Showing posts with label terrain vague. Show all posts
Showing posts with label terrain vague. Show all posts

'a private swamp / was where this tree grew feathers once' : a radio memorial in four movements.

"It seems to me then as if all the moments of our life occupy the same space, as if future events already existed and were only waiting for us to find our way to them at last, just as when we have accepted an invitation we duly arrive in a certain house at a given time.”
- W. G. Sebald, Austerlitz

"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. [...] Houses live and die: there is a time for building / And a time for living and generation / And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane / And to shake the wainscot where the field-mouse trots / And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto."
- T. S. Eliot, East Coker (from 'Four Quartets')

"the bird sings with its fingers" : Alphaville and Orphee

Chris Darke's 2005 book on Jean Luc Godard's 1965 film Alphaville contains some great lines on the relationship of Godard's sci-fi noir masterpiece to Cocteau's own prior re-contextualisation of the Orpheus myth, and on the Orphic poetics of the filmic / radio relationship.



from the chapter entitled Orpheus unbound :

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"In Alphaville, Orpheus, bard of Thrace, the poet and singer of classical myth, undergoes one of his most unlikely reincarnations as Lemmy Caution rescuing Natasha von Braun, his Eurydice. As they flee together he tells her, with inverted fidelity to the myth, not to look back at the underworld they've escaped from. Godard's version of the myth dwells heavily on its earlier cinematic treatment in Jean Cocteau's Orphee (1949). When he filmed Orphee, Cocteau was adapting his play of 1926 as well as updating the myth by dressing it with all the trappings of modern life. Cocteau's Orphee (Jean Marais) hangs out at the Cafe des Poetes, is conveyed to the land of the dead in a chauffeured limousine (which passes through a negative-printed landscape) and receives communications from the dead poet Cegeste (Edouard Dermite) via the car's radio. In Orphee, radio and cinema are technologies transfigured, machines that communicate mediumistically with those who know how to listen and see, those with the capacity to tune into the other-worldly wavelengths on which myth broadcasts its messages from beyond. The strange communications that Orphee picks up are a kind of morse code in blank verse - 'L'oiseau chante avec ses doigts. Une fois. Je repete. L'oiseau chante avec ses doigts. Deux fois. Je repete...' ('The bird sings with its fingers. Once. I repeat. The bird sings with its fingers. Twice. I repeat...') - and they echo throughout Alphaville, either as aphoristic fragments from the mouth of a machine in the questions that Alpha 60 poses Lemmy, or when Lemmy narrates, in voice-off, his taxi ride with Natasha after they have left the Institute of General Semantics:

Lemmy (off): As the radio was issuing its traffic programme, Natasha spoke to me in her voice of a pretty sphinx...

The words 'joli sphinx' ('pretty sphinx'), thrice repeated on the soundtrack, work with the mention of the car's radio to reprise the mysterious communications in Orphee. There are also numerous visual invocations of Cocteau's film, from the negative-printed sequences already discussed to the scenes in which the inhabitants stagger through the corridors of Alphaville as the city self-destructs, clinging to the walls like the deathly denizens of Orphee's 'Zone'. Paul Eluard, too finds a place in Godard's Orphic myth as the figure of the dead poet whose words are brought to life by his messenger-surrogate Lemmy Caution. All of which indicates that, for Godard, the myth of Orpheus serves a greater purpose than merely homage. In 1962 Godard was already calling on Cocteau's film as providing a definition of cinema as 'the only art which, to use Cocteau's phrase, "films death at work". The person one films is in the process of aging and dying, so one films a moment of death at work'. Over 30 years later in episode 2A of Historie(s) du cinema, Seul le cinema, the reference has changed slightly (Cocteau's name has gone missing) but the aim is still to give a definition of cinema in terms deriving from myth and poetry: 'Cinema authorises Orpheus to turn round without causing Euridice's death.' For Godard, cinema not only shows but also conquers death.

Myths as we know never die, they just assume new disguises. Claude Levi-Strauss observed that the interpretations of myths 'are themselves instances of the myth, prolongations or variations of its narrative logic'. So it is with Orpheus, who has been busy reinventing himself since he last plucked his lyre. In a brilliant essay that anatomises the place of this myth in Godard's work, Jacques Aumont claims that the director has often returned to Orphee, and in Alphaville, Allemagne annee 90 and Helas pour moi (1993) he finds the film's "disguised remakes". Orpheus is the 'code name' for cinema which posesses 'the power to look behind itself and, in the same look, to bring history forward and to make it disappear'.

"Filmed, the past freezes, but can die no longer. [...] such is the horizon of the Orphic metaphor: the cinema is that which endows us with another memory... Cinema remembers everything, virtually and sometimes for real, but it has changed our way of remembering ourselves, changed the contents of our memory, changed memory itself."

In Cocteau's film Orphee is guided through the Zone, wading in slow motion through the limbo between the lands of the living and the dead; 'time is the wind he must walk against'. Could it be the same wind invading Lemmy's hotel room at the end of Allemagne annee 90? If so this wind makes twins of Orpheus and Benjamin's Angel, both of them traveling in time, continually turning to look back at where they've come from, caught at the moment of crossing a boundary, one passing from the darkness of the underworld to the light, the other propelled forward from Paradise by 'progress'. As Aumont acknowledges, the Orphic metaphor for Cinema at work in Godard's films is ambiguous. In having looked back at the past, cinema casts its light forward in time as well: cinema 'projects'."

- Chris Darke, Alphaville pp. 94-6





another excellent excerpt of the text (which also has a brief discussion about the cultural semiotics of a gated community just outside Sao Paulo called, fantastically, Alphaville) is available here

owls do cry : field recordings in the grounds of seacliff asylum, dunedin


a field trip to the grounds of the old seacliff hospital on the outskirts of dunedin produced some recordings of local birdlife, and associated reflections on Janet Frame's history on site during the most troubling period of the writer's life. Her first short story collection The Lagoon and Other Stories was published while she was a patient – advance copies arrived on 4 March 1952. Nine months later, in December of the same year she was scheduled for a leucotomy at Seacliff. As Michael King puts it in An Inward Sun – the World of Janet Frame :

“Nine Months later, when Janet was once again committed in Seacliff, the book may have saved her life – or, at the very least, her intellectual and artistic life. There medical staff informed her that she had been selected for a dreaded leucotomy operation (the same operation known in the United States as a lobotomy). This intervention severed the fibres connecting the front part of the brain to the rest of the cerebral cortex. Most patients who had the operation experienced a reduction in anxiety; some were rendered vegetative. In Janet’s case, momentum towards this outcome seemed unstoppable. John Money advised against it. But Lotte Frame was persuaded to give written consent. Within days of the scheduled surgery, on 26 December 1952, newspapers around the country carried a story headed ‘Writer Wins Prize for Prose’ – Janet had won the Hubert Church Award, New Zealand’s only literary prize for fiction or non-fiction prose, for The Lagoon. And the superintendant of Seacliff, Dr Geoffrey Blake-Palmer, took her off the operation list. ‘I’ve decided that you should stay as you are. I don’t want you changed.’”

built in the 19th Century, the Seacliff hospital buildings were structurally unsound from the beginning, and after the relocation of the hospital staff and patients to Cherry Farm psychiatric facility in the 1950s, various uses for them were mooted but never realised, and they were left to slowly decay.

birds however have found their home here in abundance. in a improptu lo-fi tribute to Messiaen, and perhaps Sebastian, and certainly the people who once wandered the grounds here, some spontanious human-bellbird imitations were also recorded...