For once the hyperbole about a new band is justified.
Through the Windowpane is a great album.
Thomas Pynchon – A Journey into the Mind of [P.]
Thomas Pynchon – A Journey into the Mind of [P.] (2001)
Written and directed by Fosco Dubini
and Donatello Dubini
Music by The Residents
Language: English
Runtime: 96mins
“Things are not as they seem.” In US writer Thomas Pynchon’s case, this is a mantra, cornerstone to a life and labyrinthine oeuvre freighted with ceaseless speculation. In books like V. and Gravity’s Rainbow, the covert arenas of the contemporary order (the military-industrial complex, governmental conspiracy, the sinister reaches of science) mesh with counter-cultural values, permeating paranoia, arcane knowledge-systems and profoundly ironic humour in an encyclopaedic investigation of modernity. Central to this is a (doomed) quest for some singular explanation of things, a motif taken up by the Dubini duo in their intriguing derive that takes in his biography, times and obsessive supporters.
On the surface it’s a tall order: Pynchon is one of the great cultural recluses, unphotographed for 40 years, his absence from the flashgun glare now an inseparable part of his “project.” So the film offers an atmospheric collage, chaptered around varying recollections and his synchronicity with resonant aspects of post-war US society. Apposite newsreel and found-footage of missile experiments and Agency psychedelics tests mix with talking heads, spoken extracts and Pynchon’s articulate fans. Stand-ins, doubles, lookalike contestants populate a shifting reality, scored to a trippy, fragmented soundscape care of The Residents, that builds towards a compelling final act, searching for the grail of a new image of the writer. Reflecting the hall of mirrors in which the novels, history, the novelist and his “researchers” move, this documentary, while uneven and occasionally over-extended, provides required viewing for devotees, and should reward those keen to explore the mysterious dynamics of the age via one of their definitive surveillants.
Gareth Evans, Time Out.
The Grey Lodge is torrenting a 632MB avi version. Buy the DVD here.
Previously on { feuilleton }
• A literary event: new Thomas Pynchon
Le horreur cosmique
I’ll be in Paris this week so some French-related postings are in order.
Michel Houellebecq’s HP Lovecraft: Against the World, Against Life (which I still haven’t read) has been in the news again recently, with a number of reviews appearing in UK newspapers and magazines, most of which present the by-now rather tired spectacle of reviewers who normally wouldn’t give any of this nasty pulp stuff a second thought having to take Lovecraft seriously because Houellebecq is a serious author. (“He’s a bad writer!” they bleat. And Lou Reed is a bad singer; you’re missing the point, you fools.) The Observer last week had one of the better ones. Last year the Guardian published an extract from Houellebecq’s book.
Curious how often it requires the French to make the Anglophone world look anew at marginalised elements of its own culture; Baudelaire championed Edgar Allan Poe, it was French film critics who gave us the term “film noir” when they identified a new strain of American cinema and the Nouvelle Vague writers and filmmakers were the first to treat Hitchcock as anything other than a superior entertainer. The French have always liked Lovecraft so it was no surprise to me at least when Houellebecq’s book appeared.
Oddly enough, the only association I’ve had so far with French publishing is the use of my 1999 picture of Cthulhu’s city, R’lyeh, on the cover of a reprint of HPL stories from Houellebecq’s publishing house (above). Something I’ll be looking for in Paris if I have the time will be more of Philippe Druillet‘s Lovecraft-inflected work. Druillet has been working with the imagery of cosmic horror since the late 60s and even illustrated the work of William Hope Hodgson, one of HPL’s influences and an English writer the broadsheet critics have yet to hear about. Take a look at these pictures for stories written before the First World War then go and look at some stills from the latest Pirates of the Caribbean movie. What was once the preserve of Weird Tales and other pulp magazines is now mainstream culture.
Previously on { feuilleton }
• Davy Jones
• Charles Méryon’s Paris
Cuneyt Akeroglu
Elsewhere on { feuilleton }
• The men with swords archive
The Smirking Chimp
Cartoon by the wonderful Steve Bell.
