They start out picking bananas but were both born with a gift. One for kicking a ball into the net, the other for stopping it.
One day they are walking down some obscure back road in Mexico and lo and behold, there’s Dario Vidali. Better known as “Baton”. In the world of futbol, he is a renouned talent scout. But now he’s just a guy with a flat tire. Tato and Beto help him out and then he watches them play. Eventually he shoots them right to the top of the world. One at a time as it were.
Of course along the way money changes hands over and over and over again. Talent, apparently, isn’t all that counts if you actually want to play the game. Everyone seems to have a cut of one or another percentage. But once you do make it big [down there] you’re a cross between a rock star and God. Still, if you are emotionally and intellectually shallow before the fame that’s not likely to change much after it. Mostly they’re preoccuped with accummulating “things”.
And one is addicted to gambling. Only he’s not very good at it. And the other wants to marry a woman who is only in it for the money. And then all the other things out there that can fuck up your life.
Sometimes of late it seems Gael García Bernal is in every goddamn movie ever made. Well, South of the Border anyway.
Rudo y Cursi
Dario [voiceover]: A while back some wanker told me the most beautiful game ever invented began with the severed head of a soldier. And the enemy’s brutal kick. The first goal ever, unofficially, was when the head flew between two trees. Dreadful I said. That depends said the wanker. Dreadful for the goalkeeper, but for the striker it was glorious.
Not much that isn't applicable to.
Beto: What the fuck?
Tato: What do you mean?
Beto: I said aim to the right. Why’d you shoot the other way?
Tato: I aimed right!
Beto: I meant the other right!
The wrong right syndrome.
Dario [voiceover]: All life is a gamble, a ball hits the goalpost, or goes in for a goal. What makes the difference? Destiny, of course. That and the effect given to the ball when it’s kicked.
Really, though, what's the difference?
Dario [voiceover]: The bench is purgatory. It’s like quicksand, the longer you stay, the deeper you sink. It’s like taking your bride on a honeymoon, then not being able to make love, but having to watch 22 cretins and three bobbies have their way with her while thousands cheer.
And, of course, the equivalent of that here.
Beto: That’s my cock!
I forget: was it?
Man on the street [accosting Tato]: If you don’t play like you used to against Noparleros, we’ll beat the shit out of you. We know where you live, where you train, where you hang out…so you better play to win, asshole.
[he hands Tato a notepad]
Man on the street: Can I have your autograph?
The gall, let's say.
Dario [voiceover]: Ever since futbol became a business, everything rides on results. No more joy in the game, only fear remains. No one takes chances because they cannot fail. It’s like living with a gun to your head.
Let's make philosophy a business.
Dario [voiceover]: Penalty means punishment. But only one man is penalized, the one who fails. The winner is covered in glory. If both are penalized, that means the grand game of life has defeated the beautiful game of futbol.
Which is more ridiculous, he wondered.
Quote of the day
-
iambiguous
- Posts: 11317
- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
Irony abounds here. This film is based on the [incredible] book by Norman Mailer. It portrays a man who was in and out of prison his whole life. Gary Gilmore. One day he is released into the “general population” that is all the rest of us. But he never really makes the adjustment. And he hasn’t really changed at all. He ends up killing someone. And then someone else. Back he goes. Ironic because Mailer himself was instrumental in the release of another prisoner who, once out, killed a man. This one: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Henry_Abbott
This DVD is the infamous “director’s cut”. It pissed off a lot people. Why? Because it’s practically the only director’s cut that chops stuff out of the film instead adding footage to it. Apparently there were two versions filmed. One for the American audience and one for the rest of the world. Nudity and expletives gone. But since I have only ever seen the US rendition, I’m not really sure what is missing. But others also insist that additional scenes were taken out too. That this is but a pale imitation of the original.
Again, Gilmore’s problem is that he has been in prison for so long he doesn’t know how to behave outside of it. And in prison inmates learn to survive from day to day in a vicious, dog eat dog world. He is basically a walking and talking id. He thinks with his gut. It’s hard for him not to just take what he wants. And fuck everyone else. In short, he’s a piece of shit.
And then he meets Nicole, an unwed mother of two. Apparently, she has spent her entire life on welfare. He’s 35, she’s 19. She’s the gasoline, he’s the match. Except when he’s the gasoline and she’s the match.
That’s the first part. The second part revolves around the death penalty. After he gets convicted and is sentenced to death he demands that they actually do it. But others out there are opposed to capital punishment so their aim is to keep him alive. His execution would be the first in 10 years. Here in America anyway.
Then the sensationalism kicks into high gear: the suicide pact, the political posturing, the histrionics. Finally, the part about Gilmore – his story – becoming a commodity. Something you can sell books regarding or shoot a film about. Stick it on TV and plaster commercials throughout.
The Executioner's Song
Title card: In the Spring of 1976, Gary Gilmore, who had served a sentence of 12 years for armed robbery, was paroled from the federal penitentiary at Marion, Illinois, into the custody of his cousin, Brenda. They had not seen each other since childhood.
Let's just say it starts out....promising?
Gary: Will you go to a motel with me?
Woman: No. I am here to be your friend. If the other is what you want you better look someplace else.
Gary: I’m sorry but I haven’t been around girls in a long time.
Woman: You can’t have it all in five minutes, Gary. You have to earn it bit by bit.
Gary: You know, you got it real easy.
Woman: Listen, I work hard. I’ve worked super hard to have my home and my car and my color TV.
Gary [disgusted]: Jesus, I don’t want to hear any more of that.
Woman: Well you’re gonna.
[Gary turns abruptly, angrily in her direction]
Woman: You want to hit me, don’t you?
Oh yeah.
Gary: I guess you think I eat like a pig just gobbling it down.
Vern: I noticed you eat fast.
Gary: You see, in prison you get 15 minutes to get your food, sit down, eat it and get out of there…otherwise you don’t eat.
Not counting commissary, of course.
Gary: Katherine, I want you to take these cans of beer, they’re stolen property.
Katherine: My gosh, aren’t you afraid to do that?
Gary: No, I just walk in like I own the place.
Like some do here if I'm not mistaken.
Val [reading the paper about the gas station robbery]: Judas priest. Do you believe this guy? What kind of an idiot would do that? Kill a guy for nothing. I can understand if he has to fight for the money. But anybody who’d take the cash and take the kid into the bathroom, lay him on the floor and shoot him in the back of the head twice, I mean, he’s got to be a psycho-maniac.
Gary: Maybe that guy deserved to die, Val.
Val: Come on, Gary, to shoot a kid for nothing, you’d have to be crazy, man.
In one asshole and out the other.
Sterling: Gary, I should take you to the hospital.
Gary: Hospitals don’t understand ex-convicts with gunshot wounds.
Why is that?
Gary [in a letter to Nicole]: I’m so used to hosility, deceipt, pettiness, evil and hatred. These things are my natural habitat. They have shaped me. I look through the world with eyes that suspect, doubt, fear, hate. All selfish and vain. I truly belong in a place this dank and dirty.
Probably shouldn't have paroled him then.
Judge: Since the verdict of the jury is death do you have an election as to the mode of death.
Gary: I prefer to be shot.
He would, of course.
Boaz [to a reporter’s question regarding why Gilmore did what he did]: The prison system is a totally regimented and controlled way of life. For more than a dozen years Gary Gilmore was told when to go to bed, when to get up, when to eat. That is totally contradictory to our capitalist lifestyle. Then one day they put Gary out on the street and they say, “here, today is magic…now you’re a capitalist. Go out and do it on your own. Find a job, get up in the morning, get to work on time, manage your own money. Do everything we taught you how not to do in prison.” It’s guarenteed to fail.
Of course, given the prison industial complex, that's the whole fucking point.
Brenda: I’m wondering Gary how come you didn’t take enough pills to do the job?
Gary: What are you talking about?
Brenda: Gary, come on, you know a whole lot about drugs. You know how much to take. I bet you wanted to stay around long enough to make sure Nicole was dead.
Gary: You are a wretched woman.
Brenda: And you are a scum sucking pig.
Let's decide: which is worse?
Larry: In effect, I am offering Gary $50,000. This is a firm offer, not just a bargaining stance. These are the real prices that are available. There are other producers who will tell you the property is worth 10 million dollars. Watch them only offer a small amount now. The likelihood is the big piece will never be seen.
Vern: Mr Susskind called me from New York. He said the difference between him and you is the difference between a high school football team and the Dallas Cowboys.
You know, back then.
Gary [to Larry]: Who is going to play me in the movie?
More to the point, who is playing him now?
Gary [to his brother Mikal]: When they first sent me to juvenile, two boys held me down and raped me. I had to buck it. Two years later I was the one holding the new kids down.
That certainly explains something, right?
Gary [at press conference]: It seems the people of Utah want to have the death penalty, but they don’t want to have any executions.
Oh, they got around to it eventually.
This DVD is the infamous “director’s cut”. It pissed off a lot people. Why? Because it’s practically the only director’s cut that chops stuff out of the film instead adding footage to it. Apparently there were two versions filmed. One for the American audience and one for the rest of the world. Nudity and expletives gone. But since I have only ever seen the US rendition, I’m not really sure what is missing. But others also insist that additional scenes were taken out too. That this is but a pale imitation of the original.
Again, Gilmore’s problem is that he has been in prison for so long he doesn’t know how to behave outside of it. And in prison inmates learn to survive from day to day in a vicious, dog eat dog world. He is basically a walking and talking id. He thinks with his gut. It’s hard for him not to just take what he wants. And fuck everyone else. In short, he’s a piece of shit.
And then he meets Nicole, an unwed mother of two. Apparently, she has spent her entire life on welfare. He’s 35, she’s 19. She’s the gasoline, he’s the match. Except when he’s the gasoline and she’s the match.
That’s the first part. The second part revolves around the death penalty. After he gets convicted and is sentenced to death he demands that they actually do it. But others out there are opposed to capital punishment so their aim is to keep him alive. His execution would be the first in 10 years. Here in America anyway.
Then the sensationalism kicks into high gear: the suicide pact, the political posturing, the histrionics. Finally, the part about Gilmore – his story – becoming a commodity. Something you can sell books regarding or shoot a film about. Stick it on TV and plaster commercials throughout.
The Executioner's Song
Title card: In the Spring of 1976, Gary Gilmore, who had served a sentence of 12 years for armed robbery, was paroled from the federal penitentiary at Marion, Illinois, into the custody of his cousin, Brenda. They had not seen each other since childhood.
Let's just say it starts out....promising?
Gary: Will you go to a motel with me?
Woman: No. I am here to be your friend. If the other is what you want you better look someplace else.
Gary: I’m sorry but I haven’t been around girls in a long time.
Woman: You can’t have it all in five minutes, Gary. You have to earn it bit by bit.
Gary: You know, you got it real easy.
Woman: Listen, I work hard. I’ve worked super hard to have my home and my car and my color TV.
Gary [disgusted]: Jesus, I don’t want to hear any more of that.
Woman: Well you’re gonna.
[Gary turns abruptly, angrily in her direction]
Woman: You want to hit me, don’t you?
Oh yeah.
Gary: I guess you think I eat like a pig just gobbling it down.
Vern: I noticed you eat fast.
Gary: You see, in prison you get 15 minutes to get your food, sit down, eat it and get out of there…otherwise you don’t eat.
Not counting commissary, of course.
Gary: Katherine, I want you to take these cans of beer, they’re stolen property.
Katherine: My gosh, aren’t you afraid to do that?
Gary: No, I just walk in like I own the place.
Like some do here if I'm not mistaken.
Val [reading the paper about the gas station robbery]: Judas priest. Do you believe this guy? What kind of an idiot would do that? Kill a guy for nothing. I can understand if he has to fight for the money. But anybody who’d take the cash and take the kid into the bathroom, lay him on the floor and shoot him in the back of the head twice, I mean, he’s got to be a psycho-maniac.
Gary: Maybe that guy deserved to die, Val.
Val: Come on, Gary, to shoot a kid for nothing, you’d have to be crazy, man.
In one asshole and out the other.
Sterling: Gary, I should take you to the hospital.
Gary: Hospitals don’t understand ex-convicts with gunshot wounds.
Why is that?
Gary [in a letter to Nicole]: I’m so used to hosility, deceipt, pettiness, evil and hatred. These things are my natural habitat. They have shaped me. I look through the world with eyes that suspect, doubt, fear, hate. All selfish and vain. I truly belong in a place this dank and dirty.
Probably shouldn't have paroled him then.
Judge: Since the verdict of the jury is death do you have an election as to the mode of death.
Gary: I prefer to be shot.
He would, of course.
Boaz [to a reporter’s question regarding why Gilmore did what he did]: The prison system is a totally regimented and controlled way of life. For more than a dozen years Gary Gilmore was told when to go to bed, when to get up, when to eat. That is totally contradictory to our capitalist lifestyle. Then one day they put Gary out on the street and they say, “here, today is magic…now you’re a capitalist. Go out and do it on your own. Find a job, get up in the morning, get to work on time, manage your own money. Do everything we taught you how not to do in prison.” It’s guarenteed to fail.
Of course, given the prison industial complex, that's the whole fucking point.
Brenda: I’m wondering Gary how come you didn’t take enough pills to do the job?
Gary: What are you talking about?
Brenda: Gary, come on, you know a whole lot about drugs. You know how much to take. I bet you wanted to stay around long enough to make sure Nicole was dead.
Gary: You are a wretched woman.
Brenda: And you are a scum sucking pig.
Let's decide: which is worse?
