Quote of the day

[iambiguous]

It might be said this movie is about a lot more than baseball. The foibles embedded deeply in the human condition for example. And the parts of life that just ain’t fair. In fact, there are parts here that just break your heart.

Another Antonio Salieri. He loves what he does but he is just not gifted enough to be anywhere near as good as he needs to be to go all the way to the top. Instead, the gods have the gall to stick him with the task of helping management nurture a moron who is so blessed.

And then there is Annie. Trust me: she knows a lot more about life than just baseball too. And all the other stuff about her is to die for.

It’s a peek inside a world that most of us know little about. And maybe because we don’t really care to. But in some respects the baseball here is more real than the stuff in the “show.” After all, for some of folks here it really is all about the love of the game.


Bull Durham

Annie [voiceover]: I believe in the Church of Baseball. I’ve tried all the major religions, and most of the minor ones. I’ve worshipped Buddha, Allah, Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, trees, mushrooms, and Isadora Duncan. I know things. For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary and there are 108 stitches in a baseball. When I heard that, I gave Jesus a chance. But it just didn’t work out between us. The Lord laid too much guilt on me. I prefer metaphysics to theology. You see, there’s no guilt in baseball, and it’s never boring… which makes it like sex. There’s never been a ballplayer slept with me who didn’t have the best year of his career. Making love is like hitting a baseball: you just gotta relax and concentrate. Besides, I’d never sleep with a player hitting under .250… not unless he had a lot of RBIs and was a great glove man up the middle. You see, there’s a certain amount of life wisdom I give these boys. I can expand their minds. Sometimes when I’ve got a ballplayer alone, I’ll just read Emily Dickinson or Walt Whitman to him, and the guys are so sweet, they always stay and listen. 'Course, a guy’ll listen to anything if he thinks it’s foreplay. I make them feel confident, and they make me feel safe, and pretty. 'Course, what I give them lasts a lifetime; what they give me lasts 142 games. Sometimes it seems like a bad trade. But bad trades are part of baseball - now who can forget Frank Robinson for Milt Pappas, for God’s sake? It’s a long season and you gotta trust it. I’ve tried 'em all, I really have, and the only church that truly feeds the soul, day in, day out, is the Church of Baseball.

I used to love basesball myself. Nothing at all like this however.

Crash: Well, my triple-A contract gets bought out so I can hold some flavor-of-the-month’s dick in the bus leagues, is that it? Well, fuck this fucking game!

Unless, of course, he's run out of options.

Crash: Come on, Rookie, show us that million dollar arm…'cause I got a pretty good idea about that 5 cent head of yours.

So, who pays for the window?

Annie: Oh, where are you going?
Crash: After 12 years in the minor leagues, I don’t try out. Besides, uh, I don’t believe in quantum physics when it comes to matters of the heart.
Annie: What do you believe in, then?
Crash: Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman’s back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.
[pauses then winks and walks away]
Crash: Goodnight.
Annie Savoy: Crash…
Nuke: Hey, Annie, what’s all this molecule stuff?

So, who won?

Crash [to Nuke]: Your shower shoes have fungus on them. You’ll never make it to the bigs with fungus on your shower shoes. Think classy, you’ll be classy. If you win 20 in the show, you can let the fungus grow back and the press’ll think you’re colorful. Until you win 20 in the show, however, it means you are a slob.

And, of course, the equivalent of that here.

Nuke: How come you don’t like me?
Crash: Because you don’t respect yourself, which is your problem. But you don’t respect the game, and that’s my problem. You got a gift.
Nuke: I got a what?
Crash: You got a gift. When you were a baby, the Gods reached down and turned your right arm into a thunderbolt. You got a Hall-of-Fame arm, but you’re pissing it away.
Nuke: I ain’t pissing nothing away. I got a Porsche already; a 911 with a quadrophonic Blaupunkt.
Crash: Christ, you don’t need a quadrophonic Blaupunkt! What you need is a curveball! In the show, everyone can hit heat.
Nuke: Well, how would you know? YOU been in the majors?
Crash: Yeah, I’ve been in the majors.
Player: You were in the show?
Crash: Yeah, I was in the show. I was in the show for 21 days once - the 21 greatest days of my life. You know, you never handle your luggage in the show, somebody else carries your bags. It was great. You hit white balls for batting practice, the ballparks are like cathedrals, the hotels all have room service, and the women all have long legs and brains.

And, of course, the equivalent of that here.

Nuke: Why’s he always calling me meat? I’m the one driving a Porsche.

Then the part about Annie...?

Skip: You guys. You lollygag the ball around the infield. You lollygag your way down to first. You lollygag in and out of the dugout. You know what that makes you? Larry!
Larry: Lollygaggers!
Skip: Lollygaggers.
Skip: What’s our record, Larry?
Larry: Eight and sixteen.
Skip: Eight… and sixteen. How’d we ever win eight?
Larry: It’s a miracle.
Skip: It’s a miracle. This… is a simple game. You throw the ball. You hit the ball. You catch the ball.

Tell that to the other teams?

Crash: It’s time to work on your interviews.
Nuke: My interviews? What do I gotta do?
Crash: You’re gonna have to learn your clichés. You’re gonna have to study them, you’re gonna have to know them. They’re your friends. Write this down: “We gotta play it one day at a time.”
Nuke: Got to play… it’s pretty boring.
Crash: 'Course it’s boring, that’s the point. Write it down. Write, write – “I just wanta give It my best shot and, Good Lord willing, things’ll work out.”

Anyone want to interview me?

Nuke: The other day Crash called a woman’s pu… pussy… um, well, you know how the hair is kind of in a V-shape?
Annie: Yes, I do.
Nuke: Well, he called it the Bermuda Triangle. He said that a man could get lost in there and never be heard from again.

Pick one:
1] genes
2] memes

Crash: I never told him to stay out of your bed.
Annie: You most certainly did.
Crash: I never told him to stay out of your bed.
Annie: Yes you did.
Crash: I told him that a player on a streak has to respect the streak.
Annie: Oh fine.
Crash: You know why? Because they don’t - they don’t happen very often.
Annie: Right.
Crash: If you believe you’re playing well because you’re getting laid, or because you’re not getting laid, or because you wear women’s underwear, then you are! And you should know that!
[long pause]
Crash: Come on, Annie, think of something clever to say, huh? Something full of magic, religion, bullshit. Come on, dazzle me.
Annie: I want you.

Of course, she ends up with Tim Robbins.

Annie [voiceover]: Baseball may be a religion full of magic, cosmic truth, and the fundamental ontological riddles of our time, but it’s also a job.

And you can take that all the way to the bank.

Annie [voiceover]: I stopped worrying about Nuke. Somehow I knew nothing would stop him. The world is made for people who aren’t cursed with self awareness.

Here? Let's name names.

[iambiguous]

Yuval Noah Harari

Yet in truth the lives of most people have meaning only within the network of stories they tell one another.

See, I told you.

One of the greatest fictions of all is to deny the complexity of the world and think in absolute terms.

See, I told you.

Obesity is a double victory for consumerism. Instead of eating little, which will lead to economic contraction, people eat too much and then buy diet products - contributing to economic growth twice over.

