David Huth, I love you, for frantically driving around town in an attempt at preventing me from doing something that I would never ever do. All I wanted to do was end Granfalloons, not myself. I was foolish and brazen, not suicidal.
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Right or wrong, Budd Dwyer, I pray for your soul.
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It's true, suicide fascinates me, but the act itself is not for me, except metaphorically insofar as I've adopted it to understand any act of Christian corporal mortification.
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untitled
self
murder only happens once
except you die to death
given in the blood
die daily, daily die saith
the minister of life kill
self
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I know this probably bothers Brandon and many others, but here it is...
*I trust Michael Haneke*
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The Seventh Continent was Haneke's first feature film. It was screened at Cannes, gaining him a broader audience than his native Austria. The Seventh Continent is particularly "about" a middle class Austrian family living a normal late 20th century middle class Austrian life. In its particulars, it speaks broadly (I don't quite dare say "universally") to a human condition prevalent in modern affluent countries.
Anomie.
Really, The Seventh Continent is "about" me. It may be about you.
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What to make of a film that reveals so little of itself? One might first turn to the director. In interviews, Haneke has in turn emphasised his intention to leave the work of interpretation to the spectator: “I try to make anti-psychological films with characters who are less characters than projection surfaces for the sensibilities of the viewer; blank spaces force the spectator to bring his own thoughts and feelings to the film. Because that is what makes the viewer open for the sensitivity of the character.” Haneke, in other words, goes to extremes in withholding information in order to compel the spectator to “think with” and “feel with” the film, instead of simply consuming it.
It is this withholding of information that makes The Seventh Continent so hard to discuss with someone who hasn't seen it. Any descriptive phrases that I may use involve some interpretive act on my part. I found this out the hard way when I tried to talk about the movie with Pete on the way back from Crocodile Lyle's.
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I can't remember who wrote it, but somewhere I remember reading that all film criticism is really just autobiography. This is much more the case with Haneke's films. Unless I stick closely to technical details, there is nothing that I can write about The Seventh Continent that won't reveal more about myself than the film. So, I won't even try.
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Often, I recognize death and disconnectedness within myself. I'm among the world and people and communities that surround me, but feel apart from them at the same time. I don't know how to feel properly. I can go through the motions of human connections, but I seldom feel connected. I'm disconnected from People.
I mentally assent to the idea of a sunset being beautiful (or any number of natural wonders), but experiencing a sunset doesn't move me or strike me with awe. I'm disconnected from Nature.
Any professional work that I can contemplate being involved in and qualified for seems worthless and empty to me. I'm disconnected from Meaningful Tasks.
I'm unhappy in Faith. I have none. But, I act as I do. Because otherwise I might cease to act.
I fail in relationships (I withdraw or pretend). I want to respect Nature (but I'm happier in a dark Cinema). I want work that provides me with meaning (I settle for finding some sort of spark in shared suffering). There is no solace for me in Faith or in Doubt (To you I call, O LORD my Rock; do not turn a deaf ear to me. For if you remain silent, I will be like those who have gone down to the pit.)
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It is no accident that Autism is one of the chief plagues of our time.
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Herzog said, "Somehow I know the hearts of men."
Somehow, Haneke knows my heart, dark as it is.
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Abigail, after watching much of the middle to end of The Seventh Continent noted that Haneke's art and vision are "unbalanced."
Fair enough, but I share in this imbalance.
And I think that, deep down, Haneke is (or is at the very least always striving to maybe be) a humanist. At least, that's what I'm projecting on him at the moment because that's what I'm striving for.
Haneke is not a nihilist. I know this because he rejects the suicides of his protagonists. I know this because of the very real fact that Haneke keeps on living and creating.
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I don't know how to live or why to live (I have a head full of facts that I assent to, but my heart is cold), but I, too, daily choose to live. And I do what I can to act alive and to pass as one of the living. But, still, I have this nagging feeling that I'm one among many walking dead.
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For you are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people's bones and all uncleanness.
The repeated imagery of purification and cleansing further reflect the characters' figurative attempts to transcend the banality of their existence: the car wash, the episodes of George bathing, the rainstorm that pervades the second chapter (1988) of the film. Ironically, as the Schober family collectively strives to shed their empty and meaningless lives, they retreat further into the void of oblivion - disconnected from the physical reality of their oppressive environment - towards the isolating landscape of the indefinable seventh continent.
5 comments:
I told you it was a bleak rejection of modern living and not a triumphant one after I predicted their joint suicides. Having only seen one half of one film, I'm not qualified to say anything about the imbalance of Haneke's vision. The context of the comment was my imagining Haneke standing side by side with Herzog (of whom you know I'm also not knowledgeable enough to talk about).
I loved Encounters at the End of the World and, weeks later, its images and narration still jump around in my head. While showing the sometimes bleakness of the human condition and this world, Herzog also managed to celebrate the absurdity of creatures who stuff themselves into duffel bags and who have jamming sessions with fish. Then after offering up some of the world's ugliness, he silences us at the end with its piercing beauty.
That's the balance I saw in Herzog that was lacking in my small taste of Haneke, but that's not to say that Haneke is a flawed director. It seemed like he chose to be the voice for lives lived on the edge of one side. The Seventh Continent certainly reflects truth, but it neglects Truth.
I dunno.
With limited exposure to either director, I suppose I'd say that Herzog seems more generous with humanity. More gracious. He shows us our ugliness but doesn't neglect to also show the foibles and surprising beauty. Haneke shows very real ugliness and despair, but he limits his stories to that aspect of the human condition. Yes, Seventh Continent is about me, but, God help me, that's not the whole.
And that's the only part of this post I can respond to, I guess. What do you want for breakfast?
Bacon.
Always Bacon.
Every day, Bacon.
Bacon.
I feel like I'm eavesdropping after reading your entry and these responses. That movie threw you for some kinda loop, eh? But would you recommend it? Encounters is on my short list of films to see. I've only seen Grizzly Man and Incident at Loch Ness (which I doubt is typical of his work), but I would like to see more. I'd also like to read your response to your wife's comments (the ones not having to do with breakfast). Could you, would you oblige me?
I knew I recognized Haneke's name. I saw The Piano Teacher awhile back. It didn't make a huge impression on me, but it was decent, I suppose. Pretty bleak, as I remember, with a not-very-likeable protagonist (despite how much you could sympathize with her lot in life).
Reading this post feels a bit like eavesdropping. Your transparency is very admirable and your bacon poem should be the envy of Amy Lowell.
I remember Granfalloons and that Dwyer video. For years I wondered if it was a genuine suicide. Part of me wishes I never discovered the truth. Dave Huth is a name that takes me back. The Sociology of Images class that he and Perkins taught impacted me more than any course I've taken since.
As to corporal mortification, I see that as the antithesis of suicide. Penitents mortify the flesh to unite themselves to Christ's suffering. To end one's life is to end one's ability to voluntarily embrace the way of the cross. Suicides seek to end pain while Penitents seek to extend it. We are not about self death but, paradoxically, we are very much about self dying--it is the subtle difference between the simple present and progressive present verb tenses.
I sympathize with your sentiments on disconnectedness. I think the culture's desire to keep strict boundaries between things is perhaps the largest mental impediment to a healthy worldview. For my money the only ones who are able to stay firmly grounded in ultimate reality and thus keep their heads sufficiently above ideology are the mystics.
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