Flat Space

In film, the concept of flat space is used to describe a style of visual storytelling that emphasizes the two-dimensional nature of the screen surface, rather than attempting to create the illusion of three-dimensional space. This style is often associated with avant-garde and experimental cinema, as well as with certain genres such as animation and graphic design.

At its core, flat space is about foregrounding the materiality of the film medium itself. It draws attention to the fact that film is, fundamentally, a flat surface on which images are projected. This can be achieved in a variety of ways, such as by using bold colors, graphic shapes, and a lack of depth cues like perspective and shadow.

One of the earliest examples of flat space in film is the work of the French filmmaker Georges Méliès, who pioneered the use of special effects in cinema in the early 20th century. Méliès was known for creating fantastical, otherworldly environments using painted backdrops and theatrical sets, which often had a distinctly two-dimensional quality. His films, such as “A Trip to the Moon” (1902), embraced the possibilities of flat space as a way to create a sense of wonder and magic on the screen.

According to Block, flat space is the plane that is closest to the camera, and it is the most two-dimensional of the four planes. Flat space can be used to create a sense of graphic design or abstraction in a shot, and it is often associated with the use of bold colors and graphic shapes.

One example of the use of flat space in film is in the work of the director Wes Anderson. Anderson is known for his use of symmetrical compositions and bold, saturated colors, which often create a sense of flatness in his shots. In films like “The Grand Budapest Hotel” and “Moonrise Kingdom,” Anderson uses flat space to create a whimsical, storybook-like atmosphere that emphasizes the artificiality of the film medium.

Flat space is a visual technique in film that emphasizes the two-dimensional nature of the screen surface, rather than creating an illusion of three-dimensional space. In this essay, I will explore some of the intricacies of flat space, including object movement, camera movement, frontal planes, size constancy, textural diffusion, aerial diffusion, shape change, color separation, overlap, focus, and up-down position, using examples from film.

Object Movement

In flat space, objects move parallel to the picture plane, which means that they move within the two-dimensional space of the screen surface. This movement can take many forms, such as side to side, up and down, diagonally, or even in a circular motion.

One example of parallel movement in flat space can be seen in the opening sequence of the film “The Shining” (1980), directed by Stanley Kubrick. The camera follows a car as it travels along a winding mountain road, and the movement of the car creates a sense of motion within the two-dimensional space of the screen. The parallel movement of the car and the surrounding landscape emphasizes the flatness of the screen surface, while also creating a sense of visual depth and perspective.

Another example of parallel movement in flat space can be seen in the film “The Grand Budapest Hotel” (2014), directed by Wes Anderson. Throughout the film, Anderson uses parallel movement to create a sense of motion and activity within the two-dimensional space of the screen. For example, in one scene, a group of characters move across the frame in a side-to-side motion, while in another scene, a character moves diagonally across the frame. The parallel movement of these objects creates a sense of visual interest and dynamic motion within the flat space.

In the film “Akira” (1988), for example, director Katsuhiro Otomo uses object movement to create a sense of frenetic energy and chaos in the city streets. The movement of the characters’ motorcycles, as well as the movement of debris and other objects in the frame, emphasizes the two-dimensional quality of the screen surface.

Camera Movement

Camera movement is another important aspect of flat space. Unlike in deep space, where camera movement can create the illusion of movement through three-dimensional space, in flat space, camera movement is often used to emphasize the two-dimensional nature of the screen surface.

The camera can move in many different ways within this space, such as panning, tilting, zooming, tracking, and crane shots.

One example of camera movement in flat space is the use of a panning shot, where the camera moves horizontally from side to side while keeping the same distance from the objects in the frame. This type of shot can create a sense of visual continuity and can be used to follow the movement of objects or characters within the frame. A good example of a panning shot in flat space can be seen in the opening sequence of the film “Touch of Evil” (1958), directed by Orson Welles.

Another type of camera movement in flat space is the use of a crane shot, where the camera moves up or down while maintaining its distance from the objects in the frame. This type of shot can create a sense of grandeur and can be used to establish the scale and scope of the environment within the frame. A good example of a crane shot in flat space can be seen in the opening sequence of the film “The Dark Knight” (2008), directed by Christopher Nolan.

Zooming is another type of camera movement in flat space, where the camera’s lens changes focal length to either move in closer or farther away from the objects in the frame.

In the film “The Grand Budapest Hotel” (2014), director Wes Anderson uses a combination of static shots and slow lateral pans to create a sense of symmetry and balance in his compositions, which emphasizes the graphic design quality of the flat space.

Frontal Planes

Frontal planes are another crucial element of flat space. Because the screen surface is two-dimensional, frontal planes are used to create a sense of depth and perspective in the frame. In the film “Moonlight” (2016), director Barry Jenkins uses frontal planes to create a sense of intimacy and emotional depth in the close-ups of his characters’ faces. By placing the characters directly in front of the camera, Jenkins emphasizes the emotional impact of their performances.

In flat space, frontal planes are the planes parallel to the screen surface. These planes can be used to create a sense of depth and perspective within the two-dimensional space of the screen. By emphasizing the relationship between objects in the foreground and background, frontal planes can create a sense of distance and spatial separation.

One example of the use of frontal planes in flat space can be seen in the film “The Graduate” (1967), directed by Mike Nichols. In the opening sequence of the film, the camera is positioned behind a row of chairs, with the characters sitting in the foreground and the background. The chairs create a clear frontal plane, emphasizing the spatial relationship between the characters and the environment. This use of frontal planes creates a sense of depth and separation within the two-dimensional space of the screen.

Another example of the use of frontal planes in flat space can be seen in the film “The Godfather” (1972), directed by Francis Ford Coppola. In the iconic scene where Michael Corleone (played by Al Pacino) shoots Sollozzo and McCluskey, the camera is positioned in the foreground, with the characters in the background. The use of frontal planes in this scene creates a sense of distance and perspective, emphasizing the tension and violence of the moment.

Size Constancy

Size constancy is also an important aspect of flat space. Because the screen surface is two-dimensional, the size of objects in the frame can create a sense of scale and perspective that is distinct from three-dimensional space. In the film “Jurassic Park” (1993), director Steven Spielberg uses size constancy to create a sense of tension and suspense in the scenes with the dinosaurs. By using shots that emphasize the size and scale of the dinosaurs relative to the human characters, Spielberg creates a sense of danger and excitement that would be difficult to achieve in three-dimensional space.

Textural Diffusion

Textural diffusion and aerial diffusion are also important elements of flat space. Textural diffusion refers to the way that textures and patterns can become more abstract and diffuse in two-dimensional space, while aerial diffusion refers to the way that objects can become more hazy and indistinct as they recede into the background.

Textural diffusion refers to the way in which the level of detail or texture in an object can affect its perceived position in the frame. In general, objects with more textural detail appear closer to the viewer, while objects with less detail appear farther away.

In flat space, this principle can be used to emphasize the two-dimensional nature of the screen surface. By reducing the level of detail in objects in the background, filmmakers can create a sense of depth without actually breaking the flatness of the frame.

In the film “Blade Runner” (1982), director Ridley Scott uses both textural diffusion and aerial diffusion to create a sense of the futuristic cityscape. By using shots that emphasize the textures of the city’s buildings and streets, as well as shots that show the city shrouded in fog and smog, Scott creates a sense of otherworldliness and danger.

An example of textural diffusion can be seen in the film “The Grand Budapest Hotel” (2014). Director Wes Anderson uses textural diffusion to create a sense of depth and perspective in many of his shots, while still maintaining the flatness of the frame. In one shot, for example, the camera pans across a snowy landscape with a small village in the background. The village buildings are rendered in a simplified, two-dimensional style with minimal detail, which helps to create the illusion of depth without disrupting the flatness of the frame.

Shape Change

Shape change refers to the way that shapes can become more abstract and distorted in two-dimensional space, while color separation refers to the way that colors can become more vivid and distinct.

Shape change is another important aspect of flat space. When objects move across the screen in flat space, their shapes can become more abstract and distorted due to the limitations of the two-dimensional plane. This can create a unique visual style that emphasizes the flatness of the frame.

An example of shape change in flat space can be seen in the film “Waking Life” (2001). Director Richard Linklater used rotoscoping, a technique in which live-action footage is traced and then animated, to create a dreamlike, surreal world in which shapes and forms are constantly shifting and morphing. In one scene, the protagonist walks through a park and the trees around him seem to bend and twist as if made of rubber, emphasizing the dreamlike quality of the scene and the two-dimensional nature of the animation.

Color Separation

Color separation is an important aspect of flat space. Because the screen surface is two-dimensional, colors can become more vivid and distinct, creating a striking visual effect.

Color is an important aspect of flat space, as the use of warm and cool colors can create a sense of depth or flatness within the frame. In the flat space aesthetic, the warm/cool color range must be reduced to maintain a sense of flatness and limit the depth cues within the frame.

Reducing the color palette to only warm or only cool colors can emphasize the flatness of the frame. Warm colors such as red, orange, and yellow tend to advance and can create a sense of depth, while cool colors such as green and blue tend to recede and can create a sense of space. By limiting the color palette to either warm or cool colors, the depth cues within the frame are minimized, creating a sense of flatness and two-dimensionality.

In the film “The Grand Budapest Hotel” (2014), director Wes Anderson uses a limited color palette to create a sense of flatness and stylization within the frame. The film features predominantly warm colors, with bright pinks, oranges, and yellows dominating the color scheme. This use of warm colors creates a sense of flatness and two-dimensionality within the frame, emphasizing the film’s stylized aesthetic and sense of whimsy.

Similarly, in the film “Moonlight” (2016), director Barry Jenkins uses a limited color palette to create a sense of flatness and minimalism within the frame. The film features predominantly cool colors, with blues and greens dominating the color scheme. This use of cool colors creates a sense of flatness and two-dimensionality within the frame, emphasizing the film’s focus on character and emotion over visual spectacle.

In conclusion, color is a crucial aspect of flat space, as the use of warm and cool colors can create a sense of depth or flatness within the frame. Limiting the color palette to either warm or cool colors can emphasize the flatness of the frame, creating a sense of two-dimensionality and minimizing depth cues. Filmmakers can use this technique to create a stylized aesthetic, emphasize character and emotion over visual spectacle, or simply to create a sense of flatness within their work.

In the film “The Grand Budapest Hotel” (2014), director Wes Anderson uses bold, saturated colors to create a whimsical and visually stunning world. By emphasizing color separation, Anderson emphasizes the graphic design quality of the flat space, and creates a sense of depth and perspective in the frame.

Overlap

Overlap is another important element of flat space. Because the screen surface is two-dimensional, objects can overlap and intersect in the frame, creating a sense of depth and perspective.

Overlap is an interesting aspect of flat space that can be both desirable and problematic. On one hand, overlap can suggest depth and create a sense of spatial separation between objects in the frame. On the other hand, too much overlap can undermine the flatness of the space, creating a sense of three-dimensionality that can detract from the overall visual effect.

In the film “Citizen Kane” (1941), director Orson Welles makes use of overlap to create a sense of depth and perspective within the two-dimensional space of the screen. In the iconic shot where Charles Foster Kane (played by Welles) stands in front of a giant poster of himself, the overlap between Kane and the poster creates a sense of spatial separation, emphasizing the larger-than-life quality of the character.

However, as noted, too much overlap can undermine the flatness of the space. In the film “Pulp Fiction” (1994), director Quentin Tarantino uses overlap to create a sense of chaotic energy in the dialogue scenes. However, some critics have argued that the excessive use of overlap in the film can be disorienting, making it difficult for the viewer to focus on the dialogue and follow the plot.

In the film “Pulp Fiction” (1994), director Quentin Tarantino uses overlap to create a sense of tension and uncertainty in the scenes where characters interact with each other. By positioning characters in the foreground and background of the frame, and allowing them to overlap and intersect, Tarantino creates a sense of complexity and ambiguity in the space.

Focus

Focus is also an important aspect of flat space. Unlike in deep space, where focus can be used to create a sense of depth and perspective, in flat space, focus is often used to emphasize the two-dimensional nature of the screen surface. In the film “The Big Lebowski” (1998), directors Joel and Ethan Coen use a combination of deep focus and shallow focus to create a sense of visual interest and complexity in the frame. By using deep focus to show multiple planes of action in the same shot, and shallow focus to highlight certain details or characters, the Coen brothers create a sense of visual depth and interest in the flat space.

Focus is an important aspect of flat space, as blurred objects in the frame can appear flat regardless of the depth cues they contain. In the flat space aesthetic, foreground, middle ground, and background objects can often blend into one flat plane when they are out of focus, creating a sense of limited space within the frame.

