Endgame Payout

They wandered, blind, through the streets...

My eyes were just beheld by the mystery that is the new trailer for Beyond the Black Rainbow. 

Behold for yourself.

The trailer was reminiscent for me of other strange films that promise to take me somewhere wholly new, wholly other. The bait of such a marketing slogan might not coo to many, but it does hold a deeply seductive resonance with me.

It calls to me from the highlands, from beyond the meadow and past the plains.
It whispers to my soul, promising:

(in a mechanical, yet soothingly erotic female voice)

Dante, there are new ideas here. They live, grow, and reproduce here. 

Yes, they reproduce merrily.

I alone know what hope this enraptures in that shell of yours, small man. 

I know the secret yearnings in your heart's mind. 

Dante, come and see, witness and take note -- 

the time of revelation has been found here. 

Behold. 

And like a weightless Garfield, levitating towards the fumes of lasagna, I must quench my thirst.

 I must behold. 

And so I do...

...and inevitably am disappointed. 

The problem with these films Beyond the Black Rainbow (I'm assuming), Cube, Begotten, Into the Void, and to a lesser extent Pi, is that they can never actually take us to that place of total epiphany and wonder. They may show us obscure images and sounds, but they ultimately hold little meaning. There's nothing by which I can cultivate my truth-garden with --- truth-garden--- hmmm... I may hold onto that phrase.

They all end the same way: the protagonist either escapes the 'new-ness' or enters into it.

Take for example, Cube.

Cube is a jolly fun film. A bunch of folks wake up in a cube. They have no memory of how they got there. They don't know each other. But, by jove, there appears to be a paneled exit. Sadly, however, for the amnesiac band of outsiders, this panel leads to yet another cube, and it just so happens that this cube is booby-trapped, deadeningly! And so it goes; each cube has a different booby-trap, and each cube has an exit leading to another like-minded cube. That's just how it goes.

The film is a bit of fun just for trying to decipher which of the ragtag team will make it out alive, and indeed there is a level of enjoyment in beholding the various ways the renegades get impaled and the like, but the bottom line question of the film always remains --- what is this place, why is it here, and why were these people chosen?

Those are also the questions of our existence:

What is this place?

Why does it exist?

Why do we exist here?

I find those questions to be a bit more intriguing than the more generic "Who am I?" and, "Why am I here?" --- the focus is less on us, the microscopic, and more on the creation as a whole along with the Creator, the macroscopic. 

Spoiler Alert:

As it is always the case, one dude or dudette (in this case, handicapped dude) escapes the mystery. Yep, he escapes, and the movie ends. 

The films themselves can never enter into these unknown realms entire. They can maybe touch them, but inevitably they have to leave.

Ultimately, 

I am left lacking. 

We can't know the mind of God. We can't figure him out or understand his motivation. Every time we try, we'll come up pathetically short. 

Nevertheless, I can help but give a thumbs up to those aestheticians who try, eh? 

They wandered blind, through the streets;

they were so defiled with blood

that no one was able to touch

their garments.

Lamentations 4:14

Scatterbrained I

Worry not: the Summation of all things is at the bottom of the page. Go there now and save yourself the time. Go.

O Brother, Where Art Thou? Okay, so it turns out the Sirens didn't turn Pete into a horny toad. I'm glad about that... but what about the Sirens themselves? Were they just three women out doing there laundry, looking for three wandering fellows to seduce while singing, "You and me and the Devil makes three..."? That seems a bit strange, no? And why is that one lady carrying around a big ol' jug of what I assume is some form of liquor? In the middle of the day? Is that how people act when there's a depression on? Strange. 

2012. Dude, if you want worldwide havoc, just read the last half of the book of Judges. That shit is crazy -- even though everyone did what they thought was good. The last sentence of Judges, In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in his own eyes. Judges 21:25 

Falling Down. We open on a man stuck in traffic on a hot Los Angeles morning. The world is mean and angry. He alone seems to understand this fact. With this realization in mind, he acts as any man should in such circumstances; he boils down his quest to one thing: he must get home to his child. This is could be a very stereotypical beginning to a hero's journey, but this corky of a film had me from its very first frame, for we are not watching the hero's journey, but the villain's. This our protagonist's last revelation. "I'm the bad guy?" He asks incredulously. How many of us will come to realize the same thing on judgment day?

