'Dexter' and Loneliness

                                                                    Liteweight Pop Psychology

Back in the days (end of the 90s), I ran a huge database called 'Film Incoherence'. Its multiple thematic chapters allowed me to explore all sorts of topics and I came up with some theories about films' or TV series' hidden sub-texts. For example, I contended that 'Baywatch” was about families and, in particular, the need for estranged families / isolated member types to reconvene, to find reassurance and comfort within a good old nuclear unit.

I also had the feeling that 'Dexter' is about... loneliness.

The premise in the series and the books is that Dexter is one of a kind, unlike any other creature -let alone any human-, doomed to hide his secret nature forever, unable of true communion with people. This idea is regularly reiterated.

1)This allows for the recurring plot structure -that some may find stripped the TV series of any surprising development- that saw Dexter come across an alter ego (usually another serial killer) whom he confides in, only to realise mid-way through that his ally-cum-enemy has turned against him in - in every season.

In other words, Dexter repeatedly “finally finds someone” (ahhh). He meets his match and is granted a chance to open up and (to variable extent) pour his heart out, maybe teach his modus operandi - in any case form some sort of alliance. ...The inevitable come-down that is the second half of each season is all the crueller.

Remember the beautiful music chosen for the closing theme (by Daniel Licht): it is not exactly uplifting. I always feel that the composer means to express this idea: forever lonely despite an incredible opportunity to somehow bond, Dexter has no choice but to live another day.

2)Call that irony or perversion. Now, this alter ego to whom Dexter is able to relate is obviously not the one character a man is supposed to share a special connection with ….his wife Rita. (I could bring up at this juncture the subject of the three children but this complicates things, especially with regards to the line taken by the novels: the series seriously departs from them.)

But in fact the theme works a contrario.

3)A qualifying component of the underlying theme is that in fact Dexter is not alone.

First he addresses us, the audience (see also 'Mr Robot'); second he is constantly visited by the spirit of his adoptive father Harry. (Harry crucially was the one who spotted Dexter's true nature and nurtured it.) Harry knew him and -thanks to the magic of 'flash-back' sequences- still knows him – and even often engages him.

Also, for someone having to hide his true identity, Dexter is highly social, very active. Do a quick count: he probably interacts with a large dozen people in every episode! He no otaku, is our Dex.

Finally, I need to make a point about the ending of the original series. It has come to my understanding that a bunch of American fanboy keyboard warriors have decreed that it is awful, worst-ending-ever, etc etc. etc. I most certainly do not agree. With regards to my argument, the final sequence is spot-on: Dexter is now completely alone. Gone is the internal monologue: the three final scenes are silent, the ghost of his mentor nowhere to be seen. To all intents and purposes, Dexter has now gone into even greater hiding, and with no visible hope of being able to get in touch with fellow crime specialists. It is poignant. A hollow husk of a man, he looks shell-shocked.

Other angle of analysis: 'Dexter' is about... parenting. (cf both the original and new seasons)

No Time to Die (but plenty to go for a refill or two)

 I had rather mixed feelings about 'No Time to Die'.

I shall therefore explain why it bored the pants off me - then I may include a conclusion that mentions one good thing about it.

Clocking at about 3 hours and five quarters, the film takes its place inside the saga that started with the terrific 'Casino Royale', once again pitting Daniel Craig against the Spectre network (yes, thank you, I know about earlier movies too). 'No Time to Die' can thus be called the fourth episode of a series. But, where the terrific 'Casino Royale' made no bones about reminding everyone of Bond's true nature (he's a hit-man, “the brawn to M's brain”, her “battering ram”), 'No Time to Die' chooses to present Bond as a man haunted -well, as much as Daniel Craig can do haunted...- by his love for Dr Swann (Léa Seydoux) and so most of the story revolves around Bond and Madeleine enjoying the perfect romance only for Madeleine to betray Bond who then dumps her and then misses her because the craggy old git still loves her and she still loves him but he can't admit it to himself she can't admit it to herself and that's even before they have to admit it to each other but then they do and -hey, ho- it's all systems go again until she quits him and he chases after her and then they get together again and then they split but he still loves her oh what's a man to do, he's -like- totally sad yeah, that's when he discovers -and here we veer into 'Superman Man of Steel' territory- that she has a daughter but, hey, she's not his so who on earth is her dad, could it be the bitch has truly double-timed him for real, dammit he was right all along, oh the pain, the anguish, the clenched teeth that serve as Daniel Craig's introspective expression, except hell no she hasn't, she has always loved him and so has he, they were always meant to be togeva it must have been an act of God then let's leave it at that, agreed? Not agreed, replies Madeleine who may -or may not- have been a sleeping triple Spectre agent gone rogue who then decided to (please note: this reviewer has only seen the first three hours) demonstrate her true feelings to him -that's James Bond that is- in a shocking finale where she sacrifices herself at his hands to save her child's life, thereby revealing the true depth of her feelings for him (like he hasn't been there before ha ha ha) and ensuring that Madeleine Junior will grow up to be an assassin just like her mum and her (presumed/honorary/cuckolded) dad (Reader's voice: 'Wait a second, are we reviewing 'No Time to Die' or 'Kill Bill'??'). ...Funnily, James saw the funny side of it.

Mixing it with these utterly fascinating -and not at all telegraphed- twists, we hear about some (obviously) nefarious world domination plan hatched by a professional malcontent or something - but frankly it's hard to give a flying fuck about it.

