Interstellar and The Kiss of Love (Spoiler Alert! for the faint hearted )
There is more to the coincidental release of Interstellar movie and the Kiss of Love protests in three Indian cities. Even when the world will have sustained itself after a mighty catastrophic threat, and the human will and spirit restored all thanks to a belief in Nothing, there will still be no place on Earth to love and make love. It will still be hostile and inhabitable for the lovers who are 'ahead of time'. I am in fact talking about the turbulent present warped in crooked social systems and taking a pick at the apocalyptic future. Future is a vague construct and yet there is an apocalyptic certainty about it and which we savour within a stoic present. To languish in the Future is a tight-rope walk between banal and profound. Such a stunt will be worth attempting for the sake of sheer irreverence in doing so. I will, therefore, speak of the present from a fictional attempt (Interstellar) of depicting future. While i do so, i will essentially be speaking of love, as an act of here and now.
Loving,making love, exhibiting affection is an extremely political act even when it is in the precincts of the personal. It is communicating in the naked, an exchange of senses. Something is achieved and something is bestowed. Partners become collaborators in establishing their statement of presence in marking a joint act. On the other hand, when in public,loving is a statement to the onlookers, communicating the irony of public and personal spaces. Hence, i feel the elements of time and space are inevitable in any politically overt act.
However, the duality of time-space is also a contraption. I call it a contraption with acute pessimism. I have harboured a quietened disgust for the human species for awhile now and i strongly believe in being frank about it. But this pessimism is not as easily quantifiable as your customary glass half empty. Instead, such pessimism is that which imputes an act like spitting, out of sheer disgust. It is like saliva that collects into your mouth, gets moulded as a spit to be darted out in a parabolic path,quite like how a rocket is shot out into the outer space. But, it is in the very drama of spitting where all its flavour lies. The gesture of spitting is extremely performative and conveys a lot. I have a feeling that spitting conveys more to the beholder of spit than to the onlooker. It is tremendously reassuring, to speak obliquely. It is masturbatory, in a pessimist-sadist sort of way, thus, to seek pleasure in expulsion of bodily fluids. So, while you hold that thought, am i saying that ‘i spit at the human race’?Exactly.
Since we can handle only so much of spitting, Christopher Nolan’s latest movie, Interstellar, thankfully is not a dive into the pessimistic glass tumbler. Yet i suspect that it is a dive, rather like a rocket’s parabolic launch into multi-dimensional vessel that is the imaginative human mind, especially towards the corner where emotion of love hides and then increasingly becomes alien, but only to be to-and-froing. Apart from all the spectacular science laden visualizations, the movie is very subtle, given its overtly poetic and allegorical contextualization. The face of ‘space-crafty science’ shown in the movie is not the usual vulgar and triumphant but bridled with doubt and folly, with a sharp zing for un-omissible grandiose. Still i maintain that it is not vulgar. However, there is a zest of curiosity, exploration and discovery at the root of the movie and as an emphasis towards the core of human existence. Interstellar ends with Earth restored to its humans in corrected dimensions and with clearer understanding of gravity and the black-holes, but centrally,with a never-ending time-travel expedition for love. What came as subtly naive and poignant simultaneously was that the protagonists ahead of timespace dimensions would not end up making Earth their home for love. The explorer in our protagonist takes him back to search for his love, which, incidentally, is no longer on Earth. He is a lover on a voyage and thus destined to be a voyeur,peeping into celestial worm-holes, looking for other dimensions where love is possible. Love is political even in the outer space.
Perhaps Nolan does not intend me to view his work with such gloomy darkness and conclude so cynically. But, I have warned the reader of occasional pessimism being sprinkled now and then. I have also declared that i shall be viewing the present murk in society from the gullible prism of depicting future imperfect. So,what you can clearly see from this window here is murky debris of lost, forgotten love and war-mongering human beings floating into the vacuum of present.
No. You are actually looking at your own social networking web-page informing about a man and a woman in love, kissing, displaying affection in a public space and consequently being beaten and driven out of the Kochi restaurant by Hindu right-wing vanguards of morality. You are aghast but not surprised. What you can also be sure to stumble upon rather frequently during these days is the John Lennon quote shared widely on news-feed : “We live in a world where we have to hide to make love, while violence is practiced in broad day-light”. You relate to this and you sigh repeatedly. Eventually there are event pages launched announcing the protest dates for Kiss of Love in Kochi, Kolkata and Delhi. There is unusual tingling and a lump in throat. You wait for the adrenalin to pump to the optimum level and some body fluids begin to gush. You then do not remain a person or a couple in love, but become an irreverent horde of slobbers eager to kiss and make love in open, defying the nay-sayers. You become multiple dimensional cosmos. Come back to saliva, this time not as a pessimistic spit. Saliva today then becomes your elixir taking you on a time-travelling joy-ride. The path of it’s trajectory is very simple: your mouth only seeks another black-hole, to suck and to get sucked into. The cosmos is a pervert to choose to have some many spots where time-space melts away. It nevertheless is masturbatory but of a celebratory kind.
