Archive for January, 2011

A Study Of Castration Complex

# Black Swan – review | Film | The Observer

# FILM: Black Swan- Almost Perfect | The Spectator


Maze, Minotaur And Axe ~ Dark Side Of Humanity

‘The Labyrinth and Minotaur in Greek Mythology can be read as symbols of the dark side of humanity, the Minotaur represents the ‘Beast’ in the human psyche that we hide away in the ‘Labyrinth’ of the unconscious mind.’

So, the ‘Beast’ hiding away to be slayed must be extracted out of the unconscious mind in order to be dealt with. This can only but mean that the ‘beast’ to go through an extraction must, can, only be but that it means the beast been thought out and made conscious in a knowing way for anyone to be able to understand its nature and reality and also see its context and its functionality for what it is. Its cosmic design.

This figuring out, this writing of the beast into extinction is the understanding on the half man half machine jackknifing weapon user. The weapon revealed for its machination and the user revealed for their skullduggery.

‘ …..exists, resides in the ordinary, the banal, the everyday.

‘.Jack, as we are, is trapped in circle of evil he does not understand, a labyrinth created of memories which have proven unreliable and pathways that are then forgotten.”

Sexual Wish Fullfillment/ Sexual Yearning

#  Fellini skewers Mussolini’s ludicrous posturings and those of a catholic church that “imprisoned Italians in a perpetual adolescence” by mocking himself and his fellow villagers in comic scenes that underline their incapacity to adopt genuine moral responsibility or outgrow foolish sexual fantasies.

# Sexual wish fullfillment.

The orgy is frozen in ritual, and devoted not to pleasure but to authority and fear.

