/ Social Epistemology / Cosmology / Theology /
This is a movie I decided to try watching myself, while Jan is in Nova Scotia. My guess was she might not like it. If I scout the movie and think she would like it, I can recommend it to her, maybe I wouldn’t mind seeing it twice. I sure do love the star (despite having seen him once looking like his face had been peeled. What could be more humiliating for a hulking good-looking rich and famous guy, a man’s guy, than to have his goddam face peeled? Face peeling one might think would be for women, vain, stupid, shallow women, and pansies). And I liked Neeson’s character’s blasphemous challenges. Too bad I so hated the movie.
If I hated it so, why was I then still surfing around about it once the credits were running? I read one response which charged the movie with an unpleasant atheism: because, the reviewer explained, our hero demands something of God and God doesn’t answer!
God doesn’t answer? How would a human know whether God had answered or not?
And if the human thinks that God did answer, and if we all agree that God answered, how would that prove that the human was right? that the human understood God’s answer?
What makes us think that we would know one way or the other?
(That’s like the FBI, and the fed courts, believing that they understood what I had written when they arrested me! Preposterous. The Church, illiterates all, thinks it can judge Kepler?!)
With “pagan” gods, it’s easy. Pagan concepts are simple: the pagan prays, Don’t erupt that volcano on me. The volcano erupts, but not on you: therefore …
But the Jewish mono-god left those simplicities in the dust: and the Christian God … Three gods? No: three to the three to the three … No one can keep up. No pagan god would let the local kleptocracy crucify his son, he’d bomb them with thunder first. But a God who does allow his son to be crucified, leaves him on the cross in despair, that’s a God we need a Freud for. And a Jung, and an Erich Fromm.
The Cloud of Unknowing
If I ask the bank teller a question and the bank teller just keeps counting the money, does that prove that the bank teller doesn’t exist? Maybe the teller is deaf, maybe the teller is occupied, maybe the teller hates specifically me. Maybe the bank president told the teller, When Knatz comes in, ignore him.
What makes us think we can know what anything means?
Imagine Genghis Khan getting his face peeled! Genghis doesn’t care what he looks like! His ears were cauliflower before his first real fight. Genghis cares what the woman he’s raping looks like; Genghis doesn’t care what she thinks he looks like. Genghis has her pussy douched: he doesn’t need to wipe himself before he mounts her.
The jail gave me a shower, the jail didn’t itself get showered.
Hollywood is so funny: Brad Pitt is Achilles?! Achilles does not have cauliflower ears? Colin Farrell is Alexander?! Looking like that?!
No, at Judgment, you will have to look sweet and innocent; God will have no such need.
2916 05 15 Jan and I watched Shirley Temple work with Randolph Scott, each as gorgeous as the other! I bet if Scott got his face peeled we’d see perfect leather underneath.
There are other imponderables in this movie. Why in hell is it called the Grey? Gray with an E: English spelling? Why? The wolves are Brits? The loathsome oil guys are spiritually ambiguous? No, they’re not, just plain straight damned.
I do though love movies where everyone is so hateful out of the gate that I wish every character dead and in hell by the end of the first five minutes. Then I start wishing the audience were with them.
Yes, I’ll go too.