Larry: In effect, I am offering Gary $50,000. This is a firm offer, not just a bargaining stance. These are the real prices that are available. There are other producers who will tell you the property is worth 10 million dollars. Watch them only offer a small amount now. The likelihood is the big piece will never be seen.
Vern: Mr Susskind called me from New York. He said the difference between him and you is the difference between a high school football team and the Dallas Cowboys.
You know, back then.
Gary [to Larry]: Who is going to play me in the movie?
More to the point, who is playing him now?
Gary [to his brother Mikal]: When they first sent me to juvenile, two boys held me down and raped me. I had to buck it. Two years later I was the one holding the new kids down.
That certainly explains something, right?
Gary [at press conference]: It seems the people of Utah want to have the death penalty, but they don’t want to have any executions.
Oh, they got around to it eventually.
-
iambiguous
- Posts: 11317
- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
Death
“There is a certain right by which we may deprive a man of life, but none by which we may deprive him of death..." Friedrich Nietzsche
Who wants to be first?
“You should read something else.
Why would he have done that to him?
I don't know, she said.
Do you ever feel like Job?
She smiled, a little twinkle in her eyes.
Sometimes.
But you haven't lost your faith?
No, I knew she hadn't, but I think I was losing mine.
Is it because you think you might get better?
No, she said, it's because it's the only thing I have left.” Nicholas Sparks
There you go, right?
“I wonder what I will do if she doesn't wake up, and I don't have an answer. As I lie back down next to her and pull her into my arms, my stomach growls, and suddenly I know exactly what I will do. If she doesn't wake up, then I will just lie with her until I don't wake up either.” Shay Savage
Now that's a commitment.
“He cries. 'Please! I don't want to die.'
I lean over. My hair smothers him.
'Then you should never have been born,' I say.” Christopher Pike
Like any of us consented to that.
Would you give up your vengeance against someone you hate if it meant saving someone you love? Would you want your dreams to come true if it meant granting your enemy's dying wish?” Jodi Picoult
Of course, would you is one thing, should you another thing altogether.
“In Mongolia, when a dog dies, he is buried high in the hills so people cannot walk on his grave. The dog’s master whispers in the dog’s ear his wishes that the dog will return as a man in his next life. Then his tail is cut off and put beneath his head, and a piece of meat of fat is cut off and placed in his mouth to sustain his soul for its journey; before he is reincarnated, the dog’s soul is freed to travel the land, to run across the high desert plains for as long as it would like.
I learned that from a program on the National Geographic Channel, so I believe it is true. Not all dogs return as men, they say; only those who are ready.
I am ready.” Garth Stein
Oh, well, what's one more One True Path, right?
“There is a certain right by which we may deprive a man of life, but none by which we may deprive him of death..." Friedrich Nietzsche
Who wants to be first?
“You should read something else.
Why would he have done that to him?
I don't know, she said.
Do you ever feel like Job?
She smiled, a little twinkle in her eyes.
Sometimes.
But you haven't lost your faith?
No, I knew she hadn't, but I think I was losing mine.
Is it because you think you might get better?
No, she said, it's because it's the only thing I have left.” Nicholas Sparks
There you go, right?
“I wonder what I will do if she doesn't wake up, and I don't have an answer. As I lie back down next to her and pull her into my arms, my stomach growls, and suddenly I know exactly what I will do. If she doesn't wake up, then I will just lie with her until I don't wake up either.” Shay Savage
Now that's a commitment.
“He cries. 'Please! I don't want to die.'
I lean over. My hair smothers him.
'Then you should never have been born,' I say.” Christopher Pike
Like any of us consented to that.
Would you give up your vengeance against someone you hate if it meant saving someone you love? Would you want your dreams to come true if it meant granting your enemy's dying wish?” Jodi Picoult
Of course, would you is one thing, should you another thing altogether.
“In Mongolia, when a dog dies, he is buried high in the hills so people cannot walk on his grave. The dog’s master whispers in the dog’s ear his wishes that the dog will return as a man in his next life. Then his tail is cut off and put beneath his head, and a piece of meat of fat is cut off and placed in his mouth to sustain his soul for its journey; before he is reincarnated, the dog’s soul is freed to travel the land, to run across the high desert plains for as long as it would like.
I learned that from a program on the National Geographic Channel, so I believe it is true. Not all dogs return as men, they say; only those who are ready.
I am ready.” Garth Stein
Oh, well, what's one more One True Path, right?
-
iambiguous
- Posts: 11317
- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
I think I had already fallen in love with Sarah Silverman. So, for obvious reasons, I’m going to love this movie.
And though I’m a big fan of Michelle Williams, I can’t think of her in any other film but Wendy and Lucy. So I pretend she is someone else. Like, say, Carey Mulligan. At the same time, I don’t really like Seth Rogen. I don’t even know why. So, for all those reasons alone, this is a complex movie for me to react to.
There must be a couple billion relationships like this one. You love and/or like your spouse but there is just something missing. Or it’s been going on now for years. Then you meet someone new [at work, in the gym, on a plane etc,] and something just sparks. Sexually, emotionally…a sharing of interests. You make each other laugh. You hardly know each other but already you feel secure enough to be a smartass. Before long you want both of them. The old and the new.
And everyone knows what it’s like when you first fall in love, right? With someone new. But sooner or later someone new becomes someone old too. And the part you loved about the old is now missing in the new. And there are parts about the new that really, really begin to irk you. But try as you might you can’t stop wanting to have them both.
There are just so many different combinations of variables here. It’s the way life is.
See if you can spot the gratuitous full frontal nudity. I spotted it immediately.
Finally, please, don't piss in the pool.
Take This Waltz
Daniel [to Margot]: Who orders milk on a plane? It’s tomato juice asshole, that’s what you order on a plane.
Well, either that or V8.
Daniel: What are you afraid of?
Margot: I’m afraid of wondering if I will miss the plane. I don’t like being inbetween things. I’m afraid of…I’m afraid of being afraid.
Daniel: Sounds like the most dangerous thing in the world.
Let's exchange skirmishes.
Margot [seemingly out of the blue]: I’m married.
Daniel: Oh. That’s too bad.
[he gets out of the taxi]
Daniel [pointing to the house across the street]: That’s too bad cause I live right here.
Margot: Oh shit.
What were the fucking odds unless one was following the other.
Margot: You look so well.
Geraldine: I know. Really. I look in the mirror and want to fuck myself.
Hmm, can I watch?
Margot: Sometimes I’m walking along the street and a shaft of sunlight falls in a certain way across the pavement and I just wanna cry. And then a second later, it’s over. I decide because I’m an adult, to not succumb to the momentary melancholy. And I thought that sometimes with Tony, she just had a moment like that. A moment of not knowing how or why, and she just let herself go into it and there was nothing anyone could do to make it any better. It was just her and the fact of being alive, colliding.
Daniel: Or maybe you just didn’t figure out what it was.
I'll never tell.
Margot: I’d like to make a date to kiss you.
Daniel: Well…my schedule’s fairly flexible.
Margot: Is it flexible in 30 years?
Daniel: 30 years?
Margot: I’d like to see you at the lighthouse in Louisbourg. I’d like to meet you there. I’ll be 58, I don’t know how old you’ll be…
Daniel: I’ll be 59.
Margot: I’d like to see you there, on this date, at…2PM. Eastern Standard time. August 5th, 2040, I’d like to kiss you. Until then, I’m married. But after 35 years of being faithful to my husband I think I’ll have earned one kiss from you.
Talk about la la land!
Margot: Lou is a really excellent cook.
Daniel: If you like chicken.
No, seriously, with him, it's chicken all the way down. And then back again.
Daniel: How was your anniversity?
Margot: It was okay.
Daniel: Okay?
Margot: Yeah. He’s…he’s the kindest, gentlest person in the world.
Daniel: He seems sweet. He seems to love you very much.
Margot: He does. And I love him.
Daniel: Is that what you came here to tell me…that you love your husband and your anniversary was okay?
Next up: Occam's razor?
Geraldine: Life has a gap in it. It just does. You don’t go crazy trying to fill it like some lunatic.
With abstractions, for example.
Lou: Hey Margot! I just bought a new melon baller and I’d like to gouge out your eyes with it.
Margot [smiles]: Yeah, me too
Lou: Bye, Margot
Margot: Bye, Lou.
You see, it’s this game they used to play. When they loved each other.
And though I’m a big fan of Michelle Williams, I can’t think of her in any other film but Wendy and Lucy. So I pretend she is someone else. Like, say, Carey Mulligan. At the same time, I don’t really like Seth Rogen. I don’t even know why. So, for all those reasons alone, this is a complex movie for me to react to.
There must be a couple billion relationships like this one. You love and/or like your spouse but there is just something missing. Or it’s been going on now for years. Then you meet someone new [at work, in the gym, on a plane etc,] and something just sparks. Sexually, emotionally…a sharing of interests. You make each other laugh. You hardly know each other but already you feel secure enough to be a smartass. Before long you want both of them. The old and the new.
And everyone knows what it’s like when you first fall in love, right? With someone new. But sooner or later someone new becomes someone old too. And the part you loved about the old is now missing in the new. And there are parts about the new that really, really begin to irk you. But try as you might you can’t stop wanting to have them both.
There are just so many different combinations of variables here. It’s the way life is.
See if you can spot the gratuitous full frontal nudity. I spotted it immediately.
Finally, please, don't piss in the pool.
Take This Waltz
Daniel [to Margot]: Who orders milk on a plane? It’s tomato juice asshole, that’s what you order on a plane.
Well, either that or V8.
Daniel: What are you afraid of?
Margot: I’m afraid of wondering if I will miss the plane. I don’t like being inbetween things. I’m afraid of…I’m afraid of being afraid.
Daniel: Sounds like the most dangerous thing in the world.
Let's exchange skirmishes.
Margot [seemingly out of the blue]: I’m married.
Daniel: Oh. That’s too bad.
[he gets out of the taxi]
Daniel [pointing to the house across the street]: That’s too bad cause I live right here.
Margot: Oh shit.
What were the fucking odds unless one was following the other.
Margot: You look so well.
Geraldine: I know. Really. I look in the mirror and want to fuck myself.
Hmm, can I watch?
Margot: Sometimes I’m walking along the street and a shaft of sunlight falls in a certain way across the pavement and I just wanna cry. And then a second later, it’s over. I decide because I’m an adult, to not succumb to the momentary melancholy. And I thought that sometimes with Tony, she just had a moment like that. A moment of not knowing how or why, and she just let herself go into it and there was nothing anyone could do to make it any better. It was just her and the fact of being alive, colliding.
Daniel: Or maybe you just didn’t figure out what it was.
I'll never tell.
Margot: I’d like to make a date to kiss you.
Daniel: Well…my schedule’s fairly flexible.
Margot: Is it flexible in 30 years?
Daniel: 30 years?
Margot: I’d like to see you at the lighthouse in Louisbourg. I’d like to meet you there. I’ll be 58, I don’t know how old you’ll be…
Daniel: I’ll be 59.
Margot: I’d like to see you there, on this date, at…2PM. Eastern Standard time. August 5th, 2040, I’d like to kiss you. Until then, I’m married. But after 35 years of being faithful to my husband I think I’ll have earned one kiss from you.
Talk about la la land!
Margot: Lou is a really excellent cook.
Daniel: If you like chicken.
No, seriously, with him, it's chicken all the way down. And then back again.
Daniel: How was your anniversity?
Margot: It was okay.
Daniel: Okay?
Margot: Yeah. He’s…he’s the kindest, gentlest person in the world.
Daniel: He seems sweet. He seems to love you very much.
Margot: He does. And I love him.
Daniel: Is that what you came here to tell me…that you love your husband and your anniversary was okay?
Next up: Occam's razor?
Geraldine: Life has a gap in it. It just does. You don’t go crazy trying to fill it like some lunatic.
With abstractions, for example.
Lou: Hey Margot! I just bought a new melon baller and I’d like to gouge out your eyes with it.
Margot [smiles]: Yeah, me too
Lou: Bye, Margot
Margot: Bye, Lou.
You see, it’s this game they used to play. When they loved each other.
-
iambiguous
- Posts: 11317
- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
I tried time and time again but could never really get into jazz. It’s just not the kind of music built around hooks built around the sort of emotional reactions I crave. I don’t experience what I seem to need listening to it. Of course, some jazz is more tuneful than others. Whatever that means. But I don’t know anything at all about creating music. Or how technically it is created by others. Such that it is deemed to be "serious music" rather than say "popular music". I am only able to react to the music that others create or play.
But I can already imagine the folks scoffing at that. Still, music is invariably a personal thing. We grow up in families and communities and cultures that tend to gravitate to certain kinds. It’s marbled through and through the fortuities of dasein.
The paradox with some musicians is this: in order to create the music they love they have to live life to the fullest. But in living life to the fullest they sometimes go out on the ledge. But out there are things that can put your life in peril. Here it’s the ravages of alcohol.
How far can you go – should you go – in making someone live the way you want him to rather than the way he wants to instead? What is for his own good? When do you just have to let go?
One thing for sure. Whenever I think of how important music is to me – very – I recognize just how much that may well pale next to the towering passion of folks like this.
And what is truly remarkable here is how all these people interact in a world that is seamlessly integrated. The subject of race simply does not come up. To these folks it is completely irrelevant. Or is made to seem to be.
