philosophy in film

As bleak dystopias go this one’s right up there with the rest of them. And it’s unique in that it is set in the near future in [of all places] Australia. Imagine you are struggling to stay alive in a dystopian Outback. Grim is where you start out. And then it is more or less every man for himself.

Of course some might argue that in the Outback the future here is pretty much the same as it’s always been.

And, apparently, the calamity happens not as a result of a nuclear exchange or some virulent pathogen spreading across the globe, but from the economic collapse of Western Civilization as we know it. It seems crony capitalism has finally fucked us all for good. Though it’s hard to imagine any of these folks having a clue about that.

It’s the sort of world one imagines the ubermen dream about. Dog eat dog right down to the bone. Except for the parts that aren’t.

And in focusing on just a handful of people intent on subsisting from day to day, it is much more effective in allowing you to imagine what it might be like to actually endure what most of us can barely imagine a “dystopia” to be. A rather intimate reflection on the end of the world.

And then the final scene. We find out why the rover is obsessed with finding his car. I sure didn’t see that coming.

IMDb

The scene which involves Rey (Robert Pattinson) listening to the song “Pretty Girl Rock” by Keri Hilson is a joke by the director to remind the audience of how pretty Pattinson use to look in the Twilight films.

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rover_(2014_film
trailer: youtu.be/ChM2icbWo9w

THE ROVER [2014]
Directed by David Michôd

[b]Eric: I want my car back.
Archie: Yeah, I can see that. You ain’t gettin’ it back.
Eric: I want my car back. If you don’t give it to me now, I’m gonna get back in that truck
and I’m gonna stay on you till you do.
Archie: What makes you think I won’t kill you right here? Huh?
Eric: Nothing makes me think that.

Eric: I’m looking for my car. It’s got three men in it. Did it come through here?
Grandma: What’s your name?
Eric: Have you seen it?
Grandma: What’s your name?
Eric: Have you seen it?
Grandma: Do you want something? Do you want to sleep with a boy? I’ve got a boy here you can sleep with. He’s smooth like the inside of your arm.

Eric [back with a gun]: I’m looking for my car. Have you seen it?
Grandma: Tell me your name. I want to know your name.
Eric: Answer my question.
Grandma: Answer mine.
Eric [cocking the gun]: Answer my question. I’m not gonna say it again.
Grandma: Okay. I’ll call you “my baby.” My baby. There was a car and it had three men in it and it did what most cars do. It came in one direction and left in the other. That’s all I can tell you about it. The only detail I can tell you is the detail that pertains to this place. I can tell you what they drank. I can tell you what they smelled like. I can tell you what they said, if they said anything and if I heard what it was that they said.
Eric: What did they say?
Grandma: They didn’t say anything. They didn’t stop here.

Grandma: You must really love that car, darling. What a thing to get worked up about in this day and age. What is it about the car that you love so much? Can you tell me? What’s your name, sweetheart?
[Eric steps towars her and aims the gun…she brushes it away]
Grandma: Oh, don’t be silly. Now you’re just being rude.

Eric: Where are we going?
Rey: I can’t tell you nothing more than I already told you.
Eric [gripping him by the throat]: I don’t give a shit what you think you’ve already told me. Start fucking talking to me! Do you even know where we are?
Rey: What?
Eric: Where are we?
Rey: Where are we? I don’t know.
Eric: You don’t fucking know? So, how are you gonna get to where you’re going if you don’t even know where the fuck you are?!

Rey: 'Cause I believe in God and I know Henry believes in God. There’s no harm Henry would want to see me come to. I believe in that.
Eric: Look at the harm you’ve come to and where is Henry?
Rey: He’s waiting for me.
Eric: He’s not waiting for you.
Rey: Yes, he is.
Eric: No, he’s not. I’ll tell you what God’s given you. He’s put a bullet in you and he’s abandoned you out here to me. He feels nothing for you. He couldn’t give a fuck if you died tomorrow. God gave you a brother who’s not waiting for you. He gave you a brother who’s not even thinking about you right now. Just 'cause you and him came out of the same woman’s hole… The only thing that means anything right now is that I’m here and he’s not. Your brother left you to die. That’s what people do. You don’t learn to fight, your death’s going to come real soon. [/b]

On the other hand, what does he know? Still, he’s got Rey convinced. And later on that has consequences.

[b]Eric [after hearing a story from Rey’s past]: Why are you telling me this?
Rey: I just remembered it. It interested me. Not everything has to be about something.

Rey: I’m tryin’ to stop thinking about that little girl who died, but I can’t.
Eric: You shouldn’t.
Rey: But I can’t.
Eric: You should never stop thinking about a life you’ve taken. That’s the price you pay for taking it.

Soldier: When are you gonna say something, cunt? It’s over. It’s over for you.
Eric: I know that.
Soldier: That’s good that you know that.
Eric: Do you know it, too?
Soldier: Oh, I know it, champ. I told you it.
Eric: Do you know it’s over for you, too? Whatever you think’s over for me was over a long time ago. I’m asking about you.
Soldier: Are you threatening me?
Eric: No. A threat means there’s still something left to happen.

Eric [to the soldier]: I murdered my wife. I followed her to a man’s house and I watched him put his fingers inside her and I killed 'em both. No one ever came after me. Ten years ago. I never had to explain myself. I never had to lie to anyone. I never had to run and hide. I just buried 'em in a hole and I went home. No one ever came after me. And that hurt me more than getting my heart broken. Knowing it didn’t matter. Knowing you can do something like that and no one comes after you. You do a thing like I did, that should really mean something. But it just doesn’t matter anymore.

Eric: What feeling do you have when you wake up in the morning? When your feet touch the floor? Or before that, when you’re lying there thinking about your feet hitting the floor. What’s that feel like for you? Do you know what I’m talking about?
Soldier: No, mate. I don’t. No, mate. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.

Rey [to Eric after shooting the soldier]: Is that it? Phew! That was easy. Do I shoot him again just to be sure?
Eric: No.

Rey: I’m gonna kill him. I’m going to kill Henry.
Eric: Go to sleep.
Rey: There’s money up there too, we can take it if we want.
Eric: Go to sleep.[/b]

Here’s the thing [or one thing]: Many will look down on folks like this…while at the same time being inexorably drawn to the images they provide as a result of what they do. And what they do is basically to profit off the misery of others.

Nightcrawlers. They go out and slither about in the underbelly of a city like Los Angeles. In the dead of night. And then when human calamaties occur they are there to record them. And then they go to the folks who will pay them for what they do record. The more calamitous the consequences – the more that people suffer – the more they can make. Call it the eyewitless news syndrome. The business of local news.

At times they’re like a pack of vultures descending on a carcass. But in the pack Lou stands out. Not only is there almost nothing that he won’t do [on both sides of the law] but he is able to rationalize what he does do in a manner that is really hard to pin down. He’s a very strange man you might say.

And somehow this all seems to be a clear reflection of the “modern world”. It will simply resonate more with some than for others.
Consider:

Director Dan Gilroy on the impetus for the film: "I think to some degree it’s certainly an indictment of local television news, but I’d like to cast a wider net in the sense that all of us really watch these images. I would hope that maybe a viewer would take it further and maybe go, “Why do I watch these images and how many of these images do I want to put into my own spirit?'”

And I would imagine that in this day and age, where more and more people can go to the internet and connect with this grisly shit, there are all the more outlets for their wares.

IMDb

[b]During the scene where Jake Gyllenhaal talks to himself in the mirror, Gyllenhaal got so into the scene that he punched the mirror. The mirror broke and ended up cutting Gyllenhaal’s hand. He had to go to a hospital and get stitches. He returned to the set right after he got discharged from the hospital.

Jake Gyllenhaal memorized the entire movie like a play.

Jake Gyllenhaal lost 20 pounds for his role. This was Gyllenhaal’s own idea, as he visualized Lou as a hungry coyote. The coyote theme became so strong that it was considered as an alternate title. [/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nightcrawler_(film
trailer: youtu.be/1lEdwqwOttg

NIGHTCRAWLER [2014]
Written and directed by Dan Gilroy

[b]Lou [after watching a crew film a car crash]: Will this be on television?
Bill: Morning news. If it bleeds, it leads.
Lou: Which channel?
Bill: Whoever pays the most.

Nina [after viewing Lou’s graphic video]: That’s the lead. I want to beak it up and do a wrap-around from the scene. I want a walking stand-up, teaser at five, repeat on the half and I want the copy to start with a warning.
Frank: You’re going to show this?
Nina: With a warning.
Frank: It’s excessive.
Nina: We should have packages like this every day.
Frank: People are eating breakfast.
Nina: And they’ll talk about it at work.

Nina: I want you to contact me when you have something.
Lou: Something like this.
Nina: That’s right.
Lou: Bloody.
Nina: Well that’s only part of it. We like crime. But not all crime. Carjacking in Compton, for example. That isn’t news now, is it? We find our viewers are more interested in urban crime creeping into the suburbs. What that means is victims, preferably well-off and white…injured at the hands of the poor or a minority.
Lou: But bloody.
Nina: Well, graphic. The best and clearest way that I can phrase it for you, to capture the spirit of what we air, is think of our news cast as a screaming woman running down the street with her throat cut.
Lou: I understand. [/b]

This exchange couldn’t possibly be more matter of factly.

[b]Lou [to Rick]: Structure fire!!

Lou: You see, Rick, they’ve done studies, and they found that in any system that relies on cooperation, from a school of fish or say even a professional hockey team for example, these experts have identified communication as the number one single key to success.

Lou: TV news. What happened?
Woman: It was a shooting. I told the cops that he was waving a gun last week, but they didn’t fucking care.
Lou: Can you try one more time without swearing?
Woman: I’m not doing it again.
Lou: But this is for TV.
Woman: Yeah? I don’t have a TV.

Nina: That’s your third start this week.
Lou: I’m focusing on framing. A proper framer not only draws the eye into the picture but keeps it there longer, dissolving the barrier between the subject and the outside of the frame.
Nina: Is that blood on your shirt?

Joe [to Lou]: You’re not dropping your shit off, are you? Nobody does that. You need an air card if you want to be in the game. Import the video to your laptop. Cut the video. Upload to your FTP site and notify stations you got something for sale. Boom! Boom! Boom!

Joe [offering to make Lou his partner]: You want to be on the inside of this man because I’m going to be tag-teaming every call.
Lou: You keep talking like it’s something that I may be interested in but I’m not.
Joe: You don’t even understand the offer. If you did you would be fucking sucking my dick!
Lou: I feel like grabbing you by your ears right now and screaming, “I’m not fucking interested!”. Instead, I’m going to drive home and do some accounting.

Lou [to Nina]: I recently learned that most Americans watch local news to stay informed. But I also learned that the average half-hour of Los Angeles television news packs all of its local government coverage including law enforcement, budget, transportation, education and immigration into 22 seconds. Local crime stories, however, not only ususally led the news but filled 14 times the broadcast time, averaging five muniutes and seven seconds.

Nina: Friends don’t pressure friends to fucking sleep with them.
Lou: Actually that’s not true because as you know Nina, a friend is a gift you give yourself.

Rick [after Lou nearly crashes the car]: Seriously?! To get to a van crash on Moorpark? Who cares? What’s the rush? Why aren’t we at the rape at Griffith Park like everybody else?!

Nina [watching Lou’s video]: Home invasion in Granada. He got there ten minutes before the cops. How much of this can we show?
Linda: You mean legally?
Nina: No, morally. Of course, legally.
Linda [looking at the dead bodies]: Have they been identified?
Frank: It just happened, so you have to assume no, and that’s just one of the issues.
Linda: We can’t broadcast their identities without notifying the next of kin.
Nina: We’re not identifying them.
Linda: You are by proxy, by showing their faces.
Nina: We pixelate the faces.

Nina: $3,000.
Lou: I got $3,000 for the food truck stabbings.
Nina: There were more dead.
Lou: Those were poor Mexican people in a roach coach. Two of them were illegal. These are three wealthy white people, shot and killed in their mansion. Including a suburban housewife shotgunned in her bed.

Lou: Now I like you, Nina. And I look forward to our time together. But you have to understand, fifteen thousand isn’t all that I want. From here on, starting now, I want my work to be credited by the anchors and on a burn. The name of my company is Video Production News, a professional news-gathering service. That’s how it should be read and that’s how it should be said. I also want to go to the next rung and meet your team, and the station manager, and the director, and the anchors, and start developing my own personal relationships. I’d like to start meeting them this morning. You’ll take me around, you’ll introduce me as the owner and president of Video Production News, and remind them of some of my many other stories. I’m not done. I also want to stop our discussion over prices. This will save time. So when I say that a particular number is my lowest price, that’s my lowest price and you can be assured that I arrived at whatever that number is very carefully. Now, when I say that I want these things, I mean that I want them and I don’t want to have to ask again. And the last thing that I want, Nina, is for you to do the things that I ask you to do when we’re alone together in your apartment, not like last ime! So, I’ll tell you what. I have the van crash on Moorpark tonight. It was a couple of stringers actually. That could lead by itself on an average night. I’d be willing to throw that in for free. So what do you say, do we have a deal? [/b]

Oh yeah.

