Since I seem to be “on a tear” with movie criticism and how it relates to fiction and literature, I will continue on this “unstoppable roll” of brainy dialectic that you will drink up like a skid row drunk sopping up the last drops of a bottle of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Kountry Kwencher.
A couple of weeks ago, Wife, Friend of Wife, and I went to see a French movie called “Cache.” The movie opens with an extended, static shot of a Parisian home. Two hours later, the movie ends with an extended, static shot of a Parisian lycee. In between, videotapes were sent of that same Parisian home to the couple that lives there, as well as awings of a beheaded rooster, and a lot of not-groovy flashbacks.
“That happened,” Wife said.
Derrida Does D
We “got” “Cache,” but only in the sense we understood the events on the screen. The movie’s central conceit — who sent those damn videotapes? — is never revealed, at least overtly. Wife and I went home and surfed for answers, and read about 50 different interpretations of what we’d just seen, from the personification of France’s blind, evil treatment of Algerians (OK, I can buy that, being that the characters yakked about this) to the possibility that all the characters are dead and we’ve just witnessed a dream, which, if true, means the filmmaker has an I.Q. of 37.
(Now, I know that each and all French intellectuals will say they understood “Cache” completely, but they’d rather go on a diet of Vegemite than admit otherwise.)
Admittedly, interpretation is not my strong suit. My powers of reading and interpreting literature are as limited as my ability to figure skate, fly an F-15, or cook, a skill of which my talents are so limited that I find it a triumph if I can just make it to the point where I get to fuck up. Like when I manage to burn a vat of boiling water.
And yet…and yet I was an English major, and did pretty damn good. How, you ask? What was Bookfraud’s huge, compelling secret?
Now, listen closely, especially for all of you under the age of 18, and thinking that English could be The College Major For You. This extremely valuable insight that will make your grades rise, cut down on your workload, and has 50% more whitening power than the other leading toothpaste.
Here it is: take a relatively esoteric idea, apply it to literature, and write the same paper about it, over and over (with different professors on different writers, of course). Your academic patrons will love you, because he or she probably has never seen the pairing of, say, subjunctive reality and Aeschylus, or evolutionary psychology and Saul Bellow. And if they have seen such a pairing, they’ll at least think you’re grad student material. Or that you didn’t write a paper that began, “In Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost,’ there is the interesting topic of Satan.”
Me, I rode a horse called Entropy. Entropy is the second law of thermodynamics, which I don’t understand well enough to explain, but that I “found” in just about every great author and work of literature ever written in the English language.
Entropy in Marvell, Marlowe, Donne. Entropy in the sisters Bronte. Entropy in Joyce, Wolfe, Faulkner, and even Hemmingway. Entropy in everyone except Thomas Pynchon, who wrote a story called “Entropy.” Every paper that I wrote containting the word “entropy” in the title got an “A.” Damn, I was smart.
But beware, boys and girls. This doesn’t work with everybody. In particular, watch out for those wacky profs who are in thrall to Really Fucking Smart French Philosophers. (Yes, it’s those French again.)
Take, for example, an English class I took that examined the Oedipus myth through literature, starting with the Famous Original Dad Killer and Mom Diddler himself to Hamlet to Faust and so on. The teacher was a dyed-in-the-wool deconstructionist, which means you analyze all text in minute detail, down to the letter. Being a deconstructionist also means that when you were writing your dissertation, Derrida, Foucault, and a bunch of other French philosophers flew over from Paris and raped you.
This particular professor was a gentle man, soft-spoken and soft-bodied, but he became quite animiated when he got all textual on us. For instance, the first words Hamlet utters are “A little more than kin and less than kind,” a nice pun on his whole messy family situation. Or so I thought. No, the teacher says, the real meaning of that is the difference between “kin” and “kind,” that being the letter “D,” which he drew with a grand flourish on the chalkboard.
And what does “D” indicate? he asked, as if it were ever so obvious. Us teenage, corn-fed Midwesterners tried our best. “Death.” “Denmark.” “Disco.” “Devo.” Nope. The “D,” Professor Softie said, stands for “Deus,” indicating Hamlet’s disconnection between the corporeal of his literal world and that of the spiritual, internal storm that makes him want to kill his uncle and bed his mother.
Oh, of course.
So, the moral of this rambling, pointless typing exercise is (and coming from someone who absolutely loves la France): if you watch a French movie, take a class from a teacher who loves French philosophy, or are considering that vacation in LaCôte d’Azur, just remember one thing. We now call them Freedom Fries.
I LOVE it when teachers do that.
Actually, I once did an entire essay-unfortunately, not for a class-on the meaning of “the”, in regards to books and music.
I started to scare myself, actually.
As one who was an English major so long ago that Derrida was a cloud no bigger than a man’s hand, I really loved this column about how to con the professors. It was years before I realized that my terrific grades in English were proof of only one thing: I had mastered the art of making terrific grades. In the real world, this has a monetary value of $0.00. So much for the value of a college education.
madame d: i loved it, too, when the teacher did that — provided great source material! and you’re starting to scare me, “the,” being the unholy dialectic of “he” and “t,” which stands for “transsexual…”
gailwhite: you got that right about conning the professors. i attributed my strategy at the time to laziness, but now, since my profs really kinda conned me, i don’t feel so bad…my college education was worth every cent i paid off for years — all the resentment i had towards rich kids.