# Eyes Wide Shut is one of the most moving, playful, and complex movies I have ever seen.  I love the way Stanley Kubrick expresses the film’stheme of social and psychological doubleness through a double entendrein the film’s very title–”I’s Wide Shut”–and through his choice, forthe title song, of a waltz by Dmitry Shostakovich, a guileful composerfamous for writing music whose subtle motifs seemed to celebrate Stalinbut actually undermined him. I love the film’s spare, almost allegoricalportrait of the tension and complexity at the heart of a marriage. Soimagine my alarm when, picking up one magazine and newspaper afteranother, I read reviews calling Kubrick’s film a disaster and a titanicerror, trite and self-important, one of the worst movies the critics hadever seen.“I can state unequivocally that the late Stanley Kubrick, in his finalfilm, ‘Eyes Wide Shut,’ has staged the most pompous orgy in the historyof the movies.” -David Denby in The New Yorker“Ridiculously though intellectually overhyped for the very marginalentertainment, edification and titillation it provides over its somewhatturgid 159-minute running time.” -Andrew Sarris in The New York Observer“This two hour and 39 minute gloss on Arthur Schnitzler’s fantasmagoricnovella feels like a rough draft at best.” -J. Hoberman in The VillageVoice“In Eyes Wide Shut nothing works.” -Louis Menand in The New York Reviewof Books“An unfortunate misstep.” -Michiko Kakutani in the New York TimesI soon began to discover something even more startling. Not a singlecritic, not even those few who claimed to like Eyes Wide Shut, made anyattempt to understand the film on its own artistic terms. Instead, thecritics denounced the film for not living up to the claims itspublicists had made for it, reduced it to a question of its director’spersonality, measured it by how much information it conveyed about thefamiliar world around us. And I realized that something that had beenstirring around in the depths of the culture had risen to the surface.After years of vindictive, leveling memoirs of artistic figures; aftercountless novels, plays, films, paintings, and installations constructedto address one social issue or another; after dozens of books have beenpublished proclaiming the importance of the “great books” and “humanistideas” to such a point of inflation that the effect was to bun’ thespecificity of great books and of original ideas-after the storm of allthis self-indulgence had passed, a new cultural reality had taken shape.Our official arbiters of culture have lost the gift of being able tocomprehend a work of art that does not reflect their immediateexperience; they have become afraid of genuine art. Art-phobia is nowthe dominant sensibility of the official culture, and art-phobiaannihilated Stanley Kubrick’s autumnal work. Much talk–some of it real,a lot of it fake–has been in the air over the last decade about empathyfor the “other,” for people different from us. But no one has dwelled onthe essential otherness of a work of art. There is, after all, thathackneyed but profound notion of a willing suspension of disbelief.Genuine art makes you stake your credulity on the patently counterfeit.It takes you by surprise. And for art to take you by surprise, you haveto put yourself in the power of another world–the work of art–and ithe power of another person–the artist. Yet everything in our society,so saturated with economic imperatives, tells us not to surrender ourinterests even for a moment, tells us that the only forms of culturalexpression we can trust are those that give us instant gratification,useful information, or a reflected image of ourselves. So we are floodedwith the kind of art that deprecates attentiveness, tells us about theissues of the day, and corresponds to our own personalities. And if agenuine work of art appears that has none of these qualities, criticsimpose them anyway, for they fear that if they surrender themselves tothe work’s strangeness, they will seem vulnerable and naive anintellectually unreliable. Eyes Wide Shut is the story of an affluentManhattan doctor named Bill Harford (Tom Cruise) and his wife, Alice(Nicole Kidman). One night during Christmas season, Bill and Alice go toa lavish holiday ball thrown by one of Bill’s patients, the shady andsuperwealthy Victor Ziegler. Alice dances with a dashing Hungarianstranger, who tries to seduce her, and Bill is almost lured from theparty by a pair of stunning models. Arriving home, Bill and Alice makelove. The next night Alice smokes a joint and tells Bill about theHungarian’s advances; he chuckles and shrugs it off. Annoyed by herhusband’s indifference to the power of her sexuality, Alice, in revenge,reveals that during the previous summer she found herself so attractedto a naval officer who was staying in their hotel that she would havegiven up Bill and their seven-year-old daughter, Helena, to be with him.Bill becomes obsessed with Alice’s story, and he plays over and over inhis mind the image–one in black-and-white tones by Kubrick–of Alicemaking furious love with the officer. The rest of the movie follows Billas he moves through a world whose hidden erotic nature his obsession hasuncovered: his adventures include encounters with a prostitute and witha nymphet in a costume shop and end with a masked orgy in a Long Islandmansion at which Bill is discovered, exposed as an intruder, and nearlypunished, until a mysterious woman offers herself up as a sacrifice inorder to save his life. He escapes, and the film ends with Bill andAlice and Helena searching for Christmas presents in a toy store. Now,it is perfectly possible not to like this film; I know more than a fewsensitive and intelligent people who felt they could have lived withoutit. The film has its longueurs; it is full of