THE PARADOX OF TRUTH AND CRAFT
(As told by Janet Cooke, James Frey and The Blair Witch)

By Tyler James Greene, Artistic/Directing Resident

Donald Margulies' new play indirectly asks us: How important is truth in the telling of a story? More specifically, is it the most imaginative story we hold in high regard, or the story that is most truthful?

In order to fully digest these questions, it is helpful to take a look at some similar case studies from contemporary American culture. No modern characters can highlight the paradox of truth and craft more effectively than novelist James Frey, journalist Janet Cooke and the independent filmmakers responsible for The Blair Witch Project.

In September 2005, Oprah Winfrey named James Frey's A Million Little Pieces the next title for her monthly book club. Like most of Oprah's book club selections, it became quite popular; so popular, in fact, that it was recorded as the best-selling book of 2005.

In January of 2006, a website named "The Smoking Gun" accused Mr. Frey of taking too much creative license in a book that he allegedly claimed was true. From the moment of the first accusation, the author argued that his book was a "truthful retelling of his story."

Mr. Frey states, in an interview with Larry King, ". . . I wrote a memoir. I never expected the book to come under the type of scrutiny that it has. A memoir literally means my story, a memoir is a subjective retelling of events."

In a memoir, the heart of the narrative is in the "essential truth" - in this case, Mr. Frey's tumultuous battle with drug and alcohol addiction.

Some argue that former Washington Post journalist Janet Cooke's article "Jimmy's World" also convened an "essential truth." The article profiles an 8-year-old heroin addict living on the streets of Washington, D.C.

Cooke's sources for the story maintained that they knew of the boy's location. Unable to find him, she created her story in order to please her editors.

The story prompted the mayor of the city and other government officials to organize a police search for the boy. When he couldn't be found, Mayor Marion Barry continued to defend both the boy and Ms. Cooke, stating that the child had been found and was receiving treatment.

Around the time of that particular announcement, the article was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, which Cooke won in April 1981.

The "essential truth," in this case, was a portrayal of inner-city life in America, of homelessness and addiction against all odds. While the story was mostly falsified, some assert that this "essential truth" helped bring the issues of homelessness and addiction to the forefront of the public consciousness.

Due to the public outcry and overwhelming dissent, Cooke resigned from the Washington Post. On the day of her resignation, she gave the following statement:

"'Jimmy's World' was in essence a fabrication. I never encountered or interviewed an 8-year-old heroin addict. The Sept. 28, 1980, article in the Washington Post was a serious misrepresentation which I deeply regret. I apologize to my newspaper, my profession, the Pulitzer Board and all seekers of the truth. Today, in facing up to the truth, I have submitted my resignation."

Unlike both James Frey and Janet Cooke, the authors of The Blair Witch Project meticulously planned a hoax. The film is a 1999 independent horror film about three young filmmakers who find themselves lost in the woods, while filming a documentary about a local legend.

Without fancy Hollywood tricks or a musical score of any kind, the film presents the narrative literally from the lenses of the actors. The teaser posters were designed to emphasize the documentary nature of the film.

The combination of both internet advertising and these realistic posters gave the public the impression that the film was, in fact, "based on a true story." The Sci-Fi Channel even went so far as to air a fake documentary about the local legend featured in the film.

Most surprisingly, the three actors in the film were listed for quite some time as "missing, presumed dead" on the Internet Movie Database. Eduardo Sanchez, one of the film's creators, says of this kind of approach to storytelling, "Our goal was to . . . blur the line between reality and acting and take [the actors and audience] to the edge."

In that and future statements, the filmmakers admitted that the story was untrue. While the public did generate some opposition to this kind of marketing tactic, the objection was minimal.

These stories suggest that perhaps the medium or genre in which you are "weaving your yarn" defines whether truth is of value. If a genre is defined by a commitment to truth and accuracy, many argue that this truth must be honored.

But, as we've seen particularly in the case of A Million Little Pieces, a certain "essential truth" can be told without a total commitment to exactitude.

Another layer of the debate is uncovered in the case of The Blair Witch Project: Why did the creators of this story receive less judgment and criticism? Is it that the film genre is held under a different kind of microscope than memoir or journalism?

Or does it have something to do with the degree and source of the media attention that Mr. Frey and Ms. Cooke received, as opposed to that of the film?

In a culture of blame and quick impulses to accuse, it is no wonder that powerful and well-crafted stories go through the ringer in a search for truth. It is certainly no surprise that the power of the imagination is often downgraded in import over the infallibility of fact.

But we shouldn't be so quick to dismiss the naysayers. Does genre matter and is the "essential truth" enough? Or should we settle with a mostly false tale which sparks our imaginations and activates discussion about our lives?

In the end, I leave you with how we began: How important is truth in the telling of a story?