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slaygentford · 1 year

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the jdcu: a comparative analysis in fact and fiction

several months ago I watched the netflix program mindhunter. this was a normal experience until I found out it is based on a memoir -- the work of 77 year old ex FBI agent John Douglas (jd). indeed, he is the man behind every behavioral analyst character youve ever seen, most notably jack crawford of silence of the lambs/Thomas Harris's novels, which consulted him personally.

I could not believe that those jds -- jack crawford and far more, as it turns out -- were based on the same man that jd of the show mindhunter was based on. mindhunter tv's jd is like if m3gan was a gay keebler elf. his girlfriend tells him to use his womanly wiles on murderers to get them to talk! and he does so -- the harlot! I was stunned. 77 year old ex FBI agent John Douglas consented for this little freak to be his eidolon forever on netflix? who even IS John Douglas?

and so I am compelled by intellectual curiosity to ask: by watching all jds ever committed to screen, can we qualify the multitude that is jd? and, after hearing John Douglas speak on John Douglas in his own words, can we decide who among the many is the most accurate fictional depiction? to conduct this study which is a really good use of my time, we begin by sorting the fictional jds into two categories: slaygent and hard boiled detective. after this, we will compare them to jd in his own words -- that is, his memoir and his masterclass.

mindhunter tv: let us begin where the problem first surfaced. much has been said about patient zero holden ford. a youthful thirty, he begins a career of seducing real life serial killers to learn about their behavior and so forth. many times I asked: girl what kind of interview is this? in the interest of time I will simply say that this evil roomba created and defines the slaygent category.

silence of the lambs: the next logical move. here we encounter the original and most famous fictional jd: jack crawford. despite a strong effort to manufacture chemistry with jodie foster, he is sadly still a man. three words I would use to describe this jd are Svelte, Serves in a trenchcoat, and Succinct. he falls in the middle of the slaygent/hard boiled Venn diagram.

manhunter: this jack is adorned with a rare and compelling mustache. in one scene he shouts, AND I'D DO IT AGAIN! I was not paying attention at this point to what he would do again but I did not doubt he would do it. no dignity, all exhaustion. hard boiled.

Hannibal nbc: jack crawford receives a much needed reboot! Laurence fishburne gives a nuanced and honestly moving performance of a man for whom meaning is unraveling one day at a time. this jack is sartorially aware but practical, and remains empathetic despite his painful job. hard boiled

the alienist: dr laszlo is our first sherlock holmes* archetype -- somehow this has not cropped up before now. with his difficulty relating to people, his lovely coat with a fur collar, and his genuinely sharp observations, laszlo alienist emerges as a dark horse slaygent.

*due to its original publication date, Sherlock Holmes and successive properties are not relevant to a John Douglas study.

criminal minds (& related procedurals): cm's david rossi, along with his counterparts across other networks, are unilaterally hard boiled.

though hardboiled jds prevail in quantity, slaygents are not necessarily an anomaly. now the moment of truth: is the real jd a holden ford or a jack crawford?

Mindhunter (book):

while reading this book I began to feel...discomfited. and not just because it's 400 pages of self aggrandizing ghostwritten prose. something was wrong. it wasn't until, in the last five pages of the gauntlet, that it all cohered.

jd and his wife separated because work kept him away, because he barely knew his children, and because when his daughter skinned her knee he couldn't find much empathy for the scrape because of the shit he saw all day. this isnt the unmarried antisocial slaygent ford who began our odyssey. this isn't even the stylish and heterosexual Jack Crawford of silence of the lambs, nor our mustachioed manhunter. a man who lacked empathy for his child? whose marriage crumbled? who thinks shrinks are dumb as hell? whose main recourse in difficult moments is to remind himself that serial killers are nothing but "inadequate losers" -- of no inherent interest to him outside of their contributions to his noble mission to stop serial killing?

whatever answer remains, however unfuckable, is the truth: holden ford -- and indeed any slaygent -- has never been John Douglas at all. even jack crawford is barely a jd himself. we've been overlooking the real jd all along. and he was right under our noses. hiding like the adder, right in plain sight.

the bill tench paradigm shift

a chain-smoking vet whose wife leaves him because he thinks their kid sucks? an unapproachable asshole clinging to his slippery moral high ground?

target locked.

but make no mistake. this is not yet a victory. if bill tench was right before us all along, then how many jds did I overlook with my narrow definition of a jd??? has hubris bested me again? who will we find now that the truth is blown open before us? how will we wrangle this new data into a useful paradigm? what does paradigm actually mean and can I use it in a sentence like that? questions we must answer.

I propose an ontological compromise. if we set slaygent at one end of a spectrum and the true jd at the other, we may examine all jds and potential jds without compromising the integrity of the real/tench jd, AND without ignoring the fact that slaygent ford is BILLED AS jd. indeed, slaygent and jd CAN coexist -- it is only that their differences must be accounted for.

below are MANY, though not every, possible jd.

now to the final frontier: www.masterclass.com, where for the low low price of 100 dollars you can access celebrities just verbatim reading from their memoirs. literally just verbatim reading from them. like I'm not joking like you could just go to fucking barnes and noble.

mindhunter (masterclass by jd): the discovery of this masterclass was a windfall in my work (thank you cj). now, at last, to the knowledge gleaned. jd (real) is man with white hair and a very slight New York accent. he is well fit for his age with minimal male pattern baldness. he confirms everything we have discovered regarding the bill tench paradigm shift; gruff, to-the-point, sardonic. even his controlled mannerisms are tenchian.

and so I must ask: from whence did the slaygent archetype spring? and why did jd consent for the scary keebler elf to be his proxy? despite the depth of my work, I cannot access the mind of this man, nor the circumstances which gave rise to these anomalies in the continuum.

still. in the indefatigable spirit of jd himself, I feel a theory nipping, nibbling at my ear. I mentioned sherlock holmes before, and now some unwanted voice within me calls out that very name. is it Holmes who shapes the slaygents into his image, even from beyond the grave? has all of this been a prelude to the real work -- the work of examining and classifying every Holmes committed to screen?

like vercingetorix, exhausted by the struggle, here I toss down my arms. with or without me, though, the jd quest continues. what doors remain unopened? what slaygent homunculi lay in wait behind them? and what will become of us, if we knock?

#well

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dudewhoabides · 1 year

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Although an initial release date was anticipated for early 1943, the film "Casablanca" premiered at the Hollywood Theater in New York City on November 26, 1942, to coincide with the Allied invasion of North Africa and the capture of Casablanca. It went into general release on January 23, 1943, to take advantage of the Casablanca Conference, a high-level meeting in the city between British Prime Minister Winston Churchill and American President Franklin D. Roosevelt.

The Office of War Information prevented screening of the film to troops in North Africa, believing it would cause resentment among Vichy supporters in the region.

On March 19, 1943, the film was banned in Ireland for infringing on the Emergency Powers Order preserving wartime neutrality, by portraying Vichy France and Nazi Germany in a "sinister light". It was passed with cuts on June 15, 1945, shortly after the EPO was lifted. The cuts were made to dialogue between Rick and Ilsa referring to their love affair. A version with only one scene cut was passed on July 16, 1974. RTÉ inquired about showing the film on TV – it still required a dialogue cut to Ilsa expressing her love for Rick.

Warner Brothers released a heavily-edited version of "Casablanca" in West Germany in 1952. All scenes with Nazis were removed, along with most references to World War II. Important plot points were altered when the dialogue was dubbed into German. Victor Laszlo was no longer a Resistance fighter who escaped from a Nazi concentration camp. Instead, he became a Norwegian atomic physicist who was being pursued by Interpol after he "broke out of jail." The West German version was 25 minutes shorter than the original cut. A German version of "Casablanca" with the original plot was not released until 1975.

A remembrance written for the 75th anniversary published by The Washington Free Beacon said, "It is no exaggeration to say 'Casablanca' is one of the greatest films ever made," making special note of the "intellectual nature of the film" and saying that "while the first time around you might pay attention to only the superficial love story, by the second and third and fourth viewings the sub-textual politics [of communitarianism and anti-isolationism] have moved to the fore."(Wikipedia)

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

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Chapter 5

WC: 1526

Rated: M

Chapter Tags: angst, mentions of physical congenital defects, name calling, Freud, mention of psychological disorders, mention of disabilities

🧠

Maybe it was naïve of you to hope for an apology from him after the incident in the classroom. He was a dick, after all.

Six weeks into the term and things had not gotten better, but in fact much worse. Every little thing he did drove you up a wall. He would talk to himself out loud about who knows what. He would ask you your thoughts and opinions on the theories he studied, and then try to challenge everything you said. He would make you feel small as he spoke down to you or he would laugh at your ideas. He would ask for help with the dumbest things too, like picking up pens and typing up all his notes. And worst of all, he would just watch you. It probably wasn’t really all that creepy, he didn’t actually give you those vibes, but you felt like a bug under a microscope.

