NATO’s Secret Armies: Operation Gladio [2009)

Film directed by Andreas Pichler.

https://thoughtmaybe.com/natos-secret-armies/

Reference point:

http://www.journalof911studies.com/resources/2014GanserVol39May.pdf

Formed in 1956.

The year after the Warsaw Pact (Comecon [1955]).

A legitimate fear.

Let me be unequivocal.

In my opinion, communism is bad.

One might even say evil.

But no one should be killed or tortured for their political beliefs.

A crime must be committed in order for rule of law to come into play.

It is not a crime to hold naive theories (like communism) on what is a good economic system.

A Marxist can only be punished insofar as they promote the overthrow of the government.

I do not think Joe Biden was duly-elected.

But I am not calling for him to be overthrown.

That is not my place.

I could play no role in that.

The only entity which could overthrow Joe Biden’s regime would be the U.S. military.

They should do what they think is right.

They do, however, have an obligation to NOT FOLLOW illegal orders.

Would all orders emanating from a President who was not duly-elected be illegal?

I would think they would be.

But it is not my role to decide that.

Our military will either let us suffer and cease to exist as a country (under the criminal leadership of Joe Biden), or they will make their voices heard.

Every time our military follows an order of Joe Biden, they are making the choice that that order is legal and valid.

And that is their choice.

History will judge them.

It is not my place to give the military advice.

Even though they work for me.

And Joe Biden also derives his (stolen) power from me.

I repudiate Joe Biden.

He is not the legal President.

But what can I do about it?

Here’s what I CAN’T do about it.

I cannot act like a Marxist and encourage the overthrow of the government.

I don’t encourage that.

But I do encourage our military leaders to think.

I do encourage our military leaders to take the situation and condition of the country into consideration.

And I do encourage our military leaders to be abreast of the “irregularities” (to put it nicely) of the 2020 election.

It is up to them to decide what to do.

If they think they are following legal orders by carrying out the commands of Joe Biden, then there’s not much I can do about that.

Joe is right.

We the people would need nukes and fighter jets.

But we the people will only allow our rights to be infringed UP TO A POINT.

An unjust law is no law at all.

Natural law.

I reserve the right to peacefully protest and to utilize my First Amendment rights of free speech.

I wish Biden well.

I hope he keeps us out of WWIII.

I wish he would get us out of NATO.

But I know he won’t.

Because he’s a corrupt moron.

I hope the 2022 midterms actually happen.

I hope Bill Gates doesn’t unleash a smallpox attack.

I hope the 2022 elections are actually free and fair.

I believe the 2020 elections were neither free, nor fair.

Trump won.

I am very disappointed with Trump’s stance on the COVID vaccines.

I am also quite disappointed that Trump called Zelensky a hero.

But it doesn’t change the fact that Trump won.

Would I vote for Trump again?

I don’t know.

I voted for him two times.

I might prefer Ron DeSantis, Rand Paul, Ron Johnson, Tucker Carlson, Candace Owens, RFK Jr., Robert Malone, Joe Rogan, Alex Jones…

I think any of these people would make a fine President.

And I am liking Tulsi Gabbard more and more.

Which brings us to NATO.

NATO is clearly (CLEARLY!) at fault in the Ukraine war.

NATO precipitated this war.

And the presence of the USA in NATO is unnecessary.

Being in NATO is an unnecessary danger for the United States.

NATO should not even exist anymore (because its enemies…the USSR and the Warsaw Pact alliance) no longer exist.

NATO is no longer a force for peace.

Was it ever?

That brings us to our current film.

Years of Lead.

Anni di piombo.

Italy.

Guido Salvini.

Good guy.

CIA using groups like Ordine Nuovo (fascists) in Italy.

New Order.

New World Order.

Britain wants to maintain that MI6 are choir boys.

P-26.

But what about SHAPE?

And SACEUR?

Gladio (Italy) reported (“responded”) to SACEUR.

It is GOOD to know how communist revolutions work.

It is GOOD to stop them before they happen.

But it is VERY, VERY BAD to murder innocent dumbasses who are wearing Che Guevara t-shirts.

And it is even worse to indiscriminately bomb banks and train stations to scare a population into not voting communist.

The formula was:

-NATO-led (right-wing) stay-behind networks commit terrorist attack on behalf of US/NATO

-attack blamed on leftists

-population avoids voting for communists out of fear

Children were killed in these operations.

Bombings.

Mass shootings.

All blamed on leftists.

And most (if not all) carried out by right-wing paramilitary groups under orders from US/NATO.

P26.

Switzerland.

Felice Casson.

Good guy.

Daniele Ganser (whose article I posted near the top of the page).

Good guy.

Italian intelligence may have stolen the 2020 U.S. election.

Via the military/satellite company Leonardo.

In the days of Gladio, the prime mover within Italy was SISMI.

Military intelligence.

Italy.

Switzerland.

Belgium.

Germany.

But Italy was hit the hardest.

Along with SISMI (which no longer exists per se), another suspect would be VSSE of Belgium.

Only the Vatican’s intelligence agency is older than VSSE.

VSSE is the CIA of Belgium.

Belgium also has a military intelligence organization (GISS).

