Archive for April 2009

La Jetée

Tuesday, 21 April 2009

This is a translation of a paper I wrote for a French films class last year about La Jetée, a 28-minute French science fiction film from 1962. (Incidentally, French science fiction films are very rare—I know of only one other film, although I’ve never seen it: Alphaville.) I also included the French version, although I imagine it has many grammar mistakes. I was never that good at French, so I translated what I meant, which for all I know is not what I wrote. Also, the paper included a discussion of an unrelated film which I had no interest in, so I cut everything from the paper related to that film.

When writing this paper I assumed that the reader had already seen the film, so it gives away parts of the plot, and it might be hard to follow the discussion. If you are inclined to watch the film, I recommend seeing it before you read this. I’m posting this because one of the concepts I brought up in the paper should lead in to some posts that I intend to write later.

La Jetée is the story of a man who is fixated by an image of his past. He suppresses all of his other memories and lives a detached life, as if the entire world were a dream and the image in his memory were the only reality. The man has a memory so powerful that he can live in the world of his memory and escape his daily life.

In the film, we see the story of a man who is obsessed by a memory of an image from his childhood—of a jetty and of a man who dies, and above all of a woman’s face. As an adult, the man fought in the Third World War and his only memory of peace, of a time before the war, is his memory of that moment on the jetty. He faced the brutal realities of the war and after the war, a terrible subterranean existence during a nuclear winter. To escape his life, he held on to his memory of the woman’s face. He did not know the woman, and he did not know if his memory were true, if the face corresponded to a real woman; he knew only the face in his memory. He was fixated on the face during the day, and he dreamed of the face during the night.

The entire film is a montage of photos, except for one very brief scene. Because there is no motion, the scene seem surreal like in a dream, as if you are not really there. The first and the last scenes of the film, on the jetty, have a realistic soundtrack: you hear the planes, people, etc. These scenes are the most realistic of the film. The first scene on the jetty is a vivid memory. In the last scene, the man revives his vivid memory. In all the other scenes of the film, the soundtrack does not reflect what you would hear if you were there.

Sometimes, there is no soundtrack except for the narration. During the experiments, you here the abductors muttering, but you don’t hear the background noises. In these scenes, the soundtrack has too little sound. There is the suspicion that you are watching a memory of someone where the person remembers only an image, or an image and the frightening noises of the abductors, but he forgot the daily, uninteresting sounds.

In the scene with the woman on the bed, the soundtrack has too much sound to be realistic. At the start, the soundtrack seems to be some birds singing but after several seconds, the sound grows to a chaotic noise that does not resemble birds. The photos change more frequently for an effect that resembles motion. Finally, there is a brief scene with video. The video and the excessive sound denote a remarkable moment in the film: the man experiences his memory that was his mania, his repressed hope of a peaceful and happy life, and his marvelous experiences in a foreign time, a juxtaposition so powerful that the moment seems for him more real than his daily life. He experiences, in effect, hyperreality: a moment that is more real than reality itself.

The majority of the film consists of photos that give the scenes a detached feeling. Therefore, in the scenes in the past, his memories seem imperfect, as if he remembers only the moments of his past that were the most striking. But we see the present in the same fashion; because of his difficult and joyless life, he became detached from his life. When his abductors took him to carry out an experiment, he had no objection. When he is released after the experiments, he know that they will kill him but he is not upset. He neither lives in the present nor hopes for the future. He lives in a single moment of his memory, a moment that was idealized and disassociated from his past until it was only a symbol of the life that he never had instead of simply a memory of a day on a jetty.

When the man visits the woman of his past, she does not fascinate him because he loves her, but because she is the personification of his memory, of the image which haunts him. He saw the woman for the first time when he was a young boy and therefore he does not love the woman. He advanced in age since he was a boy but the image of the woman was without age. She was the incarnation of his unrealizable hopes. When that woman was in the bed, he seemed near to his ideal, imagined life. He knew that the life was a dream because his abductors had a complete control over his life, but when he saw the woman on the bed it was too powerful an image. He fell into a profound fascination of the woman, of his memory and of his hopes. For the entirety of his adult life, only the image of the woman and the memory of the jetty were real. He suspended the reality of his life and entered a world where his vivid memories were juxtaposed with a perfect life. It was unreal but it seemed at that moment more real than his life under his abductors. The power of his memories made his experience with the woman seem hyperreal.

