philosophy in film

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]

.

Sometimes the part about “identity” gets particularly tricky. And there are many gimmicks used in film in which to explore it.

One especially: the doppelgänger.

Of course some us will be more inclined to seek out a doppelgänger than others. But among those who are generally timid and weak, submissive and [for all practical purposes] invisible, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone around who is strong and assertive? On the other hand, when you bump into him there will be the inevitable adjustments to be made. Like, for instance, figuring out what the hell is going on.

Let’s face it, some folks have all the personality of a board. There they are, right in front of you, but you never really see them. Or, if you do, you may just as well not have. But, personality aside, the gap between being who you think are and being what you need to be in order to get others to see you as you want to be seen can become rather complicated.

And then there are those who also look the part. Nerds we call them.

Still, there are those of us who actually go out of our way not to be noticed. The more invisible we are the better.

The story comes from a novella by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Although 5 minutes into it you recognize it might just as well have been written by Franz Kafka. Rather surreal one might say. At times it seems right around the corner from Eraserhead. Well, give or take a few blocks.

IMDb

[b]An earlier version of this film, also based on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s novel, and also to have been called The Double, came close to being made by director Roman Polanski in 1996. John Travolta was to have played the lead role alongside Isabelle Adjani, John Goodman and Jean Reno, from a script by Jeremy Leven. Shooting was to have started in Paris in June 1996. However, just days before principal photography was due to begin, Travolta left the project after an argument with Polanski about alleged changes to the script and the film collapsed shortly afterwards.

The drawing Hannah tears up and throws away evokes Magritte’s “Not to Be Reproduced,” a painting commissioned by his patron, Edward James. Two identical images of James are depicted in the painting but his face is not shown. The protagonist and his double are named James.[/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Double_(2013_film
trailer: youtu.be/XG8qATRtNuU

THE DOUBLE [2013]
Written in part and directed by Richard Ayoade

[b]Melanie: You can go now.
Simon: Right. Yes, thank you.
Melanie: Because if I were to find out how depressing and demeaning whatever the fuck it is you do here, I might be forced to feel sorry for you.

…

Narrator: People…the ultimate resource. Yet to some businesses they all look the same. But the colonel knows people are different. The colonel knows business is people and people are business, making your business his business because the colonel knows people and the colonel knows that you demand the most powerful data-processing system on the planet to make sense of it all. The colonel will show you people in a way your business can understand because the colonel knows there’s no such thing as special people.
All: Just people.[/b]

Think of the Colonel as you would, say, Little Brother.

[b]Simon [after he reports a man jumping off the building to the police]: I wonder why he did it.
Detective:: His note said he was lonely. He should have got a dog. Or exercised more.
Simon: Did he suffer?
Detective: Splat.
Simon: Do you see this sort of thing often?
Detective: Every day. That’s what we do…suicides.
Simon: Only suicides?
Detective: That’s right.
Simon: For the whole city?
Detective: We can barely cover the neighborhood.

…

Detective: You’re not thinking of killing yourself, are you?
Simon: Sorry?
Detecive: It’s a simple question.
Simon: No.
Cop: Should I put him down as a “no”?
Detective: Put him down as a “maybe.”

…

Simon [motioning to James]: Doesn’t he remind you of someone?
Harris: Who did you have in mind?
Simon: Me, for instance.
Harris: Oh, yeah, I suppose so.
Simon: You suppose so? Now why doesn’t anyone notice?
Harris: Well, no offense, mate, but you’re pretty unnoticeable. Bit of a non-person.

…

Simon [of Hannah]: I have all these things that I want to say to her, like…Like how I can tell she’s a lonely person, even if other people can’t. Cause I know what it feels like to be lost and lonely and invisible.
James: Simon, you have to go after what you want. I would tear the asshole off an elephant for a piece of trim I wanted that bad.

…

Simon [to James]: I don’t know how to be myself. It’s like I’m permanently outside myself. Like, like you could push your hands straight through me if you wanted to. And I can see the type of man I want to be versus the type of man I actually am and I know that I’m doing it but I’m incapable of what needs to be done. I’m like Pinocchio, a wooden boy. Not a real boy. And it kills me.

…

James: Stop that. That’s gay.
Simon: But you just did it to me.
James: Yes, but it was me. Do you see the difference? You can’t be doing anything gay. No ice-cream cones.
Simon: I like ice cream.
James: Of course. It’s delicious. Ice cream is fine in a cup, but in a cone is gay unless you’re with a woman at the time.
Simon: Anything else?
James: No riding on a motorcycle with another man. Exceptions are drive-by shootings, bomb throwings and purse snatchings. Anything else is gay.
Simon: You seem to know a lot about this.

