Hume and ethics

I may not have time to write proper posts anymore, but I still seem to have time to argue with people on comics forums. So to pad this blog out a bit, here's me philosophizing on Whitechapel:

I should come out and say that I LOVE Hume, and pretty much think he's on the right lines meta-ethically, even if some of the technicalities of his system now seem a bit crazy (to be fair, he was writing in the 18th century -- we know a lot more about human nature now). I have to admit that I don't quite understand your misgivings about him: for Hume ethics was ALL about 'how we get there'. There are no transcendent 'oughts'. A scientific approach to moral philosophy seeks to understand the emotional processes by which 'oughts' are generated in different societies.

@Solario

What you say about societies w/o the capacity for empathy is true, but this is hypothetical, right? Human beings have evolved to live in groups, have certain instincts, empathy, because all of these things help us survive. And ethics is a human phenomenon: we can only empirically study what's in front of us. That's about as 'logical' as ethics can get, no?

Basing your entire value system on ethos and the actions of others is even more problematic and arbitrary

Hume argues that we do this all the time, that it's a natural disposition humans have. I think a lot of that makes sense. It's arbitrary from a transcendental point of view, maybe. But if you ground ethics on the real-world experience of how humans behave, then its quite a logical point to make.

Just generally, my sense is that what is so difficult to accept about this stance is that it inevitably leads to some kind of relativism. Criticizing alternative belief structures becomes difficult when you don't have deontological laws or utilitarian calculuses. Then again, the understanding that your ethical beliefs are grounded in illogical, emotional assumptions might also teach humility, and perhaps tolerance as well. You might say (and some have) that this awareness can have a moralizing effect!

Mushroom pasta

Yeah, so posts have slowed down alot in the past month, what with valuable time now taken up w/ work (can't talk about it), BDs (don't know french well enough to talk about it) and Farscape (really not worth talking about). ((Altho, by-the-by, if people thought Gaius Baltar was the pinnacle of self-serving sci-fi Brit brats, they obv haven't experienced Dominar Rygel XVI condescend from his hover chair)). Practically the only activities I CAN talk about are everyday banalities like cooking. I haven't cooked since I came to Brussels, b/c I was staying in catered halls (where the food was surprisingly good) and then when I moved out, I reverted back to my old MO of eating absolute trash. I'm talking doritos washed down w/ beer lows, here. (Tho shd say, this being Belgium, the beer is totally worth drinking at every opportunity. Paying a euro for a can (a can!) of Leffe DEMANDS that you develop an alcohol dependency post-haste.)

Today, I finally got myself together. Went to the local hypermarket to buy supplies. Middle class student stuff: 2l olive oil, large bag o' pasta, bottle o' passata, garlic, onions, milk, museli, black pepper w/ the plastic grinder-cap, chili flakes, mushrooms (cause meat/fish/cheese is expensive). Oh, and beer of course. Go home, this is what I did, and what you should do too, if you make a habit of listening to people on the internet. Pour a goodly amount of olive oil in a pan, and put on a low heat. No need to be frugal, you've just bought two litres of the stuff. And you bought two litres of the stuff because this is the ONE THING that both tastes divine and has ZERO negative health consequences. Eat it every day, it will make you live forever. Word is bond. Dice up two onions. I was using a plate and a serrated knife, so you can imagine how neat my dicing was. No matter. Throw them into the pan. Yr gonna cook these mofos slow, make 'em melt. I slightly burnt mine, because I was busy with the garlic, but you will do better!

Garlic. I decided on four cloves, because I'm not sharing my breathing-space w/ anyone this evening. Chop, as fine as you can. Plate and serrated knife meant mine were pretty chunky. Go get them mushrooms, wash five or six, and slice them any which way you like. Chuck all that in the pan. Put a little bit of milk in it, the fiends love it -- immortal words from Raekwon the Chef. You should follow his advice. In all things. Also pepper, lots of it. I'm a six twists of the mill kinda guy. Chili also vital. You don't have money for fresh basil / oregano / other herby shit. Yr going for the heavy artillery. Spice, spice, spice. Finally, a couple of spoonfuls of the passata. Don't over-tomato, you don't want the sauce too sharp. Plus, this stuff costs a fortune and you want it to last the next fortnight.

