In my end is my beginning

So where am I again? Where am I now? This is emergent literature – correct? Ok, I just wanted to get my bearings, make sure my feet were firmly planted. You know, make sure everything’s squared away. This is it you know, it’ll all be over soon. The big bang, curtains, the last hurrah. Back to zero. What do we do? Where do we go from here? We do what we should have been doing from the beginning – enjoying ourselves! We read, we laugh, we love, we return … We read, we laugh, we love, we cry, we journey out, we return … But will we learn anything new upon this return? Or are thing always the same? Nothing new to see, No new road to follow or river to navigate. Strike out and claim a new place on the map, be original, or be the same. Retrace the maps we laid on the wilderness and discover it is all an illusion. What did I learn from this time spent here? Am I a deeper person? Doubt it. Don’t even know what that means. If it means I’m falling asleep over my keyboard then… Sorry lost control for a bit. Someone was behind the scenes pulling the strings… the puppet master…

About a year ago a close friend and I began what would become an on going debate about history and literature. He claims that history is more important and holds a greater significance because it actually happened – or something like that. In the beginning I vehemently disagreed with him. But over time I began to share his perspective. Now, allow me to explain. I was reading and excessive amount of history at that point in time and had not read a descent novel since… wow I can’t even remember – Bulgakov maybe? And that was a long time ago. Anyway I had forgotten the extraordinary power of good literature. After this class I can safely say I have returned to my former side of the argument and will defend my post valiantly. And whom can I thank for this return? Why none other than the alchemist himself – Dr. Sexson with his bag of magic (Eternal Return, 20 Minute Life time, Dolce Domum, Life as fiction and language, and the world of myth and dream). It took recognizing these literary myths for me to fully appreciate innately complex books. I have always read a majority of “high brow” literature, but I’m afraid that I didn’t properly absorb its significance. I enjoyed it for the difficult vocabulary and adult themes but that was all. It would appear that now I have to go back and reread some of my favorite books to reexamine them in hope of unlocking their deeper meaning. But it’s not just the “high brow” I need to examine. I have a new way of appreciating the so-called “low brow” material. Now I highly doubt I will work through Paulo Coelho catalogue of works over the summer, but I will no doubt pay more attention to artistic material that I previously dismissed as vapid.

So that’s it I guess. I feel like I should have more to say or some witty torque of words that would encompass all the deeper meanings of this course. But I guess this is just the ultra low brow coming out of me. Maybe I’ll just end how I began. So I’m writing a paragraph modeled after, imitating, burlesquing this over-articulate incessantly repetitive Water Genie. Seriously…

These are a few of my favorite things...

Right now as I contemplate my favorite and most visited blogs of the course I have a peculiar song running through my head. I think it’s called “My Favorite Things” and I think it’s from The Sound of Music, although I’m not sure because I’ve never seen the movie. The only reason I know the song is because my mother would sing it to me every night when I was a little boy. Anyway … I guess I’ll try and deconstruct that strange little anecdote. The song is about all these obscure things a person likes that one would never think to ordinarily mention when asked what your favorite things are. Wow! It’s really late I hope this is going somewhere. So I guess the reason I really liked some of the bogs that I did is because certain elements of them reminded me of pieces of myself. Is that narcissistic? Probably but I’ll deal with that anther day…

• First I have to thank Rio and Sam for their highly informative and “ass-saving” blogs that I’m sure more than a few of us would have been lost with out.
• I really enjoyed Sarah’s connection of Modest Mouse and Finnegans Wake. This might seem insignificant in comparison to some of your other beautifully written post but for me it was great. It sparked me to revisit one afternoon all the old Modest Mouse albums and memories they accompany. It was a highly nostalgic experience and I learned many new things examining them through the themes of this course.
• Jon Orsi. What can I say man? Where the hell do you find the time? Everything was great. I especially liked what you wrote about Borges and your “So What” rants. Also, thanks for making me aware of Henry Darger.
• Jennie Lynn your commitment to Joyce is both astounding and intimidating – I don’t know how you do it, but hats off! I have reread the last three pages of FW a dozen times since you performed them in class – truly amazing.
• Lissa thanks for posting those Beckett videos – they’re great!
• Justin I think it’s great that you found the themes of the course in comic books. I’ve always been a fan of graphic novels and wish I had more time to devote to them.
• James your blogs are sublime – looking forward to your presentation.
• Bizz the majority of your blogs had a peculiar sense of humor I can’t quite find the proper word for but I found it very refreshing.
• "The impending dawn" is our objective, but there cannot be a dawn and following day without the night that bears it. Christina this line has a deep resonance that reverberates through out me.
• Shelby your blogs are always eloquently written with a subtle tinge of humor. I love how much you write about Beckett – it’s the book that captivated me the most as well.

