No Time to Die [2021)

This is not a game.

Pull quote.

C-17.

This film was a rip of Blood Heat novel 1988 Steve Pieczenik.

Out of print.

Buy now.

https://stevepieczenik.com/product/blood-heat-audiobook/

Little man Fauci Malek.

Unit 731.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unit_731

Pieczenik banned from Japan.

Current.

Persona non grata.

Khabarovsk War Crime Trials.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khabarovsk_War_Crime_Trials

CIA paperclipped.

But so did Soviets.

No doubt.

Unit 100.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unit_100

Unit 516.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unit_516

Unit 1855.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unit_1855

Unit Ei 1644.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unit_Ei_1644

Unit 8604.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unit_8604

Unit 9420.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unit_9420

Diseases disguised as vaccinations.

Fleas*.

Delivery mechanism.

Marine vessel Ning-Po.

Smallpox joke dropped early.

Date:  November 9, 2021.

https://www.independent.co.uk/news/science/bill-gates-smallpox-terror-attack-b1958789.html

Date:  November 18, 2021.  [note* nine days later]

https://www.theguardian.com/society/2021/nov/18/philadelphia-lab-smallpox-vials-freezer

Frame of reference.

https://www.centerforhealthsecurity.org/our-work/events-archive/2001_dark-winter/

How many times did Joe Biden drop the phrase “dark winter”?

Can the Democrats allow the midterms (2022) to happen?

Won’t they get politically slaughtered at the polls?

How much has the system which allowed the rigged 2020 U.S. Presidential election been shored up?

Was Virginia (Youngkin) a test?

Gates really likes the number 9.

BioNTech (Pfizer COVID vaccine) cash infusion ($55 mil.) from Gates Foundation.

Date:  September 4, 2019.

https://investors.biontech.de/news-releases/news-release-details/biontech-announces-new-collaboration-develop-hiv-and/

BioNTech NASDAQ IPO.

Date:  October 9, 2019

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-biontech-ipo-idUSKBN1WO29B

Event 201.

Date:  October 18, 2019 [nine days later]

https://www.centerforhealthsecurity.org/event201/

I see five major players of the non-game 6uild6ack6etter:

Klaus Schwab (a Kissinger protégé), Bill Gates, Anthony Fauci, Prince Charles, and Pope Bergoglio.

Shirō Ishii.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shir%C5%8D_Ishii

Deaths of microbiologists in months following 9/11/01.

Benito Que, Donald C. Wiley, Vladimir Pasechnik, Robert Schwartz, Set Van Nguyen, Vladimir Korshunov, and Ian Langford.  Not to mention Air Sibir 1812 (shot down by Ukrainian SAM).  Five microbiologists aboard.  Israeli microbiologists?  En route to Novosibirsk.  Also not to mention Swissair crash on approach to Zurich.  Died:  head of hematology Ichilov Hospital (Israel).  Died:  directors of Tel Aviv Public Health Department and Hebrew University of Medicine.  33 passengers.  24 died.  All Israelis aboard died.  Possible names (pseudonyms?):  Avishai Berkman, Amiram Eldor, and Yaacov Matzner.

https://www.fromthewilderness.net/free/ww3/02_14_02_microbio.html

Masaji Kitano.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Masaji_Kitano

Doctors of death.

Listen to the master, Dr. Steve Pieczenik, M.D., Ph.D., speak about this.

https://stevepieczenik.com/2021/08/09/opus-8821-doctors-of-death/

Yoshio Shinozuka.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yoshio_Shinozuka

Yasuji Kaneko.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yasuji_Kaneko

War criminals.

Ichirō Hatoyama (Japanese PM 1954-1956).

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ichir%C5%8D_Hatoyama

Nobusuke Kishi (Japanese PM 1957-1960).

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nobusuke_Kishi

Hayato Ikeda (Japanese PM 1960-1964).

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hayato_Ikeda

Three Japanese Prime Ministers.

Not indicted.

Please explain Trump’s position on the COVID vaccines.

General Otozō Yamada.

Sentenced to 25 years in a labor camp by the Soviets.

Served only seven years before being repatriated to Japan.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Otoz%C5%8D_Yamada

General Shunji Sato (a physician).

Sentenced to 20 years in prison.

Served only seven years before being repatriated to Japan.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shunji_Sato

Bacteria mass production.

Under “epidemic prevention” and “water purification” euphemisms:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epidemic_Prevention_and_Water_Purification_Department

Rami Malek character Lucifer (Lyutsifer).

Peter Daszak working for CIA?

Anthony Fauci covering for CIA?

Fauci covering for U.S. military?

Sticky situation.

Are the statements of Dr. Jon McGreevey (Ryan Dark White) legitimate?

I believe Lin Wood has thoroughly discredited himself by now with his incessant attacks on (particulary) General Michael Flynn.

But could Lin Wood’s whistleblower by bona fide?

He’s running for U.S. Senate in Maryland.

And then you have Ron Watkins (CodeMonkeyZ) running for U.S. House of Representatives in Arizona.

Might as well throw in Bobby Piton running for U.S. Senate in Illinois.

Per McGreevey:

he claims that COVID is a defensive bioweapon “designed to protect the United States” and also (most notably) that he himself designed it.  According to McGreevey, it is called GenAegis (Genetic Shield).  McGreevey elaborates on it a bit here…”a weapon designed to seek out certain DNA, programmable […] they can make endless variants”.

Sound familiar?

https://web.archive.org/web/20210725044535/https://threadreaderapp.com/thread/1418973700108476420.html

McGreevey’s assertion is that Obama and Biden gave this bioweapon to China (who then converted it to an offensive bioweapon?).

It was (according to him) developed at Fort Detrick (Maryland).

How does this comport with USMC Major Joseph Murphy’s recent whistleblowing to Project Veritas?

Murphy claims that COVID was a vaccine FOR bats (which was to be administered in an aerosolized version by spraying it into caves in China), but that it leaked out of the Wuhan lab before it was finished.

Murphy’s main contention is that DARPA refused the project, but NIAID (which Fauci runs) then subsequently accepted the project.

The project was proposed to DARPA by the EcoHealth Alliance (run by Peter Daszak).

