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Mon coeur reste toujours le meme
Apr. 29th, 2012 02:34 am
Currently at Toronto Pearson: 1. High today: 9. A weird small bubble of dry air is on its way out of Toronto--dewpoints at Pearson since 7 p.m.: -5, -10, -15, -14, -14, -10, -9, -8. At Buttonville it's gone from -9 to -16 and back up to -7. At the island, it's gone from -1 to -18 and back up to -8. Downtown: -3 to -17 to -7. As a weather event, this has about as high a ratio as you can get of being unusual to being something that people would notice or care about.
I dug up half the front lawn today, and planted St. John's wort, lavender, hens and chicks, sweet William, a globeflower, and a tray full of pansies. I'm guessing Jo(e) won't eat the lavender, at least. I wonder how s/he might like the St. John's wort.
Last night we watched Wings of Desire for the first time in nearly twelve years. It's kind of hard for me to fathom that--ever since I first saw Wings of Desire sometime in the early '90s, it's been a film I would list as one of my favourites. The scene with Peter Falk talking to Damiel at the coffee stand is one of my most important touchstones in any film ... in any thing. I probably watched it half a dozen times through the '90s to the last time, in 2000, but then somehow never watched it again until last night. It was surprising how unfamiliar some parts of it were, though many are deeply drilled into my brain. (Two images of people going around in circles: the Crime and the City Solution guitarist; Damiel at the abandoned circus ring.) But two things were really shocking. The first was how much the film rings of Walter Benjamin. The last time I saw it, I would've just finished reading Benjamin for the first time, and in particular the two pieces that Wings of Desire rings of, "The Storyteller" and the bit on Klee's "Angelus Novus" in "Theses on the Philosophy of History". But I don't recall noticing any of that at the time--or that the first words spoken by the first female voice murmuring in the library scene are "Walter Benjamin". (The murmuring in the library isn't subtitled; this (large PDF) article notes that she goes on to say something about "Angelus Novus".) The second was the echoes of this film in films by Kubrick and Malick. The library scene to me last night was jarringly like the ritual-orgy scenes in Eyes Wide Shut, as if those scenes in Eyes Wide Shut were a negative of that scene in Wings of Desire. I don't mean just thematically; the way an angel stands on a balcony and nods in acknowledgement seems echoed by the tricornered-masked man nodding from the balcony in Eyes Wide Shut. And of course there is a broader thematic echo between those two films than just that scene--they both centrally involve the main character attempting to "take the plunge" into embodied life--and there are broader visual echoes as well, sweeping tracking shots and glowing lights. As for Malick, again, there are broad thematic echoes concerning what you might call theodicy, and there are also particular visual echoes--a shot of the sky looking up through trees, a flock of starlings.
I think the strangest thing of all is how much I loved Wings of Desire but never "thought about" it, despite its open invitation to be "thought about" (among other things). I think I might still like to save "thinking about" it for later.
I dug up half the front lawn today, and planted St. John's wort, lavender, hens and chicks, sweet William, a globeflower, and a tray full of pansies. I'm guessing Jo(e) won't eat the lavender, at least. I wonder how s/he might like the St. John's wort.
Last night we watched Wings of Desire for the first time in nearly twelve years. It's kind of hard for me to fathom that--ever since I first saw Wings of Desire sometime in the early '90s, it's been a film I would list as one of my favourites. The scene with Peter Falk talking to Damiel at the coffee stand is one of my most important touchstones in any film ... in any thing. I probably watched it half a dozen times through the '90s to the last time, in 2000, but then somehow never watched it again until last night. It was surprising how unfamiliar some parts of it were, though many are deeply drilled into my brain. (Two images of people going around in circles: the Crime and the City Solution guitarist; Damiel at the abandoned circus ring.) But two things were really shocking. The first was how much the film rings of Walter Benjamin. The last time I saw it, I would've just finished reading Benjamin for the first time, and in particular the two pieces that Wings of Desire rings of, "The Storyteller" and the bit on Klee's "Angelus Novus" in "Theses on the Philosophy of History". But I don't recall noticing any of that at the time--or that the first words spoken by the first female voice murmuring in the library scene are "Walter Benjamin". (The murmuring in the library isn't subtitled; this (large PDF) article notes that she goes on to say something about "Angelus Novus".) The second was the echoes of this film in films by Kubrick and Malick. The library scene to me last night was jarringly like the ritual-orgy scenes in Eyes Wide Shut, as if those scenes in Eyes Wide Shut were a negative of that scene in Wings of Desire. I don't mean just thematically; the way an angel stands on a balcony and nods in acknowledgement seems echoed by the tricornered-masked man nodding from the balcony in Eyes Wide Shut. And of course there is a broader thematic echo between those two films than just that scene--they both centrally involve the main character attempting to "take the plunge" into embodied life--and there are broader visual echoes as well, sweeping tracking shots and glowing lights. As for Malick, again, there are broad thematic echoes concerning what you might call theodicy, and there are also particular visual echoes--a shot of the sky looking up through trees, a flock of starlings.
I think the strangest thing of all is how much I loved Wings of Desire but never "thought about" it, despite its open invitation to be "thought about" (among other things). I think I might still like to save "thinking about" it for later.