Of course I have skipped over some really great blogs and for that I am sorry. Perhaps I’ll catch up on them this summer. Oh, and I don’t know if I ever made my point with the song, or if there even was a point. It’s really far too late to be writing intelligibly. Chaus…

Paper topic

In my paper I intend to explore the myths we discussed in this class through the films of Charlie Kaufman. Clearly, as evidenced by my blogs, I am quite drawn to his work. I have been able to find evidence of his knowledge of these myths in every film in discussion. Not only will I make clear where these devises can be found in the films but also, I will discuss why they are important. After much study on these subjects I am beginning to discover why an artist might use these myths to convey their story. It is through these myths that we learn how one should properly live a life. Each and every one of these myths is ripe with moral questions and cautionary lessons. I would like to explore this concept further.

Synecdoche, New York

When Kaufman touched on death in his earlier works it usually served to advance the overarching parameters of the story. Rarely, if ever, did it carry as much weight or as deep of a significance as it did in Synecdoche, New York (2008). In this film the main character, Caden Cotard, is unhealthily fixated on his mortality. He fears death awaits him at the turn of every corner. His hypochondriacal tendencies constantly find him in obscure doctor’s offices where no one seems to be able to explain why he is falling apart. As we progress through the story of this man’s life we realize that he is not dying any more than those around him. The audience reaches the conclusion that death is inherent for us all, so why sweat it? We realize early in the film that Caden will die just as we too will some day die. The only guarantee in life is that we will not make it out alive. Once we have come to that realization, it is not the fact of mortality that scares us, but the way in which Caden squanders his life away as a pathetic, sniveling, neurotic man who is afraid to love or even attempt to lead a life of happiness. He lives his entire life on the sidelines afraid to play the game. The most logical way to interpret this film is through the myth of life as fiction and language, but clearly it touches on elements of all the other themes. Both the twenty-minute lifetime and eternal recurrence play a role in this film as well as a strong notion of the meaning of home.
A little plot break down is needed. Caden Cotard is a regional playwright who is awarded a MacArthur grant to create an “unflinchingly true” and “profoundly beautiful” piece of art. Caden begins constructing a theater piece that examines death. As the manifestation of the project is played out in front of our eyes is becomes nearly impossible to tell the difference between Caden’s actual life and the work of fiction. Truly art is mirroring life or life is mirroring art or perhaps better stated – art is life and life is art. The only constant through out this very confusing narrative is Caden. As the world around him becomes more abstract he continues to age as any other man would. He meanders through a series of loveless relationships that all eventually render him lonely. The film ends rather how it began, ambiguously and uneventful. The only point of interest is the realization of times passage. In the beginning of the film as Caden wakes up his alarm reads 7:44 and in the end of the film a clock on the wall reads 7:45. The audience then becomes aware that this whole fiction has taken place I a matter of seconds. From the moment of birth to death was merely an instant. And the entire world that Caden knew was his own creation – we are the authors of our own reality. How will you choose to tell your story?

