TYLER- You buy furniture. You tell yourself, this is the last sofa you’ll ever need in your life; no matter what else goes wrong, you’ve got the sofa issue handled. Then the right set of dishes. Then the right bed. The drapes. The rug. This is how you’re good to yourself. This is how you fill up your life.
-Fight Club
It just hit me . . . People shovel their walks in cold areas during the winter because the salt dissolves in the ice and it melts due to the colligative property know as freezing point depression, that is salt water needs to be colder than 0 C in order to freeze. So when dealing with frozen food like a piece of meat that is not perfectly unfrozen would it not hold that if you were going to add salt you do it during the preparation time to speed up the thawing of the food? I think it is a good idea. Eat your heart out Food Network Cohorts.
I glanced at my watch it was now one thirty seven. Looks like you wouldn’t have made the lunch either. The dilemma struck me. I didn’t want Sarah to be set up for this and I didn’t want to kill her. That stupid bitch. Screw it, get the job done. I’d killed bystanders before it was nothing new. And hell I didn’t plan on ever seeing her again after the job was done anyway. I know the situation; I would do this then catch a taxi cab out to the country where I would meet with Sal who would have stopped by my apartment and gotten my stuff. I was clean, no problem I’d terminated a hit before and I’d keep on doing it until my number was up. Derek wasn’t a bad guy he was just related to one. Not that I was particularly self-righteous I just worked for the other bad guy, so it goes.
I screwed on the silencer. Another habit, waiting until the last minute but the barrel was too uncomfortable to carry around the other way and besides if things did go crazy the extra noise usually helped me find an out since I was the only one not surprised. I pointed the barrel three inches away from Derek’s head the hollow points in the chamber would make quite a mess but that would just delay body identification and buy me an extra few hours of time for my existence in this place to fade into oblivion. I squeezed the trigger a puff of air Derek’s head looked like cherry cobbler.
Sarah roused. She looked me directly in the eyes, there was no fear in them yet; she hadn’t noticed anything. I jerked the gun into her face and fired three shots into her.
I stood in the bedroom for a few moments. Some of Sarah’s blood had splattered onto my tie and shirt. She had actually gotten that close to me. I unscrewed the silencer and put it into my coat pocket, I holstered the gun. I walked out of the room and descended the fire escape.
In the alley I took off my tie coat and shirt. I had a grey undershirt on I untucked it from my pants and messed my hair up. Damn what am I gonna do with my gear? I put the holster on and turned the coat inside-out putting it back on. I crumpled the shirt and tie in my hand and began to walk down the street.
Ten blocks away I tossed the bloody shirt and tie into a dumpster. I hailed a cab and was on my way out of this place.
I clicked the 7th floor this time. An elderly woman was taking the elevator up to the 8th. I I knew these old elevators were in constant disrepair and she no doubt had struggled with the stairs a number of times just to get groceries, just to go on living. I smiled at her and she smiled back.
The door opened and I walked out leaving the old woman. Room 706 belonged to Edward J. Rabwinowitz, a divorced father of two boys. He would be gone today because it was his weekend with the kids. I knocked to be sure, there was no answer. I put on my gloves and removed a lock pick set. These antique door knobs weren’t much of a challenge.
I closed and locked the door. Inside I smelled the faint remnants of a Friday night pizza and movie party with the kids. I walked to the back window and opened it side-stepping my way out onto the fire escape. This side of the building faced a factory with a narrow alleyway between the two so I was still reasonably inconspicuous in my daring feat. I realized this was mighty elaborate and that perhaps I could have just came and knocked on Derek’s door but I was hoping to catch him asleep.
Moving down one flight I could see into Derek’s apartment he wasn’t on the couch. I tried his window it gave and slid open with a subtle whine. Inside, I took a moment of meditative thinking. Approaching the bedroom, I crept past dirty clothes. Derek’s bedroom door was slightly open. I pushed it with my gun and stepped into the dank yellow room. I froze. Sarah lay on the bed sleeping with Derek, their naked bodies twisted together.
“Oh shit!” I am awake. The television is still flickering; it’s dark outside. I forgot my computer. It has the files on it the information I needed to complete my job and then get out of this place. A knock at my door. “Damn,” I mutter under my breath as I get up and head towards the door. I reach for my gun which is still sitting on the kitchen counter. “Who is it?”