[b]Lou: I’m promoting you to executive Vice President of video news.
Rick: What am I now?
Lou: You’re an assistant.
Rick: Does it come with a raise?
Lou: Absolutely.
Rick: How much?
Lou: Pick a number, you pick a number.
Rick: Hundred…hundred…75 dollars a night.
Lou: Agreed.
Rick: Wait what about more?
Lou: Not now, we closed the deal.
Rick: I could have gotten more couldn’t I?
Lou: Absolutely.

Rick: You got a seriously weird-ass way of looking at shit. You know you do. You just don’t fucking understand people.
[later…]
Lou [to Rick]: What if my problem wasn’t that I don’t understand people but that I don’t like them? What if I was the kind of person who was obliged to hurt you for this? I mean physically. I think you’d have to believe afterward, if you could, that agreeing to participate and then backing out at the critical moment was a mistake. Because that’s what I’m telling you, as clearly as I can.

Rick [dying…realizing that Lou set him up to be shot]: You saw him. You saw him!
Lou: I can’t jeopardize my company’s success to retain an untrustworthy employee.
Rick: You’re crazy. You’re crazy.
Lou: You took my bargaining power Rick. You used it against me. You would’ve done it again. Just admit it.
Rick: I don’t know. I don’t know.
Lou: I know. I know.

Detective: You filmed him dying.
Lou: That’s my job, that’s what I do. I’d like to think if you’re seeing me you’re having the worst day of your life. [/b]

You watch this all unfold and you’re thinking: Would legalizing dope make things better or worse?

And yet we all know the part about how the crimes that are committed to manufacture the stuff [or even at times just to use it] would plummet significantly if the stuff was legal. But then without the “war on drugs” the prison industrial complex would all but collapse. At least here in America.

This film is often touted for its realistic portrayal of the dope world. Especially the part where the belly of the dope beast meets the belly of the criminal underworld beast. But it was made nealy 20 years ago. So you can’t but wonder if and how things have changed since then. And not just in Denmark.

But let’s face it: some thugs, gangsters, hoods, scumbags are more interesting than others. Not many like that here though.

And, of course, some are more incompetent than others. And in this world incompetence [or just plain bad luck] can leave you up shits creek without a paddle. Sometimes without even a boat.

Especially if you are just a little fish pissing off one of the sharks. Time to rob Peter to pay Paul.

Let’s make a deal.

IMDb

[b]In a famous TV-interview with Nicolas Winding Refn and Kim Bodnia a reporter asked about research to make the film so realistic, the one thing the Winding Refn and Bodina had asked not to ask them about. The interview became thus very awkward. The interview appears on some DVDs.

After the release of the film, rumors circulated that the actors took real drugs to make the movie more believable. The entire cast and crew have denied these rumors.

In the scene, before Frank leaves Milo’s bar, you can see a picture of Zeljko Raznatovic - Arkan on the wall. Arkan was a Serbian criminal and later a paramilitary leader, notable for organizing and leading a paramilitary force in the Yugoslav Wars. During Arkan’s reign in racketeering business, wall calendars like this one (depicting himself, his wife or Red Star soccer club) were used to show that dues were payed. Zlatko Buric is originally from Croatia, but depicts a Serb in this movie.[/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pusher_(1996_film
trailer: youtu.be/dLEaPB9UBWM

[u]Note: Some explicit dialog[/u]

PUSHER [1996]
Written in part and directed by Nicolas Winding Refn

[b]Frank: What the fuck is this?
Brian: What does it look like?
Frank: It’s a gun. What’s a gun doing here?
[throws the gun to Tonny]
Brian: Can I get it back?
Frank: No, not right now.

Tonny: I once ejaculated a girl in the face, and she wanted me to piss it off.
Frank: Wait a minute, wait a minute. You ejaculated a girl in the face, and she wanted you to piss it off?
Tonny: Yeah.
Frank: Pervert! That’s fucking sick!
Tonny: It is not.
Frank: It’s fucking sick, man. Who was she?
Tonny: Your mother.

Frank: Why are we moving?
Swede: It’s safer this way. You got the stuff?
Frank: You got the money?
Swede: Let me see the stuff.
Frank: The money first.
Swede: Frank, the stuff first.
Frank: The money.
Swede: It’s always the stuff first.[/b]

Nope. First the cops.

[b]Frank: Christ, you guys know nothing.
Cop: We don’t know anything? What was it Tonny said? You do a lot of business with him? Look what I have here. A signed deposition from Tonny, your good buddy.

Tonny: What’s goin’ on? What are you doin’?
[Frank attacks him]
Frank: What did you tell the cops?
Tonny: What are you doin’? What the fuck are you doin’?!
Frank: What did you tell the cops? Fuck you!
[than he takes a baseball bat to him]

Radovan [to Frank]: You gotta be on 'em 24 hours a day, always reminding them what they owe. For instance, there was this Turkish guy once. He fucked up and owed Milo some money. So I went over to his place. I’d been there many times before, asking for the money in a polite way, without any luck. Finally, I took a knife, stabbed it in his kneecap and tore the shit up. Sometimes, I’d like to have another job. Believe me.

Radovan [threatening the junkie]: You got any idea how you’re gonna raise the money?
[the junkie shakes his head]
Radovan [pulls out a shotgun and gives it to the junkie]: No? I got an idea. You go down to the bank and ask for the money.
Frank: He can’t rob a bank!
Radovan: Of course he can. Anyone can rob a bank.
Frank: He can’t even hold that shotgun! Look at him, for Christ sake!
Radovan: He can and he will!
Frank: It’s four o’clock, the banks are closed.
Radovan [ignoring Frank]: He gets the money, problem solved.
Frank: He can’t do it, he’s too scared.
Radovan: Sure he can! Which bank? FRANK? Which bank?
Frank: I don’t care.
Radovan [to the junkie] Which bank do you use?
Junkie: The Amager Bank.
Radovan: Not that one, then. It would be stupid to rob you’re own bank.
Frank: There’s no other bank in this area. The Jyde Bank? Or how about…
Radovan: The Jyde Bank is fine!
Frank [after the junkie starts to threaten Frank and Radovan with the shotgun]: Take it easy!
Junkie: Frank, for fuck sake!
Radovan [he grabs the gun and beats the junkie]: You fucking dickhead! You don’t got he balls for that! Even if you had shot one of us, the other would have blown out your brains! Fucking dickhead! Get up! GET UP!
Junkie: Okay, okay. Just give me a line. I need some coke.
Radovan: You’ll get a line when I have my money.
Frank: Come on, give him a line.
Radovan: When I got my money! Then, he can have a line!
[The junkie puts the shotgun in his mouth and shoots himself]

Frank: What’s wrong?
Vic: Nothing.
Frank: What did that photographer say to you?
Vic: You really want to know?
Frank: Yeah…
Vic: He asked if I’d suck him off for 500. He thought I was a whore.
Frank: Aren’t you?
Vic: I’m not a whore, I’m a champagne girl.
Frank: Is it any different, getting fucked for 3,000 or 300?
Vic: There’s a big difference.

Frank: Listen, I can’t make it today.
Milo: Come now, we can talk…
Frank: I can’t come today, okay?
Milo: If you don’t come tomorrow…with that 50, you won’t be able to walk again. Okay?

Vic: What are you watching?
Frank: Just some stupid movie with Johnny Depp.
Vic: Who’s that?

Radovan: You got a gun, Frank? You don’t usually carry one. What were you gonna do with it? Are we goin’ to war?

Milo: Frankie, you’re fucking me! Come on, tell me a story. If we put aluminum foil on the fuse, we can go on all night. Unless you want to tell me a story.

Milo [on the phone]: Frank, we have a problem.
Frank: We?
Milo: It’s gone too far. Too many people talk about us. Bad for me, bad for you. Frank, my friend, we have to fix it, yeah?
Frank: How do you suggest we fix it?
Milo: How much do you have now?
Frank: About 70.
Milo: Okay, bring it here. Then we’re even, yeah?

Frank [to Vic]: We’re not going. It’s okay now. It’s no problem…What the hell would I do in Spain?
[cut to Milo’s apartment and Radovan laying down a plastic sheet on the floor][/b]

Gone Girl: An exploration into modern relationships. Or, rather, relationships as they seem ever to be headed in our late-capitalist, postmodern world.

In other words, what part is real and what part are they just making up as they go along?

Really. There are any number of historical and cultural contexts in which this sort of thing would be all but inconceivable. Worlds [communities] that revolve around one or another God or one or another set of social mores that cohere folks into a frame of mind that basically revolves around “a place for everyone, and everyone in his or her place”.

But it doesn’t much work that way anymore, does it? And not just with respect to sexuality or love. Nothing much is beyond the grasp of the new nihilism. Especially in a world where, increasingly, the Holy Trinity is now pop culture, mindless consumption and the worship of celebrity. Indeed, is there anything that anyone does nowadays that has not already been configured into one or another reality TV program?

In fact, in this film, once Nick and Amy become “celebrities” [fixtures on the Nancy Grace.com.ilk circuit] reality and TV reality become a virtual blur. At times, reality itself becomes the slipperiest of slopes. And Amy is to, say the least, calculating. So, from Nick’s end, everything must become completely rehearsed. In the end, however, he succumbs to the illusion itself. Or seems to.

And then there is that age old gap between what we think others are thinking and what they think we are thinking. And then how, again, especially in this day and age, we can never really be sure. And then there’s Amy’s diary.

Of course this is not only applicable to husbands and their wives. It’s also applicable to parents and their children. In fact, let’s face it, it’s more or less applicable to everyone.

IMDb

[b]When it comes to casting roles, David Fincher typically goes on the internet to look through pictures of actors to help him find the right type of actor for a role. When casting the role of Nick Dunne, Fincher spotted photos of Ben Affleck and noticed a particular smile Affleck had on dozens of pictures. According to Fincher, it captured a particular emotion in a scene of Nick Dunne smiling that showed the essence of the character. Soon after, Fincher cast Ben Affleck in the role.

Originally Nick was supposed to wear a Yankees cap in one scene. But Affleck, a die-hard Red Sox fan, refused to wear it. Ultimately he and Fincher compromised and in that scene he wears a Mets cap.

In order to figure out his character, Ben Affleck researched and studied several men who were accused and convicted of killing their wives. He paid particular attention to Scott Peterson.

Rosamund Pike claimed that per David Fincher’s request, she and Neil Patrick Harris spent two hours on set, completely alone, rehearsing their sex scene.

Rosamund Pike used a Dora the Explorer doll to practice her sex scene with Neil Patrick Harris. [/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gone_Girl_(film
trailer: youtu.be/Ym3LB0lOJ0o

GONE GIRL [2014]
Directed by David Fincher

[b]Nick [voiceover]: When I think of my wife, I always think of the back of her head. I picture cracking her lovely skull, unspooling her brain, trying to get answers. The primal questions of a marriage: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? What have we done to each other? What will we do?

Amy: So, you write for a men’s magazine. God, does that make you an expert on being a man?
Nick: No.
Amy: It’s what to wear, what to drink. How to bullshit.
Nick: Never with you.
Amy: Ha, ha.
Nick: No, I mean it.[/b]

And, at the time, he did.

[b]Margo: So, is Amy gonna do one of those anniversary treasure hunts?
Nick: You mean the forced march designed to prove what an oblivious and uncaring asshole her husband is?
Margo: Wow.
Nick: Life. I don’t remember the point.

Margo [discussing what kind of wood item Nick is going to give to Amy for their 5th wedding anniversary]: So what are you going to give her?
Nick: I don’t know, there’s nothing good for wood.
Margo: I know what you can do. You go home and fuck her brains out. Then you take your penis and smack her in the face with it, and you say, “There’s some wood, bitch!”

Det. Boney: We’re gonna hold a press conference tomorrow.
Nick: You’re having a press conference?
Det. Boney: We wanna get the word out, right?
Nick: Yeah, it’s just all of a sudden, I feel like I’m on a Law and Order episode.

Amy [in her diary]: Everyone told us and told us and told us…Marriage is hard work. And compromise and more work, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter.”

