"l dreamed that John Wayne had a wonderful way
"of swinging his hips at the North Pole."
THE HlPS OF J.W.
Directed by
Let there be movement,
for stillness has corrupted us!
I would hazard the risk of revealing myself
at the risk of spreading myself thin
and losing myself
among the vulgar masses.
Look!
Out there,
between Mars and Venus,
I can still see
several unoccupied myriameters of my kingdom.
I wish to create a new world there:
from Nothingness shall it be born,
and to Nothingness shall it return one day.
The creatures that shall inhabit it
will believe themselves gods like us,
and it will be our pleasure
to watch their combats and vanities.
The world of madness
shall it be called.
What says my brother Lucifer
who shares with me
these realms to the south of the Milky Way?
Lord, brother,
your spiteful will demands suffering and unhappiness.
I loathe your idea!
What say the angels to my idea?
The Lord's will be done!
So be it!
Woe betide them who reveal their origin and mission to them.
Woe betide them who call Evil Good and Good Evil,
who make Light Shadow and Shadow Light,
sweetness bitter and bitterness sweet.
I shall call you up before the court of the Everlasting.
So, I am waiting.
Because...
do you meet the Everlasting more than once every 1 0,000 years
when he visits these regions?
I shall reveal the truth to mankind to thwart your design.
I curse you, Lucifer!
May your place be beneath the world of madness
that you may witness their torments. They shall call you the Devil.
You shall vanquish for you are as strong as Evil.
You shall be God to man, you, the calumniator, Satan!
Down with the rebel!
Forward!
Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel!
Strike... Samuel, Azareel, Mehazael!
Blow... Oreins, Paymon, Egyn, Amaimon!
O my God!
- I never noticed that tree before. - That tree is forbidden to us.
- Who forbade it? - God.
Which God? There are several.
Who speaks?
I, Lucifer, the Bearer of Light,
who wishes you happiness, and suffers for your sufferings.
See the new morning star, which heralds the sun's return!
It is my star, with a mirror that reflects the light of Truth.
Its beams, in the course of Time,
shall guide certain shepherds of a certain desert to a manger
where my son shall be born, the redeemer of the world.
Once you eat of that tree
you shall know Good and Evil.
You shall know that life is evil, that you are not gods,
that the Devil struck you blind
and that you exist merely to amuse the gods.
Eat and you shall possess the gift to relieve pain,
and the joy of death.
I wish to know and to be delivered.
Eat with me, Adam.
Woe betide us, for our joy is ended!
What happened?
Lucifer revealed your deeds to the inhabitants of the earth.
They know all and are happy.
Happy?
Woe betide them!
Too, he gave them the gift of freedom
so that they may return to Nothingness.
To die...
Very well...
Let they multiply before they die!
Let there be love!
O my God!
Since love came into the world my power is dead.
Abel, delivered by Cain, procreated with his sister.
And I wish to deliver them all!
Waters, oceans, springs, rivers,
you who can extinguish the flame of life:
Rise! Exterminate!
Woe betide us! Our joy is dead!
What happened?
Lucifer blew on the waters, which are rising to deliver mortals.
I know.
But I have just saved two of the least enlightened,
who shall never know the enigma.
Their vessel was grounded on Mont Ararat
and they have offered up holocausts.
Lucifer gave them a plant called vine,
whose sap engenders stupidity.
A drop of wine and they see what is.
The fools!
They do not know that I endowed their plant
with strange virtues:
madness, sleep
and forgetfulness.
They will no longer know what their eyes have seen.
Woe betide us! What are the foolish inhabitants of earth doing?
Building a tower to lay siege to heaven.
Lucifer has taught them to ask questions.
So be it!
I shall strike their tongues
so that their questions remain sterile
and my brother Lucifer
be left speechless.
O my doves!
Did you think that virginity
gave you wings?
Woe betide us!
Lucifer has sent them his only son.
He is teaching truth to mankind.
What says he?
Born of a virgin, this son claims to come to liberate men,
and by his own death he claims to abolish the fear of death.
What say men?
Some say the Son is God, others that he is the Devil.
- What do they mean by the Devil? - Lucifer!
I repent
of ever having created man on earth.
He has become stronger...
stronger than l.
I have no more control
over this mob of lunatics and fools.
Amaimon,
Egyn, Paymon, Oriens,
deliver me of this burden:
Topple the world into the abyss.
A curse on these rebels!