Just as Adam Smith predicted, right?

At present, people are happy to give away their most valuable asset—their personal data—in exchange for free email services and funny cat videos. It’s a bit like African and Native American tribes who unwittingly sold entire countries to European imperialists in exchange for colorful beads and cheap trinkets.

Though a bit unlike it too.

Tolerance is not a Sapiens trademark. In modern times, a small difference in skin colour, dialect or religion has been enough to prompt one group of Sapiens to set about exterminating another group. Would ancient Sapiens have been more tolerant towards an entirely different human species? It may well be that when Sapiens encountered Neanderthals, the result was the first and most significant ethnic-cleansing campaign in history.

Next up: These guys: https://knowthyself.forumotion.net/

Soon, books will read you while you are reading them.

On the other hand, how soon?

[iambiguous]

Why Star 80? Of course: Paul Snider’s vanity plates.

Her gift is being beautiful and his is making money off it. Only in America. Or mainly in America, anyway.

Hugh Hefner actually sued the producers of the movie for portraying him as they did. In other other words, they probably nailed him. Though not to a cross. I just watched a documentary on Marylin Monore. Hefner paid 50 bucks for the calendar nudes. It put the magazine on the map and he doesn’t even bother to contact her…to thank her. In his own way, Hefner is as much a slimeball as Snider.

She still sounds a lot like Tracy here. And in some ways she is. At the beginning. But the world that Snider throws her into has absolutely nothing to do with the one Woody Allen introduced her to in Manhattan.

The first thing that pops into your head: How could she not know he was a psychopath? And of course by the time she does find out it is too late. Eventually, she gets too big for his britches. He’s a crass nobody who turns everything he touches into shit. And he just keeps getting smaller and smaller the bigger she gets. And then around the suave and sophisticated Hugh Hefner [and his suave and sophisticated gang of celebrities] he’s like that bull in the china closet. Only on steroids.

Incredibly, she marries this guy. Really, there must be something about the real Paul in the actual relationship they are leaving out here.

Filmed in the apartment where the real Dorothy Stratten was murdered.

Bob Fosse made Paul Snider the main character in the film because he identified with his character the most; he even told Eric Roberts that when he played Snider, he was really playing Fosse, if Fosse had not been successful. IMDb


Star 80

Dorothy [voiceover]: It took me 5 months to shoot my Playboy layout. They took over 20,000 pictures.

Priorities let's call it.

Man: He showed me some polaroids and wanted me to do some test shots. We made a deal. If she got accepted I got a $1,000. That’s the usual finder’s fee that Playboy pays, a thousand.

Sounds about right.

Dorothy’s mother: Who is this “us”, Paul? I don’t see any naked pictures of you. I don’t see you with your privates hanging out…I don’t know. She wouldn’t even walk around the house in her nightgown before she met you.

Sounds about right.

Snider: Have you met him yet?
Dorothy: Who?
Snider: Who? The man! Hugh Hefner.
Dorothy: Oh, he is wonderful. Like a father.
Snider: Where are you calling from?
Dorothy: Mister Hefner’s house.
Snider: You mean the mansion?!

Could be.

Dorothy [voiceover]: Playboy’s motto is “The girl next door”. They look for girls that are wholesome and fresh and young and naive. They look for all that. So most of these girls do have that kind of background.

Sure, it might be true.

Interviewer: What about your mother? How did she feel about your photos in Playboy?
Dorothy: She didn’t like it at all at first. But then she started getting calls from friends congratulating her; she said she started to feel like a movie star.

See how it works?

Snider [aloud to himself—imagining he is confronting Hefner]: Well, you can take your magazine, you mansion and your movies and shove’em ALL up your ass!

Really, what the fuck was he expecting to happen?!

Snider [to the whole world for all intents and purposes]: I found her, you didn’t. I found her.

My guess: Life can be unfair.

Dorothy: What’s wrong with Paul?
Hefner: Well, he’s got the personality of a pimp.

Did he know that?

Geb: Paul, you gotta realize Dorothy is every man’s fantasy. Every man who sees her or sees her pictures in a magazine is going to be coming after her. And there’s always gonna be someone who is richer than you, more famous than you, has a longer penis than you…and there’s nothing you can do about it.

God's will?

[iambiguous]

Even though many will decry the narrative here as biased, let’s not forget one thing: it is not only the folks on the right who level this charge at Stone. Folks on the left have their own complaints. Mainly that Nixon and the political realities portrayed here barely skim the surface in regards to what Marx and Engels construed to be the capitalist political economy.

Watergate was a blip on the screen of Nixon’s “crimes”. More to the point was the manner in which he sought to take the “shadow government” to unprecedented heights [or depths]. Operation Chaos, Operation Cointelpro, the bombing of Cambodia. Stone barely hints at that. And it is basically the kind of stuff that Barrack Obama is still doing today. Only Obama still has 9/11, “terrorism” and “national security” to fall back on. As long as the occasional Boston bombers come along most folks are more than willing to give up a little privacy. And the military industrial complex folks are always ready, willing and able to take advantage of that.

The most important thing is this: All these folks were playing by the rules of realpolitik. None of them had any illusions about the sort of democracy they teach the kids in civics texts.

Of course the thing about human reality is this: however much you try to embed it in history you can never really evade the part that is buried deep down inside the individual man or woman. It’s how the two come together in someone who makes it all the way to the top that is explored here. Stone takes us back to the beginning and shows how Nixon’s parents and siblings and community and times shaped and molded him into someone he would not otherwise have been had his upbringing been entirely different.

But even here it is only from the point of view of particular folks who are also just aggregations of “I” and “we” and “them” situated out in a particular world.

In Hong Kong, the movie was given a title that translated to ‘The Big Liar’.

Oliver Stone said he voted for Nixon in '68, based on his pledge to end the war in Vietnam. IMDb


Nixon

Nixon [to Al Haig]: People have forgotten. Such violence. The tear gassing, the riots…burning the draft cards…the black panthers. We fixed it, Al, and they hate me for it. 'Cause it’s Nixon. They always hated Nixon.

I know that I did.

Ehrlichman: Well, sir, it turns out one of the people implicated is still on the White House payroll.
Nixon: Who? Not another damn Cuban?
Haldeman: No sir. A guy named Hunt. Howard Hunt, sir.
Nixon [Fear creeping on his face]: Hunt? Howard Hunt?

Of course, it's a relatively common name.

Murray Chotiner [on losing the 1960 Presidential election to John F. Kennedy]: They stole it fair and square.

Next up: rat fucking. Just to get things started.

Haldeman: Okay, who’s next?
Ziegler: The Negro. We gotta have a Negro.
Black man in the audience: Mr. Nixon, sir. We-We all know that you have built your career on smearing people as Communists. And now you are building your campaign on the divisions in this country stirring up hatred and turning people against each other.
Haldeman: What the fuck’s he doing? He’s making a speech! Cut him off.
Technician: I can’t. This isn’t Russia.
Haldeman: He sounds like a negro. He’s saying all these negro things! What’s he doing?
Ziegler: He sounded white when we screened him.
Haldeman: Well, he doesn’t sound white now. He sounds like Angela Davis.
Black man: When are you going to tell us what you really stand for?
Haldeman: Put on a commercial.
Technician: There are no commercials. You bought the whole half hour, baby.
Black man: When are you going to take off that mask and show us who you really are?