JAG_Docs_pt1_Og_WATERMARK_OVER_Redacted 2

This evidence was discovered by Murphy in his capacity at DARPA.

The evidence is now ostensibly being held by the Marine Corps Intelligence Activity (MCIA) at Quantico.

Note that NCIS is also HQ at Quantico.

And of course there is FBI there as well.

[not to mention United States Army Criminal Investigation Command (USACID) and U.S. Air Force Office of Special Investigations (AFOSI or OSI)]

But let’s back up to NCIS for a moment.

Why does Ron DeSantis (Navy JAG) seem so much more wise than Donald Trump on the COVID vaccines in these last couple of months?

DeSantis has not gone full-retard like the man who should win the Nobel Peace Prize (Dr. Robert Malone), but DeSantis also hasn’t shot his mouth off like the buffoon Trump.

What happened to Trump?

Great President.

And then he broadcasts to the world that he got the Pfizer vaccine (while encouraging people to take these shots)?

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/donald-trump-i-got-the-pfizer-125703879.html

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And he casually drops his booster status after a crowd in Dallas gathered to hear him speak had just sung the Christian hymn “How Great Thou Art”?  [sounds like Hochul’s church vaccine speech]

https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/trump-played-conspiracy-theory-hits-024518810.html

IMG_6266

And then Trump lies (?) to Candace Owens about people taking the vaccines not dying?

https://www.axios.com/trump-candace-owens-dying-vaccine-covid-92fd3eb3-f5ec-4167-8649-113903119de1.html

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And finally, Trump makes what appears to be a pointed reference to DeSantis in which Trump insinuates that DeSantis is “gutless” for not revealing his booster status?

https://www.thedailybeast.com/trump-roasts-gutless-desantis-for-keeping-his-booster-status-a-secret

Just what the hell has been going on with Donald Trump?!?

These outbursts have caused me to lose all faith in him.

I would take DeSantis (or Ron Paul, or Tucker Carlson, or Candace Owens, or Robert Malone, or RFK Jr. or almost anyone) over Trump at this point.

Trump has backed off the vaccine-pushing.

But I have to say:  that is not good enough.

The man need only visit two websites to understand the danger of these vaccines:

the criminally-parsed version

https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/vaccines/safety/adverse-events.html

IMG_6975

-and-

the actual version

https://openvaers.com/covid-data/mortality

IMG_6976

IMG_6977

These figures (11,879 and 23,149 [respectively]) should be increased by a factor of 10 to account for the historical underreporting to the passive-surveillance (voluntary) VAERS system [HHS] of serious adverse events such as Kawasaki disease (i.e. 118,790 deaths or 231,490 deaths).

https://www.bmj.com/rapid-response/2011/11/02/underreporting-vaccine-adverse-events

IMG_6468

IMG_6469

And in case anyone wants to play the “correlation does not necessarily equal causation” card, consider this:

https://openvaers.com/covid-data

IMG_6981

As for their efficacy…

https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/us-covid-deaths-2021-vaccines-b1963790.html

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And of course there is this gem about ethno-specific bioweapons:

https://www.wired.com/1998/11/israels-ethnic-weapon/

Are you starting to understand why China and Silicon Valley want your DNA?

This is a new kind of war where certain people will be purposefully made susceptible and others purposefully made nonsusceptible to bioweapons released on a massive scale.

Not to mention that the vaccines are debilitating the U.S. military (while SecDef Austin [a General] and CJCS Milley stand around with their dicks in their hands).  

That’s treason!

They should have known.

And if they didn’t know, they’re still responsible.

The buck stops with them.

https://vimeo.com/533241402

Why the insane push for all of humanity to receive vaccines that are neither safe, nor effective?

And why is Trump’s “solidarity” with the Canadian truckers (Freedom Convoy) so at odds with his months of moronic statements regarding the vaccines?

Does he not realize that these people are rising up PRIMARILY BECAUSE OF THE VACCINES HE BROUGHT INTO THE WORLD?!?

Don’t forget that Trump’s Operation Warp Speed (of which he is evidently so proud [see Candace Owens article above]) ALSO PAID FOR THE AstraZenca VACCINE (WHICH IS NOT EVEN AVAILABLE AT ALL IN THE USA)!!!

[not to mention three others we funded that are also not available at all in the USA:  Novavax, Sanofi, and GlaxoSmithKline]

https://web.archive.org/web/20201219231756/https://www.hhs.gov/coronavirus/explaining-operation-warp-speed/index.html

IMG_6978

IMG_6979

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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oxford%E2%80%93AstraZeneca_COVID-19_vaccine

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Novavax_COVID-19_vaccine

It should be noted that there is not a Sanofi or GSK COVID vaccine approved anywhere in the world.

Where did those $2 billion dollars we gave them go?

While Sanofi and GSK took HHS (U.S. taxpayer) money and ran (producing nothing?), here are the other countries which have developed their own COVID vaccines:

–China (8 different vaccines [Sinopharm BIBP, CoronaVac, Convidecia, Sinopharm WIBP, Zifivax, Minhai, Chinese Academy of Medical Sciences, and Sinopharm CNBG])

–Russia (4 different vaccines [Sputnik V, Sputnik Light, EpiVacCorona, and CoviVac])

–Iran (4 different vaccines [COVIran Barekat, FAKHRAVAC, COVAX-19 {in conjunction with Australian company CinnaGen}, and Razi Cov Pars])

–India (3 different vaccines [Covaxin, ZyCoV-D, and Corbevax {developed by Texas Children’s Hospital < ! > and Baylor College of Medicine <Houston>}])

–Cuba (3 different vaccines [Abdala, Soberana 02, Soberana Plus])

–Turkey (Turkovac)

–Kazakhstan (QazCovid-in)

–Taiwan (Medigen)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_COVID-19_vaccine_authorizations

Why was a children’s hospital and medical school in Texas developing a COVID vaccine that is only available in India (licensed to Biological E. Limited [BioE])?

Who paid for it?

Where’s Rand Paul?

This is a huge waste of money.