…

Workers’ Services Executive: You don’t exist anymore.
Simon: Excuse me?
Workers’ Services Executive: You’re no longer in the system.
Simon: Well, just put me back in the system.
Workers’ Services Executive: I can’t put you back in the system.
Simon: Why?
Workers’ Services Executive: Because you don’t exist. I can’t put someone who doesn’t exist in the system.
Simon: But I used to be in the system.
Workers’ Services Executive: Not according to the system. In fact, according to the system, you’ve never existed.
Simon: How reliable is the system?
Workers’ Services Executive: Hey, it’s completely reliable.
Simon: Yes, but I used to exist. I do exist! I’m standing in the this room, aren’t I?
Workers’ Services Executive: And?
Simon: So how do I get back in the system?
Workers’ Services Executive: You need a card.
Simon: Right. So can I please get a new card?
Workers’ Services Executive: No.
Simon: Why?
Workers’ Services Executive: Because you’re not in the system.

…

Simon: You fuckers! You don’t know who you’re dealing with. You don’t know who you’re Dealing with, you fuckers. You fucking fucks. I am a person. Stay back! Stay back, you fucks! You fucking fuckers! I am a person! I exist!

…

Hannah: You probably think I should be thankful that you took me to the hospital, but I’m not. I wanted to die. And now I’m afraid I won’t have the courage to try again. Do you wanna know what I think? I think that you should kill yourself. I promise I won’t try to stop you halfway through.

…

The Colonel: There aren’t too many like you. Are there Simon?
Simon: I’d like to think I’m pretty unique. [/b]

If you spot Bill Hader, how far away can Kristen Wiig be? Also, the other way around.

Here they are twins. The kind that are not identical. Still, there is something about having a twin brother or sister that is bound to draw you in a bit closer to them. Unless of course it doesn’t. Here they are “estranged”. And not only in relationship to each other. In fact, they seem to be estranged from the whole fucking world.

Not unlike me. Only I was estranged from one brother, three sisters, two parents, and tons and tons of relatives. And, from time to time, myself.

On the other hand, in the opening frames Milo and Maggie are both attempting to commit suicide. In fact, Maggie’s suicide attempt is interrupted when she gets a call from the hospital informing her that her brother was just admitted because he slit his wrist.

Really, it took a few years longer for me to get that estranged.

Let’s face it, there are many, many ways in which the gap between what you want and what you’ve got can just get wider and wider. And that is really what this film is all about: how “ordinary people” cope [or do not cope] with that. And, for some, the family can help to bridge the gap. For others though it just gets wider. Everyone has their own rendition. And if you look hard enough you will no doubt spot one or another rendition of yourself here.

Well, if you are of a certain demographic.

Look for Nancy Grace. Sort of.

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Skeleton_Twins
trailer: youtu.be/Xf6CUAIqTOU

THE SKELETON TWINS [2014]
Written in part and directed by Craig Johnson

[b]Maggie: I don’t know. Maybe we were doomed from the beginning. I mean, it’s not like Dad was Mr. Sunshine. Sometimes I think all our problems came directly from him. But a lot of the good stuff did, too. Remember what he always called us? The Gruesome Twosome. He told us to stick together, no matter what. God…what the hell happened to us?

…

Milo’s suicide note: To whom it may concern…See ya later

…

Maggie: Look at you.
Milo: Yeah, look at me. Another tragic gay cliche.

…

Milo: Have you read “Marley and Me?”
Maggie: Yeah. Sad.
Milo: Why is it sad?
Maggie: You don’t know what happens?
Milo: No, that’s why I’m reading it.
Maggie: Sorry.
Milo: What?
Maggie: Nothing.
Milo: Does the dog die at the end?
Maggie: No. I didn’t say that.
Milo: The fucking dog dies at the end.
Maggie: I’m didn’t - I’m not saying anything!
Milo: Look how much I had left!
[he tosses the book to the ground and sighs]
Maggie: I’m sorry I ruined it.
Milo: Maggie, I know the dog dies. Everyone knows the dog dies. It’s the book where the dog dies.
Maggie: Asshole. I see you’re getting your sense of humor back.
Milo: Yeah, they can’t take that away from me.

…

Maggie: So, you met Lance.
Milo: Yeah, I met Lance.
Maggie: Isn’t he the best? Yeah, he’s like a big Labrador retriever.
Milo: Yeah, I guess.
Maggie: He’s just the nicest guy on the planet. I really lucked out.
Milo: Yeah, you’re really going for it.
Maggie: What does that mean?
Milo: You’re going for it…just, like, the job, the house, the furniture…the Lance.
Maggie: I guess I grew up.

…

Milo [in a bar]: So, when do the boys show up?
Woman: It’s Dyke Night, sweetie.
Milo: It’s what?
Woman: Dyke Night.
Milo: Dyke Night? I showed up on Dyke Night?!

…

Milo [at the dinner table]: Did everybody hear how I’ve never taken a shit before?