Erect a gallows on the face of this accursed planet
as a sign of crime, punishment
and suffering.
Lord!
Your cruel will and words have taken their effect!
The Earth bolts from its orbit: mountains collapse, waters rise.
There is cold, darkness, plague and famine ravage nations,
Iove turns to mortal hate, filial love to parricide.
Men think themselves in Hell. And you, Lord, are dethroned.
I finally burst a balloon!
Two!
Very good.
Help!
I repent of having repented!
Too late! All is in motion since you unleashed the forces.
I repent!
I placed the sparks of my soul
in impure beings.
Their fornications shame me as the wife
soils her husband by soiling her body.
The old man is raving!
My energy drains from me when they move away.
Their iniquity infects me.
I am tainted by the madness of my progeny.
What have I done, O Everlasting?
Have pity on me.
Because he loved maledictions,
Iet the malediction befall him.
And because he did not delight in benediction,
may he lose benedictions.
What madness!
Eternal God,
none among the gods is equal to you,
and your works are incomparable.
For you are great and you perform wonders.
You alone are God...
...you alone! - Madness!
Thus goes the world: when the gods play, mortals stray.
"God is dead." - Nietzsche.
" Nietzsche is dead." - God.
We must conclude that Strindberg wasn't really cultivated.
Consequently, even if he had met his near contemporary Freud,
he would have treated psychoanalysis as he did religion.
Strindberg had that unwieldy and slightly repellent culture
which you sometimes find among the self-taught.
Besides, when you read lnferno
you feel this is the prose of a brilliant man,
but not a great writer.
His amazing skilfulness is too glib and hot-headed,
typical of the fascinating chatter of talents
who are foreign to real culture and thus, reality.
In addition to admiring the amazing form of this diary,
the freedom of its descriptive passages and moral considerations,
you have a feeling, not of pity, but of affliction...
This wretch endured the most basic forms of clinical insanity:
insomnia, feelings of suffocation,
electrical charges in the body,
buzzings in the head,
fear of being murdered by occult forces
or by real persons
painfully reduced to the role of assassins, etc.
Too, there was also his obsession with alchemy,
the medieval quest to produce gold in a laboratory.
Strindberg's scientific knowledge was remarkable:
the pages on insects, birds,
minerals and flowers are very beautiful.
Of course. It's this feeling of affliction
that prevents us from reading this as a literary work, even a document.
Strindberg's madness is here in all its force,
naked and dreadful in its banality,
which makes Strindberg just another lunatic.
Nothing is so stereotypical as madness.
And reading the book is like living with a maniac on a day-to-day basis,
with the recoveries and relapses.
Every page that's lucid, intelligent,
full of a deep post-romantic humour
is followed by a page that stuns you.
That madness, which had seemed a bad dream,
suddenly reappears, true to itself,
incurable.
So, come to an agreement about that introduction to lnferno?
Which hell, sweetie?
The hell of heaven, naturally.
Coming to the house with us?
Thanks, but I have something to finish.
Can human beings live without religion?
Yes. It's easy for the upper classes who have the means.
For the lower classes who must fight to survive, it's harder.
When Numa Pompilius risked losing his concubines,
he made them sacred and called them vestals.
Voltaire, fearing for his writings, entrusted them to a parishioner.
If we must give the people a religion, give them atheism.
Wouldn't it be better to give the lower classes
the means of subsistence rather than a religion?
Yes.
The sated upper classes criticize the starving lower classes
for thinking only of their bellies.
And the lower classes accept the criticism.
What is politics, then?
Politics is the art of governing, or the art by which
the upper classes dominate the lower classes.
Politics also means treacherous conduct.
And international politics?
Cooperation between upper classes.
The foreign affairs ministries
are their preserve
and negotiations are kept secret.
Which is why Parliament
should deal directly directly with foreign powers.
Ambassadors and consuls are henchmen of the rich.
When you make contact with people abroad
they always check up on you at the embassy or consulate.
The answer determines the way you are treated.
If you're a friend of the lower classes,
you're considered a "shady character."
And whose friend are you, sir?
On the road to California A crab louse makes its way
It asks directions of a pecker; It needs balls where it can stay.
So, Max, grabbing some shut-eye?
Who are you?
I am Lucifer, bearer of light.
In that case,
I'm the Devil, bearer of balls!
Pleased to meet you.
How about a drink?
Go ahead, but you know I don't drink, Max.
Max?
There must be some mistake.
I had a dog named Max.
My name's Henrique.
