Jean-Luc Godard: 'Adieu au Language' / 'Goodbye to Language' (2014)

Jean-Luc Godard's Adieu au Language / Goodbye to Language (2014) comes in 3D and 2D versions, take your pick. 

Marshall McLuhan probably would have liked this, a playful and colorful response to the world and its changing modes of communication. Godard, like McLuhan, is quite aware of the "electronic envelope" surrounding us; that "the medium is the message;" that we live in a "global village" and are actively participating in a "global theatre." Godard wants us to remain aware of our surroundings, and of our modes and methods of communicating. If all else fails, his dog Roxie will lead the way.

Goodbye to Language is not Dada. It's not a cut-up experiment such as might have been done by Brion Gysin, William Seward Burroughs, David Bowie or Mick Jagger. It has some similarities to a David Lynch film, so a touch of Surrealism, and to Woody Allen's philosophically toying with the lenses and filters of reality (such as in Deconstructing Harry, 1997, or Melinda and Melinda, 2004). 

"The present is a strange beast." People reading from a three-dimensional book. 

"This morning is a dream."

What is most important?  "Infinity and Zero." "Sex and Death."

"A line of zeros along the sea."

Writing in a journal with a pen. Do you write letters and send them off via postal service, or is that way not your way? 

"Do something."

Today's Rune: Breakthrough. 

Roberto Rossellini: 'Roma città aperta' / 'Rome, Open City' (1945)

Roberto Rossellini: Roma città aperta /  Rome, Open City (1945).

"All roads lead to Rome, Open City." -- Jean-Luc Godard (1959).

"In 2013, [Pope] Francis spoke to Rome’s La Repubblica newspaper and expressed his deep feelings for [Rome, Open City,] Roberto Rossellini’s realist war drama, which is a ground-zero account of the city under Nazi siege — and which features a Catholic priest as its main character." -- Source: here.

Rome, Open City has touches of Casablanca and any number of "under siege" tales, but its nearness to real events, shot among real war ruins, gives the film a powerful boost. It's raw.

An iconic image of Pina, played by Anna Magnani (1908-1973), in German-occupied Rome. 

The Criterion Collection version with extra features, part of the Roberto Rossellini War Trilogy box set (2017).  

Aldo Fabrizi (1905-1990) as Don Pietro Pellegrini, a goodly priest who says: "It's not hard to die well. The hard thing is to live well."  And, akin to Pope Francis: "I am a Catholic priest. I believe that those who fight for justice and truth walk in the path of God and the paths of God are infinite."

Today's Rune: Partnership.  

The Eyes of Texas: T Bone Burnett at the Lone Star Film Festival (2010)

In remembering that T Bone Burnett had brought up Marshall McLuhan during the 2010 Lone Star Film Festival in November, 2010, I dug up my notes from his talks. Saw him at three different venues on or around November 13, 2010. These scribbles were made during T Bone's interview with Bobbie Wygant. 

T Bone has worked on many projects, ranging from his own albums to the music for Coen Brothers' films (The Big Lebowski, O Brother Where Art Thou?, Inside Llewyn Davis) to Walk the Line and Crazy Heart.

Bobbie Wygant asked T-Bone about his inspirations while living in Fort Worth, Texas.

There was a place called the Capri Theatre and they showed [Luis] Buñuel films and [Jean-Luc] Godard films and [Federico] Fellini films and [Sergei] Eisenstein and [Akiro] Kurosawa . . . these incredible foreign films in Fort Worth, Texas, & it was like a portal into another universe . . . I appreciated it so much. I learned. I would say it was through these two places, the Capri Theatre and Record Town, that I sort of learned everything I've lived my whole life on.

[My 2015 update]: The Capri (which also went by other names) was torn down I think in the 1980s. Nothing has replaced it. Fort Worth needs independent "art house" theatres -- at least one, for God's sake. Fort Worth's three major art museums are wonderful resources, and "Magnolia at the Modern" screens independent and international movies on weekends. However, new art does better in less controlled, contained or restricted environments; that is, via more free-wheeling & Bohemian focal points.

