Tea for the Tillerman

I recently found this coffee shop here in downtown Greencastle (it’s quite the downtown, you can hold your breath and walk to the other side if you wanted) and it has definitely been a study oasis with just the right mix of noise and silence. The feel is very homey and the best part is that I can go somewhere off campus, get away from everyone and work in a completely different atmosphere. They also have free wi-fi which is wonderful. Anyway, they have a decent selection of tea here and I just finished a cup of Orange Pekoe. The tea has minimal citrus flavor and a slight mint touch. This black tea is not flavored with orange and the name does not suggest a certain flavor. Orange Pekoe refers to the grade of the tea and they either consist of large pieces of of tea leaves or whole leaves. This tea is a high-quality grade of tea. The Orange Pekoe does not contain any bitter tastes so one does not need to add honey or something along the same line. All together I’ll give the tea a 4.0 out of 5. I think it could have a bolder flavor, however, it is a wonderful tasting tea and does not overwhelm the senses like other strong teas. I’d suggest drinking this tea while studying, reading, relaxing or talking about philosophical issues. Definitely recommended

    Despite not being able to watch Hiroshima Mon Amour with Levi Douglass I enjoyed it immensely nonetheless. It is clear, as Alain Resnais freely admits that the film began a documentary and evolved into a “documentary-fiction.” As a result the film has an autobiographical nature. In other words, the film is telling a story about itself: The lovers meet while she is filming a movie on peace, the very essence of the film itself. Speaking of war, decimation, and Armageddon-like doom, Elle warns, “It will begin again.” The lovers provide a vivid and meaningful departure for the audience. It is out of their allegorical relationship that we were able to consider the nature of forgetting and remembering.   

            The film plays out in four acts, and it is the first and final parts which seem to carry the weight of the film. In the thirty minute opening sequence the tangled bodies of Lui and Elle are seen in a montage with footage of Hiroshima’s decimation. Their flesh resembles the radiated bodies and twisted metal left in the wake of the bomb. A pseudo-dialogue between the two lovers narrates the footage that seems to transcend the film’s world.

            In the forth and final act Lui attempts to persuade Elle from leaving Hiroshima. All the way through she is conflicted and reluctant to receive his invitation. Along with the opening montage and dialogue, their concluding remarks stand strikingly outside the films narrative flow. The viewer is reminded of M’s concluding scene. All along, Renais seems to overlap the meaning of both “stories.” Elle begins to recall her past love of a German solider by means of her brief and passionate encounter with Lui. In the same way we are meant to recall Hiroshima, and the countless other stories tragically touched by the war.      

            Resnais is able to powerfully blend the two stories in order to confront his audience with the “horror of forgetting.” He is able to do this with a delicate touch. More allegory would burden the film and hinder its filmic presence. Less embedded commentary would render it obscure and unapproachable.

            In the end, it seems there is no other subject worth projecting onto the tragedy of Hiroshima in order to bring it back to life than love. With time memory erodes because of the distance from the emotion felt. Just as Lui awoke in Elle a renewed affection for her former lover and home, we ought to recall the life-destroying force that decimated Hiroshima. Resnais is successful for having done this in new fashion and new form. I felt his vision that was pure and effective.   

This weekend, I brought home a half gallon of root beer from Anderson’s very own Gene’s Root Beer. According to this site, their root beer is ranked as the 4th best in the U.S. 

The root beer went down easy as we sipped from frosty mugs and watched Robert Bresson’s Pickpocket. Even from the half gallon the root beer was a smooth sensation on one’s tongue that made every swallow an experience to behold. For an added twist, add rum. Trujillo raved about it, but I must allow him to elaborate. This is really about the most I can possibly write about root beer. Go try it. 

Levi and I just watched Alain Resnais’ debut film Hiroshima, mon Amour. It was a pretty astonishing picture, and only the second French New Wave film I have seen (that I can think of). A very poetic and artistic movie, it began with an incredibly long monologue (mostly, only a few interjections) describing the memories of pre- and post-bombing Hiroshima (yet, as we will find out, it describes a complex love relationship), accompanied by cinematographically arousing montage of documentary footage and artistic shots.

This little film is one of the most intellectually stimulating films I have seen in a great while (which is not only attributed to my having only seen a few films recently). It was a thought-provoking love story that had a hint (ok, a little more) of an allegory about Hiroshima and the bombing. It presents a rather emotional and profound look at memory and forgetfulness, tied with the pang and horrors of losing a loved one and the loss of Hiroshima (nicely paralleled even in the title, Hiroshima, “my love”), and how they effect who we are in the present. Just as New Hiroshima was built up and replaces the old, so the woman’s lost love gradually was forgotten, and buried under the sands of time, replaced by someone else and something else.

Yet it is more complex than this. The lost seem to be fighting, clawing to be remembered— the lover’s absence painfully reminds the beloved of her loss, and Hiroshima’s marred image and people serve as the reminder of the tragic events that occurred. Maybe the woman is done remembering her past, and maybe Hiroshima is done living the horrors of yesteryear, but the same may not be said of the other side(s). The film shows a man and woman, who, by coming close to one another, then drift slowly apart with the reliving of the past, almost as if the past is still alive in them, in us. Resnais is perhaps insinuating that we never really leave the past, nor do we fully live with the constraints of time (this film only takes place in the time of maybe a day or so), but we walk freely between what is past and what now is, never fully able to escape the former. Many works of art may attempt to display the power of love in overcoming separation and time, but not in the way that Resnais’ film seems to. This love is a maddening force: it was maddening at first loss and with the memory of this loss it grows even still.

That’s all I really have to say regarding the philosophical aspect of the film. The artistic element was well-employed as well. Resnais makes constant use of juxtaposition of images (two entangled bodies and the ruins of Hiroshima). The beginning scene with the two bodies interestingly originally has a sort of sand falling on them, although I like Levi’s interpretation that it was perhaps ash (an image of the radioactive after-effects of “the bomb”). The dialogue, as I said, is a bit poetic, invoking strong emotions to accompany the visual manifestations of the past— most of this story takes place in the present, remembering the past. Much of the beginning monologue is repeated at the end, this time taking on a newer and deeper meaning for the woma (Riva) and for the viewer.

I thought this was a compelling story that engaged the viewer, even though nothing “happened” at all. It was rich with images and discourse, as well as philosophical thought. Of course I only just watched it for the first time. So, a second viewing may even change a lot of my thoughts here—there’s a lot to catch.

10/10, by the way.