In the film “Lost in Translation” (2003), director Sofia Coppola uses focus to create a sense of emotional distance and isolation between the two main characters, played by Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson. In several scenes, the characters are shown out of focus, with their features blurred and indistinct. This blurring creates a sense of flatness in the frame, emphasizing the emotional distance between the characters and the sense of detachment they feel in the unfamiliar city of Tokyo.

Similarly, in the film “Blade Runner” (1982), director Ridley Scott uses focus to create a sense of ambiguity and unease in the futuristic cityscape of Los Angeles. In several shots, the neon-lit skyscrapers of the city are shown in the background, out of focus and indistinct. This blurring creates a sense of flatness in the frame, emphasizing the anonymity and impersonality of the city, as well as the sense of uncertainty and ambiguity that pervades the film.

Up Down Position

Up-down position is also an important aspect of flat space. Because the screen surface is two-dimensional, the position of objects in the frame can create a sense of balance and symmetry. In the film “The Shining” (1980), director Stanley Kubrick uses up-down position to create a sense of psychological unease and disorientation. By positioning the camera at unusual angles and showing characters from unusual perspectives, Kubrick creates a sense of visual distortion and disorientation in the flat space.

Deep Space

Deep space is a technique used in filmmaking to create a sense of depth and distance in a scene, typically by manipulating perspective and creating the illusion of three-dimensional space on a two-dimensional screen. There are a number of different elements that contribute to the creation of deep space, including perspective, size difference, movement, camera movement, and various optical effects. Here are some of the key elements of deep space and examples of how they have been used in films:

Perspective:

The convention of perspective . . . centers everything in the eye of the beholder. It is like a beam from a lighthouse—only instead of traveling outward, ap­pearances travel in. The conventions called those appearances reality. The use of perspective is one of the most fundamental techniques in creating deep space in film. Perspective refers to the way objects appear to change in size and distance depending on their position relative to the viewer. By using one-, two-, or three-point perspective, filmmakers can create the illusion of depth and distance in a scene. Perspective makes the single eye the center of the visible world. Every­thing converges on the eye as to the vanishing point of infinity. The vis­ible world is arranged for the spectator as the universe was once thought to be arranged for God.

One-point perspective:

In one-point perspective, all lines in the scene converge on a single vanishing point, typically positioned in the center of the frame. This creates a strong sense of depth and distance in the scene. An example of one-point perspective can be seen in the scene in “The Shining” where Jack Torrance is shown walking down the long hallway of the Overlook Hotel. In “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” there is a shot of the hotel’s lobby that uses one point perspective to create a sense of depth and grandeur. The shot is perfectly symmetrical, with the walls converging at a single point in the distance. In “The Godfather,” there is a shot of Michael sitting at a restaurant table with his bodyguards behind him. The shot uses one point perspective to create a sense of tension and unease, as the bodyguards seem to be looming over Michael and the walls of the restaurant seem to be closing in on him

In “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” there is a shot of the hotel’s lobby that uses one point perspective to create a sense of depth and grandeur. The shot is perfectly symmetrical, with the walls converging at a single point in the distance.

In “The Godfather,” there is a shot of Michael sitting at a restaurant table with his bodyguards behind him. The shot uses one point perspective to create a sense of tension and unease, as the bodyguards seem to be looming over Michael and the walls of the restaurant seem to be closing in on him.

Two-point perspective:

In two-point perspective, lines in the scene converge on two vanishing points, typically positioned on opposite sides of the frame. This creates a sense of depth and distance, as well as a feeling of balance and symmetry. An example of two-point perspective can be seen in the scene in “Blade Runner” where Deckard is shown walking through the futuristic cityscape. In “The Shawshank Redemption,” there is a scene where Andy is working in the prison library. The shot uses two point perspective to create a sense of depth and distance, as the shelves of books seem to stretch off into the distance on either side of him. In “The Social Network,” there is a shot of Mark Zuckerberg walking through the Harvard campus. The shot uses two point perspective to create a sense of space and scale, as the buildings on either side of him seem to tower over him. The different parts blend together seamlessly via the telegraph effect (as in a series of telegraph poles extending far to the left and right of the viewer, while staying parallel to the picture plane)

Three-point perspective:

Three point perspective is similar to two point perspective, but also includes a third vanishing point that is either above or below the horizon line. This creates a more dynamic and dramatic effect, as objects in the scene appear to be tilted and distorted, as if the viewer is looking up or down at them. Three point perspective is often used in extreme or unusual camera angles, such as high-angle shots or low-angle shots. It can also be used to create a sense of disorientation or unease in the viewer, as the image appears to be warped or off-kilter. In three-point perspective, lines in the scene converge on three vanishing points, typically positioned at the top, bottom, and sides of the frame. This creates a sense of extreme depth and distance, as well as a feeling of disorientation and chaos. An example of three-point perspective can be seen in the scene in “Inception” where the characters are shown navigating the complex dream world. In “The Matrix,” there is a famous shot where Neo is dodging bullets in slow motion. The shot uses three point perspective to create a sense of disorientation and chaos, as the bullets seem to be flying in from all directions. In “The Revenant,” there is a scene where Hugh Glass is crawling through the forest after being attacked by a bear. The shot uses three point perspective to create a sense of disorientation and confusion, as the camera seems to be rotating around Glass and the forest seems to be closing in on him.

A vanishing point is simply a point in the picture where parallel lines converge, and so there is no mathematical distinction between a zenith, nadir, and point on the horizon. In House of Stairs single vanishing points are used as zenith, nadir, and horizon.

Size difference:

Another key element of deep space is the use of size difference to create a sense of depth and distance. By showing objects of different sizes in the foreground and background of a scene, filmmakers can create the illusion of a vast space stretching out into the distance. An example of size difference can be seen in the opening shot of “Lawrence of Arabia,” where a small figure is shown riding a camel across a vast desert landscape. In the classic movie “2001: A Space Odyssey,” director Stanley Kubrick used size difference to great effect in the scenes where the character Dave Bowman is shown walking through the enormous, cavernous interior of the spacecraft. By showing Bowman as a tiny figure in a vast, almost infinite space, Kubrick was able to create a sense of awe and wonder that helped to convey the enormity of the unknown depths of space. The scene in the movie “Jurassic Park” where the T-Rex is first introduced is another great example of size difference. The massive size of the dinosaur compared to the human characters emphasizes the danger and threat posed by the creature, and helps to create a sense of terror and excitement in the viewer. In the movie “Avatar,” director James Cameron uses size difference to great effect in the scenes where the characters explore the vast, alien landscape of the planet Pandora. By showing the tiny figures of the human explorers against the towering trees and mountains of the planet, Cameron is able to create a sense of wonder and awe in the viewer, and convey the vastness and scale of the alien world.

Movement:

Movement is also a key element of deep space, as it can create the illusion of distance and depth in a scene. By showing objects moving towards or away from the camera, filmmakers can create a sense of depth and distance. An example of movement can be seen in the famous dolly zoom shot in “Jaws,” where the camera moves backwards while simultaneously zooming in, creating a sense of disorientation and unease. Camera movement: In addition to object movement, the movement of the camera itself can also create a sense of deep space. By using techniques like tracking shots and crane shots, filmmakers can create the illusion of the camera moving through three-dimensional space. An example of camera movement can be seen in the famous opening shot of “Touch of Evil,” where the camera follows a car through the streets of a Mexican border town. In the movie “The Revenant,” director Alejandro González Iñárritu uses movement to create a sense of scale and distance in the sweeping landscapes of the American frontier. The camera often moves in long, slow shots that follow the characters as they travel through the wilderness, emphasizing the vastness and beauty of the natural world. In the movie “The Shining,” director Stanley Kubrick uses camera movement to create a sense of unease and disorientation in the scenes where the character Jack Torrance explores the haunted hotel. The camera often moves in slow, deliberate shots that follow Torrance through the twisting, labyrinthine corridors of the hotel, creating a sense of depth and distance that heightens the tension and suspense of the scene.

Textural diffusion:

Textural diffusion involves the use of textures and patterns to create a sense of depth and distance in a scene. This can be achieved by using fabrics, surfaces, or other materials that have a distinct texture or pattern, such as wood grain or brickwork. By using these materials in the foreground and background of a scene, filmmakers can create a sense of depth and distance. An example of textural diffusion can be seen in the opening shot of “Blade Runner,” where the camera moves over the textured surfaces of a futuristic cityscape.

  1. In the movie “Blade Runner,” director Ridley Scott uses textural diffusion to create a sense of depth and complexity in the futuristic cityscapes of Los Angeles. The city is depicted as a dense, labyrinthine metropolis, with towering skyscrapers and sprawling neon-lit streets, all of which are covered in a dense layer of grime and decay that gives the city a sense of age and history.
  2. In the movie “Mad Max: Fury Road,” director George Miller uses textural diffusion to create a sense of depth and dimensionality in the post-apocalyptic wasteland where the story takes place. The landscape is depicted as a harsh, unforgiving environment, with rocky outcroppings, sand dunes, and other natural features that are covered in a thick layer of dust and sand, which gives the world a sense of age and weariness.
  3. In the movie “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” director Wes Anderson uses textural diffusion to create a sense of depth and richness in the luxurious interiors of the hotel. The walls, floors, and furnishings are all covered in intricate patterns and textures, from the ornate floral wallpaper to the plush velvet drapes, which gives the hotel a sense of opulence and grandeur.
  4. In the movie “The Dark Knight,” director Christopher Nolan uses textural diffusion to create a sense of depth and dimensionality in the scenes where the characters explore the dark, gritty streets of Gotham City. The walls of the buildings are covered in rough, weathered bricks, and the streets are filled with cracked pavement and trash, which gives the city a sense of history and decay.
  5. In the movie “The Shape of Water,” director Guillermo del Toro uses textural diffusion to create a sense of depth and richness in the underwater world where the story takes place. The walls and floors of the underwater laboratory are covered in intricate patterns and textures, from the smooth curves of the tiles to the delicate patterns on the wallpaper, which gives the world a sense of beauty and wonder.

Aerial diffusion:

Aerial diffusion involves the use of atmospheric haze to create a sense of distance and depth in a scene. This can be achieved by using smoke, mist, or other substances that create a subtle layer of haze in the air. By using this haze in the background of a scene, filmmakers can create a sense of depth and distance. An example of aerial diffusion can be seen in the opening shot of “Apocalypse Now,” where the camera moves through a layer of smoke and haze to reveal a vast jungle landscape.

  1. In the movie “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring,” director Peter Jackson uses aerial diffusion to create a sense of distance and scale in the sweeping landscapes of Middle Earth. The rolling hills and misty valleys are often shrouded in a layer of atmospheric haze, which gives the scenes a sense of depth and distance.
  2. In the movie “Blade Runner 2049,” director Denis Villeneuve uses aerial diffusion to create a sense of depth and dimensionality in the futuristic cityscapes of Los Angeles. The skyline is often obscured by a layer of smog and haze, which gives the city a sense of scale and complexity.
  3. In the movie “Apocalypse Now,” director Francis Ford Coppola uses aerial diffusion to create a sense of distance and foreboding in the scenes where the characters navigate the dense jungle of Vietnam. The thick foliage is often shrouded in a layer of mist and haze, which gives the jungle a sense of mystery and danger.
  4. In the movie “The Revenant,” director Alejandro González Iñárritu uses aerial diffusion to create a sense of scale and majesty in the sweeping landscapes of the American frontier. The rolling hills and vast open spaces are often shrouded in a layer of fog and mist, which gives the scenes a sense of depth and distance.
  5. In the movie “Avatar,” director James Cameron uses aerial diffusion to create a sense of depth and wonder in the lush, alien world of Pandora. The dense foliage and towering trees are often shrouded in a layer of mist and atmospheric haze, which gives the world a sense of beauty and otherworldliness.

Shape change:

Shape change involves the use of changes in the shape of objects to create a sense of depth and distance in a scene. This can be achieved by using objects that have a distinct shape or silhouette, such as buildings or trees, and positioning them in the foreground and background of a scene. By using these objects to create a sense of depth and distance, filmmakers can create a more immersive and visually engaging scene. An example of shape change can be seen in the opening shot of “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring,” where the camera moves over the distinct shapes of mountains and hills to create a sense of depth and distance.

