What is Time? - The Tree Of Life

While I was watching The Tree of Life I was deeply touched and in a few scenes I was even in tears - without quite knowing why. Something addresses to my deep feelings, and I am happy to conclude it as a response to the spell of the cosmic visuals and the lyrical “stream of consciousness” style together with the exceptional use of (classical) music. I also enjoy very much the "reaching up" motif (lots of stairs, shot in low angle; Brad Pitt is always climbing up or looking up) which resonates to a religious sensibility that is very common in medieval art.

I very much appreciate how Malick managed to extract the extraordinary out of the ordinary (much as in The Thin Red Line). He placed the history of this ordinary family in a context that is much larger than the time and place it belongs too; that is, in the context of the history of mankind (or some may like to call it "evolution"); of the very existence of not just men but essentially, "beings". Which leads to the realization of how ignorant men are about the meaning of their (our) own existence. I am also moved by the father-son relationship which can probably also be read as a metaphor of god-men relationship.

However, there is a part in my mind that resists this film. For me, it works on an emotional level rather than an intellectual level. It doesn’t present the sharp observation and revelation, nor the complexity and density as in 2001: A Space Odyssey (that it is constantly compared to, if not related to), in which every single image carries a meaning and is inter-connected with one and other, and in which the juxtaposition of the images (i.e. the editing) is an important means of bringing about true PHILOSOPHICAL meditation and DISCUSSION on evolution. There is little doubt that the 3 parts of The Tree of Life (beginning of time-the family-end of time) are to convey a meditation of the history of time and of mankind, but there is no strong connection among them and the images (though grandeur and cosmic and absolutely captivating) seem arbitrary. I was about to compare them to imageries in a poem - sometimes we do not ask for rationality and logic in a poem. But then, great poems do carry rich meanings through imageries and the CONNECTION of them. The fact that The Tree of Life is structured like a poem does not necessarily mean that it is sublime.

Exactly what Sean Penn is troubled by - father and son relationship suggested in the flashbacks, or the coldness in modernity suggested in contemporary setting, or both? One can easily say both, as it is quite obvious. We can certainly FEEL it but I do not see we are allowed room to THINK ABOUT IT. The transition to the last part - the end of time (is there really an end - and beginning - of time, if time is but an illusion?) or the Apocalypse or whatever you wish to call it, is quite awkward, and for me, the vision is too simple and predictable, if not harmonious, that looks more like a wishful "ending" than a conclusion after deep thought. (And come to think of it, where are Brad Pitt's Mom and Dad, and their Mom and Dad, and their Mom and Dad, and where are Sean Penn’ s kids, and their kids, and their kids…? Note I am already very lenient, I am not even asking why their images are fixed at different ages. What's the logic? OK, it is either just arbitrary or their images are fixed at their most troubled moment, or even at how they remained in say Sean Penn's mind - but sorry, do all these really make sense? Don't get me wrong, I would not ask such a question if the last part was portrayed as a sort of "internal reality"; which it wasn't.)

Perhaps my ultimate problem with The Tree of Life is that I DO NOT believe there is a beginning and an end of TIME (if not that I am not a religious person). TIME remains a concept that is elusive and enigmatic and unapproachable, if not illusionary as suggested by Borges. To contain TIME and to think that it is containable is a denial of the complexity and mystery of existence. What's great about 2001 is that it doesn't even attempt to suggest a beginning of time - it only depicts the dawn of men; and there is absolutely no end (and no ending).

Having said all that, I am still keen to watch the film again and re-think about it-if I could.

夜露沾衣

我住的地方，跟澳洲大部份地方一樣，一天到晚鳥鳴不絕，清晨與黃昏尤烈。傍晚到天台沉思，晚霞腥紅，林蔭間屋簷陣列，鳥聲依依，不覺想起陶淵明的詩。遺憾的是沒有炊煙，自然也無有米飯之香。

等待被淘汰

昨晚吃飯一檯六人。有人提到某公司招聘，cover letter 以一百四十字（或者是 140 characters ，也就是 twitter 的字限，不記得了）為限。大家興高采列討論，有人提出可以填上自己網頁的連結之類。我說這不是 cheating 嗎？其餘五人異口同聲說當然不，這個世代就是要有策略呀（這叫策略？），要懂得吸引人去看你的東西呀。然後有人說到網絡有些人如何故作驚人語來吸引別人看他的東西、推高網站流量等等，覺得這種做法很聰明云云。我真是 don't give a shit about it 。說到底還是無料到才需要整古做怪吧。在這個充滿網路垃圾或垃圾讀者的年代，流量又代表甚麼？（當然很多人還是很崇拜流量的）