La Jetée est l’histoire d’un homme qui s’acharne sur un image de son passé. Il réprime tous ses autres souvenirs et vit une vie détachée, comme si le monde entière soit un rêve et l’image dans son souvenir soit la seule réalité. L’homme a un souvenir si puissant que il peut vivre dans le monde du souvenir et échappe sa vie quotidienne.

Dans la film, nous voyons l’histoire de un homme qui est obsédé par un souvenir d’une image de sa enfance—d’une jetée et d’un homme qui mort, et surtout de la visage d’une femme. Comme adulte, l’homme a combattu dans la Troisième Guerre mondiale et son seul souvenir de la paix, du temps avant la guerre, est son souvenir de cela moment dans la jetée. Il a affronté les réalités brutales de la guerre et après la guerre, une terrible existence souterraine pendant un hiver nucléaire. Pour échapper sa vie, il s’est accroché à son souvenir de la visage de la femme. Il n’a connu pas la femme, et il n’a su pas si son souvenir était vrai, si la visage a correspondu à une femme vraie ; il a su seulement la visage de son souvenir. Il s’acharnait sur la visage pendant la jour, et il rêvait de la visage pendant la nuit.

Le film entier est un montage de photos, sauf un plan très bref. Parce que il n’y a pas de motion, les scènes semble surréel comme dans un rêve, comme on n’est pas vraiment là. La première et la dernière scènes de la film, sur la jetée, a une bande son réaliste : on écoute les avions, les personnes, etc. Ces scènes sont la plus réaliste de la film. La première scène sur la jetée est un souvenir vif. Dans la dernière scène, l’homme revive son souvenir vif. Dans toutes les autres scènes de la film, la bande son ne reflète pas ce qui on écouterait si on soit là.

Quelque fois, il n’y a pas de bande son sauf la narration. Pendant les expériences, on écoute les ravisseurs marmonnent, mais on n’écoute pas de bruit d’arrière-plan. Dans ces scènes, la bande son a trop peu son. Il y a une intuition qu’on regarde un souvenir de quelqu’un où la personne souviens seulement une image, ou une image et le son effrayant des ravisseurs, mais il a oublié les sons quotidiens et inintéressants.

Dans la scène avec la femme au lit, la bande son a trop de son pour être réaliste. En première, la bande son semble être des oiseaux chantants mais après quelque secondes, la son grandit à un bruit chaotique qui ne ressemble pas à des oiseaux. Les photos changent plus fréquemment pour un effet qui ressemble motion. Enfin, il y a un bref plan avec vidéo. Le vidéo et le son excessif dénote un moment remarquable dans la film : l’homme éprouve son souvenir qui était sa manie, son espoir réprimé d’une vie paisible et contente, et ses expériences merveilleux dans un temps étranger, une juxtaposition si puissant que le moment semble pour lui plus réel que sa vie quotidienne. Il expérimente, en effet, l’hyperréalité : un moment qui est plus réel que la réalité elle-même.

La plupart de la film consiste en photos qui donnent les scènes une impression détachée. Ainsi, dans les scènes dans le passé, ses souvenirs semblent imparfaits, comme si il se souvenir de seulement les moments de son passé qui était les plus frappants. Mais nous regardons la présent dans la même façon ; en raison de sa vie difficile et sans joie, il est devenu détachée de sa vie. Quand ses ravisseurs il prennent pour mener une expérience, il n’y a pas d’objection. Quand il est lâché après les expériences, il sais que ils il tueront mais il n’est pas inquiété. Il ni vit dans la présent ni espère pour la futur. Il vit dans un seule moment de son souvenir, un moment qui était idéalisé et dissocié de son passé jusque il était seulement un symbole de la vie que il n’a jamais eu plutôt que simplement un souvenir d’un jour sur une jetée.