Margo: Well, did they ask personal stuff about Amy?
Nick: You know, they asked why didn’t she have any friends?
Margo: What did you say?
Nick: I said she was complicated.
Margo: Nick! Everyone knows “complicated” is code for “bitch.”

Det. Boney [holding up an envelope that reads Clue One]: Well, we have our first clue.

Amy [in her diary]: Want to test your marriage for weak spots? Add one recession… Subtract two jobs. It’s surprisingly effective.[/b]

There’s always that part, right?

[b]Nick: Do you really want to be the couple that has a baby to save their marriage?
Amy: “Save”?

Margo [to Nick after finding out about Andie]: Boo hoo, I got laid off. Guess I’ll fuck a teenager.[/b]

Amy is diabolical. How diabolical? The heart and the soul of it:

[b]Amy [voiceover]: I’m so much happier now that I’m dead. Technically missing. Soon to be presumed dead. Gone. And my lazy lying shitting oblivious husband will go to prison for my murder. Nick Dunne took my pride and my dignity and my hope and my money. He took and took from me until I no longer existed. That’s murder. Let the punishment fit the crime. To fake a convincing murder you have to have discipline. You befriend a local idiot. Harvest the details of her hundrum life and cram her with stories about your husband’s violent temper. Secretly create some money troubles: credit cards, perhaps online gambling. With the help of the unwitting, bump up your life insurance. Purchase getaway car. Craigslist. Generic. Cheap. Pay cash. You need to package yourself so that people will truly mourn your loss. And America loves pregnant women. As if it’s so hard to spread your legs. You know what’s hard? Faking a pregnancy. First, drain your toilet. Invite pregnant idiot into your home and ply her with lemonade. Steal pregnant idiot’s urine. Voilà! A pregnany is now part of your legal medical record. Happy Aniversary. Wait for your clueless husband to start his day. Off he goes… and the clock is ticking. Meticulously stage your crime scene with just enough mistakes to raise the specter of doubt. You need to bleed. A lot. A lot, a lot. The head wound kind of bleed. A crime scene kind of bleed. You need to clean; poorly, like he would. Clean and bleed, bleed and clean. And leave a Little something behind: a fire in July? And because you’re you, you don’t stop there. You need a diary. Mínimum three hundred entries on the Nick and Amy story. Start with the fairy-tale early days: those are true, and they’re crucial. You want Nick and Amy to be likable. After that, you invent. The spending, the abuse, the fear, the threat of violence. And Nick thought he was the writer… burn it, just the right amount. Make sure the cops will find it. Finally, honor tradition with a very special treasure hunt. And if I get everything right, the world will hate Nick for killing his beautiful, pregnant wife. And after all the outrage, when I’m ready, I’ll go out on the water with a handful of pills and a pocket full of stones. And when they find my body, they’ll know: Nick Dunne dumped his beloved like garbage, and she floated past all the other abused, unwanted, inconvenient women. Then Nick will die too. Nick and Amy will be gone, but then we never really existed.

Amy [voiceover]: Nick loved a girl I was pretending to be. “Cool girl”. Men always use that, don’t they? As their defining compliment: “She’s a cool girl”. Cool girl is hot. Cool girl is game. Cool girl is fun. Cool girl never gets angry at her man. She only smiles in a chagrined, loving manner. And then presents her mouth for fucking. She likes what he likes, so evidently he’s a vinyl hipster who loves fetish Manga. If he likes girls gone wild, she’s a mall babe who talks for football and endures buffalo wings at Hooters. When I met Nick Dunne I knew he wanted “Cool girl”. And for him, I’ll admit: I was willing to try. I wax-stripped my pussy raw. I drank canned beer watching Adam Sandler movies. I ate cold pizza and remained a size two. I blew him, semi-regularly. I lived in the moment. I was fucking game. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy some of it. Nick teased out in me things I didn’t know existed. A lightness, a humor, an ease. But I made him smarter. Sharper. I inspired him to rise to my level. I forged the man of my dreams. We were happy pretending to be other people. We were the happiest couple we knew. And what’s the point of being together if you’re not the happiest? But Nick got lazy. He became someone I did not agree to marry. He actually expected me to love him unconditionally. Then he dragged me, penniless, to the navel of this great country and found himself a newer, younger, bouncier cool girl. You think I’d let him destroy me and end up happier than ever? No fucking way. He doesn’t get to win. My cute, charming, salt-of-the-earth Missouri guy. He needed to learn. Grown-ups work for things. Grown-ups pay. Grown-ups suffer consequences.

Nick: Punch and Judy puppets.
Margo: Remember, he beats Judy to death and kills that baby.
Nick: So I’m Punch. We already knew that, Amy, what’s your point?
Margo: Does Missouri have the death penalty?

Officer Gilpin: You ever hear the expression the simplest answer is often the correct one?
Det. Boney: Actually, I have never found that to be true.

Tanner: So, what in God’s name is at your father’s house, Nick? And be honest.
Nick: I honestly have no idea.
Tanner [after spotting the yellow police tape at the house]: Whatever they found, I think it’s safe to assume that it’s very bad.[/b]

Oh yeah.

[b]Tanner: This is a ticking time bomb. You’ve gotta throw yourself on it.
Nick: People are gonna hate me.
Tanner: And then, they will forgive you. A guy admitting that he’s a gigantic asshole on television? People empathize with that. Sharon’s specials, they get 10 million viewers. She is a crusader. If she takes you on as a cause…
Margo: She’s going to ask real questions.
Tanner: I will drill you as if you were doing a deposition. What to say, what not to say.
Margo: A trained monkey?
Tanner: A trained monkey who doesn’t get a lethal injection.

Tanner: Nick, this case is about what people think of you. They need to like you. Now, you do this and you will reach millions of those people.
Nick: Maybe I only need to reach one.

Nick [after Margo checks the internet following his appearance on Sharon Shieber]: What does it say?
Margo: Oh, my God. You fucking killed it! They’re going crazy for you.
Nick: They disliked me, they liked me, they hated me. And now they love me.

Desi: You’re not bored?
Amy: Desi, how could I be bored? You can discuss 18th century synphonies, 19th century impressionists, quote proust in French. Nick’s idea of culture was a reality TV marathon with one hand down his boxers.

Nick [aloud to himself]: Come home, Amy. I dare you.

Nick: I’m leaving.
Amy: You really think that’s smart? Wounded, raped wife battles her way back to her husband…and he deserts her? They’ll destroy you.

Nick: Was there ever a baby?
Amy: There can be.

Nick to Det. Boney]: She told me she killed Desi. Not self-defense. Murder.
Margo: Can’t we get a wire?
Nick: That’s not gonna work. She had me strip naked, and stand in the shower.
Tanner: I swear, you two are the most fucked-up people I’ve ever known. And I specialize in fucked-up. You and Amy under the same roof? You should pitch that as reality television.

Nick: I can’t believe you’re just leaving now.
Tanner: You are not at risk anymore.
Nick: I’m the definition of “at risk.”
Tanner: You got a book deal, a lifetime movie, you franchised The Bar. You may wanna thank her.

Nick [after Amy makes him aware of the next “part”]: You fucking cunt!
Amy: I’m the cunt you married!


Amy [to Nick]: The only time you liked yourself was when you were trying to be someone this cunt might like. I’m not a quitter, I’m that cunt. I killed for you; who else can say that? You think you’d be happy with a nice Midwestern girl? No way, baby! I’m it.

Nick: Fuck. You’re delusional. I mean, you’re insane, why would you even want this? Yes, I loved you and then all we did was resent each other, try to control each other. We caused each other pain.
Amy: That’s marriage.

Nick [looking down at Amy but more in the way of a voiceover]: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? What have we done to each other? What will we do? [/b]

This one only really works because almost everyone is in agreement: World War II was one of the “good wars”. I mean, if you have to go to war, let it be against a particularly despicable monster like Adolph Hitler. It just doesn’t quite work when imagining the enigma machine in the hands of, say, Ho Chi Minh or Saddam Hussein.

Or is that just me.

Alan Turing. He was the man who deconstructed the Enigma Machine. And in so doing made a remarkable contribution to the deconstruction of Hitler’s Nazi regime itself.

On the other hand, Alan Turing was also a homosexual. Back then. And back then is not now. Back then [war hero or not] he was arrested and charged with the crime of being a homosexual. He was sentenced to chemical castration. A year into his “treatment” he committed suicide.

He was also a genius. And he was also…different. And so he was bullied for it.

On the other hand, he wasn’t a woman. And “back then” that was yet another demographic in which blind prejudice was rife.

And then there is the part about thinking machines. All of the philosophical issues for example. And sooner or later when we go down that path the question of “determinism” will inevitably pop up. Though not so much here.

Here the focus was often more on the nature of intelligence itself. “Artificial” intelligence? On the other hand, from the point of view of nature, what does that really mean?

Anyway, Alan Turing was a man who made a difference. A big difference. It has been estimated that breaking the Enigma code attenuated the war by at least two years. And saved an estimated 14,000,000 lives. Not many folks can lay claim to an achievement like that.

IMDb

[b]Winston Churchill stated that Turing made the single greatest contribution in Britain’s war effort.

Benedict Cumberbatch confessed that in one of the final scenes of the film he couldn’t stop crying and had a breakdown. It was, as he said, “being an actor or a person that had grown incredibly fond of the character and thinking what he had suffered and how that had affected him.”

On 27 November 2014, ahead of the film’s US release, The New York Times reprinted the original 1942 crossword puzzle from The Daily Telegraph used in recruiting code breakers at Bletchley Park during World War II. Entrants who solve the puzzle can mail in their results for a chance to win a trip for two to London and a tour of the famous Bletchley Park facilities.

In an interview with USA Today, Benedict Cumberbatch said of Turing’s Royal Pardon, “The only person who should be pardoning anybody is him (Turing). Hopefully, the film will bring to the fore what an extraordinary human being he was and how appalling (his treatment by the government was). It’s a really shameful, disgraceful part of our history.”

At the interrogatory scene, Turing describes the famous “Turing Test”.

In the original illustrative example, a human judge engages in natural language conversations with a human and a machine designed to generate performance indistinguishable from that of a human being. The conversation is limited to a text-only channel such as a computer keyboard and screen so that the result is not dependent on the machine’s ability to render words into audio. All participants are separated from one another. If the judge cannot reliably tell the machine from the human, the machine is said to have passed the test. The test does not check the ability to give the correct answer to questions; it checks how closely each answer resembles the answer a human would give.

The test was introduced by Alan Turing in his 1950 paper “Computing Machinery and Intelligence,” which he asks “Are there imaginable digital computers which would do well in the imitation game?” This question, Turing believed, is one that can actually be answered.

More than 50 years later, no computer could pass the test.

“If any young person’s ever felt like they aren’t quite sure who they are, or aren’t allowed to express themselves the way they’d like to express themselves, if they’ve ever felt bullied by what they feel is the normal majority or any kind of thing that makes them feel an outsider, then this is definitely a film for them because it’s about a hero for them,” Cumberbatch stated at the European Premiere of the film at the London Film Festival, October 2014 [/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Imitation_Game
trailer: youtu.be/S5CjKEFb-sM

THE IMITATION GAME [2014]
Directed by Morten Tyldum

[b]Alan [voiceover]: Are you paying attention? Good. If you are not listening carefully, you will miss things. Important things. I will not pause, I will not repeat myself, and you will not interrupt me. You think that because you’re sitting where you are, and I am sitting where I am, that you are in control of what is about to happen. You’re mistaken. I am in control, because I know things that you do not know.
[pause]
Alan: What I will need from you now is a commitment. You will listen closely, and you will not judge me until I am finished. If you cannot commit to this, then please leave the room. But if you choose to stay, remember you chose to be here. What happens from this moment forward is not my responsibility. It’s yours. Pay attention.

Commander Denniston: Why do you wish to work for His Majesty’s government?
Alan: Oh, I don’t, really.
Commander Denniston: Are you a bleeding pacifist?
Alan: I’m… agnostic about violence.
Commander Denniston: Well, you do realize that 600 miles away from London here’s this nasty little chap called Hitler who wants to engulf Europe in tyranny?
Alan: Politics isn’t really my area of expertise.

Alan: I like solving problems, Commander. And Enigma is the most difficult problem in the world.
Commander Denniston: Enigma isn’t difficult, it’s impossible. The Americans, the Russians, the French, the Germans, everyone thinks Enigma is unbreakable.
Alan: Good. Let me try and we’ll know for sure, won’t we?