Of course, that could never happen today, right Don?

Haldeman: You know, if Hunt and the others are C.I.A why don’t we just dump this back in the C.I.A.'s lap…let Dick Helms take the fall?
Nixon: Because. Because Helms knows, knows too much. If there’s anyone in this country who knows more than me…it’s Hoover and Helms, and you don’t fuck with Dick Helms, period.
Haldeman: All right. But why, if Kennedy was so clean in all this, didn’t he cancel Track 2?
Nixon: Because he didn’t even know about it. The C.I.A., uh, never told him. They just kept it going.

Competing shadow governments.

Nixon: Do ever think of death, Dick?
Helms: Flowers are a continual reminder of our mortality. Do you appreciate flowers?
Nixon: No, no they make me sick, and they smell like death. I had two brothers die young… Well let me tell you. There are worse things than death.
Helms: Yes?
[special effects have turned Helms eyes completely black]
Nixon: There’s such a thing as evil.

Remember, Helms has Nixon by the balls. He knows all the secrets.

Helms: You must be familiar with my favorite poem by Yeats, “The Second Coming”. Black Irish. Very moving. “Turning and turning in the widening gyre the flacon cannot hear the falconer. Things fall apart. The center cannot hold. Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. And everywhere the ceremony of innocence is lost. The best lack all conviction. And the worst are full of passionate intensity.” But it ends so beautifully ominous. “What rough beast, its hour come round at last. Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born.” Yes this country stands at such a juncture.

Next up: the center folding.

Kissinger: Your writings have changed the world, Mr. Chairman.
Mao-Tse-Tung: Bullshit. My writings mean absolutely nothing. I want to know your secret.
Kissinger: My secret, Mr. Chairman?
Mao-Tse-Tung: How a fat man like you gets so many girls.
Kissinger: Power, Mr. Chairman is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Fake news? Forunately for him, Reagan was right around the corner.

Mao-Tse-Tung: You are too modest, Mr. Nixon. You are as evil as I am. We are the new emperors. We are both from poor families and others pay to feed the hunger in us. In my case, millions of reactionaries. In your case, millions of Vietnamese.

The transcript please.

Nixon: Presidents don’t threaten, Jack. They don’t have to.

Hard to trump that, right?

Ehrlichman [to Haldeman]: This is all about Richard Nixon. You got people dying because he didn’t make the varsity football team. You got the Constitution hanging by a thread because the old man went to Whittier instead of Yale.

Who does that remind you of?

Ehrlichman: And what is this Bay of Pigs thing? The president goes white every time you mention it.
Haldeman: It’s a code or something.
Ehrlichman: Well, shit, even I figured that out.
Haldeman: I think he means the Kennedy assassination. They went after Castro and in some crazy way it got turned back on Kennedy. I don’t think the old man knows what happened. But he’s afraid to find out.

No, really, who did assassinate him?

Dean: Can I ask you a question? How the hell do you have the temerity to blackmail the President of the United States?
Hunt: That’s not the question, John. The question is: why is he paying?

Want me to tell you?

Haldeman [to Erhlichman]: You do know that you and I are next, right?

You gotta love Watergate!

Hunt [to Dean]: John, sooner or later, sooner, I think, you’re gonna learn a lesson that’s been learned by everyone who’s ever gotten close to Richard Nixon. That he’s the darkness reaching out for the darkness. And eventually, it’s either you or him. Your grave’s already been dug, John.

Actually, as it turned out...

Dean [to Nixon]: This is the sort of thing that Mafia people do, washing money and so forth. We just don’t know about these things because we’re not criminals.

Let's get back to that.

Nixon: They can’t impeach me for bombing Cambodia. The president can bomb anybody he likes.

Two words: Pol Pot.

Nixon [referring to the tape transcripts]: How can you let this shit go through? Look. This. Nixon can’t say that.
Aide: Well, you did say it, sir.
Nixon: Never! I never said that about Jews. Makes me sound like an anti-Semite.
Aide: We can check the tapes again.
Nixon: No need. I know what I said. Have you lost your mind? Look, Al! Nixon can’t say this! “Niggers. Niggers.” It can’t say that!
Haig: We could delete it. We’re doing the best we can.
Nixon: Well, it’s not good enough!
Aide: Would you have us black it out, sir? We could write “expletive deleted.”

Someone pass this on to, well, take a wild guess.

Nixon [to a portrait of Kennedy]: When they look at you, they see what they want to be. When they look at me, they see what they are.

Let's explain that.

[iambiguous]

Ludwig Wittgenstein

Most propositions and questions, that have been written about philosophical matters, are not false, but senseless. ... They are of the same kind as the question whether the Good is more or less identical than the Beautiful.)

You tell me. That second part in particular.

But some of the greatest achievements in philosophy could only be compared with taking up some books which seemed to belong together, and putting them on different shelves; nothing more being final about their positions than that they no longer lie side by side. The onlooker who doesn’t know the difficulty of the task might well think in such a case that nothing at all had been achieved.

I dare someone to bring this down out of the clouds.

Self-evidence, of which Russell has said so much, can only be discarded in logic by language itself preventing every logical mistake. That logic is a priori consists in the fact that we cannot think illogically.

Just out of curiosity, how close does this come to common sense?

The book deals with the problems of philosophy and shows, as I believe, that the method of formulating these problems rests on the misunderstanding of the logic of our language.

Its limitations say.

The man who said that one cannot step into the same river twice said something wrong; one can step into the same river twice.

Word games, or, this time, is he actually on to something.

Certainty is as it were a tone of voice in which one declares how things are, but one does not infer from the tone of voice that one is justified.

See, I told you.

[iambiguous]

Show me a big city without lots of corruption and I’ll show you la la land. Well, maybe not me but I’m sure there are folks in each one of them who can name names. In fact, in New Orleans there is said to be a “culture of corruption”. And I think this means that sooner or later you’re going to have to accept it is somehow hard-wired into the human condition…genetically. And not just down there.

Still, some argue the police are paid such a paltry sum relative to the risks they are asked to take, a little corruption is probably even moral. Especially if the money comes from the “criminal element”. But once you go down that road the pesky problem then resides in deciding just how much corruption is too much corruption. I mean, who really cares if the cop gets a free meal in a local restaurant? But then some of them pursue the long con. Big dope money and murder. Five million dollars worth. And to keep that under the rug cops will even kill other cops. And no one is too high up.

Things get tricky here in particular when the woman prosecuting the case becomes involved with the cop accused of corruption. Morality [even legality] ain’t so black and white when love and lust become entangled in it. But, in the end, it’s all strictly routine.