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) is my favorite of the four films selected for this project. The writing is Kaufman at his best, add the unmistakably unique and quirky directing style of Michel Gondry and you have a truly surrealistic masterpiece. The film is at once concerned with modern man and woman’s existentialist woes as well as a deep meditation on the innocence of childhood and our seeming innate desire to return to that time of awe and wonder. The film explores the notion of love – at times wholly convincing – through primarily the myth of eternal recurrence (return). However, it would not be hard to argue the presence of all other themes this course concerned itself with this semester. The story is told in a non-linear fashion, and my guess is that any attempt to unravel and straighten the narrative would result in mass hysteria (well certainly mass confusion). With that said, some explanation is needed for an insightful dialogue to take place. The stories leading male is Joel Barish – quiet, shy, introspective, responsible guy in his early thirties. Joel meets an enthusiastic, slightly neurotic, adventuresome girl his own age named Clementine Kruczynski. Seemingly classic boy meets girl – seemingly. To all appearances the two are wrong for each other, but of course, they fall in love. And in spite of all their peculiar characteristics both can be extremely compassionate at times, giving the film a wonderful sense of good nature. To make a long, winding, labyrinth of a story shorter, at some point in their relationship Joel and Clementine fall out of love and Clementine – in a fit of impulse – has Joel erased from her memory. Finding this out Joel elects to have the same procedure to erase his memory of Clementine. The procedure of erasure starts by creating a neurological map of the memory by collecting all of the items associated with the person you wish to erase. The idea of plotting-out or mapping a person’s existence within the mind is a very interesting one. It is at first terrifying to think that we only exist if we are acknowledged but others and that existence could be so easily effaced. It becomes even scarier if you consider the fleeting and fickle nature of humans and the fungible way in which we pursue romance, or what is often mistakenly called “love.” Here is where the myth of eternal recurrence first comes to mind. When Friedrick Nietzsche began to discuss his interpretation of this concept he spoke about it only briefly – most likely because of its inherently problematic implications in regards to personal responsibility. Nietzsche was not actually professing that all events in the universe will eternally recur. Instead he is only proposing that if in fact all events were to recur, it would be necessary that they recur in the exact way in which they first happened. He calls this idea terrifying and refers to it as the weight of being. If we had the knowledge that all our actions would recur eternally, would we make more conscious decisions? How would our approach to intimacy be adjusted? Would we still have murder and racism? Would wars and genocide still be waged? Perhaps these afflictions are too engrained in our nature to ever be consciously altered by knowledge of consequence. Though perhaps if we think smaller, and strive to perform acts of kindness and live life in the service of others the weight of being could be lightened.
The most substantial part of the film is spent retracing the memories Joel collected of He and Clementine’s relationship. We as the audience are privy to witness the inter-workings of Joel’s subconscious come to terms with the erasure process as we work backward through the relationship. During the beginning of the procedure Joel is unaware of what is happening and is mildly disturbed at finding himself in unfamiliar places that are constantly in a sate of change. In one scene Joel actually confronts himself in one of the memories and is able to witness his past self prior to the metamorphosis. How bizarre – we are all in a constant state of change – to be able to return to a previous state of being and confront what you once were. You have to ask whether you would attempt to change yourself? Assuming you could. But if all matter is capable of recurring, it is fated to return just as it once came.
This is addressed many times in the film. Once Joel’s subconscious discovers that the memories of Clementine are being erased he attempts to stop the process by hiding the memory of her in other places –such as early childhood. Together Joel and Clementine face challenges Joel faced in his youth. He posses the possibility to change his actions, but alas he is doomed to repeat them. Once Joel’s subconscious is aware of the changes that are taking place he attempts to preserve some of the more intimate moments. These memories of the relationship worth keeping are some of the films finest scenes. Beauty, love, death, the loneliness of childhood, innocence and happiness are all addressed during this part of the story. But as the wheels are already set in motion, try and he may to save these memories; they too are lost. Here the audience is faced with a dilemma; would they have this procedure done if it were possible? Do not all memories, good or bad constitute our every being? Here we must think of our lives as works of fiction where every fragile memory is built out of words and images. Certainly this is that myth of life as fiction and language. When Joel allowed the doctors to create a map of his brain he forfeited the rights to his own book. And just as Malone lies rotting naked in his bed holding the power to snuff out the life of his characters, the conductors of the procedure have the power to rewrite Joel’s back pages. We now come to the realization that Clementine will be erased and Joel is helpless to stop it.
The culminating event of the procedure happens when they come to the moment Joel met Clementine first met – his final memory of the relationship. Joel and Clementine are sitting on the beach and she turns to him and says, “This is it Joel…it’s going to be gone soon.” He sadly acknowledges the truth of her statement. She asks, “What do we do?” At which point Joel finally realizes what he should have done all along, “Enjoy it.” The last moments of this memory are spent in a beach house where both characters discuss their most intimate feelings about the beginning of their relationship. As the two talk, the house begins to crumble all around them and wash into the sea symbolizing the end of everything they built together. It is here we gain an insight into an otherwise very sad ending. Destruction is a form of creation. From the ashes of fire the Phoenix will rise. As Eliot says in East Coker, “In my beginning is my end. In succession / Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, / Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place / Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.” The film crystallizes its discussion of eternal recurrence in its last scene, where we see the two lovers running away form us along the shore – this scene is repeated several times. We now know that Joel and Clementine have been living this same relationship for possibly all eternity. No matter how much either of them tries they will forever perambulate through this cycle of, falling in love and out of love, birth and death, destruction and creation.