puzzles, riddles, andgames;  it is highly orchestrated and stylized, like a cross betweenKrzysztof Kieslowski and No drama. Iris perfectly possible not to likeKieslowski or No drama either; for that matter, it is possible todislike Ezra Pound’s Cantos or Henrik Ibsen’s plays or Andrea delSarto’s paintings. But one cannot simply dismiss them. One must makeone’s negative judgment of them also a mode of understanding them. Thereis pleasure as a form of diversion, and there is pleasure as a form ofattention. South Park is in the former category; I can say that Idislike it, and no one is going to ask me for an interpretation thatwill support my dislike, for the simple reason that if I interpreted it,I would be ignoring the movie’s simple, diverting nature. I would getlaughed at. But I cannot just dismiss Hedda Gabler without interpretingit. If I did, I would be ignoring the play’s purpose of laying claim tothe attention. I would be in no position to judge its worthiness.  Thecritics were in no position to judge the worthiness of Eyes Wide Shut;they took the wrong tack. Since the film’s producers had mounted such animmensely noisy publicity campaign–Kubrick’s last film; one of theworld’s greatest directors tackles the subject of sex, sex, sex bystaging the most erotic orgy scene ever filmed; see Nicole Kidman nude;see Tom Cruise nude; see the couple married in real life make love onthe screen–the critics had to show that they were not going to allowbullying commerce to determine their experience of the film. So theydecided not to respond to the film. They decided to respond to the hype.And the result was that the hype totally determined their experience ofthe film. They wrote about it as if it were a work of diversion and nota work of attention. Consider this admission from Andrew Sarris, writingin The New York Observer. “Perhaps if Eyes Wide Shut just popped out ofthe blue without all the infernal hype and infomercials I might haveappreciated it more for its uncommon virtues…” This is a trulyastounding thing to say, since no one was stopping Sarris from ignoringthe hype and appreciating the virtues. Such weariness toward thecommercial world was flaunted by most of the critics. J. Hoberman beganhis review by disclosing the information that Warner Bros. produced thefilm and that Time-Warner Bros.’s “corporate sibling”–”shamelessly”promoted it. So what? Pope Julius shamelessly promoted the ceiling ofthe Sistine Chapel. In The New York Review of Books, Louis Menand wentfarthest of all. Asserting that Kubrick hadn’t finished the film, heconcluded that even if he had, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, becausethe people who made the film “became inflated by their own hype.” Andwhat if the people who made the film actually did not become inflated bytheir own hype? How would Menand know either way? But the critics wouldnot be restrained. They had to prove that they were not about to havethe wool pulled over their eyes by commercial culture–even if they hadto trample on a work of art to prove it.  It just so happens that rightaround the time Eyes Wide Shut opened in the theaters, a book came Outabout Kubrick and the film that gave the critics exactly what they werelooking for. Eyes Wide Open, by Frederic Raphael, is a memoir of thedirector by a screenwriter who shares with Kubrick a writing credit onthe film. The book is an act of revenge. Raphael is convinced thatKubrick stifled his talent and commandeered the script. As payback forKubrick’s indifference to his genius, Raphael paints a devastatinglycorrosive picture of the director as an obsessive tyrant who squeezesthe life out of scripts, scriptwriters, and actors. And since thisportrait of Kubrick corresponded in fact, if not in tone, to some otherrecent accounts of him, the critics seized on Raphael’s memoir as aguide to the film. In truth, they had no choice, even if they knew thatRaphael’s memoir was “self-promoting,” as Menand put it. Raphael’s imageof Kubrick as a tyrant went to the core of the general artist-phobia.And once this picture of Kubrick–the mean, controlling ge-nius, themaniacal director who shot scenes forty or fifty times-was in the air,no one could write about the movie without taking this information intoaccount. Those who did would look like they were out of the loop. Theywould give the embarrassing appearance of people who, in 1999, did notknow how to assimilate information. I have never before read reviews inwhich the issue was the working habits of the director rather than thequalities of the film itself.  Menand, on one of Kidman’s scenes: “Shereally gives it, in what was plainly the ninety-ninth take, an earnesteffort.” How could Menand possibly know that this was the ninety-ninthtake? He is substituting information that he has gotten about how thedirector operates for what he, as a critic, should be doing, which is tomake sense of how the scene works. Andrew Sarris solemnly dwelled a biton Andrew Sarris (“I am booking [Full Metal Jacket] this term for myColumbia genre class on the War Film…”), and then he pronouncedjudgment on Eyes Wide Shut using Raphael’s framework: “morecontrol-freak unreality than visual genius.” David Denby also respondedto Raphael’s picture of Kubrick as a figure of oppressive authority whoinstills fear: “Even, however, if you let your imagination run wild, theatmosphere–sombre, trance-like, unimpassioned-should hold you in check.The orgy is frozen in ritual, and devoted not to pleasure but toauthority and fear.” Yet this formidable and reliable critic neverbothered to ask himself whether Kubrick deliberately made the orgy seemdevoted to authority and fear. According to Raphael, Kubrick insistedthat he stick faithfully to Schnitzler’s novel. Here, too, the criticsswallowed Raphael whole:Menand: “Schnitzler’s story is set in turn-of-the-century Vienna andKubrick’s movie is set in contemporary New York City, but otherwise theadaptation is pretty faithful.”Hoberman: “The script…is…surprisingly faithful to the 1926Schnitzler original.”kakutani: “The movie was faithfully adapted from a 1926 novella calledRhapsody: A Dream Novel’ by the Viennese writer Arthur Schnitzler.”The fact is that the screenplay follows only the skeleton of the novel.