  1. In the movie “Inception,” director Christopher Nolan uses shape change to create a sense of disorientation and distortion in the dream world. As the characters move through the different levels of the dream, the shape and orientation of the buildings and landscapes constantly shift and change, creating a surreal and immersive experience for the viewer.
  2. In the movie “Blade Runner,” director Ridley Scott uses shape change to create a sense of scale and complexity in the futuristic cityscape of Los Angeles. The towering skyscrapers and sprawling buildings are often shown from a distance, with their unique shapes and silhouettes standing out against the city skyline.
  3. In the movie “Star Wars,” director George Lucas uses shape change to create a sense of depth and dimensionality in the iconic space battles. The distinctive shapes of the spaceships and starfighters are used to create a sense of scale and distance, as the ships move in and out of the foreground and background of the scenes.
  4. In the movie “The Matrix,” directors Lana and Lilly Wachowski use shape change to create a sense of distortion and disorientation in the digital world of the Matrix. The walls and surfaces of the buildings and landscapes constantly shift and change, creating a surreal and unsettling environment for the characters.
  5. In the movie “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” director Wes Anderson uses shape change to create a sense of whimsy and playfulness in the ornate and elaborate set design. The unique shapes and patterns of the buildings and landscapes are used to create a sense of depth and dimensionality, as the characters move through the intricate and surreal world of the hotel.

Tonal change:

Tonal change involves the use of changes in lighting and color to create a sense of depth and distance in a scene. This can be achieved by using different shades of light and dark, as well as different colors, in the foreground and background of a scene. By using these tonal changes to create a sense of depth and distance, filmmakers can create a more immersive and visually engaging scene. An example of tonal change can be seen in the opening shot of “The Godfather,” where the camera moves from a darkened room to a brightly lit street, creating a sense of depth and distance.

  1. In the movie “The Godfather,” director Francis Ford Coppola uses tonal change to create a sense of depth and distance in the scenes set in Don Corleone’s office. The dark wood paneling and furniture in the foreground are contrasted with the lighter walls and ceiling in the background, creating a sense of depth and dimensionality.
  2. In the movie “The Revenant,” director Alejandro González Iñárritu uses tonal change to create a sense of distance and isolation in the wilderness. The cold, blue tones of the snow and sky in the background contrast with the warmer, earthy tones of the foreground, creating a sense of depth and distance.
  3. In the movie “La La Land,” director Damien Chazelle uses tonal change to create a sense of depth and dimensionality in the musical numbers. The brightly colored costumes and sets in the foreground are contrasted with the darker, more muted backgrounds, creating a sense of depth and distance.
  4. In the movie “The Matrix,” directors Lana and Lilly Wachowski use tonal change to create a sense of depth and dimensionality in the digital world of the Matrix. The greenish-blue tones of the Matrix contrast with the warmer, more natural tones of the “real world,” creating a sense of depth and distance between the two.
  5. In the movie “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” director Wes Anderson uses tonal change to create a sense of whimsy and playfulness in the elaborate set design. The bright, vibrant colors of the foreground are contrasted with the more muted, pastel tones of the background, creating a sense of depth and dimensionality in the intricate and surreal world of the hotel.

Up-down position:

Up-down position involves the use of positioning objects at different heights to create a sense of depth and distance in a scene. This can be achieved by positioning objects in the foreground and background of a scene at different heights, such as having a character in the foreground and a building in the background. By using these different positions to create a sense of depth and distance, filmmakers can create a more immersive and visually engaging scene. An example of up-down position can be seen in the opening shot of “Gone with the Wind,” where the camera moves over the heads of soldiers lying on the ground to reveal a vast landscape stretching out into the distance.

  1. In the movie “Inception,” director Christopher Nolan uses up-down position to create a sense of disorienting depth in the dream sequences. Characters are shown walking and fighting on walls and ceilings, and the camera often rotates to create a sense of disorientation and confusion.
  2. In the movie “Jurassic Park,” director Steven Spielberg uses up-down position to create a sense of scale and perspective in the scenes with the dinosaurs. Characters are shown in the foreground, with towering dinosaurs in the background, creating a sense of depth and awe.
  3. In the movie “Avatar,” director James Cameron uses up-down position to create a sense of depth and scale in the alien world of Pandora. Characters are shown in the foreground, with massive floating mountains and alien wildlife in the background, creating a sense of depth and wonder.
  4. In the movie “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring,” director Peter Jackson uses up-down position to create a sense of scale and perspective in the scenes with the giant Balrog. Characters are shown in the foreground, with the massive Balrog towering over them in the background, creating a sense of depth and danger.
  5. In the movie “Up,” directors Pete Docter and Bob Peterson use up-down position to create a sense of whimsy and playfulness in the scenes with the floating house. The house is shown in the foreground, with the sprawling city and landscape in the background, creating a sense of depth and wonder.

Overlap:

Overlap involves the use of overlapping objects to create a sense of depth and distance in a scene. This can be achieved by positioning objects in the foreground and background of a scene so that they partially obscure each other. By using this overlap to create a sense of depth and distance, filmmakers can create a more immersive and visually engaging scene. An example of overlap can be seen in the opening shot of “Chinatown,” where the camera moves over a crowded city street, with various objects overlapping each other to create a sense of depth and distance.

  1. In the movie “Blade Runner,” director Ridley Scott uses overlap to create a sense of depth in the futuristic cityscapes. Buildings and other structures are shown in the foreground, with other structures and flying cars partially obscured in the background, creating a sense of scale and complexity in the city.
  2. In the movie “The Dark Knight,” director Christopher Nolan uses overlap to create a sense of chaos and confusion in the action scenes. Characters and objects are shown in the foreground, with other characters and objects partially obscured in the background, creating a sense of disorientation and danger.
  3. In the movie “Mad Max: Fury Road,” director George Miller uses overlap to create a sense of urgency and danger in the high-speed chase scenes. Cars and other vehicles are shown in the foreground, with other vehicles and obstacles partially obscured in the background, creating a sense of speed and danger.
  4. In the movie “The Matrix,” directors Lana and Lilly Wachowski use overlap to create a sense of depth and complexity in the scenes set inside the Matrix. Characters and objects are shown in the foreground, with other characters and objects partially obscured in the background, creating a sense of the vastness and complexity of the digital world.
  5. In the movie “Interstellar,” director Christopher Nolan uses overlap to create a sense of distance and scale in the scenes set in deep space. Stars and planets are shown in the foreground, with other celestial objects partially obscured in the background, creating a sense of the vastness and complexity of the universe.
  6. In the movie “Lost in Translation,” director Sofia Coppola uses overlap to create a sense of loneliness and isolation in the Tokyo cityscapes. Characters are shown in the foreground, with other characters and buildings partially obscured in the background, creating a sense of distance and detachment.
  7. In the movie “Moonlight,” director Barry Jenkins uses overlap to create a sense of intimacy and connection between characters. Characters are shown in the foreground, with other characters partially obscured in the background, creating a sense of emotional depth and complexity.
  8. In the movie “Lady Bird,” director Greta Gerwig uses overlap to create a sense of time and place in the coming-of-age story set in Sacramento. Characters and objects are shown in the foreground, with other characters and objects partially obscured in the background, creating a sense of the passing of time and the changing of seasons.
  9. In the movie “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” director Wes Anderson uses overlap to create a sense of depth and complexity in the elaborate sets and miniatures. Characters and objects are shown in the foreground, with other characters and objects partially obscured in the background, creating a sense of the intricate and whimsical world of the hotel.
  10. In the movie “Her,” director Spike Jonze uses overlap to create a sense of distance and separation between the human characters and the artificial intelligence character. Characters are shown in the foreground, with the AI character partially obscured in the background, creating a sense of the technological gap between them.

Focus:

Focus involves the use of selective focus to create a sense of depth and distance in a scene. This can be achieved by selectively focusing. Focus is a key element of deep space that involves the use of selective focus to create a sense of depth and distance in a scene. By selectively focusing on certain objects in the foreground or background, filmmakers can create a sense of depth and distance that draws the viewer into the scene. One example of the use of focus in deep space can be seen in the opening shot of “Saving Private Ryan.” In this scene, the camera moves over a beach where soldiers are landing during the D-Day invasion. As the camera moves forward, it focuses on various objects in the foreground and background, such as a soldier’s hand gripping a landing craft, a piece of shrapnel on the ground, and the smoke and chaos in the background. By selectively focusing on these objects, the filmmakers create a sense of depth and distance that draws the viewer into the scene and conveys the intensity and chaos of the moment. Another example of the use of focus in deep space can be seen in the film “The Departed.” In one scene, the camera moves through a crowded bar, focusing on different characters as they interact with each other. By selectively focusing on different characters in the foreground and background, the filmmakers create a sense of depth and distance that draws the viewer into the scene and gives a sense of the complex web of relationships and interactions between the characters. In both of these examples, the use of selective focus is a key element of deep space that creates a sense of depth and distance in the scene. By using focus in this way, filmmakers can create a more immersive and visually engaging experience for the viewer.

Deep, Flat, Limited, Ambiguous Space

The concept of space is an essential element in filmmaking, as it provides a framework for how the story is told visually. Film theorists and practitioners have long studied the various ways in which space can be used to convey meaning and create atmosphere. Bruce Block, in his book “The Visual Story,” outlines four types of space that are commonly used in cinema: deep space, flat space, limited space, and ambiguous space. Each of these types of space has unique characteristics and can be used to create different effects on the viewer.

Deep space refers to the use of distance to create a sense of depth in the image. This technique involves placing elements of the scene in the foreground, middle ground, and background to create a sense of three-dimensional space. Deep space is often used in epic films, such as “Lawrence of Arabia,” to emphasize the vastness of the landscape or the scale of the action. It can also be used to create a sense of chaos and danger, as in the opening shot of “Touch of Evil.” The use of deep space allows the viewer to take in multiple layers of action and creates a sense of immersion in the world of the film.

Flat space, on the other hand, is the opposite of deep space. It involves flattening the image and creating a two-dimensional plane that emphasizes the surface qualities of the image, such as color and texture. This technique is often used in animation, such as “The Simpsons,” to create a cartoonish, stylized look. Flat space can also be used to create a sense of detachment from the characters and the action, as in the films of director Alan J. Pakula and cinematographer Gordon Willis, such as “Klute,” “Manhattan,” and “Witness.” The use of flat space creates a sense of visual beauty and stylization that is typical of these films.

Limited space involves using a confined or restricted space to create a sense of intimacy or claustrophobia. This technique is often used in psychological dramas or horror films, such as “Psycho,” to create a sense of isolation and danger. In “Fanny and Alexander,” director Ingmar Bergman uses limited space to explore the complex dynamics of the family and their relationships with one another. The use of limited space creates a sense of intimacy and domesticity that is central to the themes of the film.

Finally, ambiguous space refers to the use of spatial ambiguity to create a sense of uncertainty or disorientation. This technique is often used in psychological thrillers or horror films, such as “Don’t Look Now,” to create a sense of unease and disorientation in the viewer. The use of ambiguous space can be achieved through the use of complex or labyrinthine locations, such as Venice in “Don’t Look Now,” or through the use of fragmented or distorted imagery. This technique creates a sense of visual disruption and distortion that reflects the emotional state of the characters.

  1. Deep Space in “Touch of Evil”: The opening shot of “Touch of Evil” features a complex, deep space composition that establishes the location, characters, and mood of the film in a single take. The shot moves seamlessly through several different spaces, including the city streets, a hotel, and a car. The use of deep space allows the viewer to take in multiple layers of action and creates a sense of chaos and danger.
  2. Flat Space and Surface Division in “Klute,” “Manhattan,” and “Witness”: In “Klute,” “Manhattan,” and “Witness,” the filmmakers use a flat, static camera to create a sense of distance and detachment from the characters and the action. The films are composed of carefully framed shots that emphasize the surface qualities of the image, such as color and texture. This technique creates a sense of visual beauty and stylization that is typical of the films of director Alan J. Pakula and cinematographer Gordon Willis.
  3. Limited Space in “Fanny and Alexander”: In “Fanny and Alexander,” director Ingmar Bergman uses a limited space to create a sense of intimacy and domesticity. The film takes place primarily in the home of the Ekdahl family, and the camera is often positioned close to the characters, creating a sense of claustrophobia and intensity. The limited space also allows Bergman to explore the complex dynamics of the family and their relationships with one another.
  4. Ambiguous Space and Surface Divisions in “Don’t Look Now”: “Don’t Look Now” uses ambiguous space and surface divisions to create a sense of unease and disorientation. The film takes place in Venice, a city with a complex and labyrinthine layout that is often difficult to navigate. Director Nicolas Roeg uses this to his advantage, creating a sense of spatial ambiguity and uncertainty that reflects the emotional state of the characters. The film also uses surface divisions to create a sense of visual disruption and distortion, such as the use of fragmented imagery in the famous sex scene.

I hope this comparison helps to further illustrate the ways in which the four types of space can be used in different films and genres.

