Word: mute
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...been as clamorous as a scream in such films as The Hour of the Wolf and Shame. With The Passion of Anna the Lord takes discernible form. "This time," the narrator declares, "his name was Andreas." But given the trappings of speech and senses, the earthly incarnation remains spiritually mute...
...Agnon; of cancer; in Stockholm. Daughter of a wealthy Berlin manufacturer, she might have passed her life as a dabbler in the arts except for the Nazis. They forced her to flee to Sweden in 1940, and the experience turned her into a serious poet. "Writing was my mute outcry," she once said, and in her six slim volumes she evoked the tragedy of the Jewish people with what the Nobel committee termed "lyrical laments of painful beauty." Her style was unrhymed, psalmlike, rich in symbolism and metaphor, as in O the chimneys...
Raunchy Liturgy. For years, Godard's films have been essentially free-association essays. Recently he has become less interested in culture than in politics. Films like Le Gai Savoir, for example, are basically director's monologues, with actors as mouthpieces and the audience made mute witness to sometimes incoherent polemics. Sympathy for the Devil is a kind of transitional work, an attempt, albeit unsuccessful, to blend aesthetics and revolutionary politics. Unfortunately, Godard's symbolism is shopworn. The automobile graveyard as a symbol of Decadent Culture is as much a cliche of the New Cinema as riding...
...walk out exclaiming, "It's been done to me!" But what? Did we see the garden of Eden a new? Death anew? Did we see anything? These plays, which are finally mute gestures, appropriately leave it all an Open Question. But at any rate take an hour-and-a-half to see any one of these plays (preferably Serpent ). They are political only by a broad stretch of the imagination, but they do stretch the imagination...
...sensitive man can only say: "If I scream, you will say that I am barbarous; If I whisper, you will not hear me; If I speak normally, you will say that I am indifferent." A great poem, a Vietnam headline, a back-page conundrum all appear the same- mute and urgent; just as a general, a soldier- killing or being killed- and a huckster are all the same size, volume, and duration on television, that magnificent annihilator of moral distinction, which cuts us even as we ignore it. We consume our words, our dead and dying, with equal voracity, equal...