely clear if Curt even remembers Arthur.  Every time I watch the movie, I find my opinion changing regarding whether or not he remembers, and/or what it means to him if he does remember.  A lot of my early fics tend to have him remember and have assigned far too much importance to the event.  There are a lot of reasons for that, but a large part of it is that prior to working on Velvet Goldmine fanfic, I hadn't really written much about characters who sleep around a lot.  I think part of it comes down to my personal aversion to the idea of taking part in sex:  it sounds like it would be horrible to actually experience, so my natural assumption is that you wouldn't put up with something so awful unless the other person meant a lot to you.  Which isn't even true for most other women, and certainly isn't true for most men.  It took me a while of working with these characters to shake off that mindset even a little.  (I still probably haven't fully been able to escape from it, but I've definitely improved.)

    One problem with trying to find good passages to quote here is that Curt swears a lot.  And I don't like to swear on the main part of my blog.  (In real life is another matter, though...)  In looking over the first of the works I was thinking of quoting, I found a spot where his manager was telling him to stop swearing like a sailor, and his refusal to do so was a sentence containing no less than three f-bombs.  😅  (All used adjectivally, of course.)

    This seems like a pretty good short bit that sums up my take on the character, though:

            Record labels, in Curt’s experience, wanted the stars plucked from the skies and handed to them.  When they couldn’t have that, they weren’t satisfied if their stars couldn’t at least give them the moon.  Personally, he just wanted to moon them and have done with it.  Fortunately—or not—he was never allowed to meet with a record label mouthpiece without his manager present.  That tended to keep his pants in place.

EDIT:  in looking for quotes for a different post, I just came across this line that I really liked and wanted to share.  The context is that Arthur has gained some notoriety because of, well, a confluence of several things, really, so when a pair of journalists for another paper find that he's with Curt when they arrive at Curt's hospital room looking for an impromptu interview, they decide to split up and interview both of them individually.  The journalist in whose POV we are is a bit homophobic and kind of a jerk all around, and has this thought about why he wants to be the one to interview Arthur instead of Curt:

            The only reason Danny didn’t change his mind then and there was that he really didn’t want to have to spend all that time talking to Curt Wild, either, who reminded Danny of a rabid hyena.  Arthur was more like a sickly lapdog; unpleasant, but also docile and easily frightened off.

    I do have a tendency to have Curt's side of the fanfics focus on his career.  A lot of concerts and getting ready to release albums, that kind of thing.  (Arthur's half typically focuses on writing a story to expose some horrible injustice and by exposing it, ending it.)  Which is more than enough excuse for me to stop trying to sort through all the regular fics looking for good quotes I can post here that will make sense out of context, and instead look at the few where I did something radically different.

    Sadly, the one where Curt and Brian are the monsters living under Arthur's bed as a child didn't provide any good quotes to use, because it's mostly focused on Arthur and his miserable life.  (It's one of my favorites among my Velvet Goldmine fics, though.)  However, the two that I wrote in response to a Yuletide fic request!  Those two are more quotable.

    The request was to take the Curt/Arthur pairing and write a fusion fic, combining Velvet Goldmine with some other film that one of the two actors was in.  The request's examples were, of course the Star Wars prequel trilogy and the Nolan Batman trilogy.  But I wanted to do something a bit more literary.

    So, here's a brief quote showing how I handled Curt Wild as a minstrel who used to perform at taverns for Falstaff and is now just one of the many miserable Englishmen slogging along after King Hal.  (Combining, of course, with Kenneth Branagh's Henry V, in which 15-year-old Christian Bale played Falstaff's squire.)

            Curt smiled, giving Arthur far more warmth than the fire in front of them did.  “You aren’t armed.”  He looked over Arthur’s whole body, with such an intense scrutiny that it made him blush.  “You aren’t even shod.”
            “I had shoes!  I did, honest!  My master bought them for me.  Only…my feet got too large for them.  They were already old and ragged when we left England, and they fell to bits on the roads of Normandy.”
            “Why aren’t you armed for battle?  Aren’t you a man?”
             Arthur’s cheeks heated with shame.  “Not according to the king’s men.  They said that if I can’t grow hair on my chin, then I can’t fight and die for my king.  I’m trying to learn how to fight, though.  The men all say we’ll be here for years at this rate.  Plenty of time for my first beard to come and prove me a man.”
            “Most likely.  Years slogging through French mud…”  Curt sighed.  “I wonder if I will even be missed?”
            “Surely everyone who ever heard you sing already misses you terribly.”
             Curt laughed, and ruffled Arthur’s hair as best he could around the mud caked into it.  “No one pays attention to a mere entertainer.  None but another entertainer.”
            “I paid attention.”  Curt was the sort of man who captivated any who saw him!  Captivated, and filled with unsettling, forbidden desires…
            “Thanks.”  Curt sighed, turning to look into the fire.  “The one person I wanted to pay attention to me—the one person I wanted to miss me—I doubt he will notice or care if I never return to England.”
            Arthur bit his lip, trying to stop the question that burst out regardless of his better instincts.  “Is he why you signed on to join this fight?”
            “He is,” Curt agreed.  “Why did you sign up?”
             Arthur shrugged.  “With my master gone, what else did I have to look forward to in life?  I have no family, and Mistress Nell could hardly have taken care of me at the pub, especially with her husband gone off to the war.”
            “Cheer up,” Curt said, placing a warm arm around his shoulders.  “If this war goes on for another year or so, you’ll be able to ride into battle at the king’s side, and make your name as a mighty warrior.  I could sing songs about your heroic exploits when we all return home to England!”
            Arthur laughed.  “I’d like that.”  It was an absurd dream, but sitting there with Curt’s arm around him, he felt big and bold enough to make it come true.  No feat would be too difficult if it would make him a worthy subject for a song to pass through Curt’s lips.