Daniel Craig scowls. Daniel Craig stares hard. Daniel Craig snaps. Babes -as befits this 'woke' age- kick arse. Ralph Fiennes condescends. Ralph Fiennes does Ralph Fiennes. Ralph Fiennes oozes upper class. Ralph Fiennes exudes good old patriarchal benevolence. Ralph Fiennes grumps, Ralph Fiennes snarls, Ralph Fiennes sacks 007 once more - and then Ralph Fiennes gets all pally with Bond in the next scene, go figure. Roy-not-Greg Kinnear does his Roy-not-Greg Kinnear posh frowny thing. Planes turn into submarines. Cars fly. French babes rule. Q touches up his glasses. Q hacks entire networks faster than you can say 'Mr Robot'. The Italian country is lush. Scandinavia looks awesome (in the two opposite meanings of the term). Aston Martins come with machine guns, bullet-proof windows and disco lights. Daniel Craig looks great in a tight tuxedo. Cocks crow. Horses neigh. Fish splosh. Hippos growl. Elephants trumpet. Man Citeh and Qatar St-Germain are a disgrace.

And so the franchise endures.

Crimelord with physical deformity -check. Crimelordevillaird on an island -check. James Bond quits oh no he doesn't -check. James gets to run like a mini Tom Cruise -check. Villain wears designer minimalist black clothes (the sure sign of a pervert in any American blockbuster for the last thirty years) -check. Oh, and Stevie Wonder is probably the only person in the world who will have missed that *subtle* belly patting gesture by James's missus in the station scene. 

Interestingly (admittedly, some will judge I use this term rather loosely), I was amused by the geo-political take on the crimelordevillaird location. I won't spoil it for you (it's situated between R*ssia and Ch*na), you'll have to discover it for yourself.

Also, other connoisseurs (sic) (the correct spelling is 'connaisseur'!!) of James Bond movies will appreciate the subtle inclusion of 'We Have All The Time In The World' during the early lovey dovey scenes... ie it ain't gonna end well!!!

Things I didn't like.

The bleeding when oh when oh when oh when oh when oh WHEN will they give us a fuckin' break pale-blue-and-orange colour scheme, fortunately supplemented at times by the recent addition (think the delightful “les petits meurtres d'Agatha Christie” palette) of dayglo turquoise with dark green. Superb photography otherwise – one can never go wrong with night-time neon lights, isn't that right Christopher Doyle? (see the skyscraper night-time fight-scene in 'Skyfall' and the 'John Wick 3' glass-walled multi-fight extravaganza)

The pre-opening credits scene with the (…....) (…......) a (…......) in the (…...), thereby leading her to a life of (…......) (….....) (…............): What the hell is this? An imitation Giallo? Scandinoir for beginners? A effing Bruce Willis vehicle????? Not only that, but its unforgivable mistake is that it also robs us of the customary turned-up-to-eleven opener, the trademark 007 hook. 

You may have noticed that I have hardly mentioned the villain. That's because he hardly features (puts in a cameo at the end, fucks off shortly thereafter) what with the focus of the film -or maybe this piece, mind you...- being Bond's love aches, which can only lead to the unavoidable question:

Who gives a flying fuck about that?? 

By the look of it, 007 will alternate week-ends in the next instalment (“And could you pleeeease for once make sure she has all her school things – or else she'll get behind with her homework again and I'll need to get Q to hack into her school detention record!!”).

For this is no longer the James Bond of yore. Gone is the international playboy, the carefree philanderer, the flamboyant champion at everything. The advent of AIDS, the new (and catastrophically overdue) ecological concerns, the rise of Political Correctness, the arrival of Daniel Craig, the change of editorial direction - all of this has vigorously scrubbed the character of any of the kitsch / camp connotations and unrealistic panache that threatened to turn him into a joke during the 70s and 80s. The current reboot is only logical, following the change of gear with Timothy Dalton. Then Pierce Brosnan appeared – and his tenure did not quite stick to the new, hardened formula. The Daniel Craig period certainly does. His Bond is less extravagant, more stolid. He is less of a charmer, and more of a driven operative. He does not look as ostentatious, but is more brooding (which reminds me of that great line in 'The Trip to Italy' with Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon, something along the lines of: “It's OK to look broody when you're 20, it makes you look all deep and mysterious - If you do it in your forties though, you look grumpy.'). Put another way, the Craigian Bond is less fun. Less over the top. Maybe the appearance of super-efficient Jason Bourne had something to do with it; maybe the producers are trying to make the character more relatable.

Things I liked.

Ana de Armas. One can never get enough of Ana de Armas, who is originally from Cuba ...and who shares her birthday with me :-))).

Daniel Craig. You may not believe it, but I certainly like our Daniel, and always did. I totally respect his decision to leave the Bond franchise (which reminds me of Hugh Jackman explaining what a nightmare it had become to get back into superhuman shape for each new 'Wolverine' instalment). Craig has a lot to offer elsewhere - go check out 'Knives are Out' for instance, where our David is having a ball. In my eyes, Craig has been a terrific Bond (disclosure: he was the one I wanted to see get the job). Now is probably the right time to leave, and hopefully pass the baton to sex-on-legs Idriss Elba (Just imagine... Gasp!!).

Ever since the terrific 'Casino Royale', the timing and utterance of the mandatory 'Bond. James Bond.' line has been a pleasure to look out for. They sure haven't let the side down in this one! (Addendum: and not once, but twice.) Unfortunately, the producers seem to have retired the other trademark 'Oh, Jaaames' line. It worked perfectly in the Roger Moore era ...and therein shall you find the reason why it doesn't anymore. It just wouldn't fit Daniel Craig (surely no-one will have forgotten the disastrous line they made him say about using his little finger in the terrific 'Casino Royale'? Shudder....).

