The way
I closed my last post made me aware of a fundamental issue about reading and
ethics. And this is kind of what happened all the time when I was reading
“Hannibal”. It is documented in my blog, for example by how swiftly and
“painlessly” I arrived at fundamental philosophical concepts I am usually reluctant
to touch, like “art” or “the absolute”. I am usually not even interested in
these “empty” abstracts, but here I became aware that they can become powerful
“playthings” when the context is right. They definitely enhanced the joy of
playing towards the sublime. Playing with ethical concerns and reactions made
me aware that “we” actually have made progress in this area THROUGH art if we
“play it right”. That means, if we don’t leave ethics in the cloakroom on the
one hand, and, on the other, don’t close the theatres – as the London Puritans
wanted to – or - as we have every right to do! - reject a work of art on
ethical grounds. I think it is about what Schiller really meant by playing
somehow “enhancing” our humanity because we arrive at these issues easier and
more painlessly when we are playing with them.
Reading
Schiller’s treatise – even though I enjoyed it much more than I would have
thought -
was
difficult, and kind of painful because – as always when I am reading a
philosophical text - I experienced my inability to penetrate it towards its
full meaning. It is the “nature” of philosophy that it claims to be logic
rather than entertainment which dares me to FULLY understand what it is about, even
though I know this to be impossible because nobody ever has. Nonetheless I always
have this feeling that I am loosing which I have to overcome all the time.
Whereas, playing with a work of art, I have usually this feeling that I am
winning when it suddenly surprises me with beauty and meaning. I get the
impression that I am not some inferior mind grappling with absolutes which I
have no say in but that I am TAKEN SERIOUSLY as an equal PARTNER in the debate.
And this feeling – that I decide if I WANT to get involved with something, or
want to reject something on ethical grounds, or want to be disgusted or not –
has never been so strong as when I was reading “Hannibal”. Whatever the
reasons, I have never had the feeling of being taken seriously AS THE PERSON I
AM in this way – and this is basically why I swallowed all the bullshit, and
everything that may be disgusting and ethically debatable so easily. And why I
got so much closer to MY OWN ethical principles than I could in an abstract
discussion about them. Because the kind of truth that is so important to me, and
which I am obviously looking for in fiction, is PERSONAL, not categorical.
It is as
well the only kind of truth I am still interested in, and this hasn’t always
been like that. I noticed recently, on the occasion of the election of Donald
Trump, that I have become allergic to the usual kind of statements that I
ALREADY KNEW would automatically be issued at the event. I actually had to SHUT
DOWN everything that was related to it because I thought: all this is BESIDE
THE POINT. It may all be reasonable, or make sense, for all I care, but it is
NOT an adequate reaction to this kind of egregious NONSENSE actually happening …
I couldn’t find any words, and, at some point, I thought: if nobody can say
anything about this that makes me laugh I’ll scream!!! Because I AM laughing! I
don’t feel it, and I don’t hear it, but it is the only thing I could imagine to
do to somehow MEASURE this kind of … impertinence. Laughing out loud for about
three minutes … I couldn’t do it, but somehow it helped to imagine it, I guess.
(And I am afraid Trump has been the reason that I am currently finding the
fourth season of “House of Cards” a bit weak – if I am quite honest about it.
Probably just bad timing ….)
So, by
this “tour de force” I have finally arrived at another fundamental category of
reading: HUMOUR. It is something that is extremely important for me – “in”
people as well as in fiction – and which makes me almost automatically appreciate
texts. I especially noticed this reviewing this year’s outcome of US cinema
productions I have seen and not liked, compared with what I liked last year (“Steve
Jobs”, “The Big Short”, and “Hail Cesar!” …) and the conclusion is obvious …
(This year I wouldn’t even have laughed ONCE in a Woody Allen film (“Café
Society”) if there hadn’t been ONE British actor (Ken Stott) who tapped the
full potential of his character in this respect. Pity, now I’ll HAVE to buy the
dvd just because of him …)
In “Hannibal”
humour was an issue already BEFORE I really “got” the story, or even before I began
to analyze the characters. But it was even more “hidden” than ethics. Whereas
the pertinent question: Why (the hell) am I enjoying this so much? definitely
had an ethical dimension to it, I couldn’t CONSCIOUSLY detect ANY humour
whatsoever running through the third season. Whereas, watching the whole series
in a row just recently, I found that especially the first half of season three
has quite a different feeling to it because it kind of ravels in the absurdity
and irony of the situation all the time. And this is a kind of humour I find
especially gratifying. I couldn’t see this “colour” before because I didn’t yet
know what the irony referred to. And, as I think as well, because, watching
season one and two, I got used to an ENTIRELY NEW DIMENSION of humour.