Commander Denniston: To decode a message, you need to know the machine’s settings. Now, the Germans switch settings every day promptly at midnight. We usually intercept our first message around 6:00 a.m., which gives you exactlyto crack the code before it changes, and you start again.
Alan: Five rotors. Ten plugboard cables. That’s…one million…
Peter: A thousand million…No, no, it’s, uh, I’ve got it. It’s a million, million. It’s in the millions, obviously.
Alan: It’s over 150 million million million possible settings.
Commander Denniston: Very good.
Hugh: If you want to be exact about it. 1-5-9 with 18 zeroes behind it. Possibilities. Every single day.

Alan [voiceover]: The game was quite a simple one. Every single German message, every surprise attack, every bombing run, every imminent U-boat assault…They were all floating through the air. Radio signals that… well, any schoolboy with an AM kit could intercept. The trick was that they were encrypted. There were 159 million million million possible Enigma settings. All we had to do was try each one. But if we had ten men checking one setting a minute for 24 ho urs every day and seven days every week, how many days do you think it would take to, uh, to check each of the settings? Well, it’s not days, it’s years. It’s 20 million years. To stop a coming attack, we would have to check 20 million years worth of settings in 20 minutes.

Alan [to Commander Denniston]: Enigma is an extremely well-designed machine. Our problem is that we’re only using men to try to beat it. No, what if only a machine can defeat another machine?

Stewart: My warmest welcome to His Majesty’s service. If you speak a word of what I’m about to show you, you will be executed for high treason. You will lie to your friends, your family and everyone you meet about what it is you really do.
Joan: And what is it that we’re really doing?
Alan: We’re going to break an unbreakable Nazi code and win the war.
Joan: Oh.

Alan [as a boy]: What’s that you’re reading?
Christopher: It’s about cryptography.
Alan: Like secret messages?
Christopher: Not secret. That’s the brilliant part. Messages that anyone can see, but no one knows what they mean unless you have the key.
Alan: How’s that different from talking?
Christopher: Talking?
Alan: When people talk to each other, they never say what they mean. They say something else, and you’re expected to just know what they mean. Only I never do. So, how’s that different?
Christopher: Alan, I have a funny feeling you’re going to be very good at this.

Hugh [to Alan]: You know to pull off this irascible genius routine, one has to actually be a genius.

Alan [to Joan]: Sometimes it is the very people who no one imagines anything of who do the things that no one can imagine.

Alan [voiceover]: Some people thought we were at war with the Germans-- incorrect. We were at war with the clock. Britain was literally starving to death. The Americans sent over 100,000 tons of food every week and every week the Germans would send
our desperately needed bread to the bottom of the ocean. Our daily failure was announced at the chimes of midnight. And the sound would haunt our unwelcome dreams.

Joan: So you-you theorized a machine that could solve any problem. It didn’t just do one thing, it did everything. It wasn’t just programmable, it was reprogrammable. Is that your idea behind Christopher?
Alan: Well, human brains can compute large sums very quickly but I want my machine to be smarter. To make a calculation and then, uh, to determine what to do next. Like a person does. Think of it. An electrical brain. A digital computer.

Hugh: If you run the wires across the plugboard matrix diagonally, you’ll eliminate rotor positions 500 times faster.
Alan: This is actually not an entirely terrible idea.
Joan: I think that was Alan for “thank you.”

Detective: That’s what Turing’s hiding. He’s a poof, not a spy.

Alan: What if… what if I don’t fancy being with Joan in that way?
John: Because you’re a homosexual? I suspected.
Alan: Sh- should I tell her that I’ve had affairs with men?
John: You know, in my admittedly limited experience, women tend to be a bit touchy about accidentally marrying homosexuals. Perhaps not spreading this information about might be in your best interest.
Alan: I care for her, I truly do, but… I-I just don’t know if I can pretend…
John: You can’t tell anyone, Alan. It’s illegal. And Denniston is looking for any excuse he can to put you away.
Alan: I know.
John: This has to stay a secret.

Detective Nock: I’m here to help you.
Alan: Oh, clearly!
Detective Nock: Can machines think?
Alan: Oh, so you’ve read some of my published works?
Detective Nock: What makes you say that?
Alan: Oh, because I’m sitting in a police station, accused of entreating a young man to touch my penis, and you’ve just asked me if machines can think.
Detective Nock: Well, can they? Could machines ever think as human beings do?
Alan: Most people say not.
Detective Nock: You’re not most people.

Alan [to Detective Nock]: Of course machines can’t think as people do. A machine is different from a person. Hence, they think differently. The interesting question is, just because something, uh, thinks differently from you, does that mean it’s not thinking? Well, we allow for humans to have such divergences from one another. You like strawberries, I hate ice-skating, you cry at sad films, I am allergic to pollen. What is the point of different tastes, different preferences, if not, to say that our brains work differently, that we think differently? And if we can say that about one another, then why can’t we say the same thing for brains built of copper and wire, steel?
Detective Nock: And that’s this big paper you wrote? What’s it called?
Alan: “The Imitation Game.”
Detective Nock: Right, that’s… that’s what it’s about?
Alan: Would you like to play?
Detective Nock: Play?
Alan: It’s a game. A test of sorts. For determining whether something is a… a machine or a human being.
Detective Nock: How do I play?
Alan: Well, there’s a judge and a subject, and… the judge asks questions and, depending on the subject’s answers, determines who he is talking with… what he is talking with, and, um, all you have to do is ask me a question.
Detective Nock: What did you do during the war?
Alan: I worked in a radio factory.
Detective Nock: What did you really do during the war?
Alan (laughing softly): Are you paying attention?

Alan [having a eureka! moment]: Helen! Wh-Why do you think your German counterpart has a girlfriend?
Helen: It’s just a stupid joke; don’t worry.
Alan: No, no, no, no. Tell me.
Helen: Well, each of his messages begins with the same five letters: C-I-L-L-Y. So I suspect that Cilly must be the name of his amore.
Alan [morevto himself]: But that’s impossible. The Germans are instructed to use five random letters at the start of every message.
Helen: Well, this bloke doesn’t.
Hugh: Love will make a man do strange things, I suppose.
Alan: In this case, love just lost Germany the whole bloody war.

Alan: Heil Hitler. Turns out that’s the only German you need to know to, uh, break Enigma.

Hugh: My God, you did it. You just defeated Nazism with a crossword puzzle.
Peter: There are five people in the world who know the position of everyship in the Atlantic. And they’re all in this room.[/b]

Then this…

[b]Alan: Sometimes we can’t do what feels good. We have to do what is logical.
Hugh: What’s logical?
Alan: The hardest time to lie to somebody is when they’re expecting to be lied to.
Joan: Oh, God.
Hugh: What?
Alan: If someone’s waiting for a lie, you can’t just, uh, give them one.
Joan: Damn it, Alan’s right.
Hugh: What?
Alan: What wouldthe Germans think if we destroy their U-boats?
Peter: Nothing. They’ll be dead.
Alan: No. So our convoy suddenly veers off course…a squadron of our air bombers miraculously descends on the coordinates of the U-boats…what will the Germans think?
Joan: The Germans will know that we have broken Enigma. They’ll stop all radio communications by midday, and they’ll have changed the design of Enigma by the weekend.
Alan: Yes. Two years’ work. Everything that we’ve done here will all be for nothing.
Frank: There are 500 civilians in that convoy. Women…children. We’re about to let them die.
Alan: Our job is not to save one passenger convoy, it is to win the war.

Stewart: Why are you telling me this ?
Alan: We need your help, to keep this a secret from Admiralty, Army, RAF. Ah… as no one can know, that we’ve broken enigma, not even Commander Dennison.
Stewart: Who is in the process of having you fired?
Joan: You can take care of that.
Alan: While we develop a system to help you determine how much intelligence to act on. Which ahh attacks to stop, which to let through. Statistical analysis, the minimum number of actions it will take, for us to win the war – but the maximum number we can take, before the Germans get suspicious.
Stewart: And you’re going to trust of this all to statistics? To maths?
Alan: Correct.
Joan: And then MI6 can come up with the lies we will tell everyone else.
Alan: You’ll need a believable alternative source for all the pieces of information that you use.
Joan: A false story, so that we can explain how we got our information, that has nothing to do with Enigma, and then you can leak those stories to the Germans.
Alan: And then to our own military.
Stewart: Maintain a conspiracy of lies at the highest levels of government? Sounds right up my alley.

Alan [voiceover]: They code-named it “Ultra.” It became the largest store of military intelligence in the history of the world. It was like having a tap on Himmler’s intercom.

Alan [after finding out Cairncross is a Soviet spy]: I-I have to tell Denniston.
Cairncross: No, you don’t. Because if you tell him my secret I’ll tell him yours. Do you know what they do to homosexuals? You’ll never be able to work again, never be able to teach. Your precious machine…I doubt you’ll ever see it again.

Alan [voiceover]: Advice about keeping secrets: it’s a lot easier if you don’t know them in the first place…Were they steaming my letters, tapping my telephone? Trailing my nervous walks? You know, I…I never did find out.

Joan: Alan, what’s happened?
Alan [after a pause]: We can’t be engaged anymore. Your parents need to take you back. Find you a husband elsewhere.
Joan: What’s wrong with you?
Alan: I have something to tell you. I’m… I’m a homosexual.
Joan: Alright.
Alan: No, no, men, Joan. Not women.
Joan: So what?
Alan: I just told you…
Joan: So what? I had my suspicions. I always did. But we’re not like other people. We love each other in our own way, and we can have the life together that we want. You won’t be the perfect husband? I can promise you I harboured no intention of being the perfect wife. I’ll not be fixing your lamb all day, while you come home from the office, will I? I’ll work. You’ll work. And we’ll have each other’s company. We’ll have each other’s minds. Sounds like a better marriage than most. Because I care for you. And you care for me. And we understand one another more than anyone else ever has.
Alan: I don’t.
Joan: What?
Alan: Care for you. I never did. I just needed you to break Enigma. I’ve done that now, so you can go.
Joan [slaps him]:I am not going anywhere. I have spent entirely too much of my life worried about what you think of me, or what my parents think of me, or what the boys in Hut 8 or the girls in Hut 3 think, and you know I am done. This work is the most important thing I will ever do. And no one will stop me. Least of all you.
[pause]
Joan: You know what? They were right. Peter. Hugh. John. You really are a monster.

Alan [voiceover]: The war dragged on for two more solitary years…and every day we performed our blood-soaked calculus. Every day we decided who lived and who died. Every day we… helped the Allies to victories, and nobody knew. Stalingrad. The Ardenne. The invasion of Normandy. All victories that would not have been possible without the intelligence that we supplied. And people… talk about the war as this epic battle between civilizations… freedom versus tyranny, democracy versus Nazism, armies of millions bleeding into the ground, fleets of ships weighing down the oceans, planes dropping bombs from the sky until they obliterated the sun itself. The war wasn’t like that for us. For us, it was just half a dozen crossword enthusiasts in a tiny village in the South of England.

Alan [after telling the story of Enigma]: Now, detective, you get to judge. So tell me, what am I? Am I a machine, am I a person, am I a war hero, or am I a criminal?
Detective Nock: I can’t judge you.
Alan: Well then, you’re no help to me at all.

Joan: I would have come. I would have testified.
Alan: And what would you have said, that I, uh…I wasn’t a homosexual.
Joan: Alan… this is serious. They could sendyou to jail.
[she notices hi8s shaking hands]
Joan: Your hands. You’re twitching.
Alan: No-no, I’m not. It’s the medication.
Joan: The medication?
Alan: Uh, well, the judge gave me, um, a choice…uh, ei-either two years in prison or… ho-hormonal therapy.
Joan: Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
Alan: Yes, yes, that’s right. Chemical castration.

Joan [to Alan]: Do you know, this morning I was on a train that went through a city that wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for you. I bought a ticket from a man who would likely be dead if it wasn’t for you. I read up, on my work, a whole field of scientific inquiry that only exists because of you. Now, if you wish you could have been normal…I can promise you I do not. The world is an infinitely better place precisely because you weren’t.
Alan: Do you do you really think that?
Joan: I think that sometimes it is the people who no one imagines anything of who do the things that no one can imagine.

Title card: After a year of government mandated hormonal therapy, Alan Turing committed suicide on June 7th, 1954. He was 41 years old. Between 1885 and 1967, approximately 49,000 homosexual men were convicted of gross indecency under British law.

Title card: Turing’s work inspired generations of research into what scientists called “Turing machines”. Today we call them computers.[/b]

Atlas Shrugged: The movie. Released on April 15th. Tax day. How’s that for clever symbolism? Or how about making Eddie Willers the only black hero? He’s one of them…but not really. He is supposed to reflect the working class equivalent of the objectivist. His brain allows him to behave morally, but he does not have enough smarts to actually be one of the true Heroes here.

