THE WIND WILL CARRY US
A commentary (pre-critique)
A commentary (pre-critique)
FIRST
December 15, 2008
I sat on a dark aisle waiting for the medical results. The streets hummed with the buzzing bees, the color of the nights exploded, and in every moment I regret the sudden passage of the wind. I whispered quietly in still air: "I should have stopped myself."
--------Fifteenth of December
I stood still on MINISTOP KATIPUNAN waiting for K. I was filled with hope yet fixated with terrible apprehension for I haven't met someone like this for almost three years. I recalled the last time I had an 'eyeball' with a text mate, Jocelyn. It was monumental that time because I did it after I gave the valedictory address. I send a text message to Jocelyn that Blainnard Daemiaz (the anagram of my name) stood in front of the graduating class of 2006 and gave the unfaltering speech about pursuing one's ultimate dream. Surprised, she approached me to shake my hand and congratulated me for being the class valedictorian of 2006. Her faced was bruised with sentimentalism and was flattered with an ardent smile, that of a dove, but simply curved on the left of her cheeks.
I smiled back, and I heard her talked but the sounds deafen my ears. The spotlight illuminated my skin like a lamb, and everything ended there. After that, we never talked. We never heard of each others words. We never sent text messages.
My cell phone went dead for three years. I heard that she's in Singapore studying on a local university, I’m not sure if NUS.
I have lost faith in forming relationships via technological tools such as cell phone and chat rooms. I bade goodbye to my teenage years and welcomed adulthood with a blast.
On my eighteenth birthday, I had a big party of about thirty people frolicking in and out of the Molave shed, drinking wine not beer(for I absolutely believe that wine is most proper in my-coming-of-age party), eating chocolate cake and munching white spaghetti. After that, I busied myself with almost everything related to my whole new world: the University. I went to plays, indie film showings, parades, cross-dressing pageants, company talks, lectures of renowned scientists, economist and writers; joined the welcoming of a Nobel prize laureate; drank a bottle of vodka with my best friend which my dad found out; argued with most of my colleagues about the effects of pornography; glorified philosophy and met a philosopher; made a sarimanok costume; joined three organizations but failed one; organized a corridor display; and failed a major subject. I have set limitations but learned that no such limitations exist. I learned to value failure, independence and the meaning of forming true friendships and bonds.
I believed that I have grown somewhat better, more controlled, and more mature. My sensibility and sense of being responsible for myself and my fellow friends is most evident. Everything seemed to be okay until that day of December.
I grasped my cell phone tight and hoped it would malfunction when K arrived. K walked past the entrance of the shop. I knew it was K, pale, thin and peaceful looking. I plunged into the Katipunan sidewalk. Dirt and a whipped of mechanical smoke dashed my brown skin. K smiled at me, and I introduced myself. K carried a violin and offered it to me and asked if I could carry it. K was a bit nervous; I could see it in the dark set eyes, the whimsical and mysterious circular halo filled with stories unknown to man.
We met and did not stop there. On that cold night before the sun could fleet, K left me the violin and asked for a jacket. I gave K a sweater instead of a jacket for it was the only available one. I seemed to be left with hope, moved by K's offer of keeping the violin. K's taxi reverently strides away from me, and I recalled feeling a deep fainting feeling. But maybe it was just because of the alcohol that we drank earlier.
Tipsy, i went back to Ipil to finished my video. I did not slept after that. (TO BE CONTINUED)
I stood still on MINISTOP KATIPUNAN waiting for K. I was filled with hope yet fixated with terrible apprehension for I haven't met someone like this for almost three years. I recalled the last time I had an 'eyeball' with a text mate, Jocelyn. It was monumental that time because I did it after I gave the valedictory address. I send a text message to Jocelyn that Blainnard Daemiaz (the anagram of my name) stood in front of the graduating class of 2006 and gave the unfaltering speech about pursuing one's ultimate dream. Surprised, she approached me to shake my hand and congratulated me for being the class valedictorian of 2006. Her faced was bruised with sentimentalism and was flattered with an ardent smile, that of a dove, but simply curved on the left of her cheeks.
I smiled back, and I heard her talked but the sounds deafen my ears. The spotlight illuminated my skin like a lamb, and everything ended there. After that, we never talked. We never heard of each others words. We never sent text messages.
My cell phone went dead for three years. I heard that she's in Singapore studying on a local university, I’m not sure if NUS.
I have lost faith in forming relationships via technological tools such as cell phone and chat rooms. I bade goodbye to my teenage years and welcomed adulthood with a blast.
On my eighteenth birthday, I had a big party of about thirty people frolicking in and out of the Molave shed, drinking wine not beer(for I absolutely believe that wine is most proper in my-coming-of-age party), eating chocolate cake and munching white spaghetti. After that, I busied myself with almost everything related to my whole new world: the University. I went to plays, indie film showings, parades, cross-dressing pageants, company talks, lectures of renowned scientists, economist and writers; joined the welcoming of a Nobel prize laureate; drank a bottle of vodka with my best friend which my dad found out; argued with most of my colleagues about the effects of pornography; glorified philosophy and met a philosopher; made a sarimanok costume; joined three organizations but failed one; organized a corridor display; and failed a major subject. I have set limitations but learned that no such limitations exist. I learned to value failure, independence and the meaning of forming true friendships and bonds.
