Who Shot Mr. MacGuffin?

The MacGuffin is that ellusive plot element in film that impels the story toward its culminating purpose. In many cases the MacGuffin is completely insubstantial. For instance, the green light emanating from the briefcase in Pulp Fiction. That specific element is also called Agalma (in philosophy) or even the Objet Petit-a (in psychology). Other examples include Rosebud in Citizen Kane and the monster in Cloverfield. Sometimes the MacGuffin plays a huge role in the film as a means to distract the audience from realizing that they are becoming emotionally involved in the development of the characters they are observing, and in the end the MacGuffin loses meaning or is cast aside, if not completely forgotten. Take for instance Solomon's diamond in Blood Diamond. The coveted jewel is all but denounced, thus creating the same emotion for the audience that exists inside the main character: regret for ever having cared.

On some occasions the MacGuffin is apparent and despite any obstacle or trial will be satisfied in the end, like in the film Children of Men. In this film the MacGuffin is satisfied even though it means a tragic end for characters we've come to care about. In the Mel Brook's classic High Anxiety, Mel makes fun of the MacGuffin by depicting a mysterious phone call from one Mr. MacGuffin. What I'm leading up to here is the recent atmospheric change in the film industry in relation to the MacGuffin. Personally, I blame Eli Roth. Were it not for his approach to horror film as a main character aggrandizing heyday to take out on the bad guys that which we've spent years building up in our cinematic minds (I heart Eli Roth) then Quentin Tarantino would never have caught wind of the notion and perfected it. First, Death Proof. We all know this was the film that Quentin and Eli really got their balls out on and made the decision to go for it. Don't get me wrong, a lot of Eli's content is crap. It’s his approach I respect.

Now folks, I give you Inglourious Basterds: A superbly told fairy tale in the highest regard. **SPOILER ALERT** The MacGuffin is the violence, and it is constantly dangled before us like it were a piece of bloody meat and we are famished wolves, but never withheld eternally. Each act leading to higher and HIGHER climax until our desire is finally fulfilled to its utmost extreme. So I ask again... who shot Mr. MacGuffin? Eli Roth did*. He shot his fucking face right off his fucking head.

I'd like to take a brief moment to warn you all about an upcoming review I intend to do (after I watch the film) of the movie Antichrist, starring Willem Dafoe. Its a movie I've been looking forward to seeing for some time. When I saw the trailor I felt the intensity, and yes, unabashed violence made it worth a watch for me. Not to mention I consider director Lars von Trier a respectable filmmaker and tend to follow his work.** I guess the reason I feel the need to warn you is because I don't know if I will come back from this expedition or in what form.*** Two dear friends of mine, both full grown males straight up and down, watched it and were by their own assertion "permanently traumatized". One of them, a self made horror movie connoisseur, actually had to close his eyes during some parts. They're probably overreacting. Probably. They called it "gratuity for gratuity's sake". But I find it hard to believe that Mr. Dafoe would partake in a film that had no theme or purpose.**** So, as I set out on this perilous journey I hope that I will return to you in one peice and capable of reporting my findings. And if I do not return remember me, but ah! forget my fate.

* Well, Quentin did too, indirectly.

** When it doesn't suck.

*** Wishful thinking. :)

**** Mr. Bean's Holiday!!

Looking For Dick in the Dark: A final analysis of Dating in the Dark Season 1

I've said before that relationships are a mutual delusion. And now even as I consider being deluded, I can't help but investigate that fact. Slovaj Zizek says that the ego and super ego are constantly occupied with pre-registered fantasies (that are arguably masculine in nature, but that’s a topic for another day). Zizek goes on to say that each time you engage in an act of sex or romance, you aren't really thinking about the partner you are with but rather how that person quantitates to your own fantasy. You're never really seeing each other; you're only seeing what you want. Which, on that token, I think we can all agree is a narcissistic image of ourselves. So in the same way that a man is never really fully considering the partner he is with while in the act of sex, but instead imagining to the best of his ability his supreme sexual fantasy, women equally delude themselves into believing their partner to be the archetype fantasy they've created in their mind, oftentimes more sensitive and attentive than their partner actually is. The defining difference between these two perceptions, male and female, is that the man focuses on the fantasy at hand while in the act, and the woman focuses on the fantasy that will be, or the story that she'll tell (herself or others) later in a past tense. She fills in the holes of her sensory experience with tenderness and emotion that likely didn't exist at all and make them the focus of the future reverie. In many ways it’s hard to decide which side is worse. While the man has defaced his partner as a purely sexual masturbatory prop, the woman has built an entirely fabricated partner out of the parts she's been given.