The only time you could tolerate the doctor was when he was giving his lectures. It was like he was a totally different person. Gone was the calculating and stubborn doctor, and in his place stood a thoughtful, passionate, intellectual that tried to see the world from as many facets as possible. He was so incredibly open minded. You'd even seen him crack a smile or two.

You wondered what he might be like if that was his personality all the time. Would the two of you get along better and argue less? Would he think more highly of you, and not just as some dumb assisstant? You doubt it.

“-And then he handed me a stack of notebooks and asked me to type everything up. All his handwritten notes. Like oh my god, get with the times and just type them the first go yourself.” You were set upside down on Bitsy’s bed. This week Kreizler had amped up your workload, so of course you had to vent to your friends.

Feeling the blood pool in your head you roll over and sit up with a huff. “He’s just so strange… and he’s left handed but to the extreme. I don’t think I’ve seen him use his right hand once the entire time we’ve worked together. Like how odd is that?”

“Maybe he’s got OCD or something?” Margo, your mutual friend suggests.

You contemplate what she said. Perhaps he did have something else going on? The more you think about it the more you realize he really didn’t ever use his right hand; when he asked for your assistance it was always for a two-handed job. Perhaps… You are broken out of your trance when Bitsy interjects.

“You need to either find a new hobby to distract yourself or you need to hate-fuck the guy already.” She doesn’t look up from her phone.

Her comment catches you so off guard you choke on your own spit. Margo pats your back as you overcome the coughing fit. “Bitsy what the actual fuck?” She just gives you a ‘what?’ look. Clearly she’s grown two heads to even consider suggesting that to you.

“It’s not so crazy. You like older guys, you said it yourself that he’s smart and he’s cute. Maybe this is what you both need. Get out some frustration.” She tosses her phone to the bed. “And to be honest I’d like to be able to talk to you about literally anything other than how much you can’t stand the ‘good doctor dickwad’.”

Your mouth is gaping at her in your shock. Her words settle in you like a bag of rocks. “Oh my god I really do talk about him that much don't I?” Shame and embarrassment wash over you as you realize that yes, the majority of your day is spent complaining about Kreizler. “I’m sorry guys, I’ll make an effort to tone it down.”

“It’ll probably help with the stress too if you stop,” Margo adds.

“That and getting dicked down - how long has it been for you?”

“Yeah no,” you get off the bed and walk out of the room, “I’m not answering that.”

“Too long then!” Bitsy calls after you with a laugh.

He really thought he had been doing better with you. He couldn’t say you were his favorite person by any means, but you were proficient at your job and the tasks he gave you. A hard worker. He tried to engage in friendly conversation or to talk about the lessons he was planning with you. As little as you had actually studied psychology he found your insights to be most interesting and enlightening. He actually enjoyed it.

You, on the other hand, apparently did not.

Today was going the usual route - he attempted to engage you in discourse; you were determined to defend and fight your way out of it. Oddly enough, for as much as you loathed talking with him you were always giving him your opinion on things.

“How could you be so base to believe that? We are all individuals with our own wants, needs, and desires, sure, but to only be subject to that? To have no freedom or choice in anything we do or say? It’s ridiculous.” You sat with your arms across your chest, a sneer on your face as you argued with him.

His face remains calm through your tirade. He himself took Freud’s work with a grain of salt, but he was interested in your reaction to his questioning. So he pushed you. “And yet you sit here now with the most basic principle being exhibited - the presence of Freud’s Id hard at work - as you become frustrated and angered by my words. Is that in itself not the desire to let anger take control? Acting without fear of consequence? To be exactly what you now claim is ridiculous?”

You scoff. “No, Doctor, because I’ve chosen to not put up with the bullshit. I choose of my own free will.”

“But what is free will, if not chained to our deepest desires and fears? Us acting on the primal needs within us so out of our control? You have no choice in the matter, only impulse. Nothing you choose matters, you are inconsequential.” Laszlo found that he liked to rile you up. You were more forthcoming in your ideas and defenses; a worthy partner to discuss psychological theory with. But today he had pushed you too far.

By this point you had had enough. His constant instagation had driven you to the end of your rope. In reality it probably wasn’t that bad, and you really weren’t that confrontational of a person. But god, with him you just couldn’t seem to hold yourself back. He drove you up the wall.

“Is that what you want? To study me like your little project, seeing how you can get me to crack? Your own personal basket case to psychoanalyze? What - does that get you off at night or something?” You don’t even care that he’s your boss anymore or how inappropriate your suggestion is. If he can push and push and push without regard to what is considered socially allowed then you’d be damned if you didn’t too.

His face is merely curious, a hint of a smirk on it, as you all but yell at him from your desk. He sits back, a pen in his left hand, his right resting atop the desk. You notice his right thumb twitch.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” blurts from your scowled mouth. You don’t know why you ask. Maybe his idea about being chained to our deepest curiosities, no matter how questionable, had some weight behind it.

"I beg your pardon?" His eyes change the second the question slips from your lips. No longer is he eying you with amusement, but he looks as if he might snap at any second. His face is hard, you can see his jaw clenched under the full beard he sports.

At his reaction you know that you screwed up. You never should have said anything at all. Sure he could be as rude as the day is long, but he wasn’t necessarily a cruel man. He had little moments where he was genuinely kind to you. He even made you tea once.

“I’m sorry- I…. I don’t know where that came from. It was inappropriate of me and I apologize, Dr. Kreizler.”

The silence that overcomes the room is deafening, so unlike the boisterous discourse that was taking place a moment ago. You turn away hoping to resume your work. You even take a moment to pray to whoever is listening that you didn’t just get yourself fired.

“It was a congenital defect.” You turn back towards him, but he does not meet your eyes. He speaks low again. “My arm never developed correctly so it is weaker and has less function. That is all.” You nod at him, swallowing. The look in his eyes does not match what he tells you. He has the look of someone haunted by their past. It is a look you are all too familiar with yourself. You both finish your work in silence.

Tag list

#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle

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cazimagines · 3 years

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Okay, your headcanons are giving me life.

Can I please request one with Laszlo Kreizler being completely sapiosexual about his new partner loving to share ideas, theories, pushing each other to improve.

Awh thank you!

Laszlo Headcanon:

- Laszlo was blown away when he first met you, often when walking into a new place people tend to fawn over him and his work but you were different. You looked up and him and looked at him like you were debating if talking to him was worth your time. While he tried to speak with you, you were walking around finding books for your research. It infuriated him at first but at the same time his interest was peaked in you

- You offered to help with the cases of trying to find the boy murder and Laszlo was excited to have you on board. No offense to John but while he appreciated his conversations they were never as intellectually stimulating as they were with you

- Often you two would find yourselves working late into the night trying to figure out the mind of this killer. You would toss ideas to and throw to each other about potential leads, meanings behind the letter he had received

- Laszlo would try to impress you by quoting recent articles he had read about the human psyche, you would impress him back by correcting him on the information he got wrong

- He saw himself a lot in you, but at the same time found you so remarkably different. While his main desire in solving this crime was to understand the human mind, you were always concerned about the boys. He admired that goodness in you. He had often found it hard to balance his need to understand everything and being empathetic but you practiced it with ease

- While he was often the one talking to people about their problems when it came to you suddenly he was in the opposite seat as you listened to him confess things he hadn't told anyone, things about his father, about his arm. He couldn't understand what it was about you that compelled him to feel so open when he had never felt that way before

- When you had first met him you thought he was the same as most alienists, arrogant and thinking they understand all. But what drew you to him was when you heard about the institute. You'd always had a fondness for children and seeing him look after, trying to help them and help solve this murder case stirred something in you to want to know this man more

- You two would often get into debates, throwing around all sorts of technical terms which just confused poor John who got caught in between. From an outsiders perspective, it would have seemed as if you two positively hated each other however for both of you these debates could well be considered foreplay

- Slowly you two grew closer, he would sit by you, gently letting his arm rest against yours as he tells you about his new theories, you would help him with his needs when he struggled with his hand while reminding him of all the remarkable people in history such as Beethoven who didn't let their disability get the best of them. Together you two grew from each other, always introducing each other to new perspectives, and to love

#laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler headcanons #laszlo kreizler imagine #laszlo kreizler x you #the alienist #daniel brühl

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

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The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and sex. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: The story is placed between season 1 and season 2. Thank you for everyone that encouraged me to keep going. I have to wait for my local drop of serotonin to get fully Laszloed to go through this.

Lyra’s Contellation, Illustration taken from Uranographia by Johann Bode

Routine. Routine is comfort. Habit stabilises the character.

