Showing posts with label cinema. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cinema. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Anamnesis and aletheia

I am in the process of re-watching a movie called Memento (2000). My dear friend reminded me of the existence of it. It is a movie by one of the most gifted directors of our time Christopher Nolan (who also created The Dark Knight which is simply a perfect film if you are in the right mode of consciousness). The protagonist of Memento, Leonard, is suffering from anterograde amnesia, a clinical condition that blocks mind/brain’s capacity to remember new phenomena. In order to survive in the world which is full of people who would like to take advantage of his condition Leonard constantly leaves himself notes to remind who he is, where he is, and what his goals are. 

The feeling of watching this movie is so uncanny that I had to stop watching it. And when I went to bed this uncanny feeling didn’t disappear, insisted on it being followed and brought me back to my computer to write this down. To be straightforward, this uncanny feeling is that of the recognition that in some bigger sense Leonard’s condition reminds me of my own—and, perhaps, it appears familiar not only to me but also to other people.  

I feel that in some way I live a similar life always leaving myself notes in attempt to re-mind myself who I truly am in the fullness of my being-in-the-world. I have this and that peak experience, I glance here and there on my true nature, I become one with something which is what I am, I become capable to hold it in the gesture of my meditative awareness for longer periods; and yet once in a while I slip into the darkness of forgetfulness. In a sense, this very blog is a note that I leave to myself to constantly remind myself of what I am—or at least of what it is worth living for and of what it is possible to choose as one’s own destiny. 

In addition to becoming a person on the frontal egoic plane in the process of individual growth and development mediated to a great extent through socialization it seems that my life is about, first of all, reminding myself of something—of my Soul’s True Love if you let me put it that way—then remembering it and then knowing through embodying my True Self (and finally letting go of it and stepping into not-knowing). As long as I am locked within the cell of my mind which constantly chaotically twinkles and flows I have to re-mind myself of what I am and then to train my mind to remember. But eventually when the personal mind gets transcended but included, once one enters the narrow gate, a bigger entity emerges, the one that simply knows and feels and moves and speaks and sees. Here, life becomes quite easy: I simply smell my way further and operate on the skills my well-adapted personal ego has learnt through the years of learning. Sometimes I could recall to my presence some farther events and perspectives that I have once known somewhere else—and feel as if I am actually there—and yet I don’t need to rely that much on re-minding myself of all those limited details any longer—I let go. 

Sometimes I can even forget what I said a minute or an hour ago and there is simply too much information in the world now for me to try to remind myself of all of it. When I open my email client and see all these different emails from different streams of life, different parts of the world, different projects, different ideas… they simply overwhelm if I attempt to remind myself of everything through my mind.  

I don’t know where the need for re-minders would disappear. My friend Jim whose depth of mind fascinates me says the word money comes from the word warning or reminder. Will the times when we don’t have to re-mind ourselves come? How would it be if we simply… remember—for starters? All the beautiful churches, all the beautiful temples, all the beautiful pyramids, all the houses, all the cities, all the graves, all the monuments, all the books, all the photographs, all the paintings, etc.—are they here to simply re-mind us of something once in a while or can they act as catalyzing portals into remembering and eventually simply and profoundly non-forgettingly being and fulfilling one’s destiny on multiple planes of living. I don’t mind if it happens.

I am concluding with an entry from a dictionary on Plato’s works:
truth

The Greek word for truth, aletheia, incorporates the word for “forgetting”; a-letheia might be translated as “unforgetting” or “remembering.” This etymology is particularly significant in Plato’s epistemology, which maintains that true knowledge can be achieved only through anamnesis, the soul’s recollection of the Forms it has glimpsed during its circuit through heaven in metempsychosis. For Plato, knowledge of mere phenomena cannot attain the truth, as only the ideal Forms are truly real.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Andrew Lloyd Webber & JCS

Andrew Lloyd Webber's Jesus Christ Superstar is one of the most beautiful and touching modern prayers that I know of.


Thursday, July 1, 2010

The Bremen Town Musicians

In 1969, a Russian musical cartoon The Bremen Town Musicians started its voyage into the hearts of citizens of the Soviet Union. It resonated with the social revolution and the civil rights movement of The Sixties in the West, and due to this fact received harsh criticism from the USSR establishment and government for "noxious Western influence."

Within the two consequent years more than 28 millions Soviet people watched the cartoon and listened to the music. Two decades later, in the ruins of the collapsing empire, the songs from this cartoon fostered my early growth and development. For all my life I have remembered the subtle joy of freedom from these songs. 