The production company was aided greatly in its ability to film in and around New Orleans by the state’s Film Commission. Shortly after this film (which is about political corruption) premiered, several members of the Film Commission were indicted in a kickback scandal. IMDb


The Big Easy

Anne: You don’t see anything wrong with accepting free meals? The restaurants expect extra protection in return. And they expect the officier to overlook any code violations.
Remy: Well if all the codes were enforced in this city, you wouldn’t have a single restaurant that could stay open.
Anne: So now you are defending organized corruption?
Remy: I’m not defending anything. This is New Orleans. Folks have a certain way of doing things down here.

Of course, not much that can't explain regarding every big city in the country, or the world or the universe.

Detective [to Remy]: Chew all you want asshole, we’ve got it all on video tape.

Okay, so the corruption can go up a few notches.

Anne: You’re a cop for God’s sake, you’re supposed to uphold the law, but instead you bend it and twist it and sell it. I saw you take that bribe and, and resist arrest and tamper with evidence and perjure yourself under oath.
Remy: Don’t forget I ran a red light too, huh.
Anne: You still think it’s funny, don’t you? Why don’t you just face it, Remy? You’re not one of the good guys anymore.

On the other hand, it doesn't make it any less complicated.

Sgt. Guerra: Sorry boys, but you know I have to pat everyone down.
Ed: Andre here scared of the dark!
Det. DeSoto: Dark, Hell! It’s a jungle out there…
[he empties his pockets of three guns, two knives, brass knuckles, a black-jack, and a baton]
Det. DeSoto: And if that don’t work, I piss on 'em.

Nope, not that I recall.

Remy: You taught me a lot when I first came on the job, Jack. What was okay. What wasn’t okay. Is dealing heroin okay? Is murder okay?

Oh, yeah.

[iambiguous]

The gap between the things [and people] we desire and our capacity to understand this desire…rationally?

You would think these things might be less obscure. Otherwise why would we desire them. Well, it just doesn’t work that way. And not only that but the human condition absurdly embodies this sort of thing. And, more often than not, it is expressed through love and lust. And the occasional explosion. Alas, terrorism is never all that far removed from farce.

The farce being [perhaps] the manner in which we can go about the pursuit of our own private concerns largely oblivious to important events out in the world…events that can have catastophic consequences. It is the perfect environment for pop culture and mindless consumption to flourish. The world of frivolously intertwined narcissists.

But we all connect the dots in our own way. Though oftentimes this is entirely obscure to others.

One character in particular here is so farcical it takes two actresses to play her. And by sheer coincidence [no doubt] both are ravishingly beautiful.

Nothing is as it seems here. Much like the lives we actually live.

Final film directed by Luis Buñuel.

Maria Schneider, frequently nude in Last Tango in Paris, walked off the film in protest at the amount of nude scenes. IMDb

There must be a “director’s cut” out there somewhere. And here no one is reaching for the butter.


That Obscure Object of desire [Cet Obscur Objet du Désir]

Valet: I used to work in a restaurant. One regular, an elderly German, always used to quote one of their philosophers: “If you go with women, carry a big stick.”
Mathieu: That’s not funny.

However, some double-entendres catch you off guard.

Judge: Today’s terrorists are clearly fascinated by danger. Some may be politically motivated, but most are in it for the risk, the exploit. Just you wait, they’ll be on the sports page soon.

Any terrorists here? You're up.

Mathieu: I never stop thinking about you.
Conchita: Neither do I.

Run this by her mother.

Mathieu: Whose is that?
Valet: It’s my TV set, sir.
Mathieu: What’s it for?
Valet: To lend to the young lady. They say it deadens the mind.

They still say that.

Mathieu: Must I wait much longer?
Conchita: If I give you what you want you’ll stop loving me.
Mathieu: You only stay for my money.
Conchita: Unlike you, money means nothing to me. I know where to find it.

Of course, somewhere in the thick of all this, postmodern love endures.

Mathieu: What is he doing here?!
Conchita: He got thrown out of his hotel. He slept here the past three night. Relax, we sleep back to back. Just like you and I.

The young stud let's call me.

Conchita: You’ve never understood me. You think you’re chasing me and that I won’t have you. It’s the opposite. I’m the one who loves you, and who wants you for life.

Figured out what that obsure object desire is yet?

Conchita: You just don’t understand women. You think that by giving me a house, you own me. But you don’t.

Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.

PA announcer: Several left left groups, known to the public as the P.O.P., the, P.R.I.Q.U.E., the C.L.A.W., and R.U.T. have suddenly joined forces in a vast campaign of bombings, under the direction of the R.A.B.J., the Revolutionary Army of the Baby Jesus. These wanton and incomprehensible bombings are designed to disrupt our society and spread total confusion. A number of far-right terrorist groups, notably the P.A.F. and the S.T.I.C., say they will meet the challenge of the extreme left.

Of course, some things will never change, right?

[iambiguous]

God

“From all of our beginnings, we keep reliving the Garden story.”
Ann Voskamp

You first. With or without the fig leaves.

“So the gods must mean something else,” said Jix.
“God, not gods!” insisted Johnnie.
Nick threw up his hands. “God, gods, or whatever,” said Nick. “Right now, it doesn’t matter whether it’s Jesus, or Kukulcan, or a dancing bear at the end of the tunnel. What matters is that we have a clue, and we have to figure it out.”
“Why?” Johnnie asked again. “Why does God – excuse me, I mean ‘the Light of Universal Whatever’- why does it just give us a freakin’ impossible clue? Why can’t it just tell us what we’re supposed to do?”
“Because,” said Mikey. “the Dancing Bear wants us to suffer.” Neal Shusterman

That's my point, of course. Give us a Scripture that even a child can grasp as the One True Path.

“If that were God's plan, it's a bad bargain; I don't want to have to deal with a God like that...My sense is God and I came to an accommodation with each other a couple of decades ago, where he's gotten used to the things that I'm not capable of and I've come to terms with things he's not capable of...and we care very much about each other.” Harold Kushner

Hey, like I always say: "whatever works". At least until it doesn't. In the interim, all that matters for most is what they believe not what they can actually demonstrate.

“If you wait, your heavenly Father will pick you up, carry you out into the night, and make your life sparkle. He wants to dazzle you with the wonder of his love.” Paul E. Miller

So, which of us has waited the longest?

“Dylan Jerome," the lawyer admits, "wanted to sue God for not caring enough about him.” Jodi Picoult

Where's Stephen L. Miles when you need him? Let's talk about it.

“Is it folly to believe in something that is intangible? After all, some of the greatest intangibles are Love, Hope, and Wonder. Another is Deity. The choice to be a fool is yours.” Vera Nazarian

Uh, click?

[iambiguous]

As with the rich [if only in their own way] the truly, truly beautiful are not like you and I.

Well, some of them aren’t anyway. They have their own set of rules. They come and go as they please. And some folks make allowances for them they would never make for others.

And who really knows where nature ends and nurture begins here. Especially when grappling with the wild ones. After all, where does Moudan end and Meimei begin. The innocent little girl, the worldly woman. All in one.

And then there are the stories of those who just “disappear”. Some spend the rest of their lives wondering about them. Some spend the rest of their lives searching for them.

Let’s face it, most of us will spend the rest of our lives wanting to be loved like this. If we can talk ourselves into believing one can be loved like this.

