#Cinema Despair

[zer0point5ive]

going into a catatonic sort of state over this scene again

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

Un beau matin (Mia Hansen-Løve, 2022)  

[apicturespeaks]

Despair, Rainer Werner Fassbinder

[filmap]

Despair Rainer Werner Fassbinder. 1978

Lake Pier 17, Schlossgasse 10, 3653 Oberhofen am Thunersee, Switzerland See in map

See in imdb

[confessthysiins]

[ let go ] after holding onto receiver's hand for a while, sender finally, reluctantly releases their grip

THE ROMANCE OF HANDS & TOUCH. / OPEN.

It’s a short ride from the police station to the waterside where Oswald parks the car. They rode in a tense, pained silence, the rumble of the engine and the quiet song of crooners on the radio their only reprieve from it’s seeming eternity. He didn’t know what to say, and he warrants Miriam didn’t either.

He’d gotten the call around 1 A.M. “ I’m sorry, ” Miriam had answered through dry sobs. “ I didn’t know who else to call. ” She’d been found huddled at the back of a Corolla in an old dealership in the industrial district, a cold girl just looking to spend the night anywhere with a door, with a lock. So Oswald had thrown on his coat and left the comforts of sleep for the station. “ I’ll be right there, dear. Just give me a few minutes, ” he had said, voice uncharacteristically rough with the unexpected waking. He’d driven safely despite the web of feelings being spun in his gut as though by a great spider. He was worried, of course - they’d taken her in on trespassing charges, but surely she didn’t have any ID. Had they checked her bag and inevitably found drugs? Had they been rough with her, or at all uncouth? He found it hard to stomach the thought of her alone in a holding cell, her only crime having sought shelter in the frigid night.

He’d been at the station by 1:30 A.M. Only a few minutes after talking to the officer in charge they were already gone. Miriam hadn’t hugged him when she’d been released, hadn’t spoken at all while they remained inside. She’d been quiet, apologetic in her silence. She looked tired and hungry, like a lost child, or a martyr. The cops teased them about the fancy car. Oswald escorted her out with an arm around her shoulders.

“ How’d you do it? ” she had asked as he opened the passenger door of the Cadillac for her. “ What do you mean? ” He sat himself. “ Get me out, I mean. How’d you do it? ” “ I lied, ” he had answered so naturally. He didn’t tell her that he said he was her father.

They’d pulled up at a drive-through on the harbor ( “ You look like you’d eat me if I gave you the chance, ” he’d said, surely meaning to tease, but his tone was tired and she found it unnerving. ) For himself Oswald took only a black coffee. In the confessional darkness of the car, Miriam apologized again. “ I must have woken you up. ” “It’s alright, dear. I told you you could always call me if there was an emergency, after all. I’m just glad I could be there. ” He’d sighed as they drove away. He sounded exhausted. Did he resent her for this? Maybe he’d have her make it up to him, somehow. She wasn’t sure how to feel about the thought.

It’s almost 2 A.M. now. They’re parked by the waterside under the cold halide lamps, at a small quay where older locals liked to fish and younger ones liked to smoke weed and make out. The pavement is strewn with broken glass. A drunk had puked up his night’s excess at the very edge of the cement. It’s just the two of them now. Oswald turns the key and the engine’s purr dies with a hot sigh. He clears his throat as he exits the car, closing his black wool coat about himself. Miriam follows him, her demureness reminiscent of the quiet apologia that follows an argument. 

He leans against the front bumper of the car, a cigarette in one hand, the other roaming his pockets. When he sighs mist enshrouds him in gold, white hair yellowed by the streetlights. “ Here I am, ” he smiled, the ghost of impatience ruining his usual genuinity, “ up at 2 A.M., smoking by the bay like a teenager. I havn’t smoked in years, you know? ” he adds, the patting at his pockets growing frustrated. “ Say, Miriam, dear, have you got a light? ” That was what he said. But what she heard was, You always find a way to bring out the worst in me. She looks out to the water, star-specked with the cityscape’s myriad lights. She gives him the lighter anyway. “ Thanks, darling. ”

He offers her one before lighting his own cigarette up, takes a long drag, head thrown back in the pleasure of old habit. Miriam fiddles with her bag. “ Come, ” he tells her, and she obeys, though she dares not look into his eyes. He’s tired and resentful, and she’s just waiting for the thunder of his anger to strike. But it never does. When he leans in close to light her up she shivers like soft grass before lightning. A smoky exhale trails behind him as he redresses, but something holds him back. Miriam’s hand is closed on his, holding the lighter. She doesn’t care for the trinket. Wet eyes are fixed on him, puffy with dried tears. She tugs ever so lightly at him, soft fingers searching for his own, thin and bony. This is her begging: Please, my God, let me have this. Just a moment, let me have this. And then I will ask for nothing more.

“ Miriam… Oh, Miriam. ”

He looks sad, with his white hair falling on his sunken face, when his thumb moves to caress hers, a soft and lithe touch, the only kind he can afford himself lest he forgive reason and embrace her. Poor lonely Miriam, with no one in the world but him. Right there in her icy eyes, he can see it so clearly. Right there alone by the dark water and the shining city lights he’s all she has. In another life, he kisses her hard and fast. But in this one, he slowly unwraps her hand from his, pulls away from the closest they’ve ever been to breaking. He cannot be her everything, can’t afford to throw it all away for her, skinny girl with her beautiful gaze that chills like winter, for her fascinating black-hole desires and all consuming, all consummating love. But he can at least bear her hurts, for now. He steps away, cigarette burning between cold lips, sighs as his hands reluctantly quit hers to hide in his coat. He closes his eyes, face like a mask of death under the lights, as another smoke-heavy exhale hides him, if briefly, from her burning own. 