The true Objectivist hero is always the man of ideas. Why? Because Objectivism revolves around the idea that only when the individual has come to grasp the one true nature of morality “metaphysically” can he go on to run railroads and invent new energy sources or own and operate steel mills and the like. Even if not to this date “in reality”.

Everything apparently starts with concocting a rational philosophy of life and than living one’s life wholly in accordance with it.

Of course, that quickly exposes the glaring gap between the rhetoric of the Objecitivist hero and the reality of the world that we now live in: the fact that [so far] Atlas has not shrugged. In fact, he has never even come close.

The fact that it took the Objectivists literally decades to even make this movie speaks volumes in and of itself. On the other hand, it garnered only an 11% fresh rating at Rotten Tomatoes. So, from their perspective, they must be on the right track. Objectivists of this ilk never feel they are on the right track unless “the masses” hold them in contempt.

But, then, as cartoon characters in a world where the heroic can only be sustained “in their head”, I’m sure they are thoroughly convinced that, with the movie finally out there, it is only a matter of time now before the John Galts among us gets the ball rolling. And not just in New Hampshire either.

Sad to say, in the film the characters are even more cartoonish than in the novel. I honestly did not imagine that was even possible. What is particularly ludicrous is the manner in which the crony capitalists are portrayed. The film is set in the year 2016 and you would think the folks running the corporations in America were practically socialist:

James Taggert: How are the Mexicans going to develop the area with a single passenger train a day?..That Mexican line was helping those destitute people to get back in the game…You can’t just take everything away from people who need our help

You also might be wondering how they managed to make the railroads the most important form of transportation in the year 2016. Well, they made the price of gasoline $37.50 a gallon.

No doubt, even Ayn Rand herself would have been appalled at this effort.

Still, who can deny that Rand was always able to put a spin on capitalism that its detractors are never really able to make go away.

This film was always going to be inferior to The Fountainhead. And that’s because the more you try to integrate the Objectivist plot into the world at large the more preposterous it becomes. With The Fountainhead you could at least imagine some success when the story revolved solely around one individual trying to live out his own personal philsophy. But once the the fate of the whole world is at stake, it all collapses into sheer absurdity. How else to explain the manner in which the gap between the novel and the world just keeps getting wider and wider and wider. But then, perhaps, no wider than the one between the Wealth of Nations and the Communist Manifesto.

IMDb

[b]According to Variety, The Godfather (1972) producer Albert S. Ruddy spent years trying to bring the novel to the big screen, attracting the interest of Clint Eastwood, Robert Redford and Faye Dunaway along the way.

In the late 1970s, NBC had plans to bring the novel to television as one of the multi-part mini-series popular at the time. Ayn Rand wanted Farrah Fawcett to star, but the project never materialized.

Angelina Jolie, Charlize Theron and Maggie Gyllenhaal were among the actresses considered to play Dagny Taggart, with Brad Pitt being considered to play John Galt. [/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlas_Shrugged:_Part_I
trailer: youtu.be/6W07bFa4TzM

ATLAS SHRUGGED PART 1 [2011]
Directed by Paul Johansson

Galt: Midas Mulligan.
Midas Mulligan: Who’s asking?
Galt: Someone who knows what it’s like to work for himself and not let others feed off the profits of his energy.
Midas Mulligan: That’s funny. That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking.
Galt: We’re alike, you and I.

This is always how the exchanges unfold when two of the “heroes” meet. Never once does someone say something that the other does not concur with wholeheartedly.

James: You’re lucky.
Dagney: What?
James: Other people are human. They’re sensitive. They can’t just dedicate their whole lives to metals and engines. You’ve never had any feelings. I don’t think you’re ever felt a thing.
Dagney: No, Jim. I guess I’ve never felt anything at all.

And this is how the exchanges always go when one of the “heroes” engages one of the “collectivists”. Almost as though it is all…scripted?

[b]Dagny: I’m not interested in their opinion.
James: Then whose do you go by?
Dagny: My own.

Rearden: I’m curious… is it alright with you that I’m squeezing every penny of profit I can from your emergency?
Dagny: I have to get the Rio Norte completely re-railed in nine months or Taggart Transcontinental will crash.
Rearden: They’re doing their best to make it harder for you aren’t they?
Dagny: Yes, but it’s useless to get angry with people like my brother and his friends in Washington. I don’t have time for it. I have to undo what they’ve done.
Rearden: And after?
Dagny: After, they won’t matter anyway.

Mother Rearden [after Readon gives his wife a bracelett made from, Reardon Metal]: Another man would have given his wife a diamond bracelet if he wanted to give her a gift - for her pleasure not his.
Lillian: No, the chain is appropriate. I think it’s the chain by which he keeps us all in bondage. Henry has poured his metal today and I have the first trophy.

Rearden: What are you doing with yourself these days?
Phillip [his brother]: I’m working for Friends of Global Awareness.
Rearden: I know them. What do you want?
Phillip: Money.
Rearden: Doesn’t everyone? Call my office first thing in the morning. I’ll authorize a hundred grand for you.
Phillip: You really don’t care about helping the underprivileged, do you?
Rearden: No Phillip, I don’t, but it’ll make you happy.
Rearden: Oh, it’s not for me Hank. It’s for the benefit of the less privileged. You think I can have the money wired to my account?
Rearden: A wire? Why?
Phillip: Well, the thing is, it’s a Progressive group. They wouldn’t appreciate your name on a check.
Reardon: You’re kidding me.
Phillip: No, it would embarrass us to have you on a list of our contibutors.[/b]

Hank obviously has a lot to learn about being a hero.

Paul: They say you’re intractable, you’re ruthless, your only goal is to make money.
Rearden: My only goal is to make money.
Paul [whispering]: Yes, but you shouldn’t say it.

The set up for the ubermen:

[b]Readon: What do you want?
Francisco: I want to learn to understand you.
Reardon: What for?
Francisco: If it wasn’t for you, most of these people would be left helpless. Why are you willing to carry them?
Reardon: Because they’re a bunch of miserable children trying to stay alive desparately and very badly.
Francisco: Have you told them?
Reardon: Told them what?
Francisco: That you’re working for your sake, not theirs.
Reardon: They know.
Francisco: Yes, they do. But they don’t think that you do.
Reardon: What do I care what they think.
Francisco: Because it’s a battle. A battle in which one must make one’s stand clear.
Reardon: What battle? I don’t fight the disarmed.
Francisco: But they have a weapon against you. It’s their only weapon but it’s a terible one. Ask yourself what it is sometime. There’s a reason you are as unhappy as you are.
Rearden: What exactly is your motive here?
Francisco: Let’s just say it is to give you the words you will need for the time you will need them.

Reardon: Don’t worry, I didn’t come in here for sex?
Lillian: Thank you, dear. What did ypou come in here for?
Rearden: The next time you decide to throw a party, can you stick to your own crowd? Don’t bother inviting people you think are my friends.
Lillian: But Henry, you don’t have any friends.

Dr. Potter [after offering Reardon government money]: Why is it so important for you to struggle for year after year, squeezing out meager gains rather than accept a fortune for Rearden Metal?
Reardon: Because it is mine. Do you understand that concept? Mine.

Dagny: Dr. Akston? One more question. I need the name of your student who worked at the 20th Century Motor Company.
Dr. Akston: I know why you’re here, Miss Taggert. The se ret you’re trying to solve, it’s greater…and I mean much greater…than an engine that runs on atmospheric electricity.
Dagny: I’m not going to give up finding the inventor of that motor.
Dr. Akston: Oh, don’t worry, Miss Taggert, when the time comes, he’ll find you. [/b]

Drum roll please…

Ellis: Who the hell are you?
Galt: My name is John Galt. I live in a place we call Atlantis, and I think you’d fit in there. It’s a place where heroes live; where those who want to be heroes live. The government we have there respects each of us as individuals and as producers. Actually, beyond a few courthouses there isn’t much government at all. Bottom line, Mr Wyatt; if you’re weary of a government that refuses to limit its power over you, if you’re ready at this moment to claim the moral right to your own life, then we should leave, and I’ll take you there. I’ll take you to Atlantis.

Strike! Strike! Strike!

It’s like you’re talking to yourself, dude

On the other hand, with 111,440 views, I’d like to think that a few others are listening. They get the point of the thread, even if you don’t.

Hey, the spectacle of someone passionately talking to themselves can be compelling. Whether they get the point or not, you’ll probably never know. At least you’re having fun, though.

If you ever want to open up the thread to discourse, it would be interesting.

Racism in America. Is it okay to turn it into yet another plot device? Well, that depends of course. But then the manner in which we go about exploring just about anything always depends on one thing or another.

After all, depending on how you define “racist”, who isn’t?

And, let’s face it, here in America a week doesn’t go by without one or another news story sparking folks to discuss the issue of “race in America”. And, of course, nothing quite pisses racists off more than having racism itself shoved in their face.

And then the part about black folks reacting to it all. In that context this film reminds you a lot of Spike Lee’s School Daze. After all, it’s not as though the black students themselves are always of a single mind on issues involving race. Instead, the complexities are everywhere…effecting everyone from their own particular vantage point.

For example, here there’s the part about homosexuality.

Still, one would generally asssume that, at least on a college campus, you are more likely to bump into men and women not hopelessly entangled in the belly of the working class beast. There being racist can easily become the equivalent of breathing in and out. Here though many of the students [both black and white] seem comfortably enscounced in the upper middle class.

But then all that stuff about race gets entangled into all that stuff about class in a post-modern world that is never ever all that far removed from all that stuff about the pursuit of fame and fortune.

IMDb

[b]The invitation for the party as shown in the trailer is almost verbatim the invitation for a real life party that occurred at the University of California, San Diego, on February 10th, 2010. The synopsis and film take many cues from the UCSD “Compton Cookout,” an event run by one African American but attended by UCSD’s predominately white and Asian student body. The event itself went fine, but news about it prompted a massive uproar on campus.

Producer Lena Waithe and writer/director Justin Simien met in a scriptwriter’s group. Despite the fact that the script was over 200 pages long, Waithe was so impressed with Simien’s writing that she told him if he could figure out a way to streamline the script she would produce it, despite having never produced a film before.

The theme of the frat party exhibiting blatant racism, parallels the MLK Day celebration that took place at Arizona state university in January 2014. [/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dear_White_People
trailer: youtu.be/XwJhmqLU0so

DEAR WHITE PEOPLE [2014]
Directed by Justin Simien, Adriana Serrano

[b]Sam [on the radio]: Dear white people, the minimum requirement of black friends needed to not seem racist has just been raised to two. Sorry, but your weed man, Tyrone, does not count.

Sam [on the radio]: Dear white people…apparently Morgan Freeman wasn’t enough. Obama could cure cancer and somewhere white folks will be embroiled in protest. And he’s only half black.

Gabe [on the phone]: So, Sam, how would you feel if someone started a “Dear Black People” show?
Sam: No need. Mass media from Fox News to reality TV on VH1 makes it clear what white people think of us.

Reality TV show producer: So your YouTube show, it’s called “Doing Time at an Ivy League?”
Coco: I’m in my second year of a four year sentence.
Reality TV show producer: Armstrong-Parker, that’s your housing assignment?
Coco: Traditionally it’s where the hopelessly Afrocentric gather to process their guilt over not going to an HBCU. Where the negros be at.
Reality TV show producer: That’s not where you wanted to be, right?
Coco: Bechet House is more my style.
Reality TV show producer: The rich white kids?
Coco: Excuse me?

Reality TV show producer: What part of Chicago are you from?
Coco: Hyde Park.
Reality TV show producer: What street?
Coco: Seventy-eighth and…
Reality TV show producer: Seventy-eighth! That’s Southside, sweetheart. You know what they say. You can take the girl out the hood, but you cannot take the hood…
Coco: There is nothing hood about me!

Sam [on the radio]: Dear white people, this just in: Dating a black person to piss off your parents is a form of racism.

Troy: Do you seriously think you can win?
Sam: Troy, we live in a world where there’s a Big Momma’s House 3. I don’t think I have a chance in hell. Thank God.

Sam: Troy is a legacy kid…and yet it’s under his watch that Armstrong-Parker, the bastion of black culture here was gutted by the Randomization of Housing Act. Now, second years of color no longer have a say in where they go. The culture that’s been fostered in this house for two decades will be wiped out in two years. This wasn’t motivated by a desire to mix things up bring about racial and socioeconomic harmony, no. The black kids are sitting together in the proverbial cafeteria so they must be up to no good. Over a century of houses grouped by sports affiliations political leanings, majors, you name it. Black kids get their own house and suddenly we got a problem? This doesn’t affect the other houses like it does ours. There are plenty of trustees, former coaches, presidents watching out for the others but all we have is a dean who would rather please his massa…
Troy [in the audience]: Yo, that’s enough of that, Sam!
Sam: …then stand up for his own!

