Citizen Kane

Have you ever wondered why is Orson Welles' "Citizen Kane" so important a movie? Why is it deemed one of the most important movies ever made even decades later when we've supposedly had all the Hollywood's best? Well, I think I am coming to understand the fact, simple as that. It IS a masterpiece in various aspects, and Welles, though being then only twenty-five years old, knew what he was doing. The movie is telltale on its philosophical level and at the same time it seems to feature all of the cinema's best if we consider the camerawork and impeccable editing throughout it.

"Citizen Kane" as a story is an account of a life of a successful man, but shows the impossibility to depict a man from his deeds and inability to tell if he really was who he appeared to be.

Charles Foster Kane, abandoned as a child, inherits a literal empire allowing him to manipulate and control Americans. Inexorably, he became a very wealthy man and in spite of it he lacked emotional security, which plausibly led him to a death in oblivion. Kane represents exactly anti-Aristotelian style of life and refutes the "know thyself" maxim. He is presented in the picture by various acquaintances of his, each of them presenting him from a different point of view, and each of them trying to analyze him in the prism of his deathbed word, which was "rosebud." Needless to say, it is virtually impossible to be sure what he could really have meant. Such situations happen in lives and another good example of it is Nietzsche, who left, among a heap of other notes on his desk, a piece of paper with strange inscription "I forgot my umbrella."

The impossibility to understand "rosebud" and "I forgot my umbrella" lies in Derridean philosophy, the linguistic trap we are in. I don't need to say, that it was impossible for Nietzsche to write such sentence while walking in the rain, as this would make no sense then. It as well not possible for Kane to say "rosebud" hoping that somebody would be able to understand his predicament. Both man lacked something in life, and it surely wasn't wealth. "Citizen Kane" reveals the bleakness of so-called American Dream and sows futility of our attempts to be happy. Kane's attempts to secure himself happiness were useless, his marvelous vast possession only made him alone and empty. Wealth he possessed could only make him dearest as pitiful as himself.

So what?

It is time to know what you need in life. Pose a question and try to answer it best you can. What is it that you yearn for?

Sik!

Now the shit has hit the fan. I am sick today and that's because of my inability to assess the weather by looking out of my room's window. Sore throat and stuff in my nose aren't the best things that could happen to me, given that I will have to continue working, giving classes and walking around the city for various reasons. Anyway, what I must recommend here Is a warm cup of milk with garlic to soothe the throat and fight the illness. I shall let know if it worked. At least in olfactory sense it did and I can tell it.

Hope I will still be able to write.

Pynchonesque

I have always regretted not heaving read "The Crying of Lot 49" during my studies so now, I thought, came the time to face it. Well, if I DON'T now, then when? My first reading a few years ago ended up reluctantly putting it back on the bookshelf. Well, a little bit of determination could make it.

Thomas Pynchon appears to be the "must read" of twentieth century, and there is much truth in it. He himself is an interesting figure in literature, a typical kind of a "nocturnal" writer who usually starts his day at 1PM and keeps on working until late at night. He might appear a unique man considering the fact that he used to read physics and math books just for... ehemmm... fun. His prose is fulfilled with postmodern ideas that are, in my humble opinion, so apparent at times, that it must be a parody of some sort...

Pynchon, quite apparenly, also suffered from an obsessive fear of revealing his actual image (this being rendered in one of the Simpsons' series) to such an extent that he even once literally "escaped through his rear window" when a journalist came to his house to make an interview. The author himself justified this little accident by admitting that his front teeth make him look like Bugs Bunny. Whoah. So far, so good. The world has left with merely 2 or three real photos of the author, one of them showing his young face dating back, presumably, to his school years.

He has even been suspected of being the infamous terrorist called the "Unabomber," who scared people around the States. Anyway, the reference is here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unabomber. What I think, is that it could just fortify Pynchon's fear of ubiquitous conspiracy, apparent in his writing. To say the least, he was a major influence for Don DeLillo, the author of conspiracy books (JFK assassination story among others.)