Cut it out with your double identities! You're Max Monteiro.
All right,
if it makes you happy.
We're not going to fight
because of that. Even if I'm too old to be re-baptised.
And what's your name?
- My name is Jean de Dieu. - Henrique.
Henry? The navigator?
Don't give me that mystical sea shit!
I'm just a retired old sea wolf.
I can show you my l.D. I'm legal.
The cops love to check it.
If you say you're not Max Monteiro...
Who's he?
A mere shadow?
The actor playing God.
I was told God didn't act.
How long has he been acting?
- It's a theatre piece. - Don't know it.
I can't believe my eyes! You're a dead ringer for him!
I thought I was someone unique.
Let's be sensible, but if you're not Max, who are you?
I already told you.
So what are you doing here?
I was walking by, and I saw the boat and thought,
as the son said to the mother:
" Beneath this arcade we spent the night."
How did you put up with the bombings on Earth?
With no hard feelings, even if I've never collaborated.
I love to sleep.
Stay if you want, but it's part of the play's decor.
" Everything's a matter of decor.
" A new bed, a new body once more.
"What's the point..."
So, you're artists! I never set foot in a theatre.
I prefer movies, they're more popular.
My idol is John Wayne.
Ever since I was a kid.
I grew up with him. We've been through a lot together.
They don't make actors like that anymore.
You may be right,
but what is it about him that gets you all excited?
I don't know. Everything.
He was everybody's favourite target.
Maybe to the Redskins, why not,
but I don't think it's his most typical feature.
Basically, I think he's a warrior for all wars.
The god Mars of movieland Olympus.
I think he was everyone's favourite target,
the scapegoat who must be eliminated.
War was just a consequence
and a gauntlet he had to run.
And now, if you don't mind,
I must be going. I have a long journey ahead of me.
Where are you going?
North, young man.
Always to the North.
I search everywhere.
First a little detour,
then we'll see.
Come what may - who knows? -
I want to end up at the North Pole.
The North Pole?
I dreamed
that John Wayne
had a wonderful way
of swinging his hips at the North Pole.
The human pelvis, we know,
grew bigger and rounder with the evolution of the species.
It was the most suitable configuration
for the biped's gait
and the protection of the neighbouring organs.
With women, generally,
the pelvic opening is bigger for childbirth.
In view of the unusual structure of the human pelvis
with its 6 bones cast in a single mass
in the adult skeleton,
there's no doubt
that the hips of John Wayne
had special characteristics and determined
the way he walked,
and swung his body, etc.
On that basis, we can list all the attributes
that are uniquely his:
seriousness, grit,
tenacity, temperance,
serenity, self-control, dexterity...
In short, everything the old American cinema, like none other,
had achieved through a long physical discipline
that helped create its mythic aura,
which unfortunately has vanished today.
Well,
I find the way John Wayne moved wonderfully sensual
and wonderfully impertinent.
What are you getting at?
Well, it's like someone
sculptured to look as immutable as a god,
who just by moving,
by a slight gesture,
suddenly recovers the human aspect he'd been denied.
It's the struggle of Prometheus, and in that sense,
I agree with the Portuguese sailor:
Wayne is the one who must be eliminated.
His hips are too insolent.
His rhythm suggests rhythms
too sacred for the symphony of the world.
All I know is that, without intending to,
I suddenly found myself studying hipbones.
"The times were unstable. We sat the dead at table."
You should buy panties for the first strange woman
who rouses wild desire in you.
Miss, I want to grace your hips
with the most beautiful, most comfortable device in France.
Poor girl...
Deep down, Paul's an old sentimentalist
who's going through a crisis most sentimentalists go through:
not knowing what to do with his feelings.
Which explains the ruinous expenses for lingerie.
You sure this isn't another one of Max's antics?
Positive. I talked to his wife today. They went home together,
and from what she said, he's still sleeping it off.
In that case, you could hire the sailor
and cast them both in a Plautus comedy.
Not a bad idea. Max and his double.
I bet he's already weighed anchor.
He weighed anchor without any sails.
Anyway, it'll be easy to find him at the North Pole.
You go out, take the first right,
keep left,
and it's straight ahead. You can't miss it.
He mentioned another route.
To an asylum, I would say.
It's freezing at the Pole.
Even if he's a nut, he knows
that at the North Pole there's no John Wayne to save him,
that only the seals have a wonderful way of swinging their hips.
He must have come to his senses, called off his dream
...and gone back home. - Okay. Let's forget about it.