…

Maggie [to her mother]: Stop trying, Judy. Stop trying. There are worse things than being a shitty mother.
Judy: So…if you’ve finished vomiting all over me…I will just say thank you for dinner, and, Milo, thank you for the invitation.

…

Milo [to Maggie]: Well, at least she is sending us the light.

…

Lance [to Milo about Maggie]: Land mines, man. It’s like sometimes she and I will be strolling through the park laughing, getting along perfect, and then, kaboom, you know? A freakin’ land mine blows my nuts off. And I’ll think, “Oh, I coulda sworn my nuts were there a minute ago. I wonder where they went.” No nuts. - Oh, there… there they are. They got blown clear across the room. They’re sliding down that wall over there. My nuts.

…

Milo: Look, it had nothing to do with you.
Maggie: That is bullshit. You’re my brother. And we’re supposed to be there for each other. And if you don’t get that by now, then, I don’t know, I guess I’ll talk to you in another ten years.

…

Milo [after Maggie tells him of all her affairs]: I guess Lance just doesn’t do it for you.
Maggie: But why? He’s so great. He’s so sweet and cute and nice and he would make such a great dad, and he is the polar opposite of all the assholes that I’m used to dating. He doesn’t deserve a fucking whore as a wife.

…

Maggie: How’d we go 10 years without talking?
Milo: Oh, it’s probably not worth talking about now.

…

Milo: Look, he was confused. I felt terrible for him.
Maggie: Hey! You had no right!
Milo: Things were gonna crash down eventually.
Maggie: No, you were just trying to get back at me.
Milo: I was trying to help you.
Maggie: You ruined my marriage!
Milo: What marriage?
Maggie: Fuck you.

…

Milo: You know what the sad thing is? It’s that we’re a good team.
Maggie: Oh, yeah, and you’d be a real hoot to have around if you weren’t such a fuckup.
Milo: We’re both fuckups, okay? And I’m tired of you acting like you’re the healthy one and I’m your special needs kid.
Maggie: Oh, what does it even matter anymore, Milo? You got your revenge. You got it.
Milo: I was trying to lay it out on the table. That’s what I was trying to do.
Maggie: You wanna lay it out on the table?
Milo: Yes!
Maggie: Okay, then, go for it.
Milo: You’re emotionally unstable.
Maggie: You’re a prick.
Milo: You need professional help.
Maggie: Oh, and this coming from a guy who just tried to kill himself.
Milo: Maybe I should try fucking all my problems away.
Maggie: Well, maybe next time you should cut deeper.
[she tears up at what she said][/b]

Talk about dasein:

Title card: The region where North Korea, China and Russia meet is known as the Yambian Korean Autonomous Perfecture. About 800,000 Korean-Chinese known as Josenjok reside here. Over 90% of the Josenjok population rely only on illegal activities or legally live in South Korea in order to survive.

So, imagine being born and bred there?

On the other hand, no matter where you are born and bred in this day and age, sooner or later it will all come back around to the part about money. And if you don’t have it [and especially if you are deep in debt] you can find yourself compelled to do things that you wouldn’t ordinarily do. And once you set down that road the variables can become increasingly harder to manage. Lots of desparate people will do lots of desperate things. But this is particularly the case in the Yambian Korean Autonomous Pefecture. In other words, lots of people are just plain expendable.

And when they have children that they love…children that they have to raise…it just gets that much more complicated. And then there’s the part about the wife.

Everything here is strictly on a need to know basis. And what you don’t know can kill you. One of those classic yarns where the dupe gets in way over his head. And before he knows it both the thugs and the cops are gunning for him. But then the thugs themselves are gunning for each other.

In large part this convoluted plot revolves around money [of course] but also around the part that three women play in setting so much of the plot in motion. And yet the women themselves are deep in the backgorund by and large.

Bottom line: If this were based on a true story, Gu-nam would be the luckiest man in the world. And this may well be one of the bloodiest films ever made. The difference between gun violence and blade violence is palpable. The hatchet in particular, Fortunately, almost all of the violence is inflicted on the thugs by the thugs. Just not all of it.

Don’t go looking for cartoon characters here. This isn’t a Hollywood production. Or, as Roger Ebert noted:

Looking back at the Hollywood blockbuster action films of 2011 when the year was about to end, I found none of them could top the raw realism of the ambitious South Korean thriller “The Yellow Sea” (2010). When I endured “Transformers 3” last summer, I had no excitement at all with its pointless loud action scenes decorated with weightless CGI. In the case of “The Yellow Sea,” real people and real vehicles are put into the action on the screen, and they are far more visceral than those big, humongous CGI robots fighting on the streets of Chicago.

