Jan Němec: 'A Report on the Party and the Guests' (1966)

Jan Němec's O slavnosti a hostech  / A Report on the Party and [the] Guests / The Party and the Guests (1966).  Banned in Czechoslovakia! Director exiled! Such facts make this film all the more compelling. In 2018, brutish leaders are in style again, randomness rules, and all bets are off. In short, this film breathes surrealism with a touch of parable concerning social expectations, management, fear and control. 

A small group of friends are enjoying a picnic in the country. They see a wedding party pass by. Then, a group of men led by an apparent psychopath arrive and make them do absurd things, until a higher up appears and next directs them to a lakeside celebration. However, one of the guests prefers not to stay. He escapes, and is then hunted by a mob while some guests remain at table, putting out candles. 

There's an eerie, unsettling feeling watching this film, the kind you might get reading Flannery O'Connor's "A Good Man Is Hard to Find." Jan Klusák as Rudolf (pictured above) is the most effective actor, projecting volatile menace through buffoonery. He reminds me of the Rip Torn character in Sweet Bird of Youth (1962), an adaption of the Tennessee Williams play, as well as "The Misfit."

Today's Rune: The Self. 

Věra Chytilová: 'Sedmikrásky' / 'Daisies' (1966)

Věra Chytilová's Sedmikrásky / Daisies (1966): mix colorful Dada, Surrealism, psychedelia, feminism and anarchic freedom vs. staid authoritarian patriarchy, and voila!  

Two years before they sent the tanks in, the Russian overlords didn't like it. Chytilová was banned as moviemaker in Czechoslovakia until the mid-1970s. 

Marie (Ivana Karbanová) and Marie (Jitka Cerhová) at table. 

Marie (Ivana Karbanová) in an artistic setting: her room. A little bit Dada, a little bit Surrealism?

Floating fonts, flying numbers. If it ain't Dada, it won't Do!

Marie and Marie, ignoring both the doorbell and telephonica.

Green apples of Surrealism. We can play chess now, or checkers.  

Věra Chytilová (1929-2014).
Ivana Karbanová (born 1944).
Jitka Cerhová (born 1947).
Nová Vlna (Czech New Wave, 1960s).

Today's Rune: Joy. 

Tristine Rainer's 'Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin' (2017)

Tristine Rainer, Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin. New York: Arcade Publishing, 2017.

An insightful and entertaining journey, focusing on the period from the early 1960s until Nin's death in 1977. We learn a lot about Rainer's lives -- inner and outer -- and about Anaïs Nin and some of her core relationships. There's also much about the creation of art through living and writing -- including the interconnection of diaries, memoirs, novels and essays. 

Synchronicity: in the last post -- on James Brown and the American South -- James McBride discussed the use of "masks" by people in order to live in the world. Here, too, Rainer and Nin delve into the same concept, with a Jungian flavor.

Nin had spoken a Jungian "riddle" about persona masks: "The mask should be held eighteen inches in front of the face." (page 330)

Who is the inner person, and who is a projection, or is there any difference? (Good question in the Age of Trump).

Tristine Rainer: "I had confused a lot of masks with myself. . . Anaïs certainly had worn masks, too -- dazzling creations, their beauty attracting her followers . . . Maybe she was saying that personas, while seductive and useful, are not the dancer, and like the dancer's fan, they can be discarded, replaced, or retrieved when the music changes." (pages 330-331) 

Rainer quotes Hugo Guiler, speaking to Anaïs near the end of her life: "You were a creature of flight and had to fulfill your nature." (page 345)

Anaïs tells Rainer: "You must complete yourself . . . You must own your own wildness!" (page 213)

Rainer's description of meeting Henry Miller in 1965 is mordant. Anaïs needed his blessing in order to publish her diary volumes with him in it -- he was all the rage in 1965. His novel Tropic of Cancer, finally published in the USA, had been cleared of obscenity charges by the Supreme Court in 1964. 

What Rainer saw in Miller, then seventy-five: "When Henry opened the door to his surprisingly conventional white ranch house [in California], I saw a bald troll holding onto a walker, and my heart sank. Anaïs air-kissed his wrinkled, sagging cheeks." And: "His troll eyes twinkled." (page 241).

My only wish for any new editions of Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin?  An index.