Silent Light. This Mexican film (though filmed within a Mennonite community that speak a weird hybrid of German/Spanish, I think) ended up as the favorite film of several of my more filmish friends a few years back. I think it's about forgiveness. Or salvation. Or guilt. Come to think of it, I'm not too sure. The method of filmmaking was a series of very long shots. Generally speaking, this is a pleasing format for me, as it allows characters the space to roam about and act human. Such styles can also be characterized and critiqued for being slowwww. Again, this doesn't bother me. That being said, what did bother me in this particular experience, is that the characters underacted. Incredible things happen, and yet people barely move. This was hard to believe, wherein if I were sitting amongst their numbers I'd be banging my drum hollerin' through the countryside making as much noise as possible due to the sights I'd had seen.  I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve. The fact that these people did not created a dissonance between me and them.  

Thor. The trailer just came out. I know nothing about this franchise comic book story, but I am already frustrated by it. I don't mind that Thor is an exiled extra-terrestrial. No, it's his weapon of choice that annoys me. He has this giant hammer thing. Let me be clear, as Old Boy taught us, the hammer is indeed a badass piece of armament. However, did you see Thor's hammer? It's so short. I keep looking at it thinking to myself, 'It would be so much more effective if the handle was a good foot longer. You can't get any leverage out of that thing!' Also, apparently Natalie Portman is the heroine in the flick -- see the proceeding paragraph for why that's troublesome.

Black Swan. I have yet to see this film. I do not believe I will see it. I believe I shouldn't see it. This is a point of discouragement for me, as it is being lauded as a potential frontrunner in the Oscar race this year. My friends are singing its praises. I have seen and intimately appreciated every single previous film by the director Darren Aronofsky. The film contains erotic lesbian behavior. Those images will stay with me if I let them in. Images can kill. They will leak into my thought life. And there, in that place, that's where my soul lies! Such thoughts lead to obsessions. And an obsession is a god. I will be burned by such a fire as that. A venomous, sinful fire. 

Pi. Darren Aronofsky's first film was about a guy who discovers God's true name. This code was like some sort of bite from the tree of knowledge, for it gave this little man the capacity to know all sorts of bits of data. In the end he can't handle such greatness. He can't handle it. He can't deal. He can't...  Good times!

White Christmas. This is my parents' traditional Christmas viewing. I reckon it is good for everyone to have such a tradition. But I don't much care for White Christmas. Bing Crosby - eh. I don't trust the man. 

It's a Wonderful Life. This is a superior choice, and a common one at that, for the annual Christmas viewing. But it's so emotionally exhausting. We get, what, 2 hours of poor ol' George Bailey just getting the snot stolen out from underneath him, until we finally have that cathartic, maybe 5 minute happy ending. That's a lot of turmoil for such a quick resolution. Plus, I reckon an annual Christmas film should have more to do with Jesus than just a hapless, wingless angel. 

The Black Stallion. Now there's a flick I could watch every year. It's a bit tropic for wintertime, but hang with me. Animals. The Stallion. Animals have that same sense of innocence about them that we equate with babies. So it is easy to transfer the innocence of the Black Stallion to Baby Jesus, yes? Sound like a plan? Plus, animals are far more intriguing to watch on screen than babies. Babies just kinda sit there most of the time. Granted, most animals don't do a whole lot more than sit and graze either, but they do it with a bit more style than babies. Camels got it going on. Monkeys too. And Ant-eaters... crazy lookin' piece of creation right there, I tell ya. 

Summation of Terror! (and other hyperboles):

• O Brother, Where Art Thou?  - Where can I find one of these Sirens?
•  2012 - Been there done that... in like 1500BC
• Falling Down - One badass descent!
•  Silent Light - Emote dagnamit, emote!
•  Thor - For Pete's sake, get a longer handle!
• Black Swan - Sigh (sad)...
• Pi - Sigh (happy)...
• White Christmas - Never trust the Bing.
• It's a Wonderful Life - Too much work.
• The Black Stallion - A Christmas Classic?

And that is that! Yes, that's -- that is to say... that's what I have to say about those things to which I have spoken. Now. Maybe tomorrow I'll think differently. Now. Go.