But anyway, as this moth stared at myself from its mammalian ledge, I ran towards it, hoping to put a end to this absurdity, and in some small, petty respect, I wished to revenge the damage done to my garments. As I clasped it into my hands, the statuette began to glow a vivacious verdant, and I felt a warm smoke in the air. Suddenly a dissolve of the mind, the liquefaction of perception, and I found myself occupying the body of the vermin hitherto my nemesis.
What had happened was this; the mystical powers of the Perlman Stone (as I later named it) had become reactivated by the moth's metatarsus fondling its pate, and it thusly, in an ode to the '50s B-movie, swapped our bodies around.
So, I was flying about the room in the body of the moth, whilst at the same time I watched the moth jump about in my body. Understandably the first thing it did was run into the strobe-lit en-suite and begin to eat my washcloths. I was only minimally miffed by this ruination in the bathroom, as it allowed me time to gather my thoughts. Exiting the bedroom, I made flight down the staircase, and into the observatory I went.
In here was my maid. She was sprawled on the sofa, legs akimbo. Facing her was a glowing flat-screen, on which the Interpol messages of copyright threat were just ending. Then started a film of some sort. Wishing not to interrupt the maid's watching duties, I took up a position on a nearby hardback copy of Chomsky's Necessary Illusions, and then proceeded to participate in the screening.
The film she was watching was none other than Sympathy for the Devil.
It is indeed a peculiar flick, as you so rightly sketch. Irregular narrative arrangements compositing imagery of The Stones sitting about a studio tweaking and orchestrating, with the radical and anarchical sanctimony of leftist activism; it is difficult to pin down what exactly is the intention here. The apolitical stance of the band only adds to the confusion.
Perhaps it's an amalgamation; the purposeful bringing together of dissimilar, and perchance contrasting, imagery of a time? Certainly the fact that the band reside comfortably insulated from the proletariat theorizing outside leads one to consider this.
Or maybe it's a deliberate juxtaposition of those two opposites? Showcasing the two realities of a time; if one were to wish to simplify an epoch to such an extent.
Article comments
1 - Steve C.
I always knew cinema was a lifeblood of sorts, but I never expected it literally.
Awesome stuff, as always. I'm never quite sure what to make of Godard, but rarely are his films not worth a look at least.
2 - Aaron Fleming
I agree Steve, Godard's films are always at least somewhat interesting, even though some are much better than others; just compare Alphaville with The Riflemen.
And thanks!
3 - Mat Brewster
Should I comment on the cinematic hoo hah or the Fleming moth? Too hard to chooose, so I'll just say I this very noon picked up a copy of Alphaville and look forward to its cinematic graces.
Brillians stuff gents, absolutely brilliant.
4 - Aaron Fleming
Alphaville is genius Mat, you'll love it!
5 - -E
Congrats! This article has been selected as one of this week’s Editors’ Picks.