Philosophy Now Forum

Sexy Beast

Don: Do the job.
Gal: What?
Don: Do the job.
Gal: No!
Don: Yes!
Gal: No!
Don: Yes!
Gal: No!
Don: Fat ****!
Gal: No, No, No!
Don: Yes, Yes, Yes!

It could have gone either way for a while there.

Don: I fucked Jackie. Dirty cow. During what we were doing, she tried to stick her finger up my bum. I nearly hit the roof, you can imagine. I mean, what have you got to think of a woman who’d want to do that?

Ladies, you're up.

Don: Shut up, ****. You louse. You got some fuckin’ neck ain’t you. Retired? Fuck off, you’re revolting. Look at your suntan, it’s leather, it’s like leather man, your skin. We could make a fucking suitcase out of you. Like a crocodile, fat crocodile, fat bastard. You look like fucking Idi Amin, you know what I mean? Stay here? You should be ashamed of yourself. Who do you think you are? King of the castle? Cock of the walk?
[He punches Gal in the gut]
Don: What you think this is the wheel of fortune? You think you can make your dough and fuck off? Leave the table? Thanks Don, see you Don, off to sunny Spain now Don, fuck off Don. Lying in your pool like a fat blob laughing at me, you think I’m gonna have that? You really think I’m gonna have that, ya ponce. All right, I’ll make it easy for you. God knows you’re fucking trying. Are you gonna do the job? It’s not a difficult question, are you gonna do the job, yes or no?
Gal: No
Don: You’re doing the job.

Let's run this by Mahatma Gandhi.

Airport security: As you may know, all European airlines…
Don: Before you start, I wanna say something. Let ask you something. Have you ever been sexually assaulted? No, neither have I, until today on that plane.
Airport security: What?
Don: Yeah, that’s what I said. There’s me putting my bag up in the cupboard next thing ya know, I feel hands on me. Someone’s touched me, touched my front… my front bottom. I can’t believe it, I’ve gone all cold. I look around, he's standing there isn’t he? That steward with the guilty look on his face. I was shocked, I didn’t know what to say. I had to sit down, I was that perturbed. Then his mate, the other one who was giving us all lessons on what we do if we land in the sea. How to wear your life jacket etc; He starts off, he starts looking at me all funny… suggestive. Now I don’t know if they’re wanting me for a twosome or something, I don’t know how they work it. But I’ll tell you what, it scared me. I was shaking like a leaf, so without thinking I lit up a cigarette to calm me nerves. I was trembling, I was very emotional and that when all the rest of it happened. It’s very regrettable. Now, I don’t want to kick up a fuss, right, press charges… contact the British embassy. I’d rather not pursue those channels, that’s not my style. I’m not that sort of a bloke. I don’t want to lose the man his job. Man’s got to eat. And I’m sure he’s not representive of all you Spanish people. But I would appreciate it if you had a word with him, let him know he’s been rumbled. The one with the ginger hair.

Expect this sort of thing from him.
Or else.

Don: Not this time, Gal. Not this time. Not this fucking time. No. No no no no no no no no no! No! No no no no no no no no no no no no no! No! Not this fucking time! No fucking way! No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way! You’ve made me look a right ****!

Same here. If you get his drift.

Don [barely alive]: I fucked Jackie. Fucked her. Ask her, she’ll tell you. I fucked her.
Aitch: Yeah, well I’ve fucked you now, haven’t I?
[crushes Don’s head with a metal chest]

Live by the sword, die by the sword as it were.

Ted: You see, if I cared, Gal, if I fucking cared, if I gave a solitary fuck about Don…
[long pause]
Ted: Get out of the fucking car.

Back up:

Don: Told you you’d do the job.

Move forward:

Gal: You were right Don. Technically speaking, you were right. But you’re dead. So shut up.

That'll do it.

Philosophy

“We are here and it is now. The way I see it is, after that, everything tends towards guesswork.” Terry Pratchett.

Or, for others, flipping coins.

“Good-humor is a philosophic state of mind; it seems to say to Nature that we take her no more seriously than she takes us. I maintain that one should always talk of philosophy with a smile.” William James

Besides, as often as not, they're only clouds.

“But only he who, himself enlightened, is not afraid of shadows.” Immanuel Kant

You know, up in the clouds. Dueling definitions let's call it.

“How could they see anything but the shadows if they were never allowed to move their heads?” Plato

At least until the cave dwellers of the world unite.
If it's not already too late for that, of course.

