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Showing posts with the label James (William)

1996, the best year in movie history, pt. 80: Cure


I’ve been stumbling across references to mesmerism – in Poe, in William James. Even this month’s E. M. Forster reading, Maurice, touches on hypnotism, mesmerism’s better-regarded cousin.

This is the key difference between the practices, as I understand them. Hypnotism, to be effective, must be welcomed – or at least not resisted – by the subject. In contrast, mesmerism, due to its eerie basis in “animal magnetism,” is supposed to influence even those who resist.

Mesmerism once was widely feared. After the French Revolution,
major politicians and people in power were accused by radicals of practising animal magnetism on the general population.

In his article “Under the Influence: Mesmerism in England,” Roy Porter notes that James Tilly Matthews suggested that the French were infiltrating England via animal magnetism. Matthews believed that “magnetic spies” would invade England and bring it under subjection by transmitting waves of animal magnetism to subdue the government and people. Such an invasion from foreign influences was perceived as a radical threat.
Not everyone objected to being mesmerized. Desperate people welcomed it as a cure. Scientists lent it credibility.

No longer. Now it belongs to history – and to the horror genre.

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The distinction between mesmerism and hypnotism is blurred in the thriller Cure (1997). Subjects are induced to commit murders they wouldn’t ordinarily commit. The question is whether they murder willingly.

How different, really, are you and I from the “monsters” we condemn? This is the theme of many policing stories, and of such cringe-thrillers as Oldboy. Cure belongs to both traditions.

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Bizarre killings plague Japan. The victims are slashed with similar markings. Each killing is done by a different person.

Each killer immediately and remorsefully confesses and is taken into custody. Each killer had never done violence before. Each is baffled.

So are the lead detective, Takabe, and Sakuma, the psychologist he consults.
Even if you manage to hypnotize someone, you can’t change their basic moral sense. A person who thinks murder is evil won’t kill anyone under hypnotic suggestion.
So says Sakuma, a rather naïve figure. His manner conveys that this is the scientific orthodoxy. I don’t know if it is, but the assertion, in this unqualified form, is doubtful. People murder deliberately while believing that murder is wrong; if people act wrongly while aware of their moral beliefs – if their urges aren’t stopped by the safeguard of their own conscious disapproval – why wouldn’t they acquiesce to a hypnotist’s suggestion?

Sakuma’s personal advice to Takabe is better. Don’t let the investigation consume you, he urges; look after yourself. Not all is well with Takabe, whose wife is psychologically disturbed. His own smooth façade has started to crack.

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The investigators learn that a young drifter has been seen near every crime. They track him down. He appears to have severe amnesia.

The scenes with the drifter are, to me, the movie’s most absorbing ones. Do-gooders take him in, try to help him. Police question him. Or, rather, he questions his questioners. Where am I? Who am I? Then, after a half-dozen questions, the sequence resets: Where am I? The drifter is quiet, laconic, apparently uninterested. His failure to supply answers suggests insolence as much as memory loss. As his questioners’ frustration mounts, he imposes his own rhythm on the interrogations. Then, he flips the questions back on the questioners. Who are you? He asks about their lives, their homes. He plants suggestions. In short, he hypnotizes, or mesmerizes. I don’t know how realistic this is. I’ve not seen conversations like this in life, or in any movie. But they’re fascinating; their rhythm is … hypnotic. They’re worth the price of admission.

There are dreamlike locations, too: an empty, wintry beach; an abandoned, old, wooden dormitory; the bowels of hospitals and prisons. There are hallucinatory sequences (the halluciations are Takabe’s).

Here is a long video about Cure’s unsettling techniques – an exposition of how movies use ordinary sights and sounds to subtly re-tune our emotions.

Don’t watch it now if you plan to see this movie; do if you don’t.

The scholar

Samuel’ll endure his first school day tomorrow. Tonight he is being supplied, bathed, dressed, taught to put on new shoes, made to sleep earlier, etc. His backpack is so large and full, he barely can carry it and keep his balance.

What’ll I do at home all day with just Daniel?

Karin disabused me of this worry. I was shocked to learn that Samuel’s classes would end by 10:30. “Just early enough for the students to grab McDonald’s breakfast,” Karin noted.

Samuel’ll be driven to school tomorrow. Soon – we hope – the South Bend schools will assign him to a bus route.

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With David, I have joined a book club. Its reading list is prodding me to brush up on my Homer and my William James.

Apart from this, I’ve finished Forster’s Howards End and moved on to his stories in The Celestial Omnibus; I’ve followed the Ingallses from Wisconsin to Indian Territory and now to Minnesota, where they’re living in a hole in the ground; and I’ve reached, in Powell’s Dance to the Music of Time, a cleverly titled but labored instalment, Casanova’s Chinese Restaurant (which Evelyn Waugh disparaged, his initial enthusiasm for the series having dwindled). The narrator has spent several books detailing his acquaintances’ love mishaps. It’s some relief to think that the Blitz can’t be far off: always picturesque, the Blitz.

Picturesque, also, are the killings in the Iliad, but their sheer numerousness makes the poem tedious.

Pre-gaming

On Sunday I’ll root for the Chiefs, but these Eagles seem terrific, so I’ll probably be entertained no matter who wins. I love it when the Super Bowl is contested by the two one-seeds.

In the 2010s, these Super Bowls were contested by both one-seeds:
  • Eagles and Patriots (good game)
  • Broncos and Panthers (bad game)
  • Patriots and Seahawks (awesome game)
  • Broncos and Seahawks (horror show, but very interesting – the Broncos set passing records while getting blown out)
(The games are in reverse chronological order.)

My inbox has been flooded with articles and videos whose subject is the NFL. Here are some of the best things I’ve looked at.

(1) A video of bizarre uniforms. The Eagles’ throwback uniforms of 2007 – which hearken back to the 1930s – might be the craziest NFL uniforms ever.

(2) Malcolm Butler recalls his great moment in the Patriots’ and Seahawks’ Super Bowl. That game was played in Arizona, in the same venue as this year’s Super Bowl.

(3) This article is about how Arizona was supposed to have hosted the Super Bowl in 1993 but didn’t do so. After that state refused to observe a holiday for MLK Jr., the NFL moved the game to California.

I have more to say about the encroachment of politics upon the sporting world, but I’ll wait until next time.

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What with its pageantry, the Super Bowl tends to get me thinking about war – this year, especially, because of a classic but currently unfashionable essay by William James, “The Moral Equivalent of War.” A pacifist, James concedes that war meets a real need felt by its advocates – a need that pacifists have had trouble acknowledging and which they certainly haven’t addressed in a compelling fashion.

The essay predates WW1. James doesn’t foresee that the martial values that he describes so well – hardiness, communal glory, individual subordination – would decline, or at least fall into some disrepute, as a result of the carnage of the twentieth century. But I think he is right that they are permanent, that they point toward things that are of essential significance for humans.

Toward the end of the essay, James tries to redirect the enduring militaristic impulses. He wants them to be productive, not destructive. He seems to have in mind ventures like the Boy Scouts or the (still-to-come) TVA. He says that he wants people to band together to fight against nature, not each other.

Again, he hasn’t had the benefit of witnessing the destruction of the Aral Sea – or, for that matter, that of the Great Salt Lake.

Nor does he foresee that martial itches would be scratched, at personal remove but with clinical efficiency, by such entities as the modern NFL.

Still, it’s a great essay.