By this time, you should have had the kettle boiling. No? I always forget as well. Boiling water in the pan, heat up. Put salt in the water. My pasta of choice is fusilli, called macaroni by the ignorant. Chuck two handfuls in (if yr as hungry as I was) and boil that shit until it's cooked. Not overcooked. People always overcook pasta. It should be chewy, not soupy. Extract and taste samples every two-three minutes until you get it right.

Right, by this time the sauce should have reduced down to a paste. Pour some of the pasta water into it to get it runny again. Then drain the pasta, throw it in the pan w/ the sauce. Spoon it round for a minute until it's good and mixed, and then pour it on a plate. By now you should be ravenous, so I shouldn't have to tell you to eat the thing immediately. Two three clementines for dessert (they're in season now), then lie down and type-up your activities for the internet to read. Then go watch Farscape.

The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me

Posting the rambling comment on Hugo Stiglitz Makes Movies: Record Club #2 -- Brand New over here:

Late to the party. Was really looking fwd to this discussion, but then of course I forgot all about it! Reading thru and listening again, the following thoughts occurred:

I hear a lot of Mogwai-type post-rock on this album... which I think is great. The biggest problem I have with the genre is its grandiose portent and its lack of personality. Lacey's whispered confessionals and strained screaming solve those problems -- there's a confused guy at the centre of all the winding / crashing guitars. Brand New can hypnotize and pulverize just like Explosions In The Sky, but they've got heart as well. This might be why I'm not such a huge fan of 'Welcome To Bangkok' or 'Untitled'... they skip what's so engaging about the band. They aren't particularly interesting post-rock pieces, either. Quite simple arrangements...

I initially hated the soft crooning switch to shouting, because it sounded really wrong -- how would you produce such extreme dynamics live? But then I realized that it's actually a really cool effect. It internalizes the songs, makes them about the sounds in your skull rather than the sounds at a show.

As for the lyrics... some of the clunky lines grated at first. But I got over that. I think too many people are scared of being earnest, and I admire the way Lacey has the guts to put himself out there (as has been pointed out above, his ambivalence about this is a key part of what makes Deja Entendu so interesting). Actually, I think his conviction and his voice can redeem a bad line quite well! Plus, there are enough gems on the album to make the work of unravelling meaning rewarding.

The obscured lyrics are a boon in this task. The effect is a bit like what Grouper gets up to. Suggestions of words shrouded by the music -- songs that become more about mood than message. Also, it might be a way to avoid the teenage spokesman role Lacey's so uncomfortable with.

'Handcuffs' is a bit too arch for me. The darkness becomes comical. Also dislike 'Limousine', which is too stretched out, the repeating line at the end just becomes annoying (didn't know about the story behind the song, but it doesn't really make it more interesting for me). 'Millstone', 'Jesus', 'Know' and 'Archers' are all amazing tho. I think Deja Entendu is superior, but Devil and God is a great step forward. Daisy was awful, tho...

Dogma

OK, Clerks you can forgive because it was Smith's first feature and he had no money. But should I let shoddiness slide four films in? Smith has some professionals to work with now. But Alan Rickman, Chris Rock and Selma Hayek just seemed lost, not knowing what tone to aim for -- how arch or how serious each line was supposed to be. Linda Fiorentino is TERRIBLE. I really liked her sarcastic resignation in Men In Black, but Bethany's character requires something more than that. And Smith really cannot film conversation scenes w/o making them look like bad tv. Dude, give me an over or a two-shot or make the camera MOVE a little, rather than just cut to the next facial expression... gods, this is just boring!