"The character of Francis Borler is based on real-life person Francis Paudras who died in 1997. The character of Dale Turner played by actual jazz musician Dexter Gordon is based on a combination of real-life jazzmen Bud Powell and Lester Young. The real-life friendship between Paudras and Bud Powell has been the subject of several books." IMDb
Round Midnight
Hershell: You still playing them weird chords.
Dale: Yeah. Still at it Lady Hersh.
Hershell: You drive people wild who can’t follow the tune.
Dale: Yeah, I know.
Hershell: Then you’d be out of the business.
On the other hand, what tune?
Eddie [voiceover]: If you had seen Hershell and Dale play together, Francis, it’s something that you could never forget. They were so new and so different and yet so close. Maybe it was all those memories that made Dale leave for Paris that Friday morning. Maybe what he saw in Hershell’s eyes was too frightening and too familiar.
In other words, for these folks, maybe not.
Ace: It would be the best city in the world if I could just find some okra.
Buttercup: What the hell do you know about Paris, Ace? You don’t do nothin’ but stay in that damn room in your robe and slippers cooking all day.
Ace: At least I’m doing it in Paris.
I'll do it in Paris, if you'll do it with me.
Francis: You, Bird, Bud Powell, Lester Young…you have revolutionized music.
Next up: revolutionizing philosophy?
Dale: They’re always paying all the wrong people in this world.
Let's name names.
[Drunken man downs liquor and passes out flat on his back]
Dale [to bartender]: S’il vous plait, I would like to have the same thing he had.
I hear that.
Francis [after bringing a drunken Dale home]: Ace. Did something happen tonight?
Ace: To get him like that?
Francis: Yeah.
Ace: When you have to explore every night…even the most beautiful things that you find can be the most painful.
Must be a technical thing.
Dale: You know, one night in Brooklyn this tenor player comes in and he sits down and he listens. And then he comes up to me and says: “I play you better than you.”
In other words, if that's even possible.
Dale: Listen to that, Francis. The swing bands used to be all straight tonics seventh chords. And then, with the Basie band I heard Lester Young and he sounded like he came out of the blue. Because he was playing all the color tones the sixths and the ninths and major sevenths. You know, like Debussy and Ravel. Then Charlie Parker came on and he began to expand and he went into elevenths and thirteenths and flat fives. Luckily, I was going in the same direction already. You just don’t go out and pick a style off a tree one day. The tree is inside you growing naturally.
Don't come near me with this shit, okay? The more I think about how music is made the less I can enjoy it.
Dale: I’m tired of everything except the…the music. My life is music. My love is music. And it’s 24 hours a day.
My guess: until the day he died.
Dale: But never, never again, man. Don’t cry for me. Never again, Francis.
Francis: What else can I do…when you are killing yourself.
Dale: I’ll stop.
Francis: Stop?
Dale: I promise.
Francis: How? You never stopped before.
Dale: I never promised anybody before.
That's bullshit, I suspect.
Darcey: It was you who taught me to listen to the bass instead of the drums.
Dale: Well, you would’ve learned that in 10 to 15 years anyway.
You tell me.
Dale [to Francis]: It’s funny how the world is inside of nothing. I mean you have your heart and soul inside of you. Babies are inside of their mothers. Fish are out there… in the water. But the world…is inside of nothing. I don’t know if I like this or not, but you’d better write it down.
Going back, of course, to what all of that is inside of.
Darcey: It was you who taught me to listen to the bass instead of the drums.
Dale: Well, you would’ve learned that in 10 to 15 years anyway.
20 years tops.
Dale [voiceover]: I hope Lady Francis that we live long enough to see an avenue named after Charlie Parker. A Lester Young Park. Duke Ellington Square…and even a street named Dale Turner.
Right. It'll be like he never even died.
But I can already imagine the folks scoffing at that. Still, music is invariably a personal thing. We grow up in families and communities and cultures that tend to gravitate to certain kinds. It’s marbled through and through the fortuities of dasein.
The paradox with some musicians is this: in order to create the music they love they have to live life to the fullest. But in living life to the fullest they sometimes go out on the ledge. But out there are things that can put your life in peril. Here it’s the ravages of alcohol.
How far can you go – should you go – in making someone live the way you want him to rather than the way he wants to instead? What is for his own good? When do you just have to let go?
One thing for sure. Whenever I think of how important music is to me – very – I recognize just how much that may well pale next to the towering passion of folks like this.
And what is truly remarkable here is how all these people interact in a world that is seamlessly integrated. The subject of race simply does not come up. To these folks it is completely irrelevant. Or is made to seem to be.
"The character of Francis Borler is based on real-life person Francis Paudras who died in 1997. The character of Dale Turner played by actual jazz musician Dexter Gordon is based on a combination of real-life jazzmen Bud Powell and Lester Young. The real-life friendship between Paudras and Bud Powell has been the subject of several books." IMDb
Round Midnight
Hershell: You still playing them weird chords.
Dale: Yeah. Still at it Lady Hersh.
Hershell: You drive people wild who can’t follow the tune.
Dale: Yeah, I know.
Hershell: Then you’d be out of the business.
On the other hand, what tune?
Eddie [voiceover]: If you had seen Hershell and Dale play together, Francis, it’s something that you could never forget. They were so new and so different and yet so close. Maybe it was all those memories that made Dale leave for Paris that Friday morning. Maybe what he saw in Hershell’s eyes was too frightening and too familiar.
In other words, for these folks, maybe not.
Ace: It would be the best city in the world if I could just find some okra.
Buttercup: What the hell do you know about Paris, Ace? You don’t do nothin’ but stay in that damn room in your robe and slippers cooking all day.
Ace: At least I’m doing it in Paris.
I'll do it in Paris, if you'll do it with me.
Francis: You, Bird, Bud Powell, Lester Young…you have revolutionized music.
Next up: revolutionizing philosophy?
Dale: They’re always paying all the wrong people in this world.
Let's name names.
[Drunken man downs liquor and passes out flat on his back]
Dale [to bartender]: S’il vous plait, I would like to have the same thing he had.
I hear that.
Francis [after bringing a drunken Dale home]: Ace. Did something happen tonight?
Ace: To get him like that?
Francis: Yeah.
Ace: When you have to explore every night…even the most beautiful things that you find can be the most painful.
Must be a technical thing.
Dale: You know, one night in Brooklyn this tenor player comes in and he sits down and he listens. And then he comes up to me and says: “I play you better than you.”
In other words, if that's even possible.
Dale: Listen to that, Francis. The swing bands used to be all straight tonics seventh chords. And then, with the Basie band I heard Lester Young and he sounded like he came out of the blue. Because he was playing all the color tones the sixths and the ninths and major sevenths. You know, like Debussy and Ravel. Then Charlie Parker came on and he began to expand and he went into elevenths and thirteenths and flat fives. Luckily, I was going in the same direction already. You just don’t go out and pick a style off a tree one day. The tree is inside you growing naturally.
Don't come near me with this shit, okay? The more I think about how music is made the less I can enjoy it.
Dale: I’m tired of everything except the…the music. My life is music. My love is music. And it’s 24 hours a day.
My guess: until the day he died.
Dale: But never, never again, man. Don’t cry for me. Never again, Francis.
Francis: What else can I do…when you are killing yourself.
Dale: I’ll stop.
Francis: Stop?
Dale: I promise.
Francis: How? You never stopped before.
Dale: I never promised anybody before.
That's bullshit, I suspect.
Darcey: It was you who taught me to listen to the bass instead of the drums.
Dale: Well, you would’ve learned that in 10 to 15 years anyway.
You tell me.
Dale [to Francis]: It’s funny how the world is inside of nothing. I mean you have your heart and soul inside of you. Babies are inside of their mothers. Fish are out there… in the water. But the world…is inside of nothing. I don’t know if I like this or not, but you’d better write it down.
Going back, of course, to what all of that is inside of.
Darcey: It was you who taught me to listen to the bass instead of the drums.
Dale: Well, you would’ve learned that in 10 to 15 years anyway.
20 years tops.
Dale [voiceover]: I hope Lady Francis that we live long enough to see an avenue named after Charlie Parker. A Lester Young Park. Duke Ellington Square…and even a street named Dale Turner.
Right. It'll be like he never even died.
-
iambiguous
- Posts: 11317
- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
Philosophy
“The longing for Paradise is man's longing not to be man.” Milan Kundera
You know, when you can't afford the operation.
“Between living and dreaming there is a third thing. Guess it.” Antonio Machado
New thread?
“Philosophizing is simply one way of being afraid, a cowardly pretense that doesn't get you anywhere.” Louis-Ferdinand Celine
See, I told you.
“Nothing important is learned; it is simply remembered." Carlos Ruiz Zafón
Right, and what could one possibly have to do with the other?
“We are the sum of all people we have ever met; you change the tribe and the tribe changes you.” Dirk Wittenborn
On the other hand: https://youtu.be/uyHM7W8drg4?si=1xl49LhKx_07YJje
“There is not much to be got anywhere in the world. It is filled with misery and pain; if a man escapes these, boredom lies in wait for him at every corner. Nay more; it is evil which generally has the upper hand, and folly that makes the most noise. Fate is cruel and mankind pitiable.” Arthur Schopenhauer
I suppose even he had good days.
“The longing for Paradise is man's longing not to be man.” Milan Kundera
You know, when you can't afford the operation.
“Between living and dreaming there is a third thing. Guess it.” Antonio Machado
New thread?
“Philosophizing is simply one way of being afraid, a cowardly pretense that doesn't get you anywhere.” Louis-Ferdinand Celine
See, I told you.
“Nothing important is learned; it is simply remembered." Carlos Ruiz Zafón
Right, and what could one possibly have to do with the other?
“We are the sum of all people we have ever met; you change the tribe and the tribe changes you.” Dirk Wittenborn
On the other hand: https://youtu.be/uyHM7W8drg4?si=1xl49LhKx_07YJje
“There is not much to be got anywhere in the world. It is filled with misery and pain; if a man escapes these, boredom lies in wait for him at every corner. Nay more; it is evil which generally has the upper hand, and folly that makes the most noise. Fate is cruel and mankind pitiable.” Arthur Schopenhauer
I suppose even he had good days.
-
iambiguous
- Posts: 11317
- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
Birdy. That’s it. Throughout the entire film he is Birdy. His “real name” is never revealed. The guy was obsessed with birds. Even before he got his mind all fucked up in Vietnam. The “weird kid”.
Of course it was flying that obsessed him. Flying over all the shit down here, for example. But that’s probably just me projecting him into my own obsession.
In the novel, it was WWII…here it is Vietnam. And that makes all the difference in the world to some folks.
The human mind. The places it can go. I recall the first time I saw this film. It was with a bunch of friends. And one of them had a young daughter who was watching it with us. We come to the scene at the rendering plant. Suddenly the little girl realizes what is going to happen to the dogs they caught. She begins to shriek and wail. Really, really loud. She’s hysterical. I’d never seen anything quite like it. Her mom can only whisk her away and take her upstairs. It traumatized her for the longest time. Then I lost contact. But I go back to it from time to time while ruminating about dasein. I still wonder about her.
As for the ending, don’t get me started. Let’s just say it’s not a question of whether it is upbeat or not. More like, what the fuck does it have to do with all the stuff I just spent two hours watching?
Birdy
Birdy: Do you like pigeons?
Al: What’s to like?
Birdy: They fly.
Al: They fly. So what?
Birdy: That’s enough.
You might be wondering if he could.
Al: Jesus, Birdy, what happened to you? That fat-gut shrink, he wants me to jog your brain by getting you to remember things we did together. Did we jack one another off? Stuff like that.
So, did they?
Birdy [reacting to Al extolling the female breast]: I seen a picture in National Geographic, Al. They’re just like on a cow, but in a more stupid place.
I can't think of a better place myself. Besides, where would he put them?
Birdy: You ever wondered what our lives down here must look like to a bird, Al?
Let's run that by Gary Larson.
Al: Maybe life is shitty, Birdy. It is shitty. I’ll tell you something. I’m not trying to pin life anymore. I don’t even fucking understand it. I just want to make it through with some dignity, like everybody else. Of course, if there was any real dignity, there wouldn’t be any sex.
Let alone pornography.
Birdy [at school]: Flying is much more than flapping wings. A bird can flap its wings and not move an inch then when it wants to fly the slightest flick of its wings sends it up against the sky. You have to feel that air has substance and can hold you up. It’s mostly a matter of confidence.
Or pathology?
Al [to himself watching disabled vets in the gym]: Funny, in any other war we would have been heroes. Oh, man! We didn’t know what we were getting into with this John Wayne shit. Boy, were we dumb.
Well, that and the draft.
Birdy [to himself]: It occurs to me that all I did was put two birds in the aviary. Food and water and nothing else, and now there are four of them. I know this is perfectly natural. It’s one of the things life is about. But to see it happen in my bedroom…under my own eyes…is magic. All I want to do now is watch the birds.
Birds have always bored me for some reason. Well, not counting the really, really big ones of course.
Birdy [to himself]: The dream is as real to me now as my waking life. I don’t know where one begins and the other ends. In my dreams nothing holds me down. Everything is out and away. There’s nothing in my life to keep me here anymore. I wish I could die and be born again as a bird.
Next up: that fucking ending.
Or am I the one here missing the point?
Birdy: Last night I flew. I really know what it feels like to fly.
Al: Oh, you flew? How?
Birdy: Well, I’m not sure. It’s not something you can really take apart. When I fly, it’s like in a dream. Only it’s not a dream. The thing is, Al, you can’t really put it into words. You just kind of have to feel it.
Al: You’re telling me you can fly like a bird?
Birdy: When I fly, Al… I am a bird.
