The title of this post is a take on the 1994 New Zealand film Once Were Warriors, a difficult and downbeat film to watch. I saw it some years ago, and found it depressing and disturbing. In fact I could barely watch it to the end. It deals with modern-day Maori existence in city suburbs, and is about a family trapped in poverty, and how that circumstance leads to male degradation and loss of self-respect. For Maori men were once proud and honourable warriors, with a clear code to follow and uphold. Now they have turned into drunks and abusers, turning savagely on their women. A return to lost standards, away from such an environment, seems to be the only hope.
It's funny how writing yesterday's post on Prince Harry's new book (to be officially published tomorrow) brought Once Were Warriors to mind. The parallels are not obvious: life in a Royal Family is definitely not a matter of poverty, deprivation and enforced idleness! Nevertheless, there is a denial of personal freedom to do what one likes, whenever one likes. It must be very hard to cope with. I can imagine feeling trapped. It's not a life I'd ever want, and I'm sure that - if they think about it - most people (in this country at least) will take the same view. Too many strict rules; too much uncongenial duty; nice clothes and houses, and the best of medical attention, but nowhere enough fun. Yes, you can be a style setter, and have celebrity status; but public adulation is a fickle thing and can wane. I'm quite sure that being well-known and admired is a poor exchange for the loss of anonymity, and free choice to do as one pleases.
What, you may say, have you never aspired to famous? Well, of course I did when young. I wanted to sing, and have a string of hits. Who didn't? And later, there were idle dreams of my own hour-long Christmas Special on every TV channel. Readers can take great comfort in the happy fact that such fantasies never came to be. I'm glad too: the hectic, high-pressure life of a star has all too often led to rapid burnout, health problems, and an early death. My own under-the-radar life let me retire at fifty-two, and enjoy a jolly good time thereafter doing simple things. I couldn't have had that if I'd chased any kind of celebrity, and particularly if I'd become a member of the Royal Family. Not that either were ever possibilities. Being talentless and lacking in eye-appeal has saved me from much!
It's always been a maxim with me that 'everything has a price'. It may of course be a price one is willing to pay. I rate anonymity above fame, because I value the freedom to go anywhere I want without being recognised. Nobody will bother me. Nothing is expected of me. I don't have to behave. I can be myself. The price - foregoing prestige, privilege, attention and public adulation - is well worth it for what I do get instead.
Some crave the opposite. There's no right way here, so long as you do realistically consider the consequences of seeking a high profile, and feel comfortable with the outcome. It's unfortunate that some don't think it through well enough.