Now shut off the lights.

The sensory experience is changed somewhat. Ideally, two people will go into a dark room and be forced to get to know each other for who they truly are. Obviously that’s ridiculous. There is still an entire societally-driven hierarchy of delusions pushing each and every action our two blind players make. I mean for christsake, these are the kind of people that would go on a dating show. But let’s just ignore all that for a moment. Let’s consider also, for just a moment, that Freud was right and that it really is all about the DICK. The ladies are just aching to creep up on one, and the men are just thrilled to put theirs to use. But more specifically, lets employ Jacque Lacan's re-interpretation of Freudian psychology and assert that it’s really more about the word DICK, or the preconceived notion of the DICK. See, Lacan believed that the real divider was language. The unconscious is language and the structure therein. That makes it very difficult for us to conceive any sort of tacit knowledge. Difficult, but not impossible. So here we are, two people in the dark, with every intention of romance. No way to intuitively familiarize yourself with the essence of the person you're with via language, since we know that’s just a handicap anyway. Besides, in the first three days of knowing a person, you're not really telling them anything about yourself. You've just been talking about your ego, ground floor of the Bates Motel, everything you're willing to let someone see. No way to apprise the other person with your characteristic quirks, the little things that make you you, like facial expressions or gesticulation. Those little things that, BTW, offer a contrast for the person’s sincerity and can make a smooth talker a transparent liar or a shy geek an endearing sweetheart. The only real sense you have to work with now is your sense of smell and touch, a purely primordial approach to dating. I suspect if these senses get worked appropriately then the conversation will flow "naturally" and everything will click. Now what we have is real. We've stripped away all the bullshit. Because, truly, in the end, it’s all about the smell and the taste. I mean think about it. How many people do you know that put up with a whole lot of shit from their partner for seemingly no reason? Why? You can't fight pheromones.

Now turn the lights back on.

Reality comes crumbling down as our contestants re-insert their pre-conceived ideals into the experience. My theory is that this is why we so often come to the end of the program with the same result. The man struggles momentarily with his decision to go meet his pick on the balcony, but he does it in the end. The woman seems to know right away she ain't going out there. Why is this? Because the male delusion, while superficial in many ways, is much more flexible than the female delusion. Everything is riding on this for her. For a man, the only thing riding on this is his DICK.

Throttle it back...*

*Throttle it back?

Owls. What, pretending to be wolves?

Avis' description of our respective roles (plight in my case) is pretty spot on. And what with being the logical one (Vulcan), I tend to get a little confused when it comes to the ways of the heart. I will indeed confess my own schema, on this very public forum, in an effort to relate my own experience to our readers (of the future)*. I have what you (Oprah) call "Defectiveness/Shame Schema" (Unlovability). It has to do with vulnerability and childhood trauma and blah, blah, blah... I tell ya... I couldn't get through the book that Avis (bless her heart) gave me, Emotional Alchemy, which was supposed to teach me to evaluate my emotions without acting on them and thus grow beyond my perpetuating trauma. I got bored (scared) and put it away. One thing that I have come to know to be true in regard to me and love... I am constitutionally incapable of being right. Whatever the question is my answer is wrong, which, some could attest, is quite strange for me. Is it because I dissect everything down into meaningless bits? Is it because I re-interpret everything a million ways until I find a way to turn it against myself? Perhaps it’s my obsessive, mad scientist approach to matters that drives me so far from understanding.