If you follow a routine, you won’t ever be victim of imprudence, of evil jokes of fate. The stability earned through calculated and repeated actions brings a sense of fulfilment that forbids other thoughts to come bashing in, breaking rules, breaking hopes that a solid scheduled routine forbids to have. I take my time to begin this week, I planned the things to do, the next steps for the case, the people to meet, the resources I am allowed to contemplate. I feel good, I feel back to myself and the events of the weekend seem far from me and my own perception. I probably got ahead of myself, carried by some instinctual though and random rush of emotion, to be always in contact with the same people and mostly kids probably doesn’t help my stance in the presence of other adults. I feel silly now reading back the last page, I felt tempted to tear it off, but to keep it there should be a small memento of not losing my temper so easily. I read it over and over and I know I am not as charmed as I thought I was. I am just lonely. I have always been and it is normal to face ups and downs even for a man of my age who is more accustomed to it. To desire a partner is a natural instinct, to find somebody attractive is meant by nature, it is the body calling for the natural fulfilment of the reason we are put on this very Earth. But even in a state of nature my own condition would be forbidding me to be part of the natural process of growing my own kind. I am the type of male that would be excluded because of his impossibility to give the protection to the pack, therefore it is just more reasonable to me to adapt to my condition. No matter what my Potentia generandi might be (the ability to procreate).

With all the smugness that characterises him, Niki showed off that he passed my challenge. But to be really of an help to his antics I didn’t show any kind of surprise. I treated him like he did the bare minimum, like he didn’t prove me any kind of superiority. He has a natural attitude toward challenging the figure of power, he is trying to overpower me, but I won’t satisfy his need. I have noticed he has a very technical brain, he finds ways to solve problems in ingenious way and not by throwing himself into the task. I proceeded giving him to work on a clock, an old broken one we had in the institute, one of the kids hit it with a ball years ago and nobody ever worked on repairing it. I gave him the clock, a couple of screwdrivers and a book. He called me a number of German names I won’t transcribe, but it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. If my intuitions are right, I am sure the clock will be repaired by next week.

Analysis of the victim’s body through John’s eyes. The drawings and sketches are as detailed as I requested, all of this thanks to you joining him. I deal with art critic section, I am used to notice these things. You assure me, you play yourself low and I wonder why, nevertheless you did notice things neither John or I did, which pleased me. It fooled me, distracted me from my purpose to not give in to your witchery, as I leaned closer watching your pale hand move across the pages tracing this or that line, showing how this must be done with the killer on this side and not that side, with words so deliciously elaborate, your way of composing your speech is compelling, you could sell the drawing of a kid like it was a Botticelli. I noticed the shape of your hands, the way you move them, I wonder if you play an instrument, or played, some habits just stick with you through life. I focused on taking notes, your ideas and instructions giving me a new point of view, a new stimulus. What if that is the only way the killer can communicate? Or what if this is the communication that works for him? Could our killer be mute or deaf? Or that’s how society made him feel? This man, or woman, needs a listener and I am afraid that now, since he got our attention and the public’s, he won’t stop. Another killing could be just as close.

Scheduled: meeting with the parents of Alex Garel for new admission, Monday next week at 11 am. Love at first is a fetish and like all fetishes it is based onto an object that hides a deeper meaning, like gloves mean hands, to love at first sight means to see somebody that you think, and think only, to have the chance to share not only a sensual kind of bond, but an intellectual. Love at first sight is based onto not knowing someone well enough, but having the time to idealise most of that someone. I can see why I feel this attraction, using a particular phrase that Sara often mutters when investigating: you tick all the boxes. I know you do, your beauty is everything but conventional, you’re the kind of face that painters would paint and musicians would write hymns about, but any animal on the street would never be allowed to see. You have the grace of the body and the fire in the eyes, and then you speak. When you speak, I realise, you could bring the world to its knees. Also, you never speak out of context, and if you do it is to ease somebody’s position. You do it often with John or with Stevie, you say something really silly in order to put them back to a place of comfort. Some women would call it self deprecating, but I see that you only pick wisely your fights and your wins. You don’t need to earn your peace and quiet by neglecting, but by lifting up the others. I wonder if you do it with me too, if your silences are just you allowing me to be in a better place while instead your judgment is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care, but I keep wondering, sometimes I take my time to answer you, I analyse every shade, every peculiarity of your question, I am looking for sarcasm, for a condescending voice, for something to hang on and bare you open. To prove myself you’re not perfect. But deep down I know that you do, you judge me and you do well.

Mother never said so. That’s what one of the girls in my care said today. Ursula. She is tough. Skin as thick as an alligator and the tendency to pull her own hair at night or when under a massive amount of stress, enuresis alongside erratic episodes of mutism. I tried the soft approach, it didn’t work. She is too accustomed to be indulged. Therefore today I pushed her a bit overboard, I teased her over opinions on the female body, the female role, she is only 12, but she is soon to bleed, she knows, I can tell from the way she clenches to her skirts, from the way she looks at me as a threatening figure. I am the incarnation of danger to her. Under her steady silence, I pushed a bit more, asking how her mother taught her to be nice and submissive. Does her mother tells her she is going to be a good wife? The phrase, which I reported at the top of the page, surprised me. What is her mother teaching to her then? What closed her so much, locked her soul away, making a small bird like this choose the silence and the retirement of self inflicted pain over, what? Mankind? Or just Men? Is that even a curse? Should I cure her from a truth that her own mother whispered to her ear one night before bed and made a child decide that the world wasn’t a place to share her time with? Am I the man supposed to teach her that men are worth of trust? In the eyes of modern society, who measures its own value over the modesty of the women, she would be a champion, but at what price? I can’t in any way let her parents bring her back home after our recent meetings. Nevertheless, I have to make up my own mind on how to give her troubled soul ease without making her believe in fables. I, as a man, regard myself not worth of any of the trust they expect me to teach her.

In all of my years practicing with people’s feelings and traumas, I challenged myself to find those same traumas within my own mind. It is a tricky game, terrible, anguishing at times. But it straightens me, the pain of others, the pain of kids mostly, so unadulterated and pure, breaks the curtain between me and the lies that I often surround myself with. Pain is made of method, you can open it up, you can scrutinise it, part it piece by piece dividing it in sectors and, partitions, centre part, side part, heart of the problem. Pain is reliable. Happiness is not. It is random, cruelly sudden, unexpected, it washes over you in such deflecting way only to leave you alone a moment after ashamed and alone. I saw you again today. You were in a table full of what I could only guess as your former university colleagues, I saw pain in you, not heavy but constant. Annoyance, a bit of sadness. Your head titling on side and your eyes drifting on the left, you’re imagining something away from them. A place? An object? Or maybe someone? Your hands play circles at the bottom of the flute of your drink like kids do, your smile only one sided. I don’t see you speak at all, only listen. What could keep your voice down? I almost gulped down my own breath as you looked up and I realised how I must have looked. I was having lunch on my own, in a very private table and even entertaining myself with a newspaper on the side. I wish you didn’t, but you came over, your eyes shining. Did I save you? Or maybe I was just a good excuse to leave that painful meeting behind. Don’t be so nice to me, it is not healthy. Don’t look at me like you expect anything more from me than me listening. I won’t smile back at you, I won’t give you care, attentions or thought. I won’t lean for your perfume, I won’t obsess over that dress you wore, that pin that adorned your neckline keeping your undershirt in place, a silver robin, I remember. I won’t remember the number of the buttons on the side of your glove, three. I won’t observe the little moles just under your ear. A small constellation, I later realised, hidden between your ear and the beginning of your neck. I don’t need to check in my books. It is a constellation. It is Lyra. Why? Why you must be like this? Are you the Lyra? Are you the instrument of Orpheus come to me to drag me out of Hell? The Tartarus holds my soul and you should know already, I am not worth the quarter part of Eurydice to be saved and she never came back anyway. I won’t be now recollecting the way your teeth sunk in the inner side of your cheek when you apologised for the annoyance. You apologised twice, I ignored you both times with a raised hand to request peace and silence. I am not letting you in.

Reserved: Tickets for Wednesday’s evening Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The guest female lead promises a beautiful show.

