Sense of wonder

A second look revealed that beyond its stunning visual experience, “Avatar” is a philosophic, and yet candid, interpretation of our duality between the reality of science and technology, and fundamental aspiration to love and sense of wonder.

“DON’T LOOK, watch” said Ruskin, so as I returned to Angers for a second look at James Cameron’s “Avatar”, I had the firm intention to observe, analyse and understand why this film is so popular, and the reasons of this success. That I was moderately successful is a fact, as I got carried away again.

The first time I saw “Avatar” the stunning landscape of Pandora, the home world of the Na’vi, really impressed me with its breathtaking floating mountains, formidable trees and enlightened forests at night. The scenes of flight, as the hero is mastering the skill of flying his banshee, are a marvellous moment of cinema. The romantic love between Neytiri and Jack Scully will certainly blossom into romance worldwide, as the excitement and adventure of their relationship are so charming. Yes, the journey of a life can begin with a smile, I know that.

“Avatar” belongs to the category of initiatory films, like “Jeremiah Johnson”, “Dancing with Wolves” and “A Man Called Horse”. I believe that “A Man Called Horse” is emotionally stronger than “Avatar” because the picture of the Indian tribe is cruel and realistic, as the survival in those mountains is tough. “Avatar” is a bit lacking when it comes to the Na’vi culture as I believe that the survivability of the tribe in the dangerous forests of Pandora would make their character both tougher and gentler. To me the Na’vi remain abstract and spiritual, not real. They could be the gentle inhabitants of Tahiti when the “Bounty” arrived.

James Cameron has chosen “Avatar” and not “Pandora”, or “Save the Na’vi!”. And I hope that there will be no pornographic attempt with “In the Na’vi” (not Navy, mind you.) As I stated before, porn industry is invading too many subjects, especially films. Back to the subject of “Avatar”, which is more healthy and hopeful. “Avatar” is a kind of modern Frankenstein being, the result of a genetic experiment to mix human and Na’vi DNA. Perhaps I missed the point in my earlier reviews of this film, exactly like critics thought that “The Sea Wolf” was a romantic story, while it was eminently philosophic.

I think that James Cameron is a man of paradoxes, as his films are filled with soldiers and mercenaries, but eventually only the warriors with an ideal do prevail, and technology is opposed to the wonder of Nature, but at the same time technology is the tool unlocking the Pandora box. James Cameron is like a promising child, whose innocent dreams are filled with the wonders of science and technology (O the Stanford T-shirt of Grace in the film!) and the belief in the fundamental values of Man, like courage, love and the sense of wonder.

It is precisely the sense of wonder which is so appealing to me in “Avatar”. Machines of war and destruction are so realistically rendered, like icons of destruction. Soldiers are superhuman, tough, courageous and enduring. Women are graceful and loving, but also dangerous and fighting when they have to. Think of the chopper pilot, Trudy, who is so cute and fierce.

The Na’vi are so integrated into Pandora’s harmony, both physically and spiritually, that they are not interested with the things mankind has to offer. The Na’vi are keeping to themselves, and don’t let strangers in, because they feel that humans are so filled with knowledge, violence and belief in science and technology, that they have become ill, or mad. The indifference of the Na’vi is one of fundamental difference of way of like and philosophy. While humans are educated and formatted the Na’vi practise a life long learning of the marvellous complexity of their home world. Where the humans send bulldozers, the Na’vi tread delicately.

As the film is closing on a rebirth, I think it would be interesting to think about the consequences of that battle for the Na’vi. Will Jack Scully remain a warrior in time of peace, and prepare his tribe to the probable return of humans on Pandora?  Or will he melt into the Eiwa Oneness of harmony and non-intervention, now that Eiwa has proven its ability to defend itself against predators? We shall see that in a sequel as I am sure that “Avatar” is the beginning of a new era for the next decade.

On a closing note I would like to talk about the truly revolutionary aspect of this film, which is to remotely pilot a living being by thought. That I was not shocked or troubled with this does prove how used I have become to the notion of virtual reality within the context of games. First person shooters and RPGs are games where you are piloting a being in a virtual world, and the better the game, the more you feel part of the virtual world of it. When Neytiri admires the fearlessness of Jack Scully, it is possible to think that Jack is safe in his laboratory, but this would miss the point of the fundamental empathy of Jack with his “Avatar”. He is his Avatar.

The idea of living a second life in a virtual world is not new, since “Tron” or “Matrix”. With “Avalon” I think it was the first time when reality was considered secondary, even irrelevant to the point of confusing the senses. And it is also the first time when it was stated that those venturing too far would not return. “Avatar” is going further with a seminal closing sequence, which has the power of Stanley Kubrick’s “2001, A Space Odyssey” when the human being ventures to touch the Monolith and is born again as a Star Child.

“Avatar” has multiple interpretations, but its true value is one of Hope in the fundamental values of mankind, which are not greed or destruction, but love and sense of wonder.

Eternity in a nutshell

A review of “Groundhog Day” by Harold Ramis

A weatherman is caught in a time capsule and condemned to relive the same day over and over, in spite of his multiple attempts to escape while trying to seduce the lady of his dreams.

The synopsis does not bring justice to the quality of the film and talent of Bill Murray. Harold Ramis, the director of “Ghostbusters”, is a man of paradox who likes to juggle with reality to the great entertainment of his public, and highlight the common miracles and tragedies of our every day life.

“Groundhog Day” is a film with unexpected depth, as the farce is cruel and the redemption, both inventive and touching. Bill Murray has the facial expression of a fox terrier about to pee, and he is irresistible. And we really share with him the agony of this modern Sisyphus, trying to cope with the absurdity of living the same day, over and over, without being able to modify destiny.