Quand l’homme visite la femme de son passé, elle il ne fascine pas parce que il elle aime mais parce que elle est la personnification de son souvenir, de l’image qui il obsède. Il a vu la femme pour la première fois quand il était un jeune garçon et alors il ne aime pas la femme. Il a avancé en âge depuis il était un garçon mais l’image de la femme était sans âge. Elle était l’incarnation de ses espoirs irréalisables. Quand la femme était au lit, il a semblé près de sa vie idéale et imaginé. Il savait que la vie était un rêve parce que ses ravisseurs a eu un contrôle complet de sa vie, mais quand il a vu la femme au lit il était un image trop puissant. Il est tombé dans une fascination profond de la femme, de son souvenir et de ses espoirs. Pour l’entièreté de sa vie adulte, seulement l’image de la femme et la souvenir de la jetée était réel. Il a suspendu la réalité de sa vie et est entré un monde où ses souvenirs vifs était juxtaposé avec une vie parfaite. Il était irréel mais il a semblé à ça moment plus réel que sa vie au-dessous ses ravisseurs. La pouvoir de ses souvenirs a donné sa expérience avec la femme un semblant hyperréel.

A Calvary Chapel heretic

Monday, 20 April 2009

Note: I wrote this post in April 2009. I left Calvary Chapel a few months later and became Catholic on 3 April 2010. See the series of posts starting here for why I became Catholic. I don’t necessarily hold the views expressed in this post anymore (at least, not all of them).

I currently attend church at the Calvary Chapel in Newport News. Calvary Chapel is a family of churches (they inexplicably refuse to be called a denomination) that promotes the sort of doctrines and interpretations of the Bible that you would expect of an American conservative Protestant church. They are probably a bit more charismatic than most churches, and so put more emphasis on the gifts of the Holy Spirit, including the miraculous gifts. But by and large, the teachings you can hear from the pulpit of a Calvary Chapel will agree substantially with any number of other conservative Protestant churches.

Of course, I tend to agree with many of the views of the typical conservative Protestant church, and of my church in particular. If I didn’t, I would attend church somewhere else. But over the last several months, I’ve had a growing discontent with my church and my own beliefs. If you’ll excuse the pop culture reference (I’ll try to keep them to a minimum), I feel like Neo while he was still trapped in the Matrix: as if there’s something wrong but you can’t put your finger on what it is, as if there’s a higher truth right in front of you that you can’t quite see.

I’ve been learning about Catholicism in an attempt to see if there’s something they have that Protestants somehow forgot, some truth that got thrown by the wayside in the name of the Protestant Reformation. I’ve also started to look into the various other Christian churches, trying to piece together the full spectrum of the “Catholic” (i.e. universal) Christian Church. Studying this involves reading a fair amount about church history and doctrine, and I have not yet read enough to offer any particular insight at this time. But if you think about it, it seems almost certain that there are aspects to God and his relationship with us that are not fully explained by mainstream conservative American Protestant Christianity, a subset of the Christian Church which in my experience tends to forget that there are other branches of the one Church founded by Jesus himself.

Let me be clear about one thing: I fully believe in the triune God of the Bible (although the concept of the Trinity was made explicit only after the Bible was written), that Christianity is the one true religion and that Jesus is the only way to God. As far as I can remember, I have never doubted this. From time to time, I may question certain points of theology, or particular interpretations of the Bible, but I will never deny the fundamentals of the Christian faith. I hope above all else that I will be one of those who is “invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb” (Revelation 19:9), and I believe that through the death and resurrection of Jesus and by the grace of God, I will be on the guest list.

That said, I have on multiple occasions heard teachings in my current church that I disagree with. I hesitate to say anything that could be taken as criticism of my pastor (Tony Clark), mainly because I am wary of criticizing the Lord’s anointed leader of my church (cf. 1 Samuel 26:9 and Acts 23:3–5). I can see that God is working through my church and my pastor, and that my church has that life given by God which is all too hard to find in many churches. So I do not at all mean that my church is on the wrong path in general terms, or that Pastor Tony is misleading people in any serious way. But some of the teachings I hear in this church only contribute to my sense that I don’t quite believe the same things that the majority of the church accepts.

Today this sense was more acute than ever before. This morning, Pastor Tony started teaching through the book of Genesis, starting naturally enough in chapter one. We were a mere four words into the first verse, “In the beginning, God,” when he declared that these words disprove evolution. The reasoning goes like this: God existed from the beginning, so he is qualified to tell us what happened since no one else was there at the time, except apparently the angels. Because no human was there to observe what was happening, scientific theories on the origin of life and the universe are therefore necessarily incorrect.