Leonardo, as I am learning through Paul Valery essay, is who I would define as a figure of projective identification of the Subject or, to better explain it, of the knowledge of the Subject that formed and grew through the use of sketches in the experience of the Artist. I have always thought that the finest form of art was the representation of knowledge duly undressed by any personal identification. Leonardo, instead, proceeded to represent the figure through the essence of the artist, a representation technically unlimited on objects and symbols and that keep expressing the transformation and development of Leonardo’s own being.Some artists are testimony of the destruction of the world, of the loss of eternal beauty over decadence. And then you have Leonardo, who creates an art that is the gravity of the world’s system, of the nature, of thoughts and abstractions. I wonder if our killer does the same, if the way they presents the victim through their own personal view, if what we can read there it is their stories, their pains, their needs. Their happiness and troubles. What are they trying to tell me? I need to know, I need to know to save a life, of course, but I also need to know to be able to sleep at night. Hair, hair are the epitome of femininity in any era. I keep studying Ursula and her habit to pull the. I took notes on it: she picks them by the bottom, slowly separates them until she gains an amount her mind defines satisfactory and then she rolls her finger and pulls, she does it until her finger is empty and there are no hair left. I find her process incredibly interesting. In men’s case the display of physical attributes is not as vital, a beard can be appreciated but does not modify the power of seduction of a grown man. On the contrary, for women hair are a vital part of their attractiveness toward the opposite sex, society sees the hair of a woman as part of their vital characteristics, also in ancient times for a woman to cut her hair or have her hair cut was a sign of deep separation from the society. Only heroines or whores wore that mark and the association of the two is so rooted into the way society always parted the role of a woman in two that it is nauseating to think of. I am still fearing to let Ursula go away, the repulsion that she is showing toward her own body makes it difficult even for me to crack her shell open as a man, but my deepest worry is when that hate will take a scarier and deeper tool on her. How a girl with such a fear of what her body can do, like sex or pregnancy, can endure in the future to have an husband? Or even to be courted by anyone?

John is helpless and I admire him for that. He doesn’t hide it, he just is. He is vulnerable and exposed, he is an open well bursting with doubts and feelings and troubled waters. He is genuine in a way I could never be. Maybe that’s why I despise even more him talking about you, how he sees you every morning, how you greet everybody, how you behave even with interns, how you like your coffee. Your talents, your wits, how you said this and acted like that and reasoned through him. How you forbid him to drink even when he felt tempted. How you stayed late over to help him collect all the informations I requested him to get. To him. Not to you. The evil demon of envy scratching in the back of my head screaming like a siren out in the sea, he demands to be heard, he demands to be allowed a part in this game. I won’t allow him that. I won’t allow myself any of that. This is a pure game of chess, if I give in a pawn now, I will lose my knight, and I know it. I advice him to not be so closed minded when he praises you, only to get surprised by the charms of a natural logical mind. I find a way to hurt him, he is an easy target, I look at him as his eyebrows twitch and he summons his patience on me. He lost the plot about you already, his bruised pride taking over. You won’t come into my life.

“Un dì, felice, eterea, mi balenaste innante, e da quel dì tremante vissi d'ignoto amor.” (“On a day, happy and ethereal, you appeared in front of me and from that day, trembling, I lived on an unknown love”)

The words of Alfredo in the first act of the Traviata keep running through me, a chant that won’t let me go, almost painful. The Opera House, that was my hiding place, a place where in plain sight I could let out myself, unleash. The catharsis of the characters involved running through me, I didn’t need anything but their voices and those musical instruments to let out my fears, doubts and anger. When Alfredo came to the scene tonight, the lights were strong and slightly pinkish, the performer bursting out of the seams with passion. My eyes diverted only to see you there. Alone. Those blinding lights gave you the the radiance of a vision singing the notes of greek myths and heroes, that dark blue evening clothing rang through my eyes like it was a bright yellow, the little shiny details that adorned you so clear against the heavy lighting to look like transparent pieces of water collected to adorn your beauty. I wasn’t me, but Alfredo, and I was helpless against you sitting so far and yet too close from me. I was naked in front of thousands. I am aware of the effect you have on me and our last conversation was barely regarded as one. This is infatuation, this is the pure work of a lonely mind and not something worth of any of all the words that I am dissipating here. Yet. I saw you cry at the climax of the opera, Violetta, the protagonist, heartbroken falling on stage consumed by pain and regret for her lost love and ultimate sacrifice. Your eyes shone as you tried to hide the tears and collect yourself. Through my binoculars, I saw your throat tremble and gulp down something more than just a sigh of pain. Your jaw clenched, your gloved hand moves to hide your shaking lips. I reckon, I have never seen such sad lips look more inviting. You look at the wall on your side breathing through your nose and not even that can save you by the strength of the voice of the soprano. You’re defeated and so you brought a fine silk handkerchief to your eyes, your shoulders bent inward in self defence. The Opera won. It won you like it always wins me. I wonder if you felt like this because of a past lover, somebody that broke your heart and made you feel wrong in any way. And because of that little wonder it is even more clear to me why I am a man worth of no trust. Because for a moment, I know, I wished to be the one that broke your heart. That gave you just the pain you’re inflicting on me so mercilessly by offering intoxicating kindness and beauty. To own your thoughts, tears and shame. To be the one man you have to look away from. I want to own all of that and, maybe, I will be freed of you the day you’ll be just another human being that hates Dr Laszlo Kreizler.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone

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#the diary of doctor laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler headcanons #thealienist #the alienist fanfic #the alienist fanfiction

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tessaadad-blog · 6 years

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A2 Statement

This work was inspired by one of my previous works and its meaning. I have further explored the relationship between the Old Masters and their apprentices and contemporary society’s artist’s assistants. For this work I acquired some workers to assist and collaborate on the physical piece, with the final work being a film of the processes.

My friends came over on Saturday night, we talked about what had happened in the past week, anything we were worrying about and things we are looking forward too. We ordered some takeaway and drank some wine. While doing this, we were mixing colours and painting pieces of paper. This formed the first phase of the process.

For the second phase, my dad and I got a piece of MDF board from his workshop and made a compass out of another piece of wood and a nail and began drawing out the circle for the base of the work. Then on Sunday night, over dinner, my family and I began shredding up the pieces of paper my friends and I had painted the night before. My family have dinner together every night where we talk about our days, about things bothering us and things we found funny. After ripping the pieces up, we glued them onto the MDF board to create a colourful and collaborative artwork. Through this process I recorded and documented the stages through photography and film, directing the work throughout each phase.

This work goes beyond social expectations, opinions and beliefs; the work is completely faceless, allowing the viewer to focus solely on the experimental and collaborative nature of the physical piece. Through the processes my apprentices learnt and developed their own skills, asking questions about the process, outcomes, techniques and thinking of the work.

Through this work, and in relation to my previous work, I have made the invisible, visible. Through the recording and actual final work, I was able to document the labour and collaboration that goes into art such as this. Anders Orom describes the term documentation as covering ‘both the process and the product’. This concept explores the notion that art is about the process as well as the final piece. Robin Nelson explores the idea that ‘the critical engagement entailed in the process of documentation… can yield valuable insights into the processes of making in different arts, and ultimately leads to more refined arts practices.’ By documenting the process and the people and labour involved in the process, the viewer is able to know not only about the meaning and artists intentions but the work that went into it. To add an auditory element I added sound clips together to symbolise conversation and atmosphere.

This work also explores the concept of smaller communities within larger ones; the individuality of each piece of paper coming together to create a larger community. In my communities, I know I can express my thoughts, opinions and feelings. The colours of the paper have dual meaning, they can represent people or communities within the larger community or symbolise the feelings and emotions that are felt within communities.

Challenges that can be faced within these collaborative works are the restrictions put onto the assistants. Are we allowing the full potential of all involved to be translated into the work if the old master/ artist is in charge of the meaning? Are they present during the making stage of the work, are they working alongside the assistants? A contemporary solution to these problems is for the collaborators to communicate with each other and for the artist to welcome this input. Other challenges can be when work hasn’t been credited. A famous art collaboration between Laszlo Moholy Nagy and Lucia Moholy; while they were married they explored and experimented with photography. This work resulted in a book titled Painting, Photography and Filmwhere Moholy-Nagy was the only one credited for the collaborative work. An exhibition at the MOMA in 1938 feautured 50 pieces of their joint work where again she was not credited. Challenges faced by collaborative works can be ensuring the rights of someone’s intellectual property is respected.

Collaborations within art can benefit both sides, in Andy Warhol’s biography the relationship and many collaborations between himself and Jean-Michael Basquait are described as ‘symbiotic. Jean-Michel thought he needed Andy’s fame, and Andy thought he needed Jean-Michel’s new blood. Jean Michel gave Andy a rebellious image again.’

Collaborations within art allow artists to transcend the invisible barriers put on artists within different fields or skillsets within art; these collaborative works then are able to create exciting and reactive works unseen before.

http://artistsinspireartists.com/painting/good-bad-andy-warhol-jean-michael-basquiat-collaboration

https://www.agora-gallery.com/advice/blog/2017/04/27/famous-art-collaborations/

https://www.tate.org.uk/research/publications/tate-papers/29/documentation-and-the-information-of-art

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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What We Do in the Shadows Season 3 Episode 5 Review: The Chamber of Judgement

https://ift.tt/3ARrWwt

This What We Do in the Shadows review contains spoilers.

What We Do in the Shadows Season 3 Episode 5

The vampires get back to their official duties on What We Do in the Shadows season 3 episode 5 “The Chamber of Judgement.” Nandor (Kayvan Novak) and Nadja (Natasia Demetriou) are poised to take the throne at the center of the judicial altar in the subbasement office of the Vampiric Council. They poise for quite a while. So long, in fact, it becomes unjudicial.