若是職位要求熟知 social media 或 social media marketing 的運作，用自己的連結來做 cover letter 也勉強說得過去，不過我就極不欣賞這種小聰明。我寧願選一個寫足一千四百字（當然條件是寫得好）的人。

我這種落伍的人，還是等待被淘汰吧，嘿。

The Lodger's Femininity

If I ever imagine how Proust (or, Baudelaire) is like - of course we have seen many of his photos, but they are 2-dimensional -, he must have been like Ivor Novello as the lodger in Hitckcock's The Lodger. Oh, beautiful Ivor Novello, walking into that old lodging house so elegantly, living his days - and if also surviving his nerosis, in his own rhythm. His pale face and slender figure embody such sorrow. With him, time is slowing down and becoming eternalised, all that matters is beauty. He is sensitive, melancholic, and above all, feminine (the film goes so bold as using the word "queer" to describe him). I couldn't take my eyes off him for one second. (Who can?)

For me The Lodger is clearly the negotiation between masculinity and femininity. The masculinity as embodied by Joe, a detective who handcuffs his girlfriend for fun, needs no further explanation. In a sense, neither does Ivor's femininity which is so explicit. But if we look at the lodger (and The Lodger) in a symbolic way, we can certainly discover something yet more interesting. The lodger's locking up his gun is symbolically a resistance to his masculinity which is presumed (or required) in a male in the/our patriarchal society. Such is exactly opposite to Joe's behaviour of frequent playing with the handcuffs. (And how much we love the lodger and loathe the vulgar Joe *blink*)

What's more interesting is the murdered sister, and in particular the lodger's mournful attitude. I tend to see it as a mournful attitude towards the repression of his femininity, or more extremely, homosexuality (which parallels femininity), again, as demanded by the patriarchal society. It is actually the lament of his lost self, his other half (this it is his sister, not his lover). For as suggested by Robin Wood quoting Freud, the human infant is already a sexual being whose sexuality is at that stage indeterminate, in other words has the potential of being heterosexual or homosexual, or both (and yet in other words, possess both masculinity and femininity). BUT Patriarchy cannot endure ambiguity and requires "real men" and "real women", and thus operates itself by rejecting homosexuality and femininity in men. (Here is a very brief summary, for more discussion on this read Wood, 'Murderous Gays: Hitchcock's Homophobia' in Hitchcock's Films Revisited. I agree with Matthew Cheng that Wood's essays on Hitchcock are most fascinating) ,

It is thus by no coincidence that Hitchcock casted Ivor Novello, a gay actor, as the lodger, which functions as the realization of femininity. We tend to identify more with the lodger (suggestively the villain, the marginalized one) than Joe the detective. (I do believe there are people who don't, but I couldn't care less about them) Why? Obviously not just because his such a charismatic human being, and definitely not because we believe he is innocent, for the film deliberately suggests that he is not, and we all know that in the original novel he IS the murderer; and Hitchcock's preferred ending which he recreated in the radio version in 1940 is a much more ambiguous one, in which the lodger disappears in the night and never returns. The film version ends with the lodger being innocent and the real murderer being arrested red-handed is none but a result of the studio's reluctance of having Ivor portrayed as a villain. It wouldn't be too far to say that Hitchcock does believe the lodger is the murderer.

So what is it that we love in the lodger? Of course, his femininity, which is in every of us.

Come to think of it, if we ignore the fact that the murderer is arrested red-handed (which, trickyly, is only conveyed in an inter-title - a subtle resistance against the studio's influence, I'd say, and also a subtle suggestion of the unreliability of such news), everything seems to suggest that the lodger IS the murderer. The only question is probably why he can cease killing. One can easily say it is because he has fallen in love, which is true, but not true enough as it hasn't reached the core of the matter. Let's go back to the theme of repressed femininity. If the murder of the girls is a physicalization of the neurotic impulse of repression (interestingly, the sister is murdered in her "coming-out ball"), he surely has all the reason to stop the act as soon as he falls in love with a woman: either the repression has "successfully" completed that no further killing is required to counter the impulse, or the contrary - that he has come to terms with his femininity by not regarding it as something inferior and "unmanly" (as reinforced by the Patriarchy), and certainly NOT something he has to repress/destroy . Clearly it is the latter.

"Only a man who freely accepts and expressed his own femininity can truly love a women: otherwise, "love" becomes perverted into the drive to dominate, possess, and if necessary destroy." - Wood

This discussion owes a lot to Robin Wood's book.

What Italians Like About Monica Vitti

I was having a chat with my colleague who is from Bologna - a place in Italy I'd love to visit very much, apart from Pompeii - (and who reads Umberto Eco and Borges like consuming desserts - damn he was telling me his mates used to go to Eco’s lectures every now and then!!!) regarding Monica Vitti.