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Yellow_Sea_(film
trailer: youtu.be/yTCwY79GQ1o

THE YELLOW SEA [Hwanghae] 2010
Written and directed by Hong-jin Na

[b]Gu-nam [voiceover]: When I was 11 years old, rabies went around…A fertile dog brings in good money. My dog caught rabies and it bit its mom to death…then killed anything it could bite. When the neighbors tried to beat it to death, it ran away. Days later it came back, skinny and pitiful as ever. There was nothing behind its dark eyes. It looked at me for a while then slowly laid on the ground and died. I buried the dog behind our neighborhood but it was dug up by the leders that night and devoured…The reason why I thought of it is because the rabies that vanished has come back. It’s going around…

…

Thug: Did you play mah-jongg again? I told you top cut that shit out. Let me remind you again. Even if you sell your eyes, your guts, and your daughter to a diry, sleazy pimp, it still won’t cover your debt. So if you’re not able to pay…[/b]

You know what’s coming of course: he knows someone who has a job for him…

[b]Mr. Myun: Fuckling lowlifes…

…

My Myun: Gu-nam…go kill someone for me in South Korea.
[Gu-nam starts to laugh]
My Myun: You think thuis is a joke? You can never repay your debt here. Do you want to live life like those dogs all your life? Once you’re there you can go see your wife…whether you bring her back or kill her. Just go and do the job. And start your life over.

…

My Myun [handing Gu-nam a note]: Memorize it. All of it. Recite it.
Gu-nam: “Seoul, Gangnam 99-1, Kim Seung-hyun.”
Mr. Myun: Don’t forget it. If you forget, your family is all dead.
[then he burns the note]
My Myun: One more thing. You’ll have to being me one of his fingers. The thumb.

…

Gu-nam [after he kills a man]: Oh, the thumb…[/b]

But is it the right thumb? Here things become really, really complicated.

[b]Gu-nam: I can’t go back to China. I’ll probably die here. But before I die…I need to know who started all of this. And how it happened. Only after I find out…can I die.

…

Gu-nam [looking at the ID of Kim Tae-won, dead on the ground]: He fucked my woman…in my home. My woman. The professor fucked her in my home. [/b]

Alejandro González Iñárritu: Amores Perros, 21 Grams, Babel, Bitiful.

I’ve included them all above.

And now Birdman.

The guy is a fucking genuis. At least in the world of film.

And all of his films touch on the manner in which events far flung can be connected one way or another by six [or less] degrees of separation.

There are the parts that we see, of course. But they are barely the tip of the iceberg. Instead, it is the part beyond our understanding [or control] that often have the greater weight. And by far sometimes.

Only this one [actually] is a lot less like that. This one seems to focus more on one partiuclar stage…and all of the different ways we may or may not be acting on and off it.

As for “the unexpected virtue of ignorance”, it can be difficult at times to make the distinction between something you expect and something you do not. And forget the part about it being a virtue. There are simply too many renditions of that to count.

And then there is a distinction to be made between the existential angst of folks who were at least once “somebody” and the vast multitude that comprises the rest of us. At best we were/are legends only in our minds. So, does that make the angst more or less able to be tolerated? But then “in the end” what the hell does it really mean to be keeping score, anyway?

Look for that too. The nihilism in other words.

And then [of course] the part about the “superheroes”. The “superheros” that have virtually hijacked the film industry. The films that make a ka-zillion dollars everytime they open and, in appealing always to the lowest common denominator among us, have all but washed away what is left of serious cinema in America.

Or as Mike explains it to Riggan:

If this doesn’t work out for you, you fuck off back to your studio pals and dive back into that cultural genocide you guys are perpetrating. A douchebag’s born every minute! That was P.T. Barnum’s premise when he invented the circus…and nothing much has changed. You guys know if you crank out toxic crap people will line up and pay to see it!

But then the film also explores the way actors go about creating characters up on the screen or up on the stage. The way they are always probing the characters and going back and forth with other actors regarding what the character ought to be thinking and feeling and saying and doing – as opposed to, perhaps, what the script says. And the way in which they bring “real life” into them. At least when these characters are not comic book superheroes.

Look for the part about love. Both on and off the stage.

And what a difference a nose makes.

IMDb

[b]There are only sixteen visible cuts in the entire film.

According to Alejandro González Iñárritu, he had dinner with director Mike Nichols in New York two weeks before he began shooting the movie. Iñárritu told Nichols of his plan for how he was going to shoot the movie as one long take. Nichols predicted it would be a disaster because not having the ability to use cuts in editing would inhibit the opportunities for comedy. Iñárritu said the meeting didn’t deter him, but was instead helpful in raising his awareness level of the difficulty of what he was about to do.

Before shooting began, Alejandro González Iñárritu sent his cast a photo of Philippe Petit walking on the tightrope between the Twin Towers. He told them, “Guys, this is the movie we are doing. If we fall, we fail.”

The film plays with notion of Chekov’s gun: “If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off.”