The battle over the top seat in the council is as petty as it is essential to the proceedings. One of the unsaid traits of the undead on What We Do in the Shadows is the vampires, besides never aging physically, don’t really seem to age emotionally or intellectually. They love their toys, any sense of ritual, glitz or shiny things in general. In the opening episode, Nandor couldn’t get enough creepy paper. When the rogue vampires declared independence from interpretive dance, Nadja made it a specific point from which they would never be freed. She is proven correct as the dance which opens The Ceremony of Judgment is cosmically confusing but comically utilitarian. The seat at the throne means a lot, but familiar-turned-bodyguard Guillermo (Harvey Guillén) wins the childish game of king of the kill by a default of his own.

I am absolutely enthralled by the relationship between Guillermo and the floating vampire Dark Shade (Kristen Schaal). Sometimes it appears like she’s flirting, sometimes she’s threatening. Sometimes the threats are sexy, and most of the threatened sex is downright dangerous. Dark Shade is throwing off some heavy vibes. Shaun (Anthony Atamanuik), who is Laszlo’s (Matt Berry) best human friend, thinks Nandor and Guillermo are lovers. But he also thinks Colin Robinson (Mark Proksch) is either related to “Robinson Caruso” or is lost in space, and that an advertisement on a box is a legally binding document.

We have to wonder if Shaun ever really got over the brain-scramblies from last season. He seems a little too open to too much, and it may be a case of post-double-hypnosis trauma. In “The Casino,” it appears he’s just got a gambling problem. He drops everything he’s got, and when Laszlo stakes his losses, Shaun still puts it all on one number at a roulette game.

This week, during “boys only night,” Shaun steals the underwhelming thunder of the great psychic vampire himself, Colin Robinson. What could be more soul-sucking than a garage full of Guy Pillows? They’re a knockoff of a brand which has been keeping people awake for years. It’s a good thing Laszlo doesn’t use a pillow, he’s nowhere near ready to be woke, even if he does wear an old lady’s wig to court.

What We Do in the Shadows Season 3: Harvey Guillén Wants Buffy to Train Guillermo

By Tony Sokol

What We Do in the Shadows: 5 Brain Draining Bosses Who are Worse than Colin Robinson

By Tony Sokol

“The Chamber of Judgement” balances the scales of justice between the human world and the vampire one unevenly because there is a vampire at each undue process. While Laszlo tips the scales in favor of the wrong party in the Guy Pillow slumber fest, he bites off more than he can chew at the Vampire Court. Nandor and Nadja, with the whispering human Guillermo in the hot seat, debate the fate of misguided bloodsuckers. It’s pretty much a coin toss. Convinced to give leniency to one vampire, who was selling fake pills which were supposed to keep vampires safe in the sun, the next must die a horrible death. The only fate which is worse would be selling The Guy Pillows door to door, which is too much for even Shaun, who gets sued over it.

The human court is Small Claims court, but to Laszlo, there are no small claims, only grand entrances. The age-old vampire recalls, in his far too distant past, he was a barrister of some kind, at least he had been trained in the laws of law. What makes it all so fittingly real is how he came upon this knowledge: from necessity. He had to defend himself on numerous occasions, usually relating to some kind of obscenity charge. When Nadja later congratulates Laszlo on his first courtroom win, we realize he’s lost all of these historic cases. Why this comes as no surprise is somehow surprising. Laszlo also thought “boys-only night” meant a circle jerk. But it seems Laszlo sentences Derek to a life with Laszlo. While the former Mosquito Club member may represent a new low in vampire stupidity, I’d like to see Laszlo in a Hot Topic.

The “fucking guide” bit is classic. It is a line only Nandor can deliver. “Fucking guy” is almost his catchphrase on the show, and the twist on it is something which wouldn’t be out of place in a TV sitcom from the 1980s. What makes it stand out is the language. It plumbs similar, though opposing, comic deliveries which South Park mines through bleeping, but the nonchalance of the transposition stays with you. It’s like changing your name from Jennifer the Dreadfully Loathsome to Gabby the Dreadfully Loathsome, the little things make the difference.

“Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law,” the vampires are advised by HR. It is good for team building. Anything goes in the chambers, but usually on Thursdays because it’s tiring to keep up all week long. Colin really should put in an appearance. He’s certainly not getting any satisfaction tonight. The crunching, squealing removal of the throne would have at least provided a quick pick-me-up to the angst-hungry vampire. Colin’s Miss Honeycrunch Mystery game gets hijacked, he is quickly demoted from window to door when the game is on TV, and he never gets closure from a work layoff story. Even his squeaky off-key Yoda thing only gets a “that’s funny” from Laszlo. The psychic vampire has been drinking empties for a few episodes now. It must be part of the preparations for the season-closing birthday celebrations.

Written by William Meny and directed by Kyle Newacheck, “The Chamber of Judgement” weighs heavily in What We Do in the Shadows’ favor. We’ve had our fill of the neighbors, and the energy vampire needs an inspiration infusion, but Nadja’s intolerance, Nandor’s indecisiveness, and Laszlo’s indiscretions overrule the objections.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

What We Do in the Shadows‘ “The Chamber of Judgement” aired Sept. 23 at 10:00 p.m. on FX.

The post What We Do in the Shadows Season 3 Episode 5 Review: The Chamber of Judgement appeared first on Den of Geek.

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architectnews · 4 years

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Sauflon Centre of Innovation, Hungary

Sauflon Centre Hungary, Hungarian Architecture, Pest County Building Photos, Architect

Sauflon Centre of Innovation, Gyal

Contact Lens Centre of Innovation, Pest County, Hungary design by Foldes Architects

post updated 1 Sep 2020 ; 18 Mar 2014

Sauflon Centre of Innovation, Gyal, Pest County

Design: Foldes Architects

Location: Gyal, Pest County, Hungary

The ethereal centre of innovation project, unveiled in Hungary, stands for the mutual inspiration of science, technology and art. A twenty four meter passage surrounded by the reflections of reflections. Foldes Architects involved a glass sculptor to compose the illusion effects engaging the visual notion of all visitors.

Despite the economic challenges of the last years, the contact lens industry remained remarkably prosperous. A leading producer of contact lens and aftercare solutions, Sauflon, decided to establish a part of their lens production in Hungary. A decision, which was followed by the foundation of a subsidiary company in 2005.

The opening of the Hungarian production facility ensured a 35% yearly growth, therefore in March 2012 the British parent company decided to create a centre of innovation in Hungary to present the latest technologies in the form of a first class business and clinical training series of inspiring spaces. Five local architectural studios had been invited to tender for the project, which was eventually won by the renowned Foldes Architects.

Laszlo Foldes, chief designer of Foldes Architects, explained the concept that lay behind his company’s presentation: ‘The task was to create an iconic yet functional centre of innovation which mainly serves as the showcase for the high-tech, innovative production methods used in the manufacturing of the latest generation, high-quality contact lens products of Sauflon.

700 people in 4 shifts work daily at the factory which shares the space with the centre of innovation. Though lens production can’t be compared to average factory operation it still meant the industrial to us. It challenged our minds how to couple it to a pure, event and conference oriented, guest welcoming, elegant space.

The concept derived from the definition of lens, the means of vision, and also we took inspiration from the high-technology of the lens industry, therefore clean, intelligent, integrated solutions as well as playful reflections, gloss surfaces and transparency played great importance during the design. This concept is supported by the resin flooring, the glass bridges, the opened-up volume and the tremendous flow of light streaming through the glass façade and the glass roof.’ He said.

Some 20 kilometres South of the capital, Budapest, in the heart of a modern industrial park, among bunches of metal masts, this hidden beauty is waiting for visitors from other lands. The physical production process is settled in the same building, only a door divides it from the centre of innovation space.

To the façade a huge glass surface is used to maximize the amount of light flowing in. After entering, the 10 meter high volume remains open and a 24 meter-long passage welcomes visitors with a sloped glass surface at the end which tricks the vision.

On the right hand side the core functions are located: first a lounge with a 24m2 glass wall presenting the visual ID of the company, then a cloakroom hidden by ‘floating’ glass doors and finally the rebel pink glass covered cafe including kitchen and the mechanical room behind. Above, a wooden box is cantilevered, a house within the house, which serves as an auditorium with 32 seats and an integrated interpreter-cabin for conferences.

The box can be entered from the upstairs guest area, through two green glass bridges. The next bridge gives access to the fitting room where clinical training is delivered and the newest lenses can be experienced. A 12 seat meeting room can be reached through the same bridge.

On the ground floor a white door opens up the secret of the Sauflon Centre of Innovation – visitors can enter the production area here which provides a unique opportunity to gain an insight into the technologies used by one of the most pioneering companies in optics. An iconic text welcomes their arrival: ‘Innovation is at the heart of everything we do.’