While we wait for the end of this story
I'll slip some fish in the oven.
The times were unstable We sat the dead at table
Wolves behaved like dogs...
Jean...
Everything you've said about writing...
Inferno...
- Is it coming along? - Sure.
And you found... Ariane?
It's hard.
Rather.
You know...
We'll continue. I think I have very good ideas.
I'm counting on you to find me a...
I'd like someone who's not an actress, a revelation...
a bearer of light.
But not a woman who's luciferian or angelic,
or archangelic. A woman. Ariane.
The kind you leave behind on the shore, in the port,
on a rock, because you know where she is.
You know where to find her.
The thread of life. Woman.
Love. And whiskey, too!
No, kidding aside...
Why'd you quit drinking, Jean? You always look so sad
when you stop drinking.
You're right. The body rebels.
Jean...
Jean de Dieu.
Speak of the devil and you see his tail!
It's a small world, Jean.
If our paths must cross, we always meet,
even when the exchange rate is bad.
True, but it's still funny. We thought you'd left.
I'm in a boarding house nearby.
Fairly clean, in fact. No bugs.
You haven't wasted time: you're getting ready to sail.
This?
Nothing at all.
Farewell, dear Portugal.
Be thou ravaged!
I go forth With rust in my teeth,
And spider webs up my ass.
What's that song?
The fado of the disillusioned Portuguese.
I am Portuguese.
I was deceived.
But why this migratory yearning for the North Pole?
North Pole?
Fuck the North Pole!
Even at the North Pole you need a refrigerator.
Of course.
It's still the best thing for deep-freezing fish.
" Rio Bravo".
"The Searchers".
He follows me everywhere.
" I'm Portuguese. Sallow and depressed.
" I'm off to Cuba to make my nest.
" I'm Portuguese. I was weaned, it's said.
" My dear Fidel: I want to go to bed.
" I'm Portuguese. I'm on a vacation.
" I got tricked into this situation.
" I'm Portuguese: I'm a bit of a slob.
"Got any change? Give me a blowjob?
" I'm Portuguese. Hold on to your seat!
" My feet hurt. Long live Magritte!"
A bit of umbrella would suffice
For a bit of paradise
She had an angelic air...
You always wake up inspired?
You call that inspiration?
I'd call that evacuation.
You're going off to die?
Too much talk hurts.
I presume I'm being nosy.
I'm old enough to have roots only where I set my ass down.
If I'm taking to the road
it's to preserve the hope of ending my days without being stopped.
Do I look like I'd jump off the Eiffel Tower?
- Do you have some serious disease? - Not that I know of.
Then, it's the torment in your soul,
an unbearable buzzing in your head
which has become unbearable.
What are you talking about?
If you want to kill yourself, why don't you?
Maybe by ending it, you're just beginning...
How'd you guess?
I didn't guess.
I let the stars guide me.
- I'd like to... - Is that true?
I had no idea.
I've been around the world, around life.
My old nurse, sing me a song.
Funny, I thought of an old movie:
A horrible giant devours explorers at the North Pole.
Unfortunately, here we're not edible. We're doomed.
Don't think of the North Pole.
If you do, you'll get nowhere.
Not even to the North Pole.
Go straight to the point: think of the river.
It's the only cinema within your reach.
Bon voyage!
I'll just finish my cigarette and I'll join you.
It's freezing!
To die, yes, but not from cold.
To die, yes, but gently.
It'll warm your insides.
I don't drink.
What? You'd fill your belly with shitty water
but you won't touch whiskey?
The first step is the hardest.
Then you'll go with a flourish.
Don't be afraid.
When we drift off, impassive like kings,
I'll tell you all about John Wayne's hips.
I'll start the countdown.
I don't count on it.
The river air gave me an appetite.
I could eat a horse.
Forget it.
Forget it, damnit! We're not here to suffer.
I quickly realized you weren't in the right state of mind.
We'll take a walk, then we'll see.
I've got a tapeworm too.
The belly gives the hour.
She loves me,
she loves me not.
She loves me,
she loves me not...
What are you up to? Are you nuts?
I pay my way in advance
with my own cash,
and I don't like anyone snooping into my affairs.
He who pays in advance is always ill served.
No one was killed.
Let's go. No more homeland.
You know,
it's all an old masquerade.
The agitators have become democrats.
"O mankind!
"We are asleep.
"The world is deep.
" Deeper than the day imagines!"