The three vaccines we got (Pfizer, Moderna, and Johnson & Johnson [which were totally unnecessary to rush {considering the low mortality rate of COVID-19 <relative to ebola or smallpox, for instance>}]) are neither safe, nor effective.

If Trump knows the available vaccines in the USA aren’t safe (how could he not know?), then he is liable for the death and injury caused by his encouragement for people to take the vaccines.

State Department character based on Ash Carter?

State Department infiltrated by Rami Malek.

CIA is trusting a foreign agent.

Death of Felix Leiter.

Death of James Bond.

Is 007 now a black lesbian like mayor Lightfoot of Chicago and disgraced BLM cofounder Patrice Cullors?

Q is gay.

Houston recently had a white lesbian mayor [Annise Parker].

And what about black lesbian Karine Jean-Pierre (KJP [Psaki’s backup])?

Is this some kind of cult?

That’s a lot of black lesbians.

And one white lesbian.

Muriel Bowser (D.C. mayor)?

Donna Brazile?

Lashana Lynch is aptly named after androgynous Klaus Nomi.

Is 007 now a black transexual?

Spoiler alert:  James Bond dies.

Is this the end of the series?

And the Bond franchise has to keep the diversity in high gear.

Who cast this movie:  Richard Torres-Estrada?

Bishop Garrison?

Lloyd Austin?

Mark Milley?

Michael Gilday?

At least Ana de Armas is charming.

I can’t say the same about Lashana Lynch.

What the fuck is this woke shit?!?

Ian Fleming would be puking his guts out.

Assange in Belmarsh.

But let’s make sure we have the score here.

The one representative of the CIA (Felix Leiter):  black male.

Miss Moneypenny:  black female.

The new 007:  black female.

What percentage of the U.K. is black?

3.3%.

Three percent.

https://www.ethnicity-facts-figures.service.gov.uk/uk-population-by-ethnicity/national-and-regional-populations/population-of-england-and-wales/latest

This is a British film.

Eon Productions Ltd.

Piccadilly (London).

Pinewood Studios.

But the film was also produced by MGM.

Beverly Hills.

Ok.

What percentage of the USA is black?

14.2%.

https://www.pewresearch.org/social-trends/fact-sheet/facts-about-the-us-black-population/

Ok.

So let’s look at the main characters.

Daniel Craig:  British white male.

Léa Seydoux:  French white female.

Rami Malek:  Egyptian-American [African-American] male.

Lashana Lynch:  British black female.

Ben Whishaw:  British white male.

Naomie Harris:  British black female.

Jeffrey Wright:  African-American [black] male.

Christoph Waltz:  Austrian-German white male.

Ralph Fiennes:  British white male.

Billy Magnussen:  American white male.

Ana De Armas:  Cuban-Spanish female.

David Dencik:  Danish-Swedish white male.

Rory Kinnear:  British white male.

Dali Benssalah:  French-Algerian male.

14 characters.

It’s nominally a British movie (although co-produced by American company MGM).

What percentage of the main cast is British?

6/14 (43%).

Less than half of the main cast is British.

What percentage of the main cast is American?

3/14 (21%).

That means 36% of the main cast is neither British, nor American.

Why?

Maybe the story called for it.

The evil guys have to be exotic.

Rami Malek (Egyptian heritage) and Christoph Waltz (Germanic).

Dencik (the biological weapons guy) is a Scandinavian playing a Russian.

Also a baddie.

What percentage of the main cast is white?

8/14 (57%).

The good guy (James Bond) is white.

But two of the three villains are also white.

The third main villain is of Egyptian descent.

What percentage of the main cast is male?

10/14 (71%).

It is an action movie.

Who goes to war?

Men?

Are women drafted into most militaries in the world?

Do they participate in combat roles?

How often?

What percentage of the main cast is white male?

7/14 (50%).

Let’s be honest.

The James Bond franchise cucked out to the looters and arsonists of BLM.

Eon and MGM kneeled in fealty to woke Hollywood.

Continuing.

What percentage of the main cast is black?

3/14 (21%).

This is the important number.

Britain is 3.3% black.

So blacks are WAY overrepresented in what is a British franchise.

But even if we figure in the American coproducer MGM, blacks are still overrepresented.

America is 14.2% black.

So blacks are even overrepresented here by 50% in relation to the American production company.

But here’s the other important part.

Of the top seven characters (as they are listed in the Wikipedia entry for this film [presumably based on screentime]), three are black.

3/7 (43% of the “stars” or leading roles in this film are played black people).

Compare that to the 3.3% British black population.

Or the 14.2% American black population.

This is an absurdly-high overrepresentation of black people!

For what?

Are 43% of box office returns in the USA because of black viewers?

I highly fucking doubt it.

And do the 3.3% of Britain who are black make up 43% of the viewership (i.e. revenue) there?

There is strictly no chance.

So this movie is a woke joke.

A woke disaster.

In terms of casting.

The worst is Lashana Lynch.

Not talented.  Not charming.  Completely ill-cast.

Jeffrey Wright is mediocre.

Nothing special.

The best is Naomie Harris.

SHE should have been the black, female 007 (if they were going to go that route).

For fucksake…she was a field agent in Skyfall.

Why the fuck did she get relegated to becoming M’s secretary?

She’s charming.

She’s capable.

Neither of which (in the acting sense) can be said about Lashana Lynch.

Lynch is most similar to Gloria Hendry in Live and Let Die.

At least Hendry was attractive.

Sexy.

And funny.

Or we could compare Lynch to another androgynous abomination:  Trina Parks (Thumper) in Diamonds Are Forever.

Nothing like a flat-as-a-board, muscular black woman to get the heterosexual male fired up.

This is, again (after all), an action movie.

Who is the target audience?

Does the LGBTQ community really get into James Bond?

I don’t fucking think so.

At least Trump is right about this:  “Everything woke turns to shit.”

There are disaster movies.

And then there are movies that are disasters.

This is the latter.

What a fucking woke piece of shit.

And who was responsible for this artistic abomination?

Bay Area failed-snowboarder, Japanese-American Cary Joji Fukunaga.

This dude was totally unqualified to shoot a Bond film.

And it shows.

What a fucking ripoff.