Al: This is getting too weird, Birdy. You gotta stop it with this.
Birdy: I thought if anybody would understand it would be you, Al.
Al: Well, I don’t. I don’t even wanna hear about it.
Birdy: Why?
Al [shouting]: Because I’m tired of it! We used to have fun together. Now you are always off by yourself flying around inside your goddamn head! I hope this dream or whatever it is goes away. I think it’s bullshit!!
In fact, what if that is precisely what it was?
Birdy [to a surprised Al, who was expecting to see him dead after “flying” off the roof]: What?
What, indeed.
Of course it was flying that obsessed him. Flying over all the shit down here, for example. But that’s probably just me projecting him into my own obsession.
In the novel, it was WWII…here it is Vietnam. And that makes all the difference in the world to some folks.
The human mind. The places it can go. I recall the first time I saw this film. It was with a bunch of friends. And one of them had a young daughter who was watching it with us. We come to the scene at the rendering plant. Suddenly the little girl realizes what is going to happen to the dogs they caught. She begins to shriek and wail. Really, really loud. She’s hysterical. I’d never seen anything quite like it. Her mom can only whisk her away and take her upstairs. It traumatized her for the longest time. Then I lost contact. But I go back to it from time to time while ruminating about dasein. I still wonder about her.
As for the ending, don’t get me started. Let’s just say it’s not a question of whether it is upbeat or not. More like, what the fuck does it have to do with all the stuff I just spent two hours watching?
Birdy
Birdy: Do you like pigeons?
Al: What’s to like?
Birdy: They fly.
Al: They fly. So what?
Birdy: That’s enough.
You might be wondering if he could.
Al: Jesus, Birdy, what happened to you? That fat-gut shrink, he wants me to jog your brain by getting you to remember things we did together. Did we jack one another off? Stuff like that.
So, did they?
Birdy [reacting to Al extolling the female breast]: I seen a picture in National Geographic, Al. They’re just like on a cow, but in a more stupid place.
I can't think of a better place myself. Besides, where would he put them?
Birdy: You ever wondered what our lives down here must look like to a bird, Al?
Let's run that by Gary Larson.
Al: Maybe life is shitty, Birdy. It is shitty. I’ll tell you something. I’m not trying to pin life anymore. I don’t even fucking understand it. I just want to make it through with some dignity, like everybody else. Of course, if there was any real dignity, there wouldn’t be any sex.
Let alone pornography.
Birdy [at school]: Flying is much more than flapping wings. A bird can flap its wings and not move an inch then when it wants to fly the slightest flick of its wings sends it up against the sky. You have to feel that air has substance and can hold you up. It’s mostly a matter of confidence.
Or pathology?
Al [to himself watching disabled vets in the gym]: Funny, in any other war we would have been heroes. Oh, man! We didn’t know what we were getting into with this John Wayne shit. Boy, were we dumb.
Well, that and the draft.
Birdy [to himself]: It occurs to me that all I did was put two birds in the aviary. Food and water and nothing else, and now there are four of them. I know this is perfectly natural. It’s one of the things life is about. But to see it happen in my bedroom…under my own eyes…is magic. All I want to do now is watch the birds.
Birds have always bored me for some reason. Well, not counting the really, really big ones of course.
Birdy [to himself]: The dream is as real to me now as my waking life. I don’t know where one begins and the other ends. In my dreams nothing holds me down. Everything is out and away. There’s nothing in my life to keep me here anymore. I wish I could die and be born again as a bird.
Next up: that fucking ending.
Or am I the one here missing the point?
Birdy: Last night I flew. I really know what it feels like to fly.
Al: Oh, you flew? How?
Birdy: Well, I’m not sure. It’s not something you can really take apart. When I fly, it’s like in a dream. Only it’s not a dream. The thing is, Al, you can’t really put it into words. You just kind of have to feel it.
Al: You’re telling me you can fly like a bird?
Birdy: When I fly, Al… I am a bird.
Al: This is getting too weird, Birdy. You gotta stop it with this.
Birdy: I thought if anybody would understand it would be you, Al.
Al: Well, I don’t. I don’t even wanna hear about it.
Birdy: Why?
Al [shouting]: Because I’m tired of it! We used to have fun together. Now you are always off by yourself flying around inside your goddamn head! I hope this dream or whatever it is goes away. I think it’s bullshit!!
In fact, what if that is precisely what it was?
Birdy [to a surprised Al, who was expecting to see him dead after “flying” off the roof]: What?
What, indeed.
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iambiguous
- Posts: 11317
- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
A film depicting the only open revolt that had ever taken place at Auschwitz. It is based on a true story.
A film posing the question [as so many like this do]: What would you do?
There are many, many variables that come into play here, but I always make the distinction between those who do and those who do not believe in God. It just seems easier to do the “right thing” if you expect to be rewarded for it by God [and for all eternity] after you die. If on the other hand you believe that this life is all there is, then it is not unreasonable [to me] to start from the premise that one should do whatever it takes to stay alive. Recognizing that others will draw this line in different places. So there will be consequences you might have to accept for the things you choose to do.
Here, your life is extended by four months if you cooperate. You figure a lot can happen in four months. For example, the war might end. It’s 1944 afterall. But as you get closer to extermination yourself you figure what have you got to lose? Go out with a bang. Besides, given what you do for the Nazis, wouldn’t it be unbearable to live anyway? How could you face your families, friends and loved ones. On the other hand, if you are dead you won’t face anyone ever again anyway.
There is really no way to take these things in without God. It’s all just incomprehendable, unbearable without some transcending point of view to dump it all on. And I don’t have access to that. And this particular one is nothing less than ghastly. It’s so far beyond words you just end up sputtering. The arguments we have here about morality seem utterly surreal in this context.
A 90%/scale reproduction of the Auschwitz/Birkenau death camp was constructed near Sofia, Bulgaria, for the shooting of this film. The actual plans for the original Auschwitz camp were used to build the set. IMDb
The Grey Zone
Title card: As a part of the final solution, the Nazis employed “special units” known as Sonderkommondos, to aid in the extermination process at Thrid Rech death camps. These Jewish males ushered victims into the gas chambers, and processed their corpses after gassings. In exchange for their work, they received priveileges unheard by camp standards, before being exterminated themselves after four months.
Whatever works, I always say. And how fucking bleak is that?
Mengele: This isn’t our war.
Doctor Nyiszli: Not mine.
Mengele: Nor mine. I can assure you. But, to allow this all to go to waste.
Doctor Nyiszli: I understand your position.
Mengele: Clearly you do more than that.
Doctor Nyiszli: As you wish.
Mengele: Meaning?
Doctor Nyiszli: There is no meaning.
Mengele: We’re going to be increasing the volume of our research.
Doctor Nyiszli: I shall need more staff.
Mengele: Then you shall have more staff.
Of course: God's mysterious ways.
Woman #1: If they find us, what do they do with the rest of our group?
Woman #2: You’re risking your own life.
Woman #1: Why should we risk theirs?
Woman #3: You both act like we put everyone in here. I don’t make you do anything. Be like them, both of you.
Woman #1: That isn’t what she’s saying.
Woman # 3: The whole barracks will be punished. They’ll be before they’re killed. Just like us. What’s the fucking difference when you’re dead anyway?
Woman #2: We made the choice, they haven’t.
Woman #3: I’m not listening to this anymore.
Ah, the agony of choice in the face of uncertainty.
Hersh: Escape.
Max: Wait. Who? Us? You think you think we’ll escape? Even get past two kilometers from here?
Hersh: With guns.
Max: So we kill more of them. Destroy three of the crematorium.
Hersh: And get out.
Max: Is that what you’re after?
Hersh: If I get the chance, fuck yes.
Max: You tell them, if this is about escape, we’re out.
Hoffman: How can you speak for all of us?
Hersh: You gonna speak for yourself?
Max: Are you serious? What, you’re gonna go back to your normal life? Forget that. The point is it doesn’t make any sense.
Hersh: You live to tell.
Max:You’re not going to live. You won’t make it to the Vistula.
Hersh: Others have made it.
Simon: Others from the camp, not from the kommandos. They’ll give up on someone from Buna, or the camp, but not anyone who’s been inside the crematorium. What we could tell they’ll turn Poland upside down. If we want to accomplish anything, it has to be one thing. One end. And that’s destroying the machinery.
Like they can't manufacture more.
Hoffman: No one would make it.
Max: Even suppose you do, do you want to look anyone in the face, if any of your family is still alive? What you’ve done for a little more life…for vodka and linens.
Of course, at least we know what the one and only right thing to do is.
Hoffman [outside the gas chamber]: You’re all fine! The quicker you get undressed, the quicker you’ll be clean, settled and reunited with your families.
Morris: Filthy liar.
Hoffman: Remember the number of the hook you hang your clothes on!
Morris: He’s a liar! I can’t believe it’s Jews doing this!
On the other hand: "Or else!"
Hersh: This is the Germans we are talking about. They stand corpses in the snow to get the proper count. Don’t fuck this up for one life! You’ll be shot on the spot and so will she. Then there’s an alert and our plans become impossible.
Simon: He’s right Max.
Hersh: It’ll drag us down. No single person is worth that. Look at her? Does she even have a mind left? Can she speak?
Doctor: We don’t know.
Max: We don’t kill people.
Hersh: We don’t? We put them in rooms, walk them in and strip them–look them in the face and say it’s safe.
Max: It’s not pulling the trigger.
Hersh: It’s locking them in. You leave the room. You bring them in–say it’s safe, you’ll see them when it’s over. Who put her inside? Now you think she made it through. God knows how you’re a hero.
Max: Not a hero. Not a hero, not a killer.
Hersh: What are you, Max? Better we do it than them?
Thank God for juddgment Day?
Muhsfeldt: I never fully despised the Jews until I experienced how easily they could be persuaded to do the work here. To do it so well. And to their own people! They’ll be dead by week’s end, every soul. And we’ll replace them with others no different. Do you know how easy that will be?
Click?
Hoffman [to the little girl]: I used to think so much of myself… What I’d make of my life. We can’t know what we’re capable of, any of us. How can you know what you’d do to stay alive, until you’re really asked? I know this now. For most of us, the answer…is anything.
Damn, what if that is actually true?
Muhsfeldt: Dr. Mengele says you’re the best surgeon he’s seen ever. A Jew, even, and he admits it. Which is astonishing. He says you do the work of five men. That without you his research would be impossible.
Doctor Nyiszli: Where is this leading?
Muhsfeldt: Your expertise has quintupled the torture.
Doctor Nyiszli: I haven’t…
Muhsfeldt: Has quintupled the torture of children in this camp, and that is fact! So that you can live here as you do, which is better than any other Jew. And better than all but a handful of Germans. Including me. I haven’t seen you once protest and as the workload has increased. And you’ve saved your family. We do what we do. You make up for that with the life of this one girl?
Doctor Nyiszli: I don’t pretend.
Muhsfeldt: Good. Don’t. And who is to die in her place? No one lives here without someone else dying.
Doctor Nyiszli: I don’t believe that.
Muhsfeldt: It’s a fact of the camp. It’s numbers. There’s only so much food, so much room.
Doctor Nyiszli: This is one child.
Muhsfeldt: Which you could say about anyone. Your wife and daughter. You save one, you take the life of another. Put her in a bed, give her food someone else doesn’t get, dies or is removed. To save her is a meaningless lie.
Doctor Nyiszli: It’s your lie, Herr Oberschaarfuhrer. We want the girl to live.
Muhsfeldt: If you tell me this information, I will spare the girl.
Sophie's choice, let's call it.
Gestapo Interrogator [executing prisoners]: I could say that I don’t want to be doing this, but that wouldn’t be true.
What could you say?
Girl [voiceover]: After the revolt, half the ovens remain, and we are carried to them together. I catch fire, quickly. The first part of me rises, in dense smoke, that mingles with the smoke of others. Then there are the bones, which settle in ash, and these are swept up to be carried to the river. And last, bits of our dust, that simply float there, in air, around the working of the new group…These bits of dust are grey. We settle on their shoes, and on their faces, and in their lungs. And they become so used to us, that soon they don’t cough, and they don’t brush us away. At this point, they are just moving, breathing and moving, like anyone else, still alive in that place. And this is how the work…continues.
And, for some, to this day.
Title card: Dr Miklos Nyiszli survived internment. He died of natural causes a decade after his release from the camps, never having practiced medicine again. His wife died in the late 1970’s. The whereabouts of his daughter are unknown.
Just for the record as it were.
Title card: Of thirteen consecutive units of Sonderkommandos at Auschwitz, the twelfth rebelled. Its members destroyed nearly half the ovens. These ovens were never rebuilt.
And then those here hell bent on rebuilding them, and then some.
A film posing the question [as so many like this do]: What would you do?
There are many, many variables that come into play here, but I always make the distinction between those who do and those who do not believe in God. It just seems easier to do the “right thing” if you expect to be rewarded for it by God [and for all eternity] after you die. If on the other hand you believe that this life is all there is, then it is not unreasonable [to me] to start from the premise that one should do whatever it takes to stay alive. Recognizing that others will draw this line in different places. So there will be consequences you might have to accept for the things you choose to do.
Here, your life is extended by four months if you cooperate. You figure a lot can happen in four months. For example, the war might end. It’s 1944 afterall. But as you get closer to extermination yourself you figure what have you got to lose? Go out with a bang. Besides, given what you do for the Nazis, wouldn’t it be unbearable to live anyway? How could you face your families, friends and loved ones. On the other hand, if you are dead you won’t face anyone ever again anyway.
