Sacramento Xena Con 1997

Xena-con: Private Obsession or Public Rapture?

The Pilgrimage

You may have discovered it yourself at the very beginning; you may have stumbled on it quite by accident; you may have received the word from another. In any case, you are now a fan. How you rate yourself on the "hardcore nutball" scale is irrelevant. How much trivia you know matters little. It doesn't even matter if you've seen every single episode. It's all you think about. It's all you care about. Most importantly, it's all you want to talk about. With everyone and anyone. Problem is, no one else seems to share your obsession. You're frustrated, isolated and alone. You must take the next step. You must journey to the only place where you can find the solace you need. You must join the other supplicants at the altar. You must go to a Xena-con.

Without sounding disrespectful to other deities, Xena rules. She does no wrong. Her world should be our world. She lives on a diet of honor and loyalty. Ever vigilant against her own dark nature, she rests each night on a blanket of fortitude. Come the dawn, she endlessly searches for the absolution that may never come. She predates the other great seekers, she is the mother of us all.

Yet, when you step into the light of day and travel hence to commune with others like you, anxiety and trepidation are unwanted fellow travelers. Are there others like me? How will we know each other? Will I be able to express to others what I feel within myself? Has anyone else found the grail of truth amongst the pretenders and false prophets? Should a private obsession become a public rapture?

Actually, yes and no. As with most things, it's all shades of gray. Any Xenite knows that just as there are lesser degrees of evil, so too are there many degrees of understanding. Truth be told, (and that is the real point here) everyone has their own version of the grail. For some, it is a simple act of participation. For others, it is the ultimate in role-playing. A fan convention is the gray-scale of humanity.

The Gateway

We enter with a quiet reverence, moving as one up the two escalators through a space eerily reminiscent of a modern-day Temple of Athena. At first, quiet hangs over the main ballroom as the haunting sound of Xena's theme echoes off the airwalls. Quickly warming to the spirit of the event, their voices and enthusiasm gradually increase in anticipation of the coming festivities.

The costume and sound-alike contest is a cross between a fan's love of the character they are portraying and a kind of oddly mocking attempt to be worthy. The auction begins as a call for alms for a charity and ends with a sort of "Which hero raised more money?" Those who purchase a piece of divinity are nameless and faceless, the master of ceremonies/auctioneer moving on quickly to the next item. They sit reverently as Lucy's voice echoes through the hall, singing a nameless lament. It's a little haunting, a little eerie.

This is serious business, the crowd loudly disapproved of a question about Lucy Lawless' physical dimensions (Thou shalt not defame the image of the lord, lest ye be judged). "Stump the experts" questions that the questioner does not know the answer to are met with stern rebuffs (Thou shalt not quote the scripture if ye not be worthy).

As they approach the stage for a true-false quiz for prizes, you get the full spectrum of these devoted. Kids, teen-agers, adults. Men, women. All colors, all ages. They all take a risk in showing themselves, to be up front in the spotlight. But that's the point. It shows dedication and loyalty. It's an odd version of musical chairs. When it comes to Xena's quiz, there is a mad rush to the stage. They let the winner of the Hercules contest play. The pride with which they raise their "True" or "False" sign. The pain when they have to relinquish them. But hey, there are no losers in this flock. We all believe. Which is more important than anything.

Brad Carpenter

The world of Xena: Warrior Princess begins with Renaissance Pictures and their emissary in our midst, Brad Carpenter. An enthusiastic cheerleader of the Xenites, he exhorts The Xena Scrolls According to Tapert and Raimi. He allows us limited access to these hallowed works, tempting us with promises of Scrolls to come. His reassurance that all is well calms us, with promises of dark storylines to test our faith and reassurances that the bonds between Xena and Gabrielle will not be broken. But, he insists, this is not a mythology of suffering and despair. Those who are allowed access to the inner sanctum are privy to the creation of our Valhalla. He reminds us that in the Xenaverse being dead is not the end of the world and that all things are possible. Things are never as they appear, my children, and giants are not to be feared; their massive bulk merely a trick of the eye. It all depends on how you look at it, he explains. From your vantage point at home it appears to be a Titan, but a slightly different angle shows us the tricks of forced perspective. Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain Dorothy, the Wizard is alive and well in Oz. But, as the saying goes, Brad is preaching to the converted. We lift up our eyes unto the heavens and say: "Amen."

Robert Trebor

Some characters can move between the two worlds. They serve as the gatekeepers to our Camelot. Robert Trebor and his alter Salmoneus, take us gently by the hand and walk us back and forth, knowing full well that we may peek into paradise but ultimately, we must return to our own dimension.