“Oh, if only it were possible to find understanding,” Joseph exclaimed. “If only there were a dogma to believe in. Everything is contradictory, everything tangential; there are no certainties anywhere. Everything can be interpreted one way and then again interpreted in the opposite sense. The whole of world history can be explained as development and progress and can also be seen as nothing but decadence and meaninglessness. Isn’t there any truth? Is there no real and valid doctrine?” Hermann Hesse

Uh, nope?

"The master had never heard him speak so fervently. He walked on in silence for a little, then said: “There is truth, my boy. But the doctrine you desire, absolute, perfect dogma that alone provides wisdom, does not exist. Nor should you long for a perfect doctrine, my friend. Rather, you should long for the perfection of yourself. The deity is within you, not in ideas and books. Truth is lived, not taught. Be prepared for conflicts, Joseph Knecht - I can see that they already have begun.” Hermann Hesse

Next up: objectivists of the world unite!
And then it's all finally settled once and for all: they choose your own One True Path.

This one comes straight from Roy Dillon’s mentor, Mintz:

"There’s nothing to whipping a fool. Hell, fools were made to be whipped. But to take another pro, even your partner, who knows you and has his eyes on you, that’s a score."

Here’s another rendition of it. Maybe even better. We are even approaching House of Games.

Short con. Long con. Some are good at both, some at neither. And some learn along the way to get better and better. But how do you trust someone who may be lying every time his lips move?

You watch them pull their scams and it dawns on you: the marks are so damn dense! Is this how they are out in the real world? Really, it’s tempting to go out and try it yourself. But it’s not for the introvert. If you are hopelessly self-conscious, keep your day job.

Look for the con within the con within the con. And that’s not even counting the ones I probably missed. And the rich? Well, let’s just say they have cons all their own.


Nine Queens [Nueve Reinas]

Juan: It was the gun that convinced me.
Marcos [pulling out a toy revolver]: The gun? It was the only thing handy.

It's begun.

Juan: I’m not the smartest guy around but I’m street-wise…and I know that nobody gives you anything for free… especially someone like you. What do you want?

Wink, wink.

Marcos [to Juan]: What’s wrong with you? How can you work the streets with such a conscience?!

A piss-poor sociopath, it seems. But then what is ever as it seems here?

Marcos: This is not for you. You’re not into it. You could fuck up, and if that happens…
Juan: What could I fuck up? What kind of an idiot d’you think I am?
Marcos: The kind who thinks too much.

Sweet, sweet irony...

Marcos [to Juan]: And you have another asset that’ll make your life easier on the streets. Something money can’t buy. You look like a nice guy.

Marcos, on the other hand, is...scary?

Marcos: Do you want to see thieves? Come. Those two are waiting for someone with a briefcase on the street side. That one, sizing up loaded victims. They are there, but you can’t see them. That’s what it’s all about. They’re there, but they aren’t. So mind your briefcase, your pocketbook, your door, your window, your car, your savings. Mind your ass. Because they’re there and they’ll always be.
Juan: Thieves.
Marcos: No…that’s what everybody calls them. They are spitters, breakers, skin workers, blind fronts, hoisters, hooks, stalls, petermans, night raiders, mustard chuckers, fences, operators, swindlers…

Next up: the equivalent of that here.

Juan: This guy is going to buy the stamps from us. We deliver them at ten and he’ll pay us $450,000. Ten percent for Sandler, and thirty percent of the balance is mine.
Marcos: Minus expenses.
Juan: Where’s the trick?
Marcos: What?
Juan: You’re screwing me. This is a trick. You’re pulling a trick.
Marcos: You think I’m screwing you? How?
Juan: I don’t know. I can’t understand it and it makes me mad. This is not real.
Marcos: It’s not real? This is as real as it gets, asshole. It’s 450 grand!

Think "A Simple Plan"...only a whole lot more complex.

Marcos: D’you want me to sign an IOU? Among thieves, this is the way it’s done. It’s based on trust.

Right, trust!

Gandolfo: I’ve just made a change in our agreement. An addition.
Marcos: In the price?
Gandolfo: No, in the package. I want to include her.
Marcos: Valeria, my sister?
Gandolfo: Valeria, yes. Knowing she’s your sister makes me hornier. Man, it’s only one night. Tonight. I’ve been wanting to fuck her since I got here but I couldn’t. And now I can. Do you want the money? Convince her.
Marcos: And if she doesn’t want to?
Gandolfo: Then the deal is off.
Marcos: You are willing to give up the stamps for a piece of ass?
Gandolfo: More than you are willing to give up the money.

Uh, what if Sis is herself in on the long con?
I won't tell.

Juan: Valeria won’t go for it.
Marcos: How do you know?
Juan: From what I’ve seen so far…
Marcos: You like her, shithead. I saw you looking at her. You must believe she’s a saint. Can’t you see the way she swings her ass? There are no saints.

