Thoth (2002) - full transcript

Thoth is a street performer currently in New York. Thoth is an individual with a complicated life and background. Thoth plays on opera with a violin in a loincloth in Central Park. Thoth is.

[violin, chanting]

[buzzing sound]

[falsetto chanting]

[throat singing]

[stomping, bells, violin]

[applause]

Is he Indian? I have no idea.

I was thinking, first Roman,

and then, maybe Egyptian.

I don't know - like Israel or something?

Definitely of the Mayan influence.

It's so primitive yet what he's

doing is so Western European.

He's busting out such European

and then he's doing this opera

which I think this is Italian.

This is like, the Darwish

of the old Persian... hmmm... the...

Looks a little like

an Indian, wannabe Indian

shut up!

There's certain people on the earth

that are just like kind of

balancing everything out.

I don't know -

he's one of them.

He's... I've never spoken

to him or anything.

I just I don't need to.

Yeah. I just am here.

What are you? What nationality?

Um...

I... one would have to say

that I'm from the United States.

- American?

- Yeah.

Black American? Indian American?

- All.

My mother came from

the island of Barbados,

... so that connects up with

Puerto Rico, Jamaica...

all the slaves came in there, right?

And my father came

from Russia and Romania.

And... so... "pshhh" [laughs]

How much are those?

I ask 15 you may offer me

whatever you care to.

I do have a website -

it's on this yellow sheet.

Do you do this for a living?

In order to live, I do this.

And are your own compositions?

This is my sculpture -

this is my work

this is my being.

Are you, like,

helping people's spirits too?

I don't know, I...

People can only help themselves.

I'm helping myself, and in helping myself

I feel that I help the universe.

- Can you, like, levitate and stuff?

- Yes.

- Baaad!

- No - for real?

[laughter]

It's a "Thoth"

- Thoth?

- Thoth.

- Applethauth.

- Applethauth?

[Thoth laughs]

I was evicted from San Francisco.

The apartment that I left

went up three times.

It was $800. It went up to $2100.

And it was like, Oh my god -

I can't afford this!

So I came here.

I am fortunate that my mother

has offered me this room

to continue my work,

but I consider myself homeless.

Mom?

Hi.

[laughs]

Yeah, I'm...

half of me's here.

And although my mother would say

that this is my home...

it is not my home, it is a place

that I'm staying right now.

[music]

[Thoth's mother]

Well yes, I'm a timpanist,

and I played the timpani

from the time...

almost from the time I went to

Music and Art High School

until just two years ago,

when I retired.

And my mother worked as a domestic.

But she made sure...

she said that I wasn't

going to do any domestic work.

And she used to say to me...

"No way you're gonna clean

white people's floors.

"You're gonna do

something respectable."

I took to the drums

like duck takes to water.

I just loved it.

I played in the New York

City Opera with Stokowski

and the American Symphony Orchestra.

I was the first black person

to play with the

New York Philharmonic.

[Thoth] My father was a big civil rights

demonstrator and worker.

He marched with Martin Luther King

and he was a doctor

in a lot of the marches in the South.

[mother] George was the first white person

to head the Congress of Racial Equality

here in Queens.

I had no idea I would ever attract

a man like George -

He was a young good-looking doctor?

When George told his father that he had

met me and that we were gonna get married,

his father's answer was,

"You're gonna marry a schvartze?"

And he says yeah,

"Well, does she look like Lena Horne?"

But his family objected to our marriage.

So I never really saw them.

They sent to our wedding,

an announcement of his death.

They sat shiva.

[Thoth]

I loved my father immensely

and was very jealous of any of my friends

he would show a lot of attention to.

My father and mother created a world

where it was blissful for us.

It was joyful and it was loving.

We had extraordinary friends,

and these friends were part of the

Communist Social Party of that time.

I was, and my sisters were... all of us

were used to an expression

of love between all peoples.

There was no distinction.

One thing that they didn't prepare us for,

which is that the world is fucked up.