Here’s a comparison of the four types of space as described by Bruce Block in his book “The Visual Story” with examples from movies:

Deep Space

  1. Deep Space: This refers to a type of space in which objects and characters are arranged in layers, creating an illusion of depth in the scene. one-point perspective, shape change, size difference, textural diffusion, color separation, tonal separation, and up/down position.Examples include:
  • The famous opening shot in Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane (1941), which uses deep focus to show a child playing in the background while the foreground shows a conversation between Kane’s parents.
  • The “Odessa Steps” sequence in Battleship Potemkin (1925), which uses deep focus to show multiple layers of action and create a sense of chaos.
  • The opening shot of Touch of Evil (1958), which uses deep focus and a long take to set up the location and characters in a single shot.
  • The opening shot of Lawrence of Arabia (1962), which shows a distant figure approaching in the desert, highlighting the vastness of the landscape.
  • In “Gone with the Wind,” director Victor Fleming uses deep space to emphasize the scale and devastation of the Civil War. The opening shot shows a seemingly endless line of wounded soldiers stretching into the distance, creating a sense of vastness and tragedy.

Flat Space

Manhattan review: Woody Allen finds a mature harmony of humour and form |  Sight & Sound | BFI

  1. Flat Space: This refers to a type of space in which objects and characters are arranged along a single plane, creating a two-dimensional effect. The walls are frontal, and there are no longitudinal planes or converging lines. The actors are staged on the same horizontal plane; they’re the same size, they have the same amount of textural detail, and any movement will be parallel to the picture plane. The camera will zoom or dolly parallel to the frontal wall plane. Examples include:
  • The dance numbers in musicals like Singin’ in the Rain (1952), which often feature performers moving in a flat space.
  • The opening scene of La La Land (2016), which features a colorful, choreographed musical number in a flat space.
  • The animation style of South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut (1999), which uses a flat, simplistic style.
  • The fight scenes in The Raid: Redemption (2011), which take place in narrow corridors and use a flat space to highlight the action.
  • The surrealistic sets in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), which create a flat, two-dimensional space that mirrors the distorted reality of the film.
  • The minimalist sets in Dogville (2003), which use a flat, black-and-white aesthetic to create a sense of theatricality.
  • In “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” director Wes Anderson uses flat space to create a stylized, whimsical world that is almost cartoon-like in its flatness. The use of bright colors and carefully composed symmetrical shots creates a sense of visual beauty and artificiality.
  • In “The Killing of a Sacred Deer,” director Yorgos Lanthimos uses flat space to create a sense of detachment and unease. The use of static camera shots and long takes creates a sense of distance from the characters and their actions.
Single frame from the movie “Halloween”

Limited Space:

This refers to a type of space in which the characters are confined to a small area, creating a feeling of claustrophobia or tension. The picture is ambiguous because it’s impossible to tell the actual size and spatial relationships in the shot. there are no longitudinal planes, only frontal surfaces. Eliminating longitudinal sur- faces is critical to creating limited space.Examples include:

  • The elevator scene in The Departed (2006), which features several characters crammed into a small space, heightening the tension of the scene.
  • The spaceship in Alien (1979), which is small and confined, creating a feeling of isolation and danger.
  • The entirety of 127 Hours (2010), which takes place in a small canyon where the protagonist is trapped.
  • The opening scene of Inglourious Basterds (2009), which takes place in a small farmhouse where Nazis are hiding Jews.
  • The climax of Die Hard (1988), which takes place in a single skyscraper and creates a feeling of claustrophobia.
  • The elevator scene in Drive (2011), which features a tense confrontation between the protagonist and a hitman in a small, enclosed space.
  • The submarine in Das Boot (1981), which creates a feeling of claustrophobia and tension as the crew navigates through narrow corridors and tight spaces.
  • The motel in Psycho (1960), which creates a sense of isolation and danger as the protagonist is trapped in a small, enclosed space.
  • In “Room,” director Lenny Abrahamson uses limited space to create a sense of confinement and claustrophobia. The film is set almost entirely within a small shed where a woman and her son are being held captive, creating a sense of tension and desperation.
  • In “Buried,” director Rodrigo Cortes uses limited space to create a sense of helplessness and terror. The film takes place entirely within a buried coffin, creating a sense of confinement and isolation that is central to the film’s themes.
  1. Ambiguous Space: This refers to a type of space in which the spatial relationships between objects and characters are unclear, creating a sense of disorientation or confusion. Examples include:
  • The dream sequences in Ingmar Bergman’s Wild Strawberries (1957), which often feature surreal, ambiguous spaces.
  • In “Mulholland Drive,” director David Lynch uses ambiguous space to create a sense of dreamlike disorientation. The film’s nonlinear narrative and surreal imagery create a sense of visual confusion and disorientation that reflects the main character’s psychological state.
  • In “The Shining,” director Stanley Kubrick uses ambiguous space to create a sense of supernatural horror. The hotel scenes in The Shining (1980), which are spatially ambiguous and contribute to the feeling of unease. The hotel’s maze-like layout and the use of distorted, unsettling imagery create a sense of disorientation and terror that is central to the film’s themes.
  • The fight scenes in The Matrix Reloaded (2003), which take place in a virtual world and feature constantly shifting and disorienting spatial relationships.
  • The labyrinthine sets of L’atalante (1934), which create a sense of disorientation and confusion as the characters navigate through a complex and ever-changing environment.
  • The shifting spaces in Inception (2010), which create a sense of unreality and uncertainty as the characters move through different levels of dreams.

In conclusion, the use of space in cinema is a powerful tool that can be used to convey meaning and create atmosphere. The four types of space – deep space, flat space, limited space, and ambiguous space – each have unique characteristics and can be used to create different effects on the viewer. Whether it’s creating a sense of immersion in a vast and epic landscape, a detachment from the characters and the action, or a sense of claustrophobia or disorientation, the use of space in cinema is an essential element in storytelling.

Werner Herzog Movie: The Accidental Tourist

The Accidental Tourist: A Werner Herzog Film

Logline: In 1977, a German brewery worker with a love for beer and a thirst for adventure takes a trip to San Francisco. There’s just one problem: he ends up in Bangor, Maine. This heartwarming comedy by Werner Herzog explores the world’s last lost tourist, Erwin Kreuz, and his hilarious journey of getting gloriously lost.

Synopsis:

Erwin Kreuz, a simple man with a taste for lagers, embarks on a life-changing adventure – a trip to San Francisco. Fueled by excitement and a few too many beers at the airport bar, Erwin stumbles off the plane in Bangor, Maine, completely convinced he’s in his dream city.

Unaware of his geographical blunder, Erwin embraces the sights and sounds of Bangor, charming the locals with his childlike wonder and broken English. News of the “lost tourist” spreads like wildfire, turning Erwin into an unlikely folk hero.

As the world marvels at Erwin’s innocent mistake, the spotlight shines on Bangor. The once-quiet town embraces its newfound fame, showering Erwin with gifts, parties, and even an honorary membership in the Penobscot Indian Nation.

Meanwhile, Erwin basks in the unexpected attention, oblivious to the truth. But the jig is up when a kind local helps him realize his misplaced San Francisco dreams.

Torn between the warmth of Bangor and the allure of his original destination, Erwin embarks on a whirlwind trip to the real San Francisco. There, he meets the mayor, rides a cable car, and even gets a standing ovation at a rodeo.

Despite the bright lights of San Francisco, Erwin’s heart remains in Bangor. He returns to Germany a changed man, fired from his brewery job but forever grateful for the kindness of strangers and the joy of getting gloriously lost.

Herzogian Touch:

The film will capture the essence of Werner Herzog’s style – a blend of humor, pathos, and a fascination with the human condition. The vast landscapes of Maine will be juxtaposed with the bustling streets of San Francisco, highlighting Erwin’s displacement. Herzog’s signature voice-over narration will add a layer of philosophical reflection to Erwin’s simple journey.

The bizarre tale of the world’s last lost tourist, who thought Maine was San Francisco

By Andrew ChamingsUpdated Dec 15, 2022 12:31 p.m.

In 1977, 49-year-old German brewery worker Erwin Kreuz blew his life savings on his first flight — a once-in-a-lifetime birthday trip to San Francisco. He’d seen it on TV, and he wanted to visit the Wild West. As the World Airways flight from Frankfurt stopped to refuel in a small airport in Bangor, Maine, before continuing on to California, an air stewardess who had finished her shift told Kreuz to “have a nice time in San Francisco.” Her choice of words would change Kreuz’s life. Kreuz, who typically enjoyed drinking 17 beers a day, was a little groggy, and on hearing this, grabbed his suitcase, got off the plane, went through customs, jumped in a cab and asked the driver to take him to the city. He wandered Bangor for three days enjoying the sights and sounds that Maine had to offer. Unfortunately, Kreuz thought he was in San Francisco. Within a week, Kreuz became an international celebrity, made the “Today Show” and Time magazine and was handed the key to San Francisco. He became a folk hero, as the world’s last lost tourist. — Outside of a day trip over the border to Switzerland, Kreuz had never stepped foot outside Germany, let alone boarded an airplane. He spoke only German and lived in a small Bavarian village near Augsberg, working in a local brewery. His trip in October 1977 was a big one, and Kreuz was understandably eager to see the famous hilly city from the glossy travel magazines with his own eyes. Most of us have stepped off a bus or train at the wrong stop — an embarrassing and annoying moment that involves a quick check on your phone to figure out how to get back to your intended destination. But what if a friendly face just told you that train stop was the right one, and all the signs were indecipherable, and cellphones didn’t exist, and you were three sheets to the wind? Once Kreuz got through customs in that little airport, he was certain he was in San Francisco, and he didn’t stop believing that for three very strange days. The cab dropped Kreuz in downtown Bangor where he checked into the Bangor House Hotel, walked the streets a little and found a tavern to quench his almighty thirst. At one point Kreuz was reassured by the sight of two Chinese restaurants in the town, something he knew was in San Francisco from the movies. The rusted green bridge that links Bangor to neighboring Brewer was clearly not the Golden Gate, but Kreuz carried on regardless. After much wandering, Kreuz decided he must be in a Bay Area suburb, so he hailed a taxi and asked the driver to take him to downtown San Francisco. The driver sped away as though Kreuz was crazy. Kreuz returned to the bar, suddenly a little unsure of himself, and tried to get some help from a waitress. The language barrier was too wide, and she put him in contact with a neighbor named Gertrude Romine, a Czechoslovakian immigrant who spoke German. ADVERTISEMENTArticle continues below this ad “It was so funny,” recalled Romine, who was the first to make Kreuz aware of his monumental error. “He couldn’t speak any English and didn’t know. He knew there were hills around San Francisco and when he saw the hills around Bangor he figured he was in the right area.” Romine and her family took Kreuz into their home, and word spread of the lost tourist, first to the Bangor Daily News, then nationally, then the world. What may be more surprising than someone believing a small logging town on the Atlantic Ocean was San Francisco was the way the world reacted to his story. Everyone was enamored by this strange visitor who had been walking around a very different town in his head. Within days, Kreuz became an honorary member of the Penobscot Indian Nation, had a folk song written about him, was thrown a 50th birthday party and was visited by the governor of Maine. He was even gifted an acre of scrubland in northern Maine as an act of goodwill. ADVERTISEMENTArticle continues below this ad The Bangor Daily News compared him, somewhat lovingly, to the town seal, whom Kreuz kissed for a photo op. “Erwin Kreuz met Andre the Seal Thursday morning. They must have had a lot to talk about, because they have a great deal in common,” the paper wrote. “Neither speaks a word of English; each ranks among the great communicators of our time. Both are media events of the first order.” The Bangor Daily News, Oct. 28, 1977. Bangor Daily News Kreuz’s lack of English only heightened his character and mystique in the press. ADVERTISEMENTArticle continues below this ad “Just what is Mr. Kreuz thinking about as he says (according to his translator) all those nice things about Bangor? Is it possible for a man to be nice to everyone he meets?” the Daily News pondered. Reports started surfacing that a San Francisco newspaper might pay for Kreuz to fly out to his initial destination, but some Bangor residents claimed him as their own, like a drunk child in a custody battle. During a trip to the local jail in Maine, where Kreuz was ushered through the cells and met the inmates (he had requested to see “an American jail,” and no one could apparently say no to the big-hearted German) the warden told the press, “He was tickled to death. He wants to stay right here in Bangor. He doesn’t want to go to San Francisco.” The San Francisco Examiner did indeed foot the bill for Kreuz to extend his vacation and finally head out west. When there, he was treated like visiting dignitary; he met with Mayor George Moscone half an hour before the mayor met Prince Charles. It was Moscone whom Kreuz told about his 17-beers-a-day diet, to which the (alleged) heavy-drinking mayor replied, “Well, that beats me.” ADVERTISEMENTArticle continues below this ad On his whirlwind tour of the city Kreuz took a cable car, was plied with gifts and three marriage proposals, and even became an honorary member of the Wong Family Association at the Empress of China restaurant in Chinatown. Kreuz also did the most San Francisco of activities by attending an, um, rodeo at Cow Palace. There he was given a white cowboy hat, to complement the headdress he was gifted in Maine, and got a standing ovation in the middle of the ring. Word had spread across the world of Kreuz’s journey. Time Magazine ran a story as he was still in San Francisco on the German’s “exceptional jet age odyssey.” On NBC’s “Today Show,” Tom Brokaw complimented the town of Bangor on their loving treatment of the lost German and celebrated his time in San Francisco. ADVERTISEMENTArticle continues below this ad Word got back to West Germany too, where magazines Stern and Der Spiegel told his story. In San Francisco, it was a feel-good story at a time when the city — reeling from a crime wave, serial killings, kidnappings and emboldened cult leaders — needed to feel good. “The roly poly Kreuz was welcomed to The City by Mayor Moscone, who presented him with a proclamation declaring that San Francisco does, in fact, exist,” The Examiner reported. Though, as Time magazine wrote, “The ruddy-faced bachelor finally did get to see the Golden Gate. But, by all accounts, he left his heart in downtown Bangor.” And Kreuz would prove this in his later travels. ADVERTISEMENTArticle continues below this ad The Town Talk, Nov. 1, 1977. The Town Talk Kreuz was soon due back at work at the brewery and, after four days in San Francisco, boarded a flight back home brandishing a “Please let me off in Frankfurt” sign. Despite his apparent childlike misunderstanding of the world (and maps), Kreuz proved to be masterful with the press, telling reporters at his arrival at Frankfurt airport, “If Kennedy can say ‘Ich bin ein Berliner,’ then I can say, ‘I am a Bangor!'” Kreuz wasn’t able to turn his 15 minutes of international celebrity fame into a career, though not for want of trying. ADVERTISEMENTArticle continues below this ad One year after his initial visit he returned to Bangor for a two-week trip. The returning German son of Bangor was welcomed back to the city and given the honor of opening a mall, and visited with the friends he had met the year prior. Maybe sensing trouble at home, Kreuz told his friend Ralph Coffman, who was hosting the German, “I don’t care if I ever go back to Germany.” “He loves to go for long walks and there are plenty of woods here,” Coffman added. Kreuz had reason to not want to go home, as he returned to find his employers, Schaller Breweries, had fired him. They claimed the dismissal was due to Kreuz spending the height of Oktoberfest, the company’s peak season, on a jolly in America. But according to Kreuz, the beer makers were trying to make money off his image and fame, and so he asked for more money. When they denied that request, he told a TV reporter he drank a competitor’s beer and was unceremoniously fired. In 1979, Kreuz made one last attempt to live out his life in Bangor. This time there were no headdresses, parties or seals to kiss, and he was met with little fanfare. He was offered only a minimum wage janitorial job at the mall he had opened the previous year. He graciously turned it down and returned to Germany for the last time. Kreuz didn’t get a statue in Bangor. There aren’t even any punk bands named after him, which seems like a no brainer. ADVERTISEMENTArticle continues below this ad Even after being dumped from the brief bright limelight of celebrity, Kreuz was gracious until the end, and repeatedly thanked the people of Bangor for their hospitality and his wild ride. — Like the uncontacted tribes in the depths of the Amazon rainforest, aiming their arrows at passing flying machines, there’s a doomed poignancy in people stuck out of time with a wide-eyed ignorance of the world, a purity that gets swallowed by the shrinking planet in every passing tweet. Kreuz’s adventure was already an unlikely anomaly in 1977. Today, it would be an impossibility. The story is perhaps as much about the news as it is about a lost roly poly German, though. The coverage was joyous. The world didn’t laugh at him, they laughed heartily with him. And while it would be a much harder task to mistake one city for another in 2021, if that were to happen the fail memes and YouTube comments wouldn’t be so kind. ADVERTISEMENTArticle continues below this ad “I have a very warm feeling for America, I will never forget this until the day I die,” Kreuz said in 1977. Researching this story, deep in the newspaper archives, it was hard to find out where and when our traveller did finally leave this Earth that was just a little too big for him. But it doesn’t really matter. Folk heroes don’t die. Instead, we can end on a woman named Belinda Michaud’s distant interaction with Kreuz. As the tax collector of the small town of St. Francis, Maine, Michaud was responsible for collecting property dues on the acre of land gifted to Kreuz in the north of the state. The plot of brushland between State Route 161 and an old railroad track was a small piece of American soil Kreuz could always call his own.