Don’t waste your money on this piece-of-shit film.

Danny Boyle (both excellent Trainspotting films) should have directed this movie.

It appears that Fukunaga not only killed James Bond, but killed the James Bond franchise as well.

Great job, fucktard!

Fuck you, you piece-of-shit, no-talent director.

-PD

 

Mateo [2014)

Here is a perfect film.

After awhile, you wonder whether such will ever appear again.

To call Mattew (Mateo) Stoneman a white “mariachi” singer is somewhat misleading.

But that’s the gist of it.

The premise.

Of this documentary.

No, this isn’t the Columbian drama Mateo from about the same year.

This is Mateo, the priceless documentary directed by Aaron Naar.

Why perfect?

Why priceless?

Because it is true.

I can attest.

To the life of the musician.

Somewhere…I must have been dreaming…while watching.

But the life of a musician is really not even worth two dollars.

I know.

I know the life of a rubbish-filled room.

Sleeping on some pillows.

Or a mattress on the floor.

Bedbug man comes to spray.

Doesn’t know where to start.

I know the life of playing crap gigs.

All for the big payoff.

To leave a legacy.

I know.

Mr. Stoneman (Mateo) references Scorsese.

That’s rich.  And right.

Talking to the filmmaker.

Do we ever see him?

The man with the movie camera?

I don’t know.

But he more-or-less makes himself invisible in this pungent story.

We get Los Angeles.

Where I should be.

But I chose another path.

And yet, Mateo chose the right one.

For him.

Follow the music.

Not the money.

Follow your heart.

Play and write and sing until your heart gives out.

Until the apple juice and Subway sandwiches finally kill you.

Bukowski described it as dog food.

The life of a writer.

Or musician.

Alpo.

Post office.

But what Mateo does is scrimp and save.

Because he’s addicted to recording.

Or rather, he’s making his masterpiece.

A $350,000 album.

Self-funded.

No record label.

Fuck ’em.

This guy, Mateo, has cojones.

A white man in a brown man’s genre.

But he’s all love.

Love for the music.

And the kicker is Cuba.

Yes, dear friends…

Much of our action happens in Havana.

Over and over and over again…Mateo travels to Cuba.

To record.

It’s real.

Quantegy GP9 tape.

2″

I may be useless to most of the world, but I get this.

Reel after reel after reel.

And so it is mambo.

But so soft and subtle.

Like the bossa nova of 60s Brazil.

But Mateo succeeds in his aspiration.

And so his voice is feathery-light…like Billie Holiday on Lady in Satin.

Because Mateo Stoneman had to pay his dues.

Prison.

A thief.

Almost like François Villon.

Stealing to make music.

To afford to record.

I’ve been there.

Pawned all my best shit.

To make a record.

Nobody heard.

Or cared about.

But finally for me it came down to family.

And we get some of that too.

Matthew (Mateo) Stoneman.

From New Hampshire.

We wonder about Ernest Stoneman.

Virginia.

And we get Ernest Hemingway.

20 years in Cuba.

“Who was he?,” asks the novia.

Dead guy.

Shot himself.

Up in Ketchum.

Next to where Ezra Pound, his champion, was from.

Hailey.

These are the savant details which Stoneman, Mateo can rattle off concerning music.

And I can do the same.

But I had to diversify.

So from cornering the market in shit, I spread my tentacles into manure.

A bit too pithy a metaphor.

But just so you know.

The life of a musician.

One minute up.

Touring Japan.  Or Sweden.

Signing autographs.

Wads of money in your pocket.

Next minute down.

Catching hell from the two-bit valets.

Having to pull out the LA Times.

Look.

This is me, motherfucker.

…it ain’t easy.

Sticking to your guns.

Your dreams.

Through extreme poverty.

Duress.

But Mateo shows you what it takes.

Dream big.

You might be autistic.

You might have crippling anxiety.

You might have existential episodes…depression…woozy disorientation.

“What the fuck am I doing?!?”

So do the best of them/us.

And so if I am counted “in that number”…of saints…like Mateo…then I am happy that I have lived my life bravely and to the last drop of blood and courage.

Ars gratia artis.

But for real!

-PD

Tokyo Fiancée [2014)

I have been absent.

Because work.

Not working, but looking.

Labor.

Jobs.

Money.

Healthcare.

I have been absent because anxiety.

Always.

But better.

Walking.

Stretching.

Exercise.

Rest.

Time.

And now the cosmos brings me a perfect film.

Because Pauline Étienne.

Actress full of joy.

But the grand auteur is Stefan Liberski.

Every color.

Every gesture.

You must pinstripe, tuck up your hair you haven’t.

You must primary color.

Yellow and red.  Made in U.S.A.

“You must fall in love with me,” says Pauline Étienne.

“I command you.”

[she continues]

And of all the girls in the world, the Belgians and Finnish are the most diabolically beautiful on film.

Godard said the Swiss.

Clear bias.

And so we have a Belgian film set in Japan.

If we try hard, we can hear Debussy.  Estampes…

Pagodes…

Sado Island… […]

To dream in the rain.

Cross the bridge.

And the river steams.

You seek a nectarine.

A noisy kiss.

Pauline Étienne.

Buttermilk legs joy rollerskate skinny.

Was taken from Salinger.

Joyce said spittoon.

As cuspidor.

The most beautiful word.

Girl.

Some films, books so good…too much to handle.

My wish.

To marry.

To have that happiness.

A mere handful of fives away from Valentine’s.

When Colombia and Ecuador will be pumping out roses for Starbuckers.

All along.

They said that sex was uncouth.

Or resorted to farm metaphors of propagating species.

But.

They couldn’t talk about love.

Excitement.

When your breath is stolen by a cold kiss.

In the autumn.

Winter.

And yet warmth from optimism.

But we must get on to the little back alleys of Tokyo.

And for a moment stop this dream.

To be born.

In Japan.

Of Belgian parents.

Does not a Japanese make.

I can suck the life out of Auden.

Elliptical.

Though I thought I was aping Céline.

But director Stefan Liberski is aping no one.

personne

We must mention the author and not the auteur, though in French there is no difference (save for the milieu of cinema).