Strategy of tension.

Look it up.

It dominated the USA in the years after 9/11/01.

And it has dominated the past two years of COVID (with biological warfare [disguised as a naturally-occurring pandemic] replacing higher-intensity forms of terrorism).

The W. Bush administration denies that the USA had anything to do with the terrorism of the stay-behind networks (like Gladio) which they set up in all NATO countries following WWII.

Yeah, sure.

This same Bush administration says it’s just all “made up” by the Russians.

All evidence points to the various security services in Europe (Italy, Belgium, etc.) protecting these stay behind networks from prosecution when they committed these acts of terrorism.

So the Bush administration was (in 2006) relying on an implausible deniabilty.

It’s possible, but highly unlikely, that the United States didn’t participate in these terror activities.

And it is even less possible that they didn’t know about them and condone them.

It remains to be discovered just what just the U.S. and NATO played in this terrorism.

There is no question that NATO/US set up these stay-behind networks.

And there is very little question that these stay-behind networks committed acts of terrorism upon European civilians.

Indeed, the original mission of these stay-behind networks appears to have changed from “use in case of emergency [a Soviet takeover of Western Europe]” to “use for any purpose which will cause Europeans to fear communist political candidates”.

This violence should not have been committed.

When children are killed (as they were by a bombing in Munich at the Octoberfest), then the end does not justify the means.

Try telling the father who lost his young son and daughter to that bombing.

The girl was ripped open by the bomb.

The boy had bomb fragments which went through his head.

They both suffered.

They did not die instantly.

They both spoke to their father.

The girl said, “Please help me, father.”

The boy said, “I’m ok. I’m just cold.”

They both died soon after.

And that father had to live with that grief.

All so that communists would not be voted into power in Western Europe.

Bullshit!

FUCK THAT!!!

SDRA8 in Belgium.

Absalon in Denmark.

TD BDJ in Germany (where a former Nazi, Gehlen, was head of post-war German intel).

LOK in Greece.

Stay-Behind in Luxembourg.

I&O in Netherlands.

ROC in Norway.

Aginter Press in Portugal.

Red Quantum in Spain.

P26 in Switzerland.

Özel Harp Dairesi in Turkey.

AGAG in Sweden.

Plan Bleu in France.

OWSGV in Austria.

The name of the Finnish version is unknown.

Italy.

Giulio Andreotti.

Vincenzo Vinciguerra.

Licio Gelli.

Propagada 2 (Masonic lodge).

Nazis and fascists in South America.

Operation Condor.

CIA-backed Nazis in Ukraine.

Lebed.

Stepan Bandera.

Azov Battalion.

Ihor Kolomoyskyi.

The second or third richest person in Ukraine.

A Jew.

Who supports (and funds) the neo-Nazi Azov Battalion.

https://www.newsweek.com/evidence-war-crimes-committed-ukrainian-nationalist-volunteers-grows-269604

Now why would a Jew support an anti-Semitic (goes without saying) Nazi group?

https://www.reuters.com/article/idUS60927080220150505

SISMI was preceded by SID.

Let’s get into the hideous details.

Piazza Fontana bombing.

Milan.

17 dead.

88 wounded.

Bomb went off in an agricultural bank.

Two farmers had just closed a deal with a bank manager.

Does that sound like the kind of target leftists would hit?

A bank for farmers?

No.

But that wasn’t the only bomb of the day.

Other than the 4:37 p.m. bombing of the Banca Nazionale dell’Agricoltura, there were three other bombings that same afternoon in Rome and Milan.

AA11.

UA175.

“AA77”.

UA93.

Four in a day.

There was a U.S. Navy officer (David Carrett) indicted for his role in the Piazza Fontana bombing by the aformentioned Guido Salvini.

A US/NATO intel official (Sergio Minetto) was also indicted by Salvini.

The CIA coordinator for northeastern Italy (Carlo “Uncle Otto” Digilio) was likewise indicted by Salvini.

The head of SISMI (Sergio Siracusa) was charged by the aforementioned Felice Casson.

It seems the Piazza Fontana investigation was obstructed by SID (SISMI) director General Gianandelio Maletti (a P2 Masonic lodge member).

Neo-Nazi/neo-Fascist Franco Freda got life in prison in 1979 for the bombing.

As did Giovanni Ventura.

As did Italian secret agent Guido Gianettini.

All three were then acquitted on appeals in 1981.

Freda and Venturi still each got 15 years for bombings they committed in Padua and Milan.

Gianettini was acquitted in 1982.

All defendants acquitted in 1985 (including alleged conspirators Valpreda and Merlino).

Two members of the Italian secret services went to jail for misleading the investigation.

Now what possible reason might they have had for doing that?

I don’t know…maybe because the bombers were working for them???

Gian Adelio Maletti got one year in prison.

Antonio Labruna got 10 months.

For the death of 17 people.

But in 1987, here comes our good friend from Operation Condor.

Stefano Delle Chiaie.

Tried for the Piazza Fontana bombing.

Acquitted.

By 2000 it had come to Delfo Zorzi.

He received life in prison for the bombing.

Carlo Digilio received immunity in exchange for information.

Zorzi was then acquitted on appeal in 2004.

