A THOUGHT FOR TODAY (cited on A-Word-A-Day by Anu Garg):
"It is well to know something of the manners of various
peoples, in order more sanely to judge our own, and that we do not think that
everything against our modes is ridiculous, and against reason, as those who
have seen nothing are accustomed to think." -Rene Descartes, philosopher
and mathematician (1596-1650)
I'm not sure whether this provides a useful context for the
continuing saga of Lars von Trier's incredibly stupid and ill-advised but
not-to-be-taken-seriously remarks, but I think it can never hurt to quote a
leading French philosopher when examining stuff that transpires in France.
As of today (Friday May 20th), I have it on good authority
that some VERY powerful French media figures who happen to be Jewish exerted
enormous pressure on the Cannes Film Festival to retaliate against von Trier.
These well-connected individuals campaigned for the cancellation of Wednesday's
formal evening screening of "Melancholia," a step they hoped would be
topped off by making the film ineligible for awards consideration. Instead, the fest slapped the cultural
equivalent of a restraining order on von Trier (the director told IndieWIRE's
Howard Feinstein that he is "not allowed within 100 meters of the
Palais."
The screening went ahead as scheduled with the attendant
pomp despite, uh, the circumstance. In
other words, the programming side of the festival that has nurtured von Trier's
career every step of the way did not leave its wayward protégé entirely in the lurch,
after all.
If this take on matters is correct, then the Festival's
declaration that von Trier is persona non grata may actually be seen as an
affectionate compromise, a gesture that differentiates the man from his work
(the only sane approach when loose cannons play with verbal matches).
Since the beat-it-in-Latin decree was made public, Von
Trier's comments to journalists appear surprisingly sanguine. One could be
forgiven for speculating that Von Trier may well have been told that certain
powers-that-be expected the Festival to throw him to the wolves (or at the very
least to that talking fox from "Antichrist" mouthing the words
"Chaos reigns!").
Von Trier told Feinstein: "As far as I'm
concerned, I still have two good friends here, Gilles Jacob and Thierry
Fremaux."
He could be oblivious, he could be bluffing or he could be
semi-secure in the knowledge that what seems like a harsh over-reaction is in
fact a diplomatic smokescreen that makes the best of a wretched set of
circumstances.
For what it's worth, private feedback to my previous blog
entry has included encouragement from several adult children of concentration
camp survivors, including a film school classmate whose father is a Schindler
Jew. It has also brought my way the thoughtful observations of people who see
no leeway to josh -- with or without talent -- about the unspeakable horrors
visited upon the world by Adolph Hitler. (Fair enough. Von Trier was as Not
Funny as it is possible to be. But I doubt
I'm the only kid who grew up thinking the "Springtime for Hitler"
production number in Mel Brooks' "The Producers" was not only
hysterically funny but also a warmly embraced transformation of horror into
humor. Hitler had only been out of the picture for 23 years when Brooks made
HIS picture.)
Did Lars von Trier say some monumentally stupid and
offensive things?
Absolutely. Did he mean a word of it? I think not. (I also heard from an American who knows von
Trier and says this sounds like a typical bout of his filterless approach to
saying things out loud in English.)
French news continues to be obsessed with the sorry saga of
Dominique Strauss-Kahn who was, until very recently, incarcerated in the
portion of Rikers
Island reserved for
detainees with communicable diseases. Is stupidity contagious?
It can't begin to compensate for the ha-ha-free brouhaha
initiated by Von Trier, but I'd like to share one of the best jokes I've ever
heard about the nature of being Jewish in a hostile world. It was told to me by
Paul Mazursky when he was an honoree of the French-American Film Workshop in Avignon in the early
1990s:
Moishe and Shlomo have been captured by the Nazis and are
facing a firing squad.
"Moishe," whispers Shlomo, "I'm scared -- I'm
going to ask for a blindfold."
To which a censorious Moishe retorts: "Shush! Don't
make trouble!"
by Lisa Nesselson