I keep resolving to stop posting so much political stuff, there’s enough of that elsewhere and generally I’d prefer not to have the names, faces and actions of these miserable wretches polluting my web space. This was too good to miss, however. And this piece of polemic makes a good companion piece.
Jonathan Chait: Is Bush Still Too Dumb to Be President?
You can’t run a country on horse sense.
The Los Angeles Times
July 16, 2006
WAY BACK when he first appeared on the national scene, the rap against George W. Bush was that he might be too dumb to be president. As time passed, questions about Bush’s mental capabilities faded away.
After 9/11, his instinctive rather than analytical view of the world seemed to be just what we needed, and Americans of all stripes were desperate to see heroic qualities in him. (As Dan Rather announced at the time: “George Bush is the president; he makes the decisions; and, you know, as just one American, wherever he wants me to line up, just tell me where.”)
On top of that, Democrats decided it was politically counterproductive to attack Bush’s intelligence. Bruce Reed of the Democratic Leadership Council said in 2002, for instance, that calling Bush dumb “plays directly into Bush’s strength, which is that he comes across as a regular guy.” And so, for most of the last six years, the question of Bush’s intelligence has remained off the table.
Oh, sure, a few of us have brought it up from time to time, but we have generally been dismissed out of hand as wacky Bush-haters. By 2004, the question had been turned around completely. Democrats had almost nothing to say about Bush’s lack of intellect, while Republicans joyfully and repeatedly attacked John Kerry as an egghead. Anti-intellectualism was triumphant.
Yet it is now increasingly clear that Bush’s status as non-rocket scientist is a serious problem. The problem is not his habit – savored by late-night comedians – of stumbling over multisyllabic words. It is his shocking lack of intellectual curiosity.
Ron Suskind’s new book, “The One Percent Doctrine,” paints a harrowing picture of Bush’s intellectual limits. Bush, writes Suskind, “is not much of a reader.” He prefers verbal briefings and often makes a horse-sense judgment based on how confident his briefer seems in what he’s saying. In August 2001, the CIA was in a panic about an upcoming terrorist attack and drafted a report with the title, “Bin Laden Determined to Strike in U.S.” When a CIA staffer summed up the memo’s contents in a face-to-face meeting with Bush, the president found the briefer insufficiently confident and dismissed him by saying, “All right, you’ve covered your ass, now,” according to Suskind. That turned out to be a fairly disastrous judgment.
Bush loyalists like to dismiss Suskind’s reporting, but it jibes with the picture that has emerged from other sources. L. Paul Bremer III’s account of his tenure as head of Iraq’s Coalition Provisional Authority depicts Bush as uninterested in the central questions of rebuilding and occupying the country.
Video of a presidential meeting that came to light this year showed Bush being briefed on the incipient Hurricane Katrina. His subordinates come off as deeply concerned about a potential catastrophe, but Bush appears blase, declining to ask a single question. And of course there was the famous 2001 incident in which Russian President Vladimir Putin conveyed to Bush a story of being given a cross by his mother. Bush invested deep significance in the story. “I found him to be very straightforward and trustworthy,” he told reporters. “I was able to get a sense of his soul.”
Bush’s supporters have insisted for the last six years that liberal derision of the president’s intelligence amounts to nothing more than cultural snobbery. We don’t like his pickup truck and his accent, the accusation goes, so we hide our blue-state prejudices behind a mask of intellectual condescension.
But the more we learn about how Bush operates, the more we can see we were right from the beginning. It matters that the president values his gut reaction and disdains book learnin’. It’s not just a question of cultural style. The president’s narrow intellectual horizons have real consequences, sometimes cataclysmic ones.
It’s true that presidents can succeed without being intellectuals themselves. The trouble is that Bush isn’t just a nonintellectual, he viscerally disdains intellectuals. “What angered me was the way such people at Yale felt so intellectually superior and so righteous,” he told a Texas Monthly reporter in 1994.
When I went to college at Michigan, I occasionally played pickup basketball with varsity football players. They obviously felt athletically superior to me. I didn’t resent them for it – because they were.