Histoire(s) du Cinema -- Chapter 4(b) Part Two

continued from
chapter 4(b) Part One
http://jdcopp.blogspot.com/2006/12/godard-langlois-celan.html

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Introduction
to
a
veritable
history
of
cinema
the only
the true
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chapter 4 (b)
Part One
The Signs Among Us
for
Anne-Marie
Miéville
for
myself
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The text in red and italicized that this sections begins with is from Paul Celan's poem "Todisfugue" and in German in the original. It is from the "Paul Celan - die Todesfuge" site. The two passages in white that are italicized are in English in the original.

.
.
he writes it
when it grows dark
to Deutschland
your golden haired
Margarita
he writes it
and steps out
of doors
and the stars
are all sparkling
his whistles
his hounds to come close
his whistles
for his Jews into rows
has them shovel
a grave
in the ground
he commands us
to play up
for the dance
when
one knows
what number
of deaths
and not of deaths
symbolic
or pantomimed
but of real deaths
that pay for the advent
of one single life
one no longer cares
in any ordinary
sense
only life
refills itself
to the point
of detonation
which gives
its only sense
of this life
irreducible in every sense
it is in living

the combination

of all the powers

of the body

that life ceases

questioning

itself

and admits

itself

as pure answer

an event

which no longer even has

a need to proclaim

its assent

to itself

in order to be the greatest

of assents

nothing can

address

this relationship

of the body

to the world

the degree zero

of the other

rests

from when one articulates

the word man

but what is
Europe dying of

Dostoyevsky

born in autumn

dead in winter

but why

was he fascinated

by the martyrdom

of an innocent child

by a brute

because there need be

a russian people

in waddling

these political slaves

need to be admired

for their moral freedom

it need be that these brutes

in the hell of drunkenness

and of massacres

might be just the same

rich in an unconsciousness

which has no longer any equal in Europe

it need be that this people

capable of anything sometimes

as cruel children

and who are asleep

the rest of the time

in a frightful impotence

it must however be

that these are the only people in Europe

who still have a god

quiet down

Cassandra
as we have not

awoken

from what

for love

of what

curtain-raiser

do we strip ourselves

of our dreams

how do dare

at awakening

bear them

into the light

oh

in the light

each of us

bears

around him

the invisible dreams

the music

raises us all

to

this line of light

you know

which flickers

under the curtain

when an orchestra

tunes

its violins

the dance begins

so our hands

clasp

and separate

we look

into oblivion

one at the other

our bodies

graze

discreetly
each avoids

awakening

the other

from the dream

not let him

regain

the darkness

strip the night

of the night

which is not

the day

as

we love each other

this meanwhile is

what I love

in general

about film
a saturation

of magnificent signs

which are bathing

in the light

of their absence

of explanation

that's not said

that's not said

that's not said

that is written

Flaubert, no

Pushkin

Flaubert

Dostoyevsky

it is written Flaubert

Dostoyevsky

it is composed

Gershwin, Mozart

it is painted

Cezanne, Vermeer

it is filmed

Antonioni, Vigo

young lady

young lady

what is it

young lady

I took the shortcut

top speed

to tell you

a secret

yet one

but

what is it

the beacon lights

are out

the beacon lights

some people can sing

some can't

impossible

impossible

yes

but history

in the end

what is it

right at the end

Malraux

we sensed totally

that the game

belonged

to a domain bleaker

than the political

domain

Braudel

as we measure

the crowd of those

who deny their misery

the number of these hearts

who wish to be

themselves

to live their lives

in spite of everything
as if our life
was our own
alas
at our disposition
and this ass-wipe
Cioran
nothing of what
we know
remains
unexpiated
we pay
dearly
sooner or later
no matter what
the courage of thought
or indiscretion
of the spirit
and the young
Peguy
ah history
a somber fidelity
for the things
fallen
I warned you
witness means martyr
that it does
there
right there
do you see
Peguy
it says
today
they appeal
to the judgment of history
it is the modern appeal
it is modern
judgment
poor friends
they take me
for the judge
and I am
only the script