Sam [voiceover]: The Armstrong-Parker dining hall is the epicenter of black culture as it stands at Winchester. Only here can you commiserate, celebrate and discuss everything from Kanye West lyrics to theoretical relativism all in a sitting…not to mention find someone who can actually do your hair.

Professor Bodkin: Sam?
Sam: Before you say anything might I remind you that I sat through A Birth of a Nation, Gone with the Wind and Tarantino week without protest.
Professor Bodkin: …Might I also remind you that I read your entire fifteen-page unsolicited treatise on why the Gremlins is actually about suburban white fear of black culture.
Sam: The Gremlins are loud, talk in slang, are addicted to fried chicken and freak out when you get their hair wet.[/b]

Intellectuals discuss race:

[b]Gabe: You invoke minstrelsy for shock value, to what end?
Sam: To invoke the same feeling I get when I turn on the TV and see some so-called reality star shuck and jive for ratings egged on by no doubt white producers. Or the sassy black secretary who has no backstory or character development aside from her skin color.
Gabe: So it’s a tit for tat?
Sam: Are you honestly saying that art can’t be reactionary?
Gabe: You’re reacting to something that’s 100 years old.
Sam [ironically]: Because fear of black men involved in U.S. government is a completely antiquated concept. No social relevance today.
Gabe: I think that sometimes you should hold a mirror up to your audience rather than dropping an ideological piano on their head.
Sam: I just think that works that deal with the African Diaspora through a post-modern lens are outright rejected unless handled by a white artist.
Gabe: African Diaspora?
Sam: Yeah, I said it. I’m sorry, but blackface is alive and well in our culture. Who primarily buys hip hop and watches Housewives of Atlanta? The same homogenized images of black people over and over again? White people, Gabe.
Gabe: Who goes to see Tyler Perry movies?
Sam: We’re an underfed community. None of this changes the fact that the vibrancy…the complexity of black culture has been distilled into commodities and marketing schemes
to be bought and sold.

Sam [on the radio]: Dear white people, please stop touching my hair. Does this look like a petting zoo to you?

Sam [on the radio]: Dear white people, knowing Lil’ Wayne lyrics no longer earns you an honorary black card. It just reminds me of how often you say the word “nigga” when no one black is around as is required in reciting said lyrics.

Sam [on the radio]: Dear white people, in a shocking reversal using the term “African-American” is borderline racist now. It turns out if you’re too worried about political correctness to say “black”, odds are you secretly just want to call us niggers anyway…and truth be told, I’d rather you just be honest about it.

President Fletcher [to the dean of students]: Racism is over in America. The only people who are thinking about it are, I dunno, Mexicans probably.

Dean Fairbanks: Your show is racist.
Sam: Black people can’t be racist. Prejudiced, yes, but not racist. Racism describes a system of disadvantage based on race. Black people can’t be racist since we don’t stand to benefit from such a system.

Sam: You don’t understand. Girls like me…
Gabe: What, have to pick a side? I’m sick of your tragic mulatto bullshit, Sam.
Sam: You can’t say “mulatto.”
Gabe: Mulatto, mulatto, mulatto! I’m sorry if I can’t be your Nubian Prince on my black horse ready to take you back to fucking Zamunda.
Sam: That’s not a real African country.
Gabe: Can I at least get a little credit for a solid ‘Coming to America’ reference? This isn’t you Sam.
Sam: No? And who am I?
Gabe: You’re this girl…
Sam: Perceptive…
Gabe: Who likes to argue with me about every fucking thing. And I hate it because we both know you’re smarter than me. Your favorite director is Bergman. But you tell everyone it’s Spike Lee. You love bebop but you’ve got a thing for Taylor Swift. And I know because my Mac picks up your Mac’s library.
Sam: I was so careful…
Gabe: You like to watch me when you think I’m sleeping and trace the outlines of my face. You’re more Banksy than Barack. But you’ve been co-opted as some sort of revolutionary leader or something. But really, you’re an anarchist. A shit-starter. A beautiful filmmaker. And beautiful in general.

Sam: You’re trying to frighten me, but I think you’re the one who’s scared.
President Fletcher: And I think you long for days when blacks were hanging from trees and denied actual rights that way you’d have something to actually fight against.

Dean Fairbanks: What sort of vision do you have for yourself?
Troy [his son]: Get my degree. Then law school.
Dean Fairbanks: And what’s that got to do with partying with Kurt? With smoking weed and writing jokes? Is it the spotlight Kurt gets? You want to be on tv or something? You know how many Black men waste their lives to get on TV? Be rappers and ball players?
Troy: Dad no. I want what we always talked about. Maybe have my own firm someday? Run for office. Make a difference. Wife. Kids. I want all that. I really, really do.
Dean Fairbanks: And the drugs? God damn it Troy I taught you better than this. I have been in academia a long time, I’ve seen a lot of things. The men who really run this world? You got no idea what they see when they see you. You are not going to be what they all think you are. You will not give them that satisfaction, you hear me?
Troy: Yes sir.

Kurt [voiceover]: Dear white people, are you tired of your humdrum Wonder Bread existence of accidental racism, and wishing you could sip on henny out your crunk cup without a bitch giving you the side eye? Of course you are. For all those looking to unleash their inner negro from years of bondage and oppression, Pastiche proudly presents Dear White People our 89th annual Hallows Eve costume party tonight at 10 Pacific time…or five colored people time. Dudes must rock Fubu, Ecko… Rocawear, or Sean John. XXXL is the smallest sized T-shirt you can wear preferably with a collage of Barack Obama and Tupac on it. Ladies, we need to see huge hoop earrings long nails, and cheap, tight clothes. Proper hood rat starts fights, speaks loudly and when she can’t think of the words she’s trying to say… just makes one up, such as “edjmucated.” Now feel free to fry on up some chicken bring some Kool-Aid, watermelon, forties, and of course, that purple drank. Naturally, there will be a freestyle rap competition so bring it and join us for the party of the year. Oh, and uh…nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga. Boy, that felt good.

Reality TV show producer: Let me get this straight. First you try to break up the black house. Then you take down the sister with the little radio show. Then after all of that your son throws a blackface party.
President Fletcher: Now wait a minute.
Reality TV show producer: Now if you thought you were having trouble finding money before…just wait until cable news gets their hands on this story. I mean, Bill Maher is going to fuck you up.
President Fletcher: You know, I’ve heard enough. I’m sorry.
Reality TV show producer: Look, the point is from where I’m sitting this place is a gold mine.
Dean Fairbanks: What?
Reality TV show producer: Well, we still need the stuff that leads up to the party.
Dean Faribanks: That happened already.
Reality TV show producer: Well yeah, we can re-enact it.
Dean Fairbanks: Re-enact?
Reality TV show producer: It’s a documentary term. The point is, I could be putting together an overall deal today. I am talking real money. Turns out the only thing Americans love in their reality TV more than ignorant black kids is crazy racist white folks.
Dean Fairbanks: Now look here. This is an honorable institution. The idea that we would so much as entertain…
President Fletchers [holds up his hand to shut Fairbanks up and looks over at the producer]: How much we talking?[/b]

I’ve never seen racism used as a plot device, unless that racism occurs as a singular event driving the plot forward. Usually racism is a theme or subject of the film itself. Also, racism is far too broad a subject to say “racism” is the plot, theme, or plot device of the film. It would have to be a specific, and usually historically specific, type of racism. The ten best films about racism are:

  1. The Believer
  2. Do the Right Thing
  3. The Pianist
  4. Planet of the Apes
  5. Borat
  6. American History X
  7. In the Heat of The Night
    8, A Soldier’s Story
  8. Sweet Sweetback’s Badass Song
  9. Jungle Fever

The film Crash, with a whole cast of famous actors (Thandie Newton, Sandra Bullock, Matt Damon, Don Cheadle, Jennifer Esposito, Michael Peña, Brendan Fraser, Terrence Howard, Chris “Ludacris” Bridges, Ryan Phillippe, Larenz Tate) revolves solely around racism… I thought it riveting (not because I care about racism) but because the way the scenes were pieced together was done very well and the acting was great.

My own daughter was designated as “gifted”. But [apparently] there is an enormous gap between that an being designated as a “genuis”. A child prodigy in other words. They are the ones who skip years in school and find themselves more or less interacting in the adult world. Of couse, emotionally and psychologically, they are still basically children. And it is at that considerably more problematic juncture that things can get interesting. Though not always for the better.

And what is it about the human brain that no one ever seems able to come into this world with a high emotional IQ? You know to match the part about intelligence.

And, lets face it, when you are a kid in America, you will almost always be picked on [even bullied] if you exhibit anything resembling a high intelligence. At least in the lower socio-economic communities. Especially if, in turn, you look like a geek. Or, as the “normal” kids will call you here: a freak.

But, let’s be honest, even among the geeks are the assholes. Meet Damon.

Here the usual conflict is on display. Fred is a genius and Jane wants to enscounce him in an environment entirely devoted to expanding that potential. She calls it the “Odyssey of the Mind”. Mom, on the other hand, a cocktail waitress [I think] is less than enthusiastic about it. Fred [naturally] is torn. He is somewhere in the middle between these two extremes. So a happy ending here can only revolve around Fred bringing the two of them together [along with the rest of us] somewhere in the middle.

See if you can spot the difference between what you know and what you understand.

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Man_Tate
trailer: youtu.be/hVb_7Eihd28

LITTLE MAN TATE [1991]
Directed by Jodie Foster

[b]Fred [voiceover]: It’s funny, cause I think I can even remember being born. For the first two weeks of my life I didn’t even have a name. Dede couldn’t make up her mind. She finally decided on Fred. She said that she had never heard of a little kid named Fred before.

Fred [voiceover]: My first grade teacher, Miss Nimvel, told Dede that I never paid attention. That I was probably retarded, and that I had a very limited future as a citizen of the United States. Then a week later, she said I should probably skip second grade, maybe even skip elementary school altogether.

Dede: Hey, guess what next Saturday is.
Fred: You get your period, I get a day alone in the park.
Dede: Very funny, lameo.

Garth [looking at slides of child prodigies]: This one calls himself Joey X but his real name is Joseph Zimmerman. 12 years old. Experimental painter. He’s currently working on a $200,000 commission for Hiroshi Electronics corporate headquarters in Tokyo.
Jane: What does he call this painting?
Garth: “Irony”.
Jane: Write him down, please.
Garth: Next, Cherry Reynolds. 10 years old. Just published a volume of feminist poetry. In the preface, she refers to the American housewife as, and I quote…“A pathetic slamhound with no notion of self-worth whatsoever.”
Jane: Whatever I pay you, Garth, it’s not enough.
Garth: Fred Tate, 7 years old, 2nd grader at Eisenhower Elementary School. He writes poetry, paints in both oils and water, plays the piano at competition level, all the while maintaining what appear to be unlimited skills in math and physics. Can’t explain it Jane, I mean, it’s not so much what he knows, but - what he understands.

Fred [reciting a poem to his elementary school class]: “Death”. There stands death, A bluish distillate in a cup without a saucer. Such a strange place to find a cup, Standing on the back of a hand. Oh, shooting star that fell into my eyes and through my body: Not to forget you. To endure.

Jane: Van Gogh. I wonder why he only painted one iris white.
Fred: Because he was lonely.

Jane: Ms Tate. Ms Tate, please. I didn’t make myself clear. I’m inviting your son to come with us. If he enjoys himself, he’ll be free to enrol in my school in the fall.
Dede: Wait a minute. Um… I don’t even know you. Why would I let you take my kid on some trip, let alone enrol him anywhere, huh?
Jane: I see. Well, in this case, I’m sorry I wasted your time. Goodbye, Fred. You may keep this calendar since I won’t be seeing you again. That way, you can look at Sunflowers any time you want.
Dede: Come on, kid.

Jane [voiceover]: Many gifted children go through some period of existential depression. Pain of the mind can often be worse than pain of the body. There is some ground for belief that genius is touched with madness.
[cue Fred screaming]

Jane [on the phone]: Just a minute here. Why are you suddenly changing your mind? Hm? I don’t mean to pry but, um, do you need time alone or have you made plans that don’t include your son?
Dede: Look, lady. You wanna make me work for it, that’s fine, OK? But we both know that Fred’s a hundred times smarter than the plateheads you got at that school. Now, you want him or not?
Jane: Does he have a suitcase?