Smith does have a talent for writing. The best scene in the film is the marketing meeting being turned into a temple of idolatry (although it's slightly undermined by the lady in the boardroom being put on a pedestal). Rufus's injunction to stick with ideas rather than beliefs is also well-meaning (although once you start thinking about it, not all that substantial). The notion that religion is being undermined by its own pretensions to infallibility, its dogma, is a great hook for the whole film, but the relapse back into faith at the end is puzzling. I guess it is supposed to be -- Alanis Morrisette silently suggests that existence is just a benevolent joke. But my feeling is that Smith fudges the REALLY philosophical stuff by making God inexplicable.

Then there's Jay and Silent Bob. I'll admit to laughing at the former's torrential swearing and the latter lighting a smoke after throwing two guys off a train, but a lot of the other japes fell flat. These dudes are clowns, obv, but Smith has the tendency to celebrate their immature and offensive ways. He's not distant enough. Literally! He loves being a blunted, slacker-nerd who fetishizes black people and silently defends (fears) women... He's the comic-book guy who doesn't fully accept that you have to stop being a comic-book guy.

Sex, Lies, and Videotape

Y'know, it's been a long time since I've felt the numinous whilst watching a film. Addiction to pulp can do that to you. With pulp the thrills are visceral, and the pleasures intellectual. But that emotional connection, where you feel the filmmaker plucking all your strings, delving to the very core of who you are... that I haven't felt in a while. So my thanks to Soderbergh and his team.

I don't have the energy to discuss Sex, Lies, and Videotape in the reductionist way I deal with most things on this blog. This film is too big for me, I don't have the capacity to capture and box it into four paragraphs. But if ever I need to be reminded of the seductive (and addictive!) nature of honesty, and the mesmerizing effect of watching people on screen, I'll definitely come back to this one.

A while ago, I posted a notice about The Filth being one of the best comics I have read, promising that I'll write about it when I've figured it out. I never did. Well, I don't think I will with Sex, Lies, and Videotape either. It's just one of my favourite films. Sometimes that's all you're able to say.

Clerks

Having the perspective of everything that has happened since 1994 makes watching this film for the first time rather underwhelming. Whatever innovations Kevin Smith cooked up have been digested and recycled so many times that there's zero shock factor now. The lo-fi production and the unconvincing acting just give the film a weird quaintness. The question is worth asking: who needs Clerks when you have Superbad?

Smith's script is best when dealing with Dante and Randal's opposing motivations for clerking -- the former's bumbling conformity and the latter's relaxed hooliganism. Smith's script is weakest when dealing with the female characters -- Veronica goes to unbelievable lengths to keep her boyfriend happy, and Caitlin's nymphomania is a (very uncomfortable) joke. Both ladies have their entire lives defined by Dante (Caitlin makes statements to the contrary, which are almost immediately contradicted). They never feel like independent beings. And it's hard not to read some misogyny into Silent Bob's words of wisdom at the end: women are either replacement mothers, or whores.

It's the first Kevin Smith movie I've seen, and so far I'm not that impressed. Looking fwd to seeing Dogma, tho. Proper production values, and perhaps a more enlightened outlook, are expected...

Valhalla Rising

Xan Brooks has a decent summary of what to expect. He didn't think there was much behind it all, but I wonder... Refn strikes me as a bit of a dick, but he definitely wants to say something with this film, and it's worth thinking about what that might be.

One-Eye has one eye, and is mute. He gets asked several questions as the film goes on, some rather existential, to which he doesn't reply. All of this suggests to me that he's a symbol for the God that doesn't answer prayers. The one eye is itself symbolic -- restricted vision, a humanity that's missing. No love and all war. It also might connote the eye-for-an-eye principle. One-Eye has been brutalized by his pagan captors, who impassively play games and make cash with people's lives, and he spends the first part of the film getting his revenge. That done, he drifts off, not knowing what else the world has to offer.

