Querying

Frankenstein? You Certainly Have No Idea

A while ago I wrote a similar post about Bram Stoker’s Dracula, where I explored how we’ve gradually departed from the original concept and eventually turned the whole story inside out--the way it’s usually believed to be today.

Horror and genre fiction in general are looked upon as solely entertaining literature. It is best represented by enormous fandoms around horror stories that are really the shallow water of the stream of art--yes, I’m referring to Stephen King.

Although is it not supposed to be more? Shouldn’t horror really be more than a good fright? Obviously I ventured out to write this post because I strongly believe horror can have more profound dimensions and it should. Actually, my opinion is mainly informed by Stoker’s Dracula and Shelley’s Frankenstein (and a good portion is a result of reading Poe extensively in my teen years, as it shows in the post later).

Let me begin by explaining a bit about contemporary horror’s genesis. As a branch of literature it has very little to do with books, it is only an indirect continuation to the tradition. Today’s horror comes from a set of movies, some of which were book adaptations or remotely inspired by them. Actually one name is a recurrent theme here: Bela Lugosi, a.k.a. the king of horror--much more so than anyone would have thought. His version of Dracula has proven more enduring than the written one, so the underlying themes of Stoker’s novel, which even concerned the metaphysical at times, are lost, quite tragically. Also, the popular image of Frankenstein’s monster comes from the 1939 Rowland V. Lee movie Son of Frankenstein. The shape of the creature, its mindlessness, the castle, the assistant--every bit people associate with Frankenstein is a direct result of the movie, hardly any of which actually features in the novel.

A written genre originating from a visual one is encased in the limitations of both--what could not be visually understood won’t appear, and the same applies to the written part. It is an almost unimaginable thing but originally these horror stories barely ever showed the horror. “Why, we have that today,” the ignorant reader might say but the horror of old times was not filled with the today commonplace suspense and disgust elements.

In this post I focus on the method of Shelley in Frankenstein: Her approach was what we would today call the purist. Her novel embodies horror--the dictionary’s definition of it actually. She only ever tells as much about the monster that it exists, reluctantly adding that it’s too hideous to behold and once dropping that its hand resembles that of a mummy. The main instrument of this story is a very long line of deaths but only in the purist spirit, as well.

A prolonged prologue commences with establishing the members of an extended family. They are talented, intelligent, wealthy, charitable people, who are just the dream of the era. After individually stating about every relation how enviable and admirable they are, the monster is briefly introduced. No lightning is involved here, only the statement that Victor Frankenstein, the visionary, somehow figures out how to bestow life upon things and then, once the monster is created, he instantly regrets it and falls into a state of mental breakdown over the realization of how unhallowed his work is. The monster then lives alone for a while, gradually comprehends that he is frightening to humans and feels that he is forced into a perpetual state of solitude, which he loathes more than anything--so much so that he will burn down the entire world if necessary to get himself a companion. And that’s about it. The monster asks Frankenstein to create him a mate but as he refuses he decides to avenge him as the creator of his desperation through killing everyone he holds dear. Enter the death of all characters...

The horror is how Frankenstein watches everyone he loves being killed at the unstoppable hands of his own creation. His guilt and reflections at it are horror. He is horrified. Horrified. He--along with the invested reader--is not exactly startled, nor disgusted, but profoundly horrified.

But there’s more to this story than just being the original horror. I explored that dimension only because of the framework of today’s horrible, genre-redefining novels.

As contemporary horror tries to grasp what visually equates horror, all content is lost. Shelley operates with what Poe designated as the horror-writer’s most powerful instrument: “The death of a beautiful woman, is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world.” In human relations the most extreme loss is that of one’s child but the loss of someone one loves tenderly comes in as a spectacular second, with a much more elevated pathos.

The reason this is preferred by Poe and a myriad of authors is that a parent-descendant relationship is a natural one, where choice has roughly no role, whereas in a romantic relationship, while having a powerful natural component, active choice is central. This is why a parent losing a child usually goes with the line: “A parent should not live to see their child die,” when a lover’s loss comes with: “They were taken from me.” So, while the first kind of death evokes the more profound pain, the second one is the more aesthetic. It is a better case of antagonism: what one actively binds themselves to, pledges to unite their identity to, is actively deprived from them by a second actor, thus their willing choice for whom they would value most highly in life is irrevocably undone.