(Was everybody able to get a copy of the Schnitzler in time to meettheir deadlines? It’s been out of print for years, and I spent daysfinding mine.) In the novel, the Bill character answers Alice’sconfession of an adulterous desire with his own tale of adulterousdesire. In the movie, he doesn’t. In the novel, the Bill character sayshe remembers having seen the man Alice desires. In the movie, Bill doesnot. In the novel, the Bill character leaves the prostitute because heis revolted by her. In the movie, Bill is interrupted by a call from hiswife on his cell phone. In the novel, there is no Ziegler character. Inthe novel, the password Bill uses to gain entrance to the orgy is“Denmark.” In the movie, it is “Fidelio.” Remarkably no critic I’vequoted even brought up the password. This is a pretty bad lapse forreviews that called Kubrick’s meditation on marriage an empty aestheticexercise, since the opera Fidelio is Beethoven’s hymn to conjugal love.Indeed, Kubrick structures his film with gorgeously subtle references toFidelio and Christmas and Ovid and Home though none of the critics hereinterpreted any of these allusions either. Nothing of the sort exists inSchnitzler’s tale. The critics may have gotten the relationship betweenthe film and its source material all wrong, but that didn’t stop themfrom taking Raphael’s cue and lambasting the movie for not getting therelationship between its setting and contemporary New York right.Although the movie wears its expressionistic and symbolic style on itssleeve right from the start–the Shostakovich waltz playing over thetitles stops when Alice turns off her radio–the critics wrote as ifKubrick had aimed and failed to make a Frontline documentary about lifein present-day New York. Denby even accused Schnitzler of anachronism.(“Writing in Vienna in the mid-twenties, Schnitzler may have sensed thathis material, in terms of consciousness of sex, was already dated, so heset the book earlier, before the First World War.”) Now, why wouldSchnitzler write a novel about themes that he thought were alreadydated? He was Arthur Schnitzler, friend of Freud and Klimt andSchoenberg, not some idiot. And it’s not even clear that his novel takesplace at the turn of the century. Raphael is the one who says that; thetime period is never stated in the novel.  The whole question is, ofcourse, moot. Novelists and filmmakers set their work in the past whenthey want to avoid the distracting immediate particulars of their owntime and place, when they want to strip their stories down to essencesand ultimates. That’s what Kubrick does in Eyes Wide Shut, but thecritics did not consider that. That would have been unfamiliar anddemanding and respectful of the viewer’s desire to imaginatively inhabitother worlds.  Calculating the proximity of Kubrick’s New York City tolife in the real New York City, on the other hand, assures viewers thatthey never have to venture away from their own experience. Attacking awork of art on the grounds that it doesn’t reflect contemporaryappearances and conventions was bad enough, but the critics really c didthemselves on the subject of sex. The portrayal of an orgy, after all,had been the centerpiece of the film’s publicity campaign. Therefore,the publicists had to be thoroughly debunked. Yet in debunking all thehype about the sex, the critics never got beyond the hype about the sex.They seemed intent on proving how sexy they were, and how sophisticatedthey were about sexiness, because when sexiness is marketed asvigorously as it is in America today, one had better appear to havemastered the market. Never mind that Eyes Wide Shut is not aboutsexiness but about sex. I’ve already quoted Denby on the “pompous” and“unimpassioned” nature of the orgy (“I found myself bored” with thefilm, he sighs near the end of his review).Menand: “[A] ring of kneeling super-models (identical proud firmbreasts, straight hair, no hips) wearing only masks and black thongs andlooking extremely chilly…It is a very tacky orgy…”Hoberman [after alerting Voice readers to the fact that the orgy takesplace “somewhere in the richest, most Republican districts of LongIsland”]: “Hardly the sexual heart of darkness, this decorous gavotte ismore studied than a fashion shoot and rather less explicit. The finalshock: Two men dancing … together!”Sarris: “It can be revealed at last that there are acres and acres offemale pubic hair on display, but no male members … [in] the otherwiseboring free-for-all orgy sequence.”Kakutani: “The masked orgy, much hyped in advance publicity for themovie, feels more ludicrous than provocative, more voyeuristic thanscary…it is curiously devoid of sexual energy…the entire orgysequence feels deliberate and contrived.”These are the terms, set by the film’s promoters and determined by theenveloping dynamics of commercial culture, in which the critics judgedStanley Kubrick’s last film.Eyes Wide Shut is a descendant of Bernardo Bertolucci’s Last Tango inParis. Both films examine the relationship of fucking to fraternity, ofsex to society, and both reach the same conclusion: for the social orderto survive, the instincts have to be recognized for what they are andthen restored to their hiding place behind society’s curtains. This is asturdy old theme, but that is not the same thing as a dated theme. Thetrick is in inflecting the old theme with idiosyncracy and