And she gives us a fantastic story.

Amélie Nothomb.

No thumb.

Better than “all thumbs”.

Rhombus.

Can you suck on a diamond lozenge from a ring?

Lots of sucking.

But that’s the aw-kward + loneliness which makes a great film.

This one just happens to pull in Belgique and Nippon to boot.

It depends.

On her yellow socks.

On her haircut.

Pauline Étienne.

On sweater with blue stripes.

Like Edward Hopper did the cinematography.

But the Francophones have it figured out.

Every trick.

Which is to say.

No tricks.

Just emotion.

Realism.

No bullshit.

Embrace the history of film.

Compare and contrast.

What works?  What doesn’t?

What speaks to you?  How does a culture (French, par exemple) see a film?

Answer:  it doesn’t fucking matter.

What matters is the overflowing love and romance which infuses Tokyo Fiancée.

Only thing Lars von Trier ever did well was film Kirsten Dunst in the nude.

Stefan Liberski surpasses von Trier’s entire oeuvre with this one film.

Yes, I’m polemic as fuck!

I’ll take François Truffaut (the film critic) and a bottle of white wine for my friend.

I like red.

And Guy Debord.

I’ll take chances.

Damn.

I have taken so many fucking chances.

But we get scared.

Worn out.

Frightened by inexperience.

All of that is in the film.

Taichi Inoue is really sweet as Rinri.

But I keep coming back to Pauline Étienne.

She has cast a spell over me.

And I must ask:  who does she signify?

Forget the character name.

For each sad soul who dreams their way to the end.

She represents someone.

Fondue.

Teeth which nave never left the village.

New born yellow as unripe baby corn.

On the farm.

Maybe.

A different register (accent?) of French in Belgium.

Immediately recognizable to a Parisian.

And with little modesty lambasted as yokel French.

But perhaps the Belgians and Quebecois have this in common.

A cause for solidarity.

And add in the Swiss…with their weird counting and smoky lisp.

Is it?

Tokyo Fiancée hits harder than La Religieuse (2013) because it is not stilted nor steeped in period costumes.

Just tell a fucking story, we say.

Pauline Étienne.  Born in Ixelles.

How could anyone from such a place be any less than ravishing?

When we think in microcosm.

If we only know one Indian person.

They become India.

For us.

And complicate this with a multicultural relationship.

That is the gasoline of Tokyo Fiancée.

It is clean.  And genius.  Like Magritte.

A bowler hat.  An apple.  And MoMA depth.

We want to be in this Japan.

Because the eyes have captured the essence of magic.

Ingenuity.

Frivolity.

Fun.

Tokyo Fiancée succeeds at every point where Lost in Translation failed (which was at every point).

This is the real deal.

Real acting.

Real art.

Not a dilettante piece.

Sofia Coppola should send her usage permissions for My Bloody Valentine and Kevin Shields tracks to Stefan Liberski posthaste.

Such music is the only thing which could make Tokyo Fiancée any better.

And yet, it is a perfect film.

Don’t fuck with perfection.

Maybe again MBV and Liberski can have a meeting of minds.

But make sure to include the Anna Karina of our age.

Pauline Étienne.

An actress for which Francophonie has been searching for 60 years.

Well, here she is.

And this is the model:  Tokyo Fiancée.

Let the joy in her heart hit the screen (splat!).

Jump on the bed.  Ahhh!!!

In the mountains.  Wooh!  The rush.

An actress with all 21 petals on her Fibonacci daisy.

Which is to say, fully capable of cinema immortality.

I believe it was Mallarmé who wrote of “bursting pomegranates” (!)

Very few films have ever had this effect on me.

And I needed this one very bad.

To confirm that there are quirky, special people in the world.

That there are eyes who see beauty in the details I notice.

And that genius in the cinema is not dead.

Thank you Mr. Liberski.

And thank you Pauline Étienne for your performance which has brought hope to a very sad person in Texas.

Je veux exprimer ma plus profonde gratitude.

C’est infini.

-PD

Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? [2000)

This is a damn fine film.

Maybe yesterday I would have spoke as much with a mouthful of tobacco.

But today I take a more measured approach.

And still I must proclaim:  this film has aged like a fine wine.

I can find little fault with it.

No film will express all that we hold inside…exactly as we’d express it.

And so this is as close as we get to serendipity on a Tuesday night 🙂

Yes sir…let me tell you ’bout it.

I write to stay alive.

[now I’m telling you about me…or the film…by way of me]

We come from a long/short tradition.

Film critics.

Critics.

All the way back to the earliest Homer in the Greek.

Rage.

I owe Nick Tosches a debt of gratitude for pointing that out.

My favorite living writer.

This film [we’re back to the film] could have gone off the rails early on.

Like some errant Ken Burns pablum on PBS.

But the Coen brothers are of the most deft cinematic touch.

I have delved very little into their oeuvre.

Most recently I broached the subject with Fargo (a fine film), but Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? is a bona fide 😉 masterpiece.

You see, you must be conversant in naïveté as much as in erudition.

You must run the gamut from Delmar to Ulysses in order to evoke an appropriately universal sampling of the human condition.

Blind on a Pullman.  Nay.  Blind Sheriff Murnau.  Closer.

Blind but now I see.

Precisely.

Bill Moyers couldn’t get to Shakespeare in the recessed library.

Only God could move fate.

To see beauty.

For a moment to dream of a better life.

Saved from cancer.

I know not.

We feel it’s Isaiah.  Or the Oracle of Delphi.

Pythia.  As in pithy.

Icy.

You don’t get credit for half a master’s degree.

Ain’t no one in the world impressed by that.

Even if they should.

People like awards.  Bob Dylan said.

Grammys.  Nobels.

Sells records.  Books.  DVDs.  Tickets for admission.  Memorabilia.

But I doff my hat to Tosches and Quintilian.

We are all excursus.  As Céline was all ellipses.

[…]

The Sheriff is Cooley.  As in Spade.

A mean son of a bitch.

But we don’t care none about these transgressors no more.

The electorate has spoken.

50 states.

From the words Tommy Johnson.

It’s just a cool drink of water from Robert.