Being John Malkovich

The film Being John Malkovich (1999) was the first invitation into the curious mind of writer Charlie Kaufman. This film encompasses nearly all of the themes discussed in class, however the myth of the twenty-minute lifetime and the world as myth and dream will be my main focus in this reflection. To begin, as the screen fades up from black we hear the sounds of an orchestra warming up and our eyes detect the blue velvet curtains of a stage. Just then the title (Being John Malkovich) appears across the middle of the screen and we hear the clapping of an unseen audience. The blue curtains are drawn as the masterful sounds of the allegro movement of Bartók’s Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta set the ambience for the film we are about to watch. However when the curtains are fully drawn we see not sentient beings as we expect, but merely a puppet. As the brisk natured music softens the puppet begins a deeply emotional interpretive dance climaxing to violence as the musical crescendo intensifies. Finally the puppet falls lifeless in a corner of the small room around which it danced so passionately and the music dies. All is quiet and the puppeteer is revealed, drinking a beer in all his humanness – that is to say his fallacy. Of course at this point the audience is forced to confront many questions; who in life is a puppet and who is a puppeteer? Is the entire world merely a stage on which we all dance? And if so who is pulling the strings? Immediately free will and divine existence are at the forefront of our minds and rarely will they leave throughout the remainder of the film.
In case you have not seen the film some plot structure and character outline is needed. Craig Schwartz is the puppeteer with whom we are introduced in the first scene. He is plagued by a slue of mild neuroses most likely caused by his uninspiring marriage and inability to channel his art form. For just as in our world, his world does not value the art of marionette performance. Craig’s wife Lotte, who has an unhealthy obsession with animals, has filed their cramped apartment with sickly dogs, cats, birds, and a chimpanzee named Elijah. In the beginning, there is a brief but wonderful scene that adds to the humorous and philosophical undertones that move along this otherwise absurd tale. The unemployed Craig is sitting on his couch watching television with Elijah; Craig turns to the chimp and says, “You don’t know how lucky you are being a monkey…because consciousness is a terrible curse…I think, I feel, I suffer...” This scene is made all the more humorous by the fact that Craig, who is essentially drifting though life in an unconscious state, is accusing a chimpanzee, who he calls a monkey (which he is not) of lacking consciousness. Science has long been aware that chimpanzees are capable of metacognition. Craig’s unknowing of this fact only adds to our awareness of his detachment from reality. Ok moving along. Craig is forced to get a job. He is hired on as a file clerk at a company that occupies the 7 ½ floor of a high-rise. His boss is a 149-year-old man with unconventional social skills. Craig falls in love with one of his co-works, the seductive Maxine Lund. One day while working Craig discovers a small door behind a filing cabinet that leads to a portal into John Malkovich. Craig enters the portal and is treated to a short “ride” inside the body of John Malkovich before he is ejected onto the New Jersey Turnpike. Needless to say Craig cannot keep this to himself and he tells Maxine in an attempt to impress her. One thing leads to another and they are eventually selling tickets to the inside of Malkovich’s head. There is also an extremely complicated love triangle that develops between Craig, Lotte and Maxine adding to the question of what constitutes gender and love. It would take an exceedingly long time to describe, much less paraphrase the remainder of the film. I’ve divulged enough of the plot for the purposes of this discussion – Now to examine the themes.
Even though the description of the film’s plot was brief it should be obvious why the two themes chosen fit best. The idea that you can pilot, channel or whatever you want to call it, is an interesting take on the myth of a twenty minute lifetime. In the film each of the characters describe their experience “inside” Malkovich as euphoric, ecstatic, and close to the nirvana. They have truly lived an entire life in the matter of a very short time span. And after their expulsion from the “body vessel” they are change. No longer are they fulfilled by their normal lives. Truly life begins to break down for them, both metaphorically and physically – at least in the mental sense. The three main characters (Malkovich excluded) digress into a life fueled by obsessive addiction of meaningless sexual experiences within the body of John Malkovich. Here the characters do not lack memory of either realm of consciousness they enter into, as with, The Inner Light, episode of Star Trek or even Molloy where the characters loose some knowledge or touch with one of the realities they occupied. In fact in the film Craig learns to control the body of Malkovich, much as he would one of his puppets. In one scene we are treated to an interpretive dance by Malcovich, the same dance Craig performed with his puppet in the opening scene. We now have a clear understanding that Craig is the master of puppets – he has transcended the sniveling, pathetic self we came to know in the beginning of the film to an almost omniscient being, capable of controlling anything he can pour himself into. The audiences’ head is racing with many questions and contradictions at this point. What constitutes the soul and where does it reside? If as many people wish to enter John Malkovich as they please, where is the real John Malkovich – where did his conscious go? When the body dies where is that energy transferred? Do we simply inhabit the closest available vessel?
Clearly this is an extremely complex film (that I am incapable of properly relating) and raises an insurmountable number of seemingly unanswerable questions. But it is important to note and entertaining to watch the themes of the course played out in front of our eyes. In the opening scene we are aware that this is all a farce. As opposed to The Tempest where Prospero reveals the prestige at the end of the play, we knew all along. Despite that knowledge we remain wrapped up in the story of these characters and find ourselves attempting to somehow relate. Is this a fruitless endeavor? Is it pointless to question our position on the stage of life? Are we aware of the set changes and the lifting of the veil? Who are the actors and where is our director? If we miss our line will there be anyone to prompt us? If we cut the strings and move on our own accord will we know when to exit and enter or when the show is over?