Being so
fond of humour, even kind of desperately looking for it all the time, I
should be fond of comedy, but I am not. Of course I enjoy it like the next
person when it is good, but I am not actively seeking the experience. For some
reason I consider it a waste of time to bother with it, though I know I might
miss a lot of great reading-experience – especially actually laughing out loud
from time to time. Just now I got involved with “Doctor Who” – which I never
really watched before and which I just discovered this year because of John Simm
playing “the master” in season four. Now I have finally bought season one, and was
pissed off that season two wasn’t available at the shops so that I couldn’t get
it in time for the Christmas holidays. Maybe the main reason for getting hooked
on it is that I have got nothing “really great” to watch, but I definitely
enjoy it. And I wouldn’t enjoy it like this just because of the genuinely funny
dialogue, or even very “special” actors – like John Simm - playing these kind
of little “vignettes” of characters in just one episode, which is something I
love, of course. I think what I find so entertaining are all these totally
crazy stories, and people reacting to these crazy events “believably” - as they
would to something that might actually happen in real life.
And I
think this is the “funny” variation of the kind of humour which I detected in
“Hannibal”. It is already something rather complex compared to the superficial
punch-lines of “typical” comedy – literally NOT being displayed ON THE SURFACE.
Though in “Doctor Who” it is definitely INTENDED to be funny. Running through
the third season of “Hannibal” for the first time I couldn’t detect anything
funny at all, but I became aware of myself kind of scoffing silently all the
time at the “bullshit”, probably thinking: “I cannot believe this - you are
having me on! But I kind of like it …” The humour became more obvious when I
started to watch season one – with such questionable “highlights” as the social
worker sewn into a horse, or, getting into season two, Bedelia Du Maurier
actually killing a patient by ramming her whole arm down his throat. Can you
believe it …??? It is the same KIND of humour as in “Doctor Who”, I think,
playing with our sense of the ABSURD. And it is definitely a step beyond
“Doctor Who” because, if we don’t find it funny, we haven’t understood what is
happening, whereas in “Hannibal” we definitely have a CHOICE. We choose if we
still perceive this as humour or JUST as absurd. It is kind of about HOW MUCH
we like absurd. And I have often noticed, whereas, like comedies, I don’t like
absurd texts as such, I definitely like the absurd as a principle to break up
the rationale of a “non-absurd” text. And it almost always makes me laugh …
Well, I
still wasn’t laughing. I think I laughed about the social worker inside the
horse – probably for the first time – but I was still basically scoffing. And
scoffing is definitely less “accepting” than laughing. I wasn’t SURE if there
was anything funny, or anything I SHOULD be laughing at. But I could SEE the
humour of Hannibal LITERALLY opening Will Graham’s skull. I am not usually
someone who laughs at seeing horrible things happen to people ALOUD. I think
there actually IS an ethical concern here: that I don’ think it is right to
display this kind of behaviour. But I DEFINITELY scoffed …
The last
example is already of the kind which transcends humour because there is nothing
the least bit funny about it – not even absurdly funny. (Though other people
might see this differently!) It is a form of humour reduced to the
bone-structure which I usually call “IRONY”, and which is probably my favourite
“form” of fiction. But it is such a “wide” concept that it can become almost
meaningless when it is not filled with “matter”, and I realized that I became
confused about categorizing humour at this point – not without cause! I still
feel that I am operating ”inside” the domain of humour because I am still
scoffing in a way that implies acceptance. And because I still detect this
“comic” STRUCTURE which might even be above - or beneath? - irony …
I almost
cannot believe this: like in those other cases I mentioned in the beginning of
this post, analyzing my reading has brought me to the deepest and most abstract
level of what humour and irony are about, but I definitely should approach this
slowly, not least because it took me a long time to get there. The first time
when I noticed irony at all was when Hannibal is talking about “participation”.
