Sunday, 9 October 2011

The (supposed) power of the written word

More views of - or after - Cambridge Film Festival 2011
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)


9 October

There must have been belief in such a power in the (sixteenth or) seventeenth century (I forget which), when (by reprehensible accident) the famous so-called naughty bible was printed, which, amongst the usual commandments, stipulated 'Thou must commit adultery'.

At long last, I have seen a copy of this bible, and I also read more about the penalty that was imposed upon the printer - all of which must be predicated on the understanding that people could not infer that the word 'not' was missing, and would therefore do what the instructions on the packet stated. (It would be intriguing to know if any case is recorded where a licentious spouse pleaded the wording of this bible in his or her defence!)

From this, I jump to a review of Tirza, which - if it needs saying - rather crassly describes Tirza's father as 'a loser, a confusing low moral guy who actually just used the excuse of finding his estranged daughter in order to get over the shames and the losses of his own life'. (In the rest of the review, we are told that Tirza is 'a very boring movie that I didn't find any depth in anything', and one which is 'mixed with the past and the present, the regret, the loss, the father and the prodigal daughter, the constant flashbacks and the confusing mix ups'.)


So how do we look at each other? Do we come down hard on the printer of the bible, as a loser, a low moral guy, or on the director, for producing this very boring movie? Or do we place any store in such formulations as 'there but for the grace of God', do we have what some might call 'compassion', others 'understanding' (but does it matter what we call it?)?

As for me, to read a review like this, posted from the country of the happy ending (NB its mainstream film industry) and of hard work turned into an inevitable fortune in a land of limitless opportunities, could I not justly say that all that is just utter hokum as far as most people's lives is concerned - and, even if it weren't, would it actually make anyone (lastingly) happier? So on what is this judgement of someone else as 'a low moral guy' predicated? Who is better than anyone else - and in whose judgement?

Unless, of course, you really do believe in 'the person of reasonable firmness', a fiction to excuse people, during what is laughingly called 'the troubles', from escaping the consequences of - what were thought of as - their own actions. Would I have liked, at the risk of reprisals towards me or my family if I didn't, to try to refuse to drive a car (which might very well have had a bomb in it - why was I being asked to drive it, if not?) into the centre of Derry and leave it there?

Well, the person of 'reasonable firmness', dead in a ditch with a bullet in his or her head, wouldn't have done, so why are you so such a 'low moral guy'?






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