And it was really fucked up then.

As soon as we traveled anywhere,

we'd got in the car, all of us...

people would drive by us

and yell really horrible things

with anger in their eyes and hatred.

And that was very weird for me.

I didn't understand...

What is going on?

What are they so angry about?

We were a mixed racial family.

In this society,

this was completely unacceptable.

People would throw things at us

or yell terrible things to us.

To be at that young age, and to have

that kind of hatred hurled at me,

caused me to move into a shell.

I stopped smiling.

People used to say, you act as if you have

the world on your shoulders. And I did.

That's what I was pondering: Why should

this be? And that's where I went.

I became occupied with that problem

for the rest of my life -

how people can behave more compassionately

to each other and with more love?

[mother] George said that

I was more interested

in my career and my children than him.

You know I was still working

at the Opera by this time

and our opera schedule

was very difficult.

And then I was having these children

at the same time.

My day off was on Monday and

George's day off was on Sunday,

so that was a big reason

for our eventual breakup.

[music]

[Thoth] It kind of felt like

a wall was there now,

and it was not possible

to make contact with him.

I became very withdrawn

and more distrustful.

Once I went into hiding,

the world of my imagination

started to become immensely focused.

In my imagination,

I could create environments

that things were a lot different.

I invented a land called the Festad

which had its own legends and

history and language.

Later this became the basis for the opera

that I perform in the tunnel.

[music]

Through fantasy, through imagination,

the Festad was born.

And over many, many,

many, many, many years

I have developed

and understood this world.

The Festad are inhabited by

beings I call Mir.

The Mir are people

of many different colors.

I have Mir who are phosphorescent,

Mir who are bluegreen,

Mir who are orange and

red and brown.

I am singing in the language of the Mir.

The story of the opera is about

a hermaphrodite called Nular-in,

who was born in the last age

of the Festad.

When Nular-in is still a child,

Nular-in's father is killed in a battle.

Nular-in's mother is lost

and Nular-in is then adopted

by a second family

that raises Nular-in as a girl.

When it is found out that

Nular-in is both sexes,

Nular-in is beaten severely

and left to die.

[music]

Hi, you've reached the Thoth Info Line.

Today, Wednesday, May 16th,

I will be prayforming at

the Angel Tunnel in Central Park,

from about 3 p.m. to 5 p.m.

I got some very weird messages

on my emails.

One just recently, actually,

which was just stupid.

But it said, "Get a life! Do something -

get a job. Get a life!"

And, uh...

I do have a life

and I do have work.

I don't have a job -

but I do have work.

So go "Enter"...

And there you go.

And then you have the map.

This is the Festad.

One clicks on any one of these places...

for instance - Artea.

One then gets a close-up of Artea,

land of the Rosmir.

"The Rosmir are a slender

dark brown people with yellow hair.

"They live in the trees

or in grass houses.

"These beings all communicate

singing to each other."

Showing my emotions

- which is what the prayformance is

all about, is showing who I am clearly -

was not the way I was

when I was young.

I was hiding everything.

I was the shortest person in my class.

I didn't like my teeth.

I mean, it was everything.

I hated that I was not

clearly defined.

I have so many different

racial characteristics -

the high cheekbones, the type of nose,

the type of lips.

It's like I'm an enigma.

I am not easily this or that.

I used to wear all black

from head to toe.

I never showed my body at all.

I didn't have any relationships

and friends, basically.

If somebody were to come to me when I

was that age and say that in 20 years,

you will be walking through the streets

in a loincloth,

playing the violin, and singing

in two, three, four or five voices,

it would have horrified me

beyond belief.

I would have considered

ending my life instantly.

[laughs]

We moved to San Francisco when I was 17.

I had just graduated from Music and Art.

I said to the kids,

"We're gonna move to San Francisco!

I got to the

San Francisco Symphony!"

It was a very difficult move.

But it was a happy move.

There had never been a black

principal player in a major symphony.

