IMA’S ART REVIEW: WINGS OF DESIRE

Awed by the esoterically poetic film, Wings of Desire, upon my first viewing during college. Traveled by bus to the Uptown Theater on a dreary winter afternoon in the late 1980s and watched it with friends. It’s superbly arcane, lucidly confusing, and I was charmed. Afterwards, we went to Figilio’s and I consumed a Morte El’Chocolato, yummy decadence. Spoiler Alert: If you haven’t seen the movie and don’t want to learn about the plot, stop reading, watch the film, and then return to this blog.

The angels look concerned, yet jaded by their eternal existence. The library is their cathedral. I felt sorry for Cassiel. He seemed to be the most fretful about the plight of humans. Damiel is prepared to sacrifice eternity for a chance at visceral experiences. He doesn’t even know if Marion will love him, but he’s keen to try. What an optimist, despite knowing the imperfections of humans. Marion is bored as an aerialist. Will their ennui evaporate in each other’s arms? They seem happy the morning after copulation but long-term relationships must deal with the harshness of reality.

Wim Wender directed an classic film. The script is filled with existentialist angst, though at times it becomes convoluted and too long. Punk beat poet Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds thrash out tunes while the majority of the music is passionate ethereal vocals. It oddly fits together. Tillie, my youngest cat, is a Caver – she always perked up when the band was playing. Mr. Cave certainly looks emaciated and rather drugged out in this film. The hued scenes beautifully contrast the film noir gray tones. There is second part of the story, “Faraway, So Close,” but I have been unable to locate a copy of it at the library. I may have to rent it elsewhere (when I have the funds).

It would be wonderful if the story were updated with diversity. Perhaps it could be set in Baghdad, Iraq or Kabul, Afghanistan. Ang Lee is about the only American director with the poetic sensibility to revisit the splendor of the piece. My life span has nearly doubled since my first screening and I can understand more of the nuances. As a rather naive twenty-something, I quixotically dreamt that I could be desirable enough to cause an angel to give up his wings. I don’t believe in angels or demons anymore…

Fly with me.
© 2013 Ima B. Musing

LETTING OUT THE DEMONS

I have been reading the book “Women, Food and God” it seems simplistic but is logical. Eating is more than about the food. When you consume calories and are not hungry, food is used as a tranquilizer. I know that is true for me. After I eat, I feel all warm and fuzzy – it relaxes me and I often fall asleep after eating (even when I was hungry). I don’t binge (eat a lot of food at once) but I obviously eat more than the calories that I burn resulting in excess weight. A person can be addicted to anything: alcohol, exercise, drugs of any kind, sex, etcetera.

I have many demons. Lots of bad stuff happened to me when I was a kid. I don’t blame my parents for what I am about to divulge, they didn’t know. I don’t blame my siblings because they were victims, too. I am angry with the adult relative “Daisy” who knew but didn’t protect us. I am certain that the abuser threatened Daisy but I wish that she had done something to keep us safe.

The demon of which I write is childhood sexual abuse perpetrated by a relative, Arnold (step-family member but still considered incest). I was in college when Daisy was dying. I was chatting with one sister when I mentioned that a different sister had an odd relationship with Daisy. That is when the truth came spilling out. I was shocked but had the proverbial “ah-ha” moment. It all made horrific sense. All the symptoms were there, I had even studied them in a college course but I couldn’t see it in my own family, let alone myself. Two siblings got pregnant in high school and are highly sexualized (lots of partners). Another sibling withdrew sexually and wouldn’t let anyone touch her until marriage. One sibling won’t admit that she was abused but it could be suppressed memories or she successfully fought him off. I suspect that one or more of my siblings are now addicted to drugs and/or alcohol.

I was very young when I was abused (the bastard died when I was five) and I suppressed the memories. Thankfully, I don’t have clear memories of the abuse. I remember not wanting to be alone with the bastard, especially at night. I would scream when Daisy left the room. I also remember seeing Arnold smile when I cried in pain and the pain was in my genital area. I still have nightmares and occasionally jump when a male touches me. Damn that demon Arnold. I hope that he is rotting in hell (if such a place exists). However, demons gain power when one is reacting in a negative manner. I can only control my reaction. Must not dwell in anger…

Don’t let the demons drag you down.
©2011