So there you are.

I could go on and reveal how Bond dispatches secret traitor M at the end and flies off to winsome Qatar, but that would be cheeky. Away you go, our David – and best of luck to his successor! (Wanna go for a -say...- black woman as an outside bet? Done! I'll give you 50-to-1 reduced to a 5-to-1 before end of play if you have the balls it's up to you - grab it while you can, just for one day, let the dog see the rabbit, chop chop, luverly jubberly, I'm slashin' me own throat here!)

Halloween PlayList

Halloween Soundtrack: eine kleine Selektion of lesser known tracks and personal favourites of mine to bore the shit out of you.

Japan-Oil on canvas (instrumental)

Carmel-I'm not afraid of you

The Sisters of Mercy-Neverland (the 13 minute version)

Alien Sex Fiend-In and out of my mind (from their classic 'I'm living in a 24 hour maximum security twilight zone' album)

Joy Division-I remember nothing (the last track on 'Unknown Pleasures')

Sinead-Danny Boy (a capella on 'The Late Late Show')

Cocteau Twins-I could die in your rosary (from 'Garlands')

Smog-The only mother (extra track on 'Knock Knock')

Interpol+David Lynch-I touch a red button

This Mortal Coil-Come here my love

Colourbox-In this arena

Oberkampf-Mes amis sont morts

Lisa Gerrard-Sanvean ...you may need a full minute of silence after this one.

Astor Piazzola-devant la glace ('Armaguedon' soundtrack)

Sparklehorse-Saturday

Anya Taylor-Joy-Downtown ('Last Night in Soho' soundtrack. Girl can sing.)

Lou Reed-Rock menuet

The Avalanches-Barbara Payton song, 1minute41, probably my "song of the year"

Antony and the Johnsons-Fell in love with a dead boy

David Bowie-Warszawa

Pink Floyd-The gunner's dream

Cliff Martinez-opening credits of 'Only God Can Judge Me' (basically a rip-off of Bernard Herrmann's 'The Day The Earth Stopped' but, hey)

Nick Cave-I need you -off 'The Skeleton Tree'. Yep.

Mary Margaret o'Hara-You will be loved again

Dark-Monologue at the end of season 2

under consideration:

Johnny Cash with U2-The wanderer

Will Callahan-The breeze (cover version)

REM-Country feedback

Georges Delerue-Police python 357 opening credits

Smog-To be of use

Massive Attack-Come live with me

Yazoo-Winter kills

closing with Pink Floyd-Pigs on the wing

I didn't want to simply copy-and-past the 'That's What I Call Goth vol. 25' listing with your usual Cure-Lovecats, Smiths-Heaven knows I'm miserable now, Bauhaus-Ziggy stardust, Black-It's a wonderful life, Metallica-Enter sandman, Zig Zig Sputnik-You sank my battleship PP51, Kelly Osbourne-Fade to grey, the theme choon to the X Files and Dr. Who, Nick Cave-The weeping song, Blur covers The sun ain't gonna shine anymore etc.

The Future

 

Re. PC, internet, smartphone: what’s the next big technological epoch? | John Naughton | The Guardian / holograms of Elvis, Tupac, Abba touring etc., I wager that the next 'epoch' -for the rich part of humanity, that is- will consist of tailoring our personal -either private or communal (see below)- reality by peopling it with impressively re-booted (check out "deepfake") figures of the past or present.

Namely: immersive full helmet or bodysuit on, we will be able to live out our fantasies in our own dreamworld with our favourite celebrities who will never die. In this new re-created world, our loved ones will never leave us; our (political / religious / racial / sexual / class structure / sports supporting etc.) tribe will rule the Earth; we will be able to enforce our own ideology and standards; we will have sex with / slay whichever celebrity is available for digitisation and so on. Oh, and the Nazis -you knew this was coming- did not lose WW2.

In short, we will create our own reality.

The technology already exists – and I can't possibly pass up the opportunity to rehash the old William Gibson quote: “The future is already here, it's just not evenly distributed”. With this fact on one hand and another side of the equation (see below) firmly on course on the other, I daresay we are looking at no further than a very real possibility of this happening in around twenty years' time, if not before.

Sure, this is -literally- “science-fiction”, but science-fiction at its most divinatory, and you can easily reference the likes of Phil K Dick, the Bruce Willis "Surrogates" movie, 'The Matrix', 'The 13^th Floor', 'Westworld', 'Elysium', 'Land of the Dead', the 'Black Mirrrrr' episode with Jesse Plemons parodying 'Star Trek", and so on and so forth via countless variations on the theme. Inevitably, I seem to remember that there was an episode in the first season of 'Black Mirrrrr' along these lines + hasn't the Net and its sosholmedia already created 'silos' and 'echo chambers' where niches prosper away from reality and its attending alterity?

But this is not all.

Meanwhile, the rest of humanity -probably around 99% of it- will suffer the apocalyptic effects of Global Warming / Climate Disruption. Everyone with half a brain knows that this world will be seriously messed up by 2050, prompting local conflicts, mass migration, the rise of ever more aggressive religion, a chasm between “the West” and the rest, open conflict between the haves and the haves-not.