Besides, nothing lasts forever.



Suzhou River [Suzhou He]


Meimei: If I leave you someday would you look for me? Like Marder?
Lou Ye: Yes.
Meimei: Would you look for me forever?
Lou Ye: Yes.
Meimei: Your whole life?
Lou Ye: Yes.
Meimei: You’re lying.

Let's just say we're already a bit confused.

Lou Ye [voiceover]: I like to take my camera to the Suzhou River…and just drift along West to East through Shanghai. There’s a century worth of stories here and rubbish…which makes it the filtiest river. Many people live here anyway making a living on the river. They spend their whole lives here.

Really, really filthy let's say. But then aren't they all?

Lou Ye [voiceover]: Videographer. Pay me and I shoot anything. Weddings, parties…I’l even shoot you pissing or having sex if that’s what you want. But don’t complain if you don’t like what you see. Cameras don’t lie.

Remember when that was actually true?

Lou Ye [voiceover]: But the story is not so simple. There’s more to it. Maybe Mardar’s not simply a courier. What if Xia-Ho has some criminal connections? And what if she and Mardar are lovers?

There's actually more to it than that. Go ahead, I dare you to understand it.

Mardar: You’re good at singing, aren’t you? Sing him something.

So much for young love. The look on her face…

Moudan: How much did you get for me?
Mardar: 45,000.
Moudan: 45 thousand? I’m that cheap?
Mardar: What?
Moudan: I’M THAT CHEAP?!!

She's outta there.

Lou Ye [voiceover]: A few days later Mardar came to see me again. He ranted for a long time. He knew it was me who had him beaten up…but he wasn’t angry. If I would let him go on looking for Moudan he would give Meimei back to me. What was he talking about? The bastard screwed up my life but still had the nerve to smoke my cigarettes and drink my vodka and keep me up all night with his nonsense about love.

Yeah, I think that's...rude?

Mardar [to Lou Ye]: I’m going away for a while. Do you think Moudan is still alive? I feel she is still alive, somewhere in the city. I need to keep looking for her.

And he finds her. Working in a pharmacy. Half way between Moudan and Meimei. Or he imagines that he does. Or Lou Ye imagines that he does.

Meimei: I thought it was just a story. I didn’t think Moudan really existed. I thought he was lying. I thought it was me he wanted.

On the other hand, some might note, who wouldn't want her?

Lou Ye [voiceover]: In the morning I went back to see her. There was so much I wanted to say to her. But I was too late. She was gone.
[he finds a note she had written]
Meimei: “Find me if you love me”

Anyone here love me? Hell, I'll tell you where to find me.

Lou Ye [voiceover]: It was the best damn drink I ever had. It reminded me of the days I had with Meimei. I could run after her, look for her like Mardar. I could go back to my balconey and wait for her to appear on the bridge walking with her arms crossed. And then this love story of mine might go on. But I won’t because nothing lasts forever. So I’ll just take another drink and close my eyes…waiting for the next story to begin.

Make of that what you will.
That's what I did.

[iambiguous]

Joe Abercrombie from The Blade Itself

What a place. Glokta stifled a smile. It reminds me of myself, in a way. We both were magnificent once, and we both have our best days far behind us.

Not only that, but I suspect, as well, they are not likely to ever return.

Why do big men tend to have such little brains? Perhaps they get by on brawn too often, and their minds dry up like plums in the sun.

Next up: big women.

Damn, he was bored. It was a fact, he was only now beginning to realise, that the conversation of the drunk is only interesting to the drunk. A few glasses on wine can be the difference between finding a man a hilarious companion or an insufferable moron.

Cheers.

The blade itself incites to deeds of violence.

Next up: the bazooka itself.

These are dangerous times alright, and yet danger and opportunity often walk hand in hand.

Let's get back to this on Wednesday. Right, Don?

When he’d made it thirty strides or so Logen turned around and looked back. The pot was sitting forlorn by the lake, already filling up with rainwater. They’d been through a lot together, him and that pot. “Fare you well, old friend.” The pot did not reply.

Next up: Wilson.

[iambiguous]

I like clever. So I like this. Though, admittedly, what some call clever others call simply contrived. But then anything clever has to first be contrived. So folks will always argue about how cleverly it is contrived.

Actually, given the protagonist, this crime is engineered. All the parts are fitted meticulously into place and, as a mechanism, it is manufactured much as a watch might be. Only there is a flaw in the design. And that’s too bad [from one point of view] because it really was quite ingenious. But the flaw only comes to the surface after he beat the charge. The first charge.

And the best psyvhological thrillers are the ones in which there is a contest between two very smart people. You get to pick the one you want to be victorious and then see which one it is. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. And sometimes you just can’t make up your mind. For me, this is one of those. The guy is an arrogant, self-serving bastard. But then so is the lawyer.

And this is also about how our legal system [the corporate side, say] is able to throw big bucks at the brightest lawyers out there. And in this Wall Street culture “public service” becomes increasingly less enticing for those who would do the most good.


Fracture

Ted: I love you.
Jennifer: I know.
Ted: Does he…Mrs Smith?
[He shoots his wife dead]

Cue the clever [if rather reluctant] lawyer.

Judge [to Willy]: I appreciate your concern for the dignity of the court 007. Unfortunately, the man is a tax-paying citizen and entitled by our constitution to try and manipulate the legal system like everybody else.

All the way to the bank as it were.

Willy: Look, the gun is in this house. Maybe he was wearing gloves. Maybe he had time to change. But it’s in the house…and I’ll tell you why it’s in the house. Because people were watching the house. And he never came out. And I could be wrong…but I don’t think that the gun grew little gun legs and ran out of the house.

That's where being really, really clever comes into play.

Ted: You know, my grandfather was an egg farmer.
Willy: This isn’t going to be about your, uh, “rough childhood,” is it?
Ted: No, I used to candle eggs at his farm. Do you know what that is? You hold an egg up to the light of a candle and you look for imperfections. The first time I did it he told me to put all the eggs that were cracked or flawed into a bucket for the bakery. And he came back an hour later, and there were 300 eggs in the bakery bucket. He asked me what the hell I was doing. I found a flaw in every single one of them - you know, thin places in the shell; fine, hairline cracks. You look closely enough, you’ll find that everything has a weak spot where it can break, sooner or later.
Willy: You looking for mine?
Ted: I’ve already found yours.
Willy: What is it?
Ted: You’re a winner, Willy.
Willy: Yeah.
[chuckles nervously]
Willy: Well, I guess the joke’s on me then, isn’t it?
Ted [grinning]: You bet your ass, old sport.

And, indeed, for a while there...

Ted: Yes, I wish to object.
Judge: On what grounds?
Ted [getting up]: I don’t know…
Willy: Your honor…
Ted: Um, I don’t know what, uh, you’d call it, but, uh, they… It wasn’t the first time it happened either… but, um. I, um, I don’t know the, uh, legal terminology.
Judge: Well, why don’t you try to explain it in layman’s terms.
Ted: Um… fucking the victim?

Order in the court!