Wallace Fowlie (1908-1998), with whom I became friends near the end of his life, told many gripping stories about Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin. He knew them both and corresponded with them, but especially with Miller. He was a great correspondent and also sent me several letters, which are now part of the Wallace Fowlie Papers, David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Duke University. It gives me a tingle to note that letters from Anaïs Nin to Wallace are in Box 2 and letters to me from Wallace are in Box 5. Here's a link to the guide. 

It's a small world after all -- as Tristine Rainer writes about so well. 

p.s. Anaïs Nin is often thought of as purely French, but her parents were Cuban and she spent much of her life in the USA. 

Today's Rune: Growth. 

Andrei Tarkovsky: Андрей Рублев / 'Andrei Rublev' (1966)

Andrei Tarkovsky's Андрей Рублев / Andrei Rublev (1966) plunges us into Russian devotion and turmoil in the early 1400s. This astonishing mostly black and white film carves out a place for cinema as distinct from other forms of art.  It is highly esoteric, in this way rivaling films by Werner Herzog and Jean-Luc Godard. A list of its closest cousins would include Ingmar Bergman's Det sjunde inseglet / The Seventh Seal (1957) and Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975).  

Steve Rose's "Andrei Rublev: The best arthouse film of all time" (The Guardian, October 20, 2010) covers the film nicely: "For the next three hours, we're down in the muck and chaos of medieval Russia, carried along on the tide of history through gruesome Tartar [Tatar] raids, bizarre pagan rituals, famine, torture and physical hardship. We experience life on every scale, from raindrops falling on a river to armies ransacking a town, often within the same, unbroken shot. . .  At times the screen resembles a vast Brueghel painting come to life, or a medieval tapestry unrolling."

For the full article, here is a link.

The Russian medieval backdrop is wild: historically, the Tatar raids and invasions lasted for something like five centuries. If anyone wants to understand the Russian psyche, think about that! There was no savior to get them out of it, no "7th Cavalry." It was what is was: grim and provisional, the Myth of Sisyphus writ large.

All the while, the Tatars were basically enjoying themselves, not unlike the Vikings: raiding, plundering, regrouping, then raiding again. Tarkovsky is masterful at showing them in action: they ride into a village, then with great relaxation almost, they go about wrecking things, killing some people, carrying off others, joking all the way. It's an absolute nightmare for homebodies. They leave things only partially destroyed. Why? So the villagers can repair the damage and then be raided again by the same or different Tatars. 

Here, the aftermath of a Tatar raid. A church is torn up and burning, while Andrei Rublev is left to pray. If you look carefully, you can see a black cat enter from the right side of the screen. Horses had trampled through earlier. Beautiful icon paintings are going up in smoke. 

In the end, looking back from the 21st century, the Tatar raids were finally put to an end. Some of Andrei Rublev's icon paintings remain, and they are beautiful. Is life on earth worth it? You tell me.  

Today's Rune: Harvest.  

Akira Kurosawa's 赤ひげ / 'Red Beard' (1966)

Akira Kurosawa's 赤ひげ / Red Beard (1966) is a meticulously crafted film, an example of cinema as a masterful art form in its own right that includes elements of fiction, poetry, visual art and architecture but is also distinctive. The aesthetics of black and white film (this was Kurosawa's last before shifting to color) allow one to focus on shadow and form as well as sound. Kurosawa is a master filmmaker and one need not understand Japanese to appreciate his works. Indeed, as in the most moving silent films, many of Kurosawa's shot compositions illuminate the power of facial expressions and, in particular, the look of a person's eyes. Kurosawa's work is very satisfying aesthetically and I'm learning a great deal about technique in reviewing his films.

I have never really understood modern medical doctors, their motivation or disposition, but Red Beard makes me wish we had in the everyday now many more such as these doctors from 200 years ago, working hard at a Japanese medical clinic. 

The title character, Dr. Kyojō Niide (played by the always memorable Toshiro Mifune), frequently strokes his beard which is, though we see him in black and white film only, red. One can readily compare his character with Atticus Finch, as played by Gregory Peck in To Kill a Mockingbird, an American film made in the same decade as Red Beard, though the good doctor is a bit gruffer than the lawyer. Just as Atticus takes up a rifle to shoot a threatening rabid dog, Red Beard has a scene in which he opens up a can of whoop-ass on a threatening group of hooligans in a courtyard outside a brothel.

