I had a strange reaction to "Thought Crimes." I thought: This is the birth of a writer.
Valle, "the Cannibal Cop," seemed unusually gifted. He would go on a site called Dark Fetish, and he would write at length about his fantasies concerning cannibalism. As he observes in the documentary, he was a vivid writer. Perhaps too vivid. Other users of Dark Fetish would get really, really excited about his work. Valle--like anyone in the grip of a new passion--began staying up later and later. He was flexing his muscles. You see some of his disquieting sentences in the documentary--and they are brisk and detailed and shocking. In other words, the man can WRITE.
I began Googling Valle as I watched the documentary, and--sure enough--he has emerged from the Cannibal Cop mess as a new man. He is a published author. One memoir, one horror novel. Thus far.
This is not to dismiss the wrongness of a great deal of Valle's behavior. He should not have been posting information about people he knew on the Internet. (That said, isn't the creative use of actual life an issue that plagues many, many writers? Writers struggle to know when, and in what circumstances, to tell or adapt or slightly "dress up" a real-world story. I'm reminded of a book my mother gave me when I was a kid, a book called "Turning Life Into Fiction." The main advice was: If it's a woman in real life, make her a man in your story, and give him a small penis. Then NO ONE will come forward.)
Valle should not have used police databases to obtain more information. I don't fully believe Valle in an interview--just as I wouldn't fully believe, say, Truman Capote--and I'm especially suspicious when Valle says, "I wouldn't hurt a fly!" (Most of us actually do have it within our souls to go out and hurt a fly.)
I'm not sure that--left to his own devices--Valle would *never* have acted on his cannibalistic urges. And so his wife's discovery--and his eventual jail time--can be seen as a blessing in disguise. (I'm actually not at all convinced that Valle had a clear trajectory in mind when he began articulating various fantasies. I wish that he would admit, I was really troubled and confused and spinning out of control, and I wasn't sure where I was headed. I suppose admitting that bit would jeopardize his legal standing in our country.)
In any case, it's abundantly clear from the documentary that Valle married too early, and that he didn't really like his wife. And so we can maybe see his bizarre actions as (on one level) a way of preparing an exit from his own marriage. In that sense, Valle has succeeded.
I thought of someone unexpected as I tried to "digest" (for lack of a better term) the material on Valle. The person I thought of was Lee Israel ("Can You Ever Forgive Me"). Like Valle, Lee Israel was a born writer. She had a vivid imagination. She had a slightly perverse sense of humor. She had a way with words. She was sly, shy, and somewhat antisocial. Join the club!
Like Valle, Israel was a confused person who didn't always know how to make use of her creative instincts. She didn't post fantasies about wishing to eat people, but she did impersonate Dorothy Parker, and she labeled her own writing as Parker's. Like Valle, Israel was punished for her bad behavior. (And, in both cases, the punishment has been fairly minor, in the grand scheme of things.)
It's fun to imagine what Janet Malcolm might do with Valle's story--or, say, what Nicole Holofcener might do.
At the end of "Thought Crimes," we see a wounded Valle trying to piece together a new life. He is standing by a pond, and he is ruminating about dating. "I get companionship, don't I?" he says. (Or he says *something* like this.) "It has been missing from my life for a long while..."
And we're left with that. An imperfect man--slightly bewildered by his own past. Trying to make sense of himself--for himself--and for the camera. Weak and ashamed and pained--but still trudging along. It's a Chekhovian moment. If we're honest, we might admit that we can empathize--and that we are moved.
Valle, "the Cannibal Cop," seemed unusually gifted. He would go on a site called Dark Fetish, and he would write at length about his fantasies concerning cannibalism. As he observes in the documentary, he was a vivid writer. Perhaps too vivid. Other users of Dark Fetish would get really, really excited about his work. Valle--like anyone in the grip of a new passion--began staying up later and later. He was flexing his muscles. You see some of his disquieting sentences in the documentary--and they are brisk and detailed and shocking. In other words, the man can WRITE.
I began Googling Valle as I watched the documentary, and--sure enough--he has emerged from the Cannibal Cop mess as a new man. He is a published author. One memoir, one horror novel. Thus far.
This is not to dismiss the wrongness of a great deal of Valle's behavior. He should not have been posting information about people he knew on the Internet. (That said, isn't the creative use of actual life an issue that plagues many, many writers? Writers struggle to know when, and in what circumstances, to tell or adapt or slightly "dress up" a real-world story. I'm reminded of a book my mother gave me when I was a kid, a book called "Turning Life Into Fiction." The main advice was: If it's a woman in real life, make her a man in your story, and give him a small penis. Then NO ONE will come forward.)
Valle should not have used police databases to obtain more information. I don't fully believe Valle in an interview--just as I wouldn't fully believe, say, Truman Capote--and I'm especially suspicious when Valle says, "I wouldn't hurt a fly!" (Most of us actually do have it within our souls to go out and hurt a fly.)
I'm not sure that--left to his own devices--Valle would *never* have acted on his cannibalistic urges. And so his wife's discovery--and his eventual jail time--can be seen as a blessing in disguise. (I'm actually not at all convinced that Valle had a clear trajectory in mind when he began articulating various fantasies. I wish that he would admit, I was really troubled and confused and spinning out of control, and I wasn't sure where I was headed. I suppose admitting that bit would jeopardize his legal standing in our country.)
In any case, it's abundantly clear from the documentary that Valle married too early, and that he didn't really like his wife. And so we can maybe see his bizarre actions as (on one level) a way of preparing an exit from his own marriage. In that sense, Valle has succeeded.
I thought of someone unexpected as I tried to "digest" (for lack of a better term) the material on Valle. The person I thought of was Lee Israel ("Can You Ever Forgive Me"). Like Valle, Lee Israel was a born writer. She had a vivid imagination. She had a slightly perverse sense of humor. She had a way with words. She was sly, shy, and somewhat antisocial. Join the club!
Like Valle, Israel was a confused person who didn't always know how to make use of her creative instincts. She didn't post fantasies about wishing to eat people, but she did impersonate Dorothy Parker, and she labeled her own writing as Parker's. Like Valle, Israel was punished for her bad behavior. (And, in both cases, the punishment has been fairly minor, in the grand scheme of things.)
It's fun to imagine what Janet Malcolm might do with Valle's story--or, say, what Nicole Holofcener might do.
At the end of "Thought Crimes," we see a wounded Valle trying to piece together a new life. He is standing by a pond, and he is ruminating about dating. "I get companionship, don't I?" he says. (Or he says *something* like this.) "It has been missing from my life for a long while..."
And we're left with that. An imperfect man--slightly bewildered by his own past. Trying to make sense of himself--for himself--and for the camera. Weak and ashamed and pained--but still trudging along. It's a Chekhovian moment. If we're honest, we might admit that we can empathize--and that we are moved.
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