As sereias (as “sirenes”) cantam insistentemente há uma semana.
Ulisses, irritado, prenuncia aos navegantes:
– Preparem-se! Vêm aí fortes ondulações!
– De bombordo ou de estibordo?
– Como posso saber? O mar que navegamos é todo o cosmos. Mas a tempestade ouve-se já no poço do navio…
«Je partage l’horreur de Michel pour ceux qui se disent marginaux: le romantisme de la folie, de la délinquance, de la perversion, de la drogue, m’est de moins en moins supportable. Mais les lignes de fuite, c’est-à-dire les agencements de désir, ne sont pas pour moi créées par les marginaux.»
– “Désir et plaisir“, lettre de Gilles Deleuze à Michel Foucault en 1977.
«The real problem I have with drugs is that it is incredibly mainstream behavior. All the drug addicts who think they are so interesting, they remind me of television. That’s how prime-time they are.»
– Vincent Gallo.
During the screening of Vincent Gallo’s “Brown Bunny” (2003) in Cannes, when Chloe Sevigny performing fellatio appeared on screen, Claire Denis immediately recognized one of the prosthetic penises that went mysteriously missing after the shoot of “Trouble Every Day” (2001), in which she directed Gallo.
Claire said she later confronted Gallo about it, but he stammered and turned away.
If Lacan had lived to know about this, he might have prefered this story to Poe’s “purloined letter”. Additionally, he might have found peculiar that the name “Gallo” is Italian for “cock”, that is, the real cock, the one that actually crows, which Vincent uses in a symbolic and imaginary way to direct American blow-jobs...
“Dead Ringers” (1988), by David Cronenberg, about Elliot (Elly) and Beverly (Bev) Mantle.
«- Something radical is definitely required. (…)
– Yes, Doctor!
– Can I trust you to do that, or have I got to sit here and watch you?
– I don’t know. Can you trust me?
– Oh, God! Don’t do this to me, Bev.
– But I’m only doing it to me, Elly. Don’t you have a will of your own? Why don’t you just go on with your very own life?
– Do you remember the original Siamese twins?
– Chang and Eng. They were joined at the chest.
– Remember how they died?
– Mmm. Chang… died of a stroke… in the middle of the night. He was always the sickly one. He was always the one who drank too much. When Eng woke up beside him… and found that his brother was dead… he died of fright… right there in the bed.
– Does that answer your question?
– Poor Elly.
– Poor Bev. (…)
– Look, don’t you get it yet? Whatever is in his bloodstream goes directly into mine. (…) Beverly and I just have to get synchronised. Once we’re synchronised, it’ll be easy.»
As a verb, ‘ring’ has long been used to mean ‘exchange/substitute’ in a variety of situations: for instance, ‘car ringing’, which is the replacing of the identification numbers on a stolen car with those from a genuine (usually scrapped) vehicle.
‘Dead’, in the sense of ‘exact’ or ‘precise’, which is demonstrated in many phrases: ‘dead shot’, ‘dead centre’, ‘dead heat’, etc.
So, ‘dead ringers’ are literally the same as ‘exact duplicates’.
“El sol del membrillo” (1992) de Víctor Erice, inspirada en un trabajo de Antonio López.
«Hasta mí llega el rumor de nuestras voces, charlamos apaciblemente. Nuestros pies están hundidos en la tierra embarrada, a nuestro alrededor, prendidos de sus ramas, los frutos rugosos cuelgan cada vez más blandos. Grandes manchas van invadiendo su piel y en el aire inmóvil percibo la fermentación de su carne. Desde el lugar donde observo la escena no puedo saber si los demás ven lo que yo veo. Nadie parece advertir que todos los membrillos se están pudriendo bajo una luz… que no sé cómo describir, nítida y a la vez sombría, que todo lo convierte en metal y ceniza. No es la luz de la noche, tampoco es la del crepúsculo. Ni la de la aurora.»