U.S. intelligence knew about the Piazza Fontana bombing (and the Piazza della Loggia bombing five years later in Brescia) before they happened.

But they did nothing to stop them.

Why?

This sounds awful similar to what the CIA did in South America with Operation Condor.

In Brescia, it appears that the target was even more stupid.

Why would right-wing false-flaggers bomb an anti-fascist protect?

That makes no sense.

France was the only member of NATO to ever withdraw from the alliance.

And if they had been smart (which they evidently are not), they would have stayed out.

But they didn’t stay out.

Nevertheless, SHAPE was forced by France’s withdrawal in 1967 to move to Mons, Belgium.

The Brabant massacres.

The Brabant killers.

The Nivelles gang.

De Bende van Nijvel.

Les Tueurs fous du Brabant.

Delhaize grocery stores.

28 deaths.

Burglary.

Etterbeek. 1981

Theft.

Dinant. 1982

Armed robbery (grocery store).

Maubeuge (France). 1982

Armed robbery.

Wavre. 1982

Death of policeman.

Armed robbery (restaurant).

Employee tortured and killed.

Beersel. 1982

Robbery.

Murder of taxi driver.

Brussels. 1983

[car found in Mons {SHAPE}]

Armed robbery (grocery store).

Rixensart. 1983

Armed robbery (grocery store).

Uccle. 1983

Armed robbery (grocery store).

One employee killed.

Halle. 1983

Armed robbery (grocery store).

Houdeng-Gougnies. 1983

Armed robbery (textile factory).

One worker killed.

Temse. 1983

Service station robberies.

More murders.

Armed robbery (restaurant).

Owner killed.

Ohain. 1983

Armed robbery.

One customer killed.

Beersel (again). 1983

Armed robbery.

Two owners of shop killed.

Anderlues. 1983

AND THEN IT ALL STOPPED?!?

Nothing in 1984.

Armed robbery (Delhaize grocery store).

Three people killed.

Braine-l’Alleud. 1985

Armed robbery (Delhaize grocery store).

Five people killed.

Overijse. 1985

Armed robbery (Delhaize grocery store).

Father, mother, and daughter killed in the parking lot.

Son ran back into the shop and was shot at point blank.

Eight deaths today during this robbery.

Aalst. 1985

Buckshot in 12-gauge Winchester pump shotguns was a rare type similar to a former Belgian special forces unit called Group Diane.

SDRA8.

SDRAVIII.

S.D.R.A. VIII.

In Greece, there was CIA coordination with General Lucian Truscott.

LOK is Greek special forces.

There is some evidence they were involved in the Greek military coup of 1967.

This coup happened one month before national elections.

There were 10,000 arrests in this coup.

This ushered in the Regime of the Colonels which lasted in Greece from 1967-1974.

A secret NATO army in Greece appears to have been named Red Sheepskin (or Operation Sheepskin).

Arms cashes of the stay-behinds were found near Arnhem, Netherlands.

Operation Gladio again connects to Operation Condor by was of Stefano Delle Chiae.

In Spain (where many Nazis hid out before fleeing to South America).

We also find another connection to Vincenzo Vinciguerra.

William Colby is the only CIA Director that I like.

-PD

Lost River [2014)

There’s something very weird going on in Hollywood.

And it has been going on for a long time.

You can look for yourself in Kenneth Anger’s books.

Strange stories about Clara Bow.

The first “It” girl.

From the film of the same name.

And how she kept her skin so soft (ostensibly).

But the range of weirdness in Hollywood seems to move along a continuum.

There are levels.

Not unlike Freemasonry.

Or Scientology.

The hedonism of Henry Miller would be a very low level.

But what we are dealing with here, in this film, is an allusion to a higher level.

Really, the highest level.

There really isn’t a more mot juste for this phenomenon than Satanism.

And, perhaps, even that word does not fully describe what is at issue.

If one was hard-pressed to boil it down–to refine it further, perhaps “evil” would be the essential element.

Recently, the internet collective known only as QAnon “dropped” a crumb of information regarding an establishment in Los Angeles known as the Cannibal Club.

You can find all Q drops here.

The drop in question is #3917 from April 8th of this month.

Here is the website to which Q linked.

It indeed follows the train of thought I delineated above.

You will see the Henry Miller quote (an author I deeply admire).

But then you will see a perversion far beyond (to my knowledge) anything Henry Miller ever wrote about.

What you see on the Cannibal Club website appears to be a restaurant which serves human flesh.

However, with a bit of research, I came to the conclusion that this particular institution (as it is presented) is likely fake.

Why?

The names of the principals all come back empty. None of them have a digital footprint that I can find. Sophie Lafitte. Elspeth Blake. Hero Conners. Raven Chan.

The photo of Cannibal Club’s proprietress, Elspeth Blake, was first cached as a stock photo in 2012.

The photo of Raven Chan also was first cached (before it was used on the Cannibal Club website) as a stock photo. Both photos appear to have originated on the website istockphoto.com . They are generic pictures.

The Cannibal Club website went live with content in 2009. Neither the menu, nor the “events” have changed.

My conclusion was that this was a joke made by demented, artsy liberals in order to seed panic in America’s conservative population.

