The Age of the Internet is a stagnant nightmare. Every
individual is isolated, and each one can only experience the world thru a tiny
window: an electronic screen. All these individual screens are supposedly
connected, but it’s clear that the connections are manipulated by various
authorities. What do the authorities want from those who are isolated?
Apparently, they wish that every individual would die quietly.
§
I quoted the following paragraph from Wikipedia exactly five
years ago in this same online diary, but I was wondering yet again about the
subject of political “left wingers” versus “right wingers” (because I hear these
terms still being bandied about), so I’ll copy it a second time:
The terms “left” and “right” first appeared during the French Revolution of 1789 when members of the National Assembly divided into supporters of the Ancien Régime to the president’s right and supporters of the revolution to his left.
So LEFT means “supporters of the revolution.” Shall we say
that this counts for “supporters of the American revolution?” Here in
the U.S., it’s hard to tell how to apply this terminology, because, in the
years since the revolutionaries first gained independence from old Britain, the
U.S. has gradually become more and more like old Britain. It reminds me of the
way that rebellious children grow up to resemble their parents. Now I look at
all the people living in the U.S. suburbs who care deeply for their country’s
original revolution – they revere the “Founding Fathers” and they call
themselves “patriots” – yet the political opponents of these folks currently insult such patriotic suburbanites by calling them “far-right wingers.” And if I cite the
above encyclopedia quotation to show that these same patriots are the truest left
wingers, because they “support the revolution,” they themselves take offence
because the modern misuse of the terminology is so entrenched that they believe
they hate the left.
On the other hand, according to the etymology, RIGHT means “supporters
of the Ancien Régime.” In the U.S. case, I assume that this would signify old
Britain. In the French example, according to the same encyclopedia, “The Ancien
Régime, also known as the Old Regime, was the political and social system of
the Kingdom of France from the Late Middle Ages until 1789 and the French
Revolution, which abolished the feudal system of the French nobility and
hereditary monarchy.” Now I ask: Are there any right wingers still in
existence? Does anybody support the feudal system, the nobility and hereditary
monarchy? Are there any United Statesians who still hold out support for old
Britain? Or what would be the equivalent of France’s Ancien Régime in the U.S.
nowadays? My first guess is that it would be the banks, the billionaires and
their corporations that govern the U.S. Is anyone FOR these entities, other
than the heads of such structures themselves? Perhaps the people who work for
these systems as armed security (guards, police, military, mercenaries, etc.)
can consider themselves a part of the true new right.
§
Also, when I was researching the above terms in the
encyclopedia, an illustration caught my eye. You’ve probably seen it before: it
was a pyramid with four horizontal echelons. The tiptop was a triangle that
contained one man, and this section was labeled “The King.” The level below
that was labeled “Lords (Vassals to King)” and it contained several people.
Beneath that was a level with a larger crowd of folks labeled “Knights (Vassals
to Lords).” And under that was the vastest foundation that contained multitudes
and was labeled “Peasants (Serfs).” I mention this just to wonder how it might
be brought up-to-date; for, again, we U.S. citizens no longer have a King; so
the top of our pyramid is nonexistent. Instead of four sections, our modern
pyramid only has three. Its “Lords” section is the highest: those are the
modern oligarchs (the word “oligarch” comes from two Greek words: oligoi, which means “few,” plus arkheim, which means “to rule”; so “oligarchy” signifies “a small group of ruling powers”). Then the middle section of our modern pyramid is the police and
military (etc.): they’re the modern “Knights.” And the “Peasants” are
everyone who’s not an oligarch or an armed protector of the oligarchy.
I was also thinking about childbirth. “Joys impregnate.
Sorrows bring forth.” (That’s one of William Blake’s “Proverbs of Hell.”) The
body feels pleasure during conception: it’s like a lure to a trap; then, once
the new life is conceived, the pregnant woman must gestate the being. For the
being, this is bliss; and although I can’t say whether the period of gestation
is joyful or sorrowful for the one who is carrying the being, my guess is that impregnation
has its pluses and minuses: I assume that it’s fun to consume a lot more food
than you normally do (cuz now you’re eating for two), but it’s a drag to feel
bloated and heavy, and you probably get too easily exhausted. And then comes
childbirth – THAT is what is supposed to be agony.
