The Last Wave [1977)

Australia has fallen.

To what?

To whom?

Illuminati backwards.

Itanimulli.

Dot com.

Redirects to nsa.gov.

Check it yourself.

itanimulli.com

itanimulli.net has been removed.

But it too redirected to nsa.gov

But the real kicker is itanimulli.org

Which redirects to minervallux.com

Minerva?

Owl?

The landing page is a golden owl.

At the bottom of the page are the years:

2016 2017 2018 2019 2020 2021.

Hitting 2016 redirects you to dc24.minervallux.com

There is a pyramid with an all-seeing eye and five blank spaces which each say “enter code”.

Four icons on this screen open up.

First is the number 8 with the downward slash through the top loop.

It opens as:

Next is the pyramid with the all-seeing eye.

It opens as:

Next is the pixel palette.

It opens as:

And finally is the right-facing arrow.

It opens as:

Tracing our steps back to 2017.

Clicking that number leads to dc.25.minervallux.com

And this image:

Clicking the DNA-strand brick at bottom right opens this:

Moving left, the next brick opens as:

Continuing to move left and clicking on the keystone:

The final stone at left on the bottom row opens as:

Moving up a row (and back to the right), we find this upon opening:

Continuing to move left on this row we find:

All the way to the left, we find this:

Moving up a row (and staring at the right):

Moving left:

But clicking on the all-seeing eye reveals nothing. It does not open out into a new window.

It should be noted that you can “register” for whatever the fuck (a game?) this site is.

Clicking on “privacy terms” does nothing.

There is also a “login” screen:

This whole thing reminds me a bit of Comet Ping Pong.

Wasn’t there some login capability there?

But this is WAY MORE Cicada 3301.

The years of the Trump Presidency.

Plus one.

The pyramid rotates.

It appears to have four sides.

Applying same method to pop out screens:

Some blocks are repeated. Including only originals gleaned from rotating pyramid:

Moving to the third side of the pyramid:

The lock stone simply reads:

Cryptography.

Cryptology.

Ciphers.

It’s looking like 2017 is way more interesting (complex) than 2016.

Q started 2017.

A piece of parchment.

Some gold dust on a drill bit.

On closer examination, the “privacy terms” tab does open with a notice regarding reCAPTCHA.

BTW…the address should be read as Minerval Lux (apparently).

This whole thing has the feel of the Kryptos statue at CIA headquarters.

2018

dc26.minervallux.com

Same method:

https://open.spotify.com/album/0dq2zPvB0tKDh9zvL5G7Xb?si=GeWK6jaUSnK_mkUreUiRZw&nd=1

By this point you’re probably asking, “What the fuck is all this shit?”

We need some context.

We need to keep in mind Pieczenik’s statements about CYBERCOM and Space Force.

There’s a crack in the pyramid. All fractals appear to be the same (requesting 17 code). One block blank (black) requesting 0 code.

How does Finnegans Wake help?

How does Histoire(s) du cinéma help?

How does Das Passagen-Werk help?

Do we have it all?

Are patriots in control?

Can anything stop what is coming?

What is coming?

NSA in Australia.

Alice Springs.

Quarantine camps.

Q camps in Songbird.

Excellent film.

And Contagion.

Essential viewing to decode plandemic.

Emhoff.

Sussmann.

2019

Event 201.

Which Q posts indicate that Q group knew 2020 election was going to be stolen and/or that a virus was about to be unleashed?

Clicking delta middle left:

Apparently all the same in the middle.

Rotating outer ring:

Gordian knot.

Rotating inner ring. No combinatory permutations?

Hag.

Fascism.

[lovely]

Goldsworthy with the leaves.

Thomas Drake?

Raitlin’s challenge.

DEFCON.

2020

Are you tired of this shit yet?

https://t.me/deathwishpauly

2021

Who dares wins.

Thick fuck?

One goes to NSA. itanimulli.com

The other recruits (?) for CYBERCOM? itanimulli.org

This redirect has been going on since 2012?

[same year Illuminati Party LLC was established?]

When did the admirals and generals get together and decide to NOT stage a coup on Obama but (rather) get behind Trump?

Some say it’s all a hoax:

https://itanimullihoax.wordpress.com/

You know what else is in Utah?

The Utah Data Center.

https://open.spotify.com/track/1fbmO0UUzEwPrgXEfdjPqo?si=crGF2Ec0R-WMu3HKTiszxQ&nd=1

-PD

Senso [1954)

How does love turn into hate?

Does it ever work the other way around?

Hate into love?

Because the natural course seems to be love into hate.

Vulnerability into hurt.

Hurt into resentment.

And somewhere along the continuum, God forbid, revenge.

Senso, despite its extravagant period costumes and generous budget, is still a product of neorealism.

Sure…it’s hard for most of us to relate to a Countess.

That’s why I can’t read Tolstoy. I can’t read Fitzgerald. Not even out of curiosity or hatred.

I can only read Dostoyevsky. I have only ever related to the outlaw.

Of outlaw literature.

But cinema does a funny thing.

We may not be able to really “get into” Il Trovatore or Der Freischütz, but occasionally a talented auteur can make us appreciate the truly foreign: a higher social class.

In this case, it is the highest.

The nobility.

In English we might (but probably won’t) know it as the Third Italian War of Independence. How confusing. That would seem to entail a July 4th (for us Americans) three times a year (assuming there wasn’t a fourth war).

In plain terms, it was Austria vs. Italy (rather like a soccer match).

Football. Footie. FTSE. Yes…

All rather humdrum after the smoke has wafted away.

Idiots, they call us.