What Harold Ramis wants to tell us is that happiness and purpose in life do come as a reward to what we give to the world. Bill Murray will use and abuse the seemingly endless possibilities of living without future, from the hilarious kidnapping of the groundhog, to the helpless seduction of the woman he loves. But it is only when he realises the potential of his predicament that his journey truly begins.

This film is about the power I have, you have, and everyone has to transform his life into something marvellous and meaningful. I think of that transformation as nothing less dramatic than a revolution of values. Copernicus told us that Earth was not the centre of the universe. I believe it was important to understand we are part of Universe, not the centre of it.

Bill Murray is transforming the little city hosting a groundhog into a thriving community of people. So moving it is when he is trying to save that old man who is living on the street, and day after day, he will fail to save his life, as it was his destiny to die. What can be more awakening to the fragility of life than witnessing the same person die, over and over?

Personally I have seen that film many times, and yet I don’t feel trapped in a time capsule. I have seen it as a comedy, partly romantic, but tonight I watched with the eyes of a man who has seen death, and is coping with it. And the film has touched me, as it is a true lesson of life.

I think that there are very few films who can both bring me to tears and smiles. “Groundhog Day” is a comedy, but it is really a story of redemption and love. It is because Bill Murray does understand that he can change the world even for a single day, without expecting something in return, that he becomes a man. I think of Stanislaw Lem wonderful sentence: “He waited for the return of a cruel miracle without expecting it.”

As a way of life, it is a troubling lesson, and I am very sensitive to the idea of living the present and trying to get the most of it, without thinking about the future. Bill Murray does it when he begins to enjoy doing it, without thinking about doing it. I have felt the same marvellous feeling when planting trees and caring for my mother, or my dogs. It is a blessing to stop thinking about the future and enjoy the present in a meaningful way.

“Groundhog Day” is a fascinating love story. Beyond the sad endeavour to seduce a woman with her preferred dishes and drinks, Harold Ramis tells the story of the miracle of love. When Bill Murray is playing in the snow with Andie McDowell, there is that fleeting moment of eternity as he tries to get close, and relive the magic of it. Because he is trying to replicate happy moments, he is incapable of living the present. No comedy since Ernst Lubitsch “Heaven Can Wait” demonstrated so well the alchemy of love, and the grace of unexpected moments of truth.

It is a cruel miracle to relive the same day, over and over. It could be the definition of purgatory, as Hell is perhaps endless repetition of the same task, without giving yourself to it. “Groundhog Day” could be the comic variant of the nightmarish “Jacob’s Ladder” by Adrian Lyne. The time capsule of Bill Murray is symbolic of our condition of human beings, trapped in our destiny, but able to move mountains and change the course of history, say when we are in love. Which I am, lucky me.

Thank you.

Four brothers and a funeral

A review of “Four Brothers” by John Singleton

Imagine a family without a father, but with four kids adopted by a loving mother. And now think of her being murdered by a local gangster and the four brothers united to avenge her death.

Welcome to Detroit, Bro.

It is not Los Angeles, but Detroit suburbs in winter. It is Thanksgiving and it could be a peaceful time, but for the duty to look for answers. Why would anyone care to kill such a charming old lady? Is it a tragic mistake, or is there a hidden purpose? Answers seem to point at a local gangster with connections in the police and city council.

John Singleton has the gentle touch of a Chester Himes when it comes to describing the turbulent life and revenge of those four petty gangsters taking on the local big boss. It is a family of United Colors, where Latino girlfriends are cruising in the stairs while boys have a shower or a shit parlour.

The police is corrupt and inefficient, but for a black inspector, with whom the brothers used to play hockey on the streets. It is not the dark picture of a classic tragedy by James Grey as in the splendid “We Own The Night”. It has the Southern drawl of Harlem and the New Orleans. Family is about food, but without the spaghetti gore of Francis Ford Coppola.

The revenge will be bloody of course, and tragic for the little innocent brother, who is used to be consulted when it comes to homosexuality and various penis related issues. The local big boss will take a cold plunge in the icy waters of Detroit, but without too much fuss. Detroit is a city with a past of unions and big factories, and it is worth recalling that one should always be careful with his employees. Don’t expect Scorsese drama in sophisticated New-York, or James Ellroy madness in L.A.

The joy of walking faster and singing of running

How I am learning to think by myself and feel like a human being at 40

As I leafed through my older blog entries, something struck me as odd, and this is the power of ‘Me’ versus the academic ‘One’. In other words, it is the experience of ‘Me’ as single human being, part of mankind as ‘Us’, versus the educated thinking of ‘One’, as expression of a collective work, or culture.

I think that blogging is about ‘Me’, but as I am writing I feel closer to the ‘Us’ as collectivity of readers, fellow bloggers, and just the person I will meet today in the city. There is sublimation of the ‘Me’ to join up with a patchwork of identities. Now if we compare that with the education I receive, I see how divergent it is.

French education is about the ‘We May Say’ or ‘One May Believe’ based on culture, teaching, real or virtual experiences brought by reading, thinking, listening, even parents. The education I received at school was about learning to think, but with the words of others, or within the boundaries of others, the Great Thinkers, Those with Knowledge.

If I think of Descartes, I think of a man, who cleared the table of everything we were taught to think or believe, to recreate the world, and come to the Cogito Ergo Sum, I think hence I am. And I believe that with writing, it is the same. There is something similar to unlearning and seize the detail where we were taught to think as a generality. O I know it is not an impressive discovery, but I feel deeply satisfied to understand that I have to begin to think by myself.

I will try to explain what I believe is to think by myself. And perhaps I will unlock the secret of my anxiety as writer and lover. I have been taught to think and act according to guidelines, moral and reasonable ones. I think it is necessary to begin with that, as a child does learn to walk. But there comes a time when he must learn to run, and the child must do it by himself.