According to one view, the movie is a retelling of Shakespeare’s “Macbeth.” Michael Keaton is Macbeth and Birdman is Lady Macbeth, pushing him to do as he pleases (to be king, or in this case, to be popular and trending). Also, Macbeth famously pursues a course of action aimed at blocking a prophecy proclaimed by witches, while here Keaton uses all his money and time to stop his show from failing as predicted by a female critic. There is also a scene when Keaton’s character leaves a bar, and lines from “Macbeth” are being spoken by an actor on the street. Finally, at one point in the play within the movie, dancing trees are seen on stage, just as in Macbeth.

In the scene where Riggan buys a bottle of liquor, a man is heard (later seen) saying lines from Macbeth, “Poor… player… struts and frets his hour upon the stage… and then is heard no more!” This quote can be seen as talking about Riggan: he has a brief, fretful time on Broadway before he is “heard no more,” he kills himself.

Given the unusual style of filming long takes, Edward Norton and Michael Keaton kept a running tally of flubs made by the actors. Emma Stone made the most mistakes; Zach Galifianakis made the fewest. He actually did mess up a few lines during the filming, but played his mistakes off well enough that the shots were included in the film.

During the press conference in Riggan’s dressing room, he says that he hasn’t played Birdman since 1992. That’s the same year Batman Returns (1992), the last Batman movie starring Michael Keaton, was released.[/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Birdman_(film
trailer: youtu.be/uJfLoE6hanc

BIRDMAN: OR [THE UNEXPECTED VIRTUE OF IGNIORANCE] [2014]
Written in part and directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu

[b]Title card: And did you get what you wanted from this life? I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth
[Raymond Carver, Late Fragment]

…

Riggan [voiceover]: How did we end up here? This place is horrible. Smells like balls. We don’t belong in this shithole.

…

Riggan: Just find me an actor. A good actor. Give me Woody Harrelson.
Jake: He’s doing the next Hunger Games.
Riggan: Michael Fassbender?
Jake: He’s doing the prequel to the X-Men prequel.
Riggan: How about Jeremy Renner?
Jake: Who?
Riggan: Jeremy Renner. He was nominated. He was the Hurt Locker guy.
Jake: Oh, okay. He’s an Avenger.
Riggan: Fuck! They put him in a cape too?!

…

Note on Riggan’s dressing room mirror: “A thing is a thing, not what is said of that thing.”

…

Gabriel: Why would sombody go from playing the lead in a comic book franchise to adapting Raymond Carver for the stage? As you probably know Barthes said that the cultural work done in the past by gods and demigods…now it is done in the commercial
detergent and by comic strip characters.

…

Riggan: Like you said…Barthes said…you see Birdman is like Icarus…
Clara: Okay, hang on. Who is this Barthes guy? Which Birdman was he in?

…

Clara: Now, is it true that you’ve been injecting yourself with semen from baby pigs?
Riggan: I’m sorry, what?
Clara: As a method of facial rejuvenation.
Riggan: Where did you read that?
Clara: It was tweeted by @prostatewhispers.
Riggan: No, that’s not true.
Clara: I know, but did you do it?
Riggan: No, I didn’t do it.
Clara: Okay, then I’ll just write that you’re denying it.
Riggan: No, don’t write anything! Why would you write anything? I didn’t… don’t write what she said.

…

Gabriel: Are you at all afraid that people will say you’re doing this play to battle the impression that you’re a washed up superhero…?
Riggan: No, absolutely not. Absolutely not. That’s why 20 years ago I said no to Birdman 4.

…

Jake: Oh my god! How do you know Mike Shiner?!
Lesley: We share a vagina.

…

Mike [up on the stage at the preview “improvising”]: Is this water? Did you replace my gin with water, man?
Riggan: Mike. Come on.
Mike: No. Come on, what?
Riggan: Come on, you’re drunk.
Mike: I’m drunk? Yes, I’m drunk! I’m supposed to be drunk! Why aren’t you drunk? This is Carver. He left a piece of his liver on the table every time he wrote a fucking page. If I need to be drinking gin, who the fuck are you to touch my gin, man? Listen, you fucked with the period, you fucked with the plot so you could have the best lines, you leave me the fucking tools that I need! Oh, come on people, don’t be so pathetic. Stop looking at the world through your cellphone screens. Have a real experience! Does anybody give a shit about truth other than me? I mean the set is fake, the bananas are fake, there’s fucking nothing in this milk carton, your performance is fake. The only thing that is real on this stage is this chicken. So, I’m gonna work with the chicken.

…

Riggan [to Sylvia]: The last time I flew here from LA, George Clooney was sitting two seats in front of me. With those cuff links, and that…fucking chin. We ended up flying through this really bad storm. The plane started to rattle and shake, and everyone on board was crying, and praying. And I just sat there. Sat there thinking that when Sam opened that paper it was going to be Clooney’s face on the front page. Not mine…Did you know that Farrah Fawcett died on the same day as Michael Jackson?

