I am
pleased to realize more and more – and in fact a bit scared as well! – how big
this thing I am doing in my blog has become. I think that the “doctoral thesis”
is a metaphor but a really good one. At least it is as close to the doctoral
thesis I would really have WANTED to write as could be. So, when I am looking
at my blog as one long treatise, the part until the end of my “Tempest” posts
would just be the long part of the thesis where the METHOD is established by experimenting
with the stuff I intend to write about, gathering as much material as possible.
After having done that with unexpected success I feel that I am finally ready
to draw conclusions. I am eager to start, but then I’ll always find some
important material to add. As, in this case, some more about the “bad” stuff.
I
already collected a lot of material on the bad stuff, doing “tests” on
“Hannibal”, investigating these fundamental concepts of reading - like
“ethics”, “art”, “beauty” and so on - IN THE FORM they actually appear in
“live” reading. In this context the meaning of “playing” became fully
established because I never before realized how important it is for
understanding certain texts that are the result of DELIBERATELY PLAYING with the
(bad) stuff by many people - writers, directors, actors, camera people,
composers, and concept artists, providing what we see on screen - that “we”
rise to the challenge and begin to play with it as well. If we don’t we won’t
see more than a fraction of what they have done, and MAKING MORE of the text in
this way is even how we finally make it “come together”, make it ultimately
beautiful and enjoyable. In this context the concept of PARTICIPATING was fully
established as the second key concept apart from PLAYING.
In this
description "participating" figured as the highest form of playing, being the
most active and personal form reading can take. And, consequently, as the
highest form of aesthetic activity. But playing, and some form of aesthetic
activity, is probably involved in every act of reading fiction. I even think
that reading fiction is defined by this act. If we don’t find any form of
playing suitable for the text we’ll probably stop reading. This experience can
as well take a number of different forms, as when we are unwilling to play with
the stuff the text provides and find it “boring”, “stupid”, or “trivial”. Or
when we feel that the text is shutting us out, being too difficult for us to
understand the rules of the game. Or, of course, when we don’t like the stuff
we are supposed to play with. Or the way it is written, or filmed, or acted …
There are probably a lot more options than this of thwarted playing, but there
are lots and lots more, I am sure, of playing successfully. Ideally, there is probably
even one for every successful encounter any given reader has had with a text. But
of course there are often the same kinds of activities involved which can be
described. Thinking and writing about these things has made me aware that there
is a DESCRIPTION of what I have been doing represented in my mind when I have
seen a film, or a play, or read a book. And, comparing these, I have found that
the kind of texts dealing with the bad stuff often have left a much more
interesting and vivid description.
The
rather surprising experience about horror on screen, especially since
“Hannibal”, is that it became associated with HAPPINESS. I never had this
experience before about horror films, except once. That was of course the
reason why I was skeptical about buying the series. I didn’t expect in the
least that I would enjoy it. The first “genuine” horror film I saw in the
cinema was in fact “The Silence of the Lambs” and, for some reason, I still
think of it as an important film. There must have been something in it that had
a great impact on me, though it is too long ago now to say what it was. It
might have been that this sort of thing was rather new at the time. I remember
as well that I was LOOKING all the time watching it, even though I would
probably have liked to look away – which is what I do nowadays when I expect
something disagreeable to happen. I certainly didn’t enjoy the experience, but
I think that I was really scared only once because the scene in the lift is the
only scene I actually remember. What I remember more distinctly is the
aftermath – when I was scared to walk the long corridor in my shared flat,
passing the two permanently empty rooms there, for some time. I think it was
then that I decided that horror wasn’t for me, as I didn’t enjoy it that much anyway.
And I broke this rule only once later, as far as I remember, and regretted it.
So, I wouldn’t have expected to watch horror again, let alone to genuinely
enjoy it.
But then
there was “The Shining”. I bought it, probably six to ten years ago, to have
something to watch on Halloween. Somehow I got it into my head that I should
watch a horror film at least once a year on Halloween – and I picked the right
one. Since then I have watched “The Shining” religiously every year – except
last year when I was tied up in “Hannibal” - as faithfully as I watch “Love
Actually” every year on Christmas Eve, enjoying it more every time. I think I
enjoyed “The Shining” from the beginning, and there was as well only one scene
that scared me, which isn’t a problem anymore because I know exactly when to
look away. As usual it wasn’t the horror I enjoyed. I don’t even think I was
genuinely interested in the story, and I still find Jack Nicholson rather more
weird than scary in this role, but the way the story is told, especially the
atmosphere of “mystic” naturalism, totally “got” me. And the feeling of
anticipation created by this atmosphere would have been pointless without the
horror that is anticipated. I still don’t think that I enjoy the impact of the
horror on me – it still doesn’t really “work” on me as it must on somebody who
genuinely enjoys horror. What I enjoy is the playing with it because it is
something especially nasty to play with. And to do this I endure the impact it
has on me. Which doesn’t mean that I am actively looking for horror to produce
this effect. But, after “The Shining” and, of course, after “Hannibal”, I can
be persuaded to see a horror film when there is reason to expect that it has
other interesting features.
