Word: epigraphs
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Manifestly, Ginsberg intends his static film to be a set of X rays. Instead it is only a suite of poses. Even the nude sex scenes are filmed in a chiaroscuro that shows far more scuro than chiaro. As does the script. Ginsberg begins with a Pascal epigraph, but on his own he produces bromides: "Why am I telling you all this?"; "I hate men, they degrade you for being a female"; "I crave nothingness . . . not to die, to live! To become! To find myself!" The stars complement the dialogue. The shrink should be dosed with adrenaline; Torn plays...
This thesis makes relevant all of Fowles' seemingly disjointed literary games, documentary digressions and attempts to make the Victorian past appear imminent to our present. In a cunningly oblique way, the whole novel employs an old-fashioned method to draw a timeless moral. As Fowles' epigraph from Marx puts it: "Every emancipation is a restoration of the human world and of human relationships to man himself...
...experience . . . fitfully glimpsed, inadequately expounded but ever present," Muggeridge vainly invokes Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, Blake and Bunyan, St. Augustine and Simone Weil. We respect but may not share his feeling that Christ himself once was with him and the BBC television crew on the road to Emmaus. His epigraph from George Herbert perhaps speaks most adequately for him: "O that Thou shouldst give dust a tongue to crie to Thee...
...fantasy. For the Romancer it's a terrifying land, more real than real, full of wind-smooth souls and forces which nudge us through life. "Sleeping or waking, we hear not the airy footsteps of the strange things that almost happen," wrote Nathaniel Hawthorne. Or, to quote Hunter's epigraph for Desire: "In the vocabulary of the sub-conscious there is a word for every shape and sound that goes unnoticed in passing time. Though we will never speak them, these words define our souls." Desire tries to lure those mysteries, words and footsteps, into the dusty ranges...
...part of the plan. Remember the epigraph: the never spoken words which define our souls. Desire attempts to chart Anastasia Vote's soul, and it must push us into mystery. Avoiding blatant tricks which we can reject as technological fantasy, Hunter mixes a plot to demolish the narrative and its constriction of imagination. He establishes several movements of time to confound each other and us. He builds and then destroys emotions so that just one impression lingers--the silence and unfathomable expression of that strange girl. Who is she? What is the news of this exploration into Romance, into...