And then it wasn’t “about” the irony but about the concept of participation
which caught my interest. It was the “meaning” of the situation I noticed
first, afterwards I detected the long “strand” of irony leading into this
situation. But I don’t think “participation” would have caught my interest in
this way if it hadn’t been for the irony. I think I DETECTED “participation”
through scoffing. And I probably wouldn’t have taken what Hannibal says
SERIOUSLY without the scoffing. I was very reluctant at this point to take
ANYTHING Hannibal says seriously. So “participation” being highlighted
ironically – not by Hannibal who is serious about it!, but through the
situation that led to it - somehow came to unfold its full meaning BEYOND what
Hannibal is trying to say.
Now that
has again become too philosophical too fast – which I kind of like because it
proves my theory about “Hannibal” time and again. It is somehow the
natural way my thoughts go, thinking about it. But I must try at least to fill
the theory with “matter”. I’ll try an example – though this might make it still
more confusing. I recently carried out one of my “new-years-resolutions” by
seeing a Woody Allen film once a year. And even though I found “Café Society”
boring and disagreeable I still think that I should do it. I think they are
kind of my personal “memento mori”: Don’t waste your time before it begins to
waste you … But, of course, there are better films by Woody Allen which are not
boring. For example “Blue Jasmine”. That’s definitely my favourite, and it
might be a typical choice for somebody who doesn’t really like them. Because it
is the least “typical” of his films I know. Nonetheless it is PURE Woody Allen
WITHOUT the humour. In a way, even though I don’t like them, his films are kind
of my ideal of a comedy because they transcend the humour towards the “real”
horror it refers to. And in “Blue Jasmine” there is no humour anymore, no
comedy at all, there is JUST the horror. But there is still this structure of
the “vortex” which is unique and therefore can be identified as “Woody Allen”,
and which IS, I think, basically a tragic structure.
And, like
kind of laying bare the “bone structure” of reality UNDERNEATH our illusions in
“Blue Jasmine”, most of the “humour”, or irony, in “Hannibal” might be about
REVEALING as well. I have often noticed that people who are good at irony can
get their point across much faster and more precisely than by unfolding the
matter in so many words. (There are a lot of possibilities more socially
acceptable and even more efficient to say “fuck off” than to actually say it …)
And when I watched “Hannibal” for the last time I suddenly hit on irony all the
time. At some point during the reading I must have got the hang of it … It
isn’t the kind of irony “we” are laughing about. At least I don’t. It might not
even be irony because there is barely a trace left “on the surface”. It is just
this flash of light that reveals the MEANING “behind” a situation, a
relationship, or some part of the bullshit somebody is producing. I even ended
up just now with the possibility of seeing the structure of the whole story as
ironic. Bullshit becoming method because we are actually CAUGHT in it. We’ll
never get rid of it in THIS life, try as we might …
Though
this might be taking it too far – literally: too far away from the READING.
Anyway, it is the kind of “humour” I like best – reduced to its bare structure
almost without any trace of humour about it. The kind that actually is epistemological.
And, even when there is very seldom an “end-product” – some kind of knowledge
I can lay a finger on – it is still a VEHICLE for MEANING, one of the most
powerful we possess. Like a lot of things in “Hannibal” this was more about the
joy of BEING ABLE to ride it than about actually getting anywhere. And, what I
think is even more important to state here than before is that this is not a
categorical statement about a text, it is about WHAT I READ. I have never
become so much aware of how far this distinction is from being TRIVIAL. Because
if somebody rejects “Hannibal” on the grounds that it is “just” about killing
and cannibalism, and that it is an absurd and despicable attitude to enjoy
reading or showing disgusting atrocities like this so much, or even that it is
just a load of bullshit, they are probably RIGHT because it is WHAT THEY READ.
And there probably is a multitude of “better” reasons than mine for what they
read … This whole experience, and even the beautiful loneliness of it, which I
enjoyed and which scared me at the same time, was probably about discovering MY
OWN WORLD in a new way. I WANTED to be surprised, and I wanted to be surprised
about this person that was reading. I still don’t know if I know her … But I
definitely liked her! And I still don’t know if I like the conclusion, but she
might very much BE the person I AM.
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