(no subject)
Aug. 9th, 2004 11:00 amI've taken my recent l33t (heh) video skillz and looked at Utena. My God, that has been illuminating as all hell. It's not just me and my dirty mind. It's not me making the leap that the observatory thingie (I keep wanting to call it the astronomy tower, but I suspect that's a Potterverse term.) is, well, symbolic. That would not be me. I thought for a while that maybe, possibly, it was me and I was reading into the thing. No. It is not me. That's intentional. The number of camera-ogles that the tower gets? Way too many if we're just establishing location. And, damn it, they're suggestive. The whole entire anime is suggestive. The car. Sooo intentional. The leering. The whole business with the couch. They vogue, they pose, they sprawl. Yes, that is his hand on his crotch. Yes. Why is he surrounded by potted cactus plants? Would that be because he's such a prick?
Then there's the roses. My god, the fucking roses. Not only is the entire world decorated with roses, stylized and realistic... but they keep being not just-a-cigar. The damn rose bride grows them. The evil bastard bites one and tears off a petal. The duellists wear rose signet rings, which, god help me, resonates in my mind with Story of O. The duellists wear roses in the duels. The victor wins the duel by, er, deflowering the other person. With a SWORD. Mmmm-hmmm. And after the duels are over, the defeated one dies, kinda. It's not a big death, because they're walking around perfectly fine a scene or two later, but it's certainly *a* death because they are all sprawled out and not moving. We could call that a little death, I suppose. Honestly, what am I supposed to be taking away from this?
I was looking at Utena because, for the last three years, I've wanted to make a music video of Utena to a particular song. Every time I've heard the freaking song on the radio for the last three years, I've thought about what a nice Utena music video it would be. Probably I need to get out more. Anyway, the whole making-a-music-video thing was why I was looking at tiny pieces of Utena in slow motion obssessive mode. Nobody but me really wants to see Utena done to Grand Funk's Some Kind Of Wonderful, but life would be no fun at all if we weren't allowed the occasional guilt-free wankfest. Sometimes, it's all about pleasing yourself and I reckon this is one of those times.
Speaking of wanking, Florence Nightengale felt compulsive guilt about the whole thing. She kept notes about it in her diary. No lie.
See here: http://books.guardian.co.uk/extracts/story/0,6761,1277111,00.html (scroll down quite a bit. This is a nonfiction blog, so y'know, it's in there.)
Then there's the roses. My god, the fucking roses. Not only is the entire world decorated with roses, stylized and realistic... but they keep being not just-a-cigar. The damn rose bride grows them. The evil bastard bites one and tears off a petal. The duellists wear rose signet rings, which, god help me, resonates in my mind with Story of O. The duellists wear roses in the duels. The victor wins the duel by, er, deflowering the other person. With a SWORD. Mmmm-hmmm. And after the duels are over, the defeated one dies, kinda. It's not a big death, because they're walking around perfectly fine a scene or two later, but it's certainly *a* death because they are all sprawled out and not moving. We could call that a little death, I suppose. Honestly, what am I supposed to be taking away from this?
I was looking at Utena because, for the last three years, I've wanted to make a music video of Utena to a particular song. Every time I've heard the freaking song on the radio for the last three years, I've thought about what a nice Utena music video it would be. Probably I need to get out more. Anyway, the whole making-a-music-video thing was why I was looking at tiny pieces of Utena in slow motion obssessive mode. Nobody but me really wants to see Utena done to Grand Funk's Some Kind Of Wonderful, but life would be no fun at all if we weren't allowed the occasional guilt-free wankfest. Sometimes, it's all about pleasing yourself and I reckon this is one of those times.
Speaking of wanking, Florence Nightengale felt compulsive guilt about the whole thing. She kept notes about it in her diary. No lie.
See here: http://books.guardian.co.uk/extracts/story/0,6761,1277111,00.html (scroll down quite a bit. This is a nonfiction blog, so y'know, it's in there.)