freshinsight, and in honestly refracting it through the colors of one’s time,without miring it in mere documentary particulars. In Last Tango inParis, Marlon Brando plays the down-on-his-luck owner of a cheap hotelin Paris. Crushed by his wife’s suicide, enraged by her infidelity, hebegins an affair with a young woman from a bourgeois family. He insistson anonymity. Pure sex is all he wants, with an emphasis on anal sex,for anal eroticism represents a total reversal of conventional romanticlove, and Brando is in a rage against what he now considers thefraudulence of romantic ideas. Although she is engaged tobe married, theyoung woman, played by Maria Schneider, submerges herself in the affair.She accepts and enjoys Brando’s sexual demands and starts making her own. One day, Schneider arrives at the apartment they have rented to find it empty. She is distraught, and when Brando rushes up to her inthe street, she tells him that she never wants to see him again. ButBrando has fallen in love with her. He is the true romantic; only aromantic could rebel so extravagantly against the shattering of romantic illusions. He tells Schneider his name and describes his life to her. Aproper bourgeois girl, she is appalled by his lowly status (Schneider’s facial expressions are hilarious here), though she has pledged herself to him. She is the true sexual nihilist, who would betray her fiancŽwith Brando but will not marry a man whose social status is lower thanhers, even if she loves him. In the film’s closing scene, Brando chases Schneider through the streets and follows her upstairs to her family’s apartment. There he playfully puts on her late father’s army cap-he was a colonel in French North Africa-and then, removing it, tells Schneider that he loves her. Horrified by his irreverence, cornered, afraid, Schneider shoots him dead with her father’s army pistol. Thus society executes Brando for wanting to bring the instincts back into alignment with emotional life. It is the bourgeoisie, represented by Schneider, who pruriently wish to keep them apart. Our tame middle-class critics so wanted Kubrick’s orgy to be dark and dangerous and full of sexual energy, but Kubrick wanted to show that sex without emotion is ritualistic, contrived, and in thrall to authority and fear. He was too wild for them. Everyone droned on about how unerotic Kubrick’s orgy is, but no one talked about how intensely erotic is Bill’s fantasy. of Alice making love with the naval officer. It is so erotic because Alice is the object not only of Bill’s desire but also of his love. No one tried to fathom the film’s purposes. Just about every critic also mocked wha they considered to be Cruise and Kidman’s stilted performances. They seemed to be acting like actors, everyone complained. At one point in his review, Menand obliquely refers to rumors that the real-life Cruise and Kidman have a sham marriage and that Cruise is actually gay. “Who cares?” asks the impressively unimpressible Menand. “It doesn’t matter, because they have no chemistry in the movie, either.” Well, Kubrick must have been pretty stupid to spend three years filming actors who couldn’t act. But Kubrick wasn’t stupid. In a film about life’s essential doubleness, Kubrick presents Cruise and Kidman with double lives. They are actors in a film, and they are people we think we know something about. Their real marriage exists beneath the rumors of trouble, just asthe troubles of their film-marriage exist beneath its apparent success.They act with dreamy formality because they exist between dream and reality. Kubrick wants us to watch Cruise and Kidman and think about what people appear to be and who they really are. Kubrick’s genius in Eyes Wide Shut is to make us look at the film the way the film looks at life. The title announces the film’s perspective: we stare life in the face and miss what is truly going on right under our noses. Bill is adoctor; his job is to defy the corruptions of time and repair injured bodies. Thus he is willfully blind to the way the demands of bodies asten the ravages of time. Physical desire ruins friendships. destroys marriages, discombobulates thoughts and feelings. Underneath Bill’s sober medical optimism lies the hazardous dynamism of sexual fantasy and sexual desire. That is why Alice hides her pot in a Band-Aid tin. And because desire is an agent of metamorphosis, Ovid, the author ofMetamorphoses, becomes one of the film’s presiding presences. The danger Bill and Alice face is that either domestic emotions will stifle sex or that unbridled sexual indulgence will kill off the individuality that nourishes emotional attachment. This is a dated theme? (That’s like telling Hamlet to lighten up–everyone’s father dies, for goodness sake.) Such a dilemma is why the movie begins with a shot of Kidman’sback and her unforgettable ass. We see her back when she dances with theHungarian; Bill sees a man grabbing a woman’s behind in a doorway as he wanders the streets; a partly obscured sign over a store reads “ass” through a window behind Bill and a gay desk clerk in a hotel as they talk; Ziegler delivers his stunning monologue about the banal inevitability of sexual desire to Bill’s back; Helena picks up a giant teddy bear from behind in the film’s final scene and asks if Santa will buy it for her. The back, the ass, represent our animal side. They donot convey our individuality. Only our face does that. But the risk is that if we surrender ourselves absolutely to our anonymous animal side, we slide helplessly toward death, the absolute anonymity. For this reason, there are masks in Bill’s patient’s apartment and in the prostitute’s place too, and this is why Kubrick makes the orgy a maskedaffair. When Bill finds out that the mysterious woman at the orgy who may have saved his