Those who fight.

Some join an army. Very brave.

Others expose themselves needlessly. What might be termed “impulsive” or again “thoughtlessness”.

What does this?

In both cases, pride (generally speaking).

Sure, a professional soldier makes a decent living (as long as he or she is living), but said soldier is a chess piece of one type or another…always manipulated from above…lacking autonomy.

And yet, perhaps, no price is too high to pay people who are willing to die to defend their country.

But we must define country.

Defending those who cannot (for one reason or another) defend themselves is indeed honorable.

Defending the abstract structures and mechanisms of a state, perhaps less so…

And yet, a pride can infuse the defense of all of this (either separately or collectively).

And then there is the rebel.

Perhaps the rebel will never again find his army in the first world.

In terms of class warfare, then, the United States is a frozen conflict zone.

Just like Abkhazia or some other little-talked-about blip on the map.

Is there a class war?

Should there be a class war?

Shouldn’t wars of all kinds have been evolved out of existence long ago?

Yes?

No…the rebel shan’t find his army in America.

The battlefield has changed.

And as bathos is my witness, “love is a battlefield”!

Discourse on Benatar.

Cannot contain the dodo on his perch.

But never does Luchino Visconti stoop to such poor taste.

No.

Fever pitch, yes.

But poor taste, never.

Because he is telling Spengler’s story.

And he is still telling WWII.

There can be no avoiding that. Nine years later.

It must be couched in allegory.

And I, like Baudelaire, am nourished by my own misery.

All of this I owe to Walter Benjamin.

Avoid the jalapeno pronunciation. ~ath do us part.

Alida Valli gets to show more of her breadth here than in the criminally underrated Paradine Case (no pun intended).

Pennies and “the” will be eliminated from the verbal money supply.

Farley Granger is more of a maniac than in Rope (the Hitchcock closest to my snob heart).

Most importantly, Visconti sets the mood with Bruckner’s 7th Symphony.

And now Carlo Maria Giulini’s recording for Deutsche Grammophon makes more sense.

Senso in what sense?

Direction?

Love leaves you with a worthless compass.

The sun begins to revolve around the Earth.

What a perilous pleasure.

That we hope for forever until our end of days.

No matter the hurt…always more.

For the romantic.

-PD

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La Vie d’Adèle – Chapitres 1 & 2 [2013)

Sometimes we wonder whether the sadness is worth it.

In our epic lives which seem unbearable.

We only wanted a laugh for a second.

But we’ve felt too much. Seen too much. Too knowing.

All week long.

Misery.

And I have a letter in my heart.

But she won’t read it.

Won’t respond.

I am too sad to live.

Like Poe. Like Baudelaire. Especially.

Sitting for long hours in the café which really isn’t a café.

It’s a class struggle.

I can’t afford to be sad.

And I can’t afford not to love you.

This is Blue is the Warmest Color by Abdellatif Kechiche.

He.

Takes his time unwinding this story.

So delicate. As lovers with mangoes.

Nobody’s listening.

Praise be to God!

I can’t.

Reveal myself to the world like that.

For it is Adèle Exarchopoulos and Léa Seydoux who have made the perfect film.

Real blood and real tears.

Cinema demands it.

From under the shadows of Godard, Kechiche.

Don’t let it scare you away.

Persevere!

Because this film was wholly deserving of the Palme d’Or.

It’s not a lesbian love story.

It’s not even really a love story.

It’s loss.

Walking away.

Lonely like Anna Karina or Louise Brooks.

Heels clicking pavement.

She couldn’t get close to anybody.

And when she finally does?

It’s devastating.

Devastatingly beautiful.

But devastating.

So many tears in this orgy of Frenchness.

Like Verlaine and Rimbaud.

“You’re gonna make me lonesome when you go”

I’ve seen one actress do it (Anamaria Marinca).

But I’ve never seen two actresses do it.

Together. Like Ginsberg and Corso.

Perhaps.

Ouroboros.

Really, it’s just Exarchopoulos.

I could say the name a million times.

Thank you.

Typically French.

Untypically thorough.

Kechiche.

Tunisia.

France.

Greece.

There’s joy in those tears.

Because acting doesn’t permit this.

Cinema doesn’t permit this.

It’s not The Brown Bunny blue.

Blue is the coldest color.

Timing.

Pacing.

Nothing.

And beingness.

What?

Exarchopoulos. Exarchopoulos. Exarchopoulos.

And [poof!] she appears 🙂

Teach me something I don’t know.

The birth of the world.

The middle movement Mozart clarinet concerto like Breathless.

I’m too tired and my French isn’t good.

I’m literally at the end of breath.

But don’t go…

Stay a moment longer.

And linger.

Stay with me with the damned.

What can I offer them?

When my troubles have been so mundane.

No.

Love vastly, hurt immensely.

Learn the real life.

Of Arabic and real estate and dreams destroyed.

I will never be a movie star.

God damn it.

We just want our spark in a bottle to be found.

Our quark. Her quirk.

Hair all down in her face.

Don’t get me started…

It’s not the Bond girl who fascinates.

It’s the girl of the winding arcades…

Straight and narrow.

Zaftig. Not the svelte punk.

Lots of spaghetti like Gummo and a chocolate bar through the tears.

My God…

What did I just witness?

Sex is the least important aspect of this film.

Titillation misses the point.

It’s that connection that she so dearly wanted.

This is the loneliest job.

-PD

2 Comments

paulydeathwish

musician and film critic

Tag Archives: The Arcades Project

The Last Wave [1977)

La Vie d’Adèle – Chapitres 1 & 2 [2013)