“ I have to make a call. Would you wait in the car for me? ”

When he sits next to her again in the darkness the well of emotions in her ragged throat is unbearable. Touch me, she thinks, do anything you want, but please don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me. In silence he puts in his key and the engine roars to life. She’s been good, she’s been obedient. Surely he’ll forgive her her small transgression, her tentative peek beyond the boundaries of their doctor-patient relationship. “ Where are we going? ” she asks sheepishly. When he answers he fails to hide a certain irritation in his tired voice. “ I have a conference tomorrow-” a flick of his wrist as he checks the time, “ four hours from now. Damned Europeans. I’d like to get at least a little bit of sleep until then. ” She feels guilty, but says nothing.

“ Don’t worry, ” he tells her as they roll up on the highway. “ I've found you somewhere for tonight. ” She doesn’t ask what will become of her. After what he did for her tonight, he’d still be a saint for leaving her on a street corner to wander till morning. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t talk any more, nor looks at her. He just drives home.

[aengelren]

Cinema

[therossgarden]

The most embarrassing moment of my life will always be the one time, in good old 2016, that my class’ cool kids invited me to the cinema. And I was like “sure it’ll be fun and I’ll have lots of new friends by the end!”

And everything was going perfectly, ok? I was cool, I was funny, I was having fun. Except for one thing.

The movie was Trolls. The original one with the evil Bergen and yada yada.

So imagine my shock when, out of nowhere, Branch screamed “BECAUSE SINGING KILLED MY GRANDMA” and began the flashback of his dead grandma and how he had her killed.

And, listen, I’m not a crier during films, but when I tell you I can’t watch that scene TO THIS DAY because I bawl like a toddler.

Because I’m extremely close to my grandma. And the idea alone sends me hyperventilating. It literally only happens with dogs, moms and grandmas. The sheer bad luck I had that day smh.

And in that moment I was like “it’s ok, it’s dark, no one will see you, you can wipe your tears away and no one will notice”

… and then the lights turned on for the halftime intermission

And all the cool kids in my year turned towards me and found me looking like the crying Jerry meme

And they all began to fuss over what happened, handing me tissues and what not

And the coolest girl asked me “hey, what’s wrong, did something happen?”

And I replied, in the most pathetic voice on earth…

“S-singing killed his grandma…”

And everyone looked at me with pure disgust.

After that day, none of them talked to me ever again.

And now, every time I hear on TikTok that mother effing audio of “BeCaUsE sInGiNg KiLlEd My GrAnDmA” I get flashbacks of the pure horror that was the moment the lights turned on in that fanned cinema.

(Tbh that year I made friends with the people I’m still currently besties with, so it didn’t go as bad, but damn the second hand embarrassment I get every time that audio pops on my fyp…)

[andreanero]

I’m sure we are taller in other dimensions,

You say we’re small and not worth the mention.

-Frank Ocean

[wulfhalls]

I am not afraid of any man alive

[pinkinsect]

vkei songs need to stop making me think about isakainess whilst i am in critical periods of my quarter in school :(

[eccentricpumpkin]

I'm Thinking of Ending Things

A while ago I watched "I'm Thinking of Ending Things" and for the first time in a long time I felt peaceful.

When I rewatched the film with some friends, they did not feel the same to say the least. One of them even described the feeling of watching it like the tension before a jumpscare. And I mean, they're right. It's meant to be a psychological thriller.

I felt a similar thing while watching the end of Hereditary. It just felt so... beautiful. Not the killing and stuff, obviously that's not great. But something about it just felt... calming.

I could give more examples, but you get the gist.

See, I think tragedy is beautiful because I can see myself in it. I can see my pain , my fear, my utter despair in the face of this world personified. And I suddenly I don't feel so lonely. I feel connected.

I don't think I'm the only one who feels this way. At least, I hope I'm not. Being alive is fucking terrifying, we know nothing and have no control over anything. We don't know what's real and what's not, why we are here or why anything happens. It feels like no one ever talks about it and we just continue with our lives. But these movies do, serving our eldritch terrors to us on a silver platter. And holy shit, that's the only thing that actually feels real.

So welcome to my blog. I don't know what the fuck is going on, and I probably never will. But at least I'll be able to share with the void some posts about it.

[creature-once-removed]

.

[gregor-samsung]

La limita de jos a cerului [The Unsaved] (Igor Cobileanski, 2013)

[schlock-luster-video]

On October 22, 2016, Narcotics, Pit of Despair: Flowers of Darkness was screened at the Lausanne Underground Film and Music Festival.

[outerspacemermaiid]

[raskoolz]

IN THIS WORLD - MONDO GROSSO

Now let's be in love さあだから愛になりましょう

Embrace the dry world 乾いた世界を抱いて

read your wishes 希望を読み取って

From a frivolous screen 軽薄な画���より

Wet your skin intimately 親密に肌を濡らして

Warm up your freedom 自由を温めて

I just want to be happy 幸せでありたいだけの

Because they are strange creatures 微妙な生物達だから

Let your five senses dance 五感を踊らせて

From a frivolous scene 軽薄な場面より

Touch your dreams intimately 親密に夢を触って

Forgive me with those eyes その目で許して

Now let's become the sea さあだから海になりましょう

Crying for the dry world 乾いた世界を泣いて

swallowing despair 絶望を飲み込んで

Now let's be in love さあだから愛になりましょう

Embrace the dry world 乾いた世界を抱いて

read your wishes 希望を読み取って