There is really no way to take these things in without God. It’s all just incomprehendable, unbearable without some transcending point of view to dump it all on. And I don’t have access to that. And this particular one is nothing less than ghastly. It’s so far beyond words you just end up sputtering. The arguments we have here about morality seem utterly surreal in this context.
A 90%/scale reproduction of the Auschwitz/Birkenau death camp was constructed near Sofia, Bulgaria, for the shooting of this film. The actual plans for the original Auschwitz camp were used to build the set. IMDb
The Grey Zone
Title card: As a part of the final solution, the Nazis employed “special units” known as Sonderkommondos, to aid in the extermination process at Thrid Rech death camps. These Jewish males ushered victims into the gas chambers, and processed their corpses after gassings. In exchange for their work, they received priveileges unheard by camp standards, before being exterminated themselves after four months.
Whatever works, I always say. And how fucking bleak is that?
Mengele: This isn’t our war.
Doctor Nyiszli: Not mine.
Mengele: Nor mine. I can assure you. But, to allow this all to go to waste.
Doctor Nyiszli: I understand your position.
Mengele: Clearly you do more than that.
Doctor Nyiszli: As you wish.
Mengele: Meaning?
Doctor Nyiszli: There is no meaning.
Mengele: We’re going to be increasing the volume of our research.
Doctor Nyiszli: I shall need more staff.
Mengele: Then you shall have more staff.
Of course: God's mysterious ways.
Woman #1: If they find us, what do they do with the rest of our group?
Woman #2: You’re risking your own life.
Woman #1: Why should we risk theirs?
Woman #3: You both act like we put everyone in here. I don’t make you do anything. Be like them, both of you.
Woman #1: That isn’t what she’s saying.
Woman # 3: The whole barracks will be punished. They’ll be before they’re killed. Just like us. What’s the fucking difference when you’re dead anyway?
Woman #2: We made the choice, they haven’t.
Woman #3: I’m not listening to this anymore.
Ah, the agony of choice in the face of uncertainty.
Hersh: Escape.
Max: Wait. Who? Us? You think you think we’ll escape? Even get past two kilometers from here?
Hersh: With guns.
Max: So we kill more of them. Destroy three of the crematorium.
Hersh: And get out.
Max: Is that what you’re after?
Hersh: If I get the chance, fuck yes.
Max: You tell them, if this is about escape, we’re out.
Hoffman: How can you speak for all of us?
Hersh: You gonna speak for yourself?
Max: Are you serious? What, you’re gonna go back to your normal life? Forget that. The point is it doesn’t make any sense.
Hersh: You live to tell.
Max:You’re not going to live. You won’t make it to the Vistula.
Hersh: Others have made it.
Simon: Others from the camp, not from the kommandos. They’ll give up on someone from Buna, or the camp, but not anyone who’s been inside the crematorium. What we could tell they’ll turn Poland upside down. If we want to accomplish anything, it has to be one thing. One end. And that’s destroying the machinery.
Like they can't manufacture more.
Hoffman: No one would make it.
Max: Even suppose you do, do you want to look anyone in the face, if any of your family is still alive? What you’ve done for a little more life…for vodka and linens.
Of course, at least we know what the one and only right thing to do is.
Hoffman [outside the gas chamber]: You’re all fine! The quicker you get undressed, the quicker you’ll be clean, settled and reunited with your families.
Morris: Filthy liar.
Hoffman: Remember the number of the hook you hang your clothes on!
Morris: He’s a liar! I can’t believe it’s Jews doing this!
On the other hand: "Or else!"
Hersh: This is the Germans we are talking about. They stand corpses in the snow to get the proper count. Don’t fuck this up for one life! You’ll be shot on the spot and so will she. Then there’s an alert and our plans become impossible.
Simon: He’s right Max.
Hersh: It’ll drag us down. No single person is worth that. Look at her? Does she even have a mind left? Can she speak?
Doctor: We don’t know.
Max: We don’t kill people.
Hersh: We don’t? We put them in rooms, walk them in and strip them–look them in the face and say it’s safe.
Max: It’s not pulling the trigger.
Hersh: It’s locking them in. You leave the room. You bring them in–say it’s safe, you’ll see them when it’s over. Who put her inside? Now you think she made it through. God knows how you’re a hero.
Max: Not a hero. Not a hero, not a killer.
Hersh: What are you, Max? Better we do it than them?
Thank God for juddgment Day?
Muhsfeldt: I never fully despised the Jews until I experienced how easily they could be persuaded to do the work here. To do it so well. And to their own people! They’ll be dead by week’s end, every soul. And we’ll replace them with others no different. Do you know how easy that will be?
Click?
Hoffman [to the little girl]: I used to think so much of myself… What I’d make of my life. We can’t know what we’re capable of, any of us. How can you know what you’d do to stay alive, until you’re really asked? I know this now. For most of us, the answer…is anything.
Damn, what if that is actually true?
Muhsfeldt: Dr. Mengele says you’re the best surgeon he’s seen ever. A Jew, even, and he admits it. Which is astonishing. He says you do the work of five men. That without you his research would be impossible.
Doctor Nyiszli: Where is this leading?
Muhsfeldt: Your expertise has quintupled the torture.
Doctor Nyiszli: I haven’t…
Muhsfeldt: Has quintupled the torture of children in this camp, and that is fact! So that you can live here as you do, which is better than any other Jew. And better than all but a handful of Germans. Including me. I haven’t seen you once protest and as the workload has increased. And you’ve saved your family. We do what we do. You make up for that with the life of this one girl?
Doctor Nyiszli: I don’t pretend.
Muhsfeldt: Good. Don’t. And who is to die in her place? No one lives here without someone else dying.
Doctor Nyiszli: I don’t believe that.
Muhsfeldt: It’s a fact of the camp. It’s numbers. There’s only so much food, so much room.
Doctor Nyiszli: This is one child.
Muhsfeldt: Which you could say about anyone. Your wife and daughter. You save one, you take the life of another. Put her in a bed, give her food someone else doesn’t get, dies or is removed. To save her is a meaningless lie.
Doctor Nyiszli: It’s your lie, Herr Oberschaarfuhrer. We want the girl to live.
Muhsfeldt: If you tell me this information, I will spare the girl.
Sophie's choice, let's call it.
Gestapo Interrogator [executing prisoners]: I could say that I don’t want to be doing this, but that wouldn’t be true.
What could you say?
Girl [voiceover]: After the revolt, half the ovens remain, and we are carried to them together. I catch fire, quickly. The first part of me rises, in dense smoke, that mingles with the smoke of others. Then there are the bones, which settle in ash, and these are swept up to be carried to the river. And last, bits of our dust, that simply float there, in air, around the working of the new group…These bits of dust are grey. We settle on their shoes, and on their faces, and in their lungs. And they become so used to us, that soon they don’t cough, and they don’t brush us away. At this point, they are just moving, breathing and moving, like anyone else, still alive in that place. And this is how the work…continues.
And, for some, to this day.
Title card: Dr Miklos Nyiszli survived internment. He died of natural causes a decade after his release from the camps, never having practiced medicine again. His wife died in the late 1970’s. The whereabouts of his daughter are unknown.
Just for the record as it were.
Title card: Of thirteen consecutive units of Sonderkommandos at Auschwitz, the twelfth rebelled. Its members destroyed nearly half the ovens. These ovens were never rebuilt.
And then those here hell bent on rebuilding them, and then some.
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iambiguous
- Posts: 11317
- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
Ottessa Moshfegh from My Year of Rest and Relaxation
Rejection, I have found, can be the only antidote to delusion.
Then the part where practice makes perfect.
Oh, sleep. Nothing else could ever bring me such pleasure, such freedom, the power to feel and move and think and imagine, safe from the miseries of my waking consciousness.
Dream on, in other words.
It was proof that I had not always been completely alone in this world. But I think I was also holding on to the loss, to the emptiness of the house itself, as though to affirm that it was better to be alone than to be stuck with people who were supposed to love you, yet couldn’t.
A hell of a lot better.
On September 11, I went out and bought a new TV/VCR at Best Buy so I could record the news coverage of the planes crashing into the Twin Towers. Trevor was on a honeymoon in Barbados, I'd later learn, but Reva was lost. Reva was gone. I watched the videotape over and over to soothe myself that day. And I continue to watch it, usually on a lonely afternoon, or any other time I doubt that life is worth living, or when I need courage, or when I am bored. Each time I see the woman leap off the seventy-eighth floor of the North Tower—one high-heeled shoe slipping off and hovering up over her, the other stuck on her foot as though it were too small, her blouse untucked, hair flailing, limbs stiff as she plummets down, one arm raised, like a dive into a summer lake—I am overcome by awe, not because she looks like Reva, and I think it's her, almost exactly her, and not because Reva and I had been friends, or because I'll never see her again, but because she is beautiful. There she is, a human being, diving into the unknown, and she is wide awake.
Let's make of that what we will.
I was both relieved and irritated when Reva showed up, the way you'd feel if someone interrupted you in the middle of suicide.
Try, try again?
Sometimes I feel dead, I told her, and I hate everybody.
She just nodded and walked on.
Rejection, I have found, can be the only antidote to delusion.
Then the part where practice makes perfect.
Oh, sleep. Nothing else could ever bring me such pleasure, such freedom, the power to feel and move and think and imagine, safe from the miseries of my waking consciousness.
Dream on, in other words.
It was proof that I had not always been completely alone in this world. But I think I was also holding on to the loss, to the emptiness of the house itself, as though to affirm that it was better to be alone than to be stuck with people who were supposed to love you, yet couldn’t.
A hell of a lot better.
On September 11, I went out and bought a new TV/VCR at Best Buy so I could record the news coverage of the planes crashing into the Twin Towers. Trevor was on a honeymoon in Barbados, I'd later learn, but Reva was lost. Reva was gone. I watched the videotape over and over to soothe myself that day. And I continue to watch it, usually on a lonely afternoon, or any other time I doubt that life is worth living, or when I need courage, or when I am bored. Each time I see the woman leap off the seventy-eighth floor of the North Tower—one high-heeled shoe slipping off and hovering up over her, the other stuck on her foot as though it were too small, her blouse untucked, hair flailing, limbs stiff as she plummets down, one arm raised, like a dive into a summer lake—I am overcome by awe, not because she looks like Reva, and I think it's her, almost exactly her, and not because Reva and I had been friends, or because I'll never see her again, but because she is beautiful. There she is, a human being, diving into the unknown, and she is wide awake.
Let's make of that what we will.
I was both relieved and irritated when Reva showed up, the way you'd feel if someone interrupted you in the middle of suicide.
Try, try again?
Sometimes I feel dead, I told her, and I hate everybody.
She just nodded and walked on.
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iambiguous
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- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
A segmented movie in which the characters more or less interact around a theme of your own making.
My theme of course is always narratives derived from circumstances that each of us experience individually in an overlapping world intertwining millions of them. You think, that’s what I would do…or that’s not what I would do. Or why in the world would someone do that…or put up with that…or not try something different.
For example, I would never in a million years consult someone to examine my life through tarot cards. And yet I’m amazed at how much her “reading” is applicable to my life. That's what they're good at.
To the best of my recollection, this is one of the few movies I’ve seen [maybe the only one] where a woman becomes pregnant, doesn’t want to be, opts for an abortion and has one – with almost no discussion of the “moral consequences”. Matter of factly? Well, she does cry afterwards but I think that’s more because of the things Nancy told her about herself.
So, what can you tell just by looking at her? Probably just those things that manage to confirm your prejudices anyway.
A Braille book that Carol Faber reads is “One Hundred Years of Solitude” by Gabriel García Márquez who happens to be the father of Rodrigo García, this film’s director. IMDb
Things You Can Tell Just By Looking At her
Nancy [a bag lady]: What does your husband think about this?
Rebecca: I don’t have a husband.
Nancy: Of course you do. Show me your ring finger.
[Rebecca shows Nancy her left hand]
Nancy: Are you a lesbian?
Depends on the role?
Nancy: I want to walk away with the rest of your cigarettes. You can send one of your assistants to buy you more. You have men working under you?
Rebecca: Yes.
Nancy: Send one of them. They’ll hate you for it…but they’ll jack off thinking about you anyway. Thank you for your time. Have a nice day.
Here, though, you never really know.
Doctor Keener [to Rebecca having an abortion]: Don’t look down.
You're wondering why, right?
Lilly [to Christine]: But I’m scared because I’ve heard that when people are very ill and they suddenly feel better, it sometimes means that the end is near. It’s like the body makes one last effort before losing the battle altogether.
Yes, yes, I'm getting there.
Carol: God says to Adam, Adam, I have something for you, but it’s gonna cost you an arm and a leg. Adam thinks for a moment, then decides, What can you give me for a rib?
Kathy: That’s funny. Where’d you hear it?
Carol: From the Bible.
The unabridged Bible, in other words.
June: Do you live alone?
Carol: No. I live with my sister. She’s a detective.
June: That’s cool. Is she single like you?
Carol: Yes.
June: She’s not blind, of course. Why isn’t she married?
Carol: I guess she just hasn’t found the right man yet.
June: Maybe she didn’t wanna leave you all alone. Is that it? That would be wrong, of course. I think a blind person is perfectly capable of living on her own. Don’t you?
Oh, yeah.
Carol [to Kathy, imagining why Carmen committed suicide]: …maybe she was just tired of dead ends, phone calls that were never returned, promises that were never kept, tripping over the same stone. I guess we’ll never know what she was thinking. It’s just as well. These are the things that can’t be shared.