When we moved to San Francisco,

Stephen was very, very withdrawn.

[Thoth] And I studied music at

San Francisco State for about 3 years.

And about that time, my mother lost

tenure with the San Francisco Symphony,

and she decided to sue the symphony

for racial discrimination.

And she didn't win.

She never really came back from that.

[mother] All three of the children

kind of moved away from music.

If their mother - who was considered such

an outstanding musician -

could have this kind of treatment,

what chance is there for them?

So they might as well

go into a different direction.

[Thoth] San Diego State University

gave a major in astronomy.

So I chose to go there.

I was in a lost state in San Diego.

It felt like a dead end.

And I started to fantasize a lot

about not being.

I conspired to get sleeping pills

from the medical supplies at school.

I remember putting on Mahler -

probably the Tenth Symphony.

And, uh, and taking these pills.

And then going... uhhh...

this kind of "going away."

And then I heard a voice say, it's not

your time yet - you have more to do.

That was the turning point.

Either I was going to die, or

I was going to have to let everything out.

In the second act,

Nular-in is stranded in the desert

and a frightening winged creature

called Caguma

becomes his mentor.

Nular-in is extremely scared of Caguma.

Caguma is the shadow of Nular-in,

so it comes out with this voice

and it comes out with that voice

and high, low and it's just like...

let it all out.

Let everything out.

Whatever is in you, let it out.

And the scariness is that

so many different things

can come out so quickly

from one moment to the next.

It is psychotic.

[laughs]

[music, singing]

It was a stupid thing to take the pills.

Luckily I had a person who

supported me in my struggles.

As a mentor, he guided me towards

my finding tools to love myself.

I was very afraid of my mentor.

He was a teacher, he was a wonderful,

gentle spirit. And he was gay.

That was very important because he was

not afraid of touching me, of shaking me.

And I was very afraid of

his touching me,

because I was very afraid of

my sexual self.

I was trusting him more and more.

And one afternoon we did a series

of wonderful relaxation exercises

and I was just like boom and I was up

dancing in front of them.

It was a... And they were shocked.

I was shocked. We were all shocked.

And I said, turn on Swan Lake

and he turned on Swan Lake.

For the next two and a half hours,

I just danced around their living room

and they were like...

they just sat there stunned

because this was this person

who didn't do any movement,

was completely shy, did not...

And all of a sudden I was up there

doing this and they...

they couldn't believe it.

And then I became a club dancer,

then I became...

I was dancing like crazy

all over the place,

dancing at any party and

creating quite a scene

because now that I had

opened that up,

I just made a mess.

[laughs]

[applause]

Thanks for your expression.

I mean, do you just get rave reviews

like everywhere you go?

I wish! [laughs]

He sounded like a girl.

[mimicking singing]

I don't know what the hell that was,

but it looked retarded.

I thought - he looked gay.

One of the things that people

have their first reaction to

is the fact that

I'm blurring gender lines.

Because I was nurtured

in a very female family,

it enabled me not to shut down that,

which is what sometimes happens

when one has a father.

The tendency for the father

is to beat down one's feminine aspect.

But I was protected in this family.

I was allowed to.

So I was allowed to go into all

of the sensitive aspects of my being.

I am not physically a hermaphrodite,

but on the spiritual level,

that is definitely the case.

My best friend in high school was gay.

And he would always make passes at me.

And it created much difficulty for me.

I was aware of being attracted to men,

but I was also too much ashamed of it.

And I was longing for male companionship,

without having a father in my life.

I did not even conceive

that it was possible that

I had a capacity for loving both.

I had to have a choice, which was very

similar to I had to make a choice

between my African ancestry

and my European Semitic ancestry.

It is only in the past 10 years

that I've really started to realize

that I can love everybody,

and I don't have to

make a choice about anything.

Bisexuality is my basic nature.

I was working as a waiter and

I started growing dreadlocks.

And I felt like it was really a nice

connection with my African ancestors.