zooni tickoo
13 nov 2014
Loving,making love, exhibiting affection is an extremely political act even when it is in the precincts of the personal. It is communicating in the naked, an exchange of senses. Something is achieved and something is bestowed. Partners become collaborators in establishing their statement of presence in marking a joint act. On the other hand, when in public,loving is a statement to the onlookers, communicating the irony of public and personal spaces. Hence, i feel the elements of time and space are inevitable in any politically overt act.
However, the duality of time-space is also a contraption. I call it a contraption with acute pessimism. I have harboured a quietened disgust for the human species for awhile now and i strongly believe in being frank about it. But this pessimism is not as easily quantifiable as your customary glass half empty. Instead, such pessimism is that which imputes an act like spitting, out of sheer disgust. It is like saliva that collects into your mouth, gets moulded as a spit to be darted out in a parabolic path,quite like how a rocket is shot out into the outer space. But, it is in the very drama of spitting where all its flavour lies. The gesture of spitting is extremely performative and conveys a lot. I have a feeling that spitting conveys more to the beholder of spit than to the onlooker. It is tremendously reassuring, to speak obliquely. It is masturbatory, in a pessimist-sadist sort of way, thus, to seek pleasure in expulsion of bodily fluids. So, while you hold that thought, am i saying that ‘i spit at the human race’?Exactly.
Since we can handle only so much of spitting, Christopher Nolan’s latest movie, Interstellar, thankfully is not a dive into the pessimistic glass tumbler. Yet i suspect that it is a dive, rather like a rocket’s parabolic launch into multi-dimensional vessel that is the imaginative human mind, especially towards the corner where emotion of love hides and then increasingly becomes alien, but only to be to-and-froing. Apart from all the spectacular science laden visualizations, the movie is very subtle, given its overtly poetic and allegorical contextualization. The face of ‘space-crafty science’ shown in the movie is not the usual vulgar and triumphant but bridled with doubt and folly, with a sharp zing for un-omissible grandiose. Still i maintain that it is not vulgar. However, there is a zest of curiosity, exploration and discovery at the root of the movie and as an emphasis towards the core of human existence. Interstellar ends with Earth restored to its humans in corrected dimensions and with clearer understanding of gravity and the black-holes, but centrally,with a never-ending time-travel expedition for love. What came as subtly naive and poignant simultaneously was that the protagonists ahead of timespace dimensions would not end up making Earth their home for love. The explorer in our protagonist takes him back to search for his love, which, incidentally, is no longer on Earth. He is a lover on a voyage and thus destined to be a voyeur,peeping into celestial worm-holes, looking for other dimensions where love is possible. Love is political even in the outer space.
Perhaps Nolan does not intend me to view his work with such gloomy darkness and conclude so cynically. But, I have warned the reader of occasional pessimism being sprinkled now and then. I have also declared that i shall be viewing the present murk in society from the gullible prism of depicting future imperfect. So,what you can clearly see from this window here is murky debris of lost, forgotten love and war-mongering human beings floating into the vacuum of present.
No. You are actually looking at your own social networking web-page informing about a man and a woman in love, kissing, displaying affection in a public space and consequently being beaten and driven out of the Kochi restaurant by Hindu right-wing vanguards of morality. You are aghast but not surprised. What you can also be sure to stumble upon rather frequently during these days is the John Lennon quote shared widely on news-feed : “We live in a world where we have to hide to make love, while violence is practiced in broad day-light”. You relate to this and you sigh repeatedly. Eventually there are event pages launched announcing the protest dates for Kiss of Love in Kochi, Kolkata and Delhi. There is unusual tingling and a lump in throat. You wait for the adrenalin to pump to the optimum level and some body fluids begin to gush. You then do not remain a person or a couple in love, but become an irreverent horde of slobbers eager to kiss and make love in open, defying the nay-sayers. You become multiple dimensional cosmos. Come back to saliva, this time not as a pessimistic spit. Saliva today then becomes your elixir taking you on a time-travelling joy-ride. The path of it’s trajectory is very simple: your mouth only seeks another black-hole, to suck and to get sucked into. The cosmos is a pervert to choose to have some many spots where time-space melts away. It nevertheless is masturbatory but of a celebratory kind.
zooni tickoo
13 nov 2014
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