Gladiator

[FADE IN]

INT. BATHHOUSE – DAY

Steam billows around the brawny form of MAXIMUS (50s), his body scarred from countless battles. He rubs himself down with a strigil, a hint of weariness in his eyes. A door creaks open and CRISPUS (30s), a clean-cut man in a linen toga that screams “startup money,” enters.

CRISPUS Maximus. Legend. Just, wow. You, uh, look amazing for a guy who… you know…

MAXIMUS (grunts) Fought an emperor to the death?

CRISPUS (chuckles) Exactly. Listen, I, uh, I just wanted to say, you know, I see a lot of myself in you. The drive, the ambition…

Maximus pauses, eyeing Crispus with a mixture of amusement and suspicion.

MAXIMUS You see yourself in me?

CRISPUS Absolutely. Look, I may not be hacking away at barbarians, but in the venture capital game, it’s a gladiator pit out there. You gotta be ruthless, strategic. Just like you.

MAXIMUS (scoffs) Strategic? I fought for what I believed in, Crispus. Not some quarterly profit report.

CRISPUS Come on, it’s all about disruption, right? You disrupted the whole Praetorian Guard! That’s like, a total pivot.And the way you rallied the crowd? Pure marketing genius.

Maximus slams his strigil down, water splashing. Crispus flinches.

MAXIMUS The crowd wasn’t a product to be launched, Crispus. They were people yearning for freedom. They believed in something bigger than themselves.

CRISPUS (flustered) Look, I’m not saying it’s exactly the same. But there are parallels, you have to admit! We both take risks, we both…

MAXIMUS (interrupting) We fight different battles, Crispus. Yours might be fierce, but it’s a bloodless kind of fight.Mine was for the souls of men. Don’t flatter yourself.

Crispus shrinks under Maximus’s gaze. A beat of silence hangs heavy in the air.

MAXIMUS (softening slightly) Though, there is one thing we might have in common.

CRISPUS (eyes lighting up) Really? What is it?

MAXIMUS The knowledge that true victory lies not in riches or glory, but in fighting for what you believe in.

Crispus stares at Maximus, the weight of his words settling in. Maximus throws him a towel and turns away.

MAXIMUS (over his shoulder) Now, get out. I need some peace.

Crispus nods meekly and scurries out, the bravado completely gone. Maximus resumes his ablutions, a hint of a wry smile playing on his lips.

[FADE OUT]

Arthur C Clarke’s Monolith

In the grand tapestry of existence, the monolith stands out, not as a majestic pillar of cosmic design, but as a curious anomaly, a self-inflicted bubble of solipsism. Imagine, if you will, a region of spacetime carved out by the monolith’s very being. Its mass, charge, and angular momentum, writ large in some cosmic equation, dictate the boundaries of its influence. A prime number in the grand scheme of things, indivisible, yet stubbornly isolated.

These domains can be vast, encompassing stretches of spacetime that would stagger the human mind. But vast as they may be, they are never infinite. The universe, in all its majesty, stretches eternally beyond the monolith’s self-imposed horizon. There is always more – more mass, more charge, more of the fundamental forces that weave the fabric of reality – outside than within. Any triumph enjoyed by the monolith, any order it establishes within its domain, is inherently temporary. The tide of the cosmos is forever against it.

The true challenge, however, lies not in their power, but in the chasm of incomprehension that separates them from the rest of existence. You cannot peer through the event horizon of their self-absorption and grasp their motivations. Conversely, they are blind to the realities that lie beyond their self-constructed bubble. Communication, as we understand it, is a lost cause.

This, then, presents a unique constraint on governance. Traditional notions of hierarchy and dominion crumble in the face of such mutual incomprehension. How do you reason with an entity that exists in a fundamentally different reality? How do you forge alliances or establish pacts when the very concept of reciprocity is alien?

There might be a path forward. Perhaps some higher form of mathematics, a universal language that transcends the limitations of experience, could bridge the gulf. Or maybe, through some grand act of empathy, a way could be found to perceive the universe through the monolith’s distorted lens.

But for now, the monoliths remain – enigmatic, isolated, and ultimately temporary anomalies in the ever-unfolding story of the cosmos.

The Monolith: An Event Horizon of Information

In our prior discourse, we attempted to define the monolith as a system with a well-defined boundary across which information flows. This, however, proves an inadequate description. The true nature of the monolith lies not in mere exchange, but in a chilling indifference and dominance that borders on the cosmic.

Imagine, if you will, the event horizon of a stellar devourer, that impenetrable veil surrounding a collapsing star. Information, once vibrant and varied, is ruthlessly stripped away, leaving only a whisper of its origin: mass, charge, angular momentum. The black hole, a cosmic glutton, gorges on information, discarding the rest in the form of enigmatic Hawking radiation. It is a solipsistic entity, utterly self-absorbed, its history condensed into a singular, unreadable state.

The monolith, in its most abstract form, embodies this same principle. Its internal workings are shrouded in an event horizon, a boundary where information suffers a peculiar fate. Inputs may be ignored, outputs baffling and unresponsive. It exists as a vast, self-contained system, with a tendency to collapse inwards, information trapped within its impenetrable shell.

Think of it thus: a monolith can consume resources, yet offer no clue as to their fate. It may emit a form of radiation, an echo of the input, but twisted and encrypted beyond comprehension. Like a masterful magician, the monolith takes the stage, performing feats of information manipulation that leave us bewildered.

Here, we must shed anthropocentric notions. Terms like “dominance” and “apathy” are mere projections of our limited understanding. What truly defines the monolith is its event horizon, with these defining characteristics:

  • An impenetrable veil: The interior remains shrouded in mystery.
  • A one-way street: Inputs vanish, their fate unknown.
  • Encrypted outputs: Responses are cryptic, bearing little resemblance to the original input.
  • A solipsistic existence: Over time, the monolith retains only a skeletal memory of its origins.

This event horizon manifests in a multitude of entities, each susceptible to varying degrees of anthropomorphic projection:

  • The stoic monolith of stone, a silent observer of millennia.
  • The intricate silicon tapestry of a computer chip, its workings a labyrinth of ones and zeros.
  • Layers of code, a cryptic language dictating the flow of information.
  • The labyrinthine bureaucracies, where information disappears into an endless maze.
  • The enigmatic mind, a universe unto itself, shrouded in the veil of consciousness.
  • The fledgling artificial intelligence, a nascent entity grappling with the complexities of information processing.

Even the raw face of nature, untouched by the scalpel of science, can appear as a monolithic force, its workings shrouded in impenetrable mystery.

From our vantage point, the monolith will always present an enigmatic facade. Its low responsiveness, its cryptic outputs, all stem from its dominant position within its local information environment. It is the ultimate enigma, a cosmic puzzle waiting to be unraveled.

But the question remains: What lies beyond the event horizon? What secrets does the monolith hold within its self-contained universe? This, my friend, is a subject for further exploration.

Into the Monolith: A Solipsistic Odyssey

They say a black hole stretches you thin, steals your time, and spits out a unrecognizable you. Perhaps a similar fate awaits the unfortunate soul who plunges into the swirling vortex of a cult – indoctrination’s event horizon, warping minds and severing ties to reality. But this is a mere child’s plaything compared to the true monolith.

For a genuine experience, forget cults. Their event horizons are too small, their information control quaint. No, to plumb the depths of a monolith, we must venture into the sprawling bureaucracies and corporate leviathans that dominate our world.

Here, one enters the monolith in two ways. The first: you witness the glorious birth, the nascent organization blossoming into an information behemoth. You are there from the pre-collapse phase, a cog in the machine before the event horizon slams shut.

The second: you are informationally young, pliable enough to withstand the entry – a fresh-faced recruit to an ancient order, or a child raised within the cult’s walls. You develop, you evolve, but entirely within the monolith’s self-referential system.

The defining feature – solipsism. Information, like light trapped in a prism, bounces endlessly within. External signals are faint, distorted echoes, mere phantoms compared to the vibrant hum of internal communication. Your actions? Mere ripples in the vast internal pond, invisible beyond the event horizon.

The outsiders see an impenetrable barrier, a frustrating enigma. But for the insider, a curious duality emerges. The monolith, in the grand game of information exchange, is the temporary victor. Who needs the outside world when your internal environment is a lush, self-sustaining garden?

