Comedian John Dimes interviews Grave Mood Rings
1. How did you get started?
Producing several hundred zero-budget madcap spoofs of slow-moving Gothic soap operas of the 1970s is not something that happens overnight, though in this case it sort of did. After several years of presenting my Prof. Oddfellow character, who broadcasts a weird sort of occult children's show from a pirate station in a ghost town, I sensed the Muse leaving the building or ghost town. So I hurriedly appealed to a humorist playwright friend, Jonathan Caws-Elwitt, in case he might feel inspired with fresh ideas. One of his brainstorms was to have Prof. Oddfellow's "Penetralia" show unexpectedly pre-empted by a non-existent vampire drama like Dark Shadows. Jonathan suggested it as a one-off bit, but I found it hilarious. By the way, that episode, so expertly crafted, actually turned out to be a fan favorite to this day. The idea of the pre-emption felt funny enough to invest in some cheapish Hallowe'en costumes for the vampiric Viscount, his arch-nemesis the riddling Sphinx, and a groovy Twin Peaks-style doctor. With costumes to hand, and Jonathan having set up the idea of the castle being plagued by haunted doughnuts, it felt prudent to keep going.
2. How did you come by the name?
I wanted to play on the 3 syllables of Dark Shadows. My initial suggestions to Jonathan were, Pallid Smidgins, Dingy Suspicions, Prevailing Tendencies, Dank Climates, Frigid Mournings, and Grave Mood Rings (the last putting a 1970s twist on the Gothic feel). I also liked the double meaning of "grave" and sensed a bit of a story behind it (like a body lying in state with a mood ring, and mourners checking it intermittently to see if the color had changed). Dark Shadows' Barnabas Collins had his signature ring that featured prominently in a hall portrait, and I liked the implication that his was a mood ring displaying black. Jonathan agreed that Grave Mood Rings felt right.
3. How often do you sit down and write a show?
For over a year, Jonathan submitted scripts at least weekly, and now as inspiration strikes each month. I write one to three episodes a week. Though we're both accustomed to collaborations, we actually write Grave Mood Rings episodes independently. I also welcome guest scripts from friends and fans of the show, like Fred Bitter and Christine Tindall, and have produced many several such.
4. One actor, Mike, plays everybody?
Though camera shy and with no theatrical training, my partner Mike rose to the occasion because we don't know any local actors. He volunteered to play all the roles, little realizing just how complicated it would be to act opposite no one, not be able to read cue cards due to eyesight issues, and "do" about a dozen different characters.
5. Explain the preparation process to get the cues just right?
To get the dialogue of the various character takes to line up naturalistically in post-production, we have to very painstakingly find the precise rhythm of each exchange, and Mike has to stick fast to it through multiple takes and multiple characters. As in David Mamet plays and films, there's a mental metronome driving the beats.
6. All of the music compositions: How often do you write?
Being in a band (Neons Gone Mad) and friends with a great many musicians, we've found that Grave Mood Rings has morphed into its own sort of band — informally known as Vike and the Vitchm'calls — featuring not one but about 50 theme tunes to date. I work on music for the show almost daily and pursue collaborations constantly.
7. Do you feel absurdist humor is uniquely queer?
Absurdism, like Grave Mood Rings itself, seeks ways to embrace and ironically run with the world's arbitrariness, meaninglessness, and indifference. Some definitions of absurdism point to a collision between a person and the world's invalidation, while other definitions say the conflict is within oneself. Either definition might feel familiar to a person of queerness. Absurdists tend to make virtues of traits like sincerity, authenticity, and courage, all of which might be said to overlap with the queer outlook. Interestingly, absurdism in novels and plays tends to be communicated implicitly and not explicitly, which again may seem to overlap with how queerness is often addressed in culture.
8. Is there a "deeper meaning" to Grave Mood Rings, more than meets the eye, or is it all simply deliberately silly sketch comedy?
The band Psychotronic Squirt Gun has publicly stated that there must be something deeper going on with the series, and I fear he's right. With years of wallowing in obscurity as outlets like Youtube bury us, we're obviously not going to this much trouble for a measurable audience. It's not for money, since we're unfunded and literally save pennies we find on the street. We technically don't have the free time to spend 7 to 12 hours editing each episode. So, yeah, there has to be a higher purpose, and perhaps it was never really about a vampire at all. But I mustn't say more at this time.
9. Destiny over destination. Predetermination in character. Were there any roadblocks in your success of self, especially as it pertains to you creatively?
I might yet be harboring bitterness over life's incessant obstructions, so I'll resist feel-better clichés about roadblocks being hurdles to gracefully leap over or dead ends offering expansive views. Even my biggest creative successes, like landing HarperCollins to publish my dictionary of one-letter words, have met with wrenches in the works. My philosophy has always followed my magic teacher Eugene Burger's great secret behind how to perform any illusion you can imagine: "Just do it anyway." While we aspire to spiritual mastership over the universe, we can in the meantime find a way to make elephants seem to dematerialize on stage, cobbling together our demo reels as we go. If it's true, as the Buddhists and physicists say, that so-called reality is an illusion or simulation, then wouldn't the experience of Imposter Syndrome be closer to wellness than disease? An attitude of perversity seems key: maybe nobody will see what I made, so make another; I can't afford that prop, so rewrite the script to have the prop be off-camera; there's no time for this, so stall everything else that's more important and "just do it anyway." Perhaps an absurdist philosophy is requisite.