At another venue in 2010, T Bone Burnett spoke of his agreement with Marshall McLuhan, that a new medium envelopes an old medium and lifts elements of the old medium into higher art forms.

Examples: TV becomes more engaging when eclipsed by the internet (The Sopranos, etc.); analog music (vinyl record technology) becomes more absorbing when made obsolescent by digital music. 

Let's be mindful that we are surrounded by an electronic envelope of many layers. 

There's more, but that's a taste of it.

Today's Rune: The Self. 

Alfonso Cuarón: Y tu mamá también (2001)

A road movie with its own twists and turns, Alfonso Cuarón's Y Tu Mamá También / Y tu mamá también (2001) is a small budget independent production that makes a big impression. However, certain "earthy" scenes involving drugs and sex may scare people, even some who are perfectly complacent about seeing mass violence on the screen or in "real life."  Why is that? 

Its narration gives Y tu mamá también considerable weight and depth, even beyond the basic narrative arc -- more like a novel's. The way it's done is this: from time to time, background music and ambient noises are suddenly hushed, melting into silence as narration kicks in. Reminds me of Jean-Luc Godard in that way. We learn a lot of things that happen before and after the events that unfold visually during the film, providing context and a philosophical edge. 

Y tu mamá también, already part of the venerable Criterion Collection, may float around in one's consciousness for quite a while. And man, it's not like Alfonso Cuarón is some obscure figure. For example, maybe you've seen or heard of at least one of these other films he's directed: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004), Children of Men (2006), Gravity (2013). If not, is it possible that you're dead and just haven't realized it yet? 

Today's Rune: Fertility. 

Jem Cohen: Museum Hours

Jem Cohen's Museum Hours (2012/2013), set in Vienna and starring the city and its environs, the Kunsthistorisches [i.e. Art] Museum, Bobby Sommer, Mary Margaret O'Hara and Ela Piplits, delivers a beautiful and gentle meditation on art, cities, people and birds -- among other things.

I want to publicly thank Gina Mandas for the recommendation. Museum Hours is a very impressive work, with elements that remind me of Werner Herzog and Jean-Luc Godard combined with Tom Ford's A Single Man (2009) in its dazzling yet down-to-earth observational qualities. You gotta live, you gotta see things before departure time -- yes!

By some act of synchronicity, a few days before Museum Hours arrived in the mail, I watched a short documentary about Pieter Bruegel the Elder (circa 1525-1569) and his art, so was extra taken by the attention devoted in Jem Cohen's film to the Kunsthistorisches Museum's "Bruegel Room" and the precision of the Ela Piplits' character's musings about Bruegel's art and life. In the parlance of our day: Wow. Will watch again.

Today's Rune: Fertility. 

Deux de la Vague / Two in the Wave (2010)

The individual artist never -- or rarely -- works in a vacuum. Looking deeper behind every artist that can be documented, one discovers connections, people, ideas and milieux that shed light on individual artistic development and achievement. 

Emmanuel Laurent's documentary Deux de la Vague / Two in the Wave (2010) focuses on the rise and fall of the friendship and collaboration between two of the most heralded French New Wave / Nouvelle Vague filmmakers, François Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard. I am enamored of the kinds of connections made in this film.

We see not only the Truffaut-Godard connection and its changes through time, but also catch a real glimpse of the entire history of cinema, which after all has only been around in earnest for about one hundred years -- much like electronically recorded music. With a leap of faith and a little imagination, one can conceive of the entire sweep of it all by "thin slicing" into this microcosm.  

Truffaut (1932-1984) and Godard (b. December 3, 1930 and still making movies at 83) both show an acute awareness of the history and language of cinema, while Godard also maintains a keen interest in -- and probing of -- history (especially everything that merges into the present).  

Between Truffaut and Godard, we see interaction with others of their nature, visionary filmmakers ranging from Fritz Lang and Jean Renoir to Orson Welles and Alfred Hitchcock, from Jean Cocteau, Ingmar Bergman and Nicholas Ray to Eric Rohmer and Claude Chabrol. The evident network of creative connections is quite an eye-opener, and very pleasing to consider. In the words of David Bowie, "you are not alone."