That was my hypothesis: it is almost certainly a sick joke.

But here’s the rub…

Things like this very well may exist.

Indeed, they probably do.

And thereby we come to the film Lost River.

It came out a mere two years before Trump was elected.

Before Harvey Weinstein was convicted of sex crimes and sent to prison (where, last I heard, he had coronavirus).

Before jet-setter Jeffrey Epstein “hung himself” in a Manhattan jail cell.

You know, Epstein…the guy who flew Bill Clinton and Kevin Spacey to Africa.

All this was before Kevin Spacey had numerous sex crime charges brought against him.

And two of his accusers recently dropped dead (over the past year) bringing both cases to a halt.

Lost River.

I appreciate the style.

Very heavy on the David Lynch (with a modicum of Harmony Korine thrown in).

The focus on “place” is very similar to the technique David Lynch and Mark Frost used to ground the town of Twin Peaks in the TV series of the same name.

Evil.

In the woods.

Underwater.

Underground.

And in secret clubs.

Director Ryan Gosling did a pretty good job with this film.

We will forgive him for lifting the ambiance of that Orbison scene from Mulholland Dr. to repurpose it in his Lost River blood-and-guts cabaret.

Because the reason I watched this film at all was for Christina Hendricks.

She has the potential to join a modern pantheon which, at this time, includes only Thora Birch and Kat Dennings.

Though we are never told this in the film, it is set in Detroit.

And that makes sense.

Deserted neighborhoods with crumbling houses.

But it could be anywhere in America if China’s economic warfare (COVID-19) is not soon countered.

Matt Smith does a good job as Bully: the embodiment of serial-killer animalism.

The thug.

The gangster.

The cartel head.

Extreme cruelty.

Sadistic.

Gosling did a great job location scouting for the zoo scene.

The abandoned zoo.

Very much like the film Hanna and its scenes in the abandoned Spreepark of East Berlin.

Ben Mendelsohn is a fucker.

Such a prick.

But smart.

He’s not an animal like Bully, though he has rage inside him.

He is more of a predator.

And he is much more powerful.

His character, Dave, is a banker.

And Dave tells us, during the course of the film, that he sets up a little “club” in each of the towns he goes to.

Seems Dave gets moved around a lot.

Comes in.

Fires people.

Gets the books on a firmer footing.

And moves on to the next town where he can oblige the poor and demented with a bit of blood lust with his clubs.

Lots of blood.

Lots of lust.

Dave overlaps nicely onto the persona of Harvey Weinstein.

Christina Hendricks is immediately propositioned by the bank manager.

Dave is a thoroughly-unscrupulous scumbag.

Hendricks just wants to hang on to her home…dilapidated though it may be.

Saoirse Ronan does a nice job in a relatively-minor role here.

She glitters occasionally…as she plays her Casio on her bed with sparkly finger polish.

Whispering out a little song.

Or as she tucks in her pet rat for the night.

But it is not the ginger Ronan we are used to.

Her hair is black.

To fit with the landscape.

And to let Hendricks (also a redhead) stand out as the star.

Saoirse is the “girl next door”…literally.

In the tradition of American Beauty.

By this method we can trace Gosling’s influences.

The overarching one is David Lynch.

This film is creepy.

Plenty creepy.

Much of the creepiness comes from the casting.

It really is an amalgam of Lynch’s freaks with Harmony Korine’s amateurs.

There is the grief of the mute grandmother.

Caught in a loop of family films.

Mourning her late-husband who died tragically.

It is sad.

It happens.

The inability to talk for some time after a shock.

Extreme PTSD.

The family films are sad.

Watching how they used to be.

The way they were.

And the grandmother still a widow…with a fishnet veil for mourning.

There is some rubbish in this movie.

Kind of how the second season of Twin Peaks went off the rails.

Eva Mendes is good here.

And scary.

In the basement is something very Ex Machina (also 2014).

And even more so John Cale’s Vintage Violence.

Shells.

Mortal coils.

Simulation.

Apparently, customers can come down and “murder” real people in these shells.

The shells are of a hard, clear plastic.

And formfitting.

The shells supposedly prevent any real bodily harm.

But we never really see them in action.

Iain De Caestecker is pretty good here.

There is a realness in the urgency of his running.

Gosling’s editing crystalizes this.

Running for love.

Panic.

Running to save.

To set off running.

Unprepared for how long the journey really is.

Something special here.

Good vs. evil.

To give.

Charity.

To be selfish.

To ignore the needs of others.

To follow the voice of God.

To follow the instruction of the Holy Spirit.

To be humble before God.

To fear God.

To feel evil all around.

When it comes, and when it goes.

But the most quizzical scene is when Christina Hendricks cuts her own face off (in simulation, of course) in exactly the way we have heard about in the infamous, rumored Frazzledrip video.

In 2014.

Two years before such a thing came to light.

What a strange coincidence.

Let us synthesize more.

Could there be clubs (in L.A., for instance) where children have their faces cut off (for real) in front of an audience of sickos?

Further question, how does Hollywood (in L.A.) have the “imagination” to write these sorts of scenes?

Sure, there’s the old French film Eyes Without a Face.