“It’s Sarah. You left your computer back there at Jim’s bar,” she sounded harmless enough.
I knew I was probably still a little drunk. I clicked the safety on the gun and tossed it into my brimming laundry basket it passively settled. I unlocked the door and pushed it open a sliver.
“Hello Sarah. Thanks for bringing me my machine.” I did my best to seem personable and sober. “Come in please, what time is it anyway?”
“It’s three. . . .Jeremy why did you do that?”
“What?” If I played it cool maybe she would just drop it.
“You just left like that all flustered.”
“I . . . well I didn’t think that . . .”
“You know that Derek and I aren’t together anymore? We haven’t been for months.”
“Eh sure, yeah I know that . . . it’s just . . . did you look through my computer?” I’d put a different question to her and probably just insult her enough to make her leave.
“Yeah, I did.”
She was angry, that backfired.
“You’ve got lots of porn.”
“Um sorry,” I was embarrassed, she could tell I was drunk. But had she seen the files?
“Why do you have so much information on Derek anyway?”
Shit. Wait my cover eh what was it? It was so good that I had forgotten.
“You writing something about him or what?”
Sarah you just saved me . . . or no I guess you saved yourself. Being curious can be dangerous. “Yeah . . . well no . . . just character study for a novel.” That’s right I was a struggling post-modern beat writer or something.
“Looks quite thorough. No wonder none of us have managed to read anything you’ve written.” Is she being flirtatious?
The alcohol made me want her even more. I was weary, my mind was cloudy but I knew that if I had one objective it was to get her out of here as satisfied with herself as possible. “I’ll let you be the first one to read my stuff once I have something worth showing.” Now leave dear.
“You are very strange Jeremy. I think that’s what I like about you.”
“It’s cliche all of us writer-types are notorious for being social morons.”
“It makes you cute.”
Damn is she drunk too?
“Jeremy . . . why did you leave me tonight?”
“When I get myself focused and start to study the characters in an area I try to maintain a reasonably objective point of view.”
“Why not just write about yourself? You live here too.”
“Yeah, for now. I move all over the world it’s how I approach my work. I travel to places that strike my interest and get some kind of humble meager job to pay the rent and I watch the people and I start to develop characters.”
“Huh only with us you have interacted more socially and I don’t think I know what meager job you have.”
“Sarah we’ve only briefly spoken. I think tonight there was something funny going on . . . like a full moon.”
“No it’s a new moon no moonlight at all tonight.”
“That’s funny.”
“Okay Jeremy. I’ll be leaving now since clearly you don’t want me here.”
Yeah that’s right I don’t, but I don’t want a damn guilt trip about it, I still need to be respectable for a little while longer. “Hey don’t be like that. I’ve just had a long day and I wasn’t feeling so well. I was so out of it I left my computer at the bar. How did Derek’s band do?”
“Fine. There was only a few people but they seemed to love it.” She started to move toward the door. I could catch only a bit of indignance in her voice but it was enough.
“Why don’t we meet for a late lunch tomorrow? I figure if you’re still up then you’ll probably be sleeping through most of Saturday?” This way I could temporarily appease her.
“That would be nice. Why don’t we meet at the coffee shop around two or so?”
“Sounds great. See you later today then.”
“Get some sleep,” She walked out and closed the door behind her.
I didn’t bother to lock it.
Outside I wrestled a cigarette from its cellophane and papered foil. The taste of industrial aged death. Black lung that was real. That I could trust . . . I will die and it will hurt. I am free as long as I hold fast to my own abilities, to my own self. No one could really take anything from me, good or bad. I walked off coughing in the cold. I wonder if she was sad? Probably nothing to her just some weirdo. A weirdo is harmless . . . I just want to be harmless. I don’t want to hurt anything, I shouldn’t have to hurt to exist. My feet were heavy, a dramatic cliche, it made me laugh, the absurdly predictable plight of my pathetic human condition was funny.
Four blocks only four. It had only been two minutes . . . she was probably still back there, probably moved on to some other fellow. A nice well adjusted guy with his own well defined goals and motivations his own years of honed skills and values, someone good for her someone she deserved. Nothing romantic just someone better than me. There is always someone better; life is a contest and I was better off doing color commentary on the whole fucking thing.
