My last two movies have been two films by Luis Bunuel: “The Discrete (I wonder if the French includes the discreet, discrete duality) Charms of the Bourgeoisie”, and “The Exterminating Angel.”
Bunuel was a surrealist, which means he sought the realer than real, the “above real”, the latent structures beneath the veneers, the things hiding in the closets and basements, the things hiding in the hearts and minds, of perhaps everyone, but certainly many.
I would like to apply my own Tubaform, my own deconstructive tool set, to his films, which make both films perfectly logical, perfectly reasonable.
In the first film, there is a recurring motif of the lead characters walking in green farm land. My read on this film is that they are all people who never quite meet the realities of life, who never quite finish the meal, which symbolizes full participation in life as life. Bunuel does not apply the harsh political condemnation of them I expected, and with their hypocrisies considered, is far kinder than I expected. He lets the “Mirandan” ambassador have his ham, after his nightmare. He finishes with them wandering the path of their lives, together, not quite present, not quite absent.
The Exterminating Angel, in contrast, had a powerful effect on me. He is describing helplessness, and in particular the helplessness of groups. We suggest things to one another. We look to one another. No one wants to be the first. No one wants to wander into that darkness alone.
There is a story I told my children often, and which I have likely related here. I worked for the police department at Berkeley. On some shifts, my radio carried the police traffic (Channel 1). While I was there, the University tried to turn “People’s Park” into something more like a park, with bathrooms, walking trails, and a volleyball court. This of course caused all the fuckups from that era, and their contemporary admirers, to throw nihilistic fits.
At one point, the volleyball court was surrounded by police. Someone with a chainsaw jumped through their lines, and cut down the wooden posts for the nets while all the cops watched them. The radio traffic went something like: “L1, this is S13.” “Go Ahead”. “They are cutting down the posts with a chainsaw”. Pause. “Say again”. “They are cutting down the posts with a chainsaw”. “Well, stop them”. But by then it was done. The perpetrator got away.
Now, I get full well not wanting to confront someone with a chain saw. At the same time, it was their job. They could have had 5 tasers in him within five seconds. But they were paralyzed, or so it has always seemed to me. Nobody wanted to make a decision.
I have always told my kids–be the person who takes action when no one else wants to step forward. Fuck what people think. Make your own call, act on it, and let the chips fall where they may.
Nearly everything I write comes from this place. I have far less interest in reading other peoples books than working out my own. I think the process of contextualizing all ideas within what has come before is perhaps the biggest burden that any academic could face, in the process of trying to do something new and interesting.
Mobs can be paralyzed, and paralyzing. If everyone is looking to their left and their right, and not forward, they get stuck.
And on a deeper psychological level I felt KEENLY my own continuing failures. I set out to, say, to a 24 fast weekly, then fail for one reason or another. I determine to get up at 4:30 and instead sleep in. Often I fail myself.
This is the same as that threshold they faced. Why not walk over it? What is stopping you? Do you know? No spell has been cast, has it? Is someone pointing a gun at you? No, then what is it? You don’t know. I don’t know.
The whole thing impelled me, in a fit of both anxiety and recognition, to print out a picture of Tarthang Tulku, to help me remind myself of what I believe, what my commitments are.
Now, it is not mistaken, I don’t think, to view this as a condemnation of the elites, who feed on the innocent (the sheep), but I think it represents clearly that they, too, are trapped. They are trapped by their own self conceptions, by their felt need to not lose what they have, to avoid risks, to avoid shame. To above all protect what they think they have, and in fact do not have in reality.
The workers lacked that need, and so felt the danger coming on, and avoided it. They were likely not in the church either.
As I have said recently, humility is about releasing the need to defend who and what you are. Disappear, and no one will bother you. Be useless, and be free. It is not a renunciation, but a move towards freedom.
This movie made a deep impact on me. I may buy it and watch it again periodically to remind myself I am free.
So often we build walls to protect ourselves, and wind up imprisoned by them. Be like the wind. Be like the sea. Do not be today who you were yesterday, and do not expect anything to remain tomorrow. Remain both alert and accepting. This is the core of what I think leads to honest spiritual growth.
I doubt very much Bunueal saw this. But some part of him felt it. He simply lacked the tools to move forward, so he contented himself with description. Never confuse description, though, with decision and action. The profound person sees what is next.
It is perhaps not an exaggeration to say that what the 20th century lacked was genuine novelty. On the one hand, conservatives were looking backwards, and on the other the alleged “Progressives” were looking at one another, and mistaking pipe dreams from plans.
Walk into the fucking dark. The worst that will happen is that you will be destroyed. You will certainly be destroyed and caged where you are. This, to my mind, is true nobility.
Be noble.