    (The reason Curt's confused about whether Arthur is still a boy or already a man is because even though he was only 15, Christian Bale was already as tall as Branagh:  seriously, check out the St. Crispin's Day speech at some point, they're exactly the same height.  Of course, technically, in Henry V's day, fifteen was probably not too young to fight, but...it's not like the play specified how old the squire was supposed to be.  (Branagh had obviously finished adapting the script before casting that role:  he had cut almost all of the boy's lines, so he clearly wasn't expecting to get a young actor who was actually capable of handling the material.))

    Overall, despite the different level of vocabulary, the crossover-with-Shakespeare version of Curt still feels pretty much like Curt Wild.  It's harder to say that about the other fusion, which was fusing Velvet Goldmine with the 1996 adaptation of Jane Austen's Emma.  (And also fusing it with the book, because that movie adaptation was really kind of a butchery, which is tragic, since it had an almost perfect cast.)  It's a much more complicated fusion, since I wasn't just combining Curt Wild with Frank Churchill and adding in Arthur Stuart (as an apprentice to the apothecary Mr. Perry), but also fusing Mandy Slade with Harriet Smith (both were played by Toni Colette) and adding in Brian Slade as a Lord Byron type.  I read the novel twice in preparation for writing the fic (obviously, I wouldn't have done so if I didn't enjoy Jane Austen's works, so that was a pleasant task) and I worked to replicate the language as best I could, and even the period spellings.

    Of course, due to the story of Emma, that meant that Curt vanished for a long burst of time in the middle, and by the time he returns, things have really progressed a lot, so it's hard to get a good quote that shows him being more Curt Wild than Frank Churchill.  (Unfortunately, Brian/Mandy kind of took over the fic.  In part because their situation was a little easier to work with, and also maybe I was kind of channeling someone inappropriate, as their story soon left Jane Austen territory and ended up in the territory of one of the Brontë sisters.)  This is the best I can do for a quote on that one...

        Once the carriage had disappeared around the side of the manor, Lord Slade turned to look at Mr. Curt Wild, and his fine features contorted into an unpleasant frown.  “You were astonishingly rude at the party,” he said, his voice cold enough that it made Arthur halt in his tracks as he had been walking (without even meaning to) closer to them ever since the carriage had halted in front of the door.
        “I did nothing wrong,” Mr. Curt Wild insisted with an edge of anger.
        “What can you possibly have against Miss Smith that you would work so hard to keep me from speaking to her?”
        “Why would you want to speak to her?  She’s an empty-headed female—and an illegitimate one at that.”
         “That is reason not to form an alliance with her, not reason to treat her so cruelly.  She is a pretty young thing, and I enjoy the company of attractive people.  Do not wrong both her and me by attempting to prevent me from doing so.”
        “Is that why you gave her that portrait?  Because you were cross with me?”  Mr. Curt Wild sounded positively upset.
        “Why should I not, when it pleased her so greatly?”
        “Because you said you had it painted for me!”
         Lord Slade laughed, and set a hand on the other man’s shoulder, so close to his neck that it was brushing aside hair.  “My dear Curt, are you jealous?”

    And then that scene is immediately followed by the two of them noticing Arthur's presence and coercing him into being the Regency equivalent of a drug dealer, since he's able to get them laudanum because he's the apprentice to an apothecary. 😅  I think it's one of the best fics I've ever written, but it contains so much that would never ever appear in the works of Jane Austen...