I was unhireable, and they said it

directly to me:

"You know, we hate to say this,

but you look kind of dirty

and we can't have you

working on our floor."

I was at this place where,

"I can't get any job!

I don't have any... Should I pump gas?

What should I do?

I mean I can't get into restaurants

and I'm not gonna change my hair."

One day I went down into the metropolitan

subway system, which is called BART,

and I experienced a man

playing violin there.

And I immediately said,

"Oh, I can do that!"

When I started playing in the subway,

the first thing I started playing

was the Bach B minor.

And then I then I went to

Mozart concertos.

People really loved it.

I was doing well. It was not tons of money

but as usual it was enough to survive.

And then I started doing my own music.

I was starting to realize that

I was completely free to express myself

however I wanted to

and that was every way.

I went into one of the second-hand stores

on Haight Street and there was a skirt.

And I tried it on. It was so fun!

It was so stimulating, so erotic,

and so exciting.

And I said, I like this.

[laughs]

So I bought it!

And I started wearing

whatever clothes I wanted.

I started being whoever I wanted.

I start dancing where I wanted.

And I didn't have any thing saying,

well, you shouldn't do that.

I was free to say, well, who am I?

Well my name is Stephen Kaufman,

however I needed to take my own name.

I needed to take something

that was close to my spirit,

exploring who I am in mythology,

and finding myself settling

within the Egyptian mythology.

Egypt was the center of people

of mixed race in the ancient times.

And so Thoth was a deity of that time.

Hermes and Thoth are messengers.

I am being turned into a

messenger who has roots

in all the various seemingly

disparate peoples of this planet.

Well, in actuality we're all

emanating from the same source.

[man playing saxophone]

And this is the most important message.

[music]

Harlem is the place of my ancestors.

My mother grew up here.

I'm the prodigal son,

coming back.

Walkabouts are my opportunity

to meet all my ancestors.

And every person that I meet...

... I ask for forgiveness for judging you

and not being proud

of your presence within my being

because I can see you in my very part.

When they are able to open up,

and they're not afraid of me

and running down the street

or hiding behind a pole,

and they do offer me forgiveness.

Then it is you are me, I am you,

and it's that that I seek,

because... the connection.

The dinner tonight

- this is dinner -

but this gets saved up.

I save up my money

to visit San Francisco

for short periods of time

to see my sweetheart.

In San Francisco I have a dear one who

I'm deeply in love with named Susana.

The not seeing each other is probably

the hardest process in a relationship.

[Susana] Well, it's hard, you know,

not being around him.

I love him, and I want to be with him,

and he's very involved with

what he's doing in New York.

I'm still going through

trying to get my career together.

And so that makes things challenging,

to say the least.

He said, "I want to marry you,"

and I said yes.

Maybe, possibly, we'll have one place

and I will be there, doing my thing,

and he'll be off doing his own thing.

I don't see that happening

within this year.

And we talk on the phone a lot,

to keep our connection strong.

[music]

[thunder]

[Thoth]

This rain is driving me crazy!

And, um, the tunnel, I know is wet.

I haven't done my thing for a while,

and it feels really icky.

When I'm depressed and gloomy,

I doubt myself immensely.

And I'll be sitting in a naked

heap and mass,

wondering what the hell I am.

What am I doing?

I mean... I... I...

I'm inventing this language

when... ahhh!... uhhh...

Everything becomes broken down.

[metronome ticking]

[mother] It's very hard having him live

with me, and he's not aware of that.

He's in his world.

He's got his thing that he has to do.

[Thoth] Being lucky enough to have

my mother offering me a place to stay

has assisted me in doing my work.

However I do feel guilty.

It's very hard.

[mother] It's just difficult because

I'm emotionally tied to him.

And it upsets me when he's upset.

I feel very, very lonely.

[laughs]

And I think, boy, when will they

ever grow up?

[laughs]

Then maybe I can have a date or two.