I have read a lot of books during those twenty years of exile, and seen a lot of films. I feel bloated with the knowledge of so many lives and creations. My anxiety must be rooted in the desire to break through and run. There is the extreme of running too soon, and keep falling, and the extreme of walking without letting go with the energy and joy of the run.

It is odd, I keep thinking of me as a walker, but indeed I am jogging, and beginning to run. Yes, I believe that all started a few years ago when I realised that I had the power to do and change things, I mean big things, my life for instance. For instance, if I am writing, it is because I decided to. And if I am in love with a woman, it is because I wanted it.

Life and love don’t happen by themselves, I think I had to deliver life and love, through my experiences, and failures, and there is suffering involved in that process. Fundamentally it means that I began to walk by myself, and I have attempted to run, too. O I keep falling, but I get up, and continue running, and it is like “The Chariots of Fire”, I keep laughing.

All began in 1995 with the seminal work of “Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance”. I realised back then that I failed to grow, not because I was afraid to fail, but because I believed I could not do it. And there are things I cannot do, yet, like trusting myself with my own melody, but I am learning to hum, and perhaps one day I will sing, too.

To think by myself is to trust myself to walk. Oddly, I have never thought of failing, I mean failure was never the thing which prevented me of doing, but curiously I used to think that I was not to be rewarded for what I am and what I did. I was a man who had lost faith in the goodness of life. And it is the love of a woman who told me that I was wrong, and had the power to illuminate and give life.

There is that Aretha Franklin song “You Make Me Feel Like A Woman”. Yes, the love of a woman makes me feel like a man, like a human being. And I feel young, and strong again, as I am, smiling to people, and getting smiled at. It is good to know that even at 40 there is something like being 16 again, as everything seems possible, knowing that I as a human being have the power to join and add my voice to the Song.

Time to get running now in real, part of my objective to make 7 kilometres under 35 minutes.

Thank you for reading this little story. I know someone who begins with the end of my stories, always. So this is my smile to that lovely person.

The levelling of my sexual life

Why I believe that pornography is intrusive, offensive and damaging my sexual life

It was a rainy Wednesday of October 1996 as I invited my friend, Mr. Christopher Burton, Oxford 1931 and Head of English studies at Catholic University of Angers, to see the film of Milos Forman, “The People versus Larry Flynt”.

Later as we were leaving the movie theatre, Christopher approached me and asked why on Earth, there was use for nudity in that film. And I was at a loss for an explanation. Of course, the movie was about a pornographic magazine editor, but nonetheless I found he had made a good point.

When I think of eroticism I believe there is nothing as erotic as the love scene at the beginning of “Excalibur” by John Boorman. Not only is the girl beautiful, and she is the daughter of John Boorman in real life, but sex is performed with animal strength. And I think it is beautiful when Merlin stops and turns his head as if to listen, while miles away, in that dark castle, there is orgasm. Yes, the heir of the King is there. That is erotic, meaningful and beautiful.

There is nobility in nudity and sexuality. Of course, it is the way lovers have to communicate intimately. And for the time being, this is the way babies are made.

But there is a trend of eroticism and plain pornography, which is sterile and not even entertaining. Think of Sylvester Stallone with Sharon Stone under the shower of that hotel of L.A. If that is erotic, then really we have a different idea of eroticism. It is ridiculous, and what a waste of hot water.

HBO “Rome” series has pornographic content, but it is so innocent and integrated in the story line that I don’t understand how people could have made such a fuss.

To illustrate what I mean with dirty stuff, there is a French movie, I say movie, not film, because it is not worth that name, and there is a scene when the girl explains to Fabrice Luccini that she has another lover, because he is having anal sex with her, and that it is like coffee and milk.

No nudity is shown, but only a pervert could make up such a dialogue. And believe me, the actress is blushing during the scene. The French film directors have a problem with sexuality. Please read my review of “La Discrète” to understand what a good French film director understands with sexuality.

Even worse pornography has become more and more violent, and there are things on the Internet, which should be banned and prosecuted. I am not talking about watching a beautiful girl naked, even if it is so sad, as it is only an image, but say, the beauty of a woman has inspired so many masterpieces. But that pornography is awful. It is hell.

In France television talk shows you have porn actors and actresses talking about their job. I am not prude, but I mean, if you happen to watch a few minutes of their movies, it is really bad, mean and shocking.

Of course I am not saying that people who watch porn are bad, and Milos Forman made his point when he said that we could watch a nuclear bomb fall upon Japan without blinking, but would cry out in anger, if we see two people making love online.

Well.

I personally am sick, I mean really sick, when I watch a movie with people getting blown away. I used to like war movies, I hate them now. Exactly like I used to track some nice girls online, who were definitely not prude about displaying their charms. But now, we have gone too far, and I am sick with pornography. As a lover, I feel ashamed and hurt that women have to do that for money, exactly like I feel ashamed to see young girls having sex on the streets for a few dollars.

There are limits, and I think we have crossed the lines. Now it is really a matter of human rights. Pornography has a destructive effect on how a man perceives a woman, and vice versa.

I am not talking about prostitution, but as I was sitting on my cot in Riga, I leafed through a magazine, which was full of erotic online services. And the girls were really nice. I admire the courage of prostitutes, as they are servicing what is not working in men’s psychology. Perhaps they are avoiding tragedies at home.

But above all, there is nothing manly to come to a girl with money, and pay for a few minutes of what? Illusion, warmth? Romantic people think it is bad, perhaps we should say, that it is practical. Nevertheless, it is not erotic.

I have planted trees because I had the vision of a forest. I think that making love to the woman you love is like planting a seed. Nothing comes close to that.

