I am hardly jeopardising myself by divulging this information. I have written stuff a lot worse than this in the past. On this blog I have written about mad personal shit on this blog in excruciating detail.
I am going to type out some of my personal fantasies. 'Keep it to yourself!' I hear you say! Well, the thing is I find that I need to expurgate a lot of thoughts that circulate round my brain. I prattle a lot about these things to those close to me. We are social creatures, so it's only natural to do so.
********
Fantasy 1: The Imaginary Girlfriend
It's really sad that, aged 26, I've never had a girlfriend. It's really sad that, aged 26, I don't even know what procedure to follow to acquire one. What is even sadder is that I occasionally fantasise about the ideal girlfriend.
My fantasy woman has the following characteristics:
- Red hair.
- Grey eyes.
- She is really tall.
- She only wears black clothing.
- She has a PHD in English literature. (Her thesis was about Charlotte Bronte.)
- She is a world-renowned and really accomplished classical pianist. She often goes on world tours. She specialises in modern classical and baroque music. (She plays a handful of Romantic composers, too.)
- She's really kinky. She likes to have sex whilst bashing out the chord off the second movement of Rite of Spring again and again.
Fantasy 2: Living in a Galleon
This fantasy involves living in a galleon. I have a room with a desk in it. I write novels there on a manual typewriter. I get pissed on red wine and often lie pissed next to the mast. An exotic woman lives with me. She's also very kinky.
Fantasy 3: Stay at home
In this fantasy, I simply stay at home with mummy & daddy. I get cooked for etc. I get £200 deposited into my bank account every month. I get a blowjob every day from a bimbo so as to ease off all sexual frustrations. The rest of the time I get to read, write etc.
Fantasy 4: I win the Booker prize
Now this is ridiculous, isn't it?! In this fantasy, all the novels that I write get published. I get interviewed by journalists. The most ridiculous thing about this fantasy is that I would have to write something readable. Who would want to read the esoteric crap that I write?
Fantasy 5: I become leader of the Labour party
Now bear with me here. I get elected leader of the Labour party, even though people compare me with previous disastrous leaders (Foot, Kinnock, Miliband and Corbyn). I make a pledge to 'make the Labour party an electoral force again.' I am pathologically nervous around journalists and shy away from the spotlight. I disappear when I should be making crucial media interventions. I draw up a series of policies that get called 'a dreary return to Milibandism.' I spend most of my time trying to appease warring factions in the party. I spend an inordinate amount of time appeasing the Blairites. The grass root membership leaves. I pontificate endlessly about 'pragmatic socialism.' I get pilloried by the press. I lose the general election in a spectacular fashion.
Fantasy 6: I become a football manager
I get a Eufa licence (or whatever it's called) even though I never played professional football (or even at an amateur level!). I take over my crappy little team - the fourth tier team Fernandez Vial. We climb up to the first tier over a period of five years. I stay in the first tier with them for two more years. In my final year I manage to finish in a 4th placed position. I attract the attention of Colo-Colo (the biggest Chilean team), even though I previously make the statement that I would never manage for them. The Vial supporters call me 'Judas' despite everything that I did for them. I win a couple of Chilean titles and have a couple of good runs in the Copa Libertadores. I become manager of the Chile national side and I manage to reach the semi-finals of the world cup with them.
Fantasy 7: I live in a castle
I live in a giant castle, placed on the crest of a hill overlooking a small town. The local community say 'he's a bit mad, y'know?' I spend a long time brooding. I have a cellar stocked with a lot of red wine. Every week a prostitute comes over to have sex with me (to ease off sexual frustrations).
Monday, 1 August 2016
Tuesday, 26 April 2016
Sunday, 6 March 2016
Desert island discs
I started thinking about my choices for this program recently. I recall that I did the exact same post a number of years ago, but I have changed my choices since then. This is a very indulgent thing to do - but this is my blog, where anything goes, so who cares?
The premise of this program is that you choose eight pieces of music, one book and one luxury item to take with you to a desert island.
1. Ich Ruf zu dir Herr Jesu Christ (Piano Version) - J. S. Bach
Bach has now become my favourite composer. I like his music very much because 1) It has a mystical quality that's very similar to a lot of religious art - i.e. cathedrals and Renaissance painting - where your senses are disoriented and you feel overcome by something larger than yourself. 2) The counterpoint, where several layers of music play at the same time, is especially interesting to listen to. It's fascinating to listen how the musical voices interact with one another and how they are resolved. 3) The seemingly endless treasures you encounter the further you dig into his body of work. He was an extremely prolific composer, yet very little of what he wrote is uninteresting to me.
Bach never wrote music for the piano - it didn't exist during his lifetime. He wrote for the harpsichord instead. I especially like the way a lot of his pieces sound on the piano. My favourite of these arrangements would be 'Ich Ruf zu dir Herr Jesu Christ.' I like the performance by Alfred Brendel, a brilliant pianist, the most.
2. 'Death and the Maiden' String Quartet No. 14 in D Minor by Franz Schubert
I like Schubert for the same reason that many people listen to music - he writes beautiful melodies and his music is very pleasant to listen to. I am especially fond of string quartets as a whole and this is quite likely the most well-known quartet piece ever written. It is a 'programmatic' piece, meaning that it has an accompanying story attached to it.
Schubert was one of the early 'Romantic' composers. To put it simply, the movement in music was largely interested in 'emotion.' This piece does indeed stir the emotions quite a lot. As the piece progresses, it becomes more exalted. Schubert wrote astonishingly beautiful melodies, but it's also very interesting to hear how he harmonises the voices.
3. String Quartet No. 4 by Bela Bartok
Bartok is my favourite composer after Bach. Although his music is very dissonant, it's still melodic and it is tonal - though it does shift across many keys during the course of a single piece. What I like about modern music is that I do hear melody in a lot of it, but it's a lot more angular. There is a lot of strangeness and beauty to that. Bartok drew from Hungarian folk melodies and transformed them into visceral modern classical pieces. In this piece, the five movements 'mirror' each other. The first and fifth movements are related, the second and fourth movments are related and the third movement is a quiet interlude. Like a lot of other modern music, Bartok was interested in ryhthm. In this piece, the melodies are played almost rhythmically.
4. Clocks and Clouds by Gyorgy Ligeti
Post-war music was considerably more abstract than the music that preceded it. Ligeti, another Hungarian, is one of the more approachable ones. His music employed 'micropolyphony,' which involved many individual voices playing simultaneously. This created large tone clusters, a large homegenous sound constituting many individual parts.
This piece is particularly impressive. Unlike a lot of other modern music, it sounds somewhat mellifluent. It is dream-like and strange. It has a disorienting effect, much in the same way that a lot of Bach's music affects my senses. I am fond of getting drunk whilst listening to music - Ligeti is one of my main choices for such occasions, alongside Bach.
5. Autumn's Child by Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band
I have a strong emotional attachment to Beefheart's music. I have been listening to his stuff for twelve years now. This song is more 'straightforward' than a lot of his other stuff. It's somewhat mawkish, even. I still find the 4/4 section very moving - and very evocative. You have Beefheart's vocal about a past encounter, the chorus sings about 'go back four years' ago and finally you have the eerie theremin to boot. This being Beefheart, the more 'striaght' sections get interrupted by unusual time signatures. This really is a truly overpowering song.
6. British Grenadiers - Gross Chapel by The Fall
The Fall are my favourite rock act, alongside Beefheart. Whereas a lot of their output is somewhat blithe, this track is a lot darker. I have always thought that the album this is from, Bend Sinister, is one of their best and very underrated. The Fall are from the post-punk era. This meant that consumers who were not technically proficient realised that they could make music. This led to very unorthodox and interesting results. These bands were listening to a lot of interesting bands, such as Beefheart. Mark E. Smith hardly ever sings; he recites. His lyrics are very abstract and very embittered. On paper, they are baffling, but they are mesmerising on record.
