Tuesday, November 13, 2007

I have the censored cover of Mantissa. Bummer.

"It's not my fault that I'm equally the programmed slave of whatever stupid mood you've created. Whatever clumsy set of supposed female emotions you've bodged up for me. To say nothing of your character. I notice there's not been a single word about his exceedingly dubious status. I wonder who's pulling his strings?"
"I am. I'm me. Don't be ridiculous."
She gives him a sarcastic little smile, and looks away.
"God, you're so naive."
"You're the one who's naive. I wouldn't tell my own character to suggest I'm not really me."
"Then why's he being referred to as "he" throughout? What are you trying to hide?" (88)

The most interesting aspect of this passage is that the characters are aware that they are in a novel. Around this point they begin to measure actions in lines of the text.

Erato is examining the role of Miles as an author (Wait, didn't we kill him?). In one of her moments of power, she once again attacks Miles for controlling her actions. As the author, he can determine what she wears, he can make cigarettes appear for here, and so on. She acknowledges that she's being jerked around within the text, yet Miles is a character just as much as she is.

There is no first person here, but Miles still assumes the position of creator of the text. "I'm me." Without his brain functioning, the text can't continue. But what IS pulling his strings? There seems to be a distinction between Miles continuing the novel, and Miles within the novel. There are a few points (one being when Erato erases the door) that Miles is not in control of where the text is going.

This passage raises the question of where this plot is coming from. The point of gaining back his memory is defeat writer's block. There are outside forces, however, playing into the plot. We watch Miles struggle throughout his own text.

Erato also points out that Miles writes himself as "he", and he can only refer to himself with an "I" in conversation. The "what are you trying to hide?" questions the reality within the hospital room. Why this separation? The story they are creating isn't real for Miles to have the close, first person authorship of.

Both characters seem to have a firm grasp on theory. I see Erato in this passage tag teaming the author with Foucoult. It later comes up that authors like having the name on the front for the attention. Is this why Miles is proud to assume the "I'm me" position of the text? He wants to have the control, and he wants to have the authorship. With the struggles within himself, and also with Erato, it isn't so easy to claim that position.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

I will see you in another life, when we are both cats

I’m not ashamed to admit that I love Vanilla Sky. I don’t care how arrogant Tom Cruise is, or how sappy Cameron Crowe is. Jerry Maguire still gets me every single time.

After we touched upon postmodernism in class, my mind immediately went to the film. I don’t want to give away too much, but the idea of a lucid dream IS the hyperreal. The concept is very similar to The Matrix. The lucid dream is sort of a matrix, just not in some post-apocalyptic, robot-infested world. People exist in the hyperreal which is even further removed from reality.

The lucid dream takes past experiences and throws them into the conscious. The mind of David Aames is filled with pop culture reference after pop culture reference. So all these simulations are forming what he believes is his reality. In the film, there is a reason why his lucid dream has masked his reality (I’ll keep my mouth shut in case anyone is inspired to watch it).

I found an article called “Technology and the Time-Image: Deleuze and Postmodern Subjectivity” by Clayton Crockett. In it, he discusses time in the hyperreal. Vanilla Sky presents time in an unusual way. The simulations don’t exactly exist in a nice, chronological order. Crocket also touches upon whether Baudrillard has nostalgia for “finding something pure”. David Aames also gets to this point, where he wishes to find something pure. My lips are sealed.

I would even argue that Vanilla Sky involves psychoanalytic theory. David Aames has a whole bunch of problems with his unconscious that surface in the lucid dream. Not to mention he is being psychoanalyzed throughout the film (by the oh-so-suave Kurt Russel). I know psychoanalysis of a character leads to problems, but I think the film is trying to say something about repression.

I’d like to develop this essay around the idea of the lucid dream. It ties in with simulation, simulacra, hyperreal, and all that good stuff. The lucid dream, full of all its simulations, masks reality. It is a copy with no origin. The original may have been David’s life (yet, isn’t that full of simulations too?), but the lucid dream has developed to be more than that. My concern is that this idea could probably use a little tightening.

P.S. The theory is nice, but my main reason for choosing this film is that I can get all mushy when Tom Cruise kisses Penelope Cruz under the vanilla sky to Sigur Ros.

P.P.S. If you like Sigur Ros, watch the film. Spencer I’m talking to you.