Red Beard approaches his patients, most of them poor, in a holistic manner, strengthening the body, mind and spirit of each when it's still possible to help. He works patiently and effectively with people afflicted by fevers, alcoholism, mental illness, "spiritual scalding," and physical wounds. His holistic approach could be put to good service in the 21st century.

Blanket airing on left is of the same pattern as the one in the top image

Red Beard is based on Shūgorō Yamamoto's The Tales of Dr. Redbeard (1958), plus an additional thread from Fyodor Dostoevsky's Humiliated and Insulted (1861).

Red Beard has heft as well as breadth. In flashback sequences (which sometimes remind me of surrealistic Luis Buñuel flashbacks), there is a landslide and the aftermath of an earthquake. In one sequence, we can see a character stumbling around in the foreground while at the top of the screen a line of people exit the "stage." Having experienced firsthand the nightmarish devastation of the Pacific War that ended with Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and having earlier lived through a massive earthquake, Kurosawa is deep diving through these scenes.

There's another sequence that begins with a strange chanting, a beckoning to the underworld to spare an imperiled young boy's life, that ends with a visual shot from the perspective of the bottom of a well, a water-reflection of the people shimmering above -- a mind-blowing achievement. 

Today's Rune: Harvest.

Volker Schlöndorff: 'Der junge Törless' / 'Young Törless' (1966)

Volker Schlöndorff's first movie, in stark black and white -- Der junge Törless / Young Törless (1966) -- is set in and around the Prinz Eugen military school in the Austro-Hungarian Empire before the First World War (1914-1918). It's an excellent film in every detail. Perhaps most importantly, it serves as a kind of parable for the rise of fascism and, indeed, provides insight into contemporary phenomena like the increased popularity of the National Front in France and Donald Trump and Ted Cruz in the United States. In this way and more, Young Törless is concerned with how social psychology works as a psychic battleground between mass contagion and individual choice. 

Here we have Törless (seated), the rather twisted Beineberg (smoking) and Bozena, their amorous acquaintance. 

A good deal of the plot of Young Törless involves the scapegoating of Basini, another, weaker student, for sadistic fun. Here, three of the cadets plot further amusement in "the Attic," a secret night meeting place. Think Lord of the Flies.  

Young Törless is grounded in a 1906 novel, Die Verwirrungen des Zöglings Törleß / The Confusions of Young Törless, by Robert Musil (1880-1942), "the Austrian Proust." 

In the arc of the story, the title character sees how people can be drawn into increasingly depraved acts without any apparent brakes on their conduct. In his case, he is able to depart freely, after seeing more than enough. Here, Törless may be a stand-in for exiles and refugees; certainly he is someone who bears witness to human nastiness, coming away with some dirt on his own hands.

Such deep explorations of human psychology in action continue in Volker Schlöndorff's later work, in films such as Der Fangschuß / Coup de Grâce (1976), Die Blechtrommel / The Tin Drum (1979), Un amour de Swann / Swann in Love (1984), The Handmaid's Tale (1990), and others. 

Today's Rune: Partnership. 

John Coltrane -- Offering: Live at Temple University

Pleased to have gotten this two-disc set right off the bat: John Coltrane, Offering: Live at Temple University -- November 11, 1966, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA (Verve, 2014).

Coltrane fans will recognize the Coltrane sound in an instant -- seriously, in less than one second. And from beginning to end, it's one wild ride. 

Disc one is frenetic and demanding and disc two starts that way, too, until "Offering" and "My Favorite Things" -- tracks that calm down long enough for even newcomers to catch what feels like a more patterned and coherent flow of beatific music. 

Overall, Offering makes an otherworldly impression -- really out there at times, like intergalactic -- some strange numinous frequency.   

Apparently Allen Ginsberg was floating around the main campus of Temple University on the same evening as the Coltrane performance. I would imagine that he would have attended if he knew about it -- and maybe he did. More will be revealed. Can you dig?  

Today's Rune: The Mystery Rune. 