The peak is then the death of a beautiful woman but it can only be a real peak if the beauty of that woman is fully realized. 

An interesting juxtaposition can be made here between the book’s model and the contemporary one. The book emphasizes multiple faculties, such as intelligence, a charitable nature, intuition and nobility of character, whereas today’s model is derived from the passions of the flesh. Contemporary theories favor a simplifying approach, which marks the core of all traits the sexual of a person. However, Frankenstein is a great example of how it used to be a valid action to discrete the sexual, the intellectual and the emotional. Today it would be called repression of the true motives (the sexual), since all the faculties associated with beauty are just expressions of the deeper, truer core of identity. Feminists of the past would have pointed out that the death of the beautiful woman symbolizes Shelley’s vision of the intelligent, competent woman’s fate, as she is determined to die, even by the principles of literature (or Poe). Today’s most progressive feminists, though, would confine this story to the literal body of women, however, not only a story but women, and all people, are much larger than bodies.

But Frankenstein is not the perfect novel. Whereas it succeeds at many things and has its outstanding merits, it does fail at anticipating what the reader can guess, as Frankenstein misinterprets a supposedly enigmatic line and prepares for his own death, when his soon-to-be wife is threatened. Sadly the target is so obvious that it’s impossible to believe what the protagonist believes to come next but, as I have stated before, this is a completely marginal element of the story and perhaps even Shelley didn’t want to make it a really elaborate twist...

All in all Frankenstein is the beacon of the lost genre of horror. But beside its literary quality it might also be a reminder to the readers that there used to be a way of thinking that thought it possible to abstract from the material.

The quintessence of elegance and the air of superiority is repose.

it's a whole new level

ps: the alternate ending kicks ass

New video! EVERYTHING IS POSSUM! (took way longer to make than at first it would seem)

How I Met the Most Terrible Woman

The famous sit-com, How I Met Your Mother, reached its end finally. It's been greatly anticipated by many and is currently being hated and scorned by even more. I've heard countless negative comments on it but as most people aren't philosophers, nor particularly good at deeply analyzing films, this popular negative attitude toward the finale of the show rests on feeble limbs.

Two main groups of degrading opinions come to my mind that I've heard:

#1: It's a letdown because we've been driven to believe that Ted would finally arrive at a point when all his misery ends and his life magically becomes complete. This state could be transient but in the final episode it lasted for only a couple minutes and it served the sole purpose of building drama, which is truly not an elegant act.

#2: We've been lied to because Robin and Barney were meant to stay together. They would have been the true success-story of the show and now it's gone to smoke.

These arguments wouldn't stand the ground against strong reasoning because they aren't based on reason but on emotions and taste; and we all know the Latin proverb: "Taste is undebatable." They aren't satisfying arguments to the opposition because they are not smart ones. On the contrary, nobody can argue against them rationally because they are built upon expectations and what we expect is our own--there are no right or wrong expectations, only fulfilled and failed ones.

Shortly after watching it I was hesitant as to what it was meant to be: an ever-hopeful romantic or a disillusioned realist piece. A friend of mine said quite cleverly that it was a disillusioned romantic one. At first I thought it was a brilliant phrase but then I remembered Fitzgerald's Amory Blaine:

<"I'm a cynical idealist." He paused and wondered if that meant anything.>

There are terms that just don't make sense, even though the young egotist feels as though he's said something utterly sharp. This friend of mine is actually a lot smarter than me but in regards of this he made a mistake. A romantic, by definition, has his/her illusions.

Of course I'm not Immanuel Kant and I'm not trying to build an argument on semantics. My point with this is actually that I understand how this ending seems like something smarter than what the great contemporary romantics could dream up and yet with a stronger emotional core than what any realist could invent. It truly creates the illusion that it's a smart ending. But I find it at best average.

Smart people, who've mostly responded positively to HIMYM's finale, often argue that:

#1: It touches on the perfect imperfection of life, how nothing good lasts and yet how Good is omnipresent.