Adaptation

The film Adaptation (2002) seems to encompass a myriad of the themes discussed in our course. Most recently we have been discussing, The Alchemists. One definition of Alchemy, as we have said, is the transformation of the human soul. Through a process of intense introspection and meditation men can awaken themselves to their true selves. Or at least that is the idea. And why shouldn’t it be? We are born completely shit-mashing ignorant of ourselves. We are ripped from our mothers and forced to suck the dirty air of this cold blue world – from one matrix to another. The transplantation from our mother’s womb to the rocks and dirt – consequently the organic remains of those who have weathered this process before us – is too much for some individuals. They collapse, digress, shrivel like a culled flower without water, like a symbiont want of its mate, they disfigure, disorient – they Adapt. Now you say, wait! Adaptation is a good thing! Not to mention it is in direct contradiction to a few of the listed terms! To that I answer, YES! Correct! Absolutely! Without question! However I also shout, NO! Definitely not! Never! It’s out of the question! I say all these things simultaneously, and you label me insane. I assure you a list of concurrents is easily complied. But that is beside the point. In Biology Adaptation is the language of survival, it allows for the perfect pattern of overlapping web of self-fulfillment. Everywhere in the world is found beautiful harmony, where one plant or animal has learned to live with and thrive off of the achievements of another species through a perfect expressive dance of love and sex and birth and death. It is as if they have access to a map hidden by our ignorance if only we paid more attention we would find that the answer to all life’s questions lay under our dirt-encrusted fingernails. So that’s it. Adaptation is most definitely a good thing! Oh if only that were true, and perhaps it would be if only we spent more time admiring our dirty fingernails and less time biting them down to the bone while we ride a financial rollercoaster. But, (and this is the biggest contradiction ever constructed) humans have mysteriously removed themselves from the biosphere, at least in their own minds. Adaptation is no longer an admirable quality, or seemingly even a necessary one (though it still is). In the human mind adaptation is giving up (only when strictly speaking of humans, of course). Adaptation is refusing to grow beyond your microhabitat. It’s a sign of intellectual incuriosity – only people void of grandiose desires adapt to their surroundings. Can this possibly be true? (And here is where I’m returning to the themes, I promise). Those who adapt will most likely never leave their place of birth, meaning they will never go on the journey necessary in learning to appreciate those things, in our back yards. Dolce Domum is at the core of this debate – T.S. Elliot, that bimbo Dorothy, and as reluctant as I am to admit it, Paulo Coelho stand at the apex of this philosophical and more concretely biological confluence of opposing ideas. Dolce Domum my ass. I’ve lived in this place for 18 years, and I want nothing more than to run screaming mad into the night never to return. After all these years my home seems the antithesis to growth. Yet here I remain drying up like a beached whale in the hot sun. Well, I’ve done it again. I somehow managed to write myself into my work again, how narcissistic! Ok, I’ll make peace with that (for now). Here is my contention concerning Dolce Domum. The idea of home cannot be a geographical location. Otherwise bumbling little Dorothy would never have returned to that flat empty wasteland they call Kansas. Home must be a feeling or sentiment we compose within ourselves – a mixture of nostalgia and loathing for a time that possibly never existed. So many of our memories and feelings we associate with a place turn out to be false. The postcard is always more attractive than the actual view. Dolce Domum – or some sense of longing for home – is something we must all confront. And in the face of terror a decision is made – will you adapt or fade away?