7. Naima by John Coltrane
Jazz is easily one of my favourite genres - it's possibly my favourite genre alongside classical. I fondly remember being a lazy 15-year-old who would sit in his room all day listening to jazz records. I was a terrible student back then!
'Naima' is such a wonderful tune. This tune is just so life-affirming and soothing. I feel infinitely better every time I give it another spin. Coltrane's virtuosic technique takes me to the most wonderful places.
8. Flamenco Sketches by Miles Davis
Everything about the record Kind of Blue is just perfect. Every note is in the right place. There are so many tracks I could choose from Davis' discography, but I would have to go for this one. Again, it's a very soothing and uplifiting piece. I love how Miles' stamp is firmly indented in all of his music, even the cheesy 80s synth stuff.
This is the first jazz record I listened to. It's a record a lot of people start with - it's a great portal. Finally, I'll just end by saying how much I regretted leaving Ornette Coleman's 'Lonely Woman' out from this list.
Book: Fictions - Jorge Luis Borges
I thought that I would chose a book that I can read many times. Borges' stories are something you keep returning to and something that you find surprising every time you re-read. His stories are so intertextual that, in many ways, you are familarising yourself with literature culled from many centuries. So this is more than one book in many ways.
Luxury item: A typewriter with a lifetime supply of ribbons and paper.
I would want to be able to write in this island. Typewriters are cumbersome, but then computers are too distracting. I prefer to type when writing stuff - I am not a pen-and-paper person.
The premise of this program is that you choose eight pieces of music, one book and one luxury item to take with you to a desert island.
1. Ich Ruf zu dir Herr Jesu Christ (Piano Version) - J. S. Bach
Bach has now become my favourite composer. I like his music very much because 1) It has a mystical quality that's very similar to a lot of religious art - i.e. cathedrals and Renaissance painting - where your senses are disoriented and you feel overcome by something larger than yourself. 2) The counterpoint, where several layers of music play at the same time, is especially interesting to listen to. It's fascinating to listen how the musical voices interact with one another and how they are resolved. 3) The seemingly endless treasures you encounter the further you dig into his body of work. He was an extremely prolific composer, yet very little of what he wrote is uninteresting to me.
Bach never wrote music for the piano - it didn't exist during his lifetime. He wrote for the harpsichord instead. I especially like the way a lot of his pieces sound on the piano. My favourite of these arrangements would be 'Ich Ruf zu dir Herr Jesu Christ.' I like the performance by Alfred Brendel, a brilliant pianist, the most.
2. 'Death and the Maiden' String Quartet No. 14 in D Minor by Franz Schubert
I like Schubert for the same reason that many people listen to music - he writes beautiful melodies and his music is very pleasant to listen to. I am especially fond of string quartets as a whole and this is quite likely the most well-known quartet piece ever written. It is a 'programmatic' piece, meaning that it has an accompanying story attached to it.
Schubert was one of the early 'Romantic' composers. To put it simply, the movement in music was largely interested in 'emotion.' This piece does indeed stir the emotions quite a lot. As the piece progresses, it becomes more exalted. Schubert wrote astonishingly beautiful melodies, but it's also very interesting to hear how he harmonises the voices.
3. String Quartet No. 4 by Bela Bartok
Bartok is my favourite composer after Bach. Although his music is very dissonant, it's still melodic and it is tonal - though it does shift across many keys during the course of a single piece. What I like about modern music is that I do hear melody in a lot of it, but it's a lot more angular. There is a lot of strangeness and beauty to that. Bartok drew from Hungarian folk melodies and transformed them into visceral modern classical pieces. In this piece, the five movements 'mirror' each other. The first and fifth movements are related, the second and fourth movments are related and the third movement is a quiet interlude. Like a lot of other modern music, Bartok was interested in ryhthm. In this piece, the melodies are played almost rhythmically.
4. Clocks and Clouds by Gyorgy Ligeti
Post-war music was considerably more abstract than the music that preceded it. Ligeti, another Hungarian, is one of the more approachable ones. His music employed 'micropolyphony,' which involved many individual voices playing simultaneously. This created large tone clusters, a large homegenous sound constituting many individual parts.
This piece is particularly impressive. Unlike a lot of other modern music, it sounds somewhat mellifluent. It is dream-like and strange. It has a disorienting effect, much in the same way that a lot of Bach's music affects my senses. I am fond of getting drunk whilst listening to music - Ligeti is one of my main choices for such occasions, alongside Bach.
5. Autumn's Child by Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band
I have a strong emotional attachment to Beefheart's music. I have been listening to his stuff for twelve years now. This song is more 'straightforward' than a lot of his other stuff. It's somewhat mawkish, even. I still find the 4/4 section very moving - and very evocative. You have Beefheart's vocal about a past encounter, the chorus sings about 'go back four years' ago and finally you have the eerie theremin to boot. This being Beefheart, the more 'striaght' sections get interrupted by unusual time signatures. This really is a truly overpowering song.
6. British Grenadiers - Gross Chapel by The Fall
The Fall are my favourite rock act, alongside Beefheart. Whereas a lot of their output is somewhat blithe, this track is a lot darker. I have always thought that the album this is from, Bend Sinister, is one of their best and very underrated. The Fall are from the post-punk era. This meant that consumers who were not technically proficient realised that they could make music. This led to very unorthodox and interesting results. These bands were listening to a lot of interesting bands, such as Beefheart. Mark E. Smith hardly ever sings; he recites. His lyrics are very abstract and very embittered. On paper, they are baffling, but they are mesmerising on record.
7. Naima by John Coltrane
Jazz is easily one of my favourite genres - it's possibly my favourite genre alongside classical. I fondly remember being a lazy 15-year-old who would sit in his room all day listening to jazz records. I was a terrible student back then!
'Naima' is such a wonderful tune. This tune is just so life-affirming and soothing. I feel infinitely better every time I give it another spin. Coltrane's virtuosic technique takes me to the most wonderful places.
8. Flamenco Sketches by Miles Davis
Everything about the record Kind of Blue is just perfect. Every note is in the right place. There are so many tracks I could choose from Davis' discography, but I would have to go for this one. Again, it's a very soothing and uplifiting piece. I love how Miles' stamp is firmly indented in all of his music, even the cheesy 80s synth stuff.
This is the first jazz record I listened to. It's a record a lot of people start with - it's a great portal. Finally, I'll just end by saying how much I regretted leaving Ornette Coleman's 'Lonely Woman' out from this list.
Book: Fictions - Jorge Luis Borges
I thought that I would chose a book that I can read many times. Borges' stories are something you keep returning to and something that you find surprising every time you re-read. His stories are so intertextual that, in many ways, you are familarising yourself with literature culled from many centuries. So this is more than one book in many ways.
Luxury item: A typewriter with a lifetime supply of ribbons and paper.
I would want to be able to write in this island. Typewriters are cumbersome, but then computers are too distracting. I prefer to type when writing stuff - I am not a pen-and-paper person.
Thursday, 11 February 2016
Thoughts on David Cronenberg
Cronenberg is a director who has always fascinated me. He is a 'director of ideas' if there ever was one. He often draws explicitly from literary sources. His films have striking, and often lurid, imagery. His films have become subtler and more sophisticated over the years. I will go through a few of his films and offer a few perfunctory notes.
The recurring theme that crops up in Cronenberg's film is the body and, more specifically, the relationship between mind/body and technology. This theme has been explored both in his early 'horror' film as well as his recent arthouse and thriller films. Cronenberg is interested in the way in which our bodily functions and our mental perception are altered by putatively benign technological developments. Most memorably to most people, this results in horrendous bodily deformations. James Wood memorably asserts at one stage in Videodrome, 'Long live the new flesh!' Cronenberg is also interested in pathologies and the way in which these technologies derange his characters. Several of his films could be seen as accounts of psychotic episodes. Still, Cronenberg is no luddite. He even embraces the notion that humans can defy natural selection and take control of nature.
