Vampyr by Carl Dreyer

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One of cinema’s greatest masters, Dreyer could be described as the metaphysician of film.

Some are befuddled by the plot of Vampyr, an avant-garde horror from 1932, but none can question the power of the images.

The themes are, like some of his notable films such as Ordet, the boundaries between life and death in the context of life after death.

Every film student, photographer, set designer and cinematographer should see this film on a big screen if possible.

A garden of consciousness

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I see her approaching
With a glass of cold failure

The sinking sun struggles to promise a tomorrow
No words escape; it even fails to form a face;

Her eyelids though, hold
a murmuring conversation between themselves
As she offers the glass
To my blinking hands.

My lips have sought to be welded to the soft moist ecstasy that are hers,
I cannot surrender to gravity this cup with which I am frozen
Below on the ground, worms thick like slugs but pink wriggle into the earth
With a song of the day the Moon left
To live and orbit Mars.
Not like slugs but like lips,
My lips
I wait for them to crawl up my legs, my body,
To return like the Moon

Outcuts from the Supperstone Adventure

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He didn’t want to say anything to Lily until they were indoors. Even then he wondered how angry to be. He blamed the musician with the sex-smell spray partly. He’d turned her head. One day he’d sit down and write a little treatise: What is the purpose of the conflict between emotion and rational judgment? He’d interview Buckaza, he joked grimly to himself.

But it was no joke. It was all very well for him to take the pulse of people’s mood from his own steely inward looking self or the outgoing Webster or Imamura but these were exceptional people. What of the common human with all their worries in a crisis like this? Who was he to judge? Still Buckaza’s behaviour was as far as Supperstone was concerned unconscionable. It would be the icing on the camel if Buckaza erupted into a zombie. Even better if he grassed on them. Still he’d wait until he got his 500K so perhaps the best thing would be to grass on him first or just lock him up for the duration of their

The feast day of St Francis the poor man of Assisi

These marks of the stigmata (on St Padre Pio) are probably similar to those on St Francis’s hands.

St Francis was a man of peace and we need peace in our times. Our peace is being disturbed by materialism. Nothing is wrong with materialism per se or the pursuit of wealth. But today all of us are bombarded with ideas that make us want more than we need. I make no secret of my wish to be a billionaire. It is very unlikely to happen. I think many people have this dream these days and I feel this was not as strong an aspiration for people once. They were content to aspire to other forms of greatness if they could.

Whichever way we look at it people – all of us – can’t see that there is a metaphysical universe full of untold riches deeper and more meaningful than anything here in this bounded realm. The man of peace St Francis, who had been a rich boy, gave all he had away and took the promise of eternal and lasting riches – the riches of God’s love and eternal life – seriously. He was through the strength of this belief able to work hard at promoting the peace that Christ ushered in.

People find it hard to believe in the spiritual realm and I can accept that. But I wonder if they – we – question enough the ideas we are bombarded with. Adverts in particular have to make promises and sow ideas in our heads. The media is a complex web of ideas but at heart it is funded by the need to make you and me and every body else buy things and want things and that is generally OK but there is a dark side and that dark side is the ideascape of self indulgence and the nexus that stops us bothering to love our friends and neighbours and those who need our love.