And we won’t even get into Lonnie.

We hear the devil is white.

Go to any American university and you will hear the same.

Indeed, our film only falters when it attempts to be too heavy-handed.

We uncloak what is cloaked in ourselves.

And this is the curse of critics.

No critic is writing about their subject.

In reality.

The underlying gist is always autobiography.

To admit as much should be refreshing.

But that is for you to decide.

Just sing into the can.

Voice your opinion.

On shellac.

For generations to plunder in treasure hunts of old South junk stores.

Searching for the Sugar Man/Soggy Bottom…Robert Johnson already dead when he became   sought after.

A prophet in his own land.

All is dream.  And religion comes to the silver screen.

The common man can relate.  And so can I.

With my Bible on my nightstand.

I ain’t ashamed to say.

I depend on God.

See Messiaen if you need abstraction.

Because Debussy gave the clouds first…and the sirens last.

And feasts or parties in between.

Night swimming.  Nocturnes.  Campfires.  Skip James.

Pulled from routine.

We were nearly eaten alive.

And we would have dived into that abyss out of desperation.

Yet the hand of the Lord was upon us.

Not for any deed which had ingratiated ourselves to Him.

But for grace.

Mercy.

Love.

No horror here.  Just a toad.  And Mark Twain.

And how to keep tobacco dry on a Mississippi River boat.

Uncle Sweetheart smells blood.

Years before Masked and Anonymous.

So be careful not to fall in love with your own reflection.

She said he was hit by a train.

And she looked good in a bikini.

To three pathetic roustabouts with no prospects.

Chewed up and spit out by both Tropics to wade in the water of possibility.

Nerds can box.

Maybe know an arcane martial art.

Don’t fuck with us.

But protagonists of epic poetry need something more than a couple of jabs and pinches.

Circumstances must have placed them in a true imbroglio…the mother of all situations.

The Gordian knot.

Ulysses is a lying bastard.  A mad man.  Advertising.  Op side coin propaganda.

But these are skills.  For gainful employment.  And we hover to ethics for guidance.

On how to wield words in the age of microblogging and memes.

He needed a story.

Chained together.

An inspiration.

Because we’re (for all intents and purposes) inseparable.

We can dream of $500,000 ($400,000)…as the “major D”…even the mâitre’d…if we’re feeling saucy.

Dream of land.

But what was Everett’s dream?

We know only later.

To spend 84 years in jail.

Released:  1987.

Incarcerated at age 3?

Not counting on these two to do the taxes.

The KKK took his baby away.  –Joey Ramone

Seems very Bohemian Grove.

But we don’t know these things.

We only know what we’ve gleaned from D.W. Griffith.

These synchronized David Dukes are meant to evoke a temple of doom.

It is the hinge (brisure) in the whole film (if we are doing a deconstructionist reading à la Derrida).

And thus auteur theory is vindicated.

Joel Coen had something to get off his chest regarding the treatment of blacks, JEWS, Catholics, etc.

We could deconstruct from there.

It’s easy.

Top psychiatrist Steve Pieczenik does it breezily when he traces Jill Stein back to her Jewish Chicago roots which give her the privilege to run as an agnostic.

But the Coen brothers are timeless artists here.

They have found the trick.

Hillary’s coven must have been on hiatus for the past few weeks.

Demoralized.

But it’s hard to fight back the tears as they get in front of that lozenge mic I’d associate with RCA…

As the Soggy Bottom Boys emerge from obscurity.

And they have a fan base (constituents).

And these mythical performers were not even confirmed to exist.

In the flesh.

Ah, but public relations…

He was proto- “drain the swamp” with his little man and broom.

But the planets shifted.

And he’s on a hot mic inserting both feet into his mouth, one at a time, very slowly, with each succeeding word.

The way politics works.

In Mississippi.  Louisiana.  Texas.

Suck on a cigar.  Think it over.  Maybe some cognac or brandy.

And seize upon an opportunity.

To hire the best.

The best who have appeared on this stage at this moment for this very reason.

Three years after Titanic and the Coen brothers wanted a weightless freak show of inanimate objects floating as Japanese melange symbolism.

I am the man with the can.  Not Dapper Dan.  And no record-cutting lathe.

Just a tin of tobacco.  My floating life.  And all we’ve been through.

Memory soup.

We pull up to the aquarium to peer into the mysteries of other realities.

And, by so doing, try to make sense out of our own.

-PD

続・座頭市物語 [1962)

[THE TALE OF ZATOICHI CONTINUES (1962)]

I must admit that The Tale of Zatoichi didn’t leave a lasting impression on me.

But this film, The Tale of Zatoichi Continues, is a masterpiece.

This time out, we are treated to the direction of Kazuo Mori.

It is a very artful, weightless creation.  Floating, as they say…

Entertainment…the fad of movies…with ever changing tastes.

But yet art, all the same…like Hokusai.

It seems that this was the last film Mr. Mori directed.

It’s a very special picture.

But we must return to the man who plays the blind, wandering masseur (!) Zatoichi.

Shintaro Katsu is so phenomenal here!!!

It all revolves around integrity.

Simple actions.

But we find real cinema in the tickling massage of an eccentric lord.

Indeed, wandering masseur does not exactly translate to American genres such as the Western.

But Zatoichi is a swordsman of the highest renown.

His walking cane contains his sword (just in case).

He is a reasonable man.

Not to be bullied.

It’s unnecessary.

Karma will bring about one last shared laugh.

After stopping by the stream.

After Beethoven Symphony No. 6.

The underwater grass swaying with the currents.

And the three levels (worlds) about which M.C. Escher taught us.

A bug…or a pebble…polished stone…sinks…ripple.

Little blossoms of yellow.

We don’t know.  1962.  We imagine.

Friendship has withered like fish left on their lines in the summer sun.

Dried.  Desiccated.

Decision theory.

Yes, it is abrupt.

But not to be missed.

 

-PD

座頭市物語 [1962)

[THE TALE OF ZATOICHI (1962)]

How are we supposed to understand Nissan?

If we don’t understand Hokusai?

And Fukushima.

And Zatoichi.

This, here, is The Tale of Zatoichi.