Cronenberg is a Cartesian dualist. This means that the believes in the existence of both mind and matter. He sees the body as being concretely apart from the mind. In this sense, when the body has a transformation, the mind is independent from it. This is explored in Shivers, an example of a chemical experiment gone wrong. This results in the growth of parasites that tear through the bodies of its victims. The film is set in a large building complex. Cronenberg has always been interested in psychology, even in these early horror films. The film confines itself to the large building complex and documents the mental collapse of its inhabitants. The growth of the parasites ultimately degrades the mental state of the characters. The film is also somewhat critical of the permissive society at the time, with the phallic parasites in many ways representing STDs.
This mind/body dualism is similarly explored in The Brood. The protagonist's wife is institutionalised in a building that resembles a cult rather than a psychiatric unit. Bedeviled dwarf children spawn out of a lurid new body part growing out of her stomach. These dwarfs wreak havoc and kill several of the protagonist's relatives. Made at a time in which is own marriage was in turmoil, the dwarfs are symbolic of the wife's psychological manipulation. Out of all his early horror films, this is the one which is most interested in character development.
My favourite Cronenberg film, and the most characteristic of his entire career, is Videodrome. It is inspired by Marshall McCluhan's prescription that 'the medium is the message.' It explores the potential that audiovisual media has to corrupt has. The lead character is the purveyor of a 'video nasty' TV cable show, where he airs lurid pornography videos. Once he sees a video called 'Videodrome,' he develops a brain tumor that triggers a bizarre psychotic episode. Interestingly, there's a shelter home for homeless people where they can watch television. People who are deprived from television need to be exposed to it for the sake of their own sanity. At one point it is called 'the retina of the mind's eye.' Yet the mass proliferation of pornography and violence seems to have a sinister impact on the minds of its consumers, as it seems to harbour the onset of psychosis.
The theme of sinister technology is explored in Videodrome. However, Cronenberg also explores the theme of sinister scientists in both The Fly and Dead Ringers. In The Fly, a scientist messianically develops a technological invention that will lead to progress. However, it malfunctions and, instead of transporting inanimate objects, he gradually metamorphoses into a fly. An attempt to defy the laws of physics backfires and, more tragically than Frankenstein, the scientist turns into a hideous insect. Interestingly, as a scientist, he views his transformation with precision and wry detachment. He implicates his friends and close relatives and exposes them to danger. Dead Ringers explores the way in which trust is assigned to doctors and the ways in which this can be broken. Two twin gynecologists, both roles played deftly by Jeremy Irons, develop a sexual attraction to a patient. The film explores the notion of synergy. One twin is more confident whereas the other one is shy. Both are chronically dependent on one another. The film explores sexual inexperience and the way in which formidable, academic and socially awkward men feel entitled to the pleasure of women. The twins try to overcome the same sets of problems as a pair. The film ends with a lurid experiment in which one twin disembowels the other with bizarre gynecological instruments to 'end the Siamese twins' and to hence gain a sense of autonomy.
Cronenberg decided to adapt William Burroughs' 'unfilmable' novel Naked Lunch. Avoiding a literal adaptation, the film actually comes off as an innovative biopic. It is a particularly interesting attempt to understand the process of literary creation. William Burroughs is particular notable for his heroin addiction as well as his tumultuous personal life, having accidentally shot his wife in a game of 'William Tell.' The film binds all these elements together alongside elements from Burroughs' novels and an imaginary rendering of the gestation of Naked Lunch. The technological apparatus of interest here is the typewriter, which frequently morphs into a cockroach. The typewriter in this film is a central force of literary creation, as it often interacts with Burroughs in an oft-like humorous manner. The film is interesting in the way it depicts Burroughs' strong anti-authoritarian sentiments in the 'real life' sequences. Meanwhile 'Interzone,' a parallel reality where misfits congregate, is inspirational and where all of the writing of the book takes place. Burroughs' vision foreshadowed the internet and it is clear why Cronenberg was intrigued by it.
Another 'difficult book' that Cronenberg adapted soon after was J. G. Ballard's Crash. Like Burroughs' novel, it is notable for being subversive and controversial. The novel is very Cronenbergian, as it explores the relationship between man and technology and the proliferation of sex and violence in mass media. The film loses the novel's somewhat poetic tone and goes for a much colder and more clinical approach. The characters have no affection for one another. The gruesome scenes of sexual violence are approached as quasi-scientific experiments. The lead character Vaughn leads 'car crash' seminars. The film was lambasted for being amoral and it was banned in parts of the UK. Ballard defended it as a 'moral' work. What struck me when I saw it recently is that it is morally ambivalent. When the lead character, Ballard, sticks his dick into gory places, he seems to be all the better for it. The film also drops much of the novel's dialogue and focuses on very stylised sex scenes. The sex scene emerges as a plot device that centres the film. As such, it can lead one to accuse it as being nothing more than a porno.
eXistenZ explored our relationship with interactive technologies, such as video games and the internet. The film has a very 'meta' ending whereby these technologies have such a corrupting effect that we can no longer differentiate reality from fantasy. These fantasy realms, which appear as 'real' as the natural world, allow a newfound freedom in that they allow the subjects to control the outcome of causality. Interestingly, 'isten' is a Hungarian word for 'God,' which could be interpreted as symbolic of the powers conferred to man by new technologies.
A History of Violence is a very interesting film in that it explores the notion of identity in the form of a thriller. Cronenberg's previous film, Spider, was about a schizophrenic and hence about a film in which choice is confused. Violence is the first of a series of films which are far more realistic. The lead character chooses a new identity for himself following a career as a gangster. These gangsters visit him and his wife and the local community soon learn about his past life. Identity here is seen as something which is willed. Interestingly, the film was a comic book adaptation, a medium which has explored the notion of willed identity with the notion of superheroes. Although the character leads a domesticated life, his past 'violent' life remains latent. It re-emerges once he confronts the gangsters. The self is hence seen as something transient and the 'unitary' self is seen as an artificial construct. The film is interested in Dariwinian theory. The character has had to resort to violence in his past life in order to procreate and to later lead a stable existence.
Cosmopolis was an adaptation of a Don DeLillo novel. I was interested in the novel as way in which it explored a breakdown in communications. The dialogue is stilted and Beckettian. The characters are unable to talk to one another or show any affection. The lead character is a billionaire who is utterly insulated from the outer world. His limousine is completely sheltered from the outer world. Outside protests erupt about Wall Street whilst he his limousine shields the noise. The characters often speak using grand aphorisms about the state of capitalism. The billionaire is reckless. He bring about a financial crisis and voluntarily seeks his own death. The most powerful person in the world is shown to be so self-absorbed that he does not even notice his own surroundings. He only cares about getting a haircut, sex and, ultimately, seeking his own death.
When Maps to the Stars came out, I felt that most people focused too much on it as being a work of satire. I felt as if, once more, Cronenberg was interested in Hollywood from a psychiatric standpoint. Hollywood in the film is a microcosm. The characters in the film are incestual. I felt that Cronenberg wasn't satirising Hollywood for being insular. I felt as it if he was interested in exploring the pathologies of narcissists. The film is less interested in the socioeconomic inequities of the system; it is more interested in exploring the psychosis of people who live in a microcosm detached from the real world. This is a similarity it shares with Cosmopolis. That film is less interested in expounding economic arguments as it is in exploring the self-absorption of a coldly cerebral billionaire.
The recurring theme that crops up in Cronenberg's film is the body and, more specifically, the relationship between mind/body and technology. This theme has been explored both in his early 'horror' film as well as his recent arthouse and thriller films. Cronenberg is interested in the way in which our bodily functions and our mental perception are altered by putatively benign technological developments. Most memorably to most people, this results in horrendous bodily deformations. James Wood memorably asserts at one stage in Videodrome, 'Long live the new flesh!' Cronenberg is also interested in pathologies and the way in which these technologies derange his characters. Several of his films could be seen as accounts of psychotic episodes. Still, Cronenberg is no luddite. He even embraces the notion that humans can defy natural selection and take control of nature.