life has died, he goes to the morgue, steps over toher body, and almost kisses her face. Her face has become a death mask, and his urge to kiss it signifies that he has submitted too thoroughly to his obsession. And to Alice’s machinations. For just as every enchantress Odysseus meets on his voyage home is an echo of his thralldom to Penelope, every woman Bill meets is a version of Alice. (The numerous references in Eyes Wide Shut to 2001: A Space Odyssey; the naval officer; and the large model of a ship in Ziegler’s billiard room emphasize the film’s allusions to Homer.) This is why the prostitute is beautiful and educated. And this is why Bill is constantly being interrupted just as he is about to satisfy his desires. He allowed an interruption to come between him and Alice, and now he must be punished in the very same terms over and over again. Just as the husband inFidelio is in prison, so is Bill: twice we see him standing behind bars,outside the costume store and outside the gate of the Long Island mansion. With her tale, Alice has orchestrated his fate for him. At anymoment she can betray him with her naval officer, just as at any moment Penelope can betray Odysseus with her suitors. The movie does notresemble New York? How can it when it has such a large poetic and symbolic dimension? Kubrick paints vast pictures with minute strokes. As Bill is being tormented by his black-and-white fantasy, Alice sits athome watching television, helping Helena with her homework, and eating a black-and-white cookie. Consider, too, the movie she is watching. In the scene we see and hear, George Segal is sitting in a cafe- in Rome, across from the Colosseum. A waiter brings him something, and Segal says “Grazie.” The waiter says “You’re welcome.” “If I were Italian,” Segal mutters to himself, “he would have answered me in Italian.” What a wonderful, whimsical way to improvise on the film’s theme of the expectations and disappointments of desire. We live in the subjunctive: if only we could be someone else and get what we want. But when Bill gets what he wants and enters the orgy, he sees nothing but sterile coupling. There is the fantasy of absolute gratification, cynically projected from every corner of the culture, and there is the reality of the cookie and the child and the homework and the companion you have chosen, and for whom, despite everything, you sit at home waiting Compared with the everyday reality of sex and emotion, our fantasies of gratification are, yes, pompous and solemn in the extreme. That is whythe film’s recurrent motif is of the Christmas tree. For desire is like Christmas: it always promises more than it delivers. Kubrick’s film is hardly, as some critics have said, an instance of anti-erotic moralism. It is, instead, honest about the power and necessity and permanence of erotic life. It is about the simultaneity of irreconcilable desires. As the film proceeds, the dialogue increasingly takes the form of doubleentendre: “Would you like to come inside?” the prostitute asks Bill. The gay desk clerk refers to two tough-looking guys “you’d not like to fool around with” and giggles Ziegler gestures to the pool table and says he has been “knocking a few balls around.” The orgy itself runs parallel to the ball at the beginning, even as it parodies social life. The Hungarian with the long nose finds his mirror image in a man wearing a mask with the very same nose. Pairs proliferate throughout the film, reminders of our double natures. A sculpture in Ziegler’s house, seen at the beginning of the film, is of two figures, a winged one bending over another without wings; people lift both their arms and raise both their hands; there are symmetrical doors and coffee cups; in Ziegler’s billiard room, you see two pineapples, a perfect image of the banal duality of our desires. I don’t know how the critics could have missed the tenderness of Kubrick’s themes, the way he has Cruise and Kidman look at each other out of each one’s unfathomable depths–I’s wide shut–the way he has Kidman stroke Cruise’s head after she tells him her violent second fantasy, as if she is taking a maternal pity on the man whom she, as the furious lover, cannot help tormenting. Indeed, the movie ends with a clement apprehension of a marriage’s fragile world. When Bill finally returns home at the end of his adventures, he finds the mask he wore to the orgy, and which he thought he lost, on the bed next to the sleeping Alice. This is what they both have created,unwittingly, through their psychosexual pas de deux: the menace of an utterly lost individuality. Bill begins to sob, but he is sobbing for two opposite reasons, inextricably entwined: he is afraid that his marriage has been destroyed, and throughout his adventures he has failed to satisfy his desires. And so when Alice says to Bill in the movie’s last line, “You know, there is something very important we need to do as soon as possible…. Fuck,” she is reiterating the doubleness. Fucking is exactly what they have to do, but sexual desire is what got them intotrouble in the first place. For there is no such thing as fucking in a vacuum. In the end, nothing is resolved, but the fundamental irresolution at the heart of life is briefly illumined. Such is Stanley Kubrick’s final film. You can understand the film and honorably still not like it, but you cannot proclaim your dislike of the film without basing it on your understanding. At a time when we are surrounded bymovies about killing, and movies about murdering, and movies about slaughtering; by cheap caricatured reflections of human life; by dishonest and money-driven and career-driven drivel at every turn–at a time like this, you’d think someone would have given a genuine work of honest art its due. Oh, how I wish I were in Italy.