Agora and the metastasis of Christianity

How Christianity used public open spaces to metastasise throughout the Roman Empire and evict secular authorities from power

Alejandro Amenabar’s “Agora” illustrates the decline of the Roman Empire, but also the metastasis of Christianity in urban centres of the Empire. The fragmentation of power between the Provinces and the Prefects only made it easier for local opportunities to grab power.

Roman Emperors embraced Christian religion because it provided them with a large resource of manpower and gold, both being instrumental to power. But they underestimated the power of the Christian church, whose purpose was to establish itself as Imperial religion in Rome, and eventually to rule the Empire.

Only Julian the Apostate had the courage to reverse the destructive influence of the Christian religion on the Roman Empire. Alas, he was killed before he could complete his ambitious reforms.

There are remarkable facts to illustrate the disintegration of the Roman Empire, which had begun with Octavian of the Julii.

• The military force of the Roman Empire had been multiplied by ten between the period of the Caesars and the late Emperors.
• That military force comprised veteran frontier legions, and provincial troops, which were corrupt and the instrument of extortion of the Prefect.
• The rural landscape of the Empire has radically changed as more and more power and wealth was in the hands of very few Senators.
• One Senator of Rome is said to have over 2 million slaves, during the 4th AD.
• Fiscal bankruptcy of the Empire was due to the crushing cost of military forces, and lack of revenue due to Senators avoiding income tax.

In “Agora” we notice how the Christians use the distribution of food to the poor as a mean of propaganda. This is exactly what happens today in poor suburbs of Egypt as local Muslim authorities use charity to propaganda purpose.

Cities had grown from the very large number of free citizens, who could not make a decent living in rural areas and smaller towns. The Prefect of Africa reportedly used his legions to extort money from towns and cities.

Hence we see that the fragility of the Roman Empire was a combination of internal factors due to corruption, agriculture crisis and fiscal bankruptcy.

Rome used to be strong as its population was largely made of free men and women. Business and agriculture ensured good living conditions. And the State had thus steady income, strong population to serve in the military and relatively fair distribution of economic wealth.

Even if the Roman Empire had to rely on sporadic wars to entertain its legions, the prevailing conditions of peace, known as the Pax Romana, favoured economic growth and prosperity among the citizens of the Empire.

The Christian religion used the open public spaces of the cities to attract attention. This is very important to understand the movie. The Christian religion was the first religion, which could attract both the poor and the rich, the masters and the slaves. Exactly like Orestes in the film, secular authorities tried to play the game of the Christians by converting, without understanding that Christians aimed for total power.

There is a sad irony to the triumph of the Paraballani. The formidable military power of the Goths was also founded on Christianity, as their warlords had been converted to access key situations in the Empire.

It is interesting to compare the very different way Christianity and Islam developed and prospered. If Christianity is the religion of a decaying Empire, using its organs as means to gain control of a feeble body, Islam was like a fire, which expanded itself from Medina to France. Islam converted tribesmen and nomads, while Christianity converted the plebe of the cities in a declining Empire.

N.B.

These are a few modest notes and comments I have written as a follow-up to my review of the film “Agora”. Those remarks may be wrong, and I apologise if I have hurt the religious belief of sincere people. It was not my intention. Those thoughts are expression of my personal feelings only. Thank you.

Troubled waters

The business of online romance is thriving on the desire to find the ideal partner for life. But the going is tough between dream and reality.

PRELIMINARY NOTE TO THE READER

Reading that post I feel I have been too harsh and authoritative, well, let’s say arrogant. I have used eHarmony and met marvellous people there. I have tried to explain my sadness of seeing so many great persons with so much to offer, sending a bottle into the sea. Why have we come to this that we need to meet online? I will try to answer that question in a later post. Thank you.

ONLINE dating is like Google search engine. It has the advantages of its drawbacks. It is popular, powerful and quick, but also heavily biased and making money out of shameless advertising. One should pay close attention to the search results of Google, as one should be wary of compatible matches on eHarmony.

The problem is not the algorithm itself, but the fact that we trust the algorithm to get compatible results. In real life, destiny and chance are providing for the experimentation variables of meeting your partner for life. eHarmony is providing you with hundreds, if not thousands compatible matches. And eventually you feel like walking a silent theatre of human comedy and tragedy.

Smiling faces, some beautiful, some less so, but all with a story to tell, a secret garden perhaps, are there for your picking, and you feel like entering a cave of whispering souls.

Soon profiles will begin to coalesce in a single female or male entity, exactly like ripples of sand on a dune tell about the same story. This is a sad story women have to tell about men. There is so much expectation and so much hope. How can a man fit in that ideal shape of perfect manhood, never faltering like those statues of fallen warriors?

But if you come closer to a single inscription on this Wall of Laments, then beware because words have edges, and cut deep. You come as a silent witness of a tragedy, and expect the welcome of a guest in the tradition we used to have as nomads. But the house of women is a silent and cold one to the traveller.

Troubled are the waters of romance when you want to play with destiny and love! There are hidden pitfalls and barriers of glass, thresholds you don’t understand. Eventually you feel like the stranger you are, and when you read again those words on the Wall of Laments, they are blurred by tears of sorrow and cold.

It is never easy to walk into dark and cold caves when you expect at least the decency of humanity.

Dark and silent are the corridors of those souls, and as you walk by entrances, you believe you hear the sound of children laughing, or crying. So you turn and follow the sound of joy only to discover that it was the wind playing fool with you. Those corridors are empty like long forgotten armours of dead heroes.

To persevere is to suffer the indignity of walking ever higher in a mountain, and ever farther from the reality of the living world. You are walking to the sound of a glorious trumpet, which is only the sound of your own soul vibrating in agony.

When miracles happen they are cruel, and seldom, as if Gods wanted to tell you that the work you had done was like fighting winds, or planting seeds in the dust. However hard you will try, there is nothing that can grow out of wind and dust. Because you have forsaken the rich valleys of promised lands, Gods are exacting a frightful toll.