Cronenberg is a Cartesian dualist. This means that the believes in the existence of both mind and matter. He sees the body as being concretely apart from the mind. In this sense, when the body has a transformation, the mind is independent from it. This is explored in Shivers, an example of a chemical experiment gone wrong. This results in the growth of parasites that tear through the bodies of its victims. The film is set in a large building complex. Cronenberg has always been interested in psychology, even in these early horror films. The film confines itself to the large building complex and documents the mental collapse of its inhabitants. The growth of the parasites ultimately degrades the mental state of the characters. The film is also somewhat critical of the permissive society at the time, with the phallic parasites in many ways representing STDs.
This mind/body dualism is similarly explored in The Brood. The protagonist's wife is institutionalised in a building that resembles a cult rather than a psychiatric unit. Bedeviled dwarf children spawn out of a lurid new body part growing out of her stomach. These dwarfs wreak havoc and kill several of the protagonist's relatives. Made at a time in which is own marriage was in turmoil, the dwarfs are symbolic of the wife's psychological manipulation. Out of all his early horror films, this is the one which is most interested in character development.
My favourite Cronenberg film, and the most characteristic of his entire career, is Videodrome. It is inspired by Marshall McCluhan's prescription that 'the medium is the message.' It explores the potential that audiovisual media has to corrupt has. The lead character is the purveyor of a 'video nasty' TV cable show, where he airs lurid pornography videos. Once he sees a video called 'Videodrome,' he develops a brain tumor that triggers a bizarre psychotic episode. Interestingly, there's a shelter home for homeless people where they can watch television. People who are deprived from television need to be exposed to it for the sake of their own sanity. At one point it is called 'the retina of the mind's eye.' Yet the mass proliferation of pornography and violence seems to have a sinister impact on the minds of its consumers, as it seems to harbour the onset of psychosis.
Videodrome
The theme of sinister technology is explored in Videodrome. However, Cronenberg also explores the theme of sinister scientists in both The Fly and Dead Ringers. In The Fly, a scientist messianically develops a technological invention that will lead to progress. However, it malfunctions and, instead of transporting inanimate objects, he gradually metamorphoses into a fly. An attempt to defy the laws of physics backfires and, more tragically than Frankenstein, the scientist turns into a hideous insect. Interestingly, as a scientist, he views his transformation with precision and wry detachment. He implicates his friends and close relatives and exposes them to danger. Dead Ringers explores the way in which trust is assigned to doctors and the ways in which this can be broken. Two twin gynecologists, both roles played deftly by Jeremy Irons, develop a sexual attraction to a patient. The film explores the notion of synergy. One twin is more confident whereas the other one is shy. Both are chronically dependent on one another. The film explores sexual inexperience and the way in which formidable, academic and socially awkward men feel entitled to the pleasure of women. The twins try to overcome the same sets of problems as a pair. The film ends with a lurid experiment in which one twin disembowels the other with bizarre gynecological instruments to 'end the Siamese twins' and to hence gain a sense of autonomy.
Cronenberg decided to adapt William Burroughs' 'unfilmable' novel Naked Lunch. Avoiding a literal adaptation, the film actually comes off as an innovative biopic. It is a particularly interesting attempt to understand the process of literary creation. William Burroughs is particular notable for his heroin addiction as well as his tumultuous personal life, having accidentally shot his wife in a game of 'William Tell.' The film binds all these elements together alongside elements from Burroughs' novels and an imaginary rendering of the gestation of Naked Lunch. The technological apparatus of interest here is the typewriter, which frequently morphs into a cockroach. The typewriter in this film is a central force of literary creation, as it often interacts with Burroughs in an oft-like humorous manner. The film is interesting in the way it depicts Burroughs' strong anti-authoritarian sentiments in the 'real life' sequences. Meanwhile 'Interzone,' a parallel reality where misfits congregate, is inspirational and where all of the writing of the book takes place. Burroughs' vision foreshadowed the internet and it is clear why Cronenberg was intrigued by it.
Naked Lunch
eXistenZ explored our relationship with interactive technologies, such as video games and the internet. The film has a very 'meta' ending whereby these technologies have such a corrupting effect that we can no longer differentiate reality from fantasy. These fantasy realms, which appear as 'real' as the natural world, allow a newfound freedom in that they allow the subjects to control the outcome of causality. Interestingly, 'isten' is a Hungarian word for 'God,' which could be interpreted as symbolic of the powers conferred to man by new technologies.
A History of Violence is a very interesting film in that it explores the notion of identity in the form of a thriller. Cronenberg's previous film, Spider, was about a schizophrenic and hence about a film in which choice is confused. Violence is the first of a series of films which are far more realistic. The lead character chooses a new identity for himself following a career as a gangster. These gangsters visit him and his wife and the local community soon learn about his past life. Identity here is seen as something which is willed. Interestingly, the film was a comic book adaptation, a medium which has explored the notion of willed identity with the notion of superheroes. Although the character leads a domesticated life, his past 'violent' life remains latent. It re-emerges once he confronts the gangsters. The self is hence seen as something transient and the 'unitary' self is seen as an artificial construct. The film is interested in Dariwinian theory. The character has had to resort to violence in his past life in order to procreate and to later lead a stable existence.
Cosmopolis was an adaptation of a Don DeLillo novel. I was interested in the novel as way in which it explored a breakdown in communications. The dialogue is stilted and Beckettian. The characters are unable to talk to one another or show any affection. The lead character is a billionaire who is utterly insulated from the outer world. His limousine is completely sheltered from the outer world. Outside protests erupt about Wall Street whilst he his limousine shields the noise. The characters often speak using grand aphorisms about the state of capitalism. The billionaire is reckless. He bring about a financial crisis and voluntarily seeks his own death. The most powerful person in the world is shown to be so self-absorbed that he does not even notice his own surroundings. He only cares about getting a haircut, sex and, ultimately, seeking his own death.
History of Violence
When Maps to the Stars came out, I felt that most people focused too much on it as being a work of satire. I felt as if, once more, Cronenberg was interested in Hollywood from a psychiatric standpoint. Hollywood in the film is a microcosm. The characters in the film are incestual. I felt that Cronenberg wasn't satirising Hollywood for being insular. I felt as it if he was interested in exploring the pathologies of narcissists. The film is less interested in the socioeconomic inequities of the system; it is more interested in exploring the psychosis of people who live in a microcosm detached from the real world. This is a similarity it shares with Cosmopolis. That film is less interested in expounding economic arguments as it is in exploring the self-absorption of a coldly cerebral billionaire.
Monday, 25 January 2016
Ahoy Facebook #2
Bits and pieces. Left-overs. Call it what you like.
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What good is intellectual masturbation? What's the point in analysing all of the complex proxy wars in the middle east to death when none of this intellectual masturbation/theorising will translate into concrete policies which will help the poor people over there? What's the point in reading so much philosophy when, millennia after Socrates and all these people, no-one is altogether clear what the real use of it is? What's the point in me writing a strange and complex novel that no-one will care to read? Aiiii.... I'm useless and all of my interests are useless and nothing I will do will contribute one jot to the well-being and welfare of others.