In fact,
I have three totally different experiences to relate about watching horror this
year. And this was the point of writing a post about it because, as they are
recent experiences, I still have this “description” I mentioned above about
what happened when I was watching. The most recent, and least interesting, was
about “It”. I read the book ages ago, and, even though it was a scary and
nauseating experience, I remembered it as an interesting story. And, from what
I read, the film was not just “about” horror but more about what happens to
these youngsters, which was true. So I was right to see it and enjoyed seeing
it even though I was looking away like what feels now about half the time. There
are two interesting aspects to set down about this experience. The first that
it definitely still isn’t ABOUT horror for me in the least. I knew this by the
way I put the memory of it away CONSCIOUSLY AND COMPLETELY. Obviously, unlike
when I was younger, I am able to do this now. Shut these things out. But the
reason I DIDN’T REGRET doing it in this case is not to be found in the horror
itself but in the playing with it. Even though I quite enjoyed the film in the
cinema, knowing exactly when to look away anyway, IN THE AFTERMATH I was
slightly disappointed about the naïve way the story was told. What I remember
from reading Steven King – and it was probably NOT a coincidence that I stopped
reading his books after “It”! – the world definitely isn’t a better place when
“we” are through with the book - quite the contrary! Our view on the world, for
some time, ISN’T THE SAME as it was before, and, even though I didn’t really
enjoy this experience, I obviously appreciated it. As this wasn’t the case in
the film, in the long run I will probably put it away as irrelevant. I
certainly won’t buy the dvd, and I probably won’t watch the sequel.
The most
beautiful film I saw this year was “Get Out” (at least of what came AFTER the
Oscars!) – which is supposed to be a horror film. In this case I genuinely
enjoyed watching it, and there was no need of looking away because there is
just a bit of splatter at the end which was to be expected. Apart from this it
is just a beautiful film with a formidable sound track, and of course I
appreciated the irony as I always do. I think you cannot make a “real” horror
film using irony as it is the best way to “sabotage” the endeavour of making us
scared, as well as everything that is too “heavy” to bear and threatens to get
us down, especially stupidity. So, this was a successful attempt of dealing
with the fear and the bad stuff, and I already bought it on dvd and am looking
forward to seeing it again on Halloween. (As I am planning to finally buy “Red
Dragon” with Ralph Fiennes there will probably be a triple feature …)
And it
is a good background for bringing out the most important experience I wanted to
write about which was about seeing “Mother!” As I wrote, I genuinely enjoyed
“Get Out” from the beginning, as much as I was uncomfortable seeing “Mother!”
from the beginning – which is NOT supposed to be a horror film. It probably
isn’t, as there wasn’t really a reason for looking away as well. But I was
uncomfortable THE WHOLE TIME I sat in the cinema watching it, and I HATED it
from about twenty minutes into watching the film until about five minutes
before the ending. Actually it was one of the very few times I seriously
considered leaving the cinema because I thought I couldn’t tolerate Jennifer
Lawrence’s stupid face for another minute. I probably hated this house from the
moment she got out of that bed and stepped into that empty corridor, I hated the
stupid face and I hated the “emptiness” of Xavier Bardem. (He actually is one
of the actors I appreciate because he is so successful at keeping “us” at a
distance, but everything can be taken a step too far …) And of course I hated
these people coming in and doing disgusting things, I hate things getting
broken for no good reason anyway, and of course it got worse … And still I kept
watching, and still I didn’t slip away just waiting for the end, and I don’t
know why. But about five minutes before the film was over I suddenly knew.
Suddenly EVERYTHING fell into place. I don’t know Jennifer Lawrence well enough
to tell if the stupid face actually was acting or “nature”, and it doesn’t
matter because it was exactly the right face. Everything was exactly right, and
every nasty piece of bad stuff just got fused and “elevated” into this BIG
metaphor. It even became one of the most beautiful metaphors I have ever seen
because it was SO ALIVE. - I remember thinking of the “Red Dragon” part in “Hannibal”
in terms of beauty finally coming into its own because it was not about
physical beauty anymore but, somehow, about being so alive. And “Mother!”,
though I enjoyed it much less, was to carry this experience even one step
further. There was a lot “in me” that enjoyed the stuff they were playing with
creating the Red Dragon. In “Mother!” the only thing I enjoyed was the sudden
and complete TRANSFORMATION of the bad stuff into a metaphor. But THIS I
enjoyed so thoroughly that it made me feel happy and “complete” for about a
week. (“Whole as the marble, founded as the rock …”) And it definitely became a
layer of the “residue” of happiness lining my life right now. The aesthetic
“immunity” I expect to see me through the winter …
It is
certainly an interesting experience about what can happen when “we” are watching
horror. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t horror, but the discomfort was even
greater in this case because I couldn’t “block” it, as I have learned to do
with horror, by not taking it seriously. And the discomfort and nauseating
effect was just the same, even worse probably, because it felt more real than
“proper” horror. The way I remember watching it, enduring it without resisting
anything that was happening, without “fighting” it in the least, lead to a
theory about what I think happened. For some reason, I gave the text complete
leave to work on me as it was supposed to. To “draw out” the “bad stuff” in me
completely and play with it. And this obviously was the ultimately “purifying”
experience, the ultimate thing a text could do to me – though only after THE
POINT of doing this got explained to me about five minutes before the film was
over. And, for some reason, the bad stuff appears to be just the thing to do
that.