Here is the fool who believed he could be king, and marry a princess of lore. Poems he wrote, and glorious deeds he performed, to awaken a flame in that cold house of a woman’s heart. He drew signs in the air and it seemed that magic hold the promise of a fruitful spring. There was the promised land of shared joy.

Grey are the tides of time, and darker the pits of fallen dreams.

To the hardiest of travellers the veil will but slightly shift, and you will contemplate fabulous landscapes with cities of Eldorado perched upon clouds. You will be able to go where no one ventured before, as indeed all those troubled waters will eventually submit to your will.

So that one morning the veil will lift, and silently you will land on the dark sand of that foreign shore, and contemplate the play of wind in leaves. Silent is that country, as you are making destiny. And perhaps, I say perhaps, you will be the one who can fecundate and bring that silent forest to bloom.

So began the adventure in timeless ages as the first man loved the first woman. Eden was still about primordial silence and dragoons. So they walked and softly spoke and gave a name to every thing. And as words came, so came the Song and the Path. But that is another story.

Cherchez la femme

What we can learn from French women

French women think of the ideal man as a male in his mid-thirties, athletic, blond and successful businessman. Learning this, you will wonder why there has been such a hysterical rejection of German blond Hitler youth, some sixty years ago. Even more pathetic is that the majority of French women voted for President Sarkozy against his female competitor, Madame Royal.

This is contradictory because one would have expected that women support a woman running for presidency. French women are so infatuated with their independence and liberty. They have casual sex, drive cars with deliberate death wish and display contempt for male protective behaviour.

And yet amazingly so, they would work to pay the bills of their man, support him, have kids and in every sense endorse the traditional role of a woman as pillar of the family. The more the things change, the less they change. Men of today complain, but they are so spoiled by their concubines and spouses.

I forgot to mention that French women are incredibly jealous, which could be laughable, but is so cute in a girlish way, because who would want to take their husbands away? To have a French husband is comparable to have a dog at home, without genuine love and fidelity.

So that I dare to say that French women are victim of the mediocrity of Frenchmen. Historically speaking, women of France are more remarkable than men. Men keep losing wars, while women keep saving France. Think of Jean of Arc.

This is why I am so interested in the feminine psychology of French women. It is a fascinating field of study. Their dreams, their expectations are those of the heart of France. More and more French women mate with Arabs and Blacks. Think of Zinedine Zidane iconic status.

Most French actors and artists are Jews or Arabs. French Jews have always constituted a state within the state, so that their presence in the media is only illustrating their social influence. But the new trend is increasing numbers of Blacks and Arabs. French National television has its Black TV commentator. Is that a sign of integration, or disintegration of French society in racial corporations?

As a matter of fact when you return to France from afar, there is a new type of French population emerging. President Sarkozy is talking about French identity, but he should watch himself in a mirror. When you land at Paris airport, you will understand that France has developed its Mediterranean identity. Almost all airport staff is black or Arab, as well as police. Look at the travellers, and it is a day in Marrakech, Jerusalem or Abidjan.

Well.

Russian prostitutes don’t have sex with black people as they fear they will have monkeys instead of babies. There is no denying that the face of France is changing, and we should seriously consider changing our Marianne national figure. After all, this is justice because historically speaking we have used those poor black people as slaves and cannon fodder. North Africans we have been happy to get them as we were looking for cheap labour. The bravery and savagery of their soldiers was feared by Germans in both World Wars.

So why should we feel threatened? Why should we debate on French national identity? One is not French because of his blood, one becomes French because of his deeds.

The principles of our Constitution is that French Republic is equal to all its citizens, whatever colour, race, religion or social origin. You are French when you are born on French soil. When you consider the history of Rome, you see that there have been Black senators, gladiators and even a Caesar. And the history of Rome is nothing short of impressive.

The problem is not one of integration, or of immigration, but of our own consciousness of being French. To be French is not about a race, it is about a project of society. And unfortunately that project of society has lost its value, because of incompetent politicians, widespread corruption, lack of innovation, and French intellectual clique. We have not a problem with colours, we have a problem with ideals.

The ideal of the French Republic is wonderful, and truly I feel French when I read history books and think of our great men and women. Few countries in the world have been so often invaded than France. Think of the Goths, and how they walked from Danube to Southern France, established themselves there, and thus was born a race of beautiful blond children.

To every invader France has appeared as the promised land. Its rich valleys, wonderful rivers, and variety of marvellous landscapes made every invader want to stay and establish himself. Gaul was the crown of the Roman Empire. France is the Garden of Europe, its Eden.

When you think of the French as invaders you have the choice between Napoleon and colonial France of the 19th century. Napoleon provided the Germans with modern laws and national unity. Without the French there would be no Germany, but a constellation of little petty states. Napoleon shaped Europe.

T.E. Lawrence debates at length on the advantage of being an Englishman. To him the Frenchman is nothing short of an ape. English aristocratic society hates the values of the French Republic. To Lawrence the idea of being compared to native populations was even worse than being raped by Turks. What the French did was to create a native elite in every country they colonised. O, if you think of Africa, yes, it is a shame now, as France does support puppet regimes there.

But think of how many sons and daughters of the immigration have made it to the top of the French Republic. And there are reasons to be proud, I mean, in spite of the revolt of the banlieues France does provide fairly good chances of social integration and success, whatever your race or religion.

The real problem of France is incompetence, corruption and political sclerosis. It is not a problem of national identity. Listen to the message of French women.

The ploy of charity

What charity interventionism in Haiti is telling about us.

There is something disturbing in public displays of charity. Haiti is the new buzz. And every celebrity has to make oral contribution, just in case someone wondered if they were still alive, or in cocaine stupor. I hate this charity of the masses.