Wong Kar-wai: In the Mood for Love (2000)

With Wong Kar-wai's In the Mood for Love / 花樣年華 (2000), one is bestowed a vision of a way of life in 1962-1963 Hong Kong -- sort of like a miniature Hong Kong Mad Men. Luxuriate in excellent attire, slow-moving scenes, morsels of food, smoking and social mores played out in mostly tight spaces. It's a gorgeous film.  And it's a sort of homage in the use of color and camera to a Jean-Luc Godard film of the actual 1962-1963 time frame -- such as Godard's Le Mépris (1963). The marriage of music, camera movement and scene approaches perfection.   

In the Mood for Love focuses on the strange friendship and understated romance of Mr. Chow (Tony Leung) and Mrs. Chan (Maggie Cheung). We hear but never see in full Mrs. Chow or Mr. Chan -- they in turn are too busy "seeing" each other offscreen. We do see, partly for comic relief, co-workers and fellow apartment dwellers ranging from Mrs. Suen (Rebecca Pan) and Mr. Koo (Chan Man-Lei), who is often drunk, to Mr. Ho (Lai Chen), who has a wife and a girlfriend competing for his time away from work.  

Today's Rune: Journey. 

Jean-Pierre Melville: Le deuxième souffle (Take II)

In addition to its meticulous construction of noirish detail, Jean-Pierre Melville's Le deuxième souffle (1966) clearly influences other films and series that likewise deal with grittiness, crime and the tactics of military/police occupation (even in "peacetime"). Fragmentary reflections of Melville's personal experience in the Resistance during World War II and the collective French and Algerian endurance of the Guerre d'Algérie (1954-1962) make their way into many scenes. Maybe that's also why it's sometimes difficult to tell whether "the good" are all that much better than "the bad." When they are, it's only by degree, or so it would seem.


Manouche and Commissaire Blot

Names and relationships. How important are memorable names in making a storyline work for you? Or do names become memorable because of a good storyline?  

Le deuxième souffle has several good names. (It's worth noting here that the movie is based on José Giovanni's 1958 novel of the same name, sometimes also referred to as Un reglement de comptes).

It took me a while to absorb that Gu (Lino Ventura) is Manouche's (Christine Fabréga's) sister, or that her first given name is Simone. Good to know early, because they are nicely contrasted against two gangster brothers, Paul and Jo Ricci. Other key characters include Commissaire Blot (what a name!), the mysterious Orloff -- and Antoine Ripa. I'm familiar with Ripa as a real family name only because, in the mists of some of my French ancestry, the name occasionally appears alongside the Saint-Bonnet folks. It's derived from Latin, meaning riverside, or living by the river (as in "riparian"). Manouche means Gypsy or Bohemian, or something like that. Cool beans!

Today's Rune: The Mystery Rune.

Jean-Pierre Melville: Le deuxième souffle (Take I)

Now digging Le deuxième souffle / Second Wind (1966), yet another meticulously shot black and white flick by Jean-Pierre Melville. Film noir, thriller, anti-heroism -- name it what you want to, but next time you say it, you better run!*

Again, Melville's experiences in the Resistance must have informed his taut feel for the underworld lives of his main characters. Riveting cat-and-mouse games, high stakes, bursts of violence.  The element of surprise. You can fairly often see scenes that telegraph Melville's influence on Quentin Tarantino and a slew of other contemporary filmmakers. Let's not forget detecting his inspiration in the details of various recent crime series, as well. Regardless,  Le deuxième souffle is all crystal cool and clear and groovy in its own right. C'est oh!

Today's Rune: Fertility.  *A phrase stolen from Bob Dylan, repackaged and rolled out in tandem.    

Not Fade Away

Not Fade Away (2012), David Chase's theatrical film debut, has strong elements -- the historical backdrop of the 1960s, both locally (New Jersey) and broadly; James Gandolfini as the father of a nuclear family; three sisters from two families, all interesting; extended family and friends; ditch-digging workers; and period music, with visual footage -- but all in all, it can't surpass any single episode of Chase's The Sopranos on HBO, nor Mad Men on AMC. The problem is point of view. We hear narration from one of the sisters, which is fine, but the main focus is on a dingbat brother who lacks charisma, charm, drive or courage as he becomes part of a fledgling garage band.* Much better results would come from a closer, sustained look at life from the perspective of the James Gandolfini character -- he is put upon, he becomes physically sick, he has epiphanies -- or either of the Dietz sisters (Joy and Grace, played respectively by Dominique McElligott and Bella Heathcote), both Bohemians, one mentally unstable and the other rock steady.