…

Riggan: Why did we break up?
Sylvia: Because you threw a kitchen knife at me. And an hour later you were telling me how much you loved me. You know, just because I did not like that ridiculous comedy you did with Goldie Hawn did not mean I did not love you. That’s what you alweays do – you confuse love for admiration.

…

Riggan: I have a lot riding on this fucking play. People know who I am, and…
Mike: Bullshit. They don’t know you, your work. Tbey know the guy from the bird suit who tells coy, slightly vomitus stories on Letterman.
Riggan: Well I’m sorry if I’m popular.
Mike: Popular? I don’t give a shit. Popularity is the slutty little cousin of prestige.
Riggan: Okay, I don’t even know what the fuck that means.
Mike: It means, my reputation is riding on this, and that’s worth a, a…
Riggan: A lot.
Mike: A lot, exactly! Fuck you. Yes! If this doesn’t work out for you, you fuck off back to your studio pals and dive back into that cultural genocide you guys are perpetrating. A douchebag’s born every minute! That was P.T. Barnum’s premise when he invented the circus…and nothing much has changed. You guys know if you crank out toxic crap people will line up and pay to see it!

…

Tabitha [the New York Times theatre critic]: You headed for Hollywood, Mike?
Mike: No. Hollywood’s heading hear, Tabby.
Tabitha: Good luck with that.
Mike: “A man becomes a critic when he cannot be an artist the same way that a man becomes an informer when he cannot be a soldier”. Flaubert, right?
Tabitha: He’s a Hollywood clown in a Lycra bird suit.
Mike: Yes, he is. But tomorrow night at 8:00 he is going out on that stage and risking everything.What will you be doing?

…

Riggan: Listen to me. I’m trying to do something important.
Sam: This is not important.
Riggan: It’s important to me! Alright? Maybe not to you, or your cynical friends whose only ambition is to go viral. But to me…To me… this is - God. This is my career, this is my chance to do some work that actually means something.
Sam: Means something to who? You had a career before the third comic book movie, before people began to forget who was inside the bird costume. You’re doing a play based on a book that was written 60 years ago, for a thousand rich old white people whose only real concern is gonna be where they go to have their cake and coffee when it’s over. And let’s face it, Dad, it’s not for the sake of art. It’s because you want to feel relevant again. Well, guess what, there’s a whole world out there where people fight to be relevant every day. And you act like it doesn’t even exist! Things are happening in a place that you willfully ignore, a place that has already forgotten you. I mean, who the fuck are you? You hate bloggers. You mock Twitter. You don’t even have a Facebook page. You’re the one who doesn’t exist. You’re doing this because you’re scared to death, like the rest of us, that you don’t matter. And you know what? You’re right. You don’t. It’s not important. You’re not important. Get used to it. Dad…

…

Lesley: Why don’t I have any self-respect?!
Laura: You’re an actress, honey.

…

Sam is sitting on the parapet of the theatre roof.
Voice from the street: JUUUMP!
Sam: EAT ME!
Voice from the street: OKAY. JUMP ON MY FACE!
Sam: I love this city.

…

Sam: Truth or dare?
Mike: Truth.
Sam: You’re boring.
Mike: Truth is always more interesting.

…

Mike [to Riggan]: My massive hard-on got 50,000 views on youtube!

…

Riggan alter ego: You really fucked up this time. You destroy a genius book with an infantile adaptation. Now you’re about to destroy what’s left of your career. It’s pathetic…You were a movie star once, remember? Pretentious, but happy.
Riggan: I wasn’t happy.
Riggan alter ego: Ignorant, charming. Now you’re just a tiny, bitter cocksucker.
Riggan: I was fucking miserable.
Riggan alter ego: Yeah, but fake miserable. Hollywood miserable. What are you trying to prove? That you’re an artist? Well, you’re not.
Riggan: Fuck you!!
Riggan alter ego: No, fuck you, you coward. We grossed billions! You ashamed of that? Billions!!
Riggan: And billions of flies eat shit every day!![/b]

To jump or not to jump “right back into that Lycra suit”.

[b]Mike: You’ve been hanging around here trying to make yourself invisible behind this fragile little fuck-up routine but you can’t. You’re anything but invisible. You’re big. You’re kind of a great mess. It’s like a candle burning at both ends, but it’s beautiful. No amount of booze or weed or attitude is going to hide that.
Sam: I’m glad you’re an actor and not a writer, 'cause that was, like, Oprah, Hallmark, R. Kelly bad.

…

Sam: How do you do it?
Mike: Do what?
Sam: How do you go out there every single night and pretend to be someone else in front of all those people?
Mike: I don’t pretend out there. I told you. I pretend just about every place else, but not out there.
Sam: That’s a shame.