Scientific observation of the behaviour of apes has demonstrated that dominating males are using the ploy of charity to attract females. Charity proves the ability to lead and insure safety of the tribe. Roman Emperors have this in common with apes.

Collective anonymous charity is even more perverse because it does not provide the sexual services one could expect from performing charitable deeds. Collective charity has become collective hysteria and amnesia.

Haiti is one of the poorest countries on Earth. And now an earthquake has transformed our indifference into frantic activism. We could have built schools and hospitals long ago. But now our governments, and I think of President Sarkozy ridiculous speech on television, as he advised President Obama for action, are positioning themselves to get a part of the reconstruction cake.

Well.

I wonder if the poor people of Haiti realise how shameless we are to come now as we failed to come before. The majority of casualties is among the poor, those who lived in dreadful conditions. And hear, hear, the Church is coming to help them now. O, do you think that God will think better of us now? Why are the poor always paying for the rich? As the journalist on French national channel said, How fortunate, Haiti President is alive. Yes, I am sure his Presidential Palace will get rebuilt in first place.

What a good omen for online business and charities worldwide! Now there are billions of dollars coming to the rescue. I mean, it was time. Since the days of the Tsunami there had been a draught of cash flow. It is time to change luxury cars and SUVs and get new bank accounts.

So France cannot find the money for building homes with decent rent, but we are rushing ahead for international recognition as helpers of poor Haiti. Where does the money come from?

I think of the people still under the ruins of Haiti slums. They need help, but the true reason of this tragedy is that for years nobody cared to build homes in secure areas. So now we make a grand display of generosity. Yes, it is useful, because it is never too late. But why do we need to wait for tragedies?

Please spare us the indignity of those celebrities going live on television to explain why we should give money. I will give money if I think it is useful. But I will not give money because a junkie is telling me to do so, or a President of France, as he is trying to compete with President Obama.

I will not give money to Haiti. I won’t because it will land in the pockets of the rich and corrupted. I hate collective hysteria. It has a feel of “Agora” by Alejandro Amenabar.

Perhaps I will go there and teach a girl and a boy how to build decent homes for a better future. It would be good to raise those children to become good citizens.

Knowledge is still the best help one can give.

Every time I have accomplished something courageous, I felt there was no choice. I had to do it. Cutting down menacing trees, or fighting illness alone, it was not courage, it was necessity. Strangely I recall the words of Himmler as he said of the German soldier that he was not a hero, but did only what was necessary.

To me courage is humility and persistence, even in defeat, and particularly in defeat. Because victory is spoiling everything. We love war heroes, we admire them, and yet what is courage? There are so many ways to get killed and kill. You can kill out of anger, out of frustration, out of fear. Killing out of courage is rare. Imagine when you are killing your dying dog, or your mother. Because you love, you don’t want them to suffer.

This is why women are so courageous. Because they have not the excuse of violence. They endure. There are wars and natural catastrophes, but they will still bear children. Of course, you might say that they have no choice, but yes, they have. They could collectively suicide, and kill the future of mankind.

Jack Vance told the story of a man, so arrogant he wanted to create a race by himself by fecundating females. Mankind can survive with one man, but not with only one woman. The courage of women is similar to the regenerating power of Nature.

So what is the courage of men?

Is it fortitude? The firmness of mind and spirit in spite of opposition, is that the courage of men? Men are so changing. They will say the love a woman and discard her a few years later. Because men are competitive, they need to prove to themselves they can do it. They are doing crazy things and shit in their pants. That is not courage. This is stupidity.

I will leave fortitude to the fans of President Obama. Those are easy words. Like Nelson Mandela in prison, oh, what choice did he have but to endure? Courage begins with wisdom and out of desperation. Nobody is born courageous, but becomes courageous out of necessity.

Marines like to say that “Once a Marine, always a Marine.” Semper Fidelis. That is a bright shining lie, because no one can remain courageous as what makes someone capable of facing extreme danger and difficulty eventually disappears. Courage is a precious resource, and veterans know that after a while a soldier is burned.

Look at Gunther Prien, the hero of Scapa Flow. He escaped Scapa Flow after the sinking of HMS Royal Oak. The British did everything they could to sink his submarine, but miraculously he survived. But he was emotionally broken. Nazi Germany needed heroes, and sent him back to sea. His submarine was sunk a few days later. Broken, he was.

There is a wonderful book about men at war by James Grey with a preface of Hannah Arendt. Read it and you will discover the story of courage. There is no courage in war, but insanity, brass and coffins.

I hate it when people use the word courage to describe the behaviour of someone. How do they know it is courage? You see a baby drowning, you jump in the water. Because you react without thinking. I positively hate it when people say a man or a woman is courageous because they do their job. I mean, soldier or policeman. If they have not the right stuff, they should consider swapping jobs.

Courage it is, when you do something knowing you have everything to lose, but you don’t care, because you have to do it. Courage it is where there is no glory. And then you find out that there are very simple things of life, which require courage.

Consider the engagement of marriage. No seriously, I mean the true engagement of marriage, I will love and cherish her in good and bad times alike. O that is courage. Love is about courage, really. If you love, you don’t think, because you don’t care, you do it or you don’t.

This is why I hate it when people use the word love without thinking about the courage of loving. There is a man I know whose wife died recently. She asked to die because she suffered. And he went to see her everyday. Everyone said he is courageous. I don’t agree, because if you love your wife, you don’t let her suffer day and night as she is asking to die. You kill her.

Well.

Who am I to give lessons, indeed? I have some experience of death and love. The only thing I can say is that both times I did everything I could without thinking about the consequences. To me only mattered the person who was in pain or dying. Nobody ever said I am courageous. And I couldn’t care less.

So yes, there is an age of courage. It is when you are old enough to think that you don’t care about the consequences, but have lived  enough to measure everything you have to lose. So that courage is a decision.