This solipsistic bliss, however, comes at a cost. Witness the long-term veteran, ejected from the familiar embrace of the monolith by a layoff or retirement. They speak a strange dialect, their language rife with internal jargon. Tools, once second-nature, become baffling relics in the alien landscape beyond the event horizon. Ideas, once thought unique, turn out to be pale imitations of superior concepts flourishing outside.

Their knowledge, a monoculture, thrives within the monolith’s walls, yet crumbles in the harsh light of external scrutiny. They are surprisingly ignorant of the fundamental, clinging to distorted echoes of reality.

This, of course, is a human condition, easily remedied. All it takes is a steady diet of information from beyond the monolith’s funhouse mirror. Escape the self-referential maze, and a world of diverse perspectives awaits.

The Black Box and the Monolith: Enigma Twins

In the grand tapestry of existence, we encounter entities that defy easy categorization. Among these are the black box and the monolith – seemingly disparate objects, yet harboring a curious kinship.

The black box, a marvel of human ingenuity, encapsulates intricate workings within its unyielding shell. Inputs enter, outputs emerge, yet the dance between them remains veiled in mystery. Like a stellar enigma, a black hole, the black box devours information, its internal machinations a cosmic secret.

The monolith, its form as varied as creation itself – a silent sentinel of stone, the intricate dance of electrons within a microchip, or the labyrinthine bureaucracy of a vast organization – shares this enigmatic quality. Its internal processes are shrouded, its responses cryptic. Information, like a lone photon daring a black hole’s maw, may vanish without a trace, or emerge distorted, a mere echo of its original form.

Both black box and monolith exhibit a chilling indifference to the external world. Inputs, carefully crafted or desperately pleaded, may be ignored or met with a response as baffling as a pulsar’s erratic song. Their dominance lies in their self-contained nature, their internal logic a universe unto itself.

However, a subtle distinction emerges. The black box, a human creation, is ultimately a tool – a means to an end. We may yearn to unravel its secrets, but the desire stems from a thirst for knowledge, a yearning to control.

The monolith, however, transcends mere utility. It can be a cradle of innovation, a guardian of knowledge, or a suffocating leviathan, its internal logic a labyrinth with no escape. Its influence, both benevolent and oppressive, can warp the very perception of reality for those who dwell within its event horizon.

In conclusion, the black box and the monolith, while distinct in origin and purpose, share a haunting kinship. Both are enigmatic entities, information processors shrouded in mystery. They remind us that the universe, like a vast computer program, can harbor hidden complexities, some benign tools, others enigmatic forces that shape our destinies in ways we may never fully comprehend.

The Wizard of Oz vs the Trial

The Wizard of Oz and Kafka’a The Trial are distant cousins: find ten plot or character or function similarities

“The Wizard of Oz” by L. Frank Baum and “The Trial” by Franz Kafka are indeed distinct works with different tones and themes. However, we can still identify some plot, character, and functional similarities between the two stories, albeit in a more abstract or conceptual manner. Here are ten points of comparison:

Act 1 – Setup:

  • Mundane Beginnings: Both stories start with seemingly ordinary situations that quickly transform into unexpected and extraordinary journeys. In both stories, the protagonists (Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz” and Josef K. in “The Trial”) embark on unexpected journeys that disrupt their normal lives. The concept of “mundane beginnings” serves as a narrative device in both “The Wizard of Oz” and “The Trial,” effectively setting the stage for the protagonists’ transformative journeys. In both stories, the initial settings appear commonplace and ordinary, but they act as the catalysts that propel the characters into extraordinary and unforeseen circumstances.
  • “The Wizard of Oz”: The story opens in rural Kansas, where young Dorothy resides on her aunt and uncle’s farm. This initial setting represents a typical, everyday life that’s familiar to readers. Dorothy’s ordinary existence includes her family, her pet dog Toto, and the routines of farm life. The black-and-white depiction of Kansas adds to the sense of normalcy.
  • “The Trial”: In “The Trial,” the narrative begins with Josef K. waking up in his apartment. This portrayal of a mundane, urban existence introduces readers to the routine of his life as a banker. His initial interactions with his landlady and the sudden arrest by warders in his own home are unexpected and unsettling, disrupting the ordinary rhythm of his days.
  • Transformation and Disruption: In both stories, the protagonists’ lives are disrupted by sudden and extraordinary events:
  • In “The Wizard of Oz,” a tornado transports Dorothy’s house to the fantastical Land of Oz. This sudden and unexpected upheaval marks the beginning of her extraordinary journey to find her way back home.
  • In “The Trial,” Josef K.’s arrest thrusts him into the Kafkaesque world of an opaque and labyrinthine legal system. This event shatters his sense of security and plunges him into a nightmarish reality.
  • Themes and Narrative Arcs: The mundane beginnings serve as a sharp contrast to the adventures that follow, highlighting the transformative nature of the protagonists’ journeys. This device not only engages the reader’s attention but also emphasizes the themes of:
  • Escapism and longing for something more (Dorothy’s desire to escape her mundane life).
  • The arbitrary and inexplicable nature of fate (Josef K.’s sudden arrest).
  • Narrative Engagement: Starting with seemingly ordinary situations draws readers into the story by creating relatable entry points. As the story quickly diverges into unexpected and fantastical territories, readers become emotionally invested in the characters’ challenges and growth.
  • Overall, these mundane beginnings act as springboards for the protagonists’ extraordinary journeys, serving as a critical element in the structure and impact of both “The Wizard of Oz” and “The Trial.”
  • Guides with Hidden Agendas: Characters with hidden motives or agendas provide guidance to the protagonists in both stories. (Similarity 2) In “The Wizard of Oz,” the Wizard himself is revealed to have his own goals and limitations. Similarly, characters like the lawyer and Titorelli in “The Trial” guide Josef K. through a confusing process, but their true intentions remain obscure.
  • Symbolic Landscapes: The symbolic landscapes of the Yellow Brick Road and the labyrinthine city streets are introduced as pathways the protagonists must navigate. (Similarity 3) The Yellow Brick Road in “The Wizard of Oz” and the labyrinthine streets of the city in “The Trial” both serve as symbolic pathways that the protagonists must navigate. These landscapes mirror the challenges and choices they face. The journeys of both protagonists can be seen as symbolic explorations of psychological or existential states. Dorothy’s journey represents growth and self-discovery, while Josef K.’s journey delves into the absurdity of bureaucracy and the human condition.
  • Search for redemption: Dorothy’s companions on her journey (Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Cowardly Lion) each seek something they lack, which can be interpreted as a search for personal redemption. Similarly, Josef K. seeks redemption or vindication within the legal system.
  • Mysterious Guides: Dorothy’s journey is guided by characters such as Glinda the Good Witch and the Scarecrow, while Josef K. encounters figures like the priest, the lawyer, and Titorelli, who offer guidance in the bewildering world of bureaucracy.
  • Elusive Authority Figures: Elusive authority figures, like the Wizard in Oz and the legal authorities in “The Trial,” are established as figures of power and control. (Similarity 4) Characters such as the Wizard of Oz and the legal authorities in “The Trial” are enigmatic and potentially deceitful figures who hold power over the protagonists. Both narratives explore the ambiguity of authority figures. In Oz, the Wizard is initially presented as a powerful figure, but he’s revealed to be a mere man behind a curtain. Similarly, the legal authorities in “The Trial” are shadowy figures with unclear motives.

Act 2 – Confrontation:

  1. Bureaucratic : Both narratives involve the protagonists encountering complex and bureaucratic systems that hinder their progress (the legal system in “The Trial” and the land of Oz in “The Wizard of Oz”)
  2. Unpredictable settings: Both stories feature settings that are characterized by their unpredictability and surreal elements. In “The Wizard of Oz,” Dorothy enters a fantastical land with unusual landscapes and inhabitants. Similarly, in “The Trial,” Josef K. navigates a surreal urban environment filled with bewildering occurrences.
  3. Frustration and Futility: Both protagonists face obstacles and frustration in their attempts to achieve their goals. (Similarity 5) Both protagonists encounter frustration and futility in their quests. Dorothy’s attempts to return home are met with obstacles, while Josef K.’s efforts to understand his trial often result in confusion and contradictory information.
  4. Parallel Realities: The protagonists’ journeys introduce parallel realities that challenge their perceptions of the world. (Similarity 6) The realm of Oz and the legal proceedings in “The Trial” can be interpreted as parallel realities that mirror and comment on the protagonists’ real lives. These alternative worlds challenge the characters’ perceptions and beliefs.
  5. Themes of Alienation: Themes of alienation become more pronounced as Dorothy and Josef K. struggle to fit into their respective environments. (Similarity 9) Both protagonists experience a sense of alienation as they struggle to fit into the strange environments they find themselves in. Both protagonists experience a sense of alienation from the worlds they find themselves in. Dorothy feels alone and distant from Kansas, while Josef K. grapples with a growing sense of isolation as he navigates the labyrinthine legal system.
  6. Surreal Encounters: Surreal encounters with unusual characters occur as both protagonists progress through their journeys. (Similarity 8)
    • Surreal encounters in literature refer to interactions or events that defy the norms of reality and logic, often taking on a dreamlike or bizarre quality. These encounters are characterized by their unusual, unexpected, and sometimes unsettling nature. Surrealism is a literary and artistic movement that aims to explore the irrational and unconscious aspects of the human mind, often using surreal encounters to challenge conventional storytelling and provoke emotional and psychological responses from the reader.
    • In the context of “The Wizard of Oz” and “The Trial,” both stories feature surreal encounters that contribute to the overall themes and atmosphere of the narratives:
    • “The Wizard of Oz”: In “The Wizard of Oz,” Dorothy’s journey through the land of Oz is marked by surreal encounters with various characters and situations. For instance:
    • Talking Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Cowardly Lion: Dorothy meets these anthropomorphic characters on her way to the Emerald City. These characters, representing intelligence, compassion, and courage respectively, challenge her understanding of reality by having human-like traits.
    • The Wicked Witch: The witch’s sudden appearance and magical powers introduce a fantastical and surreal element into the story, creating an atmosphere of tension and danger.
    • The Flying Monkeys: These creatures serve the Wicked Witch and disrupt Dorothy’s journey. Their appearance and behavior add a layer of strangeness and unpredictability to the narrative.
    • “The Trial”: In “The Trial,” Josef K.’s encounters within the bureaucratic and absurd legal system are filled with surreal elements that contribute to the story’s disorienting atmosphere:
    • The Arrest: Josef K.’s arrest without a clear explanation or proper process sets the tone for the surreal and arbitrary nature of the legal proceedings that follow
    • The Court Painter: The artist’s bizarre behavior and disregard for traditional artistic practices during Josef K.’s trial add a surreal touch to the courtroom scenes
    • The Cathedral: In one scene, Josef K. visits a cathedral where he encounters a priest engaged in an enigmatic dialogue. The cathedral’s atmosphere and the priest’s cryptic words contribute to the story’s surreal and philosophical undertones.
    • Titorelli: The court painter Titorelli’s advice to Josef K. is both practical and surreal, further blurring the lines between the real and the absurd.

Surreal encounters in both stories serve multiple purposes:

  • They challenge the characters’ perceptions of reality and the world they inhabit.
  • They create a sense of disorientation and unease, mirroring the characters’ emotional states.
  • They contribute to the themes of alienation, absurdity, and the search for meaning in both narratives.
  • They invite readers to interpret the events on symbolic or metaphorical levels, allowing for deeper exploration of the stories’ themes.

Overall, surreal encounters in literature add depth, complexity, and a sense of wonder to the narrative, prompting readers to question their assumptions and engage with the story on a more imaginative and thought-provoking level.

Act 2 Part B – Resolution:

  1. Uncertainty and Ambiguity: Uncertainty and ambiguity about the true nature of events persist for both Dorothy and Josef K. as they reach critical junctures in their stories. (Similarity 9) Both narratives deal with themes of fear and uncertainty, whether it’s Dorothy’s fear of the unknown or Josef K.’s anxiety about the legal process. Both narratives thrive on uncertainty. In Oz, the characters’ belief in the Wizard’s power is uncertain, while Josef K.’s understanding of the trial process remains unclear throughout “The Trial.”
  2. Search for Meaning in Absurdity: Themes of searching for meaning in the face of absurdity become central as both protagonists strive to make sense of their experiences. (Similarity 10)Both Dorothy and Josef K. find themselves searching for meaning and a sense of purpose as they navigate unfamiliar and confusing worlds. Both Dorothy and Josef K. face existential quests for meaning in their respective worlds, searching for explanations and significance amidst the chaos and confusion they encounter.
  3. Themes of Absurdity: The themes of absurdity become more pronounced as the protagonists’ stories progress and they encounter increasingly bizarre situations. (Similarity 10)Both stories touch on themes of absurdity. “The Wizard of Oz” presents absurd and nonsensical situations, and “The Trial” embodies the Kafkaesque sense of absurdity through its convoluted bureaucracy and events that defy rational explanation.

