#de sade

[videoreligion]

De Sade (1969)

[amtskind]

serge gainsbourg as marquis de sade in the french three-piece téléfilm valmy (1967), by jean chérasse and abel gance.

unfortunately this trilogy seems to be rather obscure and lost, as i couldn't find any of its episodes to stream.

[qeleresh]

[severin-photocopy]

I love problematic bisexual frenchmen

[randyx]

Watching De Sade as a 2001 aso fan was a... an experience... quite an experience...

[xdazzlex]

they're mostly some sort of erotica, and it's not accidental :) They're for my dolls <3 I guess I will read some of them, but not sure if all ;)

[abatelunare]

Che delirio!… Che disprezzo di ogni principio! Con quali mire la natura può mai creare cuori tanto depravati?… (Donatien Alphonse François De Sade, Eugénie de Franval).

[c4xcocoa]

who knew Veronica was fruity?

[videoreligion]

De Sade (1969)

[enyafans4communism]

imagine being such a freak they name the being a freak symptom after you

[severin-photocopy]

coldness and cruelty by deleuze is such a comfort reading

[briebysabs]

Bring the sassy diva back!

[schizografia]

Se l’ateismo vuole dei martiri, lo dica: il mio sangue è pronto.

L’idea di Dio è il solo torto che non so perdonare agli uomini.

Marchese di Sade

[lusikkamopo]

Am I stupid or

If Marquis machina is the marquis of the castle and there can only be one per castle why is domis dad called marquis de sade sometimes??

But he is also called count de sade?

BUT COUNT ORLOK IS THE COUNT ISNT HE?

There can also be one count per castle??? So is count de sade just what ppl keep calling him even when hes not count??? Or??? Is there another castle????? Im only aware of the shapeless ones castle but he lives in it p much alone??? Im pretty sure machina became the marquis right after the shapeless one left the castle???

If im right and orlok is count and machina is marquis then wouldnt domis dad just be a lord?? We havent even seen him at work like ever and he lives god knows where... just pls someone help me someone has to know the answer

^^finnish translation from vnc calling domis dad marquis (its at the start of book 9)

[nicklloydnow]

La chinoise by Jean-Luc Godard (1967)

“She drew my hand to her and kissed it at length. She caught me by surprise. I didn't know what to say. I tried to laugh as I told her (I was speaking very faintly, the way sick people do — my throat was sore), "Why are you kissing my hand? You know perfectly well that I'm fundamentally loathsome."

I almost wept at the idea that she couldn't help.

The slightest obstacle was too much for me.

In reply, she merely said, "I know. Everybody knows you lead an abnormal sex life. It seemed to me that more than anything else you were very unhappy. I'm very stupid and I laugh a lot. There's nothing but dumb ideas inside my head, but since I met you and I heard people talking about your habits, I've been thinking that people who have loathsome habits, like you — it's probably because they're in pain."

I took a long look at her. She was looking at me, too, not saying anything. She saw that tears were streaming from my eyes, in spite of myself. She was not especially beautiful, but she was touching and natural; I would never have thought she could be so natural. I told her how fond I was of her; that, as far as I was concerned, everything was becoming unreal. Perhaps, when all was said and done, I wasn't loathsome, but I was done for. It would be best if I died now, which is what I was hoping for. I was so exhausted by fever and by this intensity of revulsion that I couldn't explain anything to her; in fact, I didn't understand anything myself.

With almost insane abruptness she then said to me, "I don't want you to die. I'll take care of you. I would have so much liked helping you live. . . ."

I tried reasoning with her. "No, there's nothing you can do for me. There's nothing anyone can do. . . .”

I said this with such sincerity, with such evident despair, that both of us fell silent. Even she didn't dare speak. At this point I found her presence disagreeable.

After this prolonged silence, an idea started inwardly arousing me — a stupid, hateful idea; as though all of a sudden my life was at stake; or, given the circumstances, more than my life. So, seething with fever, I told her in a tone of demented irritation, "Listen to me, Xenie." I began ranting, for no reason, I was frantic. "You've been involved in literary goings-on. You must have read De Sade. You must have found De Sade fantastic. Just like the others. People who admire De Sade are con artists, do you hear? Con artists!"

She looked at me in silence. She didn't dare speak. I went on, "I'm so irritated, I'm so infuriated, I'm so done in I don't know what I'm saying — but why did they do that to De Sade?"

I almost shouted, "Did any of them eat shit? Yes Or no?"

All of a sudden I was wheezing so desperately that I had to sit up. As I coughed, I yelled in my cracked voice, "Men are hirelings. For each one who acts like a master, there are others who are bursting with conceit. And the ones who don't kowtow to anything are in jail or underground. Jail and death for some people means bootlicking for all the rest. . ."” - Georges Bataille, ‘The Blue of Noon’ (1957) [p. 66 - 68]

[videoreligion]

De Sade (1969)