Today's Rune: Separation (Reversed).        

Jean-Luc Godard: Prénom Carmen (1983)

With Prénom Carmen / First Name: Carmen (1983), Jean-Luc Godard strikes again with another memorable, offbeat flick. This one is colorfully shot by master cinematographer Raoul Coutard (with Jean-Bernard Menoud); it's broadly  based on Georges Bizet's four-part opera Carmen (1975), adapted by Anne-Marie Miéville. 

There's almost too much to be said about Prénom Carmen, so I'll keep it short. Screen time seems to develop along at least four converging or interlinking tracks: the uncle, Godard's eccentric doppelgänger (played by Godard);  the ocean and its relentless wave action; a string quartet trying to optimize their interpretation of Ludwig van Beethoven in a grand hotel; and, centrally, Carmen X (Maruschka Detmers) in her various movements. 

Throw in a bank robbery, a poorly planned "terrorist" kidnapping plot and brazen displays of nudity, and  -- presto -- you've got yourself quite a heady mix.

As with most of Godard's films, cherchez la femme -- look for the woman.  Seek and ye shall find. 

Today's Rune: Partnership. 

Jean-Luc Godard: Passion (1982)

In addition to sheer wackiness -- even moments of slapstick -- what jumps out from Jean-Luc Godard's Passion (1982) is the repeated appearance of tableaux vivants, staged recreations of master paintings by, among others, Francisco Goya (1746-1828). These are stunning, especially amid the tumult of other activities swirling around them.  

Passion's cast includes heavy hitters like Isabelle Huppert, Hanna Schygulla and Michel Piccoli. Their characters have noticeable features or tics ranging from stuttering to sucking on what looks like a cross between a flower and a lollipop, to deaf-muteness and harmonica playing, not to mention short hair.  One can see this kind of strangeness in all sorts of movies and series, anywhere from a Sergio Leone Spaghetti Western to David Lynch's Twin Peaks.  

Tableaux vivants convey an ancient tradition. In more recent times, they have been used to circumvent censorship, starting with photographic images. In daguerreotypes in the 19th century, they were often painted to add yet another effect while (seemingly) bringing them back in line with the original paintings. 

Contemporary photographer Cindy Sherman has done a lot with the tableau vivant, carrying its uses even further by "recreating" sometimes fictional images that nonetheless feel as familiar as a moment of Déjà vu.   

Add excellent music and some semblance of traditional plot and what've you got? Another pensive, interesting and somewhat esoteric Godard film. Colorful dreams follow.  

Today's Rune: Protection. 

Jean-Luc Godard: For Ever Mozart (1996)

Even a few minutes of Jean-Luc Godard's For Ever Mozart (1996) would probably scare most people off. Maybe even more so than "actual" archival footage of the Bosnian War (1992-1995) or the current Syrian Civil War, or fighting in Sudan and South Sudan, or in Kenya, or Iraq. 

Art collides with killing. We know what killing is, but what exactly is art? What does it do? What makes it different? What difference does it make? Is it entertainment, or remembrance, or bearing witness, or something both grounded and transcendent to either, or both, the creator and the beholder? You tell me. Godard asks the questions. Sort of. Maybe. (Does he? What about his answers? Are they provisional?) Does "the average person" care about Bosnia, or Syria, or art? And if not, why not? And if so, why?

Then there's linear time. And looping time. I was intrigued on first look during For Ever Mozart -- which for the most part felt maddening, like a special remix of Godard's Les Carabiniers (1963) and Week-end (1967) in part with dashes of the future-made Notre Musique (2004) -- about an explicit statement illuminating the Bosnian War (and other related post-Yugoslavian slaughter of fellow Europeans) as being the Spanish Civil War of the 1930s, a prequel to what followed (World War II). 

As if time is in a reverse loop, with Bosnia first, then Spain, and then WW2. Strange. But true enough, I suppose. 