But that was cosmetic.

It wasn’t for the thrill of spectators.

It was a medical procedure gone wrong.

Gory as it was, it was to SAVE the face of his daughter that the misguided doctor went on a hunt for faces.

Here, the faces are potlatched (apparently).

Or eaten.

But again, this is just a “cabaret”, we are told.

We see behind the scenes.

“Fake blood”.

So where is the truth in these “jokes”?

What kinds of personalities find humor in this?

John Podesta famously jokes about cannibalism in Time magazine and elsewhere.

He jokes about the cannibalistic Donner party.

He had cannibal art hanging on his office wall (a loan from his art-collector-brother Tony Podesta).

Strange fixation, that.

Very creepy.

Verging on Silence of the Lambs.

Ed Gein.

Dahmer.

Really vile stuff.

This is an interesting movie.

Gosling has talent as a director.

He should make more films.

This was his debut.

He has directed nothing sense.

My only quibble is this: Christina Hendricks was so misused here.

Saoirse Ronan was almost equally misused.

Gosling needs to watch more Godard.

More Hitchcock.

You don’t cast Grace Kelly only to have her wear the same sweater for the whole film.

But it’s also Hendricks’ fault.

She has talent.

But she must embrace who she is.

She is not a good enough actor to be a puritan.

-PD

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory [1971)

Now we come to a crucial crossroads.

30,665 deaths so far in the United States from COVID-19.

Over a month ago, on or about March 12th, my girlfriend broke up with me.

But she didn’t do it in any sort of clearcut way.

I committed a transgression.

I wrote a very unflattering song about her.

Musically speaking, it was a very good song.

And so, out of blind pride, I posted it on my SoundCloud page.

It was written out of frustration.

I did not feel that I could discuss anything of substance with my girlfriend.

But I must qualify that statement.

I was unable to give her criticism…at all…ever.

No matter how tactfully I phrased it, she was not open to critique.

And she was always this way.

I will let the psychiatrists in the room now give their opinions as to the reason why.

[ ]

Thank you, good sirs.

You see, my girlfriend used to be my fiancée.

And before that she was my girlfriend.

My beginning is my end.

Understand that I waited 41 years to propose to a girl.

And propose I did.

And she accepted.

It was a joyful day.

I wore my best (only) suit.

I brought flowers (as I did every time I saw her).

We were happy.

I thought that giving her the reassurance of engagement would improve her attitude.

While I was never allowed to give her criticism (without a resulting emotional explosion from her), she was allowed to give me criticism.

And she did.

From the moment I met her.

Her very first words to me when we first met in person were a CORRECTION of my faux pas.

I didn’t stand when she entered the room and approached my table.

I admit that I was in error.

But I was enraptured by her beauty.

And that was the first of many, MANY criticisms I would receive from her over the ensuing four months until our engagement.

Perhaps my optimism was misguided.

After a brief “honeymoon period”, the criticisms came back.

But I must give some “back story” to fill in her character profile.

She had lost a child mid-pregnancy just two years prior.

And less than one year before meeting me, she had lost her husband in a tragic traffic collision.

I was very compassionate to the special needs of this truly unique child of God.

My fiancée.

I wanted to help.

I overlooked many of her character flaws…attributing them to her PTSD and depression.

But every anniversary was like an eruption.

The date when her child died.

The date when her child was supposed to have been born.

The date when her husband died.

Her and her late-husband’s wedding anniversary.

Amidst all this struggle, she wanted to have another child.

Her one child had been lost.

Before ever really entering the world.

I obliged.

I loved her.

I was scared.

“What kind of father material am I?,” I thought.

But I pressed on.

I always acquiesced to her demands.

We did things HER WAY.

ALWAYS.

And it was stressful.

“Let’s go to a fertility clinic.”

Yadayadayada.

All while I am working to make ends meet.

“I will soon be too old to have children.”

A frantic pace.

Interspersed with bouts of her extreme depression.

Lovely stuff, I assure you.

It drove me back to tobacco.

And it drove me nuts.

Everything snapped for me.

One day I woke up and realized I couldn’t go to work.

I was done.

And so for 9 months, I had to be reborn.

I had to detox.

To her credit, she stuck by me (more or less).

And then tragedy struck again.

Her mother died.

I frantically tried to get my old job back (though I was not quite fully healed).

And I did.

I wanted to help her save her apartment which she loved.

But she got sick.

And sicker.

I kept the job.

But the apartment was lost.

And now she lives with her dad.

Just as I live with my parents (a situation she gave me grief about many times).

“Many who are first shall be last, and the last shall be first.”

Jesus spoke of karma.

And I’m sure I have a lifetime of wrecked karma ready to crash down on ME at any moment.

But sometimes the irony is too dripping.

There was the hospitalization.

Six days she was there.

I came every night (five nights).

After working until midnight sometimes.

But it was not enough.

She wasn’t satisfied.

After the hospital, she got worse (in many ways).

Finally, I was asked by her family not to contact her anymore.

Not to cause her “grief”.

And like that, our engagement vanished into thin air.

For 17 days I lived in a darkness.

And so did she.

She was very sick.

I heard nothing from her.