How fascinating are these Europeans! I mean, he was telling me what he likes about her is her voice. Voice. His perspective is one that is non-visual; that is sensual. Only when you perceive a woman as a whole, in an organic way, will you be able to recognize the charm in that deep, unusual, sensual voice. He is one colleague that I enjoy having a chat with. (won't even bother to mention Monica Vitti to others)

Something I Miss Dearly

Of my life back in Hong Kong there are moments that I miss dearly, and moments such as the following comes to my mind quite often.

Those who are close to me know that I used to have emotional breakdowns every now and then, always due to the same reason. There was a night such breakdown attacked me that I was crying desperately in my office. I just couldn't stop.

So I made this call to A, who upon hearing that devastating, heart-wrenching, pathetic voice (and knowing all the background) couldn't refuse (some could) to come and meet me.

We decided to meet in a restaurant convenient to both of us. A Tai Pai Dong sort of place (the sort of restaurant I miss A LOT now). And when I arrived the place A told me that he also called B, whom he knew I'll be happy to see (and I was), whom knew all of my stories (well they are not "stories: although at one stage I was made to "confess" that I made them all up), and whom is arriving soon. Normally it was not easy to ask B, who is a hermit, out, especially not under spontaneous circumstances. But he was coming.

With beers and bad food (who cares?) we three chatted and laughed things out. And cursed whoever (that you-know-who) deserved being cursed. I couldn't remember one single thing we talked about that night. but I was back into one piece when we said goodbye to each other.

I never told them how grateful I was but indeed I am most grateful for them and the idea that they are always there for me was one that gave me the strength to go on until that "&^%*@#&^" sort of came to an end. Especially now that, though I no longer have such breakdowns - and I have Tim, I don't have such friends here.

隨想

寫作原來真是一件孤獨的事。它本身並不孤獨，但需要孤獨，需要隔絕。像我現在清靜的時候少，寫的也越來越少越來越差了。

因而我今天也只有心情寫一些片斷隨想。

127 Hours 貧乏得可憐。我在 Facebook 上說：「一個字：撐。我講 Danny Boyle，唔係 Aron Ralston 。執翻把刀呀、就快無水飲呀、拍 video 呀咁，拖長又拖長，重覆又重覆。回憶片斷好抽離，無呀 Aron 隻手咁有血肉。」再補充一下：它的內容背叛了它的標題，那127小時的漫長與沮喪（假設，如有），心理上的127小時，電影一點也無意發掘， Danny Boyle 只是熱衷於把玩他拿手的迷幻攝影與剪接去講一個簡單空洞到不能再簡單空洞的故事（不知是不是性別的關係，整件事其實都不怎麼引起我興趣），童年、過去的回憶十分之 cliche ，也很想當然，不怎麼 personal（假如，那是對一個時代的回憶，也就很不同了），誇他牽扯到存在主義思考我覺得是有點太過了。

True Grit 雖然有戲謔成份（主要是 Jeff Bridges － The Dude VS John Wayne ），但顯然不是一部典型的高安兄弟電影，對我來說最有趣的是結尾－－高安兄弟不動聲息，從頭到尾沒有交代女孩（ Mattie Ross ）的心路歷程，卻在二十多年 Rooster 死後來一個踢爆戀父情結，不知正氣十足的原作有沒有這一幕呢？

說到翻拍，我終於親身體現荷里活熱衷翻拍人家傑作的其中一大理由。這裡的電影觀眾，大多患有字幕恐懼，至令我覺得厭惡的程度：上映的外語電影已經少之又少（比例跟香港簡直不能同日而語），遇有他們覺得不是英語的 alien titles，他們會問「Is it subtitled？」留意，是 Is it subtitled ，而不是 Is it French？、 Is it Italian？Why is it even an issue? 有時真係覺得講多句都嘥氣。一旦是 subtitled ，就耍手兼呤頭。TIM 在大學教 International cinemas，第一課問在座的看過 subtitled film 沒有，舉手的小貓三數（不過至少他們選了這一科，肯看）。要餵食喜歡留在井底的觀眾，唯有拍個英語版囉（當然，這是我的猜想，就算成立，也只是這個城市的現像）。

或許香港觀眾應該慶幸，荷里活的主導至少令我們對字幕習以為常，不會有這種離奇抗拒現像，加之我們的無根、與 hybridity ，令我們對外來文化樂於開放、吸納，也因而有更多機會，接觸外面的世界。 Such is one of the weird moments when I feel proud of Hong Kong...