The rest of the film seems to deal with religion and its corruption. One-Eye joins a band of crusaders that promise to cleanse his soul. On the journey to Jerusalem (v. Rime of the Ancient Mariner) they go crazy and try to kill One-Eye's companion, a boy (Colridge's albatross), but One-Eye stops them. Upon arrival, the Viking chief becomes a fanatic (and dies) , the priest and the chief's son go to be with their deceased loved ones (and die) and the rest become restless when there's no treasure to be found (and get killed by One-Eye).

The final part of the film is about a sacrifice: One-Eye drops his axe, and offers his life in order to save that of his companion, the boy in search of home. The final scene is of the boy looking out into the sea, and imagining One-Eye looking back, free from the blood-lust that consumed his existence. Whether this is One-Eye rising on the third day is left to the viewer to decide.

This redemptive parting shot makes me think the film isn't just about natural man's innate capacity for violence -- Cormac McCarthy doing Vikings. Rather, "Wrath" is contrasted with "Sacrifice", and there's stuff in between about how lofty ideals end up doing funny things to your head.

One of the strangest medieval slaughter-fest movies you are ever likely to see. What I like about it is its obvious allegiance to mythic and genre archetypes -- stripping characters and dialogue to essentials, and focusing on building mood. Obv. you might have problems with the portrayal of the 'savages', cast in the red-skinned demons-in-hell role. Refn also says some stupid things about gender in the interview linked above, so I suspect he's prone to taking up insensitive or uncomfortable positions in his films... which makes me want to see Drive all the more -- will Refn deal w/ chivalry w/o being patronizing and reactionary?

Winter's Bone

Peter Bradshaw covers a lot of it. Transgression and taboo is certainly on the menu -- the film's climax is a chilling desecration scene, which ends up saving the vulnerable family faced with losing everything. However, the broader picture Winter's Bone paints is one of an environment so remote and rugged that the only political units that really matter are family. The patriarch is the law here, so you better not get on his wrong side: Ree's father betrays him to the police and dies for it. However, Ree's uncle has to stir things up before the patriarch moves to calm things down. That's the line you have to negotiate, protect your family whilst paying your dues to the power in the land. Where the people are poor and desperate, pre-modern politics holds sway.

Jennifer Lawrence is incredible in the lead role, although (perhaps because I've seen her dolled-up in X-Men: First Class) her stellar good looks did bug me a tiny bit. There seems to be a model for the way heroes are presented -- they HAVE to be extraordinarily attractive, otherwise I'll stop sympathizing or get confused. No slight on the actor, tho. Looking fwd to more from her.

The Exorcist

Roger Egbert gets rather distressed at the end of his review, worrying about the numbness of contemporary audiences who need extreme horror to feel anything at all... Bless. Revulsion at video nasties seems to have been quite widespread.

Sensory overload is definitely part of it, but dynamics is even more important. This film is looong, the characters and situation built comprehensively before the action starts. Indeed, the tensest part of the film might be before the theatrics even begin. The mother-daughter relationship is so sweet that you start dreading the eventual manifestation of demonic influence -- a development that unfolds with excruciating slowness.

But what makes the film last isn't so much the scare-tactics as the characters and themes of bereavement, mental illness, loss-of-faith and loss-of-innocence, which all resonate quite powerfully (Ellen Burnstyn, Jason Miller and Linda Blair are magnificent). There is also the beginning's gnomic visual allusions to relativism and nihilism -- Father Merrin is a mysterious character throughout, but he seems to be battling with demons that have existed for the entire span of human history. The devil is trying to convince us we are animals, and in that desert in Nineveh Merrin faces a pagan statue looking down on two fighting wolves. It's dog-eat-dog out there, except when it isn't. Karras chooses to sacrifice himself in order to save Regan. When you throw the mumbo-jumbo away, The Exorcist asks only that we don't despair, and that in the face of evil we have the courage to do the upmost to save each other. That's where its true power lies.