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I regret not listening to as much jazz as I used to. Something I've especially neglected recently is the more avant-ish variety. The past two/three years I've been gorging myself on the earliest stuff - everything starting from 1920s New Orleans jazz, ragtime etc. to big band 50s swing. I'm glad I did, because I found to my delight I found that a lot of that stuff is really good. I'm trying to listen to more freestyle/avant variety jazz more often now. What I find about most free improv is that you really have to be there in concert. On record, it's largely forgettable, meandering and can even be a bit of a headache. What I find is that there is a new breed of avant/free improv music which tries to integrate more tonal stuff, harmonies, actual chords etc. into the music. When I'm in Canterbury, I go every week to a concert of free music called 'Free Range' and I find most of the music there to be of interest. By inserting more 'musical' elements into the soundscapes, does it cease to be as 'free'? All that rigid terminology is such utter nonsense. I always thought that the ethos of free jazz was the freedom to play whatever one wanted, whether it meant playing in key or out of key, a ballad or a noisy clump of random notes. If hardcore free improv says 'no, you can't play in key or any chord - the whole point is that this is a process where we forget how to play in a proper manner' - that's just utter silliness. Completely childish dogma. I recently discovered Mary Halvorson and I really like her stuff. She is quite versatile on the guitar and has a unique style. What I like about her stuff is that it embodies the spirit of free jazz I mentioned above. She is keen to try anything of interest in any context. What you find with younger generations is also a tendency to play in 'punk' contexts and to infuse it with jazz. Her stuff also always has technique. When she plays in a looser style, there is always a sense of structure, too. I particularly like this track.
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What good is intellectual masturbation? What's the point in analysing all of the complex proxy wars in the middle east to death when none of this intellectual masturbation/theorising will translate into concrete policies which will help the poor people over there? What's the point in reading so much philosophy when, millennia after Socrates and all these people, no-one is altogether clear what the real use of it is? What's the point in me writing a strange and complex novel that no-one will care to read? Aiiii.... I'm useless and all of my interests are useless and nothing I will do will contribute one jot to the well-being and welfare of others.
**********************
I regret not listening to as much jazz as I used to. Something I've especially neglected recently is the more avant-ish variety. The past two/three years I've been gorging myself on the earliest stuff - everything starting from 1920s New Orleans jazz, ragtime etc. to big band 50s swing. I'm glad I did, because I found to my delight I found that a lot of that stuff is really good. I'm trying to listen to more freestyle/avant variety jazz more often now. What I find about most free improv is that you really have to be there in concert. On record, it's largely forgettable, meandering and can even be a bit of a headache. What I find is that there is a new breed of avant/free improv music which tries to integrate more tonal stuff, harmonies, actual chords etc. into the music. When I'm in Canterbury, I go every week to a concert of free music called 'Free Range' and I find most of the music there to be of interest. By inserting more 'musical' elements into the soundscapes, does it cease to be as 'free'? All that rigid terminology is such utter nonsense. I always thought that the ethos of free jazz was the freedom to play whatever one wanted, whether it meant playing in key or out of key, a ballad or a noisy clump of random notes. If hardcore free improv says 'no, you can't play in key or any chord - the whole point is that this is a process where we forget how to play in a proper manner' - that's just utter silliness. Completely childish dogma. I recently discovered Mary Halvorson and I really like her stuff. She is quite versatile on the guitar and has a unique style. What I like about her stuff is that it embodies the spirit of free jazz I mentioned above. She is keen to try anything of interest in any context. What you find with younger generations is also a tendency to play in 'punk' contexts and to infuse it with jazz. Her stuff also always has technique. When she plays in a looser style, there is always a sense of structure, too. I particularly like this track.
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I hate Richard Linklater's films with a passion. Unironic, nonglorifying, non-critical, naturalistic treatment of pseudy, edgy, bohemian, nose-pierced (and-everything-else-pierced) youths who quote Bukowski and Kerouac whilst chasing girls and riding cars all day long. This is peppered with a liberal dose of platitudinous soppy statements about relationships and love. The arthouse equivalent of a Kodak ad.
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I think that I have found the most pointless word in the English language. I had seen the word 'Defenestration' here and there and the first thing I thought one morning when I woke up was 'I wonder what "Defenestration" means?' (As you do.) It so transpires that it involves throwing a person or an object out of a window. Do we really need a word for that? If I happen to throw something out of a window, I will just say that I am "defenestrating." Hang on, is there even a verb for it?!
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Defenestration
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I am undergoing a bit of a seismic shift. I would rather read the Holy Bible, Greek philosophy and Shakespeare than spend all day trying to get my head around Derrida, Deleuze and Foucault. (Those 3 thinkers are just not worth the work for me and, even if you synthesise their arguments into something easily comprehensible, I still don't find them at all interesting.) I would rather listen to Bach, Beethoven and Schubert than spend a lot of my time looking for obscure and weird bands. (There are a lot of weird and wonderful bands out there, but I have to sift through a lot of unlistenable and pretentious crap to find them. Why would I want to do that when I can listen to a nice piece by Bach?) When it comes to printed media, I would rather read a mainstream newspaper than some arcane magazine about strange art. I guess that this is what it means to grow, develop and mature. It can only be a good thing.
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Doing a job application correctly involves striking a fine balance between writing the most stomach-turning platitudes, insincere arse-licking and projecting an insincere, almost narcissistic sense of self-esteem.
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Monday, 18 January 2016
My favourite films of the year, '15
Here it is. My yearly list of favourite films.
Although several of these films were released internationally in 2014, this list cover films which received a theatrical release in the UK in 2015.
10. Best of Enemies (Documentary) (Robert Gordon and Morgan Neville, USA)
Gore Vidal and William F. Buckley seem like bickering twin brothers who are poles apart. Vidal was seen as a totemic figure for the left, Bucley was one for the right. They went head-to-head in a series of debates for the Rebulican presidential nomination in the run-up to the 1968 election. They were both consummate WASPs and public intellectuals. They were verbose, incredibly pompous, upper-lipped, patrician and supercilious. Although they both came to embody a certain economic class, politically they were diametric opposites.
The film, like many of these type of documentaries, is fast-paced and great fun to watch. The visuals and the talking-head formula are a little staid. However, the film is very interesting in the way it explores how Vidal and Buckley informed the arguments we have today. The debates might seem like a very obscure moment in history, but the directors make the effort to make them relevant. Vidal, ultimately, won the social argument. Socially, we are very liberal. His ideas about sexuality and transgenderism, based on ideas from antiquity, were very original and are now common-place. Buckley, undoubtedly, won the political and economic argument. Vidal was weary of the increasing power that multinational companies were already enjoying. Buckley was leading these debates with his magazine National Review and ultimately helped put Ronald Reagan in the White House.
For purely entertainment value, this makes it into my list. Seeing the debates in the cinema was great fun. (I had seen them on You Tube before - whilst procrastinating, usually!) Vidal and Buckley were learned wordsmiths and this hence made for great theatre. The debates usually degenerate into ad-hominem attacks. This is most notable when Vidal calls Buckley a 'crypto-nazi' and Buckley simply loses it - polysyllabically! The film ends by claiming that this lowered the standard of debate and that it foreshadowed news outlets like Fox News. Political debate, ultimately, became more partisan and binary. This does strike me as a little tenuous to be honest. These debates were led by far more colourful and learned men than, say, Bill O'Reilley.
9. Queen and Country (John Boorman, UK)
When I first saw this in the cinema, it struck me as an ok period drama. The reviews in the media said as much. Images of the film lingered in my mind and, having seen it for a second time, I realised that it was so much more than this. Whatever its flaws, I am certain that it will be reassessed in the future.
The film is drawn of memories that Boorman has of being in his twenties in the early 1950s. Everyone had to do military service at the time and he was hence conscripted to fight in the Korean war. What made the film especially moving to me was the fact that these are actual memories of someone who lived through the period.
The film documents a lot of the social changes going on at the time. The central character is based on Boorman. There is a sense that a kind of deferential society is being overturned. The young characters are especially contemptuous of the officers who, with their plummy voices, represent an ageing patriarchy about to be overturned. At what point the main characters snaps back at one officer something along the lines of 'your England has now ended.' There is a sense that new economic freedoms have arisen. The character has a keen interest in film. New careers in new sectors for all classes seem possible. Also, although not a permissive society, the characters are keen to defy any kind of moralistic attitude towards sex. The death of the king and the anointment of the queen is the symbolic of the way in which this patriarchy of plummy old men had given way to a new generation of idealists.