Robert's greatest gift is his complete willingness to let us piggyback on Salmoneus, for it is suspected that the actor and his persona are not all that dissimilar. He speaks of his work on the show with a delight that few people ever experience in their lives. He represents a kind of ideal as his immersion in this Paradise is complete. Robert is both actor and director. Salmoneus is friends with both Hercules and Xena. Both men are warm, funny, charming, mischievous, a bit of a rogue; everything Salmoneus but entirely Robert. He looks thinner in person than he appears on the show and is charmed when someone mentions it. "Isn't black wonderful?" he exclaims, referring to the slimming color of his turtleneck shirt and pants. Actually, it's his costume that makes him look so dumpy. Robert reveals that Salmoneus is the most blatantly human of characters: he unabashedly loves gourmet food, beautiful women and the good life. More importantly though, he's a gentleman. All great rogues are. When Robert is asked a question about the apparent lack of underwear on one of his female co-stars, he replies, calling the young disciple by name: "Jill, there are certain things a gentleman doesn't reveal." When asked: "Why do you always run away?" Salmoneus logically replies: "When confronted by danger do you step in and say 'hit me?'" Robert is the perfect entrée into this world: obliging, generous and seems so like many of us in the audience that we can't help but feel welcome. Our public rapture is safe with Robert Trebor. Instantly, we feel he shares it.

Hudson Leick

Evil holds us captive. The greatest evil has always been the most seductive. Those who embody our darkest side do so at the risk of never being able to extricate themselves. So it is for Callisto. Children are the real barometers. Watch their faces as Hudson Leick paces the stage. "Is that really her?" they seem to ask. They gaze up and she returns the gaze--golden haired, statuesque, coyly evil. She is Callisto for them. They should never be told that Santa Claus doesn't exist. If absolutely necessary, let them find out on their own. Please don't break the spell. Oddly, she understands. She stays entirely in character. She's much taller than you might expect, with phenomenally long legs. The 3-4 inch heels complete the illusion. She's great with kids, indulging them, understanding their innocence and the spontaneity of their questions. Callisto is the living embodiment of evil. She is everything children have been taught is wrong and yet here she is so approachable. It's okay to ask why Callisto always has such a bad attitude. She gently explains that if you were Callisto, you'd have a bad attitude too.

Then, for a moment, the cloak of Callisto falls away. It is Hudson who accepts gifts from a beautiful novitiate dressed as Callisto. She lets the girl take over the service while she opens them. The woman kneeling on the stage ripping off the Snoopy wrapping paper is not at all the quantified embodiment of evil but instead a soul who understands the fragility of ego more than we will ever know and her generosity endears her to us even more.

It's the adults she seems to have problems with, or rather, their lack of acceptance that there is a DIFFERENCE between as she said, "Callisto" (pointing at the screen) "Hudson" (pointing to herself).

The Fans

It is the fine line between reality and fantasy that must constantly be drawn for the adults. They must be reminded that this is fiction, not reality. They cross that line, sometimes to a hazardous degree.

When they use their children in the process, the danger becomes all the more ominous. A child's fantasy world is a precious and fragile thing. It is their own private world and if we as adults are invited in, we must venture with care not to impose our egos upon our children's individual holoprogram. Actually, only children can leave the holodeck and take the world they have created with them and adults have no right to impose their dreams and aspirations on what is, ultimately, pure imagination. A child wanting to dress up like a favorite character is charming, but to listen to a parent directing that child from the third row is chilling.

So too is the notion that adults somehow can recreate themselves in the image of their obsession. This is exactly the point where private obsession and public rapture collide head-on. This is the moment where you take the ultimate of risks: exposing your deepest inner self to the judgment of total strangers. You must confront what is inexorably the bottom line: Can our most private wishes stand up to the harsh truth that is our day to day reality? Or is it elementally this simple: it has never been the outer shell that matters, it is the internal life of a character that challenges us. Certainly, Xena and Gabrielle captivate us visually: the dark and the light; exotic and romantic; with grace and prowess they enchant us. Their lives are the stuff of legend and at our core we want a chance to step inside the shoes of a legend and walk around.

The true joy is in the discovery of the greatness inside. To be the people we adore we must embrace their inner life. No outer trappings are necessary. It is the essence of Xena and Gabrielle that should be imitated. Honestly, loyalty, justice, goodness. Each week, regardless of circumstance we confront these issues. Trapped on a cursed ship we learn that love redeems us. When an old friend's life hangs in the balance, the truth must be uncovered and justice in the name of repression and fear is not justice at all. Sometimes in war choices have to be made, but there are not only lesser degrees of evil, there are greater degrees of mercy. True, a day in the life of our heroes bears little resemblance to ours on the surface; we can honestly say that we are rarely confronted with two villages in danger. But in seeing our hero decide with a flip of a dinar "Heads. We kill the giant" aptly demonstrates that divine inspiration rarely appears when you actually need it. Sometimes, you just have to shoot crap. Most of all, we can finally understand that while destiny might be out of our control we know that we are not alone while we fulfill it.

We return each week like the ecstatics that we are, hoping to find some new truth or some inner wisdom to improve ourselves. Like all great scriptures sometimes the stories confuse us. Others bore us. Others enrage us. We always return, though, knowing that it is the sum of the parts that ultimately enriches us. After each lesson we depart, praying silently that the Gospel will never be completed, but knowing that Xena and Gabrielle's wanderings will end someday. When they do, we are comforted that we may always return, to re-read and re-tell the stories that have thrilled, bored, entertained and enlightened us.

So what do we take away with us? A graven image perhaps for 7 dinars, or a copy of one of the gospels for 15 dinars. "Dreamworker" or "A Necessary Evil"? Actually, the main thing everyone left with was a feeling of satisfaction, of community in all its glorious and goofy permutations and mostly, that there is a lot of Xena and Gabrielle in all of us. And let us say: "Amen".