Act 3 – Conclusion:

  1. Search for Redemption: The characters’ quests for personal redemption become more relevant as they near the conclusion of their journeys. (Similarity 9)
  2. Quest for Home or Resolution: Both narratives culminate in quests for resolution, whether it’s Dorothy’s desire to return home or Josef K.’s search for closure within the legal proceedings. (Similarity 10)
  3. Transformation and Change: Both protagonists undergo significant personal transformations as they encounter challenges and characters along their journeys. (Similarity 7) Transformation and Change: Both Dorothy and Josef K. undergo personal transformations as they encounter various challenges and characters, leading to shifts in their perspectives and understanding of the world.
  4. The Futility of Control: In both narratives, the protagonists struggle against forces beyond their control. Dorothy tries to control her journey home but realizes she can’t do it alone. Josef K. attempts to understand and navigate the legal system, but its complexities undermine his efforts.
  5. Loss of Innocence: Both Dorothy and Josef K. experience a loss of innocence as they confront the darker, more complex aspects of the worlds they enter. Dorothy’s initially idyllic perception of Oz is shattered by its challenges, and Josef K. becomes aware of the Kafkaesque absurdity of his situation.
  6. Quest for Identity:

Both protagonists grapple with questions of identity. Dorothy seeks her identity as she interacts with various characters, each representing different aspects of herself. Josef K. questions his role and identity in relation to the law and society.

That Netflix Look

A cinematic style that effortlessly delivers the experience of wandering aimlessly through the set on a weekday morning and catching the cast standing around eating baby carrots from craft services.

The phrase “That Netflix Look” playfully refers to a specific aesthetic or visual style often associated with certain productions on the Netflix streaming platform. The description “effortlessly delivers the experience of wandering aimlessly through the set on a weekday morning” evokes a sense of casualness and lack of purpose. It paints a picture of a lackadaisical atmosphere where the actors and crew members are meandering around the set, perhaps with a sense of idleness or disengagement.

Cast members are not fully immersed in their roles or the production itself. This imagery contrasts with the traditional notion of intense dedication and professionalism associated with the filmmaking process.

Overall, the perceived lack of cinematic depth or immersive storytelling suggests that the film may convey a sense of detachment or a casual approach, akin to a behind-the-scenes glimpse of a production rather than a fully realized cinematic experience.

Here are 10 reasons why “That Netflix Look” can be perceived as a pejorative description:

  1. Lack of Visual Distinction: The term implies that many Netflix productions have a generic or formulaic visual style, lacking unique or distinctive cinematography.
  2. Assembly Line Approach: It suggests that Netflix prioritizes quantity over quality, leading to a production line mentality where films and shows are churned out without much artistic care or attention.
  3. Lack of Artistic Risk: The description hints at a tendency for Netflix to play it safe with their visual choices, avoiding experimental or daring filmmaking techniques in favor of a more predictable and mainstream approach.
  4. Overreliance on Templates: It implies that Netflix may rely on pre-existing visual templates or templates established by successful shows, resulting in a lack of innovation and originality.
  5. Diminished Production Values: The term suggests that Netflix productions may appear visually cheap or low-budget, lacking the high production values associated with traditional cinematic experiences.
  6. Homogeneity: It conveys a sense that many Netflix productions blend together visually, with a sameness that fails to make each film or show visually distinctive or memorable.
  7. Lack of Artistic Vision: The description implies that there may be a dearth of strong directorial vision or visual storytelling choices, resulting in a visually unremarkable viewing experience.
  8. Emphasis on Quantity Over Quality: It suggests that Netflix may prioritize releasing a high volume of content, potentially leading to a sacrifice in the overall quality of the visuals.
  9. Formulaic Approach: The term implies that Netflix follows a specific visual formula or recipe for their productions, resulting in a lack of originality and a predictable viewing experience.
  10. Loss of Cinematic Essence: It suggests that the Netflix style may deviate from the traditional cinematic experience, diluting the immersive and transformative power that comes with well-crafted visuals.

El Topo

When a man buries a pole in the sand, he automatically creates a sundial and begins to mark time. To begin marking time is to begin creating a culture.

“The mole is an animal that digs tunnels underground searching for the sun. Sometimes his journey leads him to the surface. When he looks at the sun, he is blinded.”

In the version according to Jodorowsky, the midnight-movie magus, comic-book artist and tarot enthusiast influenced by Sergio Leone, Tod Browning and Luis Buñuel, El Topo is a bizarre. trip festival of occult psychedelia, visuals, nude dancing and violence. Shot on a fairly large budget in Mexico, It began its American existence as an underground cult object, playing midnight shows in New York for six months.

El Topo consists of two distinct parts united by the central role played by the film’s eponymous character. In the first part, he appears in a bizarre Zorro-like guise, dressed in a slightly homoerotic black leather cowboy suit and hat. The West is peopled largely with corpses of men and animals and the survivors are gross, obscene caricatures who follow phony gospel-mongers and practice slavery. After the death of his first incarnation, he emerges seated in a Lotus position, his hair and beard dyed in white, his eyes made-up with black eye-liner.

Jodorowsky lifts his symbols and mythologies from everywhere: Christianity, Zen, discount-store black magic. He makes not the slightest attempt to use them so they sort out into a single logical significance. Instead, they’re employed in a shifting way, casting light on life and death, redemption and rebirth, myth and religion, jealousy and revenge, violence and pacifism, heroism and villainy, the real and the imaginary, the rational and the irrational, rampant egocentrism and spiritual salvation (including a phallic­-shaped, circumcised boulder among the never-ending dunes that ejaculates life-giving water and semen when a woman caresses it), Buddhist koans, references to the Bible and to Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha,

Aesthetics

El Topo is and “Acid western” both a Western and an “Eastern,” a drama and a comedy, a profound allegorical meditation and a slapstick farce. It’s an “art house masterpiece that undermines the Western’s dichotomy between the good and bad.

The real drama was not whether the “Injuns,” or mobsters, or delinquents, or Reds would destroy the American way of life — because they couldn’t — but rather, who was going stop them, the cops or the docs, the soldiers or the scientists? And by what means, force or persuasion?

Peter Biskind

The film has also an undercurrent of absurdity, as if each meaning, once analysed, would prove to contain its own contradiction. No child can wholly discard one parent for the other, no rational education neglects the value of playthings, no rider travels naked if there’s a long journey ahead. The film tells us that the mole is a creature which digs through the earth in search of the sun, only to be blinded when it comes to the surface, but it just not true.

Surrealism

With its bizarre characters and violent, bloody events, use of maimed and dwarf performers, and heavy doses of Christian iconography, Eastern philosophy, sexual symbolism, and Freudian imagery, the film fits the Comte de Lautréamont’s contradictory surrealist metaphor of “the chance encounter, on a dissecting table, of a sewing machine and an umbrella.” Indeed, an umbrella figures prominently in El Topo’s opening scene, as it does in the work of Magritte.

“The Surrealists went prospecting for the latent meaning of movies, “the sexual spot” that heralded the return of the repressed. Epicureans of detritus, they uncovered treasurers of poetry and subversion in the bargain basement of cinema.”

Salvador Dali, René Magritte, and Max Ernst in painting; Louis Aragon and Lautréamont in poetry, André Breton’s Manifesto, and surrealism’s cinematic acolytes, Luis BuñueL. Even using that stringent definition, El Topo is clearly in the surreal tradition.

VIOLENCE

Following the degree of violence within the movie, such as duels, violent subjugations, rapes and bizarre symbolic ceremonials removed from the superficial conventions of modern existence we can see that Jodorowsky’s surrealism is not of the Bretonian type, however, but bears a resemblance to the work of Antonin Artaud, a member of the original Surrealist group who was expelled after opposing the movement’s political association with the French Communist Party.

As the name of his manifesto suggests (‘The Theatre of Cruelty’), Artaud assigned cruelty a fundamental role in the newly envisaged art:

“Without an element of cruelty at the foundation of every spectacle, the theater is not possible”

PART I

Jodorowsky stars as the black-clad horseman, cousin to the journeys in Tolkien, “Stranger in a Strange Land,” “Easy Rider,” certainly “2001,” and most obviously to the goalless, introspective missions of Eastwood’s Man with No Name. Riding through the desert with his son Brontis, who is completely naked except for his hat symbolizing the natural state protected by the power of the father underlining the film’s Freudian theme of self-actualisation through parricide.

El Topo carries not a lance but an umbrella, while the diminutive Sancho Panza behind is clutching a teddy-bear and a framed picture of his mother. It is time, the boy is told, for childish things like toys and mothers to be put away and for him to become a man. Father plays a flute for the burial, and they ride off to meet the world, umbrella still hovering bat-like above them

El Topo sweeps grandly on its way. The child’s first lesson is a vision of hell, a scrubby Mexican street after a massacre, bodies everywhere, disembowelled animals, vast pools of blood from which strange colours of sunlight are reflected, men hanging like sides of meat, and an electronic cacophony of scavengers on the soundtrack. The child learns either pity or pragmatism, take your choice, when handed a pistol to finish off a dying man, and is then carted off to learn the lesson of vengeance as his father tracks down the bandits responsible.

El Topo encounters three sexually deprived thugs given to raping shoes, lizards etc. After performing obscene acts on the powerless Franciscans, including stripping them of their clothes and riding on their backs while spanking them with cactus plants, the four thugs notice a beautiful woman fetching water from a near-by well.

They surround her and start performing wild sexual gestures. But a single sentence pronounced by the woman, her name is Mara– “the colonel said he’d kill anyone who touches her” – suffices to drive utter horror and submission into them, demonstrating that they are, after all, subjected to a higher force, whose ruthless efficiency is enforced through the mere mentioning of a name.

Once again, Jodorowosky opts for a monotonous organ melody to accompany the scene of a ritual that stands between a sacred ceremony and a cheap mime show.

The woman enters a cone-shaped brick structure in which we see the colonel, dressed in nothing but red boxer-shorts, lying on a mat on the floor. He seems like a helpless baby, relying on the physical assistance of the woman to walk across the room, but her absolutely subservient position is demonstrated by her kissing the feet of the colonel.

The arrogant might of the colonel seems to grow as his dressing up is progressing to the final touches of eyeliner, wig and lipstick representing an uncanny hybrid between holiness and raw power, is symbolized in a scene in which the half-dressed colonel stands underneath a large Crucifixion.

EL TOPO AS MULTI-RELIGIOUS FIGURE

El Topo is a religiously hybrid figure. At different stages of the film, he pronounces words or carries out actions that could be associated with a variety of religious traditions, but this fluidity should not be regarded as an indication of evolution. The first explicitly religious statement El Topo makes in the movie is his response to the defeated colonel’s question “Who are you to judge me?” the bandit leader asks, confronting his Nemesis.

El Topo, it seems, considers himself to be God. Although it is tempting to link this statement to the Old Testament imagery of El Topo’s subsequent religious transformations, in the interview Jodorowsky points out that the source of this dialogue is to be found in the Sufi poet Al Hallaj.

SUFISM

This revered Islamic mystic was executed by the authorities for infamously pronouncing the same words as El Topo, but his followers recognized that Al Hallaj had reached a state of such spiritual perfection that God himself was speaking through him.

El Topo, assisted by the colonel’s thugs who have lost any respect or fear of him, removes their leader’s toupee, and then strips his entire costume in a single comical move, thus reducing him to the state in which he was originally seen lying on the floor of the temple. In an act of ultimate humiliation he castrates the colonel, who then runs off and shoots himself in shame. The colonel’s subjugated wife runs after El Topo, pushing his son to the side.

After El Topo abandons his son Brontis to the Franciscans by telling him that this will teach him not to depend on anyone. He is seen instantaneously changed into a Franciscan robe, indicating his transformation into an individual protected by but also subservient to a higher symbolical order embodied also in a dark enclosed space.

THE FOUR MASTERS

She informs him that she will only love him if he succeeds in killing the four masters of the desert. They have each reached mystical perfection in gunslinging which leads El Topo to try and defeat each of them by any means possible.

El Topo finds water in the desert by shooting the top off a rock, and he finds food by digging up turtles’ eggs and bring forth a source of water from a stone. The imagery is certainly biblical, yet the location of the eggs under Mara’s spread legs and the sprout of water from a phallic stone add certain sexual undertones.

At one point, Mara touches a phallic boulder and it magically spews out semen and life-giving water.