Collaborating glass sculptor, Andras Bojti remarked: ‘Our aim was to create and present all details in relation with each other, which resulted in a special experience for visitors, they sense the unity of the layers and surfaces based on these relationships, while moving around the centre. Thanks to the shared work with Laszlo Foldes and his team the result challenges the visitors in all possible ways: visually, spiritually and intellectually.

This is an emblematic project that stands for the shared thinking process of a sensitive architect and an independent artist, also of the collaborative work model, and the implementation of a sculptor’s vision into a physical space. The therapeutic effect is the core of this project; the creation of an atmosphere to influence people enjoying exceptional experiences.’

Laszlo Moholy-Nagy, Hungarian origin artist of the 20th century drew the attention of the public to the importance and meanings of vision through his art works, theories and books, among which the Vision in Motion, speaking about the ‘man’s fundamental qualities, of his intellectual and emotional requirements, of his psychological well-being and his physical health.’ All of these facets of the human experience were used in this exciting new project.

Sauflon Centre of Innovation – Building Information

Project name: Sauflon Centre of Innovation Location: Gyal, Pest County, Hungary Program: Innovation Centre attached to Sauflon contact lens factory Type: competition commission Area/Size: 730 m2 Year: Design: 2013 • Completion: Nov 2013 Cost: 850.000 EUR Client: Sauflon CL Kft. Project by: Foldes Architects (https://ift.tt/19utzeE) Principal Designer: Laszlo Foldes Project Design Team: Johanna Csuri, Tamas Holics Co-designer glass sculptor: Andras Bojti Text: Viktoria Szepvolgyi

Images: Tamas Bujnovszky

Sauflon Centre of Innovation images / information from Foldes Architects

Location: Gyal, Pest County, Hungary, Central Eastern Europe

Hungary Architecture Designs

Hungary Architectural Designs

Hungarian Architecture Design – chronological list

Hungary Architecture News

New Generation Headquarters, Zanka, western Hungary (north shore of Lake Balaton) Design: Modum Építésziroda KFT photos : Tamas Bujnovszky New Generation Centre Building in Zanka

Kemenes Volcanopark Visitor Center, Celldomolk, Vas County Design: Foldes Architects photo : Tamas Bujnovszky Kemenes Volcanopark Visitor Center Building

Bold House, Pest County, central Hungary Design: B13 architect Ltd photo : Zsolt Batár Bold House in Pest County

Hungarian Architecture

Hungary Architects Offices

Comments / photos for the Sauflon Centre of Innovation page welcome

Website: www.sauflon.co.uk/news/sauflon-centre-of-innovation

The post Sauflon Centre of Innovation, Hungary appeared first on e-architect.

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todaynewsstories · 6 years

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Hungary′s university ban on gender studies heats up culture war | Europe| News and current affairs from around the continent | DW

Hungarian Deputy Prime Minister Zsolt Semjen hinted at it during an interview in August: Hungarian universities would no longer offer gender studies as a discipline.

According to Semjen, nobody wanted to employ “genderologists,” so there was no need to train them. He also called the idea of gender as a social construct “absurd.”

The subject has now officially been abolished. Last weekend a government decree signed by Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban came into force, removing gender studies from the list of master’s programmes. Degree courses in the discipline that have already begun can be completed. But after that, the subject will be banned at Hungarian universities.

A master’s degree in gender studies is currently offered at two Hungarian universities: Budapest’s state-funded Eotvos Lorand University (ELTE), Hungary’s oldest university, and the Central European University (CEU), a private institution funded by Hungarian-American billionaire George Soros’ Open Society Foundation. Around 20 students have taken part in the masters program at each university.

CEU is one of the two universities in Hungary that had offered gender studies

Under the spell of reactionary family policy

It may seem absurd to prohibit an entire subject from being taught at univerisities, including at non-state funded ones, but in Hungary, the move is a continuation of a long-running ideological and cultural battle and reactionary social policy.

A large part of Hungary’s ruling elite is convinced that Christian society in Western Europe faces imminent downfall because fundamental values like family, homeland and nation are no longer being upheld. In the West, as Deputy Prime Minister Semjen puts it, left-wing liberals, freemasons, Islamist migrants and “sexual deviants” have abolished all “normalcy.” He sees Hungary as fighting against this to make “Hungarian life” possible.

According to this logic, gender studies is also part of the civilizational decay threatening Europe and hindering Hungarians in their own country.

At Eotvos Lorand University, the master’s degree in gender studies was only introduced in fall 2017, but it immediately earned the indignation of the Hungarian government. Bence Retvari, the state secretary in the Ministry of Human Resources (EMMI), which is responsible for social affairs, education, culture, family, sport and youth, commented that the subject was diametrically opposed to the “values of the government.” As a counterweight to gender studies, Retvari’s ministry introduced the master’s programme in “family studies” at the Corvinus State University in Budapest.

Demographics in the background

In the broader sense, the gender studies ban is also about demography and family policy, and the sentiment in the eastern European country is not new.

In 2015, the current president of the Hungarian Parliament, Laszlo Kover, an old friend and confidant of Orban and a founding member of his ruling Fidesz party, announced that Hungary rejected “gender madness.”

“When our girls give birth to our grandchildren, we want them to regard it as the defining moment of their self-realization,” Kover said at a Fidesz convention.

Last year, Fidesz’s vice president, Szilard Nemeth, called on Hungarian women to “give birth for the country” in order to “produce population growth.”

Before the end of 2018, Prime Minister Orban wants to launch a national campaign to halt Hungary’s demographic decline.

Members of Fidesz have argued that a woman’s highest calling is that of being a mother. Above, women in traditional dress vote in the 2018 Hungarian elections.

A larger cultural struggle

The campaign against gender studies is currently just the most visible part of a cultural struggle that Hungarian government circles have been undertaking over the past several months. It is directed not only against government-critical writers, artists, and musicians, but also against moderates within Orban’s Fidesz party, such as Gergely Prohle, the former deputy state secretary in the Hungarian Foreign Ministry.

In early October, the news broke that Prohle would be stepping down as director of the Petofi Literary Museum (PIM) at the end of the month. The dismissal came after the state-backed newspaper Magyar Idok had accused him of inviting writers to slander Hungary at the expense of its taxpayers.

Orban, who is in his second term as prime minister, has argued that Europe has given up its Western, Christian values

In July Orban had defended his government’s cultural policy offensive, announcing that the fall would bring “major changes” in the form of a intellectual and cultural turn against the “1968 elite,” a generation that had fought for more openness and liberal democracy.

It is not the first such offensive to take aim at cultural policy. After Orban took office as prime minister in 2010, dozens of well-known liberal intellectuals and academics were dismissed or expelled from state universities. The campaign culminated in the so-called “philosophers’ trial” — an investigation into prominent philosophers like Agnes Heller for alleged misappropriation of research funds. The Orban government later had to withdraw the accusations.

In the meantime, the number of employees at state universities and cultural-policy institutions who are publicly critical of the government has dwindled nearly to zero.

The leftist philosopher and former anti-communist civil rights activist G.M. Tamas doesn’t think the government is simply trying to oust left-wing intellectuals. In an opinion for the weekly magazine HVG, he wrote that it is also trying to force moderate conservatives out of the public sphere. Hungary’s reactionary state leadership, Tamas wrote, considers anyone who does adhere to its nationalistic propaganda as “aliens” and “fornicators.”

Each evening at 1830 UTC, DW’s editors send out a selection of the day’s hard news and quality feature journalism. You can sign up to receive it directly here.