Boorman looks back on a 'lost love.' It is interesting that these memories are clearly subjective. The character, dubbed 'Ophelia' after the Hamlet character, is beautiful and exceedingly intelligent. Constant mention is made of the fact that she is 'too good' for him. After the passage of more than half a century, Boorman has clearly idealised this woman. The period is idealised and evoked nostalgically and this is what makes it a special film for me. It is one person's subjective account of the post-war years. It is perhaps a bit over-acted and episodic, but it's still a great film.
8. Timbuktu (Abderrahmane Sissako, France/Mauritania)
This is a drama exploring the hold that Muslim extremists have in Mali. It is a melodrama of sorts. The film, appropriately, employs a lot of humour as well. Groups such as Boko Haram and Isis are ultimately comprised of silly and asinine young men. I heard a pundit recently make the analogy that a lot of them go there so that they can re-enact video game 'shoot-em-ups' in real life. The film, appositely, humanises them and shows them to be stupid. Still, the film is a bit overwhelming to watch in that it doesn't flinch from portraying how normal people are affected by their authoritarian ways. There are some pretty lurid shots of stonings. The film shows how the Islamists clamp down on any type of expression, including music. It shows that their standards are completely arbitrary and that they are theologically illiterate when it comes to Islam.
The film is really nicely shot. There is a sense of joy when we see the inhabitants enjoying moments of reprieve, be it through playing football or playing music. (Malian music is really lovely.) There is a lovely tracking shot of a group of people playing football without their confiscated ball. When discussing Islamism, it is tempting to view it abstractedly. In this film, everyone is human. As such, you have a mixed bag of emotions. There is terror, there is reprieve, sporadic moments of joy and utter grief. This is the most appropriate treatment. The story is resolved with the central character being executed, which perhaps emphasises the utter sense of hopelessness and despair in the region.
7. The Tribe (Myroslav Slaboshpytskyi, Ukraine)
This film is entirely in Ukranian sign language. This has a Brechtian effect, where you are distanced from the events taking place. The director mentioned that deaf-mute people themselves have been alienated from films from time immemorial and this is the first time that 'normal' people have had the same experience.
The film, thankfully, is easy to follow. I found it to be extremely visceral and stimulating. To use a crass metaphor, it's somewhat like being punched in the face, only in a good way. The film shows how deaf-mute students become embroiled in gangs, street-fights, sex and abortions. It's like this is a grimy subculture of another grimy subculture. This is where the Brechtian element comes in. Abortions, street-fights and under-age drinking are endemic in Ukraine. Through the use of sign language, it alienates you from it and makes you see it from another angle.
The cinematography is also wonderfully inventive and often shows many events taking place concurrently. This is another 'alienating' technique. The film is emotionally involving, but it stirs your emotions in a way that other films don't.
6. The Look of Silence (Documentary) (Joshua Oppenheimer, Denmark/Finland/Indonesia/Norway/UK)
This is Oppenheimer's sequel to The Act of Killing. Tellingly, the film received a 'silent' response and didn't receive anywhere near the amount of adulation that it predecessor did. Whereas the first film was a deliberately histrionic and flamboyant affair, this one is more quiet and introspective. The first film was staggering because the killers did not exhibit the slightest compunction, even when re-enacting the murders of alleged communists in Indonesia. This film is from the perspective of the victims. The son of one of the victims finds out how his father was tortured. He tracks down several people and awkward exchanges ensue. We see snatches of guilt. However, the film shows the sense of regret and injustice that the victims have experienced. The son of the victim frequently presses them and often starts a lot of moralising. He tracks down as many accomplices as he can. However, there is a sense that their mood of blithe indifference is too entrenched. His own son is shown in school where he is taught how the US-backed coup had a benign influence. They are taught as to how communists used to slit people's throats and cause havoc.
The tone here is one of quiet introspection tinged with rage. We probe a lot deeper into the minds of the killers, too. If the previous film left me feeling a little sick, this one provides a bit of vindication.
5. Pasolini (Abel Ferrara, France/Italy/Belgium)
This film recreates Pasolini's final days in the mid 70s, where he was murdered by a homosexual gang. The reasons why he was murdered are unclear. He was a raconteur, a Marxist and had just directed a gruesomely pornographic adaptation of 120 Days of Sodom.
Pasolini was a poet, short story writer, journalist and novelist as well as a film director. I am particularly interested in films that imaginatively recreate the writing process and this is one of them. Scenes of Pasolini working on his desks are interwoven with recreations of his short stories. There is a sense of apocalyptic gloom in the air. Pasolini has ideas about an imminent collapse of the global economy and, by the time he is murdered, it seems like a voluntary attempt at martyrdom.
The film is nicely shot and I liked the use of Bach. (It something of a cliche to use Bach in arthouse cinema, but nevermind. It works.) I have read that it is helpful to have prior knowledge of Pasolini, though I was taken by the recreation of his fantastical short stories and I am not familiar with his work. Defoe's performance is appositely subdued. The causes of Pasoloni's death are still subject to interpretation. Defoe's Pasolini is reserved and doesn't give anything away. Ferrara, apparently, believes several conspiracy theories about the murder. For the film, however, he leaves everything clouded in a miasma of ambiguity.
4. 45 Years (Andrew Haigh, UK)
Cinemas are something of a secular temple for me. I have grown especially fond of 'slow' cinema. It has an almost mystical effect, especially when seen in a cinema. The world is fast and frenetic, flooded with news and social media messages. Slow cinema, perhaps more so than any other creative media, has the potential of slowing everything down and make you contemplate.
This is a film about a week in the life of an ageing middle crust couple. They are shown coping with a revelation the husband makes. They have a celebration for their anniversary. The film ends.
This is perhaps a British equivalent of Ozu. It shows the nuances of a certain class and a certain type of relationship. It doesn't spoil it with too much narrative. It is a very life-affirming film of a very ordinary type of relationship.
3. Inherent Vice (Paul Thomas Anderson, USA)
They finally did it. They brought Thomas Pynchon to the screen. Anderson's adaptation is joyously convoluted and meandering ride through late 60s America. The lead character is a stoned hippie who is also a private detective.
I loved the way the film retained Pynchon's bizarro humour and the perennial presence of vague subplots you don't quite understand. There is a therapist who encourages teenages to take on 'sensible drug use.' There is a strange mystical sect. A stash of drugs is held by a yacht. It is clearly set in a post-modern world where everything is askew and artificial. Yet, strangely enough, it seems somewhat feasible in that it might well be the memories of someone who was too stoned to remember them.
Pynchon is clearly nostalgic about the era, its sense of humour and its misplaced idealism. The hippie dream collapsed on itself because it was not sustainable. Anderson shares this nostalgia, with saturated shots and a wistful soundtrack. There is a sense throughout the film that the idealism has lapsed into a type of drug-induced paranoia. The love generation, aided by its prodigious use of drugs, was about to lead towards Charles Manson. Pynchon's novels are suffused with a sense of paranoia about government agencies and secret sects. Here the paranoia is drug-induced. Everywhere the lead character turns, there seems to be some sort of conspiracy and it all appears to be led by the government or forces beyond his control.
2. Carol (Todd Haynes, USA)
Carol has being called a melodrama. Narratively, performance-ways, dialogue-wise, it seems perfect. Although it's a melodrama, it's maybe the first time this type of film in a way that didn't leaveme feeling cheated afterwards. I didn't feel like heart strings were being moved by something hokey and third-rate.
The film is based on a novel by Patricia Highsmith. It is set in the 1950s and deals with a lesbian relationship. It is a highly puritanical society with normative values about heterosexual relationships. Interestingly, the film doesn't see the idea of sexuality as being innate, which is the view we normally hold now. Sexual identity almost seems willed as a way to defy a conformist society. Although films of the time were definitely 'male gaze,' this film is simultaneously 'queer gaze' and 'female gaze'. The shots definitely are mediated through the perspective of these oppressed characters.