    Anyway, I want to conclude this with one last quote, this time from a fic in another fandom.  My first Mo Dao Zu Shi fanfic was an AU (alternate universe) fic set in 1980s New York (but the characters still using Chinese name order because it would sound too weird the other way)...meaning after Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan are dating, they go out to a gay bar for a date, and it just happens to be having a '70s Night event going on, and soon this happens... {I've deleted Curt's f-bombs...}

            They had only been there maybe ten minutes when the DJ’s voice suddenly cut in between songs.  “Let’s take ‘70s Night even further back in time with this love song by the patron saint of glam himself, Brian Slade, written for his one true love, Curt Wild!” he announced, as if that was supposed to mean something.  Wei Wuxian had never heard of those names, and no one else on the dance floor seemed to know or care.  (Though he thought he heard a man shout “[expletive] you!” but he wasn’t sure if that was addressed to the DJ or just coincidentally timed.)  The song that started playing didn’t sound very romantic to him, either, but it wasn’t bad to dance to.
            After another fifteen or twenty minutes, Wei Wuxian suggested that they stop dancing and get something to drink.  Lan Zhan agreed, so they left the dance floor and headed for the bar.  The whole club was pretty packed, but they were able to take up the two last spots at the bar itself.  Wei Wuxian wasn’t quite sure what people usually ordered—mixed drinks? shots of something hard?—but ended up settling for a beer after noticing that several of the other men sitting at the bar just had a bottle of beer in front of them.  Lan Zhan, of course, ordered a soda, earning him a strange look from the bartender, and a laugh from the middle-aged blond man sitting on Lan Zhan’s other side.
            “Don’t waste your money ordering a pop in a place like this!” he chortled.  “You know how overpriced that is?”
             “Oh, stop.  Let the lad order whatever he wants,” his dark-haired companion said, swatting his shoulder.  He had an English accent, but it wasn’t the one Wei Wuxian was used to.  It was much less classy.

    ...followed soon after by...

            He was torn out of his contemplations by someone pushing past close beside him with a bundle of teeth and snarls packed under his arm.  Instinctively, Wei Wuxian leapt away, putting Lan Zhan in between him and the man with the mini-shark.  Of course, that made a lot of people laugh at him, and he felt a rough hand grab his ponytail.
             “Don’t jump around with this thing—you almost knocked my beer over!”  It was the blond man sitting beside Lan Zhan, and he released Wei Wuxian’s hair as soon as he was done speaking.
            “Sorry.  It’s just that man—is that even allowed, bringing one of those in here?”
             “It is when you own the joint,” the blond man said, shaking his head.  “Get to break all sorts of rules, even bring in your overgrown rat.”
            “What are you in such a mood for?” the Englishman asked.  “It’s a perfectly nice Chihuahua.”
             “No such thing as a ‘perfectly nice’ dog,” Wei Wuxian muttered.  Seeing it was safe again, he resumed his seat, but he was no longer feeling quite so comfortable here, knowing it was owned by someone who liked dogs…
            “Hey, I gotta ask:  is that hair real?” the blond man asked.
            “Of course it is!”
            “Shit, and people hassle me about how long my hair is?”  It was only down to his shoulders.  That was nothing.
             “Love, you wouldn’t be happy if no one was givin’ you an ‘ard time,” his companion said, slipping an arm around him and making him laugh.
             Lan Zhan glanced at the noisy couple (who were still laughing and mock-bickering), then leaned in close to Wei Wuxian’s ear.  “We should go.”
            “Yeah, but where?”  If they stayed here much longer, that’d just make it harder for them to have a good opportunity for sex, but so would going to the wrong place.
            Lan Zhan frowned, and didn’t seem to have an answer.
            “Settle an argument for us,” the blond man suddenly said, raising his voice to get their attention again.  “Why did you two grow your hair so long?  It looks like you’ve never cut it in your lives!”
             “You don’t ‘ave to answer that, boys.”  The Englishman forcibly turned the blond’s head to look at him.  “Stop pesterin’ everyone around you.  Or are you sayin’ you need more attention than just mine?”
             “What, you don’t want boys this pretty paying attention to you?” the blond said, gesturing towards them, and making the Englishman’s whole face mottle red.
            “I—I’m sure they ‘ave no—I’m sure they ‘ave better things to do than waste their precious time on the two of us.”  His eyes glanced in their direction, and a small smile crossed his face.  (Possibly inspired by Lan Zhan’s posture, which indicated that he wanted to bolt.)  “They look like they’re in a hurry to leave,” he added.
            The blond looked over at them and grinned.  “Getting ready to run off to the john, huh?”
            “Huh?  Do we look like we need to pee?”
            Both men stared at them with confused expressions for a moment.  “You…you’re joking, right?” the Englishman asked.
             When neither of them reacted, the blond hopped down off his stool, then pulled the Englishman off his, pulling his pelvis close, then mimed humping him over the bar.  “You know, some’a this!”
            The Englishman laughed, then gently pushed the blond off him.  “You are completely mental tonight!”
            “Do people really…I mean…in the bathrooms?” Wei Wuxian asked, his mind already racing over the possibilities.
            Again, both men stared at them.  “[expletive], haven’t you ever been to a gay bar before?” the blond asked.
            They both shook their heads.  “First time,” Lan Zhan said.
             “It’s a very common practice,” the Englishman told them, smiling gently.  “Meet a fellow you like—or arrive with one,” he added, twining his fingers between his boyfriend’s, “—and head off to the loo with him, then go into a cubicle—”
            “Or not,” the blond interrupted.
            “—close the door—”
            “Or not,” the blond interrupted again, laughing.
             “—and ‘ave as much of a shag as the cramped space will allow.”  He chuckled warmly.  “I had a mate in London who swore by it as a rite of passage for a gay man, tryin’ to find a way to ‘ave sex in the men’s toilet.”
            Wei Wuxian’s first thought was just that this was the perfect solution to having sex without risking that Lan Zhan would fall asleep on his way home.  Then he found himself thinking about how exciting it sounded, getting to have sex in a public—well, somewhat public—place with no possibility of getting in trouble for it.  Most men’s room stalls were bigger than his shower, and he was definitely sure that they could have sex in his shower if need be—that was on his list of possible places to do it in the coming days/weeks—so it shouldn’t be any problem, physically…
            He got to his feet and gripped Lan Zhan’s hand tightly.  “Let’s go,” he urged.
            Lan Zhan nodded, and they were soon hurrying off towards the bathroom.
            Those two men laughed as they went, and he could hear the blond saying “Damn, I miss being young!”