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nebris · 7 years

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The Individual and The Hive

“Liberal Humanism had once been a vital force and had changed human affairs for the better. But it inevitably fell victim to the Cult of The Individual and then fractured into ideological factionalism, individual narcissism and intellectual decadence. Its absolute rejection of Hierarchy doomed it to impotence.” a quote from “Apéritif á La Tour Rouge”, a Sisterhood short story. The Cult of The Individual is clearly the predominant theme of the Modern Era. And it is a Lie. Here is the ineffable Adam Curtis speaking upon it in a UK Guardian article: "The way power works in the world is: they tell you stories that make sense of the world. That’s what America did after the Second World War. It told you wonderful dreamlike stories about the world … And at that same time, you were encouraged to rise up and 'become an individual’, which also made the whole idea of America attractive to the rest of the world. But then this very individualism began to corrode it. The uncertainties began in people’s minds. Uncertainty about 'what is the point of being an individual?’ The politics of our time are deeply embedded in this idea of individualism, which is far wider than Westminster [the British seat of government], consumerism or anything like that. It’s how you feel. People think, 'Oh, if it’s within me it must be true.’ But it’s not the be-all and end-all. It’s not an absolute. It’s a way of feeling and thinking which is a product of a particular time and power. The notion that you only achieve your true self if your desires, your dreams, are satisfied … It’s a political idea. That’s the central dynamic of our life.” And this is a more somber comment by a Susan W. in Morris Berman’s blog: “So much of our lives in America are compartmentalized it does result in loneliness. The way our communities are set up isolate us and make social interaction stilted. There’s not much spontaneity and people don’t know how to break this cycle and with 24 hour/day TV, the internet, long commutes and loss of real public space the soul continues to be drained out of Americans. It takes effort to see friends and build a social network that is comprised of real flesh-and-blood people rather than “profiles.” Both Huxley and Orwell recognized this process of dehumanizing people even though they saw the causes differently.” The Cult of The Individual is used by The Powers That Be to utterly dis-empower The Individual and it is my depressing opinion that most in The West, especially my fellow Americans, shall never escape that trap. A chap who calls himself Laszlo Q. V. St-J. Xalieri - a nom-de-blog I expect - speaks of this in his essay The Parable of The Hive, to wit: “The hive decides who gets to mate with whom and under what circumstances. The hive decides who gets the best food, the choicest real estate, and the cushiest jobs. The hive decides how you live and how you die. The hive decides what you eat for breakfast… The hive is an invasive species composed entirely of information, of narrative, that exists only for its own benefit, that nurtures individuals — or the opposite — in proportion to how the individual benefits the hive. It is in the best interests of the hive to teach you sacrifice. To make you accept it completely. The hive, by means of sacrifice and pooling resources, can survive when individuals would fare poorly. Individuals die, but society is preserved… It has predators and parasites. It has fake members that are immune to the narrative, that masquerade as valuable, favored cogs, that pervert the rudimentary defenses to foil and destroy the drones that would root them out. They insinuate themselves into the supply chains to bleed off resources for personal hoards, for prime real estate, for breeding privileges. They pervert the narrative itself to set themselves up as gods. What are the choices here? 1. To ensure survival as much as possible by making yourself invaluable to the hive, but, in the end, putting your fate in the hands of the hive and its narrative. 2. To reject the narrative entirely and live outside of the hive to the greatest extent possible, live and let live, but outside of the hive’s protections and occasionally running afoul of the hive’s defenses. 3. To become a predator/parasite, competing with other parasites for your share of hoarded resources and privileges by your own attempts to co-opt a portion of the narrative. 4. Erect a counter-narrative and create a hive that competes with or even preys upon the old hive, or perhaps establishes a symbiotic relationship with it via an exchange of resources or favors. Once you are aware of the hive, and its narrative, and the predators and parasites that prey on it, your choices are very limited. Keep your head down, try to escape, put up a fight, or autolysis. What will you choose?” What most in The West choose, especially my fellow Americans, is to operate in a gray zone between the first and second choices, thinking/believing that they are in a form of the second paradigm - but utterly in Denial that they are part of The Hive aka the myth of “Rugged Individualism” - while functionally operating fully in the first paradigm. That is the Tea Party mentality in a nutshell. Hipsters on the other hand are more aware of this, but blow it off with Irony. The shrinking and increasingly desperate Middle Classes tend to go for the first paradigm full bore, though still remaining largely in Denial about how thoroughly assimilated they actually are. Wall Street, the New Rich, et al have taken the third paradigm - the 'predator/parasite gods’ - to its insane extreme and will likely be the death of The Hive because of that. But such is inherent to the 'narrative’ of The Individual, its unavoidable Poison Pill, “Screw you, Jack; I got mine.” So then, what is the point of being an 'individual’? What Purpose does your life have beyond 'satisfaction of desires’, many of which are not even really your own? These questions invariably bring us to The Sisterhood and where it stands in all of this. Obviously we pick Door #4, “Erect a counter-narrative and create a hive that competes with or even preys upon the old hive, or perhaps establishes a symbiotic relationship with it via an exchange of resources or favors,” though we shall reverse the order by initially “establishing symbiotic relationship with it via an exchange of resources or favors,” and then subsuming the 'Old Hive’ entirely. “The central strategy here is The Viral Meme, the Idea that is so compelling and dynamic that that is spreads like wildfire. That Idea exists; a entirely new and modern form of Matriarchy. Our task is to create that Idea as a Practical Reality, a Practical Reality that becomes the microcosm of this new society, a Practical Reality that is vital, replicable, adaptable, and then plant it in the societies that presently exist. In many places, it shall flourish and expand. In some places, it will struggle and even be extinguished. But if we do our work effectively and remain true to both the practical goals and the Spiritual vision of this New Matriarchy, we will grow into and absorb even the most hostile social orders.” from The Temple’s Mission Statement. In the meantime we must operate in the third paradigm until we are stronger, as “a predator/ parasite, competing with other parasites for your share of hoarded resources and privileges by your own attempts to co-opt a portion of the narrative.” I understand that all this is a bitter pill to swallow. Some of you can likely hear Number Six shouting, “I’m not a number, etc,” in your minds. But that is a delusion at this point. Just pull out your wallet or purse. You are several types of number and by yourself you are powerless. Yes, Worst Fear confirmed. I am offering you a way to change this, my Sisters. It is a radical and even dangerous path and may be even a fool’s errand. But I truly believe that, for the many reasons elaborated upon in Liber Sorores, it is the only viable path out of the present death spiral, because it’s fairly clear the 'Old Hive’ is dying and all the other solutions are either warmed-over versions of the Old Hive’s socioeconomic or some type of neo-feudal reaction, various primitivist 'back to the land’ constructs that would require the extinction of hundreds of millions of humans in order to work. For decades now how many tens of millions of you, my Sisters, have woken up every day to a job you hate? To a life you hate? To feeling trapped and without Purpose? Even if one has the basic necessities of life, lack of Purpose can be Soul killing, a day to day void that slowly but steadily drains the life out of you. And now even the 'basic necessities’ are becoming hard to come by. Simple survival has become 'purpose’. But that is an animal’s life. If you have gotten to this far, you have likely read Liber Sorores in its entirety. You now know The Path Invoked, though you may not yet truly grasp it. To do so means to accept some unpleasant truths about ourselves. As a highly social Predator Species, we are biologically hard wired for Dominance, Submission and Hierarchy. Denial of that state of being is one of the worst and most hypocritical forms of Bourgeois Delusionalism, which is ever about making things Safe and Nice. Of course, being Humans, we make that paradigm very complex and sophisticated and far more subtle than it is in untrammeled Nature. We hide it in Ritual and Lies so that it becomes 'palatable’ to the Masses. But it is there if one looks close and honestly enough at day to day human interaction. Most urban dwellers never look each other in the eye; such is an implicit challenge. I personally have 'taken control’ of many interactions via this simple behavior and without having to establish overt Dominance. Just making steady eye contact often tells the other that I am Strong and Confident, aka Steady and Trustworthy. I have found this to be true even when my Social Status was 'less’ than the person I was interacting with. I quite successfully navigated my way through two years of homelessness doing so. And pointing out that I am a large white male who is attractive, intelligent and articulate merely underscores the power of the paradigm, though many of the techniques I used – such as NLP – are not limited to individuals of that class. But while I did this largely 'on my own’, I never did it as a pure Individual. Early on I became a member of a well respected homeless support organization, always cultivated persons of importance within The System and consistently acknowledged that I knew I was operating within said System, covertly with The Dull and overtly with The Aware. I was always part of a Group. As I said, human Hierarchy is complex, subtle and sophisticated. But have no doubt that it defines us. I have noted that some of loudest denials of this paradigm come from tenured academics – individuals of Authority and Power in a clearly defined Hierarchy – which I’d say sums up our basic dilemma rather neatly. And both ends of the cultural and political spectrum are guilty of this deception, though the Left is rather more self deluded in this regard. The Right tends to simply lie about it, which in turn yields the field, at worst, to Fascist Domination and, at best, making the social order prisoner of Modern Corporate Marketing Culture aka The Hologram, which is all about Safe and Nice. This attitude has been enshrined in The Cult of The Individual, which in turn renders those who internalize said construct ultimately powerless against any Group which seeks Control. The Hive will always defeat The Individual. Most humans will seek Safety and Comfort long before they seek Awareness. That is hard wired as a survival mechanism. Only an elite few have the Willingness and the Courage to become Awake. We are a social species. Hierarchy is in our nature. And Leaders are required. Refusal to accept that will lead only to frustration and failure. If you believe nothing else I tell you, believe that. The Cult of The Individual has crippled us as individuals, leaving us prey to the purposeless greed of The Corporate State. Only a positive overarching Goal for the entire Species can once again create the room for individuals to flourish because such a Goal allows each individual to contribute that which they are best at and are happiest with by removing uncertainly and therefore removing Fear. By knowing the Greater Purpose, each individual knows how and what they can contribute, whether that be in Engineering or in Art or even just sweeping up. All those things have Value. In return, the Social Order gives all its members that which they need to live and the ability to find where they can best be of Service, which is the Highest Good for all. It is only in this manner that The Hive may Serve The Individual as The Individual Serves The Hive and in that both may prosper. And only a Hive of Sisters is capable of doing so.