Anyway... I wholeheartedly recommend reading of the "Crying of Lot 49" as it is an intellectual piece of writing, and, you could actually get through it during one evening. It's very complex postmodern book, and it's so postmodern that some people might deem it ironic parody. This is all about filling your life with sense. Oedipa Maas (my ass?) has been chosen by her long-lost lover named Pierce Inverarity to execute his will. In the course of the plot Oedipa happens to discover a mystery concerning a clandestine organization called Trystero. Anyway, the plot is not THAT important. The most important things consist in details. The interpretation of the characters' names seems to be the key to understand the novel - Pierce Inverarity might be interpreted as an element who insisted on Oedipa to find sense to her life but actually he decided to "pierce in verarity" , not to reveal truth about himself (the name has been quite wrongly interpreted by sparknotes.com as pierce in variety). Oedipa, on the other hand bears resemblance to her prototypical and mythological Oedipus - which shows WHY she is not able and not even supposed to know the truth about her existence. Oedipa's husbands radio station's name is KCUF, which quite obviously could be read the othey way round. His name is Mucho, but his surname is Maas (much more?). There are several interpretations and I don't feel like providing anyone with my favourite. Maas could as well be interpreted as wrongly spelled 'mass' which would be another reason to read it as 'something that is inert and unable to interact with environment.'

She is living in an illogical, chaotic world where coincidence and inability to communicate is the only thing able to produce actual new entities. For that matter, we have to consider her futile travels around the coast and several situations where for instance a spray can starts propelling around the toilet. She is not able to see her image in the mirror as well.

The Pynchonian world is surreal and indefinable. But, hey, that's what I like about it.

Mike

Well, I actually "saw" it...

Being a huge movie fan, I have done all my best NOT to see the movie "Saw" as long as it was possible. However, I did decide to watch it.

Macdonaldization of the movie industry seems ubiquitous and it has reached most of movie genres by now, including horrors and thrillers that have always been a kind of special niche for me. In a nutshell, the difference between "Saw" and, say, Kubrick's marvellous "The Shining" (or, precisely to Fincher's "Se7en" and "Cube") might be rendered by the comparing a cheeseburger and caviar. Well, almost everybody likes cheseburgers but it's caviar that makes you eat slowly and carefully, enjoying every bit of it and feeling the unique taste.

Needless to say, the authors of the "Saw" have defecated three episodes of the movie so far. I have seen all of them out of pure unrestrained curiosity and what I got was the feeling that I want at least three hours of my life back.

As long as the first part was quite original and interesting, it was amazing to see how poor were the two sequels. The movie gives an impression of overt impossibility or lack of plausibility of events, but this is maybe only my impression. Let's leave aside the old "puzzle" man barely able to move his legs and imagine how he managed to create all his universe of intricate machines and complex traps. Well? Oh well, whatever. It's just a movie, right?

But another thing is, that people who liked "Cube" and "Seven" will be able to see the similarities and thus lack of originality in "Saw". The puzzles of a maniac in "Seven" were quite plausible and the movie was gripping to the very end, whereas in "Saw" the reality is stretched to fit the puzzles, which, since you happen to notice it, is unbearable throughout the whole movie. The sequels, given their MTV-like editing and retrospective scenes (for the dummies or what?) is almost a self-parody.

I am afraid they're going to shoot part four, goddamnit. Why can't people do good movies anymore instead of producing crap like this forever?

Why not have a blog?

Well... Let's just not take it too seriously. Having been troubled by sleeplessnes for about four years I decided that writing something at night could just partially compensate for the useless time spent tossing around in bed. To tell you the truth, it's not mere sleeplessness. Actually, I love sleeping as much as anyone else. The snag is that sleeping does me best in the middle of the day. At night I am usually overwhelmed by ideas and it's the best possible way to use it. I don't need a therapist in a grey sweater, I just want to organize thoughts a little bit.