Lives of several generations were guided and transformed by the sun beams of hope brought forth by this music. Such is a power of music. Let's remember and listen in silence and reverence.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Interior Gulag

A few days ago I defended my thesis (that is, diploma). Basically, it means the end of the 5-years journey that fragmented my life and taught me an important lesson. The lesson is, if you want to jump into something for five years you had better be very conscious about what you are doing.

There was no joy. But there was a sense of freedom. Whole life is in front of me, and there are no deadlines, credit tests, and papers. I am responsible for my actions and for who I am.

Last week, just a couple of days before the thesis defense,  I watched a Russian movie Karaul (1989). It is a movie that is worth being watched by anyone. I perceived it metaphorically as a story about what I have recently been calling "interior Gulag." Most Russians who were born in the USSR have it. The Soviet Union was a totalitarian social system which forced replication of specific patterns and states of consciousness in its citizens. One of the specific states it has been reinforcing in order to ensure that its citizens act as parts of a mechanism was the state of being a prisoner who is forced to do things he or she doesn't want or need—useless things, pointless stuff, hard meaningless work. Many people in today's Russia continue to live as if it was the Stalin's time and they were in Gulag.

I want to write about it in more detail. But now I am too tired.

Please be well.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

The picture of Dorian Gray

There is a confession I have got to make. I love movies. Frankly speaking, I am a movie maniac. I watch every decent movie that comes within my reach when I have time. (And sometimes I free all my time, leave everything aside for the sole purpose of watching a good story to unfold.) Anything that has the IMDB rating above 7.5 is something that I would love to see. I watch even 7.0 movies. On rare occasions I can watch 6.5ers. In the ages before the Internet I have actually watched hundreds of movies without any discrimination. Honestly, the number of movies I’ve watched during last five years might go beyond any sense. If I would compare this to anything, it would be probably that song “So What” by Metallica:
I’ve watched this, I’ve watched that…
I even watched all the parts of Friday 13th when I was a teenager. I will not mention TV series here, for you are going to have a hard time trying to stop me from speaking extensively about House MD or Dexter or True Blood or Breaking Bad and so on. Oh, don’t get me started! (Or, perhaps, shall I write some notes on those some other time?) I am a cinematographic hedonist. I don’t think I am the worst-case scenario of a movie junkie, I’m sure there are many people who regularly watch movies that have rating below 6.5. Who am I to judge them?

What attracts me in the cinematographic art is states and perspectives experience. What I discovered (as, I believe, many other people) is that a work of art is usually a response to a state experienced by the artist, a perspective that he or she is desperate to frame into a painting. Especially great movies by being a work of art are able to show everyone who is open to receiving the transmission some fleeting aspect of universal experience, some unknown corner of consciousness, some experiential continuum that is ready to unfold before you on the screen and enfold you into it by transforming you into a true experiential participant of this very occasion. One of the best masters of dialectical art in cinematography seems to be my favorite David Lynch. When I say dialectical, I mean that kind of art that involves you as a participant of the masterpiece; and the overall viewers’ response is something that helps to make the art consummate. For instance, when I watched Lynch’s INLAND EMPIRE in a movie theater for the first time, I had the sense that everyone who is watching it now is the participant of the mystery unfolding…

So during the last few months I’ve watched some pretty good movies that I didn’t write about. But here is a movie that I don’t want to leave unmentioned. Dorian Gray is the title, and it is an Oliver Parker’s film based on a beautiful book by Oscar Wilde. To be succinct, I think the movie tells the Dorian Gray story the perfect way; and I doubt that it could’ve been told better in terms of a movie at this point in history. It is a huge and timely slap on the face for the folks who are fond of the impulse-gratifying life style and instant-coffee spiritual materialism. It is a story about a Soul trapped exclusively in the sensorimotor world of prerational senses and bodily feelings and flesh by somehow innocently trusting and embodying the rationally formulated worldview of sensual hedonism. (Isn’t it true that our minds can rationalize any invented worldview with some sense of reason; and then trust it; and then make others believe it too?) And, surely, it is a story of maturation and liberation. For blessed are we that it is our flesh that decays and not the soul, even though it can lose itself in reflections and shadows casted by apparitions seen in the mirrors of the Spirit’s Great Play. And eventually, I believe, the Soul will always have a chance for redemption.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Inland Empire

David Lynch is my favorite movie director; and INLAND EMPIRE is the only movie I've watched for a good dozen of times, always finding something that my consciousness had previously missed, always constructing new meanings, always challenging my own mind to attend to perfection of this and every moment.