This is, of course, a common argument among Young Earth creationists. Never mind the confusion between the Big Bang theory and the theory of evolution, which are separate theories but usually tied together in the minds of these creationists. Also, I am not going to argue for or against evolution here. (Actually, I never even took a real biology class in high school or college, so I feel particularly unqualified to discuss the merits of any theory in biology.) But to claim that science can offer no insight into the history of the universe simply because no one was there betrays a fundamental lack of understanding of the nature of science.

Few people will question scientific data such as the diameter of our galaxy (100,000 light years). Who is at the other end of the galaxy holding a tape measure? Why, if it is acceptable to determine such distances through indirect means, is it not acceptable to apply the laws of physics to the current state of the universe and extrapolate backwards?

The real point of disagreement between science and Young Earth creationism, of course, is that if you believe that the universe was created in six literal days a few thousand years ago, you will simply reject all scientific claims to the contrary on the basis of faith. This is fine, but if you take this position, it is futile to attack scientific theories that require the universe to be older. You do not, after all, base your beliefs of the history of the universe on science, so what difference does it make if science comes to a different conclusion than you do?

All throughout the sermon this morning, the pastor ridiculed scientific theories, throwing out naive claims about the unreliability of scientific data. Multiple people in the congregation vocally agreed with his jabs at science, edging the congregation toward a level of excitement rarely seen when listening to a sermon on any topic. Is this what conservative Christianity has become? Does everyone show up in church just to hear what their “itching ears want to hear” (2 Timothy 4:3)? Is the church more about solidarity than seeking out the truth of God, no matter how inconvenient it is to reconcile it with our preconceived notions?

I believe that God gave us minds and the curiosity to understand how the universe works for a reason. I also believe in the value of science to describe the natural world (that is, the world excluding any supernatural phenomena or influences). This should come as no surprise, considering that I am working on a master’s degree in physics. My pastor, if today’s sermon is any indication, never studied science to any serious extent. I am quite content to let my pastor report his research in his area of expertise, which is the Bible. He can quote thousands upon thousands of verses from all over the Bible. At one time, I think he was well on his way to memorizing the Bible. But I do not go to my dentist for advice on my finances; in the same vein, I do not ask my pastor to provide his opinions on science.

This is somewhat of an aside, but just for the record, I believe that the universe is some 13 or 14 billion years old. I have heard the Biblical arguments against this (many times), and I reject them. I still believe that the Bible is true, and if you are interested, I will tell you my interpretation of the first couple chapters of Genesis.

My main problem with my pastor advocating Young Earth creationism, other than his unnecessary attacks on science from this morning, is not that he interprets the Bible differently than I do. Instead, I get the impression that he simply dismisses any other interpretation of the first two chapters of the Bible out of hand. It is a dangerous thing to assume that your interpretation of the Bible is absolutely correct, that anyone who disagrees with you is gravely mistaken. The Bible itself is truth and speaks with the authority of God, but any human’s attempt to understand what the Bible says is certain to be incomplete at best.

I have on occasion toyed with the idea of finding a new church, but I have decided to stay at my current church for this reason: I believe it’s important to discuss the Bible and theology with people who do not fully agree with your own viewpoints. To quote my friend Steve Goss, “conservative Christianity has a particular interpretation of scripture that is very interconnected and internally coherent.” That doesn’t mean that it’s correct. We must agree on the fundamental teachings of Christianity (Jesus’ death and resurrection, our inability to save ourselves, etc.), but we should be willing to discuss some of the more peripheral contemporary beliefs and consider the possibility that we have been mistaken. And so I will remain at my church, a heretic of sorts, promoting discussions and suggesting that the mainstream viewpoint may be wrong.

I certainly have not figured everything out, and much of my own theology is ill-defined at the moment, pending my investigation into other Christian beliefs and traditions. But may God protect all of us from complacency and from the belief that we have already attained a complete knowledge of God and of his word.

The time has come

Sunday, 19 April 2009

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,      “To talk of many things: Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—      Of cabbages—and kings— And why the sea is boiling hot—      And whether pigs have wings.”

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have a blog now. I intend to post to it on an erratic and unpredictable schedule. I’ll probably tweak the formatting and colors of this page some, but in the meantime, I will merely point out that the bluish gray color in the background is my favorite color.

By the way, if anyone is wondering, that quote is from a poem named The Walrus and the Carpenter, from Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll.