Why I Probably Will Walk Away From THE WALK

counter clockwise from top left: Jean-Louis Blondeau, Annie Allix, Jean-François Heckel,
Jean-Pierre Dousseau, Jim Moore, Barry Greenhouse, and Phillipe Petit

I am someone who is always annoyed when people comment on movies they haven't seen, books they haven't read, music they haven't listened to, yet I'm about to become one of them.  On October 9th, 2015, TriStar Productions released the movie The Walk, staring Joseph Gordon-Levitt.  It is based on the incredible event of August 7th, 1974, when the French wire-walker Phillipe Petit danced back and forth, for nearly 45-minutes, between the Twin Towers in New York City.  I was just about 12 years old when this happened, and I can remember the sheer wonder and awe of it.  Something so impossible to even contemplate, and yet Petit didn't simply contemplate it, he accomplished it.  He made the impossible, possible, and it is not too much of an overstatement to say that my world changed on that day.  And with the relase of the 2008 documentary Man on Wire, I began to celebrate annually "International Phillipe Petit Danced Between the Towers Day."  (You can look back through my blog history and find a number of posts about all of this.)

You'd think that I'd be one of the first ones in line to see the new film, and I am tempted.  I might even see it at some point, but not right away.  And maybe not at all.  The reason for my hesitation is that from all accounts it tells only one part of the story of that day, and the story it tells is a misdirection from the true story -- a much more powerful story than that of a lone man overcoming impossible odds. 

In Man on Wire and, again from what I've heard, The Walk, it is noted that Petit had accomplices.  And this is how they are usually depicted -- accomplices who help Petit realize his vision, his dream.  Several years ago I wanted to use a particular picture I'd come across of Petit street juggling and discovered that this beautiful photograph had been taken by none other than Jean-Louis Blondeau.  I wrote to him in France and asked his permission to use the photograph.  We have corresponded back and forth several times now, and from him I have come to see the "fairy tale" (as he calls it) of the genius wire walker as the mere surface of the story, and a misleading one at that.

The truth as I understand it is that le coup -- as the walk was known among those who participated -- was very much a collaborative venture of a community of people.  In fact, the walk on that August morning was as much an achievement of Jean-Louis, Annie Allix, Jean-François Heckel, Jean-Pierre Dousseau, Jim Moore, and Barry Greenhouse as it was a feat of Petit's.  Without them it simply would have been impossible and, not to at all detract from the sheer courage, commitment, and skill shown by Petit as he stepped out onto that wire, it was in many ways that team of "accomplises" who really overcame those "impossible odds."  It may be an overstatement to say that the walk itself was the easiest part of the whole thing, but it is my distinct impression that it was not the most difficult, either.

In last year's post I noted that I will no longer celebrate "International Phillipe Petit Danced Between the Towers Day" in favor, now, of more accurately marking the anniversary of "The Dance Between The Towers."  This is not the story of one man overcoming great odds; it is the story of a group of friends working together to do the impossible and to inspire the world.  That is the movie I want to see.

Pax tecum,

RevWik

The 40th Anniversary of the Dance Between the Towers

Each year, on the anniversary of the day that the French wire-walker and street performer Phillipe Petit danced for forty-five minutes between the towers of the World Trade Center, I watch the wonderful documentary about le coup, Man on Wire.  And each year I am once again inspired.

I am inspired by the raw courage and sheer lunacy of this feat.  At one point in the film Petit says of his attitude on first actually seeing the towers, "It's impossible, that's sure.  So let's start working."  Petit's confidence in his own abilities is mindboggling -- that anyone could imagine that they could do such a thing!

But this was not a solitary venture.  Although Petit was the one on that wire a quarter of a mile above the streets of New York City, in truth he was only there because of his friends.  In the dedication of his own reminiscence of the event -- the book now also called Man on Wire but originally called To Reach The Clouds --  Petit names twenty-one individuals, and leaves at least a few unnamed.  He says that it is to these that "this story belongs."  It was not just Petit's faith in himself that's inspiring.  He also had a seemingly innate, unquestioned faith in those who were working on this project with him, and they in him.

That's something that comes through if you watch the film closely enough, or read the book for the story within the story -- each of these people believed in this crazy idea as much as Petit did.  Each of them thought it was worth doing.  Each of them thought it was possible.  Each of them thought that she or he was just the person to make it happen.  They were not merely his assistants; they were his collaborators, his co-conspirators.  It was not Petit's coup; the walk belonged to all of them.

Storytellers love a hero.  Audiences want to see one woman or one man with the courage and the skills to overcome seemingly impossible obstacles and do what no one else can.  (This is true, at least, of American storytellers and audiences brought up in the dominant culture of the United States.)  We want there to be a pinnacle -- to inspire us, to give us something to aspire to.  And so the images of Petit on that 3/4" wire, alone, touches something in our souls.  It's nearly impossible for us to imagine anyone else out there with him.