Of course, back then he didn't know the half of it. On the other hand, me neither.

Juan: I wanted to say something. I wanted to apologize.
Marcos: Why?
Juan: Because I didn’t trust you. The truth is I thought you were fucking me.

A "smooth operator", right Sade?

Marcos [to Juan]: Why do you give me that raped virgin’s look? What is it? You know my business. What did you expect?

Next up: the REAL con.

What’s it all mean? Yeah, right.

Some parts are nothing less than hypnotic. It’s a world we can only dream about. We go in and come out when, where appropriate. And it is all held together [or falls apart] in our imagination.

Dreams. People talk about how surreal and inexplicable they always are. But mine are hardly ever like that at all. I can almost always interpret them [one way or another] as being connected to the world I live in from day to day.

Like in this movie. What part is the dream, what part is not? The two segments overlap such that you clearly see connections. But you can never really be certain what the connections mean and from who they are derived. It’s all ambiguous. Much like the gaps between the way we think the world is and the way it really is instead.

Anyway, here are further speculations at IMDb: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0116922/fa ... =tt_faq_sm

Also, this might seem like an entirely strraight-forward narrative compared to, say. Mullolland Drive? Or Inland empire?


Lost Highway

Voice over the intercom to Fred: Dick Laurent is dead.

Just skip that part?

Renee [on phone to the police]: Someone broke in and taped us while we slept. Isn’t that enough?

What, in California?

Ed [detective]: Do you own a video camera?
Renee: No. Fred hates them.
Fred: I like to remember things my own way.
Ed: What do you mean by that?
Fred: How I remembered them. Not necessarily the way they happened.

Use that yourself.

Mystery Man: We’ve met before, haven’t we.
Fred: I don’t think so. Where was it you think we met?
Mystery Man: At your house. Don’t you remember?
Fred: No. No, I don’t. Are you sure?
Mystery Man: Of course. As a matter of fact, I’m there right now.
Fred: What do you mean? You’re where right now?
Mystery Man: At your house.
Fred: That’s fucking crazy, man.
Mystery Man [hands have a phone]: Call me. Dial your number. Go ahead.
[Fred dials the number]
Mystery Man [over the phone]: I told you I was here.
Fred [amused]: How’d you do that?
Mystery Man: Ask me.
[Fred’s facial expression turns from amused to serious as he’s rembering the anonymous video tapes]
Fred [angrily into the phone]: How did you get inside my house?
Mystery Man [voice]: You invited me. It is not my custom to go where I am not wanted.
Fred [into the phone]: Who are you?
[Both Mystery Men laugh mechanically, malevolently]
Mystery Man [voice]: Give me back my phone.
[Fred gives the cell phone back to the man in front of him]
Mystery Man: It’s been a pleasure talking to you.

Uh, CGI?

Fred: Andy, who’s the guy on the stairs? Guy in black.
Andy: I don’t know his name. He’s a friend of Dick Laurent, I think. Yeah. I believe so.
Fred: But Dick Laurent is dead, isn’t he ?
Andy: He is? I didn’t think you knew Dick. How do you know he’s dead?
Fred: I don’t. I don’t know him.
Andy: Dick can’t be dead. Who told you he was dead?
Renee [approaching]: Who, honey? Who’s dead?

If you have to ask then you already know.

Guard: Captain Luneau?
Luneau: Yeah, Mike?
Guard: Captain…This is some spooky shit we got here.

Tell that to Fred.

Lost Highway

Mr. Eddy: Shit. Is that cocksucker doing what I think he’s doing?

My guess: Yep, that's what he's doing. But he'll never do it again though.

Mr. Eddy: This is where mechanical excellence and one-thousand four-hundred horsepower pays off.

He's right. And the guy was tailgating.

Mr. Eddy [to a tailgater after running him off the road]: Don’t tailgate! Don’t you ever tailgate! Do you know how much space is needed to stop a car traveling at 35 miles per hour? Six car lenghts! Six fuckin’ car lengths! That’s a hundred and six fuckin’ feet, mister! If I had to stop suddenly, you woulda hit me! I want you to get a fuckin’ driver’s manual, and I want you to study that motherfucker! And I want you to obey the the goddamn rules of the road! Fifty-fuckin’ thousand people were killed on the highways last year ‘cause of fuckin’ assholes like you! Tell me you’re gonna get a manual!

Imagine then his reaction to someone stealing his lady?!

Mr. Eddy: I’m sorry about that, Pete. But tailgating is one thing I cannot tolerate.
Pete: Yeah, I can see that.

Again, and that other thing.

