Apart from Joel Schumacher's 'Batman and Robin' (1997; iMDB) -- which really is the worst of the 1990s bunch, but still deserves more than the 3.6/10 it's got at the Internet Movie Database for outstanding loyalty to the true, two-dimensional comic-book style -- I've caught up on a couple of near cult classics.
First, there was 'Pulp Fiction' (1994, too famous to add my own drooling contribution to the slop-bucket), then, last night, I found myself possibly glad I haven't yet seen 'eXistenZ' (1999) on a big screen and most relieved I hadn't let the unsuspecting Kid walk off with it as she'd wanted.
"Dégueulasse" is a fine, expressive word for use in impolite company, with no equivalent in English. As employed by the Kid, it combines the notions of nasty and disgusting with the literal image of puking, and is often voiced with hushed admiration.
Both Tarantino's landmark 'Pulp Fiction' and David Cronenberg's 'eXistenZ' are "puke movies" of the very best kind, strong on acting, intelligence and wit. While the former is one of the few films that have made me laugh out loud on my own, the latter actually succeeded in giving my brain the shivers, as well as inducing occasional bouts of sustained nausea.
I enjoyed being challenged to think about games within games and the slippery frontiers between reality and virtual reality while being physically revolted and totally fascinated by what Roger Ebert (Chicago Sun-Times) nicely put as "gooey, indescribable organic things, (while) some of the most memorable scenes involve characters eating things that surgeons handle with gloves on".
Next to these, the pictures I blogged of various bits of my insides during the Condition last year reek of roses.
A dose of "mild mind-fucking", as I first heard the expression from an entertaining American, was just what the doctor ordered before going to bed with more Gurdjieff. I wouldn't immediately have thought to look for an 'eXistenZ' review at 'Spirituality and Health', but why not?
If Marianne persists in wanting to see it, I'll warn her that doing so is likely to have on her the same effect as walking past the excellent fresh fish shop up the road, which puts some of the goriest specimens out front.
I've never seen the Kid do this without first taking a deep breath and holding it until she is well clear, while she sometimes used to avert her gaze too.
She's on the right track, because Ridley Scott reveals on the 'Alien' DVD that some of his most memorable visual effects were relatively simply and cheaply achieved with rubber gloves and stinky platters of fresh seafood.
Returning to game-playing, the Withheld Wildcat wanted a chat on the 'phone this morning about matters such as the "persona", the mask -- and in my view -- masks, plural, we all present to the world. She was delving into interesting topics of self and identity, for the most heart-warming literary purposes.
I've long held the notion of self to be little more than a kind of virtual reality, a convenient construct which enables us to maintain a sense of continuity, but the Wildcat also wanted to know whether I'd heard of Erich Fromm.
I was much surprised to see that this eminent psychologist, who broke both with Freud and his own early religious convictions (eventually coming to see great spiritual stories as rich metaphor and allegory rather than statements of truth and historical fact), doesn't get a sizeable place on his own in most of my encyclopaedias and brain-box books.
If I recall correctly, he notably disagreed with the old greybeard about the universal application of such notions as the Oedipus complex to people, irrespective of their inheritance, background and culture. Instead, Fromm explored individuality in a social context and wrote a great deal about how and why he thought people turn their backs on freedom.
He does, however, get a entry, dear friend -- and a very good one which grew a little more only last month -- at the indispensable Wikipedia. You couldn't find a better place to start online, but you may not want to come out again for an hour or two.
Incidentally, the Wildcat informs me that "dégueulasse" does have an equivalent in the English spoken in her native part of the southern hemisphere: "vomituous".
The SlangSite is one of several virtual dictionaries to agree with her. But I find "Beurk, dégeu!" much more musical to the ear.
6:47:16 PM link 
|
|
postbox