måndag 20 november 2017

Rings (2017)

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. “Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.” He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought — frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth...

Hade jag varit Andy Kaufman så hade jag postat HELA romanen The Great Gatsby (han läste ju boken från början till slut inför en uttråkad universitetspublik). SÅ tråkig och outhärdligt smärtsam var Rings. Helt bananas. Nä, nu när ni förstår vidden av galenskapen så bjuder jag här istället på en mycket mer läskig och oroväckande film som samtidigt ger en liten inblick i vad som försiggår i huvudet på både mig och filmskaparna!


(SF Anytime)

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