Directed by Kenji Misumi.

Artful camera-pen pans to heightened senses.

But Shintaro Katsu is our humble warrior.

As you like it.

But you must have a keyhole.

You must have a way into this oeuvre.

And so we think Nissan.

But also Roland Kirk.

Forever, Roland Kirk.

Maybe Marcus Roberts at the piano.  Yes.  Computing.

And Art Tatum as a whirlwind.

Professional courtesy.

No one could understand me.

You must get deep to understand the soldier.

Stage 4.

All the world’s a Dutch proverb.

 

-PD

青春残酷物語 [1960)

[CRUEL STORY OF YOUTH, (1960)]

Today was a bad day.

You would be shocked (dear readers) if I asserted the opposite.

No, there is no sugarcoating it.

But that’s ok. [Ah!]

Such anxiety.  Such fear.  Such trepidation.

Ah!  That wasn’t so bad.

But don’t breathe relief too soon.  [Sigh…]

We’re surrounded by morons.  Condescending illiterates.

A fistful of assholes.

Yes, that Japanese up there indeed does not read Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist.

Things fall apart.  Shit happens.  Sometimes, the shit hits the fan.

That is the story of Nagisa Oshima’s Cruel Story of Youth.

Seishun Zankoku Monogatari…that’s what it says.

Kinda like Ugetsu Mongatari (which I reviewed some time back).

物語

Epic.

And it is.  More or less.

The story of Mako and Kiyoshi.

No magical powers here.  This is like the Japanese version of À bout de souffle.

If we don’t understand French (and we don’t), then we really shouldn’t be fooling around with Japanese.

That is my 2 cents…me, and the royal we.

Inseparable.

Mako and Kiyoshi.

Will they survive this cruel world?

Perhaps they must be cruel themselves to survive it?

And perhaps only Kiyoshi (cool as Jean-Paul Belmondo) is cruel?

Mako is no Jean Seberg.

She might be a coquette, but she’s not une dégueulasse.

Our film followed on the heels of Godard’s Breathless by a mere four months.

And what about Jerry Lee Lewis’ “Breathless”?

It preceded Godard’s film by two years (1958).

Any one else out of breath???

How about those Japanese protestors?

They weren’t keen on the Anpo treaty.

[Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security between the United States and Japan]

Yeah, a mere 15 years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki…and Japan was a beaten nation.

Doubly beaten.

Because they joined hands with their brethren (us) who had so recently vaporized them.

And so no wonder people were protesting.

But we don’t see protests in movies.

Not real protests.  Not anymore.

In fact, Japan does not even exist for the U.S. anymore.

Japan is like a house cat.

Domesticated.

Japan protests nothing.

Their economy slides with ours.

They are between a rock and a hard place.

Seemingly forever.

It is a geopolitical fault-line.

In the film we see South Koreans protesting.

This ended long ago (for us brainwashed viewers in the West).

Only the Chinese protest.

Tiananmen Square.  1989.

And CNN had a bird’s-eye view of tank man.

A bit too perfect.

But yes:  every nation protests.

Except the well-behaved Japanese and South Koreans.

But what about these recent tremors?

Okinawa.

As recently as February of this year.

Just what is going on?

Anpo is that famously robust treaty…in effect longer than anything since the Peace of Westphalia (1648).

I am reminded of my most erudite friend’s knowing focus on the war which these treaties (a series in 1648) ended.

Thirty years.

It was a bad day for Mako.  Rape.

The valiant rapist.

What?

It is like Dostoyevsky.

Stick around and the plot thickens.

Buked and scorned by Yuki (the sister).

Youth…how cruel it is to be taken.

And then our lovers reenact The Kid with no windows (but plenty of stones).

But I’m most sad for Horio.

It’s the old man in me.

Finally the reification gets to be too much for Mako.

And a tear rolls down her cheek.  In her sleep.

Busy signal.  Pink Floyd’s The Wall.

Twenty years.

A cement mixer.

Is she?  No.  It can’t end like that!

“This ain’t prostitution…IT’S EXTORTION! (tortion)! (torsion)!”

They call them the diamond dogs.

Oshima with a shadow play.

Kiyoshi holds Mako in the foreground.

Aki implores Yuki in the background.

[And for subtitlers everywhere, please think before you use the phrase “for old time’s sake” in a Japanese film.]

In her polka dot dress with the leeks peeking from the grocery sack.

Blammo!

The futility of youth.

The grimy uncertainty…the shifting sands.

The idealism made to lick the city sidewalk.

The valiant rapist saint.

INRI.

Ecce homo.

And Mako, fragile, with a bloody cheek.

 

-PD

Il Deserto rosso [1964)

My hair hurts.

She says.

Yes.

This is one of the miracles of cinema.

Every frame a painting with a camérastylo.

One critic will boil it down to “mental illness”.

And Monica Vitti does that very well.

Red hair.  Red desert.

But we should know Antonioni by now.

This is that existential nausea you used to hear of at coffee shops.

Except the coffee shops no longer exist.

And Manhattan is a ghost ship with no one on board.  Saying nothing.

No doubt Kubrick visited this for 2001.  And George Lucas for THX 1138.

But we are more interested in Godard.

Il Deserto rosso is a film for filmmakers.

Mulholland Dr. stands no chance.

But why?

Because, yes, we all feel like this.

Lost.

The floating world in Japanese mythology.

No doubt Kurosawa pinched the end bit for Dreams.

It’s ok.

That’s what makes Il Deserto rosso a watershed film.

In the shed.  Surrounded by water.

A proto-orgy.

Roman atavism at the group level.

No, no…

I’m not getting anywhere.

The critics will cry “overwrought”.

What we have here is really a sick sadness.

Feel too much.

Bowie’s Low title is above the artist in profile.

Low profile.

And that color.

Her hair.

What acting!

Is it?

Bow down to the master Michelangelo.

One of the true auteurs.

For the uninitiated it will seem unbearably pretentious.

Or just confusing.

It will seem that there is no plot.

And, indeed, in space there is no “up” or “down”.

There are simply bodies with sufficient mass to exert gravity.

Is that the way to say it?

Is that how it works?

Because we are all floating, right?