Willy: You taking me off this case?
Joe: Your bags are already packed. Just go.
Willy: Even if I find new evidence?
Joe: From where? The evidence store? What, are they open early the day after Thanksgiving?
Willy: My witness lied to me.
Joe: Yes, because he could. Because you weren’t looking. And I know why. Your head was in the fast lane on your big salary. So you picked that and what we do here…is not very important any more.
Willy: So that’s what this is about, isn’t it? I’m not gonna be like you in 20 years.
Joe: Hey, you be very careful.
Willy: You wanna judge me, be my guest…but this thing was a setup. The confession, everything.
Joe: Maybe. But it didn’t have to turn into a public humiliation for this office. You walked in there unprepared. You were arrogant and sloppy, and you did damage. How much, we don’t even know yet. And I noticed you didn’t even care to ask. But don’t worry yourself, Willy. We’ll clean up after you.

It's time for Willy to visit the clever store.

Lt. Nunally: I warned you about him.
Willy: You warned me that he was smart. You didn’t warn me that you were stupid.

On the other hand, who would have figured just how clever Ted could be.

Doctor: They all move, they-- they twitch, they make sounds. You think they’re dreaming, but they’re not. It’s just–It’s just what’s left of the system. Even if she comes back she may not remember how to speak let alone who shot her.
Willy: What if she can hear you?
Doctor: She can’t.
Willy: It happens, right? People wake up. It’s not impossible.
Doctor: What are you gonna do? Keep asking the same question different ways till you get the answer you want?
Willy: I guess. That’s what I do.
Doctor: Hmm. I knew I shoulda gone to law school.

He gets the answer he wants though. No doubt after that visit to the clever store.

Judge Gardner: You know what nobody understands about certain kinds of low pay public service work, every now and then you get put a fucking stake in a bad guys heart. I’m not supposed to talk about that when I visit third grade classes for career day and it doesn’t get you very far in the country club locker room, but its hard to beat when you actually get to do it.

Yeah but you can’t do that and become rich.

Secretary: You’ve found the murder weapon!
Willy: I haven’t decided that yet.

Here it's ever and always back to this: what would you do?

Ted: You really need to be nice to me now, Willy.
Willy: Why?
Ted: Because…what’s left of a life depends on a machine powered by a cord that leads to a plug in an electrical outlet…and I decide when it gets pulled. That’s why.

Let's just say this can work both ways.

Joe: We all lose, Willy.
Willy: I let a man get away with murder. How am I supposed to live with that?
Joe: Well, you learn to.
Willy: Well, I hope not.
Joe: Well, you know, if it makes you feel any better…technically you let a man get away with attempted murder. For what it’s worth.

Joe may well own the clever store.
Even if he doesn't know it yet.

Ted [to Willy]: And the look on his face, oh. He was trying to get her back to life. And I was pissing myself laughing. Because I took both the bastards out with one fucking bullet.

Don't push your lock, asshole.

Willy [to Ted]: She was alive. When you first went to trial for attempted murder your wife was still alive. But you just had to pull that plug, didn’t you?

Get it?

Willy [to Ted]: I just don’t know why you didn’t let it go. Doctor said, uh, she probably woulda outlived us all.

Technically.

[iambiguous]

This is world entirely alien to me. It’s the mid nineteenth century in New Zealand. A “backwater” community on the west coast. A white coummunity interacting with the native Maori community. So, I wouldn’t even begin to pass judgments on the behaviors I see. Mostly I wonder this: Could this have been a true story? It’s not. But could it have been?

Try to imagine the gap – the psychological gap alone – between a “cultured” woman from Glascow, Scotland married off to man from the sticks on the other side of the world. He is a decent sort who wants to make her happy but as far as she is concerned he may as well be from the dark side of the moon.

Same with George. Another “oaf” as Flora puts it. But this one is able somehow to figure out a way to fit the piano into his relationship with her. One key at a time as it were. This way he might win her heart. And [being a man] all the other parts too.

It must be something women have to deal with all the time. They know the part about sex has to be factored in. But what about the parts that are more than that? What about the parts that make a relationship fuller? Anyway, this is one of the strangest love stories you’ll ever see. On or off the screen.

The last movie Nirvana Frontman Kurt Cobain watched before he died.

Despite winning an Oscar at a young age, Anna Paquin admitted to David Letterman in 2009 that she recently watched the film for the first time. IMDb


The Piano

Ada [voiceover]: The voice you hear is not my speaking voice–but my mind’s voice. I have not spoken since I was six years old. No one knows why–not even me. My father says it is a dark talent, and the day I take it into my head to stop breathing will be my last. Today he married me to a man I have not yet met. Soon my daughter and I shall join him in his own country. My husband writes that my muteness does not bother him - and hark this! He says, “God loves dumb creatures, so why not I?”

What could possibly go wrong?

Stewart: What would you think if someone played a kitchen table like it were a piano?
Aunt Morag: Like it were a piano?
Stewart: It’s strange isn’t it? I mean it’s not a piano, it doesn’t make any sound.
Aunt Morag: No, no sound.
Stewart: I knew she was mute, but now I’m thinking it’s more than that. I’m wondering if she’s not brain affected.
Aunt Morag: No sound at all?
Stewart: No, it was a table.

I guess they just didn't understand something they had never before encountered.

Stewart: Flora will explain anything Ada says. They talk through their fingers. You can’t believe what they say with just their hands.

Most of us are still baffled by it.

Ada: I have told you the story of your father many, many times.
Flora: Oh, tell me again! Was he a teacher?
Ada: Yes.
Flora: How did you speak to him?
Ada: I didn’t need to speak. I could lay thoughts out in his mind like they were a sheet.
Flora: Why didn’t you get married?
Ada: He became frightened and stopped listening.

That ever happen to you?

Flora: She says its her piano and she won’t have him touch it. He’s an oaf. He can’t read. He’s ignorant.
Stewart: He wants to improve himself. And you’ll be able to play it. Teach him how to look after it. You can’t go on like this. We’re a family now. We all make sacrifices and so will you! You will teach him and I will see to it!

Next up: strip piano.

George [to Ada]: Undo your dress. I want to see your arms. Play. Two keys.

See where this is going?

George: I want to lie together without clothes on.

Ten keys.

George: I have given the piano back to you. I’ve had enough. The arrangement is making you a whore, and me, wretched. I want you to care for me. But you can’t. It’s yours, leave. Go on, go.

The smartest thing he could have said to her. Not that he knew this, I suspect.

George: Ada, I’m unhappy. 'Cause I want you. 'Cause my mind has seized on you and can think of nothing else. This is why I’ve suffered. I am sick with longing. I don’t eat, I don’t sleep. So, if you have come with no feeling for me, then go. Go. Go. Get out. Leave!

On the other hand, one suspects that he really, really means it. With men and sex, however, how can women really know?

Stewart [to Flora]: Take this to Baines. Tell him if he ever tries to see her again I’ll take off another and another and another!

“This” being one of Ada’s fingers.

George: What happened? Tell me. Tell me! Where is she? Shh. Quiet down! Quiet down. Where is she?
Flora: He chopped it off.
George: What did she tell him? What did she tell him? I’m going to crush his skull.
Flora: Nooo! No, no! He’ll chop her up!