But there were.  Yes, only he had put his life on the line, but they had put the life of a dear friend on the line knowing that if something were to happen he would die a poet's death whereas they would have to live with if for the rest of their lives.  It was the skill of his feet and that insane concentration that kept him aloft on that early Tuesday morning, but it was the skill of his friends and their insane dedication that got him there in the first place.  There is another story -- a less mythic, perhaps, yet deeper and more true story -- about le coup.

It is also, I think, an ultimately more inspiring one.  When I was younger it is quite possible that I aspired to be that solitary hero.  (I don't know for sure, I'm old enough now not to really remember!)  Now, though, I aspire to be part of a community that's doing daring things; to be one of a group that believes that, together, nothing can stop them.

I used to call this day "International Phillipe Petit Danced Between the Towers Day."  I will call it now, the Anniversary of the Dance Between the Towers because those who were on those roofs with him, and those who'd been with him in the planning and were now down on the street, and even those of us who merely watched and wondered ... we all were dancing too.

Pax tecum,

RevWik

UPDATE:  When I first wrote this post I was able to find photos of three of the team that were involved that day -- Jean-Louis Blondeau (who planed and organized the whole adventure), Annie Allix, and Jean-François Heckel.  I wrote to Jean-Louis, with whom I've previously been in touch, and he told me that there were three other people who really needed to be mentioned -- Jean-Pierre Dousseau (who is never even mentioned in the film yet who drove the van into the Towers' delivery area and who was an integral part of the feat), and both Jim Moore and Barry Greenhouse (who do feature in the film).  He also sent me photos of these three so that I might honor them and their role as well.

So this year -- the 40th anniversary -- I salute them.

Jean-Louis Blondeau

Annie Allix

Jean-François Heckel

Jean-Pierre Dousseau

Jim Moore

 

Barry Greenhouse

International Dance Between the Towers Day 2013

A few years back I decided to declare a national, an international holiday!  I called it:  International Philippe Petit Danced Between The Towers Day.  It celebrates one of our history's greatest acts of holy folly -- on August 7, 1974 the French street performer and wire walker Philippe Petit stepped out onto a wire that had been surreptitiously rigged over the preceding night between the two towers of the World Trade Center in New York City and proceeded to "dance" between them for approximately 45 minutes.

I was twelve years old at the time, and the idea of this was electrifying.  A few years ago a documentary film about "le coup" -- Man on Wire -- came out and recaptured my imagination. (It also captured the Best Documentary Oscar in 2008.)  My annual ritual of watching that film began, and the declaration of IPPDBTTD was born.

In June, Nik Wallenda of the famous Flying Wallenda's family got people talking about perilous promenades when he walked a tightrope across the Grand Canyon.  Petit's accomplishment was naturally resurrected in people's minds, not least because he had considered following up his New York City crossings by crossing this same spot of the Canyon.  (Wallenda even had to remove the rigging Petit had been experimenting with.)  Still, for me, the events of August 7th still hold a unique place.  Why?

Well, firstly, it was such a surprise.  Following on their conquest of the Cathedral of Notre Dame in France and the Sydney Harbor Bridge in Australia, Petit and his companions prepared the Towers walk in secret, in the middle of the night.  (And for months prior.)  They did not have permits or approval.  They did not hold a press conference in advance to make sure the media were all there.  They didn't know if anyone would see them.  In a very real sense it seems to me that they didn't do this for anyone else -- they did this for themselves.  The did this to have done this.  Or, more precisely, they did it to do it.  Present tense.

And this added another element of risk.  Preparations had to be done in secret, which means that the team was limited in its ability to have their ideas tested.  And if you've read the book or seen the movie it is astonishing clear in how many ways le coup nearly didn't happen!  So many things could have gone wrong, almost did go wrong, that it's even more amazing than on face value that the whole thing worked.

One of the other things about that 1974 walk is that it was such a collaborative effort.  This seemed readily apparent to me watching the movie.  Although there's no question that it is presented as Petit's achievement and Petit's dream, it also seems unambiguously clear to me that there is no possible way he could have carried it out on his own.  This was brought home even more powerfully for me last year when I reached out to one of his co-conspirators -- Jean-Louis Blondeau -- because I wanted to use one of his black and white photos of Petit in his street performing days  for my blog post for IPPDBTTD.  To my tremendous pleasure he said that I could, and the two of us corresponded for a little while.  (I plan to send him a link to this piece and wish him a "happy anniversary.")

While those who made the walk possible did in many ways find themselves in the shadows of the spotlight that fell on Petit, that in no way diminishes their have been co-creators of that morning's magic.

Today, on what I now think of as International Dance Between the Towers Day, I am so grateful for all of those who were dreamers of this dream, and all of those who made it come true for the rest of us.  Jean-Louis said to me that there's another, in some ways even larger and more true story of that famous walk than the one I'll be watching tonight.  I hope that that story gets told.

Pax tecum,

RevWik