Of course, for all practical purposes, it might be almost anything, right?
My theme of course is always narratives derived from circumstances that each of us experience individually in an overlapping world intertwining millions of them. You think, that’s what I would do…or that’s not what I would do. Or why in the world would someone do that…or put up with that…or not try something different.
For example, I would never in a million years consult someone to examine my life through tarot cards. And yet I’m amazed at how much her “reading” is applicable to my life. That's what they're good at.
To the best of my recollection, this is one of the few movies I’ve seen [maybe the only one] where a woman becomes pregnant, doesn’t want to be, opts for an abortion and has one – with almost no discussion of the “moral consequences”. Matter of factly? Well, she does cry afterwards but I think that’s more because of the things Nancy told her about herself.
So, what can you tell just by looking at her? Probably just those things that manage to confirm your prejudices anyway.
A Braille book that Carol Faber reads is “One Hundred Years of Solitude” by Gabriel García Márquez who happens to be the father of Rodrigo García, this film’s director. IMDb
Things You Can Tell Just By Looking At her
Nancy [a bag lady]: What does your husband think about this?
Rebecca: I don’t have a husband.
Nancy: Of course you do. Show me your ring finger.
[Rebecca shows Nancy her left hand]
Nancy: Are you a lesbian?
Depends on the role?
Nancy: I want to walk away with the rest of your cigarettes. You can send one of your assistants to buy you more. You have men working under you?
Rebecca: Yes.
Nancy: Send one of them. They’ll hate you for it…but they’ll jack off thinking about you anyway. Thank you for your time. Have a nice day.
Here, though, you never really know.
Doctor Keener [to Rebecca having an abortion]: Don’t look down.
You're wondering why, right?
Lilly [to Christine]: But I’m scared because I’ve heard that when people are very ill and they suddenly feel better, it sometimes means that the end is near. It’s like the body makes one last effort before losing the battle altogether.
Yes, yes, I'm getting there.
Carol: God says to Adam, Adam, I have something for you, but it’s gonna cost you an arm and a leg. Adam thinks for a moment, then decides, What can you give me for a rib?
Kathy: That’s funny. Where’d you hear it?
Carol: From the Bible.
The unabridged Bible, in other words.
June: Do you live alone?
Carol: No. I live with my sister. She’s a detective.
June: That’s cool. Is she single like you?
Carol: Yes.
June: She’s not blind, of course. Why isn’t she married?
Carol: I guess she just hasn’t found the right man yet.
June: Maybe she didn’t wanna leave you all alone. Is that it? That would be wrong, of course. I think a blind person is perfectly capable of living on her own. Don’t you?
Oh, yeah.
Carol [to Kathy, imagining why Carmen committed suicide]: …maybe she was just tired of dead ends, phone calls that were never returned, promises that were never kept, tripping over the same stone. I guess we’ll never know what she was thinking. It’s just as well. These are the things that can’t be shared.
Of course, for all practical purposes, it might be almost anything, right?
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iambiguous
- Posts: 11317
- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
Out of the blue and then out in the middle of nowhere two sociopaths invade a family’s home and kill everyone. In cold blood.
That’s when lots of folks back then realized that, for all intents and purposes, no one was really safe. And nothing has changed since, right?
And it’s how all those dots can get connected. Some guy in a prison cell tells another guy in there with him about a safe in the house of a guy he once worked for. The guy who is told gets out and tells his buddy. But there is no safe. And four human beings are slaughtered. And there could have been two more if Dick and Perry had arrived when Bobby was there…or if the daughter’s friend had decided to spend the night. That spooky part of human interaction we can never quite pin down.
And then there is Floyd Wells. He started the ball rolling and then was instrumental in bringing it all to a stop.
In part the film explores the makings of “the crininal mind”. All the pieces from the past that get crammed inside the heads of some folks but not in the heads of others. It’s all overwhelming then and is still all overwhelming today. There are just too many different variables that can be understood in too many different ways.
Look for the word “bullshit”. This is the first time it was ever used in a Hollywood film.
To get the authenticity he wanted, Richard Brooks filmed in all the actual locations including the Clutter house (where the murders took place) and the actual courtroom (6 of the actual jurors were used). Even Nancy Clutter’s horse Babe was used in a few scenes. The actual gallows at the Kansas State Penitentiary were used for filming the executions, however, in a 2002 interview, Charles McAtee (who was State Corrections Director for Kansas in the 1960’s), clarified the hangman in the film was an actor, not the real deal.
The two pairs of eyes pictured on the movie poster are those of the real killers, not the actors portraying them. IMDb
In Cold Blood
Dick: Them birds don’t know it, but this is their last day on Earth.
Not unlike the Clutters.
Dick: Four hundred miles west of here, Big Daddy Clutter’s place. That’s the layout. The works. Somewhere in that office, in one little old safe. And inside that safe, $10,000…maybe more.
Perry: You’ve seen it?
Dick: The safe? Right after you left the zoo, a new guy moved into the cell. Floyd Wells, serving three to five for robbery. He once worked for Clutter. He saw it.
Dick: And that’s your perfect score?
Of course, Dick ain't seen nothing yet.
Perry: Why’d you pick me for this job?
Dick: A perfect score needs perfect partners. Together we’re a perfect fit.
Perry: It’s your score. Where do l fit in?
Dick: I got you figured for a natural-born killer. Or did you lie about that punk in Vegas?
Perry: No.
Dick: Why did you kill him?
Perry: No special reason. Just for the hell of it.
Dick: That’s the best reason of all. Back there, you wanted to kill me. Just for a second, right?
Perry: It passed.
Dick: Hair-trigger temper. Somebody crosses you, voom! Yes, sir. You’ve got the gift, boy.
You know, if that's what you want to call it.
Dewey: I didn’t catch your name.
Jensen [playing the part of Truman Capote]: Bill Jensen, Weekly magazine.
Dewey: If you’re not here to write news, what is your interest?
Jensen: Fairly basic.
Dewey: What’s basic about a stupid senseless crime?
Jensen: A violent, unknown force destroys a decent, ordinary family. No clues. No logic. Makes us all feel frightened. Vulnerable.
Dewey: Murder’s no mystery. Only the motive.
Jensen: How’d they enter the house? A key? Force a window?
Dewey: Probably just walked in.
Jensen: Don’t people around here lock doors?
Dewey: They will tonight.
Cue dasein.
Jensen [to Dewey]: At the Menninger Clinic, right here in Kansas a study was made of four killers. They all had certain things in common. They all committed senseless murders. They all felt physically inferior and sexually inadequate. Their childhood was violent, or one parent was missing. Or someone else had raised them. They couldn’t distinguish between fantasy and reality. They didn’t hate their victims, they didn’t even know them. They felt no guilt about their crime, and got nothing out of it. And most important, they told the police or a psychiatrist that they felt the urge to kill, before they committed murder. Their warnings were disregarded.
Pick one:
1] sociopaths
2] psychopaths
3] fucking nihilists
Dick: What’s the matter?
Perry: Us. We’re the matter. We’re ridiculous. You tapping the walls for a safe that isn’t there. Tapping like some nutty woodpecker. And me. Crawling around the floor…with my legs on fire. And all to steal a kid’s silver dollar. Ridiculous!
Speaking of ridiculous...
Cop: Why do all you people get tattooed?
Dick: “All you people”? What people?
Cop: Convicts. You’re all tattooed. That tiger head. What does it do? Make you feel tough?
Dick: That cop’s badge, what does it do? Make you feel honest? Everybody’s got a tattoo. Only you people call them clubs. Elks, Masons, Boy Scouts. Salute. High sign. Low sign. Secret this and secret that. “No trespassing. Keep off the grass.” Nice, respectable, tattoo clubs. Poker clubs, golf clubs, tennis clubs. Clubs for gambling and clubs for drinking.
So, I wondered, are we a club?
Perry [to Dewey]: It doesn’t make sense. I mean what happened. It had nothing to do with the Clutters. They never hurt me. They just happened to be there. I thought Mr. Clutter was a very nice gentleman…I thought so right up to the time I cut his throat.
And just before he kills them flashbacks to his father:
Prosecutor [to jury]: Mercy for them. The killers. How fortunate that their amicable attorneys were not present at the Clutter house on that fateful evening. How very fortunate for them that they were not present that evening to plead mercy for the doomed family, because otherwise, they would have found their corpses too. If you allow them life imprisonment, they will be eligible for parole in 7 years. That is the law. Gentlemen, 4 of your neighbors were slaughtered like hogs in a pen by them. They did not strike suddenly in the heat of passion, but for money. They did not kill in vengeance, they planned it for money. And how cheaply those lives were bought. $40. $10 a life. They drove 400 miles to come here. They brought their weapons with them.
[picks up a shotgun]
Prosecutor: This shotgun.
[picks up a knife]
Prosecutor: This dagger.
[picks up a rope]
Prosecutor: This is the rope they hogtied their victims with.
[picks up a vile of blood]
Prosecutor: This is the blood they spilled. Herb Clutter’s. They who had no pity, now ask for yours. They who had no mercy, now ask for yours. They who shed no tears, now ask for yours. If you have tears to shed, weep not for them, weep for their victims.
[picks up a copy of the Holy Bible]
Prosecutor: From the way the Holy Bible was quoted here today, You might think the word of God was written only to protect the killers, but they didn’t read you this: Exodus 20:13: “Thou shalt not kill.” Or this: Genesis 9:12: “Who so sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.”
Too close to call?
Jensen [voiceover]: According to an expert in forensic medicine neither one of them would have done it alone. But together, they made a third personality. That’s the one that did it.
Kind of spooky, isn't it?
Dick [to the prisoner in the next cell]: Hey Andy, do them books say what happens when you hang?
Andy: Well, your neck breaks… and then you crap your pants.
That ever happen to you?
Jensen [voiceover]: Death row has its own routine. Shower. One man at a time, once a week. Shave, twice a week. The guard locks the safety razor. Safety first. No radios, no movies, no TV. No cards, no games, no exercise. No mirrors, no bottles, no glasses. No knives, no forks. No suicide allowed. They could eat, sleep…write, read, think, dream. They could pray, if so inclined. But mostly, they just waited.
Me too. On the other hand, for godot.
Reporter: Is he the…
Jensen: Yeah.
Reporter: How much does he get paid to hang them?
Jensen: $300 a man.
Reporter: Has he got a name?
Jensen: “We, the people.”
Hmm, why $300?
But point taken.
Perry: You know, there was a time once when Pop and I almost had it made. Just the two of us. He was in a fever about some new project up in Alaska. A hunting lodge for tourists. It was gonna make us a fortune better than a gold mine. But most of all, it was gonna be something we never had before: A real home. We got it built, too. Just him and me, side by side. The day the roof was finished, he danced all over it. I never was so happy in all my life. It was a beautiful home. But no tourists ever came. Nobody. We just lived there all alone in that big, empty failure…till he couldn’t stand the sight of me…I think it happened while I was eating a biscuit. He started yelling what a greedy, selfish bastard I was. Yelling and yelling till I grabbed his throat. I couldn’t stop myself. He tore loose and got a gun. He said, “Look at me, boy! Take a good look 'cause I’m the last living thing you’re gonna see.” And he pulled the trigger. But the gun wasn’t loaded. He began to cry. Bawled like a kid. I went for a long walk. When I got back, the place was dark. The door was locked. All my stuff was piled outside in the snow where he threw it. I walked away and never looked back. I guess the only thing I’m gonna miss in this world…is that poor old man and his hopeless dreams.
Priest: I’m glad you don’t hate your father anymore.
Perry: But I do. I hate him…and I love him.
Pick two:
1] mitigating circumstances
2] aggravating circumstances
Perry [ just before he is hung]: I think maybe I would like to apologize, but who to?
How about to, "we, the people".
That’s when lots of folks back then realized that, for all intents and purposes, no one was really safe. And nothing has changed since, right?
And it’s how all those dots can get connected. Some guy in a prison cell tells another guy in there with him about a safe in the house of a guy he once worked for. The guy who is told gets out and tells his buddy. But there is no safe. And four human beings are slaughtered. And there could have been two more if Dick and Perry had arrived when Bobby was there…or if the daughter’s friend had decided to spend the night. That spooky part of human interaction we can never quite pin down.
And then there is Floyd Wells. He started the ball rolling and then was instrumental in bringing it all to a stop.
In part the film explores the makings of “the crininal mind”. All the pieces from the past that get crammed inside the heads of some folks but not in the heads of others. It’s all overwhelming then and is still all overwhelming today. There are just too many different variables that can be understood in too many different ways.
Look for the word “bullshit”. This is the first time it was ever used in a Hollywood film.
To get the authenticity he wanted, Richard Brooks filmed in all the actual locations including the Clutter house (where the murders took place) and the actual courtroom (6 of the actual jurors were used). Even Nancy Clutter’s horse Babe was used in a few scenes. The actual gallows at the Kansas State Penitentiary were used for filming the executions, however, in a 2002 interview, Charles McAtee (who was State Corrections Director for Kansas in the 1960’s), clarified the hangman in the film was an actor, not the real deal.
The two pairs of eyes pictured on the movie poster are those of the real killers, not the actors portraying them. IMDb
In Cold Blood
Dick: Them birds don’t know it, but this is their last day on Earth.
Not unlike the Clutters.
Dick: Four hundred miles west of here, Big Daddy Clutter’s place. That’s the layout. The works. Somewhere in that office, in one little old safe. And inside that safe, $10,000…maybe more.