I think that there are certain irreducible truths that most people are only ever occasionally intuitively aware of. I aim to understand these things implicitly and one day communicate them to others. But recent events have forced me to admit that my previous conclusions may not have been correct. For instance, the afore-mentioned concept of the NPC… Now we all know what an NPC is I'm sure, but just in case a layman happens upon this blog, it stands for Non-Player Character. In RPGs (Role Playing Games) it refers to the pre-designed, computer-manned characters that are not capable of breaking out of their programming. Many times I have used this term to refer to the Big 90 (90% of the population) who meets this classification. It seems derogatory, but it’s really meant to make me feel better. It's not that they won't... it's that they can't. But what with the state of my own personal evolution as well as the state of our current understanding of A.I. technology and the possibilities therein, I don't know that it’s fair to suggest that this massive chunk of the world is INCAPABLE of moving beyond their programming. Slower, maybe. And while I've fancied myself a pretty advanced student in many realms of philosophy, I think I’ve got a lot of growing up to do when it comes to that silly little thing—I used to deem it “co-operative mass and individual delusion”—romance**.

Now I've never been an optimist, so I'll leave you now with something to muse. WOULD YOU RATHER... live in a world full of people incapable of learning and self-actualization, OR live in a world full of people who'd just rather not?

*Travelers of the past!

**Puke. Puke. Vomit. Puke.

God & Guns

Mab and I aren’t typical females. Really we aren’t typical humans, if you want to get technical about it. Her specialization is logic; she assails you, impales you with monster truck force. My forte is emotion and the understanding and communication thereof. Although I am quite a reasonable young lass, and she quite emotional, we accept our roles as the human embodiments of reason and intuition, respectively.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my many years of experience, it’s that human emotion is complex and indiscriminate. Females have long been assigned the title of the emotional sex, and we (yeah, yeah) are often the subject of ridicule for our (let’s just call it) self-expression—often deservedly so. But I think we can all agree—it is 2009 after all—that men are equally emotional, albeit generally less inclined to discuss the matter. None of us beings are exempt from that harsh truth.*

So here we are at this time in history with our human brain computers, input to be processed, output—our proclivity for language and communication (truly a boon in the history of human existence), our complex emotions, and at least two different kinds of genitals. I’m certain we agree thus far, but here is where things get more complicated. I believe we (humans) process information mostly in the same ways, even though we have unique experiences with which to build our personalities and behaviors. That is assuming we are actively participating in the processing of information (i.e. learning).**

Back to the subject at hand (for those of us who can learn), we now must agree that communication is a rather complicated tool. I mean we’re smart, right? Can it really be that hard? But we’re all prone to our individual perceptions which are often colored by our pervasive emotions. This natural breakdown leads to mistakes, miscommunications, frustrations, hearts broken for no reason at all, or the feeling that you're being eaten alive.

And now, finally, for the truth of the matter at hand: you and I, in our attempts at communication, are deeply influenced by our prior experiences. For example, my parents were generally busy, self-involved, or otherwise preoccupied during the course of my childhood. I essentially raised myself. As a child, I felt a deep sense of rejection and perhaps bereavement, in a way. I was alone, and my needs—although expressed—went unmet. As a result, I learned that I should be independent and not bother expressing my needs and desires. Ultimately, I have a tendency to become attracted to individuals whom are emotionally unavailable. As it turns out, humans have a psychological tendency to try and re-live painful or traumatic childhood experiences with the hope of eventually having a different outcome, thereby undoing damage done. Crazy, I know. (These tendencies are called Schemata***, and they vary from person to person.) My own schema is known as Deprivation Schema; a child deprived of attention, affection, acknowledgement becomes accustomed to these things, but is also consistently looking for a different outcome. In a manner of speaking, we all suffer from Battered Wife (or Eoin) Syndrome. I can offer discourse on these matters unabashedly, because I have come to understand them about myself and how they influence my thoughts, actions, and reactions. And in understanding that, I can recognize when I have a real, viable connection with someone, regardless of if that person is emotionally available or not. You have your own schema(ta) after all. So be it.