The objective of life will be to escape the burning world outside for however long as possible and to qualify for the cocooned shelter of such plugged-in alter-life. The high-tech havens will come in gradual levels of sophistication, so as to offer the seduction of possible admittance to the general public and ensure its active support. (Needless to say, the 0,1% of the 0,1% at the top will remain well out of reach, in New Zealand or Nebraska.)

In turn, these new high-tech microcosms will bring about the emergence of new working classes/strata trained to build them, maintain them, tend to them, service them, and safeguard them in exchange for the relative safety of living in their vicinity - think MASSIVE security at the borders of the enclaves. Not only that, but these technology-based communities will also boost military enterprising: they need raw materials and energy supplies (Ever heard of the curious appearance of Chinese scientists all over Africa? Ever wondered why?). Deals will be cut with tribal warlords, this is not going to be pretty but, hey, (PS added one week after my original argument -Talk about prescience!) people will be able to enjoy Zuckerberg's “metaverse” fantasy...

#augmentedreality #transhuman

...Pro'bly ought to write a story about it now. Loig Allix Thivend, All rights reserved.

Time Travel Scenarios

 

Time Travel Scenarios

1)One can only travel along a fixed timeline.

The idea is: the time traveller is a tourist that has no agency over the events unravelling.

First variant: he/she can only observe what is going on. (cf. The tourist disasters of 'Fringe')

Second variant: no matter what the time-traveller does, events have been pre-ordained and will occur regardless. ('la Jetée'->'The 12 Monkeys'; 'Donny Darko'; 'Terminator 3')

2)Actions change the future.

In this scenario, the time traveller can act and therefore alter the chain of events. (cf. Bradbury's 'A Sound Of Thunder'; 'Primer'; 'The Butterfly Effect'; 'Happy Deathday'; 'TimeCop')

The German series 'Dark' plays the second hypothesis against the first one.

...And then throws in the third logic for good measure!

3)Creating alternative chains of events.

Every action creates a new chronology that branches out from the original timeline: it's the multiverse theory. (This is what the Terminator makers resorted to in the 5^th? Movie, having pretty much exhausted the second train of thought.).

PRACTICAL MEASURES TO FIGHT THE EARTH'S DESTRUCTION

People may feel helpless; think that the apocalypse going on has nothing to do with them; or else take the easy way out and “blame the government” or “the others” - which is always a convenient cop-out.

This would be the wrong attitude to take because there ARE things we can all do, every one of us - Remember that the world starts with YOU. Yes, you can. Every little helps. So here is a quick list of concrete, realistic, feasible resolutions I came up with.

WE CAN ALL DO SOMETHING AT OUR INDIVIDUAL LEVEL

PRACTICAL MEASURES TO FIGHT THE EARTH'S DESTRUCTION

WHENEVER POSSIBLE...*

Go vegetarian.

Buy fewer clothes (clothes production is one of the most polluting activities on Earth). Wear yours as long as you can. Don't change your mobile phone frequently. Recycle.

Do less laundry (it's equally very polluting) - and not for single items.

Recycle.

Take the stairs, not the lift. Walk or cycle whenever you can.

Go vegetarian.

Reduce your avocado and chocolate consumption (yes, :-((( ): producing these uses up huge quantities of water.

Buy local products.

Use public transport; carpool. Take the plane as seldom as possible, and just for travel that would be impossible otherwise.

Don't keep engines running / idling. Switch off the light, turn off the tap, use air conditioning as little as possible. Unplug electrical appliances when not in use.

Write fewer emails. These burn up energy too.

Go vegetarian.

Eat smaller portions - don't waste food.

Use washable, recyclable glass bottles – not plastic ones.

Plant something (a tree, flowers, a plant...).

Buy second-hand. Don't support the soul sapping, self-defeating, and ultimately senseless drive to produce ever more. THERE IS NO PLANET B.

*Yes, I know the inevitable reply: "But, but, with me it's different (I can't do this or that in my position)..."

Also:

Ban cruise ships and bitcoin – they are monumentally polluting.

Close down golf courses. Only wankers play golf anyway.

100 Practical Ways to Reverse Climate Change (nationalgeographic.com)

a quick piece on The Ladyboys of Bangkok with regards to the current tour

 

                                                         (please note: unofficial artwork)

Born in 1998 in Edinburgh and applauded by -estimates vary- a hefty couple of millions of spectators already, The Ladyboys of Bangkok have carved themselves a unique place between cabaret, burlesque and musical.

Each year brings a new theme, around which the show riffs, builds on, ducks and weaves, plays with, and generally subverts. This year (or rather last – see explanation later) is no exception: it's called 'Flights of Fancy' -geddit?????- and proposes dance numbers based around the idea of taking a trip “to paradise” (as the opening song by the Pet Shop Boys goes). And so it starts with your air hostess -not to be confused with a Trolley Dolly hell no- taking you through the pants wetting procedure.

                                                    (please note: unofficial artwork)

The show, which involves a dozen dancers, comprises about a couple dozen songs and features -if I remember correctly- some four hundred costumes, lasting nearly two hours divided in the middle by a ten minute break. Pretty much like a football match, then (easy confusion to make).

What with that COVID thing, contact with the stars of the show is now prohibited – meaning there are no longer go-go girls -or boys- dancing in the middle of the audience and you can't have your photo taken with your favourite anymore – a practice anyone who has ever been to Thailand will recognise. 

This year's show is, in effect, last year's - the 2020 tour having been understandably cancelled.

                                            (please note: unofficial artwork)

Aficionados of double-entendres, risqué-but-not-quite dance routines, pearl clutching, fishnet stockings, fatal misunderstandings and strategically placed tassels will feel right at home. But this does not make it a specific / target audience: whole families -over eighteen though- flock to see it. Plus a huge majority of women, stag nights, birthday nights out, gym bunnies, couples in search of inspiration, straight, gay, inbetween, tourists, dance students, as well as occasional Thai nationals (I can still remember a venerable grandmother being saluted onstage).

Musical genres covered: not just current hits like Rihanna Beyonce et al, but also oldies-but-goldies (like 'Grease'), rock (like Queen) or film musicals (like 'The Sound of Music' or 'Moulin Rouge'). I have yet to see them perform to the sound of Extreme Noise Terror or Godspeed You! Black Emperorrr but I live in hope.

                                          (please note: unofficial artwork)

Finally, I would like to make a point about the performers' genuine professionalism. Should you ever attend the show several times in a row, you will be impressed by how well rehearsed they are, hitting the exact same spots / poses every time. I have also seen them perform in front of about fifteen people in the middle of a midweek afternoon and they gave it their all regardless. Compare and contrast with rock bands eh...

Verdict: put your seatbelt on, turbulences ahoy!

"sous contruction"

 

Pression d'une cent-quarantaine de kilos inégalement divisée, appliquée seize fois avec un volume d'une trentaine de décibels également répété seize fois – puis une pause. Deux souffles, l'un plus fort que l'autre. Frôlement, objets déplacés, crissement, raclure, enfoncement métallique, déclic. Pression, grincement, déplacement d'air, début d'équilibre de température oscillant entre 16 et 18,2 degrés. 

Pressions sur le linoléum, reconfiguration des éléments dans l'espace. Montées de décibels, froissements, transfert de poids, grincements métalliques. Pas maintenant plus feutrés, voix. Glissement, appel d'air, détonation, rapide déversement. Pas, voix, clinquement de verre, déglutition, nouveau transfert de volume liquide. Nouveaux pas et petite détonation. Pas glissés, synthétique sur linoléum, velours, métal. 

Bruit de sommier, voix, crissements de tissus, dépliage, "pop" de boutons, "zip" de fermeture-éclair, réarrangement de poids, grincements, glissement. Exaltations d'odeurs, évaporation, réorganisation de la surface acoustique, nouveaux grincements, pressions. Lin sur cotton, synthétique. Claquement, disparition de la luminosité, expirations de moins en moins rapides ou bruyantes.

remarques sur Soumission Houellebecq

Quelques éléments de réflection au sujet de “Soumission”

Evacuons de suite l'intro : si vous lisez cet essai, c'est que vous savez sans doute de quoi parle le livre et l'avez sans doute lu. Vous connaissez sans doute aussi le sacré personnage qu'est Houellebecq. Je révèle de suite : j'adore Houellebecq; je considère qu'il est un écrivain important pour notre “époque” (disons, le début du XXIe siècle en France) en ce qu'il met à jour, dépeint et articule beaucoup de ses courants sous-jacents.

Parlons maintenant de “Soumission”. Je ne prétends pas en proposer une vue particulièrement brillante ou originale, je veux juste exposer quelques objections qui me sont venues à l'esprit – surtout en ce qui concerne (on va dire) le dernier tiers du roman.

Tout d'abord, la plupart, sinon tous, des romans de Hllb partent du même principe (the same premise) : le narrateur / la France / le monde occidental a connu son apogée et, à cause de cette satanée gauche et du libéralisme triomphant, ne lui reste plus à venir que la décadence dont il prend conscience par son corps (souvent via des problèmes de santé), sa vie sexuelle, sa conscience. Défaitisme, nihilisme, désillusions constituent sa raison d'être (en anglais) et son fond de commerce.

Et c'est justement là la faille de départ. Autant je suis d'accord avec lui sur certains points précis (il fait feu de références avec des marques de produits et des noms réels), autant -si j'y réfléchis- on peut considérer qu'il saborde ainsi ses explorations. Il est de mauvaise foi; il procède d'un parti pris (a fait accompli en anglais). Si ses protagonistes (dans le cas précis François -François / Français... get it?????-) se coupent dès le début de l'histoire des autres -que ce soit d'amis potentiels, de leur famille, ou de la “société” au sens large- ils ne peuvent guère ensuite se plaindre de leur solitude.

Et justement, l'un des points majeurs de l'islam que Hllb ne mentionne qu'une seule fois très brièvement, est qu'il offre un principe de fraternité entre ses adeptes (qui n'a pas entendu des jeunes musulmans s'appeler 'frère” ?). Il y avait là quelque chose à creuser, qui répondrait à l'attente de François. François n'envisagera sa conversion qu'en termes d'avantages quotidiens précis (plus particulièrement avoir une petite minette et une cuisinère à disposition) mais ne la met pas en relation avec sa quête de religion (entendue dans le sens étymologique de “religare” = relier). Il est étrange que Hllb n'entrevoie la perspective de faire partie d'une communauté qu'en référence au christianisme (François va y réfléchir dans le couvent de Huysmans) ...mais pas en référence à l'islam.

En d'autres termes, la conversion de François est prosaïque, intéressée –et pourquoi pas, dans le cadre dit “diégiétique” de l'histoire !- mais n'est pas mise en rapport avec la pratique islamique qui est tout de même le sujet du roman. Bizarre.

Autre problème.