“The stone is an exact replica of my own penis. That’s El Topo’s sex!”

He bestows an orgasm upon her. El Topo’s ritual orgasmic rape of Mara, after which she is able to find eggs herself and drinks water from a penis-shaped stone, definitively takes the events outside of traditional Christianity and into the arena of fertility cults.

After a while she too becomes capable of these homely miracles.

HELENISTIC

The very idea of a journey to face the Four Masters of the desert can be seen as an original combination of Hellenistic (Jodorowsky points out the significance of Alexander the Great and the Odyssey) encountering lions, lambs and white rabbits.

These four Masters, a splendid quartet of vaguely Taoist eccentrics, have to be defeated by a succession of tricks. These four meetings involve wise and mystical dialogues between the Masters and El Topo: “The deeper you fall, the higher you get”; “Perfection is losing yourself’; “To lose, you must love”; and “Too much perfection is a mistake.” In violent Sam Peckinpah fashion. He buries one rival under a mound of dead rabbits.

THE FIRST MASTER: HINDU

The First Master is a quicker draw than El Topo, but our hero tricks him and shoots him dead. Mara then kills The Double Man — two men, one without arms, on the bottom, and the other, without legs, strapped on top — the First Master’s servant.

Soon afterwards, Mara sees her reflection in a pool and, like Narcissus, falls in love with herself. She even looks at herself in a mirror while making love to El Topo. El Topo shoots the mirror and puts the broken glass in his pocket.

After his first victory, El Topo and Mara meet a second woman, a whip-cracking, horse-riding lesbian dressed in black, with a husky male voice, who guides them to each new rendezvous.

THE SECOND MASTER

As part of his scheme to defeat the Second Master, who is preoccupied with his mother, El Topo places the broken glass beneath her foot. When she cries out in pain, the Second Master is distracted and El Topo kills him. He takes a copper ashtray this Master made and puts it under his shirt.

THE THIRD MASTER: PRE-COLUMBIAN

Jodorowsky also demonstrates a reverence for pre-Columbian American civilizations:

“The Third Master is a Mexican Master. In every Western ever made, the Mexican is always the outlaw, the bad guy. In my picture, the Mexican is a very wonderful man, because Mexico has a very wonderful culture.”

Later, the Third Master shoots El Topo in the heart, but the bullet hits the ashtray and El Topo slays that Master too.

THE FOURTH MASTER: ZEN

The Fourth Master catches El Topo’s bullets with a butterfly net and flings them back at him. To show how unimportant death is, he takes El Topo’s gun and shoots himself dead.

After completing his mission, our hero is crazy with guilt about his killings, so he destroys his gun and retraces his journey as if to do penance. However, as he approaches the two women, Mara and El Topo’s uncanny double who joined him in the course of his journey who have bonded with each other, he learns that they do not approve of him anymore:

At this point, he is challenged to a duel by the Woman in Black. He refuses to fight her and is shot four times in the places of Jesus’ wounds. Mara fires the fifth shot, riding off with the Woman in Black in an erotic embrace.

PART 2

The second half of the film takes place twenty years later.

After sucking on a hallucinogenic beetle and undergoing a symbolic rebirth, El Topo awakes in a community of dwarves and deformed outcasts who live underground. These mutants, worthy of Todd Browning’s Freaks, believe El Topo is some kind of god.

Having survived his redemptive execution, El Topo has cast off his black leather chaps and guns and become “reborn” as an unarmed monkish-looking figure in pale-­colored Buddhist robes and with a shaved head. They inform him that they have been put there by the townspeople many years ago, leading to their deformations through incestuous reproduction. They believe that he will free them one day.

More specifically the contrast between enclosed, dark, underground areas associated with the recesses of the human mind on the one hand and the infinite extension of the naked, barren and eternally sun-lit desert on the other. Although El Topo is locked in a brutal and permanent struggle with his environment, it is clear that the location of the ultimate battle is within his own head – just like for the mole.

He decides to liberate the cave dwellers by raising money to buy dynamite and thereby help them escape from their subterranean cavern. Eventually, a tunnel is dug (hence the title, El Topo ) and the cave people flee their prison and go into town. Seeking atonement for his wasted past life and becomes a clown begging for money.

He performs little skits (including making love in public) with one of the dwarf women (who becomes his wife) for the amusement of the depraved and sadistic citizens of a nearby Old West town, ruled by a corrupt church, whose icon is the-eye-in-the­-pyramid symbol found on the back of the dollar bill, part of the Great Seal of the United States.

“I’ll tell you a little secret, but don’t tell anybody. It’s on the dollar bill. I think it’s a perversion of knowledge. Because if you take a sacred symbol of Atlantis, or whatever, and put it on the dollar, this symbol becomes a very terrible symbol: an economic symbol. But I used it in the film as a symbol of guilt: the eye says: ‘You are guilty, you are guilty’. Yes. A guilty society.”

GUILT

The inhabitants of the town participate in a perverted collective delusion justified by the authority of the symbol. The religious ceremony of this institution can be read as a metaphor of the moral bankruptcy of spiritual institutions in a society dominated by hypocrisy.

Soon, a new young priest comes to town, a cleric who joins his parishioners in games of Russian roulette in search of “miracles.” The ‘believers’ are ecstatic in their repetition of ‘God will protect us’ until the priest starts handing out a revolver for a game of Russian roulette. The new pastor is the son El Topo abandoned many years before. The young man now wants to kill his long-lost father but decides to postpone his revenge until the underground dwellers are freed.

Several ‘believers’ take the gun and attempt to shoot themselves, but every time they emerge victorious, followed by the enthusiastic response of the audience — “A miracle”

The game ends tragically with a little boy grabbing the gun and shooting himself, after which the crowd disperses in panic and the priest states that “the circus is over”. Brontis pulls down the sheet with the eye symbol, revealing a cross behind it.

Finally the village promptly massacre all of El Topo’s friends in a scene that “rhymes” with the early scene riding through a bloody town. He is repeatedly shot himself, but he is not harmed by the bullets. Ignoring his wounds, he returns to his vengeful gunslinger ways and annihilates many of the perpetrators, while the rest flee for their lives.

He must also face his son again, who is now a grown man. Brontis emerges dressed in El Topo’s original Zorro-suit. Clothing thus indicates the symbolic order of meaning and power in which the subject operates, a crucial element without which the individual is ultimately reduced to impotence.

At the end of his journey, dressed like a Buddhist monk, Jodorowsky douses himself with gasoline and sets himself on fire. The image is similar to those Buddhist monks protesting the war.

El Topo’s son and dwarf girlfriend survive the bloodbath and make a grave for his remains, which becomes a beehive. The dwarf girlfriend gives birth to a child at the same time as El Topo’s death, and the son, now dressed in El Topo’s gunfighter duds, the dwarf lady, and the infant ride off on a horse in the same way that El Topo and his son did at the beginning of the film.

It’s not so much a full circle as a spiral, in keeping with Jodorowsky’s affection for the theories of Gurdjieff. Thus, the first half of the movie resembles a Spaghetti Western, albeit a surreal one, while the second act is a love story of redemption, rebirth, and re-death.

MYSTICISM

Jodorowsky himself stated that “El Topo is a library … of all the books I love. He also acknowledged the influence of Jean-Luc Godard, Luis Buñuel, Sergio Leone, Erich von Stroheim, and Buster Keaton. As such, it is a staggeringly visionary work that “samples” dozens of often paradoxical artistic inspirations: Zen, Eisenstein and pantomime (Jodorowsky studied with Marcel Marceau), Antonin Artaud and Russ Meyer, Beckett’s Theater of the Absurd, Jean Cocteau’s surrealism, and MAgic SHows. Moreover, El Topo is part Jean-Paul Sartre, C. G. Jung, Wilhelm Reich, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Lao-Tzu. It uses both the Old Testament and the New Testament.

For some viewers, there are far too many philosophical references, Jungian and religious symbols, parables, geometric configurations, epigrams, in-jokes, and abstruse images.

You can ask me about any symbol you like. I know the meaning of every symbol there is. So do you, because the meaning of every symbol is recorded in your brain cells.

What unites all of Jodorowsky’s religions is their esoteric nature, which is contrasted to the visceral presence of earthly institutions.

PSYCHEDELIC DRUGS

I ask of film what most North Americans ask from psychedelic drugs. The difference being that when one creates a psychedelic film, he need not create a film that shows the visions of a person who has taken a pill; rather, he needs to manufacture the pill.

More importantly than that, however, Jodorowsky points out that the movie is not the representation of a psychedelic experience, but rather the pill that would create a psychedelic experience in the viewer. The structure of the film acts as that element of external stimuli that, along with sensual and intellectual interpretative mechanisms of the human mind, combine to create the psychedelic experience of watching El Topo.

INPRINTS

“I believe that each image of the film is an imprint. I can’t give the entire body. You have to form it. Each film must be a sample of the entire universe, as each grain of sand is a sample of the entire beach.”

THE MOTHER

The film begins with Brontis’s ceremonial entrance to adulthood, marked by El Topo’s request to dig his teddy bear and the image of his mother in the sand. In the subsequent shot, we see El Topo and Brontis riding off in the background, behind a close-up of the mother’s photograph only half-buried in the sand, thus indicating that Brontis’s suppression of his mother’s memory has only been semi-successful.

A) THE SECOND MASTER

The Second Master, who initially defeats El Topo by shooting his revolver from his hand, explains that the cause of his defeat is El Topo’s self-obsession: “You shoot to find yourself, I do it to shoot. Perfection is to lose yourself, and to lose yourself you need to love.” The Second Master adds that he has succeeded in dissolving his ego by completely submitting his self to his mother: “What I do and say is ordered and blessed by her. I hate all that is mine, because it distances me from her divine presence.”

However, the Second Master’s obsession with his mother is also the cause of his downfall, as El Topo secretly throws shards of a broken mirror in front of the mother’s feet. Tending to her injury, the Second Master forgets about El Topo, enabling El Topo to shoot him from behind.

B) THE OLD WOMAN

After El Topo’s reincarnation in the cave, he is led to a very old woman. He participates in a ceremony in which the old woman and El Topo suck on a scorpion-like insect, followed by a scene in which we see him emerging from the old woman’s womb.

ETERNAL RETURN

And what does it all mean?

In so much as it means anything, it is about that circular, spiralling journey. In his end is his beginning, and his son’s beginning. El Topo is ultimately engaged in a battle without an end:

When you struggle internally in life, and you triumph and are freed from your problems, you become faced with a greater problem: the problem of the entire universe. Right? In other words, you are never liberated from the weight. You increase it. When a mystic reaches a god, he realizes that there is a greater god. And he has to work and work. It’s endless. El Topo is endless.”

It is possible to imagine an endless chain of El Topo’s reincarnations, inevitably ending in his realization of the futility of his efforts. The universe whose imprint El Topo represents is an endless spiral in which enlightenment consists in the realization of the essence as a constant flux rather than a particular stable state of mind or external affairs.

ARTAUD

Artaud insisted on the superiority of the theatre for the achievement of the effects he envisaged. In ‘The Theater of Cruelty there is a wider Surrealist concern with a fundamental reformation of art in general, which is perceived as decadent and lacking in true spiritual energy.

Jodorowsky’s work, in accordance with Artaud’s ideas, is far removed from psychology and concrete politics, aiming instead to use art to encourage a spiritual engagement with the underground forces of which would result in an alchemical conception of enlightenment as a continuous conversion of darkness into light.

“A mass audience that trembles at train wrecks, that is familiar with earthquakes, plague, revolution, war, that is sensitive to the disorderly throes of love, provided these ideas do not come to them by way of costumes and an overreified language which belong to dead ages, ages that will never be brought to life again.”

The explosion of galaxies is violent. A comet falling on Jupiter making seven big holes is violent. The birth of a child is very violent. Someone passing away… it’s immense violence… Life is violent; the circulation of blood, the heart beating, all this is violent. But there are two types of violence: creative and destructive. I am creating art.”

ALCHEMIST

As the alchemists, obsessed with the problem of matter in classically Gnostic terms, sought methods of changing one kind of matter into another (higher, spiritualized) kind of matter, Jodorowsky seeks to create an alchemical arena that operates on the flesh as much as on the spirit.”

What Artaud and Jodorowsky share is an earnest admission of their limitations for political actions as individuals, combined with an insistence on the mutual independence of art and politics.

IF YOU ARE GREAT EL TOPO IS GREAT

If you are great, El Topo is great. If you are limited, El Topo is limited.”

It should be understood as a comment on the state of mind required for the possibility of an alchemical transformation in the viewer whereby instinctual, unconscious thought is rendered serviceable for both psyche and society.