Of
course, this - like “Hannibal” - is rather “extreme” reading. The thought just
struck me that, as to the purifying effect, reading horror might in fact be the
contemporary activity “we” have put in the place of reading tragedy
because we don’t believe in the transcendental rubbish anymore. But this is
still a wild guess. On the other hand, just thinking about what I have actually
DONE in this blog, it appears to me that the “bad stuff” must be a good way
into what reading is on its deepest level, which I think I have been aiming for
from the start. The question “Why do we read?” is still very far away at the end
of the tunnel, but it appears to be the question that I am headed for. And,
when I am thinking about what I did in this blog up to this point, it is mostly
about the stuff that was difficult, or painful, or scary. What really started
it was “Shakespeare”, and I don’t think I neglected “Shakespeare” for such a
long time because I thought that it was boring, or irrelevant, or that I was
“through” with it. I rather didn’t think I was up for it, I didn’t really
BELIEVE that I’d ever be able to read it. Because, if I did, it would have to
be special. And then I was too SCARED to actually start on one of the plays and
had a go at the sonnets instead – lunatic! I think now I got myself started by
shock treatment … (though I knew I have always been rather successful with
poetry when I finally kicked myself and went about it.)
And I
HAD to write about “The Crucible” and “Hannibal” because there was something
about the experience that bothered me A LOT. And, somehow, I have learned to
take this as an indication for the QUALITY of a text. I just remember taking up
“Pride and Prejudice” again after having read “Longbourn”, which was
interesting reading but felt kind of stupid at the same time. And I was so
pleased how the experience obviously had given depth to the original text
because I was able to see even more clearly how clever and genuinely “bad”
Austen is. And there are lots of texts I enjoyed that never got into the blog. In
fact, I haven’t really written about “Doctor Who”, or even “House of Cards”.
Or, after my nephew finally convinced me to watch “Harry Potter”, I am just
blown away how good these films are – both the writing and the incredible cast
that is almost a “Who is who?” of the greatest British actors living or,
regrettably, recently deceased. (Either way immortal: Imelda Staunton – in
shocking pink! – turning Hogwarts into horror, David Bradley making an icon of
Argus Filch, and of course Alan Rickman as the “darkest” wizard ever – legend!!!
And my intention of writing only good things about Ralph Fiennes is easy to put
into practice. WHO ELSE but him should be the “dark lord”, as he has obviously
become THE specialist for the bad stuff? But what I liked most is that, though
we don’t see Voldemort do anything but wicked and cruel things, the human
content “shines” through the character from the beginning. He is as “equivocal”
a villain as Richard III – the kind that has been created from torture and
pride. To achieve this with so little to go on with is just amazing. And after
they got Michael Gambon to play Dumbledore that part of the story began to work
as well. AND SO ON …) Obviously I was more than pleased, but I probably won’t
write anything about it apart from silly praise. About what I just enjoy there
isn’t that much to write. It is certainly an important part of reading –
probably the most frequent, and one that is usually present in every instance
of successful reading. What happened with “Mother!” is rather the great
exception. I am still kind of unsettled that it actually WORKED. Dealing
EXCLUSIVELY with the bad stuff. And there is certainly still a lot of avoiding
the bad stuff on my part which, I think, mostly comes into selecting what I am
going to watch or read. And occasionally it takes me by surprise in a way that
I don’t appreciate – even though I know that I should – because it is probably
MY OWN bad stuff. As when I watched “Desperate Romantics” – which was REALLY
GOOD, by the way, though quite unsettling. I endured it until the end because I
wanted to know what the ending would be but am still sorry that I didn’t bring
myself to watch it a second time. Maybe I’ll come round and buy it someday …
So, from
what I did in my blog so far, I know that the Big Question about the nature of
fiction, and reading, is, in my experience, intimately connected with the “bad
stuff”, though I haven’t completely figured out why. In any case, it appears to
make a NECESSARY connection between me and the text. Not what I might want to
watch or read, not even what I enjoy, but what I really NEED to watch or read. Even
what it takes to make me GENUINELY happy, makes me connect with myself on the
deepest level. And, though I haven’t quite figured out how this is supposed to work,
I already consider this insight as the biggest step towards answering the Big
Question so far.
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