According to Sartre the age of reason is to know that there are things, which cannot be undone. The age of courage is to know that no matter what happens, you are committed to things which are more important than the most precious thing you have, which is your life.

The age of courage is also the age of love. As there cannot be courage without love, and love without courage.

Heaven and Earth

A review of “Agora” by Frederic W. Erk

Since the days of Sergio Leone, there have been few films so talkative as “Agora”. This is not really a surprise as in Ancient Greece Agora was the open public space used for assemblies and markets. In Alexandria of the 4th century after the death of Jesus Christ, it is still an open public place, but assemblies and markets are debating Gods and scholars with tragic consequences.

The purpose of “Agora” is ambitious, perhaps too ambitious. Like the heavy bag Hypatia (Rachel Weisz) is using to demonstrate the trajectory of falling objects, “Agora” falls short of its original purpose, because Alejandro Amenábar has forgotten that the primary purpose of a film is to entertain. “Agora” has the lightness of a brick and Alejandro Amenábar the delicacy of a budding Wagner.

His film is balancing between two poles of attraction, exactly like the elliptic trajectory of Earth around the Sun. Alejandro Amenábar obviously could not decide if his film was about Alexandria, the fall of the Roman Empire, the bloodshed of religious fanaticism, Christianity, a woman loved by two men, or astronomy. This ambiguity is confusing because every time the film achieves greater empathy with its characters, Alejandro Amenábar introduces visual interference with long travelling views of Earth and stars.

“Agora” is a film about the belief in perfection in Heaven and on Earth. Christians worship one God, and the symbolism of the Cross is more dangerous to mankind that Gods with flower pots on their heads. Hypatia fails to understand Heaven because she believes that Heaven is perfect. Alejandro Amenábar thinks that the quest for an ideal of perfection is the greatest danger of all.

The Cosmos of “Agora” is about silent planets rotating around the Sun, and the turmoil of Alexandria around the core of the Library. Roman soldiers try to control vociferating crowds. Assemblies of priests and patricians argue without end. Hypatia is teaching students the Ptolemaic system of celestial orbits. Christians burn people on the public place and perform grand charity afterwards.

Since this is a film about bipolarity, Hypatia has two lovers, and she is oscillating between them, while keeping a reasonable distance, in an endless ellipse of attraction and repulsion.There is young Orestes (Oscar Isaac) who pursues Hypatia with public declarations of love. There is the slave Davus (Max Minghella) who is burning with passionate, but silent love for Hypatia.

If we use the metaphor of Earth elliptic orbit around Sun, then Davus is the aphelion as he is the distant lover, a thug of the Paraballani soldiers of Christ. Orestes is perihelion, closest to Hypatia, socially and intellectually speaking. Davus is a man of deeds and anger, fascinated with violence. Orestes is a man of words and compromise, delicate and fragile.

Hypatia is passionate about her quest to understand the laws governing the movement of planets. She is a woman in doubt, too. Her father loved a woman, and she is the fruit of that love. But to marry is to abandon studies and teaching. She wants to be free, and her endless fight to remain free and honest with herself is more moving than the destruction of the Library of Alexandria.

When Orestes tries to convince her of his love, she replies he should find a proper muse like music for instance. Orestes then declares his love in public and plays a soulful melody with flutes. The next day Hypatia answers by presenting him with a shawl soiled with menstrual blood, and asking him if this is compatible with his desire of ideal love. To her only the love of philosophy and mathematics can be ideal.

The film is divided in two parts. There is the revolt of the Christians and fall of the Library of Alexandria. And there is the Second Revolt of the Christians, ending in the massacre of the Jews, the destruction of the civil authority of Rome and the violent death of Hypatia.

Alejandro Amenábar has no tenderness for his male heroes. They are weak, in perpetual doubt, and cannot provide protection and love to Hypatia without soiling or killing her. “Agora” is the story of men failing the woman they love. Hypatia will die virgin, and yet the deadly embrace of her killer is more erotic than vindictive.

It is a strange film. It has the grandeur of the last scenes of the “Fall of the Roman Empire” and “Schindler’s List”. But Alexandria is not Rome or Krakow. Egypt was always a thorn to the Roman Empire. While it took twenty years to a Gaul to become Senator of Rome, it took four hundred years to an Egyptian. Egypt was already decadent by the time Caesar landed. Five centuries later it is the receptacle of all decay the Roman Empire could muster.

The Christians’ Paraballani thugs own the streets like Nazi SA. Their religious understanding of Jesus Christ is to crucify all the infidels and absolute obedience to their charismatic leader, Cyril.

The two lovers of Hypatia form a strange combination of romantic ideals. Davus is the closest to a real lover, and he is the one who will kill Hypatia so she is spared the agony of torture. Orestes has the oily look of a decadent Greek student of philosophy. He spends time killing Christians, before joining their ranks to become Prefect of Alexandria. He will eventually betray Hypatia to counter the growing power of the Christian leader Cyril.

Rachel Weisz is convincing, and yet her fragility is ambiguous. Why does Hypatia enter the public arena to challenge the Christian leader Cyril? Why does she not focus on her studies only? This is intellectual interventionism in public affairs and she will pay the ultimate price for her commitment to an ideal of perfection and freedom.

Like Anna Politkovskaya in Russia, Hypatia will not yield. Her death is an obscene waste of youth and talent. The End of Times is nigh in Alexandria.

“Agora” is a political manifesto for tolerance. Alejandro Amenábar believes that our civilisation is fragile. 1,500 years ago the Roman Empire declined and fell because of internal bankruptcy, corruption and religious fanaticism. Fanaticism has the power of simple answers to complicated questions. It is rooted in our desire for perfection and spiritual elevation.