[laughs]

[music]

[Thoth] I think often about how men

have left my life.

Take my band, for instance.

I thought we were really

extremely close,

and now I don't talk

to any of them anymore.

I had been performing on the street

for about 4 years

when I met Michael and added him

as a drummer to my violin.

That was about 1991.

And then Scott came in -

we played for a year.

We had a harpist

and another drummer.

And it started getting bigger and bigger.

Then it just blew up.

Michael left, and Boris

just about the same time - the harpist.

Scott left and that left Ron and I alone,

as two playing together -

Ron playing a tribal drum kit.

And we took that act all over the coast,

from Los Angeles up to Portland.

As each person left, I had to

figure out how to work their part.

When Scott left I had to do the harmony,

and when Ron left I had to do the rhythms.

And all of a sudden, I realized

that I was a timpanist with my feet.

I was playing drums with my feet.

And I realized, I am my mother's protégé.

It was very painful having them go.

Again, it felt like

male energy was leaving -

very much like my father - and not

hanging in there for the difficult issues.

[door knocker]

How are you - Bob Janoff.

I secured the death certificate

of George Kaufman,

which I have here...

which indicates the cause of his death

was, uh...

liver lymphoma, which is a cancer -

and he also had heart disease.

The house where George lived

until he passed away.

When was the last time

you saw your father?

When I was around ten, eleven,

something like that.

And how old are you now?

Now I'm 46.

- That's a long time ago.

- It's a long time ago.

An event occurred in his and my life

on the last meeting

that we saw each other.

He picked me up for a visit,

and we were driving in the car,

and we approached an intersection

where the light was changing.

And he sped the car up to beat the light

and get through the intersection quickly.

And just at that moment

a boy crossed the street

and he hit the boy, and the boy bounced

up and against the windshield,

and fell off to the right.

And it was horrifying. It was just...

... the worst thing...

it was the worst.

And the boy died at that scene.

When the police questioned my father,

my father said that the light was green.

But I knew and I saw

that the light was yellow, turning red.

And it was a really hard thing

because my father,

being a doctor and being one of...

the most moral person that I knew,

it was like he was lying

and I couldn't believe it.

It just was not...

I was not able to understand.

My father stopped contacting me,

and I never saw him again.

[music]

I don't really know what I should feel...

and that I have discovered that you...

... died and never made contact with me...

and I grieve for you for...

[blowing]

for all my life.

[music]

In the second act, Caguma sends Nular-in

to find three sacred objects.

And when Nular-in returns,

Caguma is dying.

Caguma asks Nular-in to drink

a bit of Caguma's blood.

After drinking this blood, Nular-in

births as a fully-realized Being.

It takes a lot of courage to just be,

in a world where nobody,

pretty much, is being.

Everybody is trying to be like something

rather than be.

To walk around a Being is really...

... is really the most excellent thing.

I'm also presenting Wall Street with my...

... my work, and I'm looking for investors,

ha, ha, ha!

[tuning violin]

[music]

So you consider what I do panhandling?

Well, if you are collecting money,

that's what it is.

But everybody's collecting money here.

If you're out here collecting money...

Everybody in this building... [laughs]

Can't do it on the street - sorry.

Absolutely - I'm not gonna

be here again.

[laughs]

Don't worry about it - I'm gone.

But it's too bad, because I'm

a blessed creature. [laughs]

That guy - he said, "I hope

you win the lottery ticket...

so you can continue doing this

for the rest of your life."

And I will - that's funny!

[music]

I would love to be

in the tunnel forever.

People come in...

and I feel my energy link with theirs

and the energy increases.

I want people to stay and listen

and just be there.

Because it helps me,

because I have more energy to move,

because if there are more

people in the tunnel,

there's more energy that I move.

Though I know that they're gonna leave.

I have to let them go.

[music]

Then that process is like death,

that process is like grieving,

because it is a loss

and loss is hard.

And that process of letting them go

is my work...

[music]

Subtitles: Iladi Elladi