Hank: Lou, you recognize that guy?
Lou: Yeah…Laurent.

I could be Laurent.

Hank: Fucker gets more pussy than a toilet seat.

Laurent?

Mr. Eddy: I’m sure you noticed that girl who was with me the other day. Good looking blonde. She stayed in the car. Her name is Alice. I swear, I love that girl to death. If I ever found out somebody was making out with her…I’d take this gun and I’d shove it so far up his ass, it would come out his mouth. And then you know what I’d do?
Pete: What?
Mr Eddy: I’d blow his fucking brains out.

CGI no doubt.

Mr. Eddy: I’m really glad to know you’re doin okay. You’re sure you’re okay? Everything alright?
Pete: Yeah?
Mr. Eddy: I’m really glad to know you’re doin good, Pete. Hey, I want you to talk to a friend of mine.
Mystery Man: We’ve met before, haven’t we.
Fred: I don’t think so. Where was it you think we met?
Mystery Man: At your house. Don’t you remember?
Pete Dayton: No. No, I don’t.
Mystery Man: In the East, the Far East, when a person is sentenced to death, they’re sent to a place where they can’t escape, never knowing when an executioner may step up behind them, and fire a bullet into the back of their head.
Pete: What’s going on?
Mystery Man: It’s been a pleasure talking to you.
Mr. Eddy: I just wanted to jump on and tell you that I’m really glad you’re doing OK.

Cue Frank Booth?

Alice: Did you want to talk to me? Did you want to ask me “WHY”?

Pick two:
1] why not?
2] because

Pete: Why me, Alice? Why choose me?
Alice: You still want me, don’t you, Pete?
Pete: More than ever. I want you. I want you.
Alice: You’ll never have me.

Actually, he's had her a couple of times already. But point taken.

Fred into the intercom: Dick Laurant is dead.

Sailor Ripley killed him.

Free Will

“Darwin has shown that we are animals; but—as humanists never tire of preaching­—how we live is 'up to us'. Unlike any other animal, we are told, we are free to live as we choose. Yet the idea of free will does not come from science. Its origins are in religion—not just any religion, but the Christian faith against which humanists rail so obsessively.” John Gray

And, of course, only an omniscient God can "somehow" guarentee that we have free will.

Thus...

“But even the gods cannot see infinitely far ahead. Our free wills cloud Their vision, even though Their eyes are more piercing than ours. The gods do not plan, so much as take advantage.” Lois McMaster Bujold

So -- click -- which one is it?

"Plenty of smart people denied the existence of free will, but perhaps the stakes were not as high for them.” Emily Habeck

Perhaps. That just about sums up everything here.

“Free will from the perspective of Islam is not an absolute open concept without boundaries. A Muslim has to abide to the shari'ah, and hence has to be conscious of both his/her individual and collective responsibilities.” Noraini M. Noor

Let's run that by the pinheads here.

“Just as a subatomic particle like an electron cannot be said to be definitely in one place at one time, the decisions we make are influenced but not completely defined by actions that led up to each decision," explained Mira. "In short, there is free will and a friendly soul's job is to make the right decision instinctively. Like a samurai who acts faster than thinking because of many years of monotonous training the soul needs to be carved with every decision so as to automatically make the right decision without fear or questioning.” Peter Clifford Nichols

Wow! Talk about a ton of hard evidence!!

“Your future is a cosmic dance between destiny and fate. Destiny is determined by your current vibrational reality and free will. Fate depends on divine intercession and the co-created collective.” Anthon St. Maarten

Unless of course fate and destiny are exactly the same thing. But -- wink, wink -- some are just compelled to deny it.

Sex, drugs and rock n roll. Some things never change. Like, for instance, it having long since become just a business.

Usually though the focus is on the bedraggled burnt out male rock star. Not the beautiful young[ish] wife accused of wrecking the rock star’s life.

Two kinds of people use dope. Those who never expected much of themselves and use it to blast away the dreariness of a life lived on the stifling surface day after day after day. And those who thought they would reach the stars and need something to fill the godawful gap between that and where they have really landed instead. And, of course, all the other ones who have different reasons.

Here however there’s a kid involved. And sometimes that’s enough to recover. But after that? What sort of world are you recovering into? If it’s not a whole lot different from the world that drove you to drugs, then what?

And so much in this world revolves around the lowest common denominator.

Look for Betty Blue. And more than just a few narcissistic assholes.