I loved “Cache.” Did you read the review on my blog? I don’t think there was anything to “get” really. The film leaves you to ponder the notion of responsibility…at least that’s what I took away from it.
Who was responsible for sending the tapes? Does that final scene on the school steps offer an answer? Yes, and no. Why does Daniel Auteil’s character refuse to take responsibility for his actions as a child and as an adult? Is it his bourgeois upbringing or is he a racist?
There are so many unanswered questions in “Cache,” and I do believe Michael Haneke is making a political statement about France’s refusal to acknowledge its genocidal ways against the Algerians. I can’t wait for it to come out on DVD so I can see it again.
I LOVE it when teachers do that.
Actually, I once did an entire essay-unfortunately, not for a class-on the meaning of “the”, in regards to books and music.
I started to scare myself, actually.
I LOVE it when teachers do that.
Actually, I once did an entire essay-unfortunately, not for a class-on the meaning of “the”, in regards to books and music.
I started to scare myself, actually.
As one who was an English major so long ago that Derrida was a cloud no bigger than a man’s hand, I really loved this column about how to con the professors. It was years before I realized that my terrific grades in English were proof of only one thing: I had mastered the art of making terrific grades. In the real world, this has a monetary value of $0.00. So much for the value of a college education.
As one who was an English major so long ago that Derrida was a cloud no bigger than a man’s hand, I really loved this column about how to con the professors. It was years before I realized that my terrific grades in English were proof of only one thing: I had mastered the art of making terrific grades. In the real world, this has a monetary value of $0.00. So much for the value of a college education.
madame d: i loved it, too, when the teacher did that — provided great source material! and you’re starting to scare me, “the,” being the unholy dialectic of “he” and “t,” which stands for “transsexual…”
gailwhite: you got that right about conning the professors. i attributed my strategy at the time to laziness, but now, since my profs really kinda conned me, i don’t feel so bad…my college education was worth every cent i paid off for years — all the resentment i had towards rich kids.
madame d: i loved it, too, when the teacher did that — provided great source material! and you’re starting to scare me, “the,” being the unholy dialectic of “he” and “t,” which stands for “transsexual…”
gailwhite: you got that right about conning the professors. i attributed my strategy at the time to laziness, but now, since my profs really kinda conned me, i don’t feel so bad…my college education was worth every cent i paid off for years — all the resentment i had towards rich kids.
I loved “Cache.” Did you read the review on my blog? I don’t think there was anything to “get” really. The film leaves you to ponder the notion of responsibility…at least that’s what I took away from it.
Who was responsible for sending the tapes? Does that final scene on the school steps offer an answer? Yes, and no. Why does Daniel Auteil’s character refuse to take responsibility for his actions as a child and as an adult? Is it his bourgeois upbringing or is he a racist?
There are so many unanswered questions in “Cache,” and I do believe Michael Haneke is making a political statement about France’s refusal to acknowledge its genocidal ways against the Algerians. I can’t wait for it to come out on DVD so I can see it again.
I loved “Cache.” Did you read the review on my blog? I don’t think there was anything to “get” really. The film leaves you to ponder the notion of responsibility…at least that’s what I took away from it.
Who was responsible for sending the tapes? Does that final scene on the school steps offer an answer? Yes, and no. Why does Daniel Auteil’s character refuse to take responsibility for his actions as a child and as an adult? Is it his bourgeois upbringing or is he a racist?
There are so many unanswered questions in “Cache,” and I do believe Michael Haneke is making a political statement about France’s refusal to acknowledge its genocidal ways against the Algerians. I can’t wait for it to come out on DVD so I can see it again.
I have to stop reading your blog–I feel pretty sure that laughing until you have a coughing attack is not the healthiest of behaviors. Then again, maybe it is.
Hmmm, did you notice the ambiguity in my statements above? And why did I start that sentence with “Hmmmm”? On the surface, one could interpret it to mean the sound of a person musing to him/herself. How quaint that would be! Perhaps, on the other hand, it’s the beginning of a Buddhist chant, signifying the writer’s inner turmoil over the outward expression of amusement. It might also be a mirroring of the individuals listed in the original post: Hmmmm = Him Him Him (No females were listed–no Cixous, no Beauvoir.) Or, as chaos theory might explain, the seemingly random expression betrays my need to go hem my daughter’s pants rather than spend time blogging.
I know not what it means. But, as the New Critics would tell us, it means what it means. No need to ask me, for it has an internal consistency all its own. It is your job to find it.
LOL @ EP, laughing till you start coughing is a pre requistite here!