I enjoyed the period feel and details of Not Fade Away, brief scenes of and banter about the Rolling Stones, blues and the times, and quips about Michelangelo Antonioni's Blowup / Blow-Up (1966). About Antonioni's film, Grace Dietz suggests that the rustling of trees serves as musical soundtrack during a key scene, rather than a more heavy-handed signaling of how specifically to respond as film audience. Small victories for Not Fade Away, but better than a total wash.

Today's Rune: Warrior. *Of the band members, only Gene (Jack Huston) shows any spark.   

Le deuxième sexe

Where were you born, when? What kind of "upbringing" did you have? How much "socialization?" How did you learn about the world, how do you learn about it now? All these "factors" go into our worldview, our ideology, our way of perceiving, filtering, interpreting "reality." So it's no surprise that people -- those who publically share how they think about perception and ideology -- tend to emphasize one or two elements and neglect others. "Race." "Gender." "Socio-eocnomic class." "Religion." "Sexual orientation." "Disabled Status." Political theory -- or political "leanings." Dispositions. Preferences. Response to the "laws of the land," especially those contested or challenged. All worth thinking about, as a mix and blend just as much -- more so, as far as I'm concerned -- than as isolated or stand-alone ingredients. The whole is greater than its constituent parts. Strength through diversity, as it were.  

Year of birth, location, situation. Consider that in 1967, Loving vs. Virginia overturned the status quo about "race relations" in the USA: henceforth, "mixed" couples could be together without being criminalized.

Consider that in the previous year, James Brown scored a hit with "It's a Man's Man's Man's World."

Some of the lyrics:

You see man made the cars
To take us over the world
Man made the train
To carry the heavy load
Man made the electric lights
To take us out of the dark . . .
This is a man's world
But it would be nothing, nothing
Not one little thing
Without a woman to care . . .

Consider that "adult women" (21+) could only begin voting throughout the entire United States in 1920. 

Consider that "black people" (then considered anyone with any degree of African ancestry -- did that include those of "white" African ancestry, too?) were "guaranteed" equal protection as citizens in 1868 (a direct result of secession and the American Civil War).

Consider a core component of the XV (15th / Fifteenth) Amendment to the US Constitution (1870):

The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude.  [Note: women therein obviously not conceived of as citizens, nor anyone under 21].

Consider the case of the War of 1812 veteran who purportedly killed Tecumseh in battle -- Colonel, Congressman, Senator and US Vice President Richard Mentor Johnson (1780-1850) and his "common law" wife, Julia Chinn, who happened to be "black" (or "mulatto," as she was sometimes characterized at the time).

1) They were never formally married.
2) They were an "interracial couple."
3) They had at least two daughters (Imogene and Adaline/Adeline).

Consider that upon is death, Johnson was honored with a considerable obelisk in the Frankfurt (Kentucky) Cemetery, but that after her death in 1833, Julia Chinn (without recorded birthdate) received no marker at all (so far as I can determine). Also, she'd been his father's slave. But unlike South Carolina Senator and presidential candidate Strom Thurmond (1902-2003), Johnson was quite open about his "crossing of racial barriers" in his own time and place while he (and she) lived. 

Now, pluck Julia Chinn and Richard Mentor Johnson out of their time and place and drop them into the world of 2013.  What would be different? What might be the same? How much would it matter whether they lived in Paducah or New York City, Palookaville or Phoenix, Arizona?  

Today's Rune: Journey. Pictured above: the latest English language edition of Simone de Beauvoir's The Second Sex, originally published in French in 1949 as Le Deuxième Sexe (Tome I as Les Faits et les Mythes).         

Four Banana, Three Banana, Two Banana, One

Just finished checking out "Electrical Bananas," a chapter in John McMillian's Smoking Typewriters: The Sixties Underground Press and the Rise of Alternative Media in America (Oxford University Press, 2011).

McMillian starts off the chapter with Sara Davidson's observant coverage of New York City in mid-1967: " . . . especially noteworthy for Davidson was the sight of a young hippie in a wizard hat selling bananas on an East Village corner. They were going for ten cents each, with a three-cent deposit on the skins" (page 66).