Clean

Emily: Hang on…wasn’t I supposed to be making that deal?
Vernon: Yeah, you were supposed to be, three months ago.
Emily: I told you I’m in discussions with two major labels here.
Vernon: Yeah, well, I think it’s time to take what we can get.
Emily: You’re hawking Lee’s music at bargain-basement prices, and you don’t give a fuck!
Vernon: I’m being realistic. I’m in the real world.
Emily: What do you mean by that, the “real world”?
Vernon: I mean as opposed to some psychedelic junkie fantasy world, just for instance. I’m being straight with you.
Emily: Do you realize what this bullshit deal will do to Lee’s career?
Vernon: It’s as good as he’s going to get.
Emily: What? I can do better than that in two phone calls.
Vernon: Two phone calls? Really?
[he hands her a phone]
Vernon: Don’t let me stop you, be my guest. Make your fucking phone calls! Here, make your fucking phone calls!! It’s not my fault his reputation is shit.
Emily: Are you trying to say it’s mine?
Vernon: Yes, I am. So keep out of my way or I will slap you down.

Yep, a "psychedelic junkie fantasy". Too bad about Lee.

Detective: Did you supply your husband with the heroin he overdosed on?
Emily: No.
Detective: And the heroin you were carrying at the time of your arrest, where did you get that from?
Emily: I got it from Lee.

Go ahead, ask him.

Albrecht [Lee's Dad]: I’m sure your lawyer told you. The court handed down its decision yesterday. Jay is staying with us. Father dead, mother in prison.
Emily: Yeah, no home, no job, nothing.
Albrecht: Do you intend to appeal it?
Emily: No, of course not. I can’t take care of him now.

Then it gets...complicated...

Albrecht: Emily. There’s something I’d like to ask you. It’s a bit delicate. You see, it was difficult to explain his father’s death to Jay. He’s a well-adjusted boy, but sensitive. I’m scared. I’d prefer it if for the next few years, you’d agree not to see him. Rosemary and I have done everything we can to give him a stable environment, a home, a sense of belonging…and I’m afraid of unsettling him.

Or getting him....hooked?

Emily: Fuck off! Fuck off!
Jean-Pierre: No need to say it twice.

Unless, perhaps, she means it?

Rosemary: I read the liner notes they want to put with the CD.
Albrecht: So did I.
Rosemay: I didn’t think much of them.
Albrecht: No.
Rosemary: They give a false image of him.
Albrecht: Yeah.
Rosemary: As if there was nothing but drugs in his life.
Albrecht: And misfortune.
Rosemary: It’s not true at all.
Albrecht: It’s journalists. They have this romantic idea of self-destruction.

Want to hear mine?

Elena: How did it go?
Emily: Awful.
Elena: It didn’t work?
Emily: Yeah, it’ll work out. I don’t exactly have a choice. I learned that in prison.
Elena: Learned what?
Emily: To adapt. If I want to see Jay, I have to change my life. Even if the new life sucks.
Elena: Being a junkie was better?
Emily: I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.

Of course: better than what?

Jay: You didn’t tell me I was going to spend the weekend with her.
Albrecht: She’s your mother.
Jay: She killed my Dad. Grandma Rosemary told me so. He died because he took the drugs she gave him.

Taking sides, let's call it. And on and on. The whole situation is a mess. Human all too human. Rosemary is seen as the culprit here but Rosemary is the only one who really has an emotional bond with Jay. And unequivocally wants one. So she has to die. And Emily gets to be creative [and clean] again.

Emily: You know what, drugs are more complicated than most people think they are. Some people need them because they are suffering, because they don’t know how to live any other way. Your dad was like that. And me too.
Jay: Because you are weak.

There you go. Stick yourself in there somewhere and play the blame game.

Nathaniel Hawthorne from The Scarlet Letter

No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.

Let's run that by Martin Vail.

“She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom.

The part about responsibilities I'm guessing.

It is a curious subject of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom.

Like how laughing and crying can become indistinguishable.

She could no longer borrow from the future to ease her present grief.

So she swiped it from others.

She wanted—what some people want throughout life—a grief that should deeply touch her, and thus humanize and make her capable of sympathy.

Been there, done that.
Enough said?

It is to the credit of human nature, that, except where its selfishness is brought into play, it loves more readily than it hates. Hatred, by a gradual and quiet process, will even be transformed to love, unless the change be impeded by a continually new irritation of the original feeling of hostility.

Here? Me, right?

I’m lucky in one respect. The sort of things that bring me the most fulfilment [in my life now] don’t cost a whole lot of money: books, films, music. So, I don’t need fancy cars, clothes, furnishings, food, electronics and the like.

Others, of course, aren’t so lucky: they do. And, as we all know, one of the ways to get a lot of money is to steal it. But we all know the risk in doing that. Or think that we do.

And this guy is only 5’6" tall. So [he feels] in order to compensate he needs money coming in by the barrel. Or he does if he is to keep his tall, leggy [and very beautiful] wife happy.

