castle of illusion |
the password... for the house? |
Don DeLillo is a writer that many in the SF community regard as “one of us,” or at any rate a second cousin once removed. And I wouldn’t dispute that; his novel Ratner’s Star shows a genuine affinity for science fictional ambience, and I think he’s had a strong and salutary influence on many speculative fiction writers, myself included. But his story here, “Human Moments in World War III” (1983), merely drapes itself in the trappings of science fiction, beginning with that vaguely Ballardian title. The story takes place in a space station on which two astronauts go through their routines as, below them, an apocalyptic war breaks out. But really, there is no central reason for the story to take place in space. It could just as well be set on a submarine, or in a nuclear missile silo. Even the war is secondary: or, rather, symbolic. DeLillo is following the second course set forth above: he’s made a trip to the Curiosity Shoppe. Perhaps that’s too harsh; what I mean is that DeLillo doesn’t take any of it literally; the settings in space and in the future are not important to him in themselves but only as vehicles to transmit that certain feeling of anomie and absurd estrangement so central to all his work. This is true of Ballard as well. But here’s the difference. For DeLillo, the present is like something out of science fiction. For Ballard, the present already is science fiction, only most of us don’t recognize it yet. For DeLillo, it’s a simile. For Ballard, reality.
That obsession is laid out in staggering grandeur in Taschen’s new 23-pound tome Stanley Kubrick’s Napoleon: The Greatest Movie Never Made—a book as epic (indeed, it nearly is a coffee table) as Kubrick’s stillborn film, with a price ($700) to match. You have to see it to believe it, which is appropriate when you consider Kubrick’s obsession. “Stanley was besotted with this story,” says Jan Harlan, Kubrick’s brother-in-law and producer during the latter part of his career. “He was a political beast and fascinated with human folly and vanity. Napoleon was the perfect study object for that.”
Raymond Carver, “On Writing”
The Avengers
Two-toned shoes as harbingers of sociopathy: Farley Granger & Robert Walker in Strangers on a Train (1951, dir. Alfred Hitchcock)
“Art essentially has nothing to do with morality, convention or moralizing. I find the public passion for justice quite boring and artificial, for...
“If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”
— George Orwell, 1984
“Why is it a surprise to find that people other than ourselves are able to tell lies?”
— Alice Munro, Something I’ve Been Meaning to Tell You
In his droll 1989 book Making Meaning, the American scholar David Bordwell makes fun of a standard procedure in discussing film. Let us take...
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Still via Vampyr (1932, dir. Carl Theodor Dreyer)