And then she slipped back into my life.

Slowly.

But it was so confusing.

She didn’t want to be engaged anymore (she said).

She wanted to take a (big) step backwards.

I wasn’t too happy about this, but I accepted.

And so we made it several months.

A nice Valentine’s Day.

But something was worse than before.

There was absolutely no reciprocation.

If I complimented her (which I did often), she would not compliment me.

If I did something nice for her (which I often did), it was very soon forgotten (and certainly not answered with a loving action from her).

I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t.

She was still too sick, she said.

And so things dragged on thusly.

And then I wrote that song which changed my life.

That song of frustration.

I am not proud of it.

Though it be musically a good composition, it caused her sadness.

When she happened to find it.

You see, I would write songs for this girl of mine.

I recorded 183 songs for her over the course of two years.

Some covers.

Some original instrumentals.

Some original songs.

Many of these gifts barely got a word of thanks in return.

Same for the thousands of dollars of flowers I bought for her over the same time period.

There’s even one song that she appears to have never bothered even listening to.

And it’s a good one.

After six months, it shows that it has zero listens.

Well, no one is perfect.

There were probably (almost certainly) other songs she never heard.

It just wasn’t what she needed at the time.

I can attest.

She was very, very sick.

183 songs.

Some she never got around to listening to.

In my frustration, I sang to the world.

I wrote…and put it in a bottle.

Like putting a leaf in a flowing stream.

To get rid of that care.

But of course, she found that particular leaf.

She interrogated me about it.

“No,” I said (trying to be tactful), “it’s not about you.”

But my conscience got to me.

And so the next day I came clean.

Yes, the song is about you.

I apologized sincerely.

I made no excuses whatsoever.

I didn’t plead my case.

She didn’t ask (never has) how I came to a place of such frustration.

But that was the last I heard from her.

For 10 days.

The first 10 days of this coronavirus pandemic in the United States.

I went through it alone.

I sent texts.

I sent emails.

All went unanswered for 10 days.

And when we came out, she was less than my girlfriend.

I told her I loved her…and got no response.

That was five weeks ago.

And so we have been winding things down.

We still talk.

But she is incapable of discussing our former relationship.

It stresses her out to much.

And she never even bothered breaking up with me.

So we are “just friends” now.

And I have tried to be there for her during this coronavirus crisis.

Which brings us to Willy Wonka.

This was one of the most formative movies of my life.

Perhaps THE most formative.

In elementary school, when the teachers were too lazy to teach, they’d put this film on.

And I would sit enraptured.

No matter how many times they showed it.

And they showed it to us MANY times.

It must have been one of the few VHS tapes which was approved for them to screen.

So what does this all mean?

Coronavirus, a wrecked romantic relationship, Willy Wonka…

Here is a partial answer:

a film reviewer should be cognizant of what is going on in their life and how that affects their “reading” of a certain film.

I rewatched this film tonight (for the umpteenth time) and saw stuff I had never seen before.

New details noticed.

But I was watching it with the sadness of romantic loss.

And with the stress of total societal isolation.

I have worked on the front lines of the service industry all throughout this crisis.

Precisely for the mental health BENEFIT it gave me.

Exercise.

Ersatz social interaction (with coworkers and customers).

But now, my store has been hit with a close encounter.

And so our hours have been shaved.

No more midnight.

Midnight shifted to 10 p.m.

And now, abruptly, 10 p.m has shifted to 2 p.m.

Can you imagine a coffee shop closing at 2 p.m.?

Well, that’s us right now.

And I am fairly certain I have delayed sleep phase disorder.

My “availability” starts at 4 p.m. each day.

So I have AT LEAST the next eight days off.

And I have had the past two off as well.

But five of my coworkers are home self-isolating…because they had potential second-hand exposure to COVID-19.

I miss them. I’m making them music playlists. I’m buying them groceries. I’m sending them texts and emojis.

What a horrible situation to be in.

I myself was homebound today because of my asthma.

And that is our world.

Every sniffle.

Every sneeze.

Every sore throat.

As the mold floats on the breeze.

And the oaks bloom.

As particle pollution undulates.

Along with ozone.

Is it ‘rona?

If I need to take a Tylenol, is it ‘rona?

If I were to get coronavirus, it would be very bad indeed.

I live with my two elderly parents.

I have asthma.

I have high blood pressure.

And I have a whole bevy of mental problems.

But I chose to work.

I ran towards the sound of gunfire.

Whether it was stupid or brave, that is for others to decide.

And so now, here I sit with this masterpiece:

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.

Mel Stuart may be an auteur whose time is yet to come.

But the secret weapon is Walter Scharf.

Did he write the music?

No.

But he orchestrated it.

And such gossamer orchestration it is!

We start poor.

Shaggy dog.

Charlie Bucket.

A peasant’s name if there ever was one.

Crazy man plants the seeds of conspiracy.

About the factory.

*Charlie lives with his parents (as most young boys do).

But he also lives with all four of his grandparents.

And his father is deceased.

Willy Wonka is certainly a film about espionage.

Economic espionage.

Business espionage.

With overtones of state espionage.

International espionage.

Remnants of war. England. Germany.

Wonka’s factory is like Area 51.

