'American Experience' confines rather than frees Walt Whitman

Having just done a lovely job on the little story of a lost Eskimo 100 years ago, "American Experience" now turns its attention to a major figure, Walt Whitman, the nation's greatest poet, its original "Spontaneous Me" and its definitive master of the "barbaric yawp." Yet, while one would expect the subject to be right in the wheelhouse of the PBS series, this Whitman fan can't help feeling a little disappointed by the results.

Debuting at 9 p.m. Monday on WTTW Channel 11, "Walt Whitman" casts the poet first as a historical figure and only then as a literary figure. This is where "American Experience" differs from "American Masters," in that it argues, not quite convincingly, that Whitman based his career on an attempt to unify the nation before the Civil War.

The man who wrote "Song of Myself" was certainly no wallflower, but it defies belief to think that Whitman had any such Quixotic notions about what exactly his magnum opus, "Leaves of Grass," would achieve. Sorry, but I can't accept that in anything but his most fantastic dreams Whitman expected his poems to bind the wounds of a nation already divided by slavery. What seems clear, however, is that he was after a uniquely American style. "The proof of a poet is that his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it," he wrote in the introduction to the original "Leaves of Grass" in 1855.

That he achieved -- on both sides of the equation. Whitman's openness to any and all things -- experiences, thoughts, beliefs, stylistic flourishes -- is what makes his poetry so American. In its acceptance it's almost as if it skips modernism, with its dreadful alienation, and goes straight to postmodernism. Not only is there no Jack Kerouac without Whitman, there's no Elvis Presley. Whitman defined and put into words what separated Americans from Europeans -- and what, in our best moments and aspirations, continues to distinguish us.

The closest "American Experience" comes to capturing that is in the comments of poet laureate Billy Collins: "Here was the first truly American poet who broke out of the form of formal poetry. 'Leaves of Grass' is a poem without boundaries so that everything can flood into it -- people, professions, landscape, memories, engineering, water, children, Native Americans. There's no boundary keeping anything out."

Yet, in trying to fit Whitman into the arc of American history, especially where the Civil War is concerned, this two-hour documentary winds up confining him, limiting his scope and influence.

Of course, the man who wrote, "Unscrew the locks from the doors. Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs," refuses to be confined. There's plenty of free sex, and the PBS profile does a generally admirable job of addressing Whitman's sexuality -- whether it be homosexual or bisexual or, perhaps most accurately, omnisexual -- at face value. (Although there's really no need for the love-scene re-enactments; not to sound like a prude, but the words alone will suffice, thank you very much.)

It also does a fine job of sketching the known fragments of his biography. Whitman adopted a carefree, open attitude toward life in part as a response to the bitter fatalism of his father. And, after trekking from New York to Fredericksburg to find his brother, injured in the Civil War, he was so struck by the plight of the wounded he moved to Washington, D.C., where he acted more or less as volunteer nurse and angel of mercy in army hospitals.

Best of all, it unites Whitman's times with our times -- and with all times -- by juxtaposing Civil War casualties with Iraq amputees and the New York City of the mid-19th century with the New York City of today (most tellingly in the poem "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry"). As usual, it also draws on exceptional vocal talents to flesh out the words, as J.K. Simmons narrates and Chris Cooper reads passages from Whitman.

Yet it only touches on the literary controversy over Whitman's own endless revisions of "Leaves of Grass," culminating in the so-called "deathbed" edition of 1891. "The dirtiest book in all the world is the expurgated book," Whitman says, but "American Experience" never connects that with his own editing. Many have suggested Whitman damaged rather than improved his early poems over the years, and Stephen Mitchell has even put out a rival version of "Song of Myself," keeping the best of the revisions and losing the worst. "American Experience" never gets into that, perhaps because it's too much "inside baseball" in the literary field.

So maybe, ironically, Whitman turns out to be a subject so vast -- he boasted of containing multitudes, after all -- not even "American Experience" can grasp it. "Walt Whitman" is recommended as a PBS special, but as a profile of our definitive national poet excuse me if I consider it something less than celebrated.

In the air

'Essential' Mitchum

Turner Classic Movies' series "The Essentials" is true to its name at 7 p.m. Saturday, when it presents "The Night of the Hunter." The one and only film directed by Charles Laughton is an exquisite exercise in atmosphere starring Robert Mitchum as a psychotic ex-con masquerading as a pastor to track down a bundle of loot from a bank heist.

Symphonython

Classical WFMT 98.7-FM turns its airwaves over to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra for its annual Symphonython fundraiser from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. Sunday. The CSO performs from 1 to 3 p.m.

Indy records & radio

Loyola's WLUW 88.7-FM is changing its community format, but the annual Record Fair fundraiser now benefiting the Chicago Independent Radio Project continues for its sixth straight year from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Saturday and 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sunday at the Pulaski Park Fieldhouse, 1419 W. Blackhawk, Chicago. Admission is $7, $5 with an ad or flier, $25 for a presale at 8 a.m. Saturday.

Waste Watcher's choice

Best of Hest

Turner Classic Movies honors the late Charlton Heston with a film fest tonight, peaking with "Ben-Hur" at 8. Heston's at his hammy, oversized best, and the chariot race is justifiably famous.