Maybe we are all The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008) -- even though I haven't seen that particular movie version of time yet (nor earlier nor later nor evermore). I have seen Michel Gondry's (and Charlie Kaufman's) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), which may bring up similar musings on time and memory and desire. Can you dig? Could you then or now or in the future? If not, forget all that is here. Maybe the next post will be more spot on, or spotless, or equally spotty. Who can tell until it's done?  

Today's Rune: Signals.     

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. 

Wong Kar-Wai: Chungking Express (Take II)

Wong Kar-Wai's 重慶森林  / Chungking Express (1994) has, I can see now, the same elements as many of his later films. There's a keen sense of space and time and opportunity, missed, found or brushing lightly. Everything depends on velocity, or state of mind. Two ships pass at night, sending signals. Or, one ship signals and the other doesn't either receive or understand the messaging until time passes. It's got the stuff of Marcel Proust's À la recherche du temps perdu / In Search of Lost Time / Remembrance of Things Past (1913-1927). It's got the subversive pizzaz of Jean-Luc Godard. It reminds of Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction, which also came out in 1994, though without the more grotesque elements (i.e. no "bring out the gimp" here). Turns out that Tarantino helped showcase Chungking Express in a video/DVD release. Everything really is connected when it comes down to it.

A month passes; a year passes. How will people communicate down the road? What are tomorrow's possibilities, after yesterday's are finally understood?

Today's Rune: Separation (Reversed).
    

Wong Kar-Wai: Chungking Express (Take I)

Wong Kar-Wai's 重慶森林 / Chungking Express (1994) tells two obliquely related tales of contemporary Hong Kong. Its style is the quintessence of hip and genuine cool.

Chungking Express stars Brigitte Lynn, Valerie Chow, Takeshi Teneshiro, Faye Wong, Tony Leung Chiu-Wai and the Chungking Mansions.    

Every scene in Chungking Express has colorful and memorable imagery.

Today's Rune: Journey. 
   

Michelangelo Antonioni: Il deserto rosso / Red Desert

Michelangelo Antonioni's first color film -- Il deserto rosso / Red Desert / El desierto rojo / Le désert rouge  (1964), presents a stunning palette, splashing colors and light onto buildings, characters and ecosystems in gyroscopic motion. Wild, man, with strange surreal interludes. Fellini's Giulietta degli spiriti / Juliet of the Spirits (1965) takes a similarly wild and colorful plunge. Both films have other things in common, too. For instance, both have a primary woman protagonist -- Monica Vitti, Antonioni's paramour at the time, as Giuliana in Red Desert, and Giulietta Masina, Fellini's wife, as Giuletta in Juliet of the Spirits. Weird enough. Both characters are a bit "touched" -- by an angel, perhaps, but also by post traumatic stress, too. Both are married and somewhat estranged from their husbands. Both experience the world in otherworldly ways.

In Red Desert, we see a dizzying range of shapes and forms, some natural, some human-made. We see mists and steam and fumes and ships and shacks and puddles and pipes and even a robot ~ it's all in there, and it's all pretty strange when laid out sequence by sequence. The music is a bit "touched," as well. The imagery and sound effects remind me of William Blake, responding to the Industrial Revolution in the early 1800s:

And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Many of these patterns and shapes are beautiful, too, bringing to mind Charles Baudelaire's Les Fleurs du mal / The Flowers of Evil (1857).

In Red Desert, Antonioni seems to be saying, this is the way it is. Get used to it, or not. And really, what's remarkable is how contemporary this film looks fifty years later. The cooling towers, the electrical grids, the waste pools and toxic fields: all of it could be here and now  -- and is.

Today's Rune: Harvest. P.S.: A fond farewell to Roger Ebert.
 

Jill Sprecher: 13 Conversations About One Thing

Jill Sprecher's Thirteen / 13 Conversations About One Thing (2001) dovetails nicely with the work of existentialist writers like Søren Kierkegaard, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Albert Camus and Hanna Arendt. On the one hand, we can do certain things, make certain choices; on the other, we take our chances anytime we wake up and get moving. Besides that, there's an uncertain amount of randomness and entropy at play in the universe.

