Assange show

Russia Today lähettää Julian Assange showta, toivotaan etteivät sensuroi Venäjään kohdistuvaa kritiikkiä. Ainakin voivat näimmä rennosti poltella sikareita ja juoda viskiä keskustelun lomassa - tai ehkä kyseessä on tuotesijoittelu.
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http://assange.rt.com/

Päivän "quote"

A Clean, Well-Lighted Place

(Ernest Hemingway)

It was very late and everyone had left the cafe except an old man who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against the electric light. In the day time the street was dusty, but at night the dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he felt the difference. The two waiters inside the cafe knew that the old man was a little drunk, and while he was a good client they knew that if he became too drunk he would leave without paying, so they kept watch on him.

"Last week he tried to commit suicide," one waiter said.

"Why?"

"He was in despair."

"What about?"

"Nothing."

"How do you know it was nothing?"

"He has plenty of money."

They sat together at a table that was close against the wall near the door of the cafe and looked at the terrace where the tableswere all empty except where the old man sat in the shadow of the leaves of the tree that moved slightly in the wind. A girl and a soldier went by in the street. The street light shone on the brass number on his collar. The girl wore no head covering and hurried beside him.

"The guard will pick him up," one waiter said.

"What does it matter if he gets what he's after?"

"He had better get off the street now. The guard will get him. They went by five minutes ago."

The old man sitting in the shadow rapped on his saucer with his glass. The younger waiter went over to him.

"What do you want?"

The old man looked at him. "Another brandy," he said.

"You'll be drunk," the waiter said. The old man looked at him. The waiter went away.

"He'll stay all night," he said to his colleague. "I'm sleepy now.I never get into bed before three o'clock. He should have killed himself last week."

The waiter took the brandy bottle and another saucer from thecounter inside the cafe and marched out to the old man's table. Heput down the saucer and poured the glass full of brandy.

"You should have killed yourself last week," he said to the deafman. The old man motioned with his finger. "A little more," hesaid. The waiter poured on into the glass so that the brandy slopped over and ran down the stem into the top saucer of the pile."Thank you," the old man said. The waiter took the bottle back inside the cafe. He sat down at the table with his colleague again.

"He's drunk now," he said.

"He's drunk every night."

"What did he want to kill himself for?"

"How should I know."

"How did he do it?"

"He hung himself with a rope."

"Who cut him down?"

"His niece."

"Why did they do it?"

"Fear for his soul."

"How much money has he got?" "He's got plenty."

"He must be eighty years old."

"Anyway I should say he was eighty."

"I wish he would go home. I never get to bed before three o'clock.What kind of hour is that to go to bed?"

"He stays up because he likes it."

"He's lonely. I'm not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me."

"He had a wife once too."

"A wife would be no good to him now."

"You can't tell. He might be better with a wife."

"His niece looks after him. You said she cut him down."

"I know." "I wouldn't want to be that old. An old man is a nasty thing."

"Not always. This old man is clean. He drinks without spilling.Even now, drunk. Look at him."

"I don't want to look at him. I wish he would go home. He has no regard for those who must work."

The old man looked from his glass across the square, then over at the waiters.

"Another brandy," he said, pointing to his glass. The waiter who was in a hurry came over.

"Finished," he said, speaking with that omission of syntax stupid people employ when talking to drunken people or foreigners. "Nomore tonight. Close now."

"Another," said the old man.

"No. Finished." The waiter wiped the edge of the table with a towel and shook his head.

The old man stood up, slowly counted the saucers, took a leathercoin purse from his pocket and paid for the drinks, leaving half a peseta tip. The waiter watched him go down the street, a very oldman walking unsteadily but with dignity.

"Why didn't you let him stay and drink?" the unhurried waiter asked. They were putting up the shutters. "It is not half-past two."

"I want to go home to bed."

"What is an hour?"

"More to me than to him."

"An hour is the same."

"You talk like an old man yourself. He can buy a bottle and drinkat home."

"It's not the same."

"No, it is not," agreed the waiter with a wife. He did not wish to be unjust. He was only in a hurry.

"And you? You have no fear of going home before your usual hour?"

"Are you trying to insult me?"

"No, hombre, only to make a joke."

"No," the waiter who was in a hurry said, rising from pulling down the metal shutters. "I have confidence. I am all confidence."

"You have youth, confidence, and a job," the older waiter said."You have everything."

"And what do you lack?"

"Everything but work."

"You have everything I have."

"No. I have never had confidence and I am not young."

"Come on. Stop talking nonsense and lock up."

"I am of those who like to stay late at the cafe," the older waitersaid.

"With all those who do not want to go to bed. With all those who need a light for the night."

"I want to go home and into bed."

"We are of two different kinds," the older waiter said. He was now dressed to go home. "It is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be someone who needs the cafe."

"Hombre, there are bodegas open all night long."

"You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant cafe. It is well lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there are shadows of the leaves."

"Good night," said the younger waiter.

"Good night," the other said. Turning off the electric light he continued the conversation with himself, It was the light of course but it is necessary that the place be clean and pleasant. You do not want music. Certainly you do not want music. Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that isprovided for these hours. What did he fear? It was not a fear ordread, It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all anothing and a man was a nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived init and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y naday pues nada. Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give usthis nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee. He smiled and stood before a bar with a shining steam pressure coffee machine.

"What's yours?" asked the barman.

"Nada."

"Otro loco mas," said the barman and turned away.

"A little cup," said the waiter.

The barman poured it for him.

"The light is very bright and pleasant but the bar is unpolished,"the waiter said.

The barman looked at him but did not answer. It was too late at night for conversation.

"You want another copita?" the barman asked.

