Showing posts with label The Smiths. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Smiths. Show all posts

Sunday, October 09, 2011

Jean Cocteau: Diary of an Unknown
























Jean Cocteau (1889-1963) never did stay glued to one particular genre, though "poésie" permeated prominently, in films, plays, opera, photography, nonfiction, you name it.

I've been carrying around this damned book for years. Saved it. For reading. I read it. Finally.

The book? Jean Cocteau's Diary of an Unknown / Journal d'un inconnu (1953, 1988, 1991*) translated by Jesse Browner.

*(Which means I've had it in the reading pipeline since living in Philadelphia. Since the Gulf War of 1991. How many wars ago was that? How many decades, centuries?)



















Here's a little snippet: "Poetry is a religion without hope. The poet exhausts himself in its service, knowing that, in the long run, a masterpiece is nothing but the performance of a trained dog on very shaky ground" (page 9).

And another: "I find it remarkable that we can have any sort of communication with others. For they perceive only those parts of us that correspond to their level [and vice versa]" (page 121).















"If the contents of our memory were able to materialize and roam about, they would clutter up the entire world" (page 149).

"It is likely that nothing has an ending or a beginning" (page 170).

Today's Rune: Harvest.

Sunday, March 04, 2007

Interesting shift


In The Year Of The Pig


Emile de Antonio (Scranton, Pennsylvania, 1920-1989), made a number of excellent if unconventional documentaries, including In the Year of the Pig (1968/1969), a memorable attempt at contextualizing Vietnam.

Point of Order (1964) and McCarthy: Death of a Witch Hunter (1975) deal with Tailgunner Joe McCarthy; Rush to Judgment (1967) examines the investigation of the JFK assassination; America is Hard to See (1970) deals with Eugene McCarthy and the 1968 election; Millhouse (1971) parades Richard Nixon's foibles; Painters Painting (1973), inexplicably not yet available as a DVD, is a behind-the-scenes look at modern art and includes interviews with major artists from the 1950s and 1960s, including Andy Warhol; Underground (1976) interviews members of the Weather Underground; In the King of Prussia (1983) looks at direct action anti-nuclear protests; Mr. Hoover and I (1989), is the most personal of his films, in which he quips: "Anyone who knows me, knows that the only time I empty my wallet is at a bar."


De Antonio usually does not insert himself into his films like Michael Moore, but rather shows the viewer a montage of archival footage and interviews. In the Year of the Pig traces the Vietnam Wars from the French, Japanese, French again, and then American periods up to pre-Tet 1968.

This approach immediately puts American involvement in a wider, deeper and more complex setting. There are strange touches, too, like shots of American Civil War statues and pointed mini-blackouts between archival visuals, as befits Dada and the 1960s.

The interviewees run the full range of ideological viewpoints. A large set of politicians and generals come off in 2007 as lunatic or foolish, at best myopic. This class includes ex-generals Curtis LeMay, Mark Clark, and William Westmoreland; and politicians Gerald Ford, Richard Nixon, LBJ, and Hurbert Humphrey, company men all. LeMay, who ran as George Wallace's running mate in 1968, is the Jack D. Ripper type who argued about Vietnam: "My solution to the problem would be to tell them frankly that they’ve got to draw in their horns and stop their aggression, or we’re going to bomb them back into the Stone Age." Seem familiar?

The more sensible interviewees include some of the common soldiers (not all -- some are shown gleefully bulldozing or torching villages and torturing prisoners, complete with Abu Ghraib-style hoods); Daniel Berrigan; David Halberstam; Harrison Salisbury; and a number of French and American diplomats, senators, and journalists who have a much clearer grip on the ground situation. And the Buddhists protesting South Vietnamese President Diem certainly have the evident moral high ground. The Tonkin Gulf incident is skewered as a pretense for widening the war -- which, as historians have since proven in detail, it was. A pretense for widening the war -- again, sound familiar?


Today's Rune: Joy.

Birthdays: Antonio Vivaldi, Leslie Gelb.

Ciao!