But this film is unique in that it delineates a search.

A search by a man.

Or an organization.

Or agency.

Or entity.

A search for that one special person.

[decades before The Matrix]

God tested Abraham.

“…kill me a son/Abe said, ‘Man, you must be puttin’ me on!’/

God said, ‘No.’/Abe said, ‘What?’/God said, ‘You can do what you want Abe, but…uh/

next time you see me comin’ you better run.’/Abe said, ‘Where you want this killin’ done?’/ God said, ‘Out on Highway 61.'”

God, of course, STOPPED Abraham from killing his son.

But only AFTER Abraham had committed fully…knife in hand…to slit his son’s throat.

Great reading, that.

The Bible.

And this is a very biblical tale, Willy Wonka.

The eccentric Jesus.

God the Father…in the Heavens…with his Inventing Room.

The chocolate factory is heaven.

And only those who become like a child can enter…and stay.

Only those who are born again (made pure like a child) can inherit this chocolate factory.

God wants to pass on his greatest creation.

Heaven.

And God tests us.

But there is grace.

Charlie and Grandpa Joe mess up.

They drink the fizzy lifting drink.

They hang suspended like Icarus and Daedalus.

Their wings don’t melt.

They have the opposite problem.

They are on a collision course with the edge of ether.

Until they learn how to burp.

Stephen Dedalus…

Cicada 3301.

GCHQ recruiting.

Puzzles.

QAnon.

NSA.

Kryptos.

Who can solve the final part?

Right there at Langley.

Some might say I was engaged to Veruca Salt.

Wonka running counterespionage.

Counterintelligence.

Slugworth in Switzerland.

For Your Eyes Only.

Octagonal.

And hope.

Get out of bed.

Go back to work.

Warning strictly against “frippery”.

Again with Roger Moore in A View to a Kill.

Sideways fan.

Spoiled brat.

Always got what she wanted.

Cautionary tale of poor parenting.

God is merciful.

All is dream.

But God cannot be mocked.

His word is eternal.

Jesus was the Word made flesh.

Superseding the Ten Commandments.

There is freedom in Christ, but we are not to go on sinning.

We will mess up.

But it is by grace that we are saved.

So that no man may boast.

It is not by good works.

But the heart must be contrite.

And, above all, pure.

Made pure by the Holy Spirit.

When one invites God into ones life.

A little bit of divinity in each of us.

And quite a bit of divinity in this film.

By this logic, Satan (created by God) may be a Slugworth to be unmasked in the end times.

Lucifer…with that scar on his face.

The mark of Cain.

The murderer.

Finally, this is Gene Wilder’s best work.

He channels something here which is otherworldly.

Wilder became immortal with this film.

And he lives on.

As long as there is goodness in this world, we have a chance.

I want to thank my friend, the great writer Chris Lindsay, for encouraging me to write onwards during these dark times.

Thank you, Chris.

-PD

1 Comment

Viskningar och rop [1972)

Cris et Chuchotements.

…et Chuchotements.

This horribly powerful film.

No light reading.

From the lips.

Fumbling big-hand thoughts.

Like Brice Parain said, inseparable from language.

We can see this fount at which Godard drank.

We can see the borrowing of von Trier.

We can see the fealty of Wes Anderson.

It is Cries and Whispers of Ingmar Bergman.

Tired, aging Bergman.

Clear as a bell.

Static shots which must be achieved through moving pictures.

Just stop moving for a moment.

And be quiet.

That microphone.

Just out of sight.

No B-movie swoop-downs.

But absolute perfection throughout.

And yet the message is dark.

No hope.

Cathartic, maybe.

Always fade to red.

And reemerge through the color spectrum.

Yellow to white light.

Four women.

Three sisters and a zaftig maid.

Someone’s crying Lord…

Come by here. In a dream. See their lips move.

We should love the coquette. The redhead. Liv Ullmann.

She should dominate us like a Renoir painting.

A madder rose cinema has known not.

But is she not a fake, Maria?

Is she not just a color palette towards which we gravitate?

What worth in the façade when the heart is empty?

It had been a long time since Summer with Monika, but Harriet Andersson was here.

And yet, it is Liv Ullmann who gets the plastic surgeon insults of the doctor (Erland Josephson).

But Harriet Andersson has enough grief with which to deal.

No no, I have gotten mixed up with all these actresses of Bergman. And don’t even mention Ingrid!

We will come back to poor, sweet Harriet.

But we must first deal with the witch: Ingrid Thulin.

What kind of misery makes such a witch?

A tissue of lies (reads the subtitles).

I believe Thierry Meyssan had to deal with such proclamations (though I read them in translation).

What kind of lies here, though…specifically?

Loveless marriage.

Probably even more empty than simply.

Loveless.

No creative punctuation. No flirtatious commas or semicolons.

But simply poetry written like a telegraph dispatch.

Full stop.

Desperate.

Depression unto madness. That is Ingrid Thulin here as Karin.

But then we must come back to our sickness.

A true physical ailment.

A patient.

Bedridden.

Patience.

It is Agnes. Painful. Wheezing. Horrible. Ghastly.

A high-water mark of art films.

Top that, motherfucker.