And the best way to steal a work of art is to replace it with a copy. It could be weeks before someone spots it.

But all this sort of fades into the background when he steals a painting from someone rather adept at tracking down and then stealing lives.

This is a peek into the brave new world to come. Kiss all you thought you knew about your privacy goodbye.

And whenever you hear the expression, “billions of dollars are at stake”, assume that damn near everyone is expendable.

Still, even in Norway the thrillers tend to end in the most incredulous fashion. I mean, come on.

"Roger Ebert praised the movie as “an argument for the kinds of thrillers I miss. It entertains with story elements, in which the scares evolve from human behavior. Unlike too many thrillers that depend on stunts, special effects and the Queasy-Cam, this one devises a plot where it matters what happens. It’s not all kinetic energy.” wiki


Headhunters [Hodejegerne]

Roger [voiceover—rules for stealing art]:
Rule #1 Make sure you know everything about those you visit
Rule #2 Never spend more than 10 minutes in each home
Rule #3 Do not leave any DNA traces
Rule #4 Don’t waste time getting an expensive reproduction. Even a simple forgery will go unnoticed for weeks
Rule #5 Sooner or later one of two things will happen: You find a work of art so valuable you never need to worry again or…you get caught.

Trust me: don't ever get caught by the likes of Clas.

Roger [voiceover]: For someone like me to get what he wants, only one thing counts. Money. Lots of money.

Not many folks that isn't applicable to. And the rest is history.

Roger [to Lander]: This work is by Julian Opie and is worth a quarter of a million dollars. It consists of a few circles and lines. The coloration is monotone and without texture. The only thing – I repeat – the only thing that makes this work worth a quarter of a million is the artist’s reputation.
Lander: And your point is the same goes for leaders?
Roger: Exactly.

And headhunters apparently. Well, reputation and subterfuge.

Roger: How much do you think it’s worth?
Diana: Tens of millions. Maybe a hundred.

The one that gets away?

Roger [aloud to himself]: What the hell is going on here? Shit, what’s going on?!

And then he finds out. The hard way to say the least.

Roger [recalling what Clas had told him]: “Our main research was the tracking of people. Microscopic transmitters.”

Start shaving:

Roger [recalling what Clas had told him]: “We developed this jelly containing hundreds of transmitters per milliliter. It adheres to all materials. It’s invisible and just about impossible to remove.”

From human hair, for example.

Diana: How could you be so goddamn stupid? Steal works of art? To buy things I don’t even need? Who do you think I am?

Now he finds that out!

Clas: I’ll give you a choice. If you tell me what the hell is going on, I’ll shoot you in the head. If not, you’ll get a bullet in your stomach.

Imagine if he used a bazooka!

Roger [voiceover]: My name is Roger Brown. I’m 5’6" tall. And you know what? That’s more than enough.

Like I said about the ending: come on!

Pick up the young gorgeous hitchhiker. Think John Phillip Law. Three folks in a car. Then three folks in a boat.

It’s all intimate and edgy. And then it’s all intimate and…ominous.

A touch of class. Then the male battle. Put the kid in his place. Impress the pretty wife. But the skipper is no match at all in the “looks” department. And he is quite a bit older.

And then there’s the knife. Before and then after it falls into the water.

"Roman Polanski had intended to take on the role of the young hitchhiker himself, but Jerzy Bossak, head of the Polish film unit KAMERA (under whose auspices the film was made), turned him down because he didn’t consider the director attractive enough. The character’s voice, however, is Polanski’s, who later dubbed the part over. Zygmunt Malanowicz had a strong, developed, bass voice, which was quite inappropriate for the character." IMDb


Knife In the Water [Nóz W Wodzie]

Young man: You want to go on with the game?
Andrzej: You aren’t in my class, kid. But come on aboard.

You know what's coming. But that's not actually what does happen at all. This is no Dead Calm.

Andrzej: When two men are on board, only one is the skipper.

Let's run that by Krystyna. Who immediately catches on.

Krystyna: Why did you bring him along?

In other words, "I know why you brought him along."

Andrzej: Get down there.
Young man: What for?
Andrzej: Get in the fo’c’sle. You’ll find a box there.
Krystyna: We’ll be ashore soon. Stop acting the skipper.
Andrzej: There’s a rag in the box.
[the young man brings the rag on deck]
Andrzej: That’s not all. The bucket too.
[the young man puts the bucket on deck]
Andrzej: I want the deck swabbed.
Krystyna: Can’t I do it?
Andrzej: Stay at the helm.

Hmm, I wonder what that's all about?

Young man: Where’s my knife?