Click, let's say.

Flora: Actually, to tell you the whole truth, Mother says that most people speak rubbish, and it’s not worth it to listen.
Aunt Morag: Well, that is a strong opinion.
Flora: Aye. It’s unholy.

Let's make it unholy here.

Stewart [to George]: Understand me. I am here for her, for her I wonder that I don’t wake, that I am not asleep to be here talking with you. I love her. But what is the use? She doesn’t care for me. I wish her gone. I wish you gone. I want to wake and find it was a dream, that is what I want. I want to believe I am not this man. I want my self back; the one I know.

Pick two:
1] the beginning of the end
2] the end of the beginning

Ada [voiceover]: I teach piano now in Nelson. George has fashioned me a metal finger tip, I am quite the town freak which satisfies! I am learning to speak. My sound is still so bad I am ashamed. I practice only when I am alone and it is dark.

Well, good for her!

Ada [voiceover]: At night! I think of my piano in its ocean grave, and sometimes of myself floating above it. Down there everything is so still and silent that it lulls me to sleep. It is a weird lullaby and so it is; it is mine.

Of course, I'll never stop wanting it to be mine as well.

Ada [voiceover]: “There is a silence where hath been no sound / There is a silence where no sound may be / In the cold grave, under the deep deep sea.” Thomas Hood.

He wondered who here would be next to walk the plank.

[iambiguous]

Death

“Dead. Never been that before. Not even once.” Jasper Fforde

Can you say that? Or, perhaps, more to the point, can you defend that?.

“I felt despair. The word’s overused and banalified now, despair, but it’s a serious word, and I’m using it seriously. David Foster Wallace

Yeah, we certainly get that now.

For me [death] denotes a simple admixture — a weird yearning for death combined with a crushing sense of my own smallness and futility that presents as a fear of death. It’s maybe close to what people call dread or angst. But it’s not these things, quite. It’s more like wanting to die in order to escape the unbearable feeling of becoming aware that I’m small and weak and selfish and going without any doubt at all to die. It’s wanting to jump overboard.” David Foster Wallace

Let's just say he took this down out of the clouds.

“To whom could I put this question (with any hope of an answer)? Does being able to live without someone you loved mean you loved her less than you thought...?” Roland Barthes

Of course, a postmodern question deserves a postmodern answer. Though practically every one of them just leads to...you tell me.

“What happens if you get scared half to death twice?” Steven Wright

And not just philosophically.

“I was not, I was, I am not, I care not.” Epicurus

Now, especially, I suspect.

[iambiguous]

Move over Travis Bickle.

A grimmer man. A grimmer world. A grimmer movie. It looks as though someone smeared a film of shit over the camera lens.

In some respects, Taxi Driver is a day at the beach next to this one. It’s unrelentingly bleak, brutal…foreboding. I suspect that most will react to it depending in large part on just how deep the hole they are in is now. Though some no doubt will inject a nihilistic philosophy into it and see it all as some sort of commentary on “the human condition”.

The Butcher after all is considerably more philosophical than Bickel. He has given this thing more, uh, thought.

Truly, it takes cynicism to a whole other level. For example, it leaves my own trailing in the dust. But there’s also this part:

"The Butcher: The rich hardly ever go to prison. Prison is made for the poor. And laws are made for the rich. So the poor got no right to steal. Just to be ripped off and fucked over. No problem with that! White-collar scumbags like him can steal your money, your happiness and your dignity. All in total legality. Every day these crooks, sons of crooks, protected by laws written by their kin, slip their hand in your pocket and their finger up your ass…What’s more they want you to smile."

He tries [again and again] to find work. But nothing is available for a butcher. Times apparently are tough. He wants a new Robespierre to come along. Him for example. Only on a much smaller scale. He’s got one gun and three bullets.

Note: Some explicit language.


I Stand Alone [Seul Contre Tous]

The Butcher [after an unsuccessful job interview at a slaughterhouse]: What? A fairy treating me like that? Tell me I’m dreaming! As if I didn’t know his wife dropped him the day she caught him having his sphincter rimmed by an employee. All the horsemeat butchers in Paris know that little Mr. Blanchat likes cock. He lets his ass do the blow jobs. And who’s he to be so proud? I hear his father was of the same ilk. I wonder why there are so many queers among the rich. Must be their lack of strenuous effort. They lounge around doing jack shit and their genes grow soft and degenerate. Yes indeed, that’s the way it is. France Fruitcake, not Horsemeat! Bullshit liar! I’m ashamed this guy is French. France is truly the kingdom of double-crossing scum. The better they dress the worse they are. Application card, my ass! I should have blown the scum away on the spot.

Just give him time.

[MORALITY, in huge block letters, is displayed against a black screen at opening of film]
Man: You know what Morality is? I’ll tell you what it is. Morality is made for those who own it. The rich. And you know who’s always right? The rich. And the poor pay the price.
[JUSTICE displayed and then back to bar]
Man: You want to see my Morality?
Captive bar patron: Yeah.
Man: Yeah?
Captive bar patron: Yeah.
Man: Sure you won’t regret it?
Captive bar patron: I don’t know.
Man: I think it’s gonna scare you. Take a look.
[Pulls out and displays an automatic pistol]
Man: That’s Morality for you. You know why I carry this around? Huh? Because the guy in blue who shows off his Morality, dig? He’s got the upper hand, dig? He and his fucking Justice. But I… But I… Here’s my Justice.
[bar patron is obviously disturbed but is trying hard not to show his discomfort]
Man: Whether you’re right or whether you’re wrong. Same difference, friend.
[He finally stops waving the pistol and with a sense of satisfaction puts it back beneath his leather jacket]

Just give him a little more time still.

[Various photographs, relevant to the narration are displayed, as the narrator continues]

Narrator: There’s nothing to it. It’s the life of a sorry chump. They should write that someday. The story of a man like so many others, as common as can be. It starts off in France, shithole of cheese and Nazi lovers. Our man is born near Paris in 1939. In '41 his mother abandons him. He’ll never see her again. At the War’s end, he finally finds our who his father was. A French Communist killed in a German death camp. He’s now six years old. Inner turmoil is part of him. Meanwhile, an educator nabs his innocence in the name of Jesus. At the age of 14, driven by survival, he learns to be a butcher. For ten years he works around saving up penny after penny to pay for his market place. At 30, he succeeds and sets up shop in Aubervilliers. After a rough couple of years, his horsemeat trade gains momentum.

Sound familar?

Narrator: At last he can start living. He dates a young worker and bursts her hymen at the Hotel of the Future across the street from the factory she works in. But events precipitate. Nine months later, he fathers a baby girl, Cynthia, rejected by the mother. She abandons them and he’s forced to raise his daughter on his own. Years go by. The meat market struggles on. The butcher pays installments on a small flat. He raises his daughter, who’s locked in muteness.

Bummer?