32 feet per second per second.

[sic]

Acceleration of falling bodies.

God bless her…

Always a sinking feeling.

Because her husband is a vapid jerk.

And the most sensitive guy can’t get close enough…cause she’s nuts.

Makes perfect sense.

Our own worst fears played out by the players on the screen.

Sei personaggi in cerca d’autore.

Precisely.

Pirandello.

Logic bombs and bombs of illogic.

The latter in Dadaism.

Hackers who terrorize simply to make their point.

To outsmart.

Legacy networks and newer nets introduced in phases…

Allowing for GDP, profit margin, and public sector infrastructure.

Which is to say, DARPA.

And where does the film critic fit in?

Merely as a voice…reminding…don’t forget your Sun Tzu.

Everything else will be diverted to slag heaps and holding tanks.

Opaque tanks…glowing green like antifreeze.

Does this sound like a fun adventure?

Then Il Deserto rosso is for you.

And for me.

Because I identify with Monica Vitti’s character so much.

Afraid of everything.

My hair hurts.

 

-PD

Deutschland im Jahre Null [1948)

The first thing film critics have to get right is the title.

Let me explain a bit.

On my site, I always list a film in its original language (to the best of my ability).

In my opinion, that is the best way of honoring the film.

So far, I have encountered the mild idiosyncrasies of Romanian, Serbo-Croat, Czech, and Polish in addition to the mind-blowing intricacy of Farsi and Japanese.

But with Deutschland im Jahre Null we are seeing a German-language film by an Italian director…sort of.

Italy has a very peculiar tradition concerning voiceovers and direct (or, conversely, indirect) sound.  It is an oddity which caught the attention of Godard in his role as film historian.

I cannot give you as erudite an explanation as my hero Jean-Luc, but suffice it to say that foreign (non-Italian) films in Italy have traditionally been overdubbed into Italian.  So, in other words, no subtitles.

This is distinct from an American viewer watching a Fellini film.  The “American” version (whether on DVD or as a film print in a theater) will be in Italian with subtitles in English.  This goes for almost all foreign-language (non-English) films marketed in the United States.

But getting back to Deutschland im Jahre Null…  It is similar to the Danish director Carl Th. Dreyer directing the French film La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc…with one major difference.  Dreyer’s film was a silent one (the only French being the intertitles).  Rossellini’s Deutschland im Jahre Null is very much in German.  We are hearing German actors speak (exclusively) German dialogue.

What is most interesting is the linguistic lineage of this film.  In English, this film is known as:

Germany, Year Zero

Which is quite similar to Rossellini’s preceding masterpiece (in linguistic parallel):

Rome, Open City

To be fair, let’s consider the Italian name (the real name) of Rome, Open CityRoma città aperta.  Fine.  That is the way I recognize the film.  The true name is (in my mind) Roma città aperta.

But with Deutschland im Jahre Null we come to a very strange case.  If we do not recognize the primacy of its English title (Germany, Year Zero), and I do not, then we are directed by that great arbiter of cultural legitimacy Wikipedia to consider our options exhausted by being cognizant of the Italian title (Germania anno zero).

What is the message of this omission by English Wikipedia?  I believe the message is that Germany was (and continues to be) a null.  A zero.  A conquered culture.

We see a similar thing in the kowtowing stereotype of conquered Japan.  And though Japan might be experiencing some moderate-to-light financial troubles in recent years, Germany is by all accounts the economic powerhouse of continental Europe.  Why do I bring economics into the discussion?  Because wealthy nations are able to assert themselves.

But let us step back a bit.  Wikipedia does have some tasty morsels of information concerning this film.  If the source can be trusted, this 1948 film was not shown in Germany (the country from whence the language of the film takes its name) until 1952.  After its single screening in München (Munich), it was not heard from again within those borders until it ran on German television in 1978. 

Wow…26 years.  Either this film was grossly misunderstood, or it was understood all too well.  From my reading, this is a very pro-German document.

Rossellini was not George Stevens making concentration camp propaganda.  Roberto was making art.  The sign of art is the admission of possibilities.  Art seduces us because it is subtle.  Art does not proclaim in blanket statements.  Art does not underestimate the intelligence of the viewer.

Roberto Rossellini did something with his “war films trilogy” which seems to have been unprecedented.  The desire of neorealism was to film fiction as if it were documentary.  This fiction would be, likewise, based on reality.

But why is it, then, that we have very different views of Roberto Rossellini and Robert Flaherty?

I will tell you my guess.  Flaherty’s sin was in the framing of his presentation.  To wit, he presented his staged documentaries (take the oil industry propaganda piece Louisiana Story for instance) as if they were naturally-occurring, spontaneous documentaries. The sin, then, was his duplicitous relationship with his subjects.  He actively made his human subjects into actors.

Rossellini takes a different tack.  There is no pretense that Deutschland im Jahre Null is an ACTUAL documentary.  It merely has the feel of that medium.  Likewise, Rossellini’s use of nonprofessional actors was likely more of a precursor to Robert Bresson than a twist on Flaherty’s bizarre formula (which predated Roberto in both Nanook of the North [1922] and Man of Aran [1934]).  No, Rossellini had created something new. 

It’s not so much the films of Flaherty to which I object as it is the idea of them.  At least one of his concoctions (perhaps thanks to director F.W. Murnau) is very fine indeed:  Tabu [1931].  Flaherty and Murnau co-wrote this ostensible documentary.  Indeed, with Flaherty we come into contact with inchoate, obscure film genres such as docudrama, docufiction, fictional documentary (ethnofiction), etc. etc. etc.

Most importantly, none of what I have written here has even scratched the surface of Deutschland im Jahre Null.   What ever became of the heartrending main child actor Edmund Moeschke?  I do not know.

One thing is certain to me:  no film before Rossellini’s “war trilogy” (Roma città aperta, Paisà, and Deutschland im Jahre Null) [1945/1946/1948] takes on such politically sensitive and important topics in such a raw way.  The closest would be the socialism of Eisenstein or the humanism of Chaplin. 

It is, therefore, no wonder at all that Rossellini spawned a million “new waves” the world over.

 

-PD