More to the point, can he swim?

Krystyna: He’ll drown.
Andrzej: He can swim.
Krystyna: But he said…
Andrzej: He lied.

Let's just say Andrzej is very easy to lie to.

Krystyna: Murderer!
Andrzej: You’re just scared.
Krystyna: Lost your nerve. Tough guy! Phony! Clown! You only took him along to show off!

By this time, however, you're intrigued: how is this all going to actually end?

Krystyna [slapping the young man]: So you can swim!..You’re just like him. Only half his age and twice as dumb.

"Men!", as the veg heads say.

Krystyna: Don’t go to the police. It’s enough you are scared. He was behind the buoy. He dived when we checked. You were gone when he showed up. We shouted.
Andrzej: It’s all nonsense. You’re making it up.
Krystyna: Oh, he’s alive. So much so that I cheated on you with him.
Andrzej: I’m not scared. You are. So much so, you’re fantasizing.

The look on her face? Priceless.

48 hours in the Valley. The Valley.

One of those movies in which there are a whole bunch of little plots that seemingly share nothing in common. And then they get all tangled up in each other. And then nothing is ever quite the same. For the the ones who survive anyway.

For two of them it becomes a romantic comedy. But just them.

The others get it coming and going. Some of them deserve to and some don’t. Just like in real life.


2 Days in the Valley

Lee [pulling out a stopwatch]: You have one minute to decide the rest of your life.

He forgot to run this by Dosmos of course.

Lee: This is the one not to get wrong. Was it Helga who approached you on behalf of the North Koreans?

It might just as well have been the Vatican though.

Dosmo [to Lee]: This thing isn’t about a gambling debt?

What do you think?

Midori: My mother Vietnamese, my father Japanese. How you say…a mutt?

Let's run this by Alvin.

Midori: You want nothing else?

Let's run that by Alvin.

Lee: You know Dosmo, curiosity killed the cat.
Dosmo: Oh, you’re a real pisser, aren’t you? You like fucking with people’s heads? How did you find me?
Lee: I looked you up in the phone book under “washout.”

Next up: that bullet-proof vest.

Logic

“Logic may be conceived as ruling out what is absolutely impossible, and thus determining the field of what in the absence of empirical knowledge is abstractly possible.” Morris F. Cohen.

You know, if only theoretically.

“The success of democracy depends, in the end, on the reliability of the judgments we citizens make, and hence upon our capacity and determination to weigh arguments and evidence rationally.” Irving Copi

Tell me that doesn't explain...everything?

“It's not reasonable to love people who are only going to die.” Kristin Cashore

And they you, of course.

“... for although people can be made worse off by all other gifts, correct reasoning alone can only be for the good.” Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz

Let's run this by John from Cincinnati.

“I, on the other hand, am a finished product. I absorb electrical energy directly and utilize it with an almost one hundred percent efficiency. I am composed of strong metal, am continuously conscious, and can stand extremes of environment easily. These are facts which, with the self-evident proposition that no being can create another being superior to itself, smashes your silly hypothesis to nothing.” Isaac Asimov.

The future let's call it. Though not necessarily the near future.

“We humans seem to be extremely good at generating ideas, theories, and explanations that have the ring of plausibility. We may be relatively deficient, however, in evaluating and testing our ideas once they are formed” Thomas Gilovich.

Solution? Never ever come down out of the clouds?

Basically a day in the life of Jean Michel Basquiat. It seems he needs to raise enough dough to keep his apartment. So he sets out to sell a painting. And along the way we are dipped [dumped] into the 1980s New York art scene. Along with the “club scene”. Along with the “music scene”. Along with the “fashion scene.”

And then there’s the freak show. The Lower East Side: “It looks like a war zone.”

What’s the story? Make one up.

Anyway, the story you are about to see isn’t true. But it isn’t false either.[/b]


Downtown 81

Narrator: Fairy tales can come true. Sometime it might happen to you. Especially when you’re young in New York. But once upon a time this place was the wild frontier and every youngster who was fast on the draw showed up on these streets to try his hand.

Next up: the wild frontier here.

Jean Michel Basquiat: I was free. But the city wasn’t.

In fact, they really don't get much more expensive.

Jean Michel Basquiat: I’m an artist. When you tell people that they usually say, ‘what’s your medium?’ I usually say, ‘extra large.’

He got that from Andy.

Jean Michel Basquiat: Beatrice is a model. She makes more money in one day than I make in a year. And her job is standing still or walking.

Well, that and being drop dead gorgeous.