Alfred Hitchcock is famous for working within the suspenseful, and dark genres of horror and film noir. He had a keen ability to use the cinematography and the manipulation of mise-en-scene to create fear from the confusion, and play on that uncertainty of his characters to say something about the existential absurdity of the human condition. In Psycho one of his most famous films Hitchcock uses these tools to show the audience a world of haphazard coincidence and comment on humanity’s ultimately insignificant role in our own psychologically complicated world.
The Story opens with a helicopter shot Phoenix. We see that it has quite a metropolitan hustle and bustle as the soundtrack is filled with the sounds of automotive and human traffic. From this massive establishing shot we move in first to one area, then one building, then one window, and find one character Mary Crane. It is through this opening sequence that Hitchcock places Mary in context as but one person in a busy world; emphasizing her insignificance in terms of the big picture even in the less generic “big city” of Phoenix.
Quickly the story focuses on Mary the we get medium shots of her with an emphasis on her countenance and we try to figure out her situation and motivations. We know from her conversation with Sam that they are separated by their lack of money a dissatisfaction with the status quo is established. While talking with Cassidy about money as a source of happiness, Mary’s claim that she is not “inordinately” unhappy shows her realistic view of herself as one person in a big world of no inordinate significance herself. The temptation of stealing the money, which can buy happiness for some, is introduced and Mary’s human frailty shows through; because after all she could always be more happy. This common theme of human desperation and temptation solidifies our identification with Mary while complicating her character which makes her more compelling.
Immediately after Mary decides to take the money Hitchcock brings in the shrieking string score establishing a chaotic and frightening sound scape that though non-diegetic superbly reflects the internal turmoil of Mary. We get closeup shots of her driving along a dark and windy road. The claustrophobic quality of the shots along with Mary’s tormented expressions and the shrill soundtrack create a surreal sequence that mirrors Mary’s journey into a psychological abyss. Within the first fifteen minutes of the film we have gone from a massive city scape filled with thousands of people to the internal dilemma of one person out of those thousands. Mary keeps moving and the tension continues to build. Finally as the storm builds and the rain pours down she ends up lost. It is at this point that she encounters the Bates Motel and decides to stop.
Totally the opposite of Phoenix the Bates motel is away from the activity of civilization. Sitting next to a road of low traffic since the highway development there are few people who have much reason to visit the place. In an opposite way the solitude of the motel serves to emphasize that Existential anxiety that can afflict people when they are separated from society. This anxiety about passing time and loneliness friendship and solitude is implicit in the conversation that Mary has with Norman. Her tone and words elucidates Mary’s motivations and her attitudes about the world. It shows her as a person trying to reconcile her theft and her ideas about traps and freewill. Her conversation with Norman reminds her that she can get out of her self-made traps and so she decides to do the right thing and return the money.
Now we are relieved because Mary is relieved, her thoughtful conversation with Norman has given her hope to make things right. Hitchcock quickly erodes this relief as we see that Norman is a peeping Tom. A closeup of his eye glaring at Mary undressing through a hole in the wall shows his primitive desire and reflects the voyeuristic gaze. We are next invited to identify with this gaze through a POV shot. There is a unsettling but not whole heartedly condemning sensibility here, as Norman was earlier shown to be a shy fellow. His curiosity about the attractive woman seems harmless, since he is shown jogging back up to his house and away from Mary who he knows is vulnerable in the shower.
We next get a view of Mary from a raised angle we look down on her face as she smiles satisfyingly letting the shower water splash her. She has reached a point of satisfaction about her life she is happy and is relieved to have her guilt and fear lifted. Suddenly we see a silhouette of the mother we then transition to the POV of the figure and essentially witness the brutal stabbing of Mary from that POV and a variety of very fast cuts to heighten the confusion, tension, and violence of the sequence. The music is back again with a more violent undertone this time reflecting Mary’s fear and mimicking her screams.
And so Mary the main character dies there at the closing of the first act. An extreme closeup of her eye is graphically matched to the drain where we vividly see the black blood swirl down the drain and with it her life fading from her eyes.