Jane [up at the podium]: It’s said that the genius learns without study and knows without learning. That he is eloquent without preparation exact without calculation and profound without reflection. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls t is a great pleasure to welcome you all to the 12th annual “Odyssey of the Mind”.

Damon: Come on, wake up and face north twink. I’m an asshole, assholes don’t have friends. But then I don’t really care.
Fred: You don’t?
Damon: A reasonable man adapts himself to the world around him. An unreasonable man expects to the world to adapt to him. Therefore all progress is made by unreasonable men.
Fred: Jane say that?
Damon: It was George Bernard Shaw.

Jane [holding up three fingers after Damons recovers consciousness]: Damon, how many fingers?
Damon: Orange.

Jane: Ms Tate, Fred is not a leper. Intelligence is not a disease that you have to protect him from. He’s blessed, but he’s certainly not alone. There are many gifted children out there.
Dede: Yeah? How many of 'em are blessed with ulcers, huh? How many of them go to bed worrying about the ozone layer, the rain forest and why innocent people get murdered all the time? Fred worries about everything. He can’t help himself. You wanna send him to college. Jesus. You hear about kids ten years older than him jumping outta windows on account of the pressure.
Jane: Let’s not get hysterical. We’re talking about one class for one summer.
Dede: I told you. We already made plans.
Jane: What I’m trying to tell you is that your son is starving for stimulation and challenge, and for some order in his life. Things that you don’t provide but that I will. I know that to deny a child’s potential is to smother his true self.
Dede: Fred doesn’t give a shit about his potential. He just wants to be a normal, happy little kid.
Jane: Well, he’s not normal, thank God, and he’s certainly not happy. And you underestimate him greatly if you think that a summer by the pool will ever be enough for him. Fred wants to go to college. Don’t take my word for it. Ask him.

Dede: You’re crabby today.
Fred: I’m not crabby, I’m pensive.

Fred [to his mom]: If you send me the checkbook, I’ll balance it for you.

Dede: Listen to me, Jane. If anything happens to him, anything at all 'll kill you. Now, I don’t mean that I’ll just hurt you. I mean that I’ll kill you.

Jane: Now, Fred. These chores are your responsibilities. And for every week that you do them correctly we’ll do something fun like go to the symphony, or rent a nice documentary.

Jane: You think you can tell me Beaton’s refraction formula for the sun? Mr Buckner might ask you that. Energy plus parallax equals…
Fred: How come you always ask me about school? Hm? How come you always talk like you’re reading a book? How come nobody ever comes over? And how come you don’t have any kids of your own? What’s wrong with you?

Make-Up Woman [getting Fred ready to go on TV]: Now remember sweet face, zillions of people all over the world are gonna be watching you; and that means no farting, no picking your nose and no playing with little Mr. Peabody.

Fred [voiceover]: I once got this fortune cookie that said, “only when all things around you are different will you truly belong”. Well, we’re all different that’s for sure. I see Jane everyday at the institute, and once in while Dede let’s her take us out to a fancy restaurant. Sometimes we even have fun. After a while I was the most famous kid at Jane’s school. But then a year later, a 6 year old boy named Willie Yamaguchi got into law school, and suddenly I wasn’t such a big deal anymore. But I don’t care, because I was happy.[/b]

I can’t find a movie thread so this one will have to do.

I watched this movie last night and was really impressed by Pfeiffer and Pacino’s performance. It’s a cliched love story: guy meets a girl who’s lonely and hesitant to fall in love after a previously abusive relationship. He persists and finally wins her over. This scene was a favorite:

youtube.com/watch?v=HOr8EwpHNwY

Now I’m on a Pacino binge. I think this one is philosophy in film, certainly.

Devil’s Advocate. Pacino at his best.

youtube.com/watch?v=7DMDscGOUpg

Another rendition of the disintegrating relationship. This one is all the more convoluted though because it is comes in three parts: Him. Her. Them.

And, to be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure which one this is. The DVD title leaves out the part about him, her or them. Them I suspect.

Anyway, it all merely reinforces the argument I always make about the existential nature of any partiuclar point of view. In fact, the relationship unfolds as it does. But it also unfolds as each of them thinks that it does “in their head”. So, what really happened? Of course you know better than to ask me.

Eleanor Rigby. No, the other one. But, still, one way or another, we all live lives that can only really be understood in context. And by comparison.

Comparing it to what though is where it all becomes particularly complicated. And that is before we get to the part about the characters’ “backstory”.

Of course this all unfolds among people who have plenty of options; and from within a context that is more or less barren of all political and economic references. The usual, in other words.

Still, we suspect right from the get-go there is an underlying tragedy fueling all of this. And we aren’t in the least bit surprised when we learn what it is. But then how many of us have ever had to endure it ourselves? We can only assume then that they come close to encompassing it here.

IMDb

Ned Benson originally intended for the part of Eleanor Rigby to be much smaller and enigmatic. After Jessica Chastain read the script and demanded to know more about Eleanor’s back-story he created an entire section devoted to her character’s perspective.

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Disapp … anor_Rigby
trailer: youtu.be/-Ng4MD66WyU

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ELEANOR RIGBY [2014]
Written and directed by Ned Benson

Conor: Would you still love me if I couldn’t pay for dinner?
Eleanor: Possibly.

In fact, no one pays for the dinner.

[b]Conor [to Eleanor with the waiter chasing him down the street]: Run! Run! Run!

Conor [to Eleranor]: There’s only one heart in this body. Have mercy on me. [/b]

Cut to Eleanor attempting to commit suicide.

[b]Stuart: That’s brutal, man. Maybe she wants you to go after her.
Conor: No, she doesn’t.
Stuart: Maybe wait a couple of days and go after her?
Conor: Stu, don’t.
Stuart: Well, I guess when someone flirts with extinction…
Conor: Shut the fuck up.

Lillian: Do you have an appointment?
Eleanor: I’m Eleanor Rigby.
Lillian: That must be tough.
Eleanor: I’m here to talk my way into your Identity Theory class.

Lillian: So why do you wanna be in my class?
Eleanor: Your course sounds interesting. And, look…you are a colleague of my dad, so…
Lillian: Well, you gotta do better than that.
Eleanor: You want me to make something up?
Lillian: Well, most people do. You’re just taking classes just to take classes, right?
Eleanor: Something like that.
Lillian: Well, let me save you some time. All the perpetual students or hedge fund wives in your generation of too many choices… they usually go to Tim Gunn’s class to listen to him talk about Project Runway. Or you can take the Art History class or the advent of color photography just for a good cocktail party conversation.
Eleanor: “My generation of too many choices”?
Lillian: Democracy has its drawbacks.

Eleanor: You’re teaching classes just to teach classes, right?
Lillian: Something like that. I’m having a month. I’m sorry. Your father didn’t give me much warning or tell me much about you. And I’m really not one for nepotism. I just got the call asking if I could squeeze you into a class. So I don’t really know who you are.
Eleanor: It’s okay. Neither do I.

Alexis [to Conor]: You know, it’s funny how a person just by living can damage another person beyond repair.

Conor: Look…I’m simply asking for my best friend’s opinion. Even if it is an uninformed piece of crap. Did you see this coming?
Stuart: Okay. “We are young. Heartache to heartache. We stand. No promises, no demands. Love is a battlefield.” Pat Benatar.

Lillian [the professor discussing identity…theoretically]: Intuitive answer to this question. At bottom, the sense of Self corresponds to that experience of ownership and impenetrability of one’s thoughts, of one’s internal dialogues, of one’s affective states that many but not all of us have from infancy. Solitude that Descartes had in mind when he redefined the concepts of subject and subjectivity. The faculty of knowing lies within the subject in his head, and the subject has such a status by dint of being enclosed within himself…"[/b]

Got that? How about this:

[b]Lillian: ‘Why the Mind is in the Head’ is the title of one of the lectures delivered at a 1951 symposium. One of the most authoritative voices in this chorus is Ken Gergen’s, who asks the question: ‘can we compellingly re-inscribe what it is to be a person in a way that moves us away from the individualist premise and toward the relational?’

Conor: Where are you living, El?
Eleanor: None of your business. Was that what you so desperately needed to talk to me about?
Conor: No. I was gonna say something good. Something that would’ve solved all our problems and made everything all better, but, you know what? I forgot what it was.

Conor [to Eleanor]: May I keep stalking you?

Julian [to Eleanor]: Tragedy is a foreign country. We don’t know how to talk to the natives.

Conor: I dont want to interfere with her life or whatever she has to do, but I can’t just chalk this up to destiny. I walked on with my life because moving forward was the only way to go.
Mary: I guess people grieve differently.
Conor: I wish there’d be some appropriate, articulate thing to say, but I just wanted the mundane daily bullshit back.
Mary: I think Eleanor wanted something else.

Katy: You pulled the floorboards out from under Conor.
Eleanor: He threw Cody’s stuff into the closet. And then 10 minutes later he ordered Chinese from Madame Wu’s.

Eleanor: How have you and mom made it this far?
Julian: I’m not sure. Endurance? Everyone starts out thinking this is forever. Then things get hard. At some point or another. And then other things don’t pan out the way you thought they would. I suppose the trick is not running for the hills even when you think
it’s the most rational thing to do. I don’t know.

Conor: I, uh, forfeited the loan the bank gave me, I’m losing the lease on my bar… Eleanor’s gone with the fucking wind. I’m 33 years old, and my life’s a fucking boat wreck.
Spencer [his father]: I’m in my 60s. I lost a grandson this year that I’m basically forbidden to talk about, my third wife just walked out on me, and I come here every afternoon to this restaurant named after your mother. It’s time to shoot the crow.[/b]

Some folks just reek of filth. And not all of them are cops. But when cops reek of filth it can be particularly problematic. Especially if they transact their business in places that reek of filth.

Now, this may or may not be an appropriate description of Scotland. But if there are places like this in Scotland [and there are places like this everywhere] I don’t ever want to be there.

Meet Detective Sergeant Bruce Robertson. Filthy or not he knows how to play the game. And only when you learn how to master it in filthy places are you likely to persevere. Even thrive. This guy makes Harvey Keitel’s bad lieutenant look like a saint. Oh, and he knows just when to look straight into the camera.

And if you think Bruce is filth now, watch what happens when the filth finally takes its toll and he comes unglued.

What is particularly delightful about the film are the really, really, really funny cutaways. Apparently Bruce needs to make his point so as to leave no doubt about what that point is.

Could this really be how the world works? And not just in Scotland?

As for the ending, you tell me.

Note: This film is in English. But if you don’t have access to subtitles you may be screwed. In other words, the English that they speak in the filthy parts of Scotland can be all but unintelligible to the more, uh, sophisticated folks like us.

IMDb

[b]James McAvoy has the ability to vomit at will. The scene where Bruce is sick was real vomit.

The alley scene after the Christmas party had no directions in the screenplay; it was just called ‘Shit Reservoir Dogs (1992)’.

The film contains several references to the book it’s based on: the pig that Bruce sees in his hallucinations is very similar to the pig on the original cover design of the book. the man with Carole and Stacey in the supermarket. the thread worm in the painting in Bruce’s hallucinated consultation room. Large portions of the book are narrated by the thread worm growing inside Bruce. [/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Filth_(film
trailer: youtu.be/tymWDB7gtK4

FILTH [2013]
Written and directed by Jon S. Baird

[b]Carole [voiceover]: People ask me, “Carole, how do you and Bruce keep the spice in your marriage?” Well, I tell them it’s really simple. I’m just the ultimate tease.
[walking down the hallway in lingerie]
Carole: Me and Bruce, we’re not that different. We know what we want. We know how to get it. Like this promotion he’s going for. We both know he’ll win. And when he does, the Robertson household is gonna be one big, happy family again. I kid you not.

Bruce [voiceover]: Scotland. This nation brought the world television, the steam engine, golf, whiskey, penicillin, and of course, the deep-fried Mars bar. It is great being Scottish. We’re such a uniquely successful race.

Bruce [voiceover]: The games are always, repeat always, being played. But nobody plays the games like me. Detective Sergeant Bruce Robertson, soon to be Detective Inspector Bruce Robertson. You just have to be the best, and I usually am. Same rules apply.

Bruce [voiceover]: Dougie Gillman is your average Scottish copper. Sixty years ago in the glorious fucking Reich, you’d be turned into handbags! Gillman poses a serious challenge to my promotion prospects. So he, like the others, will have to be eliminated, starting with my main rival for the inspector’s job, Peter Inglis. Inglis is what they call metrosexual…but what I call a fucking bufty.