Reports were circulating at the time, describing the hallucinatory effects of smoking dried banana peels. . .

As in: Gone fishing, gone bananas . . .  

McMillian follows various leads as to the origin of the idea of smoking banana peels, and looks at contributions ranging from a 1963 article through Country Joe & the Fish, and Donovan, with even a footnote about The Velvet Underground and Nico (including Andy Warhol's banana cover), all circa 1966-1967. 

But how did this notion spread from there? The subtitle for "Electrical Bananas" suggests an answer with "The Underground Press and the Great Banana Hoax of 1967."

Beyond that, semiotic bananas must have been part of the Zeitgeist, the spirit-ghost of the high-time. Because there are other examples, even beyond the main scope of McMillian's study, moving from 1967 into 1968 (The Banana Splits TV series, Juanita Banana) right into 1971 (Woody Allen's Bananas) and probably right into the
21st century . . . 

If this theme song for The Banana Splits doesn't sound trippy, I'm not sure what does:

Tra la la, la la la la.

Four banana, three banana, two banana, one.
All bananas playing in the bright blue sun.
Flippin' like a pancake, poppin' like a cork
Fleagle, Bingo, Drooper and Snork. . .

Today's Rune: Signals.     

Mademoiselle

Tony Richardson's Mademoiselle (1966) reminds me in tone and ambience of Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" (1948).  It exudes a war-weary, haunted feeling that surrounds people, people who shakily trust their instincts about certain things but not others -- much to their peril.  Mademoiselle displays human nature in crisis, with the full force of its primal, fickle eeriness underscored. 

What's most interesting about Mademoiselle is Jeanne Moreau in the lead role, a Satanic force wrapped inside "respectability." She is the town saboteur, sowing disaster, exploiting xenophobia and spreading general mayhem.

Adapting from Joan Didion's question (originally about Iago): What makes Mademoiselle evil?

Who knows?

Bad seed, demonic energy, ability to exploit gender role expectations? The possibilities are endless, the results steadfast and creepy.

Marguerite Duras' script was adapted from a Jean Genet tale. Tony Richardson is better known for several other brooding offbeat films, but Mademoiselle, too, fits the bill. 

Today's Rune: Joy.         

Graham Greene's The Comedians, Part III

In The Comedians (the 1966 Graham Greene novel and 1967 Peter Glenville film), every primary and secondary character is placed into a precarious situation. Not a single one can remain complacent and each must do something. Faced with existential choices and much to lose, they do act. It's not always pretty how things turn out, but the important thing to Greene is that real decisions are being made. Within the overall framework of Papa Doc's Haiti, there doesn't seem to be much effective that any of these characters can do, and indeed, it often comes down to either fleeing for safety or fighting against hopeless odds.

 

The South American ambassador (played by Peter Ustinov) and his German-born wife (Elizabeth Taylor's character) have diplomatic immunity up to a point, and can be of limited help -- until ultimately they must depart the country or be imprisoned. Mr. and Mrs. Smith (Paul Ford and Lillian Gish) have come to Haiti to establish a vegetarian center, but their naïveté is quickly blown away by what they see and experience. Major H.O. Jones (Alec Guinnes), a flim-flam man (and self-proclaimed World War Two veteran of Burma), is a disaster from start to finish, but even he makes definite choices along the way. Dr. Magiot (James Earl Jones), Henri Philipot (Georg Stanford Brown) and barman Joseph (Douta Seck), all Haitian born, decide to attempt direct opposition against Papa Doc's Tonton Macoutes, regardless of the extreme danger in so doing. Brown (Richard Burton) is the manager of a quaint hotel bequeathed to him by his mother. His world, along with the other Haitian characters (who are also his compadres to varying degrees), is on the chopping block if he remains in country. To further complicate matters, he's been having a love affair with the South American ambassador's wife. His decisions are made on a more willy nilly basis as push comes to shove.

Greene seems to be asking this not only of his characters but of all of us: What would Jesus do? What would the Buddha do? What would Marx have you do? How about Papa Legba? Or Mary? In your life when confronted with such choices, what will you do?

Today's Rune: Fertility/The Mystery Rune.