Narrator: Stricken by an unfamiliar pain, she heads for her father’s shop. A worker tries to seduce her on her way over. A neighbor spots them and takes the girl to her father. Seeing blood on her skirt, he can only think of rape. He grabs a knife and takes off after the criminal. On a nearby construction site he sees another worker. The butcher stabs his knife into his face. The innocent man survives, the butcher winds up in jail and his daughter is placed in an institution. He writes a few letters to her. Months go by. The butcher is forced to give up his flat and shop. He’s out of jail, but all is lost.

Grim, meet gtimmer. Then on and on in the same vein the narrator goes.

The Butcher [voiceover]: Death isn’t much of anything in the end. We make such a big deal out of it. But up close, it’s like nothing. A body without life, nothing more. People are like animals. You love them, you bury them and then it’s over. Still, it’s my first time seeing it. Hers too. But she seems all upset. Yet there’s nothing to get all mushy over. All right, yeah. I’ll walk her home. She looks fragile. Besides…she’s pretty.

Then, as I recall, what may well be the most pathetic sex scene ever filmed.

The Butcher [voiceover]: Love, friendship, it’s all bullshit. Juvenile illusions to hide the fact that human relations are nothing but cheap business.

Reminds me of the time I was once this optimistic.

The Butcher [voiceover]: The hotel owner, your friends, the barber. They don’t give a fuck. Show them you’re not in the money and they’ll throw your ass out. And they’ll do it in the most humilating way.

Well, after all, ever since it was invented, money talked turkey.

The Butcher [voiceover]: It’s clear. To each his own Morality. To each his own Justice.

Clearer to some more than to others, he suspected.

Title card: WARNING: YOU HAVE 30 SECONDS TO LEAVE THE SCREENING OF THIS FILM…DANGER DANGER DANGER

Dangerous to some more than to others, he suspected.

The Butcher [in his head…and on the screen…he has just raped and killed his daughter…now he has the gun pressed to his neck]: Here we go. They won’t escape. The red button. Soon, the void. And all they’re gonna get from me is shreds of my brain. The void. Here I go. It’s over.

That ever happen to you?

The Butcher [voiceover]: I don’t know how today’s going to end. But here with you, I exist. And I’m happy.
[he unbuttons his daughter’s jacket and starts to fondle her breast]
The rest doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s our last day. Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll never shoot myself. Maybe I’ll make love to you. And tomorrow I’ll be locked up. So what? Jail isn’t the end of the world. If worse comes to worse, I can always hang myself.

Grimmer, meet grimmest.

The Butcher [voiceover]: In the end, maybe my life has meaning. To protect you. To bring you all the happiness that nobody else will ever give you. You are my little girl. And I will make you … a woman. We’ll do it. And we’ll be happy. It will be our secret.

Let's all weep for her future together.

The Butcher [voiceover]: People think they’re free. But freedom doesn’t exist. There are only the laws that strangers have made for their own good. Laws that bind me to unhappiness. And among those laws one says I must not love you because you are my daughter. And why? If they forbid us this love, it’s surely not because it’s evil…but because it’s too powerful. Between us…that’s I’ll I can see.

That's all I saw myself back then. Just don't confuse me with him.

[iambiguous]

If anyone had told me 20 years ago, I’d be watching a fascinating film depicting “the moving true story of volunteers protecting antelope against poachers in the severe mountains of Tibet”, I probably would have responded with, "say what?"

The poachers here use machine guns. And the antelope are all out on the open plain. Of course they do have their reasons. It seems the wool from the animals is highly prized in “foreign markets”. And that’ll do it, of course. So here we have the local folks just trying to earn a living in order to subsist from day to day and the capitalists well up the chain of command where the really big bucks are made.

It’s the way of the world. And all of this becomes entangled in faith and a way of life that seems rather futile to me. Only it turns out it is not. But how much longer can it be sustained in this strange admixture of the modern and the traditional.

Here it is not only men but nature too that can be merciless. The quicksand for example. It’s unlike any I have ever seen depicted in film.


Mountain Patrol [Kekexili]

Ga Yu [voiceover]: Kekexili… the last virgin wilderness of China. This plain, nearly 4,700 meters high… is the only remaining habitat of the Tibetan antelope. In 1985, poachers began hunting antelopes for their fine wool…which was prized in foreign markets. Within a few years the number of antelopes plunged from one million to under 10,000.

For some, of course, a buck is a buck.

Ga Yu [voiceover]: A volunteer civilian patrol was formed in 1993 to combat the poachers. It was led by Ritai, a retired Tibetan army officer. The patrol fought fierce battles with the poachers arousing the attention of the outside world. In the winter of 1996 poachers murdered one of the patrolmen. My newspaper immediately sent me to cover the story.

A story we probably all missed.

Ri Tai: Qiangba’s not with us anymore.
A-Wang: Chasing after another girl?
Ri Tai: He was killed by the poachers. You be careful.

And you can never be too careful when it's all about the Benjamins.

Ma Zhanlin: I skin the animals.
Ga Yu: How much do they pay you?
Ma Zhanlin: Five Yuan for each pelt. I’m the fastest skinner in Ge’ermu. All my children are here, too. He’s my eldest, here’s the middle one, and the youngest. They’re all skinners. In the past, I was a shepherd. I herded sheep, cattle, and camels. Now the grasslands have turned into desert. The sheep and cattle all gone dead or sold off. It’s tough to survive here.

Next up: those in the "foreign markets" who buy them?

Patrolman: In Kekexili each step may be the first human footprint ever made on that spot since the world began. Those aren’t my words. Two years ago, a geologist came from Beijing. I took him to Kekexili and he said that to me.

Of course, that is likely to impress some more than others.

Ga Yu: Your whole situation looks pretty desperate.
Ri Tai: We’re short of money, short of men, short of guns. My guys haven’t been paid for almost a year.
Ga Yu: Can the country help?
Ri Tai: We’re not officially employed.
Ga Yu: How do you pay for the patrol?
Ri Tai: We have to raise the money ourselves.
Ga Yu: What do you do with the pelts?
Ri Tai: We hand most of them over to the authorities.
Ga Yu: Do you sell some to raise the money?
Ri Tai: I’ve sold the pelts before. I had no choice.

And why not? If you can sell the pelts to raise the money to fund the patrols that go after the poachers, it will be as though the antelopes did not die in vain.

Ri Tai: You killed my antelope.
Gunman: So did a lot of people.
Ri Tai: That’s no excuse.
Gunman: So what do you want?
Ri Tai: You to come with me.
Gunman: Captain, if you let me off the hook…I’ll buy you two cars and I’ll build you a new house, too.
Ri Tai: Surrender your guns and come with me.
Gunman: Sure! Let’s give the Captain our guns. We’ll join his mountain patrol.
[the others all laugh]

Then Ri Tai is shot dead.

Titlecard: This film was inspired by the Wild Yak Brigade, a real life volunteer group that patrolled the Tibetan Plateau during the 1990s. The volunteers helped raise international awareness, leading to a reduction in poaching and a clamp down on the illegal trade of shahtoosh, the wool of the Tibetan antelope. The population of Tibetan antelope in 2006 was believed to be more than 100,000 and growing. The Chinese government disbanded the brigade in 2001 after establishing its own anti-poaching unit to help protect the animals.

Whatever works?