Perry: You’ve seen it?
Dick: The safe? Right after you left the zoo, a new guy moved into the cell. Floyd Wells, serving three to five for robbery. He once worked for Clutter. He saw it.
Dick: And that’s your perfect score?
Of course, Dick ain't seen nothing yet.
Perry: Why’d you pick me for this job?
Dick: A perfect score needs perfect partners. Together we’re a perfect fit.
Perry: It’s your score. Where do l fit in?
Dick: I got you figured for a natural-born killer. Or did you lie about that punk in Vegas?
Perry: No.
Dick: Why did you kill him?
Perry: No special reason. Just for the hell of it.
Dick: That’s the best reason of all. Back there, you wanted to kill me. Just for a second, right?
Perry: It passed.
Dick: Hair-trigger temper. Somebody crosses you, voom! Yes, sir. You’ve got the gift, boy.
You know, if that's what you want to call it.
Dewey: I didn’t catch your name.
Jensen [playing the part of Truman Capote]: Bill Jensen, Weekly magazine.
Dewey: If you’re not here to write news, what is your interest?
Jensen: Fairly basic.
Dewey: What’s basic about a stupid senseless crime?
Jensen: A violent, unknown force destroys a decent, ordinary family. No clues. No logic. Makes us all feel frightened. Vulnerable.
Dewey: Murder’s no mystery. Only the motive.
Jensen: How’d they enter the house? A key? Force a window?
Dewey: Probably just walked in.
Jensen: Don’t people around here lock doors?
Dewey: They will tonight.
Cue dasein.
Jensen [to Dewey]: At the Menninger Clinic, right here in Kansas a study was made of four killers. They all had certain things in common. They all committed senseless murders. They all felt physically inferior and sexually inadequate. Their childhood was violent, or one parent was missing. Or someone else had raised them. They couldn’t distinguish between fantasy and reality. They didn’t hate their victims, they didn’t even know them. They felt no guilt about their crime, and got nothing out of it. And most important, they told the police or a psychiatrist that they felt the urge to kill, before they committed murder. Their warnings were disregarded.
Pick one:
1] sociopaths
2] psychopaths
3] fucking nihilists
Dick: What’s the matter?
Perry: Us. We’re the matter. We’re ridiculous. You tapping the walls for a safe that isn’t there. Tapping like some nutty woodpecker. And me. Crawling around the floor…with my legs on fire. And all to steal a kid’s silver dollar. Ridiculous!
Speaking of ridiculous...
Cop: Why do all you people get tattooed?
Dick: “All you people”? What people?
Cop: Convicts. You’re all tattooed. That tiger head. What does it do? Make you feel tough?
Dick: That cop’s badge, what does it do? Make you feel honest? Everybody’s got a tattoo. Only you people call them clubs. Elks, Masons, Boy Scouts. Salute. High sign. Low sign. Secret this and secret that. “No trespassing. Keep off the grass.” Nice, respectable, tattoo clubs. Poker clubs, golf clubs, tennis clubs. Clubs for gambling and clubs for drinking.
So, I wondered, are we a club?
Perry [to Dewey]: It doesn’t make sense. I mean what happened. It had nothing to do with the Clutters. They never hurt me. They just happened to be there. I thought Mr. Clutter was a very nice gentleman…I thought so right up to the time I cut his throat.
And just before he kills them flashbacks to his father:
Prosecutor [to jury]: Mercy for them. The killers. How fortunate that their amicable attorneys were not present at the Clutter house on that fateful evening. How very fortunate for them that they were not present that evening to plead mercy for the doomed family, because otherwise, they would have found their corpses too. If you allow them life imprisonment, they will be eligible for parole in 7 years. That is the law. Gentlemen, 4 of your neighbors were slaughtered like hogs in a pen by them. They did not strike suddenly in the heat of passion, but for money. They did not kill in vengeance, they planned it for money. And how cheaply those lives were bought. $40. $10 a life. They drove 400 miles to come here. They brought their weapons with them.
[picks up a shotgun]
Prosecutor: This shotgun.
[picks up a knife]
Prosecutor: This dagger.
[picks up a rope]
Prosecutor: This is the rope they hogtied their victims with.
[picks up a vile of blood]
Prosecutor: This is the blood they spilled. Herb Clutter’s. They who had no pity, now ask for yours. They who had no mercy, now ask for yours. They who shed no tears, now ask for yours. If you have tears to shed, weep not for them, weep for their victims.
[picks up a copy of the Holy Bible]
Prosecutor: From the way the Holy Bible was quoted here today, You might think the word of God was written only to protect the killers, but they didn’t read you this: Exodus 20:13: “Thou shalt not kill.” Or this: Genesis 9:12: “Who so sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.”
Too close to call?
Jensen [voiceover]: According to an expert in forensic medicine neither one of them would have done it alone. But together, they made a third personality. That’s the one that did it.
Kind of spooky, isn't it?
Dick [to the prisoner in the next cell]: Hey Andy, do them books say what happens when you hang?
Andy: Well, your neck breaks… and then you crap your pants.
That ever happen to you?
Jensen [voiceover]: Death row has its own routine. Shower. One man at a time, once a week. Shave, twice a week. The guard locks the safety razor. Safety first. No radios, no movies, no TV. No cards, no games, no exercise. No mirrors, no bottles, no glasses. No knives, no forks. No suicide allowed. They could eat, sleep…write, read, think, dream. They could pray, if so inclined. But mostly, they just waited.
Me too. On the other hand, for godot.
Reporter: Is he the…
Jensen: Yeah.
Reporter: How much does he get paid to hang them?
Jensen: $300 a man.
Reporter: Has he got a name?
Jensen: “We, the people.”
Hmm, why $300?
But point taken.
Perry: You know, there was a time once when Pop and I almost had it made. Just the two of us. He was in a fever about some new project up in Alaska. A hunting lodge for tourists. It was gonna make us a fortune better than a gold mine. But most of all, it was gonna be something we never had before: A real home. We got it built, too. Just him and me, side by side. The day the roof was finished, he danced all over it. I never was so happy in all my life. It was a beautiful home. But no tourists ever came. Nobody. We just lived there all alone in that big, empty failure…till he couldn’t stand the sight of me…I think it happened while I was eating a biscuit. He started yelling what a greedy, selfish bastard I was. Yelling and yelling till I grabbed his throat. I couldn’t stop myself. He tore loose and got a gun. He said, “Look at me, boy! Take a good look 'cause I’m the last living thing you’re gonna see.” And he pulled the trigger. But the gun wasn’t loaded. He began to cry. Bawled like a kid. I went for a long walk. When I got back, the place was dark. The door was locked. All my stuff was piled outside in the snow where he threw it. I walked away and never looked back. I guess the only thing I’m gonna miss in this world…is that poor old man and his hopeless dreams.
Priest: I’m glad you don’t hate your father anymore.
Perry: But I do. I hate him…and I love him.
Pick two:
1] mitigating circumstances
2] aggravating circumstances
Perry [ just before he is hung]: I think maybe I would like to apologize, but who to?
How about to, "we, the people".
-
iambiguous
- Posts: 11317
- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
John Fowles from The Magus
Wealth is a monster. It takes a month to learn to control it financially. And many years to learn to control it psychologically.
I suspect however that most of us would take our chances with it.
I was worse off than even Alison was; she hated life, I hated mysef. I had created nothing, I belonged to nothingness, to the néant, and it seemed to me that my own death was the only thing left that I could create.
"One shot...missed."
He had the charm of all people who believe implicitly in themselves, that of integration.
Of course, my own integration is hopelessly fractured and fragmented.
She had something that is gone from the world, from the female world. A sweetness without sentimentality, a limpidity without naivety. She was so easy to hurt, to tease. And when she teased, it was like a caress.
New thread, gents?
I was born in 1927, the only child of middle-class parents, both English, and themselves born in the grotesquely elongated shadow, which they never rose sufficiently above history to leave, of that monstrous dwarf Queen Victoria.
Just for the record as it were.
It was an unforgettable painting; it set a dense golden halo of light round the most trivial of moments, so that the moment, and all such moments, could never be completely trivial again.
On the other hand, I'll bet you could make them trivial.
Wealth is a monster. It takes a month to learn to control it financially. And many years to learn to control it psychologically.
I suspect however that most of us would take our chances with it.
I was worse off than even Alison was; she hated life, I hated mysef. I had created nothing, I belonged to nothingness, to the néant, and it seemed to me that my own death was the only thing left that I could create.
"One shot...missed."
He had the charm of all people who believe implicitly in themselves, that of integration.
Of course, my own integration is hopelessly fractured and fragmented.
She had something that is gone from the world, from the female world. A sweetness without sentimentality, a limpidity without naivety. She was so easy to hurt, to tease. And when she teased, it was like a caress.
New thread, gents?
I was born in 1927, the only child of middle-class parents, both English, and themselves born in the grotesquely elongated shadow, which they never rose sufficiently above history to leave, of that monstrous dwarf Queen Victoria.
Just for the record as it were.
It was an unforgettable painting; it set a dense golden halo of light round the most trivial of moments, so that the moment, and all such moments, could never be completely trivial again.
On the other hand, I'll bet you could make them trivial.
-
iambiguous
- Posts: 11317
- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
Exotica is a strip club. It’s a place where sex sells right out in the open. Only there are rules. But how do you write down a liturgy when it comes to making distinctions between fantasy and reality. Here things can tend to become murky. Or even dangerous.
The human sexual libido in this day and age is often a timebomb. Here, for example, a “teenage girl” is brought out to arouse the clientele. And then the folks who make the money can rationalize it all away: It’s better “in here” then “out there”. As though this sort of thing does not carry over into the real world.
But then this isn’t really about that at all. Unfortunately, in my view. It hints at it, but never really goes below the surface.
In the club everything seems to be right on the surface. In the flesh. Measured in dollars and cents. But when they cut to the parts outside the club, you know there are things going on here you do not really understand at all. There is a sense of foreboding throughout as people stumble about trying to make connections with others. But it is always the emotional and psychological distances that rend us more. Sexuality just complicates it all the more.
In the club. Out of the club. Trying to wrap your head around it somehow. But never really succeeding.
Exotica
Eric: Let me ask you something, gentlemen: What is it that gives a schoolgirl her special innocence? Her sweet fragrance… Fresh flowers, light as a spring rain… Oh, my god, my god… Or is it her firm, young flesh, inviting your every caress, enticing you to explore her deepest and most private secrets? Well, gentlemen, I’m gonna let you decide that one for yourselves. Please join me in welcoming a sassy bit of jailbait to our stage. Yes, indeed. Come out, sweet Chrissy! Wherever you are, baby, come on out!
Let's all imagine her reaction to this.
Eric: Mmm, what? What is it? What is it that gives a school-girl her special innocence? Is it the way they smell? The sweet smell of their perfume of their hair? The aroma of fresh flowers…Is it their gestures and the way they move? The way their body still holds on to some semblance of self-respect and and dignity? When they wrap their beautiful legs around you - tight, holding on - looking at you…you looking at them. It’s just…Or is it whatever comes out of their cute little mouths? All those questions, all that wondering that…It’s just, you know, you…They got their whole lives ahead of them, you know? And you’ve wasted half of yours away. Damn. What is it?
Let's all imagine her reaction to this.
Zoe: What is this thing about Eric calling you “a sassy piece of jailbait”?
Christina: What’s this thing?
Zoe: It bothers me.
Christina: Why?
Zoe: It makes you out like a child or something.
Christina: Unlike the tartan skirt and my socks or the blouse or the way I act, right?
Yeah, that's what I was thinking too.
[repeated lines]
Eric: All right, ladies and gentlemen, it’s show time at the Exotica. And just to remind you that five dollars is all it takes to have one of our lovely ladies come over to your table and show you the mysteries of their world.
Probably a hundred these days.
Christina: What are you thinking?
Francis: I was just thinking, what would happen if someone hurt you?
Christina: H-How could anyone hurt me?
Francis: If I’m not there to protect you.
Christina: I...You’ll always be there to protect me.
You're thinking: From himself? But there is all the stuff that unfolds outside the club. And then how it's all connected to what unfolds inside.
Francis: As you get older you become aware that the people you meet and the person you are…um, as carrying a certain amount of baggage. And, and that baggage creates tension.
Tracey: So what do you do about it?
Francis: Well, you can pretend it’s not there…or you can choose not to have friends…or you can acknowledge that it’s there and have friends anyway.
Tracey: Like my dad?
Francis: Right.
Tracey: I don’t think that I like my dad when he’s around you.
Francis: Hmm. Well, that’s…because your dad doesn’t like himself when he’s around me. But that’s okay. That’s part of what friends do to each other.
This relationship is particularly problematic. Fortunately, it's not what we suspected it was going to be.
Francis: You know that feeling you get sometimes, Tracey…that you didn’t ask to be brought into the world?
Tracey: Yeah.
Francis: Well, then who did?
Tracey: What?
Francis: If you think that you didn’t ask to be brought into the world…then who did? All I’m saying is nobody asked you if you wanted to be brought into the world. You just ended up getting here. So the question is, now that you’re here…who’s asking you to stay?
Don't look at me.
Zoe: Mr. Brown, we’re all aware of what you’ve gone through. You’ve suffered a lot. But you have to understand that Exotica is here for your amusement. We’re here to entertain, not to heal. There are other places for that.
Where did you go?
The human sexual libido in this day and age is often a timebomb. Here, for example, a “teenage girl” is brought out to arouse the clientele. And then the folks who make the money can rationalize it all away: It’s better “in here” then “out there”. As though this sort of thing does not carry over into the real world.