"No, thank you," said the waiter and went out. He disliked bars and bodegas. A clean, well-lighted cafe was a very different thing. Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room. Hewould lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep. After all, he said to himself, it's probably only insomnia. Many must have it.

Elokuvan "metafyysinen" musiikki

I

Rainer Werner Fassbinderin monoliittisen Berlin Alexanderplatzin viimeisessä osassa/jaksossa musiikki on lisätty jälkeenpäin ja sen lähdettä ei näytetä, se on ”vain” tunnelmaa luomassa. Syynä voi olla myös otoksen kytkeminen laajempaan kokonaisuuteen, mikä onkin selvää esimerkiksi Kraftwerkin Radio-Aktivität kappaleen kohdalla. Musiikki on kuitenkin editoitu alhaisemmaksi kuin näyttelijöiden vuorosanat ja jotkin äänimaailman äänet - tämä poikkeaa yleisistä käytännöistä suuresti. Elokuvan historia on kiedottu, toki ymmärrettävästi, visuaalisuuteen, joka on usein hyljeksinyt ääntä. Tämä on tehnyt elokuvasta täysin visuaalisuuteen kiedotun mediumin, mikä ei sinänsä ole huono juttu, mutta kun tutustuu laajamittaisesti yksittäisiin teoksiin, voi huomata kuinka ääni näyttää olevan vain jonkinlainen ”erikoisefekti”. Toisissa tapauksissa se saattaa vain tarkentaa visuaalisesti esitettyä, erityisesti silloin kun tekijä(t) eivät ole pystyneet ilmaisemaan asioita halutusti.

Onkin mielenkiintoista, kuinka vähän loppujen lopuksi on käytetty musiikkia elokuvan tarjoaman fiktiivisen maailman rajoissa. Esimerkkinä tällaisesta voi ottaa vaikkapa radion: naurettavan harvoin elokuvissa pääsääntöinen musiikki tulee radiosta tai muusta ”loogisesta” lähteestä. Tai jos tulee, se toimii lähinnä "ympäristöäänenä", jonka tarkoituksena on rakentaa uskottavaa maailmaa. Otsikko siis viittaa siihen, että suurimmassa osassa elokuvan laajaa kenttää on tapana käyttää "metafyysistä musiikkia". Musiikki on tällöin ikään kuin "jumalan" (tekijöiden) maailmaan asettama, se kuuluu vaikka sille ei ole mitään lähdettä. Vähän niin kuin Breaking the Wavesin taivaassa kumisevat kellot. Tällöin se kuitenkin on myös dramatisoinnin, symbolin tai merkityksen alleviivaaja, kuin liikennemerkki, joka ohjaa "oikeille poluille". Tällainen typerä käyttö saattaa saada aikaan - ja onkin saanut jo nyt - tottumusta siihen, miten lukea jotkin kohtaukset. Kärjistettynä musiikki kertoo koska itkeä ja koska nauraa.

Yleensäkin elokuva voisi käyttää ääntä huomattavasti luovemmin, eikä pitää sitä vain vertikaalisesti alempana kuin kuvaa; äänen paikka on samalla horisontaalisella tasolla. Mutta mitä tulee musiikin "metafyysisyyteen", elokuvantekijöiden olisi hyvä miettiä (mm.) sitä, miksi musiikki on jonkinlainen annettu elementti elokuvassa. Siihen on myös "helppo" turvautua: laitetaan Hallelujah soimaan niin kyllä kaikki itkevät, vaikka visuaalinen paino ei riitä. Voisi olla puhdistavaa kokeilla musiikin käyttöä elokuvan maailman sisäisesti, asettaa musiikki joihinkin loogisiin elementteihin tai paikkoihin. Fassbinderin tapa käyttää musiikkia Berlin Alexanderplatzissa tuntuu kulkevan näiden kahden välissä. Musiikki on editoitu niin hiljaiselle, että se kuulostaa aivan kuin se tulisi viereisestä huoneesta, mutta toisaalta mitään takeita ei ole sille, etteikö ääni olisi "metafyysistä". Tietenkin kaikki riippuu myös elokuvan viitekehyksestä, tässä tapauksessa musiikin "hiljaiselle epämääräisyydelle" on selitys psykologiassa.

(II)

Huomautuksena täytyy sanoa, että tarkoitus ei ole säädellä normeja elokuvantekemiselle. On kuitenkin hyvä miettiä tätä asiaa.
"Metafyysinen musiikki" voi tietysti olla isolle osalle ihmiskuntaa "päivänselvää", kulkevathan monet suuren osan päivästään kuulokkeet korvilla! Ehkä todellisuus alkaa olla tällaista?

Aiheeseen liittyen (siis elokuvan ääneen) kannattaa ehdottomasti lueskella tämä maanisen mahtava teoretisointi: http://www.netn.fi/lehti/niin-nain-311/fiktio-ja-esittamattomissa-oleva

Lopuksi vielä otos sarjasta "parasta länsimaista musiikkia 5000 vuoden ajalta": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_swaxOidGU&feature=related
Harmi että Sam Peckinpahin elokuva, johon kappale on tehty ei ole yhtä majesteettinen kuin kappaleesta sikiävä tunnelma. Sergio Leonen olisi täytynyt valjastaa samainen ukko kirjoittamaan itselleen jotain: ehkä kuva ja "metafyysinen musiikki" olisivat kohdanneet toisensa.

Tässä vielä toinen YouTubeilu, jonka ”metafyysisessä musiikissa” ei tarvitse polttaa käämejään – se on myös hyvä esimerkki siitä, kuinka tällaista voi tehdä hyvin: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E9SEFMIBwAs


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Päivän quote:

"Frank: 'Jesus wept'"