On the ancient Greek portal of the ancient world it was written: Know yourself.
On the portal of the modern world it will be written: Be yourself. Oscar Wilde.
Very atmospheric cinema. The unreal and the real, the darkness and the light, the still chamber, each scene is a gift for the aesthetic Soul. Cocteau here in terms of transforming the parable of love and disappointment fits in an existential key. There are many symbols that spin the picture and meaning in a double equivalent.
Melancholy and sadness. One bundle. Hell and Death.
On death as a substance...there’s an allusion to Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451:
When I was a boy, my grandfather died, he was a sculptor. He was a very kind man, he loved people very much, he helped cleanse our city of slums. For us kids, he made toys, and in his lifetime, he probably made a million things. His hands were always busy. And when he died, I suddenly realized that I was not crying for him, but for the things he was doing. I cried because I knew that there would be no more of this, that Grandpa would no longer be able to carve wooden figurines, breed pigeons in the backyard, play the violin, or tell us funny stories—no one could tell them like him. He was a part of us, and when he died, it was all gone from our lives: there was no one left to do it the way he did. He was special, unlike anyone else. A man of great need. I never came to terms with his death. I still often wonder what beautiful works of art the world lost because of his death, how many amusing stories remain untold, how many pigeons, returning home, will not feel the gentle touch of his hands. He was remaking the world. He brought new things to the world. The night he died, the world was impoverished by ten million beautiful deeds.
I really liked the movie. Probably ten years ago... I wouldn’t have counted all the meanings, I now understood everything and dragged through myself. Cool.💪.
Highest score.