A snippet of the Roxy Music song "Editions of You" (1973) covers the gist of it:

They say love's a gamble, hard to win, easy lose
And while sun shines you'd better make hay
So if life is your table and fate is the wheel
Then let the chips fall where they may
In modern times the modern way . . .

And the rejoinder:

Love me, leave me
Do what you will
Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

When somebody came a knockin' at her door, Dorothy Parker would occasionally mutter, "What fresh hell can this be?"

In any case, the film makes clear that kindness is rarely a bad thing, certainly preferable to cruelty, violence or indifference. As Tennessee Williams put it, attention must be paid.  

 

Thirteen Conversations About One Thing is not a documentary. It's a dramatic film structured around statements made by characters, unspooled in nonlinear form. The disjointed structure invites a second look, once the basic contours of the storyline are better understood. 

 

The one thing?  That state of being/perceiving called Happiness.

 

Jill and her sister Karen Sprecher have here woven together a meditative, sometimes brooding film, but physical events do occur, significant ones in the lives of the characters played by heavy hitter actors, including Alan Arkin and Clea DuVall (both now in Argo), Amy Irving, Matthew McConaughey and John Turturro. The last named reminds me that Thirteen Conversatons has a similar sort of take on life as the Coen Brothers' A Serious Man (2009).

 

Today's Rune: Joy.   

Julie Delpy: 2 Days in New York

Whereas The Boy Kings of Texas: A Memoir by Domingo Rodrigez (2012) ranges over many years, Julie Delpy's independent film 2 Days in New York (2012) telescopes time via a brief visit from her father, sister and ex-boyfriend to New York City to see Delpy's character Marion, her current boyfriend Mingus (Chris Rock) and their kids by other parents, yet they achieve the same results: insight into family dynamics and social situations via mismatched culture and manners. Both have ribald and raunchy moments. Both are entertaining and revealing.

2 Days in New York is a natural sequel to Delpy's 2 Days in Paris (2007), with cultural-linguistic misunderstandings highlighted in both films. Both of these movies are energetic and fresh in all senses of the word. In 2 Days in New York, Marion has a photography exhibit and plans a special conceptual happening: salling her soul to the highest bidder. Chris Rock's character is an intellectual jazz-dude writer for the Village Voice, a modest and moderate hepcat who is shocked and roiled by the wild behavior of Marion's French visitors.

As Chris Rock puts it in an interview extra on the Magnolia DVD, Julie Delpy's father Albert Delpy (playing Marion's father Jeannot) carries several scenes like a comic Tasmanian Devil. Rock also notes that 2 Days in New York may be as close to a Woody Allen film as he will be able to get. (Hopefully, he will be cast in an actual Woody Allen film, too -- a perfect fit).  

Both 2 Days in New York and 2 Days in Paris are thoughtfully fun indie films tailor-made for open-minded, cosmopolitan adults. I dig 'em both.

Today's Rune: Joy.

Michael Winterbottom: Nine Songs

Michael Winerbottom has made a variety of films, experimenting as he goes. One of my favorites of his remains 24 Hour Party People (2002), both for its wit and recreation of the Manchester music scene beginning with a visit by the Sex Pistols in 1976 and starring Steve Coogan as Tony Wilson; a lot of that one revolves around Joy Division and New Order.

Winterbottom's Nine Songs (2004) is a more stripped-down film -- literally and figuratively -- about a man and a woman who "see" each other in London, spend a lot of time at his flat, and see a lot of live music (quite a bit of it at Brixton Academy). Sex, drugs and rock and roll, more or less. Told from Englishman Matt's (Kieran O'Brien) point of view, the film is intercut with brief scenes from his later working life in Antarctica. His American paramour Lisa (North Carolina-born Margo Stilley) comes and goes as she wishes, while his attachment to her seems to grow. Dialogue is sparse, leaving the audience to connect the dots about their larger lives.