Jerry Lee to Chuck Berry. Worse than an expletive.

But what brings this whole film together? Who holds this house against her bosom?

It is none other than Kari Sylwan.

Yes, there are no important male characters within.

Georg Årlin chews his fish like someone in the diplomatic service should.

And expects “a little consensual rape in the evening” (to quote the Nick Cave of Grinderman).

But such petty existence boils the madness.

The glass.

Shards of light.

Smeared with lunacy.

Against all this is Kari Sylwan as Anna.

The maid.

The help.

Priceless.

Humanist.

A believer. As the sick believed more than the priest.

No real important male characters here.

But Anders Ek is the voice of reason. The voice of poetry. For a moment. Touching.

Don’t touch me.

Such damage in the world.

And Anna bears it all.

The only true hero.

Meek.

Equally tormented.

But strong.

Annas make the world go round. Deliver the medicine. Keep the world from splitting open. Make sure the trains are on time. Hugs.

The history of cinema is littered with sad brilliance.

Strewn with fictional corpses.

Troubled directors trying to come to terms with their own fears of death.

And in the end, such creations loom large because they closest resemble the art of the ancient world and the itch of the Renaissance.

Storm on! And write all night long!!

Someone has stolen my beard, but my mustache is plenty weird.

We shall live to see Nietzsche bitch-slap Hitler.

And Tarantino will again work at a video store. Where he belongs. A very able clerk. Like me.

-PD

The Great Dictator [1940)

The light of the mind is in truth not revenge.

I’ll say it again.

The light of the mind is in truth not revenge.

And so with a stark wisdom Charlie Chaplin stepped into a new realm with this film…a bit like John Lennon on his first solo album Plastic Ono Band.

You think the comparison is daft. Perhaps.

God is a concept…by which we measure, our, pain?

It’s just a maxim. Boiled down.

Axiomatic.

And for me…from Chaplin…it is:

the light of the mind is in truth not revenge.

The “unofficial” motto of the Central Intelligence Agency:

“And you shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free.”

I’m trying to up my game. As a human being.

Today. A small miracle. A secret.

The secret of the beehive.

Swarming with celluloid transferred to digital information.

1s and 0s. So that a particular defect in the print (a scratch on the surface) will always appear the same. Forever.

The Great Dictator.

I know. I should italicize. Like Benzino Napaloni. In the heel of Bacteria.

[That would be somewhere between the Hindu Kush and the Amu Darya river.]

But I digresseth…

The light of the mind is truth not revenge.

In truth.

And so before God and all people I verbally bow down and prostrate myself as a mere blob of unworthiness.

Day in, day out.

But today especially.

Maybe…

My spaces will be removed.

Poetry is inefficient.

And cryptic writing is so tedious.

Truth not revenge.

Which is to say.

Diametrically opposed to–

untruth and revenge.

[at the very least].

There’s nothing difficult to say anymore.

I used to consider the French and the Jews my favorite people.

And there is no reason to alter that.

Truth sans revenge.

A mind of reason.

Forever and a day you could read histories and become an expert.

On anything.

Any topic.

Matchboxes.

Bread baking in 14th-century Sweden.

I chose movies because they were young.

It was possible.

The breadth seemed traversable.

But the emotions in film can never be belted.

We cannot bale these emotions.

We cannot stack them and inventory them.

To side with a talking head is not evolved.

From David Duke to Louis Farrakhan.

And to gag every time we see Netanyahu.

Let us examine.

No. You are right.

People are dying.

But if we have the luxury to think,

then let us examine.

What Charlie Chaplin might have been saying.

Don’t watch the final speech on YouTube.

It will seem forced.

It is out of context.

You don’t see the psychic sweat.

Watch the whole damn film and then decide.

Muslims protecting Jews.

Jews protecting Muslims.

Bodily.

Stepping in front.

Yes.

It is not fair.

The jet planes.

Truth without revenge.

My son.

Daughter.

The great sobbing of the earth.

African-Americans protecting white people.

White people protecting African-Americans.

Fully.

You can never recover from slavery.

No people can.

And the best and brightest. The inventors of jazz. The marginalized intellectuals.

Truth not revenge.

Get the truth.

Know it.

Evolve.

Transcend.

Easy to say sitting in a little comfy house.

Not so easy homeless.

Words are so easy.

It is a crossroads.

Anti-Semitism is on the rise, they say.

And anti-Muslim fervor is also strong.

We overcompensate.

We err.

And so I say love the Jew.

Love the Muslim.

Love the black man.

Love the white man.

Listen to the women.

Love the man and the woman equally. As humans.

And the Jew and the Gentile equally. Equally. As humans.

Let the imagination of your heart run wild with love.

Feel what it might feel like.

When all those variables guide your life.

That you wake up each day in a category.

Russians and Americans in a moment.

Every nation which has previously spilled blood.

Every nation.

First nations and last nations.

Don’t be cynical.

My friend.

Myself.

A humble understanding of a few things and an openness.

To approach the new day with a more pure ambition.

-PD

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paulydeathwish

cinema dossier

Tag Archives: grief

Lost River [2014)

Viskningar och rop [1972)

The Great Dictator [1940)