I Contain Multitudes – I Am Legion

     Here it is – Like Whitman, I contain multitudes. I am Legion.

    “That’s not funny, Carter. I’ve always said you were Satanic.

    Yeah, yeah, yeah. Give me my influences. Give me my heroes. Le t me name them:

    Archibald MacLeish – librarian poet
    Madeline L’Engle – universalist author, Christian author
    Burroughs – both Edgar Rice and William
    William Booth – the only General I would follow

    Howard Zinn – historian
    Marc Chagall – dreamer, poet, painter, fool

    “You’re a fool, Carter. Everything you say only confirms it the more…”

    Gustavo Gutiérrez – Dominican liberationist
        and
    Roger Corman – the king of cult

    “You go too far.”

    Give me scream queens. Give me Elvira,
    Give me Neil Young and Nick Cave.
    Give me Camus and Kierkegaard
    Give me the blessed Saint Francis and Sister Death

    “Stop. Stop. You’re only embarrassing yourself with this… contortion. This confession.”

    Kropotkin. Cash. Dylan.
    Brian Wilson. John Coltrane and John Yoder (though, I acknowledge the danger)
    Umberto Eco, and Echo and the Bunnymen

    “I don’t even know these names. No one cares.”

    Poe, and King, and Dick
    Sartre, Beauvoir, Silverstein
    Give me Black Francis screaming into the void

    “You need to stop. This is unhealthy.”

    Give me Martin Luther King Junior

    “He was an adulterer”

    I know, but give me Tillich.

    “Pornographer.”

    I know, but give me…

    “No. I will give you nothing.”

    Give me Jesus.

    “Jesus! The Blasphemy you breathe…”

A Dim-Remembered Story

“Dude, what are we watching?”

“It’s a…”

“It’s weird, man.”

“…French film from the 1980s, setting an Edgar Allan Poe story in space… I think.”

“You think?  Which one?”

“I’m not sure. The sound quality is pretty bad, and it’s hard to tell what they’re saying without the subtitles.”

“Can you…”

“What?”

“What?”

“You said, ‘Can you…’ and then you stopped.  Can I, what?”

“I dunno, man. Can you?”

“Oh shut up and watch the movie.”

"Okay, okay, man. You don’t have to be so testy. What are we watching?”

“It might be The Fall of the House of Usher. I think the space station is supposed to be Roderick’s castle.”

“And it’s going to fall, like … like…  … like Skylab or something?”

“Yeah. At least I think, maybe."

“Cool. Who are those guys in the rainbow colored jumpsuits and motorcycle helmets?”

***

“RED Angel, Uriel, Power of light, regent of the sun. Ready!”

“ORANGE Angel, Raphael, Power of health, binder of the desert demon. Ready!”

“YELLOW Angel, Raguel, Bringer of Fire and harmony. Ready!”

“GREEN Angel, Samael, Angel of venom and poison. Ready to kick some ass!”

“Watch yourself, Samael. You’re a good angel on a short leash. BLUE Angel, Michael, the Great Prince. Ready!”

“PURPLE Angel, Gabriel, Power of strength and player of cool jazz. Ready!”

“VIOLET Angel, Phanuel, the Face of God, sustainer of hope. Ready!”

(IN UNISON) “Gathered together, the forces of heaven, numbering seven, angels forever! Huh!”

***

“Dude, that Edgar Allan Poe was trippin’…”

“Quiet. Let me watch this.”

“Alors! Ethelred leva sa massue et frappe sur la tete du dragon qui tomba devant lui et rendit son soufflé empeste avec...”

“Dude, this is really weird. Tell me that doesn’t look like a giant Charles Manson.”

“Shut up. You’re high and you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously, dude! Those power-ranger angels are fighting Gigantor Charlie Manson. Look! There’s the swastika carved on his forehead!”

“You’re crazy… that’s not… it’s… You may be right.”

***

“Gabriel, proceed against the bastard and the reprobate; advance against that child of fornication.  Destroy the Watcher’s evil son!”

“I hear, and I obey, Oh Michael!”

“Phanuel, Angel of exorcisms, expel this Satan. I can no longer bear to look upon him.”

“I hear, and I obey, Oh prince!”

***

No sooner had these syllables passed my lips, than – as if a shield of brass had indeed, at the moment, fallen heavily upon a floor of silver – I became aware of a distinct, hollow, metallic, and clangorous, yet apparently muffled reverberation. The band began to sing: “Every time I think about it I want to cry, With the bombs and the devils, And the kids keep coming, Nowhere to breathe…”

While they gazed, this fissure rapidly widened – there came the fierce breath of whirlwind, of the dragon who was thrown down – the entire orb of the satellite burst into flames and began its final fiery descent to the earth.  There was a long tumultuous shout, like the voice of a thousand waters, and then silence.

Short Night of Glass Dolls

Edgar Allan Poe’s story The Premature Burial begins “There are certain themes of which the interest is all-absorbing but which are too entirely horrible for the purpose of legitimate fiction.   These the mere romanticist must eschew, if he do not wish to offend, or to disgust.”

The Italian giallo genre of thriller/horror films, (of which Aldo Lado’s film Short Night of Glass Dolls is an example) dealt with those horrible themes – with murder and death and mystery with stylish camerawork and unusual musical soundtracks.  Often giallo films include a lengthy murder sequence with operatic style.  It’s not a genre that is hugely popular in America, but it does have its devotees. Though Short Night of Glass Dolls (La Corta notte delle bambole di vetro) 1971 is listed as a giallo it is unusual in its lack of some of those elements that define the genre.  It doesn’t have the copious bloodletting or the erotic elements common to giallo, but it is still a strong mystery of a movie.

Tapheophobia (from the Greek taphos – “grave”) is the fear of being buried alive.

The film begins with the discovery of the body of an American journalist, Gregory Moore, lying – apparently dead – in a park in Prague.  The doctors can find no pulse, there appears to be no respiration, but his body temperature remains steady and there is no postmortem rigidity. 

Moore is, somehow, still alive and thinking, though unable to move or to communicate with those around him.  He can do nothing to convince them that he is still alive.  All he can do is remember.  “…it’s the only way I can tell I’m alive.”

And so in stuttering series of flashbacks, he recalls the events that led up to his death – his apparent death.  He remembers his girlfriend (played by Barbara Bach – Bond girl and wife of Ringo Starr) and her mysterious disappearance.  He remembers his investigation and the clues that led him to his mysterious end.

And the more that he remembers the stranger the story become causing the viewer to wonder if what he remembers is real, or if he’s gone mad because of his condition.  And the more he remembers the more we wonder if he will be able to wake up from this deathly nightmare – from this deathly paralysis.  The tension mounts inexorably as the doctors prepare his body for an autopsy – a procedure which will leave him as dead as he appears to be.

The director’s use of butterflies as a metaphor for youth and vitality is well played throughout the film - and it should be noted that the original title for the film was "Short Night of the Butterflies" but this had to be abandoned at the last minute (even though it makes more sense than Short Night of the Glass Dolls…)

 This is why it is said:

   “Wake up, sleeper,

   rise from the dead,

   and Christ will shine on you.”

Ephesians 5: 14

The film’s score was composed by Ennio Morricone.  It’s interesting but not nearly as inspired as his music for The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

  

A Mystery of Mysteries

-from the poem Spirits of the Dead by Edgar Allan Poe