Tarzan ! Tarzan !
Musée
du Quai Branly
16 June - 27 September 2009
Curator: Roger Boulay
Roger Boulay is an anthropologist, a specialist in
the art of Oceania and an exhibition curator. He was curator for the exhibition
"L'aristocrate et ses cannibales : le voyage en Océanie du comte
Festetics de Tolna, 1893 - 1896" (The aristocrat and his cannibals : the
voyage of the Count of Festetics de Tolna, 1893 – 1896, to Oceania), held
in 2007 at the Musée du Quai Branly.
“It was as though I had been suddenly snatched back through countless
ages to a long-dead past, and dropped into the midst of the prehistoric
life of my Paleolithic progenitors” . . . “Tarzan thought of the fragile
frontier between the primitive and the civilised”.
~ Edgar Rice Burroughs
Copyright © by Edgar Rice Burroughs, Inc. All Rights
Reserved
This exhibition dedicated to an icon of popular culture allows the public
to discover how the hero was created and decipher the myth that he embodies.
Although Edgar Rice Burroughs is the father of the Tarzan character,
all those who used him in comics, film, posters, models, records, games
, etc. refer to collective images and representations that are at the roots
of one of our century’s strongest myths.
The exhibition looks at the origins and nature of Tarzan, as a character
as well as a myth (from Saturnin Farandoul, a 1914 documentary, to Greystoke
in
1983), and redefines the character as a modern hero fighting for the protection
of nature.

PARIS
— Last week it was announced in Britain that “Me Cheeta,” the comic “autobiography”
of Tarzan’s sidekick, now a septuagenarian, was a finalist for the Man
Booker Prize. Leave it to the French, meanwhile, to resuscitate Tarzan
only to stick him in a semiotic jungle.
Edgar Rice Burroughs's famous ape man is the subject of a summer show
at the Musée du Quai Branly here that mixes old comics and film
clips with children’s action figures, a stuffed crocodile and the female
robot from “Metropolis.” (Don’t ask.)
This being a serious museum, there are a few genuine African totems
and shields, which look as out of place in this context as Maureen O’Sullivan
did, toting her banana-leaf pocketbook and wearing a pair of homemade pumps,
while standing in the bush beside the loinclothed Johnny Weissmuller and
two forlorn elephants in the film “Tarzan Finds a Son!”
The show has been wildly popular.
Its organizers cogitate, with Gallic élan, on Tarzan’s proto-environmentalism;
his philosophical roots in Rousseau and the 19th-century nudist movement;
his literary antecedents in Kipling and H. M. Stanley; and his mythological
reliance on the stories of Hercules and Romulus and Remus. The exhibition
also makes hay about the first words Tarzan uttered not in ape grunts but
the language of civilized men: "Mais oui," the young Lord Greystoke said.
And of course there is also the sex angle. “One can expound as much
as one likes in scientific speeches about his mythical and universal nature,
but one always gets back to the fact that Tarzan is a half-naked guy saving
white-skinned young women, lost in the jungle and wearing their party dresses,
from the claws of vicious gorillas,” noted Libération, the newspaper,
in its review of the exhibition. “It’s all about torrid eroticism.”
So it is.
The show is a mess, truth be told. It has wonderful drawings from bygone
comic artists like Burne Hogarth and Hal Foster, and it means to use Tarzan
to help dissect how Western pop culture has (mis)interpreted the non-Western
“other.” But it’s displayed in cramped galleries at a museum whose theatrical,
heart of darkness installation of non-European cultures as diverse and
unrelated as Inuit and Cameroonians — in meandering ill-lighted spaces
connoting primitive, spooky peoples — is of a piece with the antediluvian
ethos of the original Tarzan.
The highborn “killer of beasts and many black men,” as Tarzan unfortunately
described himself in “Tarzan of the Apes,” was conceived just before World
War I by Burroughs, a former gold miner and cowboy, in a climate of American
expansionism, late colonialism and institutionalized racism.
Before he died in 1950 Burroughs published about two dozen Tarzan potboilers,
his fictional character becoming an increasingly fantastical figure, speaking
a dozen languages while battling the teensy Minunians and dinosaurs. An
easygoing guy with a fondness for golf who settled in what came to be called,
thanks to him, Tarzana, Calif., Burroughs never bothered to set foot in
Africa, which is why Tarzan also faced off against Asian tigers and killed
lions by wrestling them into a full nelson. As Gore Vidal once phrased
it, the author of Tarzan was “not one to compromise a vivid unconscious
with dim reality.”
This turned out to make his work like catnip for Hollywood producers
who, beginning in 1918, released Tarzan movies more frequently than Burroughs
did books. They were the perfect vehicles for parading stars in various
states of undress.
“In the first Tarzan movies,” said Charles Tesson, who picked the film
clips for the show, “Tarzan wears a tuxedo. After Weissmuller took the
role, he becomes a superhero, an abandoned child, an amnesiac, a naïf,
pure but strong, très sportif.”
The exhibition’s principal curator, Roger Boulay, stressed how not just
Tarzan films but also comics and books became a barometer of shifting political
and social standards, in France no less than in America. The blue-blood
colonialist defending Africa for white people for years played off against
this country’s foreign escapades as well as its anxieties about miscegenation.
Expurgated and unexpurgated versions of the comic strip were published
here, one with Jane dressed for innocent French youngsters, the other with
her in nature’s own to please more seasoned aficionados. An alliance of
French Catholics and Communists eventually pushed through a law that, for
a while, purged Tarzan from French movie theaters.
“For the Catholics it was the nudity,” Mr. Boulay explained. “For the
Communists it was the fact that he was a violent, unemployed aristocrat
who ate bananas.”
In America, Tarzan on screen, as he did in some of the later Burroughs
books, went the way of late Dick Tracy in the funny pages. By the 1970s
Tracy was battling outer space criminals on the Moon in a rocket-powered
garbage can. Tarzan vanquished Vikings and ancient Romans and during World
War II joined the Foreign Legion to fight the Japanese on Sumatra.
The exhibition ends with a French television advertisement for men’s
perfume, directed by the great Jean-Paul Goude, from 2005. A male model
joins leopards and monkeys drinking at a watering hole. “Guerlain Homme,”
a voice-over intones. “For the animal in you.” It’s a throwback to the
Tarzan who hadn’t yet morphed into a time-traveling Superman.
That’s one plausible explanation for the show’s popularity: fondness
for a gadgetless hero from the days before “Transformers: Revenge of the
Fallen.”
There’s also the cachet of the eco-warrior, which the exhibition pushes
hardest and which plays well here in France: Tarzan protecting the jungle
from greedy commercial interests. But Libération no doubt had it
right. The Parisian boys glued the other morning to a video monitor playing
a clip from “Tarzan and His Mate” (1934) didn’t seem to be rapt by the
concept of environmental preservation.
The movie was the first major instance in America of censorship under
the Hays Code, which cracked down on racy Hollywood fare. In this case
the outrage was over a skinny-dipping scene: a body-double for O’Sullivan
briefly swimming underwater buck naked with Weissmuller.
The boys stared with great scientific interest.
Tarzan turns out to be a man for all times, having swung across the
centuries, through eras of colonialism and multiculturalism, austerity
and profligacy.
But some things never change.