Le roman commence tellement bien... Il est brillant quant à sa présentation du sujet principal (the plot) : Hllb imagine finement comment et pourquoi un parti islamique pourrait remporter l'élection présidentielle française; puis il ne se concentre plus que sur l'histoire de son protagoniste. Son panorama finement tissé géo-politique disparait.

Quid du Fr*nt National ? (Qui, après tout, était à 50/50 avec le candidat musulman !) On n'en parle plus. Quid de l'opposition politique ? Il ne la mentionne que sur cinq lignes. Quid des affrontements violents (mentionnés au début du livre, n'oublions pas) ? On n'en parle plus. Quid des conséquences légales avec le reste de l'Union Européenne (contre qui Hllb a une dent) ? On n'en parle pas. Quid du fonctionnement du gouvernement une fois installé ? On en parle à peine. Quid des autres personnages (le prof penseur d'extrême-droite -arrêtons avec ces néologismes débiles médiatiques tels que “identitaire”- et le spécialiste du renseignement) ? On n'en parle plus, ils ont disparu. Il aurait été justement fascinant de savoir ce qu'il advient du premier. Ca aurait équilibré le propos, donné un autre point de vue, et apporté la contradiction au va bene accordé au nouveau régime.

Et quid des femmes ? Je reviendrai sur ce sujet.

Avec ces passages à la trappe, il me semble que Hllb gâche son excellent travail. Son projet perd en complexité, en profondeur. Il ne s'intéresse plus qu'à son personnage. A ce propos, il ne me semble pas exagéré de voir en ce choix -ou focus, pour parler en charabia universitaire actuel- une possible mise en valeur de ce personnage tenant presque de l'identification : François pourrait être vu comme le représentant d'une certain groupe social français (bourgeois, intellectuel, blanc, la quarantaine sinon plus, parisien) et -osons le dire puisque vous y pensez certainement déjà- comme l'alter ego de Hllb en personne. L'auteur a évidemment le droit de poser son protagoniste ainsi – mais il perd de ce fait de sa vision générale (les autres personnages, les autres parties de la société).

Ce qui nous amène à l'un des traits de l'oeuvre houellebecquienne. La plupart sinon tous ces livres sont basés sur un personnage principal (bourgeois, intellectuel, blanc, la quarantaine sinon plus) dont on suit le point de vue et les péripéties via sa voix intérieure (narration subjective). Je sais, si je me rappelle bien, “les particules élémentaires” offrait plusieurs protagonistes avec une narration à la troisième personne mais, la plupart du temps, Hllb opère grâce au sortilège (trickery) de la narration subjective. Celle-ci emprisonne le lecteur, identifie l'histoire au narrateur (ou vice versa), privilégie un point de vue particulier, et exclut de fait les autres perspectives. Cette technique est efficace. Elle fonctionne souvent très bien et je n'en fais pas une critique.

Le problème -me semble-t-il- pointe le nez quand Hllb décolle des histoires romanesques pour l'appliquer à un véritable sujet de société qui dépasse le cadre des péripéties / du seul point de vue d'un personnage.

Dans un sens, le fait qu'il se soit donné la peine de tisser un compte-rendu socio-politique réaliste, réfléchi, avec des points de vue et personnages différents lors de la première moitié de son livre pour ensuite les abandonner témoigne d'une certaine confusion dans son entreprise, d'un manque de constance, voire d'une certaine roublardise intellectuelle (you can't have it both ways).

Hllb est assez intelligent pour se douter que publier un roman de politique-fiction sur le thème de l'avènement de l'islam en France ne pourra pas être pris à la légère. Et de fait, il prend bien soin d'avancer ses pions en offrant des explications tout à fait crédibles; malheureusement il écarte ensuite toutes ses contextualisations pour ne plus jouer que de la corde du héros malmené. Ce faisant, il perd en crébilité. Il se doute bien que les polémistes de tout bord l'attendent au tournant ...mais il abandonne en chemin son brillant travail d'argumentation et “Soumission” devient un nouveau chapitre dans son oeuvre romanesque. Le livre offre soudain le flanc aux attaques polémiques.

Bref autre point qui vaut ce qu'il vaut : j'ai eu l'impression tout au long de la lecture que Hllb devient de moins en moins drôle. Là aussi, “Soumission” commençait assez bien : cette fois, il se payait la tête de Bayrou (après celle de JeanPierrePernaut) et puis … la satire s'estompe, les traits fulgurants se font plus rares. J'ai eu l'impression qu'il était moins mordant que d'habitude. Il ne balance plus autant de ses jugements désopilants (“Tu passes Beethoven en vitesse rapide, c'est du Mozart !”). (Ceci étant dit, à la réflexion, on ne riait guère avec “Plateforme” ou “le Territoire” ou “la possibilité” ou “les Particules”... Soit.)

Passons enfin au cran au-dessus : en quoi “Soumission” a probablement tort - revenons sur le sujet des femmes.

Donc le roman raconte que les femmes disparaissent de la sphère publique / professionnelle pour être reléguées à la cuisine et chambre à coucher. Ma question est : est-ce bien réaliste dans le cadre de la France (membre de l'Union Européenne, on le rappelle encore) en 2022 ? Problème de verisimilitude. On en revient à mes objections précédentes : Hllb évacue en chemin le contexte, la réalité géo-politique. En fait allons plus loin, imaginons même que la mise au placard des femmes françaises se réalise dans le cadre de la fable racontée : quelqu'un imagine-t-il / elle (hi hi) sérieusement que la soumission des femmes -on rappelle que, comme pour le score du FN (mais cette fois de la population), sa grandeur se situe à hauteur de 50% tout de même !- se produirait instantanément et sans résistance ?? … Clairement, l'auteur n'est pas crédible.