Found this today something I must have had to write for some class or something, frankly it’s sickening.
IAN STROPE
6-8 years gymnastics
11 years science fair winner 1st prize invention category
13 years began flight lessons.
Won VFW citizenship award
swim team & basketball team (regional winners)
attended n.e.s.t. meeting to learn how to help during emergencies in our rural community
school conflict manager class
HIGH SCHOOL
14-15 completed ground school at local college
15 passed FAA written exam
continued to log 60 hours
including a trip to Canada
15 subscribed to several medical & scientific journals.
17 volunteered with explorer scouts -gained experience with first hand medical treatment in
emergency situations-working & riding with the ambulance co.
17 about this time started to shadow local physicians in several specialties to gain an accurate view of realistic medical practice. Including-observing several surgeries-office practice- and an autopsy. Also, the mobile medical clinic, at the homeless shelter.
17 volunteered at Northern CA. Community blood bank and was a blood donor.
17 took white water rafting course
17 attended University of California Riverside summer academy (photography)
17helped initiate book about the history of Humboldt County Doctors.
18 took EMT -1 class at local college-and was certified
18 took medical terminology class at local college
18 nominated for national young leaders conf in Washington DC
18 Golden state High honors awards.
19 Ian Strope stop sign
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE
19 became a platelet apheresis donor at Riverside blood bank (through summer break also)
19 began volunteer work at Riverside Community Hospital in the surgical recovery & emergency rooms.(through summer break, also)
19 began part time work at Dr. Eastman’s lab( through summer break also)
19 I committed to a house that involves learning how to maintain a house-pay bills-mow the lawn-cook meals -etc.
20 re-certified EMT
20 began more extensive work in Dr. Eastman’s lab-learning research techniques & skills.
21 took MCAT scored in top 3% on written component
22 received a B.S. degree in Biology from UCR.
22 began film studies program at Humboldt State University
When analyzing some piece of art for merit such as a story or a movie the first inclination is to find order, to dispel entropy and in so doing to organize the data of the piece into a category. People laugh at a stage show and see how the antics of the characters are ridiculous and exaggerated, they call this a comedy. However in the growing complexity of modern days when these categories have been delineated by critics for many decades and in some cases centuries. There appear these subdivisions of categories and inevitably the line begins to blur between genres.
Take the comedy example so if these antics are slapstick that is harmless enough but what if the jokes are organized around a political event? The Three Stooges never meet Hitler but that might have been funny. Can this simply be called comedy? It now has social commentary about relevant historical material that is not funny. OR take the example of Itchy & Scratchy on the Simpsons where the humor comes from violence, a confrontation with mortality. Of course if you canÂt laugh at death whatÂs the point? This is something that society is getting better at. This is the very root of what makes something a dark comedy; that is the subject matter deals with serious issues of life and death.
Taking the dark comedy as a spring board is it not much of a leap to then arrive at drama through the connection between comedy and tragedy? Some say comedy is tragedy plus time but in this ever accelerating world the two quite often appear as one and the same. So if we can create something that is both comedy and tragedy the fundamental elements of catharsis, the two poles on the spectrum of artistic expression then it seems reasonable to assert that genre is a moot term.
What does this do for the artist? Well, with no easy categories with which to place a product, that product can be immediately validated as “art” or it can bdismisseded as “crap” and forsaken into the void of entropy. Here is where the socio-political hand waving is most critical. In the former case of justification of a product as “art” there must not only be discourse but agreement there must be a rhetoric about the piece. This might be a “pitch” to use Hollywood terms. Now this effort of justification will thrive in the hands of a critical community with accredited critics (for whatever that means) but like in modern media, which stories get told is a political and practical decision since every story simply cannot be given such consideration.
Now it is the task of the artist not only to create from the ether, to arrive at some kind of product from the chaos, but also to justify this creation to explain something in terms of overlapping categories without betraying the creation through overly convoluted exegesis. If the product is worth much this convolution will follow and become something other people will do that will make it more than it was through critical and fan (the reason to do it) discourse. This I think is what makes something art and this I think is what makes good stuff dynamic beyond its inception and creation, giving it a longevity of entertainment beyond that of the creator. Hence the immortality thing.