    ...yeah, sorry for the long quote.  But seeing as I don't think anyone reading the fic had ever seen (or even heard of) Velvet Goldmine and therefore had no idea that those two were Curt Wild and Arthur Stuart, I wanted to post their whole scene where someone might read it who did know who they were, even if only a little bit.  😅  I think I had to throw this scene into that fic both to apologize to Curt and Arthur for my obsession moving to a different fandom, and also to promise them that hopefully I'd be back again.  Also it was easier to write since it was in the familiar ground of the 1980s.  (Admittedly, I've never been to New York City in my life, but after all the Velvet Goldmine fanfic, at least I was used to writing about it.)

    Aaaaaaaand by now this post is ludicrously long, so I'll just stop here.  (Tomorrow's is likely to also be ridiculously long, but it'll be back to Greek mythology, though focused on an actual character out of the myths and several different approaches I took to writing about her.)

    Anyway, my Velvet Goldmine fics on AO3 can be found here.  Among those fics, I have a few favorites (chronological order, oldest first):

• The Power Behind the Nothing:  named with a quote from the movie adaptation of The Neverending Story, this fic is mostly focused on the agents of the power controlling the dystopian present.
• Celebrity:  in this one, Arthur is also a gay romance novelist as well as a journalist, and his most popular novel, Celebrity, was not-so-subtly based on the romance between Curt and Brian.  His editor wants a sequel to it, but he's reluctant because of the secrets he learned about Brian when he was investigating for his story on Brian (ie during the movie itself).
• The Wilde Letters:  in a dystopian version of 2017, a middle-aged museum employee is set off on a journey after discovering a letter inside a turn of the century copy of the works of Oscar Wilde.  In the course of her voyage, she ends up learning about glam rock, and especially about Curt Wild.  (Who is, btw, pretty much the only canon character in the fic, and even then only as a cameo at the end.)  I had a lot of fun writing fake Wikipedia articles for this one. 😜
• The Monsters Under the Bed:  young Arthur has always known there were monsters under his bed.  What he didn't know was that they didn't want to hurt him.  (I mentioned this briefly above.  Curt and Brian actually make really good monsters under the bed, it turns out. 😉)
• Give Him a Mask:  Curt Wild suddenly finds himself with an acting career.  A very successful one.
• You Seem Like a Nice Guy:  this is actually mostly a character study on Arthur, trying to capture the level of social awkwardness he displays in the movie.  But it's got some good Curt material at the end.
• Don't Want No Dead-End Job:  inspired by the Police song of the same name, this is three vignettes looking at Curt, Brian and Arthur before they entered into the careers they have in the film.
• A Kingdom for a Stage:  this is the fusion with Henry V.  Short, but I'm extremely fond of it.  (Given how excessively young 15 is, the Curt/Arthur romance is the mildest of hints in this one, implied for the future only.  'Cause yikes, that's young.  He didn't seem so young when I was watching the movie on the big screen back in '89.  (Probably because I was 14 at the time, lol!))
• A Warmer Love:  and this is the Emma fusion.  (The title is a quote from the novel, and kind of lacking as a title, tbh, but I didn't come across a better one for it.  Unlike with the Henry V one, where a perfect quote was so loudly declaimed for me by Derek Jacobi.)
• Weekend Custody:  just a short little piece where Curt's ex-wife dumps the kids on him without warning...only Arthur also happens to be in Curt's bed when they arrive.