…

Sam: Do you really think you’ll be ready for opening tomorrow?
Riggan: Yeah, yeah. Yeah, well, I mean, previews were pretty much a train-wreck. We can’t seem to get through without a raging fire or a raging hard-on. I’m broke. I’m not sleeping like, you know, at all. And um, this play is kinda starting to feel like a major deformed version of myself that just keeps following me around, hitting me in the balls with a tiny little hammer. I’m sorry, what was the question?
Sam: Never mind.

…

Sam [showing Riggan the youtube video of him walking down Broadway in his underwear]: 350,000 views in less than an hour. Believe it or not, this is power.

…

Tabitha: It doesn’t matter, I’m gonna destroy your play.
Riggan: But you didn’t even see it… I mean, did I did something to offend you?
Tabitha: As a matter of fact, you did. You took up space in a theater which otherwise might have been used on something worthwile.
Riggan: Okay… well. I mean you don’t even know if it’s any good or not… I didn’t…
Tabitha: That’s true; I haven’t read a word of it or even seen the preview. But after the opening tomorrow I’m gonna turn in the worst review anyone has ever read and I’m gonna close your play. Would you like to know why? Because I hate you and everyone you represent. Entitled, selfish, spoiled children. Blissfully untrained, unversed and unprepared to even attempt real art. Handing each other awards for cartoons and pornography. Measuring your worth in weekends? Well this is the theater and you don’t get to come in here and pretend you can write, direct and act in your own propaganda piece without coming through me first. So break a leg.
Riggan: Well… You know… What has to happen in a person’s life to become a critic anyway? What are you writing? Another review? Is that any good? Is it? Did you even see it? Let me read it.
Tabitha: I will call the police!
Riggan: Call the police… let’s read. Lacklustre… That’s just labels. Marginality… You kidding me? Sounds like you need penicillin to clear that up. That’s a label. That’s all labels. You just label everything. That’s so fuckin’ lazy… You just… You’re a lazy fucker. You know what this is? You even know what that is? You don’t, You know why? Because you can’t see this thing if you don’t have to label it. You mistake all those little noises in your head for true knowledge.
Tabitha: Are you finished?
Riggan: No! I’m not finished! There’s nothing here about technique! There’s nothing in here about structure! There’s nothing in here about intentions! It’s just a bunch of crappy opinions, backed up by even crappier comparisons… You write a couple of paragraphs and you know what? None of this cost you fuckin’ anything! The Fuck! You risk nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! I’m a fucking actor! This play cost me everything… So I tell you what, you take this fucked malicious cowardly shitty written review and you shove that right the fuck up your wrinkly tight ass.
Tabitha: You’re no actor, you’re a celebrity. Let’s be clear on that. I’m gonna kill your play.

…

Riggan as the young Birdman to the bedraggled and defeated Riggan today: It’s a beautiful day. Forget about the Times… everyone else has. Come on. Stand up! So you’re not a great actor. Who cares? You’re much more than that. You tower over these other theater douchebags. You’re a movie star, man! You’re a global force! Don’t you get it? You spent your life building a bank account and a reputation… and you blew 'em both. Good for you. Fuck it. We’ll make a comeback. They’re waiting for something huge. Well, give it to them. Shave off that pathetic goatee. Get some surgery! Sixty’s the new thirty, motherfucker. You’re the original. You paved the way for these other clowns. Give the people what they want… old-fashioned apocalyptic porn. Birdman: The Phoenix Rises. Pimple-faced gamers creaming in their pants. A billion worldwide, guaranteed. You are larger than life, man. You save people from their boring, miserable lives. You make them jump, laugh, shit their pants. All you have to do is…
[Riggan snaps fingers, and explosions occur, shooting starts, soldiers get shot, choppers fly and shoot, one gets shot down]
Young Birdman: That’s what I’m talking about. Bones rattling! Big, loud, fast! Look at these people, at their eyes… they’re sparkling. They love this shit. They love blood. They love action. Not this talky, depressing, philosophical bullshit.
[Birdman shoots laser in giant mechanical bird above the building, it screeches]
Young Birdman: See? There you go, you motherfucker. Gravity doesn’t even apply to you. Wait till you see the faces of those who thought we were finished. Listen to me. Let’s go back one more time and show them what we’re capable of. We have to end it on our own terms… with a grand gesture. Flames. Sacrifice. Icarus. You can do it. You hear me? You are… Birdman!

…

Slvia [after reading a revew in the paper]: You’re happy about this?
Jake: Happy? I’m fucking euphoric! This is the kind of review that turns people into living legends!
Sylvia: He shot the nose off his face!
Jake: He’s got a new nose! And if he doesn’t like that one, we’ll get him a new one! We’ll use Meg Ryan’s guy. [/b]

When you enter the world of the “artistically gifted”, you may find yourself among people who take what they do to a level that is almost impossible for those considerably less gifted to fathom.

Really strange behavior can be the norm. I mean, really strange: “play one wrong note and you die!!”