girl

they have raise for us
a casement
it says
we live
in a system
where we can
do everything
save for history
of what is done
where we can
achieve everything
save for
the history
of that achievement
do you see
Peguy
it says
night falls
always
an image
is not powerful
because it is brutal
or fantastic
but because
the association of ideas
is universal
universal
and accurate
I am given a name
history
and a first name
Clio
what would it have been
had it not been
a matter of text
but of movement
itself
of an idea
of reality
of life
handling
in both hands
the present
the future
and the past
a king can
conclude his reign
but one will never conclude
the history
of that reign
when philosophy
paints its grayness
in the grayness
the appearance of life
finally becomes aged
we can not revive it
with gray on gray
only know it

go
schuss, schuss
Marguerite
Germaine
happy non-birthday
Margarete
Milena
isn't it so
Djamila
I did not think
about death
there is no death
there is only
who is going to die

nothing is
as useful
as a text
and nothing is
as useful
as a word
in a text
we had nothing
save for the book
to put
in the book
so it will be
when it has to be
in the book
in the book
to put reality
and in the second degree
when it is necessary
to put

into reality
reality
that it still happens
my friend
night falls
vacations end
I must have a day
to make
the history of a second
a year
to make the history
of a minute
I must have
a lifetime
to make
the story of an hour
I must have an eternity
to make
the story
of a day
we can do everything
save for
the history
of what we do
the privilege
is for me
to film
and live
in France
as an artist
nothing like
a country
which descends
every day
by degrees on
the path
of its inexorable decline
nothing better
than a rland
ever more provincial
directed
by rotating teams
of the same incapables
dishonest
and all corrupted
from their support
of a regime
of complete and permanent
corruption
what
is preferable
to these accommodations in a domain
where justice appears
as the worst bazaar
what artist
would not dream
of such a nation
the fourth economic power
worldwide
they tell us
while its denial
is sleeping in front of our door
waiting
for a rcoin
to quiet
a little
the distress
of those who are hungry
yes
it is of our time
that I am
the fleeing enemy
yes, the totalitarianism
of the present
such that it is applied
mechanically
each day more oppressively
on the planetary level
this faceless
tyranny
which effaces all of us
for the exclusive profit
of the organization
systematic
of time unified
in the instant
this tyranny global
and abstract
from my point of view
fleeing
I try
to oppose myself
because

I try
because I try

in my compositions

to show

an ear which is listening

to time

and also try

to make it understand

and so to surge

into the future

death being already

included in my time

I can

in fact

only be the enemy

of our time

since this undertaking aims

exactly

for the abolition of time

where I see in this state

only a life

worthy to be lived

when one century

is slowly fading

into the next century

some individuals

are modifying the old

means of

survival

into new means

these are

these last

that we call

art

the only thing

which survives each epoque

is the form of art

which it creates

no activity

will become

an art

before its epoque

be terminated

afterwards

this art will disappear

it was thus that

the art of the 19th century

film

gave the 20th century existence

which in itself

little existed

men

and women

once believed

in the prophets

now

they believe

in the man

of state

nothing

is more contrary

to the image

of the loved being

other than that

of the state

whose reason is opposed

to the sovereign value

of love

the state is not at all

or it has lost

the power to embrace

before us

the totality of the world

this totality

of the universe

given

at the same time

to the outside

in the loved being

as object

to the inside

in the lover

as subject

film

thus feared

nothing

from others

nor from itself

it was not

in the shelter

of time

it was the shelter

of time

yes, the image

is happiness

but near it

nothingness lies

and all the power

of the image

can be expressed

only by paying call on this

maybe it should

be added again

the image

able of denying

nothingness

is also the regard

of nothingness on us

it is light

and it is

immensely heavy

it shines

and it is

this diffuse thickness

where nothing

appears

Emily Dickinson

the most ephemeral

of moments

possesses

an illustrious

past

But first

Elpenor came

our friend Elpenor

unburied, cast

on the wide earth

limbs that we left

in the house

of Circe

unwept, unwrapped

in the sepulchre

since toils

urged other

pitiful spirit

if a man

if

a man

crossed through

paradise

while dreaming

that he received a flower

as a proof

of his passage

and at his awakening

he found

that flower

in his hands

what is there to say

well

I was

that man
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.an