Autre sujet qui fâche : la présentation des femmes par Hllb comme unique objet sexuel (voir ses autres livres). On revient encore à mes remarques sur son choix de point de vue unique : il est pratique (convenient) pour l'auteur d'argumenter que cette perspective ne représente que celle du personnage principal, mais.... c'est un peu facile. On appréciera le fait que le seul personnage féminin crédité d'intelligence dans le roman (l'universitaire mariée au chef des renseignements) est lourdement présentée comme étant physiquement hideuse. Curieux hasard. D'autant plus que le principal -et seul ?- attrait de Myriam est sa disponibilité sexuelle.

Suivant ce système de valeurs (et hop ! Un autre rappel de mes remarques plus haut !), il est alors logique que le protagoniste se sente seul ...quand il se coupe d'une trentaine de millions de possibles partenaires de discussions. Il est un intellectuel et se comporte comme une brute; son parcours est donc voué à l'échec. L'édifice bâti par Hllb est un chateau de sable, un faux dilemme basé sur du sexisme réducteur et auto-apitoyé.

A développer.

Mark E Smith movie casting

 

'The Otherwise', starring:

His Lordship uncle Nick Cave as Mark E Smith

Santiago Segura as Marc Riley

Marc Riley as Steve Hanley

Abella Danger as Brix Smith

Richard Ayoade as Guitarist Tech Promoted to Lead Guitar Player

Jack Nicholson as Margaret Thatcher

Morrissey as Billy Duffy

Mary-Ann Hhhhhhobbs as John Peel

Pat Nevin as (we'll find a part for him)

Steve Morris, Maxine Peake, Fabrice Luchini as the successive drummer

Julian Clary as Satanic Biker #1

William Shatner as Satanic Biker #2

John Cooper Clarke as Martin Hannett

Barry Adamson as Kazoo Player

Sir Alex Ferguson as Mark E Smith's da

Shaun Ryder as Mark E Smith's son

John Robb as local radio reporter

Sarah Cracknell as Sarah Cracknell

Danny de Vito as Pete Shelley

featuring Sean Paul

directed by Peter Strickland with additional scenes by Guy Maddin and Panos Cosmatos

...I think it would work.

Representation, Tokenism, The Importance of Intention etc.

 

Please Note: Under Construction

Notes on essay about representation, tokenism, grey zones, the importance of prime intention, "culture wars", censorship, etc.

“Hello mr. Tree, meet mrs. Forest”

A certain critique is based on the idea that if a negative character is a member of a certain group (such as women, black people, homosexuals, muslims and so on), it follows that the artist's intention is racist.

As if one character has to stand as a representative of an entire group.

In the other direction, it is customary to hear anti-racists denounce the claim by someone accused of being a racist that “some of his/her best friends are (black, homosexual, etc.)” as tokenistic.

As if one person could not stand as a representative of an entire group.

I would suggest a twofold look at the issue of representation onscreen.

First, we could start by examining whether all members of a certain group are portrayed negatively. If that is the case then, yes, this would seem to prove the racist intentions of the film-maker.

But what about nice members of the group under scrutiny? What happens when we can find one member disproving the aspersion cast at that group? Doesn't it invalidate the accusation of racism? ...Or is he/she a token?

This is where I would suggest we remember this ingenious look at the representation of women onscreen: the Bechdel Test. / Bechdel test - Wikipedia /

To pass the Bechdel Test, a movie has to feature 1) at least two women, 2) who talk to each other, and 3) about something else than a man.

This could be adapted for the issue of tokenism.

The Allix Test could state that a novel/movie should feature

 1) at least two members of at least one different group,

 2) who act independently of each other (ie they are not generically the same), 

3) who act to serve the unfolding plot and not to represent their community, 

and -we could even add- 4) whose only function is not to be there 'to do the right thing': ie they have not been planted to paper over the otherwise possible systematic negative portrayal of their group.

Before we go any further, we probably ought to offer a definition of the term 'racism'. The way I see it, it comprises two distinct significations:

1. Some groups are inferior to others.

2. All members of a group are identical: they think the same, they act the same. To know one is to know them all; they have no identity.

Another case: “exoticising” and “cultural appropriation”.

A Guardian writer once argued that white men dating black or Oriental women are “exoticising” (sic) them, the underlying idea being that such men are not interested in these women's individuality but are only getting their sexual kicks from their physical or cultural differences. And this, for the columnist, was tantamount to racism.

Let us try to break down this reasoning.

In effect, the writer was saying that members of a certain group ought not date members of another group because the seducers (for lack of a better word) are not engaged in recognising the individuality of their conquests (for lack of a better word, part two). And this is so because the seducers cannot possibly recognise the individuality of their conquests.

This brings us back to a familiar trope: one cannot possibly know how it feels to be a member of a different group. This theme has been explored many times by rappers and is known in French as “communautarisme”. It is certainly problematic. If one were to follow this logic, one would have to advocate separatism. Since the travails of different groups can not be grasped, let alone shared, then... there is no chance of sympathy (feeling sorrow for someone else) or fundamental empathy (the ability to understand someone else).

The accusation of “cultural appropriation” runs along pretty parallel tracks.