Jean Michel Basquiat: Our equipment got ripped off.
Strange dude: You band got its equipment ripped off? Yeah, that fits the pattern.
Jean Michel Basquiat: What pattern?
Strange dude: Somebody’s ripped off every small time band in town.
Jean Michel Basquiat: What do you mean, “small time”?
Strange dude: You know, lousy equipment. Who would want to steal your stuff?
Jean Michel Basquiat: Who?
Strange dude: At first I thought it was a maniac but now I think it was a major record company. They used to not just sign guys like you but now they want to destroy you.

Let's explain that. Explaining at the same time how some react to me here in much the same way.

Jean Michel Basquiat: Man, sometimes life is just killing you.

A heroin overdose, for example.

André Gide from The Immoralist

Envying another man's happiness is madness; you wouldn't know what to do with it if you had it.

Find mine and then have a go at it.

'You have to let other people be right' was his answer to their insults. 'It consoles them for not being anything else'.

Let's run that by the Stooges here.
And, no, not just mine.

Yet I'm sure there's something more to be read in a man. People dare not -- they dare not turn the page. The laws of mimicry -- I call them the laws of fear. People are afraid to find themselves alone, and don't find themselves at all. I hate this moral agoraphobia -- it's the worst kind of cowardice. You can't create something without being alone. But who's trying to create here? What seems different in yourself: that's the one rare thing you possess, the one thing which gives each of us his worth; and that's just what we try to suppress. We imitate. And we claim to love life.

Uh, maybe?

Nothing is more fatal to happiness than the remembrance of happiness.

What do you remember?

To know how to free oneself is nothing; the arduous thing is to know what to do with one's freedom.

Whatever that means.

I can't expect others to share my virtues. It's good enough for me if they share my vices.

Ah, the best of all possible worlds.

Do these CCTV complexes actually exist? Once you leave the house everything is within the range of the cameras. This means everything the bad guys do is captured on video. But it also means everything the good guys do is too. A trade off in this day and age? It’s Big Brother, sure, but most folks wouldn’t have it any other way. And if I lived there, I probably wouldn’t either.

The Red Road flats actually do exist in Glascow Scotland. According to wiki, “they were the tallest residential buildings in Europe at the time they were built.”

So I suppose the CCTV cameras exist too.

A working class project. Not the ideal abode for many. Why? Well, given the plight of folks who are clearly expendable to capitalists all manner of dysfunction can pop up: poverty, crime, drugs, booze…trash, filth…hopelessness, despair…men.

Anyway, being a CCTV operator, Jackie spots an ominous specter from the past. She then takes advantage of her job to track him down.

You’re not going to believe why.

Shot in a DOGME 95 style: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dogme_95


Red Road

Phone message: Jackie, it’s Stuart Kincaid. I looked into things for you. There’s not much else to add, I’m afraid. He got early release for good behavior. I’m very sorry. It happens. All I can say as consolation is he will be back in a shot if he messes up.

How about rape? Will that be enough to send him back?
An innocent man. Well, this time anyway.

Jackie [looking at TV monitor]: Christ.
[picks up the phone]
Jackie: This is City Eye control room. Ambulance needed on Kirkland Drive. It’s urgent, please hurry. It looks like a stabbing. A young girl. The girls who stabbed her are cutting through the flats at the back of Kirkland Drive. Several girls around 14. Look like they are from the Petershill School.

Certainly a good thing to have around for stuff like this.

Clyde [to Jackie at party she crashed]: Have we met?

He really doesn't remember.

Clyde: That’s my kid. Brownyn. She’s 13 now.
Jackie: She doesn’t look like you. You don’t get on?
Clyde: We don’t know each other. Her mother told her I was dead. I went to her school last week. She didn’t even know me. I’m working on it.

In the end, the irony of it all.

Clyde [to Jackie]: I’m not quite sure I know what’s going on.

We don't either, in fact.

Jackie: He killed my daughter!
Stevie: He never talks about what he did.

Well, he's about to.

Jackie [on phone to police]: I want to drop the charges against Clyde.

And this time he actually is innocent.

Jackie: You killed my family. How dare you!
Claude: It wasn’t my fault.
Jackie: You were driving, off your head on crack. I want you to tell me about it.
[pause]
Jackie: It was my fault they went out. I needed a break. I shouted at her before she left. I told her to get out of my sight. It was the last thing I said. Please. Please.

Where to even begin...

Clyde: I lost control on the corner. The car went into the bus stop.
Jackie: Did they know?
Clyde: The man saw me, but not the kid. They died instantly.

Just an accident....?

Jackie: My husband’s name was John. My little girl’s name was Sorcha.

In Heaven now?

Clyde: You shouted at your little girl the day she died. But at least she was loved. Some people don’t get that. Fuck this.

So, what, that makes them even?