But I wonder about cows and horses and deer – do they all
feel pain when birthing their young? I remember the narration at the beginning
of the biblical book of Exodus, which contrasts the Egyptians, who experience
difficult and sluggish childbirths, to the Hebrews, who give birth easily and
quickly:
. . . the Hebrew women are not as the Egyptian women; for they are lively, and are delivered ere the midwives come in unto them. (1:19)
I think that this is how it should be: bringing forth a calf
should be as trouble-free as having a pleasant dream.
§
Speaking of Exodus, I think I’ll read Chapter 5 tomorrow, in
memory of May Day (which the U.S. observes on the first Monday of September, to
prevent solidarity between international workers).
§
The last thing I want to say here is that I’ve been re-watching
a lot of Alfred Hitchcock movies. I’ve screened title after title, and I’ve
almost worked my way through his entire filmography. I’m simply doing this for
kicks, on a whim, over many months; and I’m watching other movies in between,
whenever I like. The first time I screened all of Hitchcock’s films was when I
was just out of high school – but, back then, I did it more mechanically and it
wasn’t as fun. This time it’s nicer. I own a copy of that famous book HITCHCOCK/TRUFFAUT,
which consists almost entirely of casual conversations between Hitchcock and
the French New Wave filmmaker François Truffaut, and I like reading what they
said about each movie after I see it. Truffaut calls Hitchcock the best
director. I myself favor Orson Welles (or others, depending on my mood). I truly
love Hitchcock, but he also feels cold to me. If I were to write a book-length
study of one filmmaker consisting entirely of interviews, I would choose Jean
Renoir. He’s the warmest and most humane. He’s a human-heart director. So
before reaching the end of my Hitchcock filmography-trip, I’ve begun to do the
same thing for Renoir – I’ve already made it as far as his U.S. films (1941). It’s hard to express how rewarding it’s been. I hope
I’ll mention more thoughts about both directors in future entries, but right
now I’ll just give one excerpt from the HITCHCOCK/TRUFFAUT book, since it
concerns the genesis of Hitchcock’s career:
I always wonder, How does one become a director, or any
known, officially recognized artist? The film industry is poisoned by money
nowadays; I would even say that cinema is dead forever. And although financing
has always been a toxic aspect of it, it wasn’t always so lethal. Hitchcock
began working in the background of the industry during the days of silent
films. Here’s the exchange from Truffaut’s book that I wanted to share:
FRANÇOIS TRUFFAUT: This brings us to 1925. Following the shooting of The Prude’s Fall, the director doesn’t want you to continue as his assistant. And that’s when Michael Balcon suggests that you become a director.
ALFRED HITCHCOCK: Balcon said, “How would you like to direct a picture?” and I answered, “I’ve never thought about it.” And in truth, I had not. I was very happy doing the scripts and the art direction; I hadn’t thought of myself as a director. Anyway, Balcon told me that there was a proposal for an Anglo-German picture. Another writer was assigned to the script and I left for Munich. My wife, Alma, was to be my assistant. We weren’t married yet, but we weren’t living in sin either; we were still very pure.
This makes me smile, but it also maddens me. Hitchcock never even thought about becoming a director? And the position simply landed in his lap? Then if you follow the pictures that he directed from the beginning, you’ll note that many were far from masterworks (to put it gently), but somehow the industry allowed him to continue creating. I’ve seen other directors ruined after just one box-office disappointment. In fact, a director could make the most sublime film of his generation and yet nearly suffer being exiled from the business, since, as Blake’s VALA always sez, “wisdom is sold in the desolate market where none come to buy” – I’m thinking about Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York (2008), which Kaufman has said almost made it impossible for him to find future financing. All the same, I’m glad that Hitchcock was permitted to make so many movies. And I like that he and his wife were such good kids – in that moral realm, I relate to him: I’m afraid of sinning, too.
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