My dear Mab, in her response to this discussion, might experience some catharsis in unveiling her own schema, so I won’t use her (or you, my friend) as an example.

Sometimes the things we cling to for protection, little children that we are, become the things that hold us back in the long run.

*I herewith re-label the term “girl tricks” to “people tricks.”

**I will say that I think there are certain categories that we humans fall into; Mab previously mentioned NPC’s, a term we use affectionately for folks without souls (in other words, those who don’t seem to have the capacity for Meta-ethics—refer to future posts from Mab). We also call them first-timers. Asian girl who no longer likes the beach because you buried your grapes in the sand and somebody stole them… I’m talking about you.

***In my research, I discovered that Oprah Winfrey offers a quiz that can determine your schema. How convenient!

IF SHE DID NOT EXIST WE WOULD HAVE TO INVENT HER

Promethea: Issue #1 August 1999
The Radiant Heavenly City

Created By: Alan Moore and J.H. Williams III with Mick Gray
Writen By: Alan Moore
Penciled By: J.H. Williams
Color and Ink By: Mick Gray and Todd Klein
Publisher: America's Best Comics

Promethea is a metafictional fantasy about a debatabley (because the back story indicates the fictional character arrived in literature basically out of nowhere in the 1700s) ancient goddess who inhabits the bodies of humans via the mechanism of the written language over several generations giving them her god-like powers. Now, I pretty much never like metafiction. I like the concept of it; it’s paradoxical and complex. Yet somehow the eloquence always evades me. Unfortunately, at a young age The Never Ending Story pretty much ruined me on the concept. (Go back and watch that movie now that you're grown, and tell me if it makes any sense to you). The series is 32 issues long and is said to explore concepts not often touched upon in the graphic novel industry, which, along with my kismet introduction to the book, is what sold me on it. Later throughout the series we'll see such concepts as the Apocalypse, the Qabbalistic Tree of Life, transcendentalism, and (more subtly) post-structuralist feminist theory or Écriture féminine (believe it or not).

In the first issue we are introduced to the main character Sophie Bangs and her best friend Stacia. I appreciated the rapport they held with each other; it was playful and realistic. The first issue very quickly throws us into the world of Promethea via flashbacks to a theoretical origin of Promethea, as well as Sophie's initiation as the new host of Promethea's essence. The setting is an alternate reality/futuristic type city referred to as The Radiant Heavenly City, with flying saucer police cars and the Five Swell Guys superhero team on call as an ever present sense of Moore-ian social commentary, ala Watchmen.

I felt the illustrations overall were great. I liked the colors and texture just fine. But best of all (for a geek like me anyway) for 1999 it was probably one of the least predictable comic books as far as framing and arrangements go. There is a lot of symbolism in the arrangements alone that I think adds a depth to the comic book that would be noticeably missed without it. Take for instance a two page spread of Barbara Shelley's (the previous Promethea host) apartment in which the building creates an outer framing for the scene where Sophie inquires, for her term paper, about Barbara's late husband who had been the writer of the most recent Promethea-related comic book. The image unfolds a timeline for the entire interaction while also portraying a mirror like quality. I think the imagery suggests that upon Sophie's introduction to this woman, which is seemingly fruitless, she has transcended into a new existence.

The storyline itself, I felt, was a little weak in this first issue. That could be because it was all set-up and no real plot. And on that token, it could be a good thing for future issues that the reader was rushed so fervently into the concept. Were it not for the 2 page back story at the end of the issue, I might have been disappointed. But I think good things will come from this series as I move forward.

The Grading Scale will hereafter proceed as follows.

Overall Story (per issue): 6 out of 10 points
Back Story Development: 10 out of 10 points
Character Development: 6 out of 10 points
Illustration and Framing: 8 out of 10 points
Cover Art: 7 out of 10 points

2 bonus points for the Star Ocean ad at the end. ( I need a copy of that game).

Overall that gives it a C+, which is a modest score, but I'm optimistic about what's to come. For those who would like to read along with me but don't want to buy the entire series you can download it (illegally) on www.scrapetorrent.com.

Through the Looking Glass

If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?