I believed that I have grown somewhat better, more controlled, and more mature. My sensibility and sense of being responsible for myself and my fellow friends is most evident. Everything seemed to be okay until that day of December.
I grasped my cell phone tight and hoped it would malfunction when K arrived. K walked past the entrance of the shop. I knew it was K, pale, thin and peaceful looking. I plunged into the Katipunan sidewalk. Dirt and a whipped of mechanical smoke dashed my brown skin. K smiled at me, and I introduced myself. K carried a violin and offered it to me and asked if I could carry it. K was a bit nervous; I could see it in the dark set eyes, the whimsical and mysterious circular halo filled with stories unknown to man.
We met and did not stop there. On that cold night before the sun could fleet, K left me the violin and asked for a jacket. I gave K a sweater instead of a jacket for it was the only available one. I seemed to be left with hope, moved by K's offer of keeping the violin. K's taxi reverently strides away from me, and I recalled feeling a deep fainting feeling. But maybe it was just because of the alcohol that we drank earlier.
Tipsy, i went back to Ipil to finished my video. I did not slept after that. (TO BE CONTINUED)
THE WIND WILL CARRY US
December 19, 2008
Cinema permits the viewers to experience the darkness of human nature and the ugliness of ordinary life hidden beneath the subtleness of time. sex, violence, aberrant and criminal behavior are things the viewers permit themselves to witness - we derive pleasure from these experiences. (PRINCE, 2001) This perspective on cinema stems from a Hitchcockesian belief that "the viewers are like peeping tom able to witness forbidden sights without being held accountable for what is seen and enjoyed." (PRINCE, 2001)
The viewers' role on cinema is essentially voyeuristic, as what Hitchcock believes and is explored in his film, PSYCHO(1969).
What happened in (1997) cannes changed the whole perspective of cinematic viewing, when Kiarostami's A TASTE of Cherry(1997) won Palme D'or(Golden Palm). In contrast to hitchcock's belief, kiarostami's approach to the viewers is profound enough that it launched Iranian cinema to the world. It was as if a new global wave swiped cultures with Kiarostami's masterpiece, A TASTE OF CHERRY(1997) as he explored topics such as existence, death and the dichotomy of good and evil with a fresher, more revitalize concrete portrayal.
The viewers' role on cinema is essentially voyeuristic, as what Hitchcock believes and is explored in his film, PSYCHO(1969).
What happened in (1997) cannes changed the whole perspective of cinematic viewing, when Kiarostami's A TASTE of Cherry(1997) won Palme D'or(Golden Palm). In contrast to hitchcock's belief, kiarostami's approach to the viewers is profound enough that it launched Iranian cinema to the world. It was as if a new global wave swiped cultures with Kiarostami's masterpiece, A TASTE OF CHERRY(1997) as he explored topics such as existence, death and the dichotomy of good and evil with a fresher, more revitalize concrete portrayal.
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Connecting with the world.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Two years later, another masterpiece revered Kiarostami and placed him in line with the master of cinema adjacent to Hitchcock and Kurosawa with his dazzling new technique of handling the dark auditorium theater. THE WIND WILL CARRY US (1999) have taken the role of audience from mere witnesses of moving pictures to a self-reflective individual in which the subconscious is highly affected.
THE WIND WILL CARRY US(1999) took, by surprise, the majestic themes of modernism. the film discusses how technology and communication can truly affect our lives. it let us reflect the value of physical alienation and its effects to finding the purpose.
THE WIND WILL CARRY US(1999) took, by surprise, the majestic themes of modernism. the film discusses how technology and communication can truly affect our lives. it let us reflect the value of physical alienation and its effects to finding the purpose.
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The POEM...
The Wind Will Take Us
In my small night, ah
the wind has a date with the leaves of the trees
in my small night there is agony of destruction
listen
do you hear the darkness blowing?
I look upon this bliss as a stranger
I am addicted to my despair.
listen do you hear the darkness blowing?
something is passing in the night
the moon is restless and red
and over this rooftop
where crumbling is a constant fear
clouds, like a procession of mourners
seem to be waiting for the moment of rain.
a moment
and then nothing
night shudders beyond this window
and the earth winds to a halt
beyond this window
something unknown is watching you and me.
O green from head to foot
place your hands like a burning memory
in my loving hands
give your lips to the caresses
of my loving lips
like the warm perception of being
the wind will take us
the wind will take us.
Forugh Farrokhzad
Translated by Ahmad Karimi Hakkak
The Persian Book Review VOLUME III, NO 12 Page 1337
CLICK HERE!
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Kiarostami sees cinema as a window to the human soul. He explores the idea of man through his prevalent use of symbolism. Though this generality can not stand alone, it is important to subject my criticism from the fundamental elements of film: the shots.
The reception of Kiarostami's film indeed requires critical perception. It hides important elements deep in the subconscious through symbolic and often straightforward representation of themes. The poem in which the film was based formed the structure of the film.
The reception of Kiarostami's film indeed requires critical perception. It hides important elements deep in the subconscious through symbolic and often straightforward representation of themes. The poem in which the film was based formed the structure of the film.
IS this a new cinematic experience?
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Kiarostami's exploration of death.
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The lyrical formal system explored in Kiarostami's THE WIND WILL CARRY US offers new challenges in criticism and film viewing. It jolts the critics with a question: should critics measure these films via the set of rules offered by 'conventional cinema' or should they include the possibility that cinema can substantiate a connection between the viewers subconscious perception?