Bruce [voiceover]: Gus Bain, bit of a long shot because he’s not the sharpest tool in the box. But then, when did a single-figure IQ ever hold anybody back in the police force?

Bruce: I am on a murder case here. That’s M-U-R-D-E-R, which spells S-E-R-I-O-U-S. So if I don’t get my A-R-S-E in G-E-A-R, I’m in serious S-H-I-T, okay?
Chrissie: You’re being so cruel!
Bruce: Love is cruel, Chrissie. Love is cruel.

Bladesey: What made you join the Force?
Bruce: Police oppression, brother.
Bladesey: You wanted to stamp it out from the inside?
Bruce: No, I wanted to be a part of it.

Bruce: See, every time a woman drops her trousers: promotion. Every time a man drops theirs: disciplinary action. Where’s the equality in that?

Doctor: Only champions can rewrite history, yes?
Bruce: Yes, I’ve always believed that it’s the winning that’s important, not the taking part.
Doctor: Only winners are more attractive to the opposite sex, Bruce, eh? Like our successful friend here, the tapeworm. Yes? Who do we trust, Bruce? Why, no one, of course. Not your friends, not your family, not even yourself, Bruce. Especially not yourself, eh? Now, about that pain…

Thug: Did you do her up the arse?
Gorman: Where else is there? Pussy’s for faggots.

Bruce: See, this is the wonderful thing about being the police, Ray. Doesn’t really matter if everybody hates your guts as long as they’re civil to your fucking face.

Toal: How can you have confidence in a man who is constantly undressing you with his eyes, masturbating over images of you?
Bruce: Surely that’s a bit caveman, Bob. In some parts of the country the force even advertise in the gay press now.
Toal: This isn’t some parts of the country. This is Scotland, by Christ!

Bladesey: But heterosexual anal sex need not imply an attitude of misogyny. I read in one of Bunty’s magazines that 20% of heterosexual couples enjoy anal sex while only 50% of homosexual couples do.
Bruce: Whoa, ho, ho. What, are you saying that half the fucking poofs walking about down there don’t actually do each other up the fucking arsehole?!

Bruce [to Amanda]: I think they’ve left me. I think my family have left me. I don’t know how. I can’t remember why. You see, there’s something wrong with me. There is something seriously wrong with me.[/b]

This is when the movie stops being a comedy. I think.

Bruce: Same rules apply.

I have never been all that enthusiastic about so-called “horror” films. And I suppose that revolves by and large around the fact that I do not believe in the supernatural. So how scary can they be when that which is created to frighten you is something you can’t even imagine existing.

But, let’s face it, some of them are so well made you are still able to suspend your disbelief…to become truly absorbed by the fact that you are reacting in a manner you would never have suspected that you would. You get drawn into a story that you know is in part dealing with forces “out there” that impinge on your life. And yet we are never quite able to pin them down. Let alone to control them.

Think of films like The Shining or Rosemary’s Baby or Let the Right One In. There’s just something about the way they are able to link the “horror” with the unknown in life.

And then there’s the part about being a parent and rasising a child with the sort of imagination that make “monsters” all the more problematic still. In fact the child here might be described pretty much as a monster himself. And is he ever hell bent slaying all the rest of them. Only with the Babadook he may well have meet his match. Though at first you’re thinking that maybe the Babadook has met its match.

And then there is always that tricky relationship between monsters and madness. The psychological implication of a mind that meanders into all of the nooks and crannies of the space between what is real and what we begin to imagine is real instead. You’re always wondering: Is it all just in their head?

And interspersed between scenes we are taken out into the, at times, horrific world that we live in. If only by way of the remote control.

Just ever remember this: Life is not always what it seems.

IMDb

[b]Babadook is an anagram of “A bad book”.

William Friedkin (director of The Exorcist (1973)) said “I’ve never seen a more terrifying film than ‘The Babadook’”.

According to writer and director Jennifer Kent, the Babadook was designed based on stills from the lost film London After Midnight (1927) starring Lon Chaney Sr.

Director Jennifer Kent was extremely sensitive about introducing the themes of the film to child-actor Noah Wiseman. During the three weeks of pre-production, she carefully gave him a child-friendly version of what the story was about. Wiseman’s mother was on set throughout filming, and Wiseman himself was never actually present on set during scenes in which Essie Davis’ character abuses her son; Davis instead delivered the lines to an adult actor who stood on his knees. Kent is quoted as saying “I didn’t want to destroy a childhood to make this film.”

A rare achievement for people in a horror movie - everyone alive at the beginning of the film is still alive at the end (unless you count the dog).[/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Babadook
trailer: youtu.be/k5WQZzDRVtw

THE BABADOOK [2014]
Written and directed by Jennifer Kent

[b]Samuel [to a stranger in the supermarket]: My dad is in the cemetary. He got killed driving Mom to the hospital to have me.

Amelia [reading from Mister Babadook]: If it’s in a word, if it’s in a look…you can’t get rid of the Babadook.

Samuel [frantically]: Mom, does it hurt the little boy?! Mommy?! Does it live under the bed?!!

Amelia: Samuel, no monster talk at Aunty Claire’s alright? No Babadook, no nothing.

Claire: Where have you been?!
Amelia: What happened?
Claire: Samuel scared the crap out of Ruby, that’s all. He insisted on talking to this bloody Babadook thing. All day talking into the air. It even freaked my out

Amelia: If the Babadook was real, we’d see it right now, wouldn’t we?
Samuel: It wants to scare you first. Then you’ll see it.
Amelia: Well, I’m not scared.
Samuel: You will be when it creeps into your room at night.
Amelia: That’s enough.
Samuel: You will be when it crawls in and eats your insides!

Samuel [terrified, almost in a trance]: Don’t let it in! Don’t let it in! Don’t let it in! Don’t let it in!

Doctor [after examining Samuel]: I think it may have been a febrile convulsion. That’s when the brain overheats. It always looks worse than it is.
Amelia: I’ve never seen anything like this.
Doctor: He’s obviously suffering a high level of anxiety, very committed to the monster theory.
Amelia: That’s an understatement.
Doctor: All children see monsters.
Amelia: Not like this. And it’s getting worse. He’s becoming aggressive.

Samuel: I’m really hungry, Mom.
Amelia: Why…do…you…have…to…keep…talk-talk-talking? Don’t you ever stop?
Samuel: I was just…
Amelia: I need sleep!
Samuel: I’m sorry Mommy. I was just really hungry.
Amelia: If you’re that hungry, why don’t you go and EAT SHIT?!!

The Babadook [in the guise of her dead husband]: You can bring me the boy. You can bring me the boy. You can bring me the boy. I think it is going to rain.

Amelia: It isn’t real…it isn’t real…it isn’t real.

Samuel: You’re not my mother! You’re not my mother!!
Amelia: I’m sick, Sam. I need help. I just spoke with Mrs. Roach. We’re gonna stay there tonight. You want that? I wanna make it up for you, Sam. I want you to meet your dad. It’s beautiful there. You’ll be happy.
Samuel [after stabbing her with a butcher knife]: Sorry, Mommy!

Amelia [shooting]: This is my house! You are tresspassing in my house!! If you touch my son again, I will fucking kill you!!!

Samuel: How is it?
Amelia: Quiet today.[/b]

You bump into a stranger and you take to him. But who are you really bumping into – the man as he wants you to see him or the man as he actually is? And then in the course of making that transition he might discover a part of you that neither one of you is quite prepared for.

There’s always a gamble in any relationship. Especially in this day and age where our identities [not to mentin our motivations and our intentions] might be coming come from any number of different directions. After all, in the modern world everyone is always trying on one or another new configuration of “I”.

So, you’ve just got to hope you don’t bump into one of the more sinister renditions. And, of course, it works the same for them of you.

On the other hand, here these labyrinthian relationships unfold in the early 1960s. And in Greece. So you make the appropriate adjustments. On the other other hand, it also revolves around that eternal triangle: one beautiful woman, two beautiful men, one older than the other: love and sex. And intrigue. Lots and lots of intrigue. And here, really, how much has changed?

Oh, and one of them is a con artist. Or two of them of you count crooked stockbrokers. But this particular stockbroker around this particular con artist gives a whole new meaning to the expression, “it’s all Greek to me”.

The ending, however, shows just how unpredictable life can be when certain people are thrown together in an extraordinary set of circumstances. You just wouldn’t have predicted it. But, then, it is certainly an ending you can understand.

IMDb

The month of January is named after Janus, the Roman god of transitions, beginnings, gates, doors, doorways, passages and endings, and as such is usually portrayed with two faces, one looking to the future and the other to the past.

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Two_Fa … uary_(film
trailer: youtu.be/TrRHmhIDfjg

THE TWO FACES OF JANUARY [2014]
Written and directed by Hossein Amini

[b]Chester: Don’t look now, but there’s a young guy in a gray shirt sitting with a girl in blue and white striped dress. He was at the Parthenon earlier, staring at me. He’s staring at me now.
Colette: Okay.
[she sneaks a glance as the man walks by them]
Colette: Now I’m curious.

Colette: He’s an American tour guide, he’s been here a year and before that he went to Yale.
Chester: Do you believe him?
Colette: You can ask him yourself. He’s gonna show us around the flea market Sunday.

Chester: No, it got so bad that we started counting how many times a day the Parisians would insult us. We got up to 15 one night, nine in the same restaurant.
Lauren: Was it your first time there?
Colette: Mmm. Chester helped liberate Paris.
Rydal: Oh, really?
Chester: All by myself.
Rydal: You fought in the war?
Chester: Just the last part.
Rydal: Whereabouts?
Chester: Normandy, the Ardennes, a few other places.
Rydal: Wow.[/b]

But don’t let that fool you.

[b]Colette: What did you think?
Chester: Lauren was very sweet. But I wouldn’t trust him to mow my lawn.
Colette: I thought he was…very interesting.
Chester: Oh yeah? Well, that’s 'cause he couldn’t keep his eyes off you all night.

Colette [to Chester]: I thought you said that no one would follow us?

Chester [to Rydal]: The truth is…I owe some people money. They sent him to threaten us with a gun. Look. I don’t know what to do. I mean, I…I don’t know if he’s alone or there’s somebody else in the lobby. All I know is we gotta get out of this hotel before that man wakes up. Can you help us?

Colette: Did you give him any money for the drinks?
Chester: I offered.
Colette: Well, you should have insisted. He’s probably too proud to accept.
Chester: Trust me, he’s doing fine.
Colette: What’s that supposed to mean?
Chester: It means he already skimmed his commission. Why else do you think he’s helping us?
Colette: I’m sure it’s not just the money.
Chester: No. I think he’s also got a thing for you.

Colette [to Rydal]: I bet you wish you had never met us.

Rydal: He died. It’s all over the news. You have to turn yourself in. It was self-defense.
Chester: They mention any suspects?
Rydal: No, but they have they have your passports. It’s just a matter of time. If you turn yourself in…
Chester: They’ll arrest you as an accomplice. Witnesses saw both of us with the body in the hotel hallway. You arranged fake passports for us.
Rydal: No no no.
Chester: You accompanied us to Crete. And now you’re carrying what? An extra $1,000 of my money in your pocket?
Rydal: I’m trying to help you.
Chester: I know. I know you are.
Rydal: Did you know he was dead?

Chester: I’m sure Rydal doesn’t want to hear you whine about how homesick you are.
Rydal: All right, why don’t you lay off her?
Chester: Who, my wife?
Colette [to Rydal]: Don’t rise to it.
Chester: No, let him. Let’s hear what’s on his mind.
[Colette leaves the table]
Chester: Don’t you ever speak to me like that again.
Rydal: Or what?[/b]

A classic instance where both have each other by the balls.

[b]Rydal: Those people that are after him…what did he do?
Colette: He swindled them. He sold them shares in an oil field that didn’t exist. Them and hundreds of other people.
Rydal: How much did you know?
Colette: He’s my husband.

Chester: The truth is we’re joined at the hip. I get caught, I take you down. You get caught, you turn me in. Guess you must’ve thought of that or you would’ve gone to the cops.
Rydal: You have no idea what I’m thinking.
Chester: I know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have a little larceny in your veins. How much do you want?
Rydal: I don’t know. You were married to her. How much do you think she was worth?
Chester: I’ll give you $5,000.
Rydal: Oh, I bet you have a lot more than that in your suitcase.
Chester: $10,000. That’s it.
Rydal: I don’t want your money. I wanted your wife.

Chester [to Rydal, listening to a radio report in Greek about Colette]: Who are they describing, you or me?

Chester: You should be paying me. When we first met, you were shortchanging college girls. Now look at you…a real criminal.
Rydal: There’s something else I want. I want a picture of Colette.[/b]

.