This is the rare masterpiece that engages you as a spectator in the process of intersubjective co-creation of meaning and meaningfullness with a Rorschach blot test of seemingly chaotic kaleidoscope of primordial consciousness in background. It is an art of finding the ever-present Witness in the labyrinths of the individual soul, a kind of dialectical art that is worth silencing your ego for three hours. This movie dialogues with you; and you had better be its equal in the dialogue.

If you consider yourself aesthetically gifted, use this movie as a test; and the result of it will tell what's the actual worth of your aesthetics. Out of the dozen times of watching INLAND EMPIRE, I have watched it in a cinema for 4 times. Every time a half of the audience left the cinema after the first hour; and the other half stayed till the end, enthralled by irrational visions and joyfully crying because of the genuine hope and liberation the story unfolds.

I dare you to watch INLAND EMPIRE. If you're among those who prefer to keep boundaries between your ego and the art you observe, you will probably not make it to the end of the movie. You won't have an intimate encounter with the beauty, and you will miss one of the profoundest experiences you can ever enjoy in life. It is not a simple walk, it is a challenge (just as life is not all joy and pleasure), but successfully confronting this challenge bears fruits of self-liberation.

Chrysta Bell – Polish Poem
from the INLAND EMPIRE Original Soundtrack

I sing this poem to you...
On the other side, I see…
Shall you wait, glowing?
It’s far away, far away from me,
I can see that —
I can see that —
the wind blows outside and I have no breath,
I breathe again and know I’ll have to live
To forget my world is ending.
I have to live…
I hear my heart beat,
Fluttering in pain, saying something,
Tears are coming to my eyes —
I cry… I cry…
I cannot feel the warmth of the sun
I cannot hear the laughter
Choking with every thought,
I see the faces,
My hands are tied as I wish —
But no one comes,
No one comes,
Where are you?
Where are you?
What will make me want to live?
What will make me want to love?
Tell me… tell me…

I sing this poem to you… to you…
Is this mystery unfolding
As a wind floating?
Something is coming true —
The dream of an innocent child…

Something is happening —
Something is happening…

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Pandorum as a real pathology

Spoiler alert: The reader is advised to watch Pandorum (2009) prior to reading this psychological interpretation of the movie.

Pandorum is a fictional psychopathological syndrome induced by prolonged space travel. Its symptoms include severe paranoia, vivid hallucinations, and homicidal tendencies. The onset of pandorum can be triggered by psychological trauma under stress conditions of space flight.

In the movie, one of the characters experiences acute pandorum when receiving the shocking news that the Earth has been destroyed. He kills other crew members and single-handedly takes charge of the giant spaceship that has been launched to colonize an Earth-like planet locating far from the Solar system. He decides to play God and wakes up thousands of colonists from their hyper-sleep and locks them away into the darkness of the spaceship. When the spaceship finally reaches the destination planet, he prevents colonization of the land by not initiating an ejection of the last hyper-sleep cameras with colonists aboard onto the planetary surface. He is stuck with himself; and he chooses to continue the pathological self-play, even if that means destruction of the last remnants of mankind. He has fostered creation of a dark pleromatic world inside the spaceship; and he makes the choice to reign in Hell, for this artificially-created hell provides comfortable boundaries to his personality. The boundaries that, as he hopes, are never to be breached.

Even though it is a work of fiction, it might be the case that cinematically-described pandorum accurately reflects the psychological reality of one commonly-shared developmental pathology. Psychological development runs as a series of disidentifications from old ways of being and subsequent identifications with new ones. When the old world is lost and the new world isn't found yet, the sense of disorientation arises. "I have lost everything; and in the world of nothingness I may do whatever I want," and that's when the self falls prey to the infinite loop of pandorum. I bound myself to playing a very limited game. I do my best to prevent the change of that condition, for the status quo lets me stay in the trap of the self-contracted ego. This is the trap I'm adapted to, while the perspective of an unknown world is uneasy. Here, in the self-created hell I feel powerful; "I am a spider and this is my web, the web that I weave."

And once the pathological condition is set—once the web is finally woven—the self is going to defend it at all costs. Salvation is so near; and yet I'm so afraid to let go that I use all my powers to enforce the current disposition, both consciously and unconsciously. Instead of using my potential to explore the land of the new, I focus my energies on sticking to the present condition. There's nothing more important than my current zone of comfort; nothing else matters. In order to defend itself, the pathological condition creates its own immune system. The fixation occurs. I'm getting lost in myself; and others bring danger. ("Wherever there is other, there is fear," as the Upanishads put it.) The pandorum's box is open, all evils are unleashed. Pathology's perpetuated, development's deceased.