#2: It's the only way that the whole franchise makes sense, since the conclusion explains why this story had to be told in the first place.

#3: It gives us hope that something waits for everybody to make life worthwhile, even in the most surprising forms and even multiple times.

These seem pretty logical arguments to me, however, they are marred by a certain intellectual leniency--that what's smart and realistic, always promotes valuable concepts. But that's not true.

The fatal flaw of HIMYM is that it limits life to a race, where no one actually wins.

Think of Robin and Barney. They had a successful marriage that only lasted three years, what cannot be a successful marriage by definition. Success in marriage isn't depleting a cup of joys and experiences: people vow to keep together to the end of their lives, not to the end of their happiness. Of course, I understand divorces and I don't deny anyone the right to get a divorce, but they exist because sometimes the married couple fails at their promises and that means the failure of their entire marriage and failure is the antonym of success. It's impossible to say that it's a successful marriage but also a failed one. It may have had some success but not a fullness of success.

Think of Ted and Tracey. They were soulmates, destined to be together, and they had their time and they were happy. Then the story contradicts itself and Tracey dies and the concept of the one dies with her. Why does Ted go back to Robin after his marriage? It's not that I'd reject a story where two, who are not perfectly fitting, but loving and caring and willing get together and struggle to live out their love, which naturally has a number of difficulties. That's actually a good love story. But how did a perfect marriage not change Ted essentially? How come does he go back to a failed relationship?

In summary, in the finale there are 2 important points that I find problematic:

#1: Ted arrived at the point where everything started. Maybe things would work out now--maybe not. What is for sure though is that a relatively lasting romantic relationship (a marriage) and parenthood did not alter his concept of where to turn for love. He goes to the same person with the same gift as in the very beginning of the series. What it means is that Ted takes an escapist standpoint and views lived-out love as the primary value in life. Actually not the primary value but much rather he finds everything else pointless because nothing added to or took away from his life: tragedy and great happiness. Ted did not gather true wisdom--he gained nothing but a big number of memories, which hardly correlate, as they eventually take no effect.

#2: Barney's been emotionally crippled by Robin. All the characters point out that he should move on and move forward because even though divorce is a tough issue, one must be able to not become the Barnicle afterwards. What isn't recognized is that divorce is beyond human capacity. It's very nice that Barney becomes emotionally capable through finally becoming a father but the weight of him being emotionally crippled can't be put on the shoulders of a baby girl. It's not that a young girl can't be very strong and do wonders but that it's not normal and natural--it's tragic. There's not a normal way of getting past a marriage but marriages are to be saved. The story runs into a wrong moral that looks very pretty but is actually misleading.

I write this post at about two in the morning so some of my points and arguments are missing and the remaining few is also mixed up and confusing but I felt it important to write this post. Life can't be a cruel balance of happiness and grief. Life isn't a pointless circle. I say these not only because I am a christian but also because philosophically they are great and painful simplifications.

And that taught me you can’t have anything, you can’t have anything at all. Because desire just cheats you. It’s like a sunbeam skipping here and there about a room. It stops and gilds some inconsequential object, and we poor fools try to grasp it—but when we do the sunbeam moves on to something else, and you’ve got the inconsequential part, but the glitter that made you want it is gone.

F Scott Fitzgerald - The Beautiful and Damned

Corey's best so far...

A lot of people (myself included) get really excited about what’s possible as digital video moves forward. The biggest buzz in the past decade has been the extremely high resolution offered by some cameras. This resolution is measured in K, which stands for “thousand” (kilo).

Common Video Resolutions (width x height):

I have exorcised the demons. This house is clean.

I am the midnight of a soul I’m the other side of the wall The fissure between the tops Ever-hunted blood-red fox I am the glimpse of a thought I’m the wave broken by rocks A mystery of nothing Trapped, caught by snares whilst hunting I am the smoke of a burnt-out candle The smell of night The sight of blinds I am the broken glass’ torn-down handle The weight of light The might of fright But dawn follows the night I’ll enjoy an eagle’s flight And I already know Why I wait tomorrow

(via bernatk)

I got that same feel now, more than a year after writing this, though nothing's the same really ... #revival