Oh, and your pretty wife too.

But this film is actually a “thriller”, a “mystery”. We need to find out why someone is intent on shooting this concert pianist making a “comeback” after five years off the stage. And how is it all connected to the missing family fortune of his “mentor”.

In fact, could this actually be a “heist film”?

It’s basically a remake of Phone Booth. Only here the plot is even more preposterous.

Back to the music…

For some, playing the music beautifully is simply not good enough. Instead, it must be played to perfection. Every note precisely as the composer had intended it to be played. I’ve known folks like that. They listen to the music only in order to spot the parts that are not as they “must” be played. It’s not about the emotional or aesthetic reaction, but about the technical skill. Almost as though the music itself is the least of it. And here, given the plot, it just might be.

Look for the “MacGuffin”.

IMDb

[b]Wood had worked with a teacher three weeks prior to going to Barcelona and found it stressful having to play the piano and speak at the same time saying, “It was incredibly technical […] lots of moments where it was jumping from where I’d play, listen to a click, listen to music, have to be in the right place and the right time and hear dialogue and repeat dialogue”.

The closing credit roll takes up 12 minutes of the 90-minute film. [/b]

at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_Piano_(film
trailer: youtu.be/SdMQffEtQeU

GRAND PIANO [2013]
Directed by Eugenio Mira

[b]Marjorie [on the phone]: What I mean is, what is the piano’s significance to you?
Tom: What do you mean?
Marjorie: “La Cinquette”. The unplayable piece, right? “La Cinquette”. Am I mispronouncing it? I mean, you have a history with this piece. Five years ago, at the Flannery…
Tom: That didn’t really work out.
Marjorie: Right. So my question is this. You return to the stage after all these years of silence. Are you nervous about playing the same piano? Are you nervous about choking again?
Tom: Choking?
Marjorie: Do you see this as your last chance at glorious redemption, your one shot to forever…?
Tom: Stop! Sorry. Look…I play piano. This is just another gig, nothing else.

…

Tom: Do you really think Patrick would want me playing his precious piano again? The great screw-up?
Reisinger: What?
Patrick. He’d be embarrassed.
Reisinger: Tom…
Tom: Come on, I always flubbed notes. Tom Selznick, the new Rachmaninoff…if only he didn’t choke.
Reisinger: Tommy, listen to me. Patrick would be proud of you.
Tom: No. I’m gonna screw up, Norman. I know it.
Reisinger: You can’t play charts like these without fudging a note here and there. So what? If you’re going to start playing “carefully”, I’ll just go get the wine and cheese. Do you want to be the thousandth guy to give me a respectable Bach? Because you can keep that. I don’t need respectable. If you’re going to play music this dense, you’re going to hit a wrong note. And they won’t know. They never do.

…

Clem [via earpiece]: Now head to the left side of the stage. Now. In front of you. The top step.
Tom: I see it.
Clem: Look closely. Keep looking. That’s the entry wound of a Rochester .47 automatic with scope laser aim and silencer. The most precise weapon on the market. And the quietest. Now you know the meaning of “stage-fright”.

…

Clem [via earpiece]: Okay. Here are the rules. I can see and hear everything you do. Call for help and I will hear it. Leave the stage and I will see it. Get a cop or a guard involved, I will know it. If you do any of these things, your wife will die. If you play a wrong note, you will no longer be of any use to me and you will die.

…

Clem [via earpiece]: You think you can bargain with me? You’re not in control, Tom. The audience is control. And right now, I’m your audience.

…

Tom: Why? Why did you kill him?
Clem [via earpiece]: You’ve never seen a dead body before, have you? How did you think you could be a great artist with so little life experience? I’ve taught you in a way Patrick never could, which means you’re ready.
Tom: What?
Clem: “La Cinquette”. Remember it?
Tom: What about it?
Clem: “The Unplayable Piece”. Except there are a few people who can play it. Am I right? Who can move their fingers that fast and spread them that wide. One of them died last summer. The other is you.

…

Clem [via earpiece]: I think the mark of a great artist is curiosity. You’re striking me as a mediocre artist. Don’t you know everybody has a price?
Tom: What’s yours?
Clem: Imagine it. Imagine a value. Now double it.
Tom: I can’t.
Clem: Exactly. You can’t, because you don’t have imagination. Because you make your living playing stuff other people write. That’s what you’re good at. That’s your talent. Leave the imagination to the real authors, the real artists.
Tom: You’re just a petty thief.
Clem: And you’re just a puppet. A genius puppet, but just a puppet.

…

Clem [via earpiece]: You sniveling little piece of shit! Are you listening to me, Tom? You knew that was the wrong note. You knew it!
Tom: Yes. But the audience didn’t.
Clem: What the hell do you mean?
Tom: They never do.

…

Tom [to Emma]: I need to finish this.[/b]