The mise-en-scene perfectly recreates the period of the epoch. Cate Blanchett's performance is flawless. This is a film that would overwhelm anyone.
1. The Salt of the Earth (Documentary) (Wim Wenders, France/Brazil)
This is a documentary about the Brazilian photographer Sebastiao Salgado. It tracks how he left a comfortable career in finance for his photographic pursuits. He travelled across South America and later East Africa to document his ethnographic interests. Later on he developed an interest in nature.
This film works on so many levels. There is a somewhat of a philosophical undercurrent. Salgado has been turned into a pessimist by his travels. In his travels towards 'the heart of darkness,' he finds malnutrition, decay, death, etc. He says that this development can even arise where living and education standards are better, such as Yugoslavia. All this took place during 'the end of history,' which reinforces the utter blitheness and utter carelessness of the term. Humans are ultimately powerless when compared to immensity of nature and the hold that multinational corporations have over us. The film works on a anthropological level, with Salgado's photographs acting as a kind of document of the codes and practices of certain tribes. It also works on aeshetic level, with his photograph of the war in Kuwait revealing an element of the sublime with the depiction of the destruction of an oil rig. There is also definitely a personal element, as Salgado recounts the difficulties of having to live apart from his wife and son. There is also a moving account of how he grew to have affection for a child he had who was born with Down's Syndrome.
Everyone who saw this in the cinema was absolutely taken aback by it. It worked on a lot of levels and it was beautiful to look at. There is a sense in the end of what a fruitful existence Salgado has had and also of the limitless experiences to be had with several cultures and with nature.
Although several of these films were released internationally in 2014, this list cover films which received a theatrical release in the UK in 2015.
10. Best of Enemies (Documentary) (Robert Gordon and Morgan Neville, USA)
Gore Vidal and William F. Buckley seem like bickering twin brothers who are poles apart. Vidal was seen as a totemic figure for the left, Bucley was one for the right. They went head-to-head in a series of debates for the Rebulican presidential nomination in the run-up to the 1968 election. They were both consummate WASPs and public intellectuals. They were verbose, incredibly pompous, upper-lipped, patrician and supercilious. Although they both came to embody a certain economic class, politically they were diametric opposites.
The film, like many of these type of documentaries, is fast-paced and great fun to watch. The visuals and the talking-head formula are a little staid. However, the film is very interesting in the way it explores how Vidal and Buckley informed the arguments we have today. The debates might seem like a very obscure moment in history, but the directors make the effort to make them relevant. Vidal, ultimately, won the social argument. Socially, we are very liberal. His ideas about sexuality and transgenderism, based on ideas from antiquity, were very original and are now common-place. Buckley, undoubtedly, won the political and economic argument. Vidal was weary of the increasing power that multinational companies were already enjoying. Buckley was leading these debates with his magazine National Review and ultimately helped put Ronald Reagan in the White House.
For purely entertainment value, this makes it into my list. Seeing the debates in the cinema was great fun. (I had seen them on You Tube before - whilst procrastinating, usually!) Vidal and Buckley were learned wordsmiths and this hence made for great theatre. The debates usually degenerate into ad-hominem attacks. This is most notable when Vidal calls Buckley a 'crypto-nazi' and Buckley simply loses it - polysyllabically! The film ends by claiming that this lowered the standard of debate and that it foreshadowed news outlets like Fox News. Political debate, ultimately, became more partisan and binary. This does strike me as a little tenuous to be honest. These debates were led by far more colourful and learned men than, say, Bill O'Reilley.
9. Queen and Country (John Boorman, UK)
When I first saw this in the cinema, it struck me as an ok period drama. The reviews in the media said as much. Images of the film lingered in my mind and, having seen it for a second time, I realised that it was so much more than this. Whatever its flaws, I am certain that it will be reassessed in the future.
The film is drawn of memories that Boorman has of being in his twenties in the early 1950s. Everyone had to do military service at the time and he was hence conscripted to fight in the Korean war. What made the film especially moving to me was the fact that these are actual memories of someone who lived through the period.
The film documents a lot of the social changes going on at the time. The central character is based on Boorman. There is a sense that a kind of deferential society is being overturned. The young characters are especially contemptuous of the officers who, with their plummy voices, represent an ageing patriarchy about to be overturned. At what point the main characters snaps back at one officer something along the lines of 'your England has now ended.' There is a sense that new economic freedoms have arisen. The character has a keen interest in film. New careers in new sectors for all classes seem possible. Also, although not a permissive society, the characters are keen to defy any kind of moralistic attitude towards sex. The death of the king and the anointment of the queen is the symbolic of the way in which this patriarchy of plummy old men had given way to a new generation of idealists.
Boorman looks back on a 'lost love.' It is interesting that these memories are clearly subjective. The character, dubbed 'Ophelia' after the Hamlet character, is beautiful and exceedingly intelligent. Constant mention is made of the fact that she is 'too good' for him. After the passage of more than half a century, Boorman has clearly idealised this woman. The period is idealised and evoked nostalgically and this is what makes it a special film for me. It is one person's subjective account of the post-war years. It is perhaps a bit over-acted and episodic, but it's still a great film.
8. Timbuktu (Abderrahmane Sissako, France/Mauritania)
This is a drama exploring the hold that Muslim extremists have in Mali. It is a melodrama of sorts. The film, appropriately, employs a lot of humour as well. Groups such as Boko Haram and Isis are ultimately comprised of silly and asinine young men. I heard a pundit recently make the analogy that a lot of them go there so that they can re-enact video game 'shoot-em-ups' in real life. The film, appositely, humanises them and shows them to be stupid. Still, the film is a bit overwhelming to watch in that it doesn't flinch from portraying how normal people are affected by their authoritarian ways. There are some pretty lurid shots of stonings. The film shows how the Islamists clamp down on any type of expression, including music. It shows that their standards are completely arbitrary and that they are theologically illiterate when it comes to Islam.
The film is really nicely shot. There is a sense of joy when we see the inhabitants enjoying moments of reprieve, be it through playing football or playing music. (Malian music is really lovely.) There is a lovely tracking shot of a group of people playing football without their confiscated ball. When discussing Islamism, it is tempting to view it abstractedly. In this film, everyone is human. As such, you have a mixed bag of emotions. There is terror, there is reprieve, sporadic moments of joy and utter grief. This is the most appropriate treatment. The story is resolved with the central character being executed, which perhaps emphasises the utter sense of hopelessness and despair in the region.
7. The Tribe (Myroslav Slaboshpytskyi, Ukraine)
This film is entirely in Ukranian sign language. This has a Brechtian effect, where you are distanced from the events taking place. The director mentioned that deaf-mute people themselves have been alienated from films from time immemorial and this is the first time that 'normal' people have had the same experience.
The film, thankfully, is easy to follow. I found it to be extremely visceral and stimulating. To use a crass metaphor, it's somewhat like being punched in the face, only in a good way. The film shows how deaf-mute students become embroiled in gangs, street-fights, sex and abortions. It's like this is a grimy subculture of another grimy subculture. This is where the Brechtian element comes in. Abortions, street-fights and under-age drinking are endemic in Ukraine. Through the use of sign language, it alienates you from it and makes you see it from another angle.
The cinematography is also wonderfully inventive and often shows many events taking place concurrently. This is another 'alienating' technique. The film is emotionally involving, but it stirs your emotions in a way that other films don't.
6. The Look of Silence (Documentary) (Joshua Oppenheimer, Denmark/Finland/Indonesia/Norway/UK)
This is Oppenheimer's sequel to The Act of Killing. Tellingly, the film received a 'silent' response and didn't receive anywhere near the amount of adulation that it predecessor did. Whereas the first film was a deliberately histrionic and flamboyant affair, this one is more quiet and introspective. The first film was staggering because the killers did not exhibit the slightest compunction, even when re-enacting the murders of alleged communists in Indonesia. This film is from the perspective of the victims. The son of one of the victims finds out how his father was tortured. He tracks down several people and awkward exchanges ensue. We see snatches of guilt. However, the film shows the sense of regret and injustice that the victims have experienced. The son of the victim frequently presses them and often starts a lot of moralising. He tracks down as many accomplices as he can. However, there is a sense that their mood of blithe indifference is too entrenched. His own son is shown in school where he is taught how the US-backed coup had a benign influence. They are taught as to how communists used to slit people's throats and cause havoc.