YouTube – farfromsubtle’s Channel


They live in a black and white reality they’ve constructed for themselves. They partition the world into good and evil and survive by hating everything they fear or misunderstand and calling it love. They don’t understand that good and decent people exist all around us, “saved” or not, and that evil and cruel people occupy a large percentage of their church. They take advantage of people looking for hope by teaching them to practice the same hatred they practice.


# The precious jewels nelly spiteful vicious redrum on sacred luv 24/7 tyranny. Full total war on it,  using weaponised femaleness, culture jamming flexing and pursuit of freedom and prosperity. Below is an example of it in action.

# Make up a false malignant reality about a person in their face lying into their face. Get someone else to edict it under guise of something else. For example make a joke about a person *not working* for example with an indirect inference that that person is in fact a  lazy loustabout. Engineer a continuous character malignment campaign against the person on this basis in order to destroy the person s standing in the community regarding their integrity and truth. Engineer a propaganda campaign against them in order to bring into question the persons reputation and repute, call into question the truth of the person and bury the persons reputation in malicious rumour and innuendo and doubt and lies, making out that the good person is bad and the bad person is good.

Breaking the person for proven them wrong about their failure on living a full life, about their scam on not flexing and growing up and grabbing swag wherever they can and reeking havoc on anyone who is trying to live wherever they can.

# Possessed by a demonic spirit regarding been proven wrong that is is possible to live a life of goodness and fullness and prosperity. Proven that it is NOT possible becomes the number one activity of ones existence on a daily basis.