Our modern society has new idols of technology and science. Alejandro Amenábar is warning us of the danger of believing these idols will make our life perfect and happy. There is no happiness, but madness, destruction and fanaticism in the quest of perfection.

And he continues saying: “There is more love in our distance than in the twining of arms.”

Well.

There is self-discipline and abstinence in love. There is asceticism, but it is not work, at least not like we understand work nowadays. In French, we use the word travail for work, and its meaning is one of suffering, but also of delivery of the child. If love is delivery of a child, then yes, love is work.

Huw Morgan loves Bronwen, and yet he makes love to Ceinwen. Can a man love two women? Yes, exactly like a woman can love two men. There are different sorts of love. There is the love of the mother for her child, and the love of the woman for her man.

The love for the child is unconditional. The love for the man is different. It is sexual love, understanding and trust. Men should envy how women can love. Women endure and suffer, but they love more.

A man is born to father children. He is the one holding the promise and the legacy of his fathers. And there is nothing more beautiful in the life of a man, but to find the woman he will love and make children with.

And yet, the man knows that to become father is to return to the dust of his fathers. When Huw Morgan is walking up the hill to his home, as his mother is dead, and all those he knew are dead, he is but the bearer of the message of his fathers. They are singing within him.

A man is but a world of sons and lovers. The world of a woman is pregnant with life and eternity. When we think of origin of life, we think of the womb. Never do we think of the man.

I used to believe in Gods seated on thrones of stones and lowering upon us, Children of our Fathers, the gaze of Titans. But Gods endure less than Mortals, and perhaps they are jealous of our strength and hopes. Because there is no hope when you are immortal. There is tiredness and this explains why Robert E. Howard wrote that Gods retired on the shores of lakes, behind the stars.

Gods have a short life, as Men have little memory. Where is the God when the worshiper has forgotten the words of trust, which bound them?

As the sun is shining through the window and sending shards of brilliant light, I think of Albert Camus and his miracle of “Tipasa”. Yes, there are mornings of redemption and hope. Hope is a wonderful thing in the morning, but will keep us from sleeping at night.

I am born son of Men, and yet I feel that today, that morning is something of a miracle, only for me. There are worlds and worlds. People are afraid of being isolated, and what is prison but a way to isolate you. And because we attract what we fear, we end up like termites in dark corridors of our cities.

One shall never forget that life is precious, and that one shall live in the present. There is no fear to have. We are born mortals and free to choose the way we are going to walk our Path. Freedom is when you stop fearing. One cannot be free when he is afraid.

Bruce Chatwin wrote that the future of mankind would be asceticism, or would not be. Asceticism is about self-discipline and abstinence. Chatwin thought that our world would not survive to our indulging ourselves ever more.

Here is a legend of Ancient Greece. Erysichthon, King of Thessaly, was inflicted with fearful hunger after chopping down the sacred grove of Demeter to build himself a feast-hall. He ended in poverty and prostituted his daughter before eating himself.

In “Terremer” Ursula K. Le Guin told the story of a mankind without roots and beliefs on the verge of collapse. We must keep our faith in magic and discipline ourselves to the perspective of death, because the End of Times is nigh when we want to live forever. Asceticism is hope without expectation.

Claude Levy-Strauss observed how tribes would have feasts with abundance of meat and drink, even if they could not afford for it. The more they were starving, the more they would eat in that single day of festivities in a pitiful attempt to challenge destiny.

The hateful thing with global thinking is that now we have not only to cope with our daily life, but also with the life of other people. And this proved to be a double edged sword, indeed. Before the introduction of television and multimedia, we had to travel to experience first-hand difference in way of life. There were books, but books open the mind, while news and television kill our imagination and the few hopes we could have of Eldorado.

It is always a mystery why national news would talk at length about millionaires and why we should learn about money scandals. It could be that media is not caring at all for the morale of people, but in fact they provide what we are looking for, namely something to feed our lack of contentment with.

Alcibiades cut the tail of his beautiful dog to prove that the people of Athens would focus on that instead of talking about public affairs. Governments feed us with bits of information to control our discontent.

The World Wide Web has paved the way to global thinking and local acting. I wonder if it is a good thing that we think of the world as a smaller place. Perhaps mankind needs to believe in worlds to conquer and discover. Because at heart we are still the hunter-gatherers, the nomads who walked out of Tanzania to learn the secret of hidden valleys.

As we focus on the tragic effects of global warming, we lose the belief in the power of Earth to regenerate herself. It is a revolution, which is dangerous to our psychological balance. I mean, we are part of Cosmos, and now we are supposed to heal a whole planet. Because we feel that dissatisfaction we need to embrace Earth and share that insane pathos.

I wonder if the Trojan War would have happened at all if Ancient Greece had Internet, some 3,000 years ago. Helen and Paris would have shot a movie of them having sex and put it online, while paparazzi would have tracked them as they had fun together. Greek warriors would have connected to Priam.com web site to see if the servants and priestesses were really as beautiful as it was said. They would have booked tickets in advance on invasionfleet.com.

O, they had Internet, and even better, they had narrative tradition and songs. Instead of watching the breasts of ex-porn actress Helen on the Internet, they had tales of Gods and Marvels. They sailed to Troy like a flight of hawks, and indeed the roofs of Troy houses must have appeared golden in the bright sunlight of that morning, as they touched ground.

The desire to know has become a desire to own, while it used to be a desire to marvel. Owning is not a sign of power, on the contrary. The more we own, the more vulnerable we become, as the fear to lose what we have, and the status which is attached to that belonging, is jeopardised.

Welcome to a world where the Trojan War will not happen, as we have lost that desire to marvel. Adieu sauvages, adieu voyages cried Claude Levi-Strauss. Global thinking and local acting is a danger to our natural need to know there are “Happy Islands” and monsters out there. O, how unhappy we have become, because of this!