The tone here is one of quiet introspection tinged with rage. We probe a lot deeper into the minds of the killers, too. If the previous film left me feeling a little sick, this one provides a bit of vindication.
5. Pasolini (Abel Ferrara, France/Italy/Belgium)
This film recreates Pasolini's final days in the mid 70s, where he was murdered by a homosexual gang. The reasons why he was murdered are unclear. He was a raconteur, a Marxist and had just directed a gruesomely pornographic adaptation of 120 Days of Sodom.
Pasolini was a poet, short story writer, journalist and novelist as well as a film director. I am particularly interested in films that imaginatively recreate the writing process and this is one of them. Scenes of Pasolini working on his desks are interwoven with recreations of his short stories. There is a sense of apocalyptic gloom in the air. Pasolini has ideas about an imminent collapse of the global economy and, by the time he is murdered, it seems like a voluntary attempt at martyrdom.
The film is nicely shot and I liked the use of Bach. (It something of a cliche to use Bach in arthouse cinema, but nevermind. It works.) I have read that it is helpful to have prior knowledge of Pasolini, though I was taken by the recreation of his fantastical short stories and I am not familiar with his work. Defoe's performance is appositely subdued. The causes of Pasoloni's death are still subject to interpretation. Defoe's Pasolini is reserved and doesn't give anything away. Ferrara, apparently, believes several conspiracy theories about the murder. For the film, however, he leaves everything clouded in a miasma of ambiguity.
4. 45 Years (Andrew Haigh, UK)
Cinemas are something of a secular temple for me. I have grown especially fond of 'slow' cinema. It has an almost mystical effect, especially when seen in a cinema. The world is fast and frenetic, flooded with news and social media messages. Slow cinema, perhaps more so than any other creative media, has the potential of slowing everything down and make you contemplate.
This is a film about a week in the life of an ageing middle crust couple. They are shown coping with a revelation the husband makes. They have a celebration for their anniversary. The film ends.
This is perhaps a British equivalent of Ozu. It shows the nuances of a certain class and a certain type of relationship. It doesn't spoil it with too much narrative. It is a very life-affirming film of a very ordinary type of relationship.
3. Inherent Vice (Paul Thomas Anderson, USA)
They finally did it. They brought Thomas Pynchon to the screen. Anderson's adaptation is joyously convoluted and meandering ride through late 60s America. The lead character is a stoned hippie who is also a private detective.
I loved the way the film retained Pynchon's bizarro humour and the perennial presence of vague subplots you don't quite understand. There is a therapist who encourages teenages to take on 'sensible drug use.' There is a strange mystical sect. A stash of drugs is held by a yacht. It is clearly set in a post-modern world where everything is askew and artificial. Yet, strangely enough, it seems somewhat feasible in that it might well be the memories of someone who was too stoned to remember them.
Pynchon is clearly nostalgic about the era, its sense of humour and its misplaced idealism. The hippie dream collapsed on itself because it was not sustainable. Anderson shares this nostalgia, with saturated shots and a wistful soundtrack. There is a sense throughout the film that the idealism has lapsed into a type of drug-induced paranoia. The love generation, aided by its prodigious use of drugs, was about to lead towards Charles Manson. Pynchon's novels are suffused with a sense of paranoia about government agencies and secret sects. Here the paranoia is drug-induced. Everywhere the lead character turns, there seems to be some sort of conspiracy and it all appears to be led by the government or forces beyond his control.
2. Carol (Todd Haynes, USA)
The film is based on a novel by Patricia Highsmith. It is set in the 1950s and deals with a lesbian relationship. It is a highly puritanical society with normative values about heterosexual relationships. Interestingly, the film doesn't see the idea of sexuality as being innate, which is the view we normally hold now. Sexual identity almost seems willed as a way to defy a conformist society. Although films of the time were definitely 'male gaze,' this film is simultaneously 'queer gaze' and 'female gaze'. The shots definitely are mediated through the perspective of these oppressed characters.
The mise-en-scene perfectly recreates the period of the epoch. Cate Blanchett's performance is flawless. This is a film that would overwhelm anyone.
1. The Salt of the Earth (Documentary) (Wim Wenders, France/Brazil)
This is a documentary about the Brazilian photographer Sebastiao Salgado. It tracks how he left a comfortable career in finance for his photographic pursuits. He travelled across South America and later East Africa to document his ethnographic interests. Later on he developed an interest in nature.
This film works on so many levels. There is a somewhat of a philosophical undercurrent. Salgado has been turned into a pessimist by his travels. In his travels towards 'the heart of darkness,' he finds malnutrition, decay, death, etc. He says that this development can even arise where living and education standards are better, such as Yugoslavia. All this took place during 'the end of history,' which reinforces the utter blitheness and utter carelessness of the term. Humans are ultimately powerless when compared to immensity of nature and the hold that multinational corporations have over us. The film works on a anthropological level, with Salgado's photographs acting as a kind of document of the codes and practices of certain tribes. It also works on aeshetic level, with his photograph of the war in Kuwait revealing an element of the sublime with the depiction of the destruction of an oil rig. There is also definitely a personal element, as Salgado recounts the difficulties of having to live apart from his wife and son. There is also a moving account of how he grew to have affection for a child he had who was born with Down's Syndrome.
Everyone who saw this in the cinema was absolutely taken aback by it. It worked on a lot of levels and it was beautiful to look at. There is a sense in the end of what a fruitful existence Salgado has had and also of the limitless experiences to be had with several cultures and with nature.
Wednesday, 6 January 2016
The physiognomy of football managers #4
Attack! Attack! Attack! Run! Run! Run! Mauricio Pochettino's teams do a lot of running and a lot of attacking. Their work-rate is phenomenal. It all seems far too much for the main man himself, Poche, to handle. He looks like he is about to have a panic attack. You can tell that he is a quiet, albeit nervous, chap. You can tell he is really passionate about what he does, that he is an obsessive. He is a bit like me, really.
Poche is from a humble background, having grown up in a poor town near Rosario. He was scouted by his mentor, Marcelo Bielsa, to play in the Rosario team Newell's Old Boys. He derives his tactics from 'El Loco' Bielsa, although he is more pragmatic when implementing them. Again, Poche is another example of someone marked by his uprbringing. Although he enjoyed a playing career in Europe, he is not at all flamboyant with his gestures. He is to the point. He does not talk at all about his private life. He is in the football stadium to one thing and one thing only: win a game of football.
Yet for all his humility, Poche isn't without his ideals. He is an idealist. He does want to achieve great, big, unheralded things. At the same time, he is down to earth about it. We can tell this we look at him. (Again the same shtick!) We can tell from the look in his eyes that he is driven to win big things with risky tactics. He is full of nervous energy - and he wants to transpose that nervous energy onto the pitch. Indeed, his teams are frenetically fast. Sadly, they often end the season having run out of legs. We can also tell that he is down to earth in that his gestures and hand signals are kept to a minimum. We sense that he gets close to the pitch simply to let the players know that he is there. With his nervous demenour, however, could this have an adverse effect?
It's finally beginning to work with Spurs. They really are beginning to resemble their manager - at long last. If there's one team that lacks graft, it's Spurs. They now have both guile and graft thanks to their exemplary manager. If there's one key word that recurs in his press conferences, it's 'a philosophy.' This shouldn't be taken as a sign of pretension. Rather, it should just reveal that Maurcio Pochettino is a man of integrity and principles who wants to achieve great things playing the way he wants to play.
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