But then this isn’t really about that at all. Unfortunately, in my view. It hints at it, but never really goes below the surface.
In the club everything seems to be right on the surface. In the flesh. Measured in dollars and cents. But when they cut to the parts outside the club, you know there are things going on here you do not really understand at all. There is a sense of foreboding throughout as people stumble about trying to make connections with others. But it is always the emotional and psychological distances that rend us more. Sexuality just complicates it all the more.
In the club. Out of the club. Trying to wrap your head around it somehow. But never really succeeding.
Exotica
Eric: Let me ask you something, gentlemen: What is it that gives a schoolgirl her special innocence? Her sweet fragrance… Fresh flowers, light as a spring rain… Oh, my god, my god… Or is it her firm, young flesh, inviting your every caress, enticing you to explore her deepest and most private secrets? Well, gentlemen, I’m gonna let you decide that one for yourselves. Please join me in welcoming a sassy bit of jailbait to our stage. Yes, indeed. Come out, sweet Chrissy! Wherever you are, baby, come on out!
Let's all imagine her reaction to this.
Eric: Mmm, what? What is it? What is it that gives a school-girl her special innocence? Is it the way they smell? The sweet smell of their perfume of their hair? The aroma of fresh flowers…Is it their gestures and the way they move? The way their body still holds on to some semblance of self-respect and and dignity? When they wrap their beautiful legs around you - tight, holding on - looking at you…you looking at them. It’s just…Or is it whatever comes out of their cute little mouths? All those questions, all that wondering that…It’s just, you know, you…They got their whole lives ahead of them, you know? And you’ve wasted half of yours away. Damn. What is it?
Let's all imagine her reaction to this.
Zoe: What is this thing about Eric calling you “a sassy piece of jailbait”?
Christina: What’s this thing?
Zoe: It bothers me.
Christina: Why?
Zoe: It makes you out like a child or something.
Christina: Unlike the tartan skirt and my socks or the blouse or the way I act, right?
Yeah, that's what I was thinking too.
[repeated lines]
Eric: All right, ladies and gentlemen, it’s show time at the Exotica. And just to remind you that five dollars is all it takes to have one of our lovely ladies come over to your table and show you the mysteries of their world.
Probably a hundred these days.
Christina: What are you thinking?
Francis: I was just thinking, what would happen if someone hurt you?
Christina: H-How could anyone hurt me?
Francis: If I’m not there to protect you.
Christina: I...You’ll always be there to protect me.
You're thinking: From himself? But there is all the stuff that unfolds outside the club. And then how it's all connected to what unfolds inside.
Francis: As you get older you become aware that the people you meet and the person you are…um, as carrying a certain amount of baggage. And, and that baggage creates tension.
Tracey: So what do you do about it?
Francis: Well, you can pretend it’s not there…or you can choose not to have friends…or you can acknowledge that it’s there and have friends anyway.
Tracey: Like my dad?
Francis: Right.
Tracey: I don’t think that I like my dad when he’s around you.
Francis: Hmm. Well, that’s…because your dad doesn’t like himself when he’s around me. But that’s okay. That’s part of what friends do to each other.
This relationship is particularly problematic. Fortunately, it's not what we suspected it was going to be.
Francis: You know that feeling you get sometimes, Tracey…that you didn’t ask to be brought into the world?
Tracey: Yeah.
Francis: Well, then who did?
Tracey: What?
Francis: If you think that you didn’t ask to be brought into the world…then who did? All I’m saying is nobody asked you if you wanted to be brought into the world. You just ended up getting here. So the question is, now that you’re here…who’s asking you to stay?
Don't look at me.
Zoe: Mr. Brown, we’re all aware of what you’ve gone through. You’ve suffered a lot. But you have to understand that Exotica is here for your amusement. We’re here to entertain, not to heal. There are other places for that.
Where did you go?
-
iambiguous
- Posts: 11317
- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
Yuval Noah Harari
Evolution has made Homo sapiens, like other social mammals, a xenophobic creature. Sapiens instinctively divide humanity into two parts, ‘we’ and ‘they’.
Pick two:
Genes
Memes
Humans think in stories rather than in facts, numbers, or equations, and the simpler the story, the better.
Uh, theoretically?
History isn’t a single narrative, but thousands of alternative narratives. Whenever we choose to tell one, we are also choosing to silence others.
As well they should be, right?
Fiction isn't bad. It is vital. Without commonly accepted stories about things like money, states or corporations, no complex human society can function.
My guess: lines will be drawn.
Hierarchies serve an important function. They enable complete strangers to know how to treat one another without wasting the time and energy needed to become personally acquainted.
The ruling class approves, of course.
When the faithful are asked whether God really exists, they often begin by talking about the enigmatic mysteries of the universe and the limits of human understanding. ‘Science cannot explain the Big Bang,’ they exclaim, ‘so that must be God’s doing.’ Yet like a magician fooling an audience by imperceptibly replacing one card with another, the faithful quickly replace the cosmic mystery with the worldly lawgiver. After giving the name of ‘God’ to the unknown secrets of the cosmos, they then use this to somehow condemn bikinis and divorces. ‘We do not understand the Big Bang – therefore you must cover your hair in public and vote against gay marriage.’ Not only is there no logical connection between the two, but they are in fact contradictory. The deeper the mysteries of the universe, the less likely it is that whatever is responsible for them gives a damn about female dress codes or human sexual behaviour.
Next up:astrology.
Evolution has made Homo sapiens, like other social mammals, a xenophobic creature. Sapiens instinctively divide humanity into two parts, ‘we’ and ‘they’.
Pick two:
Genes
Memes
Humans think in stories rather than in facts, numbers, or equations, and the simpler the story, the better.
Uh, theoretically?
History isn’t a single narrative, but thousands of alternative narratives. Whenever we choose to tell one, we are also choosing to silence others.
As well they should be, right?
Fiction isn't bad. It is vital. Without commonly accepted stories about things like money, states or corporations, no complex human society can function.
My guess: lines will be drawn.
Hierarchies serve an important function. They enable complete strangers to know how to treat one another without wasting the time and energy needed to become personally acquainted.
The ruling class approves, of course.
When the faithful are asked whether God really exists, they often begin by talking about the enigmatic mysteries of the universe and the limits of human understanding. ‘Science cannot explain the Big Bang,’ they exclaim, ‘so that must be God’s doing.’ Yet like a magician fooling an audience by imperceptibly replacing one card with another, the faithful quickly replace the cosmic mystery with the worldly lawgiver. After giving the name of ‘God’ to the unknown secrets of the cosmos, they then use this to somehow condemn bikinis and divorces. ‘We do not understand the Big Bang – therefore you must cover your hair in public and vote against gay marriage.’ Not only is there no logical connection between the two, but they are in fact contradictory. The deeper the mysteries of the universe, the less likely it is that whatever is responsible for them gives a damn about female dress codes or human sexual behaviour.
Next up:astrology.
-
iambiguous
- Posts: 11317
- Joined: Mon Nov 22, 2010 10:23 pm
Re: Quote of the day
Music pirates from Taiwan? Yeah, apparently. And they are after an illegally procured recording of an opera recital a young postman taped surreptitiously. Which then is confused with a cassette recording of criminal evidence relating to a prostitution ring, police corruption…and murder. The worlds on these two tapes could hardly be farther removed.
A peek into the Parisian underworld [both of them] that may or may not bear any resemblance to the way it is really like. Very strange characters here. Very strange plot. Very strange elements for a “thriller”.
Serious music spoken here. With serious artistes to appreciate it. And a gang of assassins [and a couple of thugs] who don’t. I’m never entirely sure however how all the parts fit together here.
As with Glenn Gould, Cynthis Hawkins has a thing about recording music. Only, unlike Gould, she detested it. Only the live performance counted. Okay, but how many can afford to hear her there? Jules wants the world to hear her sing.
The producers were looking for an actress who fit the description of Cynthia Hawkins (the Diva) in the original novel - a beautiful black American woman who sings a flawless operatic soprano, and speaks both English and French fluently. They attended a performance of Carmen to familiarize themselves with opera performers. Wilhelmenia Fernandez was playing the title role the night they attended the opera. IMDb
Diva
Jules: Do you like jazz?
Alba: Obviously! Or I’d be stealing mambo.
Obviously.
Cynthia Hawkins: You’re that postman?
Jules: I apologize.
Cynthia Hawkins: Do you take me for the Beatles? I’m no disco singer!
Actually, that's true.
Jules: l heard you in Bordeaux. And last year. . .I went to Munich specially for the concert.
Cynthia Hawkins: You made the trip for me?
Jules: Yes, on the moped.
Cynthia Hawkins: On the moped. From Paris to Munich on a moped? You’re pulling my leg. No.
Jules: You even sang some Wagner. The Wesendonc Lieder. You wore a blue dress with pearls. A little girl threw a bouquet of red roses. There were 18 curtain calls, and you refused to sing. You refused.
Cynthia Hawkins: Nobody stole my dress that night. Don’t you like blue…?
Next up: curtain calls here.
Reporter: Madam, it’s no secret that you’ve always refused to record. The quality of recordings today is close to perfection. What don’t you like about them?
Cynthia Hawkins: I sing because I love to sing. Alone, I can’t. I need the public. The concert is an exceptional moment. . .for the artist, for the listener. It’s a unique moment.
Reporter: What do you think of secret recordings?
Cynthia Hawkins: It’s a theft, a rape. I despise them.
I wouldn't -- couldn't -- go that far myself.
Gorodish: Some get high on airplane glue…detergents…fancy, complex things. My satori is this: Zen in the art of buttering bread!
And, no, not just theoretically.
Jules [eyeing the scene printed on Alba’s miniskirt]: Is that the Opera House?
Alba: No, that’s my ass.
On the other hand, where did one end and the other begin?
Jules: Where are we?
Alba: In a castle.
Jules: What castle?
Alba: Where the witch makes poisoned red apples to advertise the toothpaste movie stars use.
Imagine that?
Gorodish: Abyssus abyssum invocate.
Alba: What is Abyssus abyssum?
Gorodish: It means the abyss calls to the abyss.
Want mine to call yours?
Jules: It’s the only recording.
Cynthia Hawkins: It was you?
Jules: It’s yours. It’s my gift to you. Forgive me.
Cynthia Hawkins: But…I’ve never heard myself sing!
Jules: Listen…
And listen she did, as I recall.
A peek into the Parisian underworld [both of them] that may or may not bear any resemblance to the way it is really like. Very strange characters here. Very strange plot. Very strange elements for a “thriller”.
Serious music spoken here. With serious artistes to appreciate it. And a gang of assassins [and a couple of thugs] who don’t. I’m never entirely sure however how all the parts fit together here.
As with Glenn Gould, Cynthis Hawkins has a thing about recording music. Only, unlike Gould, she detested it. Only the live performance counted. Okay, but how many can afford to hear her there? Jules wants the world to hear her sing.
The producers were looking for an actress who fit the description of Cynthia Hawkins (the Diva) in the original novel - a beautiful black American woman who sings a flawless operatic soprano, and speaks both English and French fluently. They attended a performance of Carmen to familiarize themselves with opera performers. Wilhelmenia Fernandez was playing the title role the night they attended the opera. IMDb
Diva
Jules: Do you like jazz?
Alba: Obviously! Or I’d be stealing mambo.
Obviously.
Cynthia Hawkins: You’re that postman?
Jules: I apologize.
Cynthia Hawkins: Do you take me for the Beatles? I’m no disco singer!
Actually, that's true.
Jules: l heard you in Bordeaux. And last year. . .I went to Munich specially for the concert.
Cynthia Hawkins: You made the trip for me?
Jules: Yes, on the moped.
Cynthia Hawkins: On the moped. From Paris to Munich on a moped? You’re pulling my leg. No.
Jules: You even sang some Wagner. The Wesendonc Lieder. You wore a blue dress with pearls. A little girl threw a bouquet of red roses. There were 18 curtain calls, and you refused to sing. You refused.
Cynthia Hawkins: Nobody stole my dress that night. Don’t you like blue…?
Next up: curtain calls here.
Reporter: Madam, it’s no secret that you’ve always refused to record. The quality of recordings today is close to perfection. What don’t you like about them?
Cynthia Hawkins: I sing because I love to sing. Alone, I can’t. I need the public. The concert is an exceptional moment. . .for the artist, for the listener. It’s a unique moment.
Reporter: What do you think of secret recordings?
Cynthia Hawkins: It’s a theft, a rape. I despise them.
I wouldn't -- couldn't -- go that far myself.
Gorodish: Some get high on airplane glue…detergents…fancy, complex things. My satori is this: Zen in the art of buttering bread!
And, no, not just theoretically.
Jules [eyeing the scene printed on Alba’s miniskirt]: Is that the Opera House?
Alba: No, that’s my ass.
On the other hand, where did one end and the other begin?
Jules: Where are we?
Alba: In a castle.
Jules: What castle?
Alba: Where the witch makes poisoned red apples to advertise the toothpaste movie stars use.
Imagine that?
Gorodish: Abyssus abyssum invocate.
Alba: What is Abyssus abyssum?
Gorodish: It means the abyss calls to the abyss.
Want mine to call yours?
Jules: It’s the only recording.
Cynthia Hawkins: It was you?
Jules: It’s yours. It’s my gift to you. Forgive me.
Cynthia Hawkins: But…I’ve never heard myself sing!
Jules: Listen…
And listen she did, as I recall.