It states that groups ought not borrow, exhibit, or adopt cultural signifiers from other groups – for instance haircuts (there was controversy around David Beckham's braids when meeting Nelson Mandela). The USA being what they are, the issue runs wayyy deeper and is at times highly more spectacular: Enter the American Football team called The Redskins. American natives -whose people has been demonised, slaughtered, starved, infected with disease, chased out of its territories and continually downgraded by white invaders/conquerors- have long protested about the appropriation of their appellation and the featuring of a generic American native figure by this sportsteam.

Well, this question can be referred to a few points made above.

It could be argued that we ought to distinguish between paying homage, showing cultural openness, demonstrating curiosity - and exploiting another group for one's own ends.

In the first camp, I personally believe that no matter what your ethnic group is, there is nothing wrong with watching Ozu / Takeshi Kitano / Takashi Miike films; enjoying Thai or Mexican food; listening to rap music; wearing Maori tattoos, etc. This can be done in a respectful or knowing way. ...In fact, I dare say that most white people who sport tattoos of Chinese characters are probably aware of the fact that they are not Chinese themselves.

A commercial venture pretending to be something else clearly belongs to the second camp. As far as I know, that Redskins team has not been created by / is not owned by / does not only features American natives. ((possible reference to the Celtic Football Club at this point)) Question: does it represent the interests of American natives? Does it redistribute its profits to that group? If this is not the case, then there is a clear problem of deliberate confusion, not to say hipocrisy.

To be developed (I won't pretend to have thought it all out yet) .

Question of intention – the difference between a documentary and an opinion piece – rich identity vs. one-dimentional characters - is "Cruising" homophobic? - is "The Deer Hunter" racist? - should we censor the n-word in Mark Twain? - who decides? the danger of misconstruing - the difference between feeling offended and being factually, demonstrably persecuted 

Sherlock, or The Revenge on Intelligence

 Sherlock, or The Revenge on Intelligence

A recent article by The Guirdaan claimed that Sherlock is, in fact, the most featured character in history – which came as a bit of a surprise: what, more than Hercules? Jesus? The Devil? Dracula? Robinson? Superman? Emmanuelle? ...Apparently so. The rationale for it being that Sherlock demonstrates what a normal man can achieve through sheer deduction instead of succeeding thanks to (unfair) superpowers – in other words, he is someone we can relate to and, with a tiny amount of stretch, could find ourselves emulating if only we exercised “our little grey cells” (but, oops, that will be Hercules Poirot that is).

I don't buy it.

To start with, the idea that Sherlock is just a normal bloke who simply happens to concentrate every now and then is laughable enough.

I think, in fact, Sherlock embodies a trope that has been presented and recycled in countless stories (point number one); I also propose that his appeal is tainted by an almost unconscious feeling of jealousy and instinct for revenge (point number two).

Point Number One: Sherlock represents pure emotionless, tactless, sociopathic intelligence. He is generally presented as a bit of a loner devoid of tact and good manners. Doesn't that ring a bell? That's right, there are countless other examples of this mind / humanity divide: Spock in 'Star Trek', the obsessive girl scientist in 'Bones', Ozymandias in 'Watchmen', Monk in the wonderful, er, 'Monk'; the Canadian mountie in 'Due South', the autist savant (en-français-dans-le-texte) in the 'Astrid et Raphaelle' French series, 'The Big Bang Theory', 'Fringe', 'DeathNote', 'Eureka', the Terminator, etc. etc. etc. (Feel free to find other examples, I am ready to bet they exist.)

To put it another way; nope, he is not just anyone. Sherlock is extraordinarily gifted. His powers of observation and deduction are a superpower in its own right.

Point Number Two: he therefore needs to be cut down to size. Sherlock needs to atone for his superpower and this is where his other main feature comes into play (reader's voice: “Main feature? What the??”).

Question: does Sherlock Holmes act on his own? Everybody knows this is not the case: Sherlock is counterbalanced by his foil, his sidekick, his partner – Dr. Watson. Now, Dr. Watson is traditionally presented as the reasonable -not to say boring- one. He is the one who keeps Sherlock grounded, handles the dealings with the police, probably takes care of the gas and water bill, pacifies their lodger, and prevents Sherlock from flying off the handle.

By contrast, numerous adaptations (such as the terrific Moffat/Gatliss BBC series or the refreshing Guy Ritchie romps) have made a point of showing Sherlock as an immature “geek”, “nerd” -an “otaku” under any other name. He is messy, self-obsessed, grumpy, and borderline adolescent (remember his going gaga at the sight of miss Adler). Of course, everyone also knows that Sherlock is a junkie.

According to this reading, Dr. Watson is a bit of a father figure or a no-nonsense wife (choose the analogy you prefer), whereas Sherlock is a bit of a weirdo and here is my second point: we are somehow invited to feel socially superior to him. 

Sherlock is a maniac, he only seems to live for his passions (solving riddles or, failing that, practising the violin and playing with chemistry within the confines of his bedroom). He does not care much for wealth or popularity; he is often tortured, lost in his thoughts; he does not have friends apart from Dr. Watson. To all intents and purposes, he is a recluse and a one odd out off the QI scale who finds it impossible to relate to anyone else - apart from Mycroft (whom he may actually be jealous of), the aforementioned miss Adler, and Moriarty. Ask yourself: given the abundance of evidence of mania and eccentricity laid at Sherlock's feet, would you like to live his life...? Just compare-and-contrast his case with James Bond (he who gets the girls and lives the life every time) and there you have it.

And if now expect me to conclude with “elem... etc”, tough luck! Ask for your money back huh.