Upon its release, 9 Songs was the most sexually frank British movie ever shown on the big screen (outside of "blue" theatres, I suppose).  In context, you can see it as the culmination of an arc that begins with the controversial reception of Louis Malle's  Les Amants / The Lovers (1958), proceeds through Bernardo Bertolucci's Ultimo tango a Parigi / Last Tango in Paris (1972) and Wayne Wang's The Center of the World (2001) and arrives at 9 Songs.

Today's Rune: Signals. p.s. music by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and others is cool for context.
 

Welcome to Sarajevo

Michael Winterbottom's Welcome to Sarajevo (1997) looks at the Bosnian War (1992-1995) from the point of view of journalists who placed themselves in an up-close position to cover the bloodletting, and from the perspective of "ordinary" Bosniaks caught up in the mayhem. Coupled with Jean-Luc Godard's Notre Musique (2004), I found it to be conciousness-raising and valuable as a testament to recent historical events.

There's no doubt where Winterbottom's film stands on Serbian forces: they are the main aggressors here. Archival footage is interwoven with later filming in an effective way to incorprate some of the atrocities committed by Serbs. We also see a belated international response, with UN peacekeepers making some strides in better protecting civilians. Also, US 1992 Democratic presidential candidate Bill Clinton comes off better than President George H.W. Bush, and for good reason given their differing appraches to the conflict.

As in Syria, Iraq and elsewhere, the Bosnian War is most accurately understood as a painful disaster and human tragedy. In Welcome to Sarajevo, because the war is ongoing, the tram lines are destroyed and there's little thought of rebuilding yet, which is contrasted in the post-war film Notre Musique, when the trams are running again and the Mostar Bridge is nearly restored.

Ensemble acting is solid in Welcome to Sarajevo. Cast includes a couple of American stars (Marisa Tomei and Woody Harrelson) who play it low-key. Also, there's Croatian actor Goran Višnjić, Emira Nusevic, Stephen Dillane, Harriet Fox, Juliet Aubrey, Emily Loyd, Igor Dzambazov and Davor Janjić. Soundtrack is good and includes a well-placed song from the Rolling Stones ("Waiting On a Friend"). 

Today's Rune: Gateway.      

Unfortunately, It Was Paradise

This will be the last post inspired by Jean-Luc Godard's Notre Musique (2004) -- for now.

In panning for more gold, another found nugget is Jean Racine's Phèdre (1677). This connects to contemplation of suicide by a main character in Godard's film. "Suicide is the only truly serious philosophical problem" - derived from a statement by Albert Camus (1913-1960): "Il n'y a qu'un problème philosophique vraiment sérieux: c'est le suicide" -- from Le Mythe de Sisyphe (1942) / The Myth of Sisyphus (1955). And then there's this eerie announcement: “Tonight I will be in heaven.”

Claude Lefort (1924-2010), a social-political theorist like Hannah Arendt, also pops up. Lefort wrote about, among other topics, Niccolò Machiavelli (1469-1527) and Alexis de Tocqueville (1805-1859), the butt of many pot jokes in American high school classes. I'm not sure if this is from Lefort, but around this time in Notre Musique, the following statement is made: "The life of man is but a battle for existence with being vanquished the only certainty . . .”  How will each person conduct that battle in the meantime?

Finally, there's Palestinian poet-writer Mahmoud Darwish (1941-2008), born in Palestine, died in Texas. Given his arc, the title Unfortunately, It Was Paradise: Selected Poems (2003) makes perfect sense. Displaced, exiled, with no hope of return, in Notre Musique, he speaks of being a Poet of Troy, the city overrun near the end of the Trojan War. The thorny Palestinian-Israeli relationship has been at the heart of many a Middle Eastern dilemma for as long as I can remember, with no out in sight. 

  















Mahmoud Darwish discussing poetry and life in Bosnia links to the arrival of American Indians (aka Native Americans) at the Mostar Bridge, pointing to a feeling of similar displacements in North America. It could be that reconstruction of the bridge after the Bosnian War will parallel reconstruction and reconciliation for "First Nations" here in the 21st century.

Today's Rune: Separation (Reversed).