Now lookie ere BF, there’s nothing wrong with a diet of vegemite ones whole life, infact, it serves many purposes! Be careful, you may just recieve a case in the mail
collin: actually, i did like cache, and it was extraordinarily thought-provoking. but i did find many things obscure, and the final scene — when the algerian’s son and the frenchman’s son meet in the bottom left hand corner of the screen — it just made me wonder even more…and what was the whole point about the story of the dog and the birthday? more to think about; like you, i will see it again…
ep: i hope you’re taking an inhaler for that coughing fit..reading your contextual analysis, i feel that i have unleashed a monster…help…stop the deconstructing beast! but very, very funny. i guess it takes an english professor to understand an english professor. him him him! it means what it means!
my favorite story comes from a friend who got a phd. in english at a big school. in a class, a fellow grad student, remarking on some verse, said, “this poem deconstructs itself.”
michelle: i knew i shouldn’t have mentioned vegemite when there was an aussie lurking around. i ate some kangaroo and walaby when i was in your fair land. not bad, tasted like chicken. but your seafood rocks like nobody’s business. why eat vegemite when you got lobster and sea bugs and fish galore in queensland?
I have to stop reading your blog–I feel pretty sure that laughing until you have a coughing attack is not the healthiest of behaviors. Then again, maybe it is.
Hmmm, did you notice the ambiguity in my statements above? And why did I start that sentence with “Hmmmm”? On the surface, one could interpret it to mean the sound of a person musing to him/herself. How quaint that would be! Perhaps, on the other hand, it’s the beginning of a Buddhist chant, signifying the writer’s inner turmoil over the outward expression of amusement. It might also be a mirroring of the individuals listed in the original post: Hmmmm = Him Him Him (No females were listed–no Cixous, no Beauvoir.) Or, as chaos theory might explain, the seemingly random expression betrays my need to go hem my daughter’s pants rather than spend time blogging.
I know not what it means. But, as the New Critics would tell us, it means what it means. No need to ask me, for it has an internal consistency all its own. It is your job to find it.
I have to stop reading your blog–I feel pretty sure that laughing until you have a coughing attack is not the healthiest of behaviors. Then again, maybe it is.
Hmmm, did you notice the ambiguity in my statements above? And why did I start that sentence with “Hmmmm”? On the surface, one could interpret it to mean the sound of a person musing to him/herself. How quaint that would be! Perhaps, on the other hand, it’s the beginning of a Buddhist chant, signifying the writer’s inner turmoil over the outward expression of amusement. It might also be a mirroring of the individuals listed in the original post: Hmmmm = Him Him Him (No females were listed–no Cixous, no Beauvoir.) Or, as chaos theory might explain, the seemingly random expression betrays my need to go hem my daughter’s pants rather than spend time blogging.
I know not what it means. But, as the New Critics would tell us, it means what it means. No need to ask me, for it has an internal consistency all its own. It is your job to find it.
LOL @ EP, laughing till you start coughing is a pre requistite here!
Now lookie ere BF, there’s nothing wrong with a diet of vegemite ones whole life, infact, it serves many purposes! Be careful, you may just recieve a case in the mail
LOL @ EP, laughing till you start coughing is a pre requistite here!
Now lookie ere BF, there’s nothing wrong with a diet of vegemite ones whole life, infact, it serves many purposes! Be careful, you may just recieve a case in the mail
collin: actually, i did like cache, and it was extraordinarily thought-provoking. but i did find many things obscure, and the final scene — when the algerian’s son and the frenchman’s son meet in the bottom left hand corner of the screen — it just made me wonder even more…and what was the whole point about the story of the dog and the birthday? more to think about; like you, i will see it again…
ep: i hope you’re taking an inhaler for that coughing fit..reading your contextual analysis, i feel that i have unleashed a monster…help…stop the deconstructing beast! but very, very funny. i guess it takes an english professor to understand an english professor. him him him! it means what it means!
my favorite story comes from a friend who got a phd. in english at a big school. in a class, a fellow grad student, remarking on some verse, said, “this poem deconstructs itself.”
collin: actually, i did like cache, and it was extraordinarily thought-provoking. but i did find many things obscure, and the final scene — when the algerian’s son and the frenchman’s son meet in the bottom left hand corner of the screen — it just made me wonder even more…and what was the whole point about the story of the dog and the birthday? more to think about; like you, i will see it again…
ep: i hope you’re taking an inhaler for that coughing fit..reading your contextual analysis, i feel that i have unleashed a monster…help…stop the deconstructing beast! but very, very funny. i guess it takes an english professor to understand an english professor. him him him! it means what it means!
my favorite story comes from a friend who got a phd. in english at a big school. in a class, a fellow grad student, remarking on some verse, said, “this poem deconstructs itself.”
michelle: i knew i shouldn’t have mentioned vegemite when there was an aussie lurking around. i ate some kangaroo and walaby when i was in your fair land. not bad, tasted like chicken. but your seafood rocks like nobody’s business. why eat vegemite when you got lobster and sea bugs and fish galore in queensland?
michelle: i knew i shouldn’t have mentioned vegemite when there was an aussie lurking around. i ate some kangaroo and walaby when i was in your fair land. not bad, tasted like chicken. but your seafood rocks like nobody’s business. why eat vegemite when you got lobster and sea bugs and fish galore in queensland?