Liber Sorores: Part Seven – “Summation” [unfinished]

#The Sisterhood

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metspacesolutions · 7 years

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Conformity Is The Surest Path To Mediocrity

By Louis Chew

The best in the world do things very differently.

We know that. It’s why there are articles on the habits, routines and methods of people like Elon Musk, Bill Gates and Steve Jobs. We study them extensively in the hope that the little adaptions we make will improve our lives. Doing things differently is what these people the best in their field — it stands to reason that it would benefit us mere mortals as well.

The Radical Polgár Experiment

A Hungarian psychologist by the name of Laszlo Polgar was someone who had no qualms about radical experiments. After studying the biographies of hundreds of intellectuals, he identified a common theme among these men — early and intensive specialisation in a particular subject. We know this today as deliberate practice. To test his theory, he made it his mission to raise his own children and turn them into prodigies.

Unlike most men who invested in romancing their love interests, Laszlo Polgar would propose to his future wife with an idea — that they would commit their lives to raising child prodigies. A woman by the name of Klara agreed, and so they were wed.

Chess was the sport that the Polgars decided on. Progress in chess was specific and measurable over time. All three of Laszlo Polgar’s daughters were home schooled, with a special focus on chess. While their peers watched TV and played outside, the Polgar sisters would be tackling chess puzzles and mastering their craft.

All three Polgar sisters accomplished much in their own right. They trounced adult opponents in their teenage years and dominated tournaments from a young age. The oldest, Susan, would become the women’s world champion. However, it was Judit Polgar, the youngest sister, who would go on to be the strongest female chess player of all time. She would become the youngest chess grandmaster ever — both male and female — at just 15 years old. She never accepted the path many leading female players take — competing in separate women’s events and aiming at the women’s world title. Instead, Judit Polgar’s main competition were men, where she would be the only woman to play against the top male chess players in the world — fighting for just the women’s title was too easy for her.

Today, there is unanimous agreement that Judit Polgar is the best female chess player of all time.

Normal Is The New Average

You don’t need to brought up by parents who are hell-bent on raising a child prodigy. What you do need to realise is that the best in the field are outliers not just in their accomplishments, but also in their habits and routines. They are willing to be different even if it earned them rebuke or criticism — Laszlo Polgar was in a constant fight with the Hungarian authorities on how best to raise his children.

We instinctively think we are above average. We don’t want to be average. Yet ironically, we want to be normal and have the same interests as most people do. We don’t want to be different and stand out. Having the same interests, routines, habits as everyone else ensures that we stay in the majority and are hence part of the ‘in-group’. But by design, we are setting up ourselves to be average.

What’s the problem with average? There’s nothing wrong about having a statistically average performance. The problem arises when you choose to be average — to be just like everyone else — because you are choosing to be mediocre. Being like everyone else is a guarantee that you will never fully develop your innate talents and strengths. By extension, you will never be the best version of yourself. That all but guarantees mediocrity.

“It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.” — Jiddu Krishnamurti

Non-Conformity On A Daily Basis

Oscar Wilde once remarked that “Everything popular is wrong”. It’s a mantra that I try my best to live by. I avoid spending time on fashion and celebrity culture whenever possible. I don’t have an Instagram account even though all my friends use it. I avoid these things because they have little value to me — peer pressure and the desire to fit in doesn’t change that. Don’t get me wrong. I watch Game of Thrones and other TV shows, just like everybody does. Game of Thrones has great storytelling and is sure as hell interesting, that’s why I watch it. However, I don’t watch it because everyone else does.

What I’ve personally experienced is that there is a better signal-to-noise ratio when you avoid doing something just because it’s popular. You have perspectives and mental frameworks that are different from those whom you spend a lot of time with. You don’t get influenced and pressured to do something to fit in. You get to focus on what matters most; you get to define what matters most.

Dare To Be Different

It’s not going to be easy. You will not be the life of the party. You might even lose a few friends along the way. You have to go at it alone. But it’ll definitely be worth it.In 333 BCE, Alexander the Great attempted to untie the fabled Gordian Knot. Oracles had prophesied that the one whom untied the knot would go on to become the King of Asia. With the end of the knot hidden from sight, nobody had been able to find an elegant solution to the problem. When Alexander could not find the end to the knot to unbind it, he drew his sword and sliced it cleanly into half, thereby producing the required ends.

There are geniuses and pioneers who at the age of 21, have accomplished more than what anyone would in their life times. They did not take the same route that others did. With the world so inextricably connected today, non-conformity can be extremely difficult when there are thousands of people judging your every move. But like Alexander, you will need to be bold and take the road less traveled. Any sane person would have considered Alexander a cheat and his solution absurd — you will likewise have to bear that label until you succeed.

The Road Less Travelled

Chris Guillebeau, author of The Art of Non-Conformity, is one who rejects living the conventional life. He has visited all 193 countries in the world before his 35th birthday, and has managed not to hold a traditional 9-to-5 job. In his personal manifesto, titled A Brief Guide to World Domination [you need to check it out], Chris discusses the normalisation of mediocrity.

He writes:

“If there is any good news to the normalization of mediocrity, it’s that when you do something excellent, it will be so uncommon that you will instantly stand out. People will be amazed, because they’re so used to the good enough that the excellent is truly rare. This can work to your advantage when you decide to take things up a level and exceed the low expectations around you.”

The message is clear — being unconventional is not always easy, but it is definitely rewarding.

Moving Forward

Don’t be afraid to be different. The things that make you different are what make you, you. Adopt different routines. Get up earlier. Take cold showers in the morning. Spend time meditating. Pick up a new skill. Journal your learning.

Above all, remember to take the road less travelled.

Shared from Medium.com

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

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Chapter 14

WC: 958

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, age difference, mentions of professor/student relationships, language

A/N: and I oop

🧠

"Wait-wait, Kreizler kissed you?" Bitsy is sitting next to you on your bed. She tried to refrain from interrupting while you explained what had happened that evening in his office. You must not have been totally clear in your words; hell, you weren't even making sense inside your own head right now.

"No, Bits. He didn't. And then he told me to leave."

She studies you for a second. "And did you… want him to kiss you?" she asks with hesitation.

"I-" you begin. You were supposed to dislike him, to be friendly for the sake of work at best. He was still the self-centered and arrogant man you first met underneath everything, even if your relationship had improved the last three or so weeks. But when you consider Bitsy’s question only one word comes to mind: yes. God, you did want him to kiss you there on the floor of his office.

You aren't sure when things changed. It was like seeing a photograph that you have no memory of being taken, but was undeniably you in the picture. It was a puzzle piece finally being put into place. A light illuminating a dark room. A freight train at full speed. Maybe Freud was right when he said our dreams can tell us the things we don’t even know that we want yet; can tell us what we need.

"I did want him to," you admit softly, both to Bitsy and to yourself.

Bitsy wraps her arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her chest. "You know - I'm really not surprised. I mean I won't lie, I still predicted hate-sex over this but… you’ve been acting different since Chicago. You’ve seemed a lot happier.” In a lighter tone she adds “and we both know he’s your type. Older, intellectual, has a steady job, dark hair and a nice beard, and he’s got your standard ‘dad-bod’.” You laugh into her neck. You know she’s right, he checks off all your boxes. If he hadn’t been so off putting the first time you met you would have definitely developed your crush on him sooner.

A crush?

No.

It was so much more than that. Never in your life had you felt this sort of unrestrained passion and connection to another person. He drove you fucking nuts in every sense of the word. Everytime he spoke you hung onto his words like they were oxygen. You wanted to both rip him to shreds and rip his clothes to shreds. But more than anything, you wanted him to do the same. To absolutely destroy you in every sense of the word. In all honesty you had thought he was thinking the same thing based on the way he had looked at you. The way he had been increasingly kind to you, considerate to you, open to you. The way his touches and gazes lingered.

But he didn’t.

Anger wells in your chest. You pull back from Bitsy. "And that's the fucking problem." You let out an exaggerated growl in frustration. "He could've done it, we were right there and the moment was perfect and I just. Ugh!"

You stand up and pace on the worn carpet. “He does these little things now. He asks me for my thoughts but like he actually wants to hear them, not because he’s trying to pick a fight. And he brings me tea in the mornings sometimes when he gets it himself. He’s invited me to hang with his friends and they’re so welcoming and funny. He- he told me about his childhood. And I told him about…” you trail off. She knows what you refer to regardless. “We have these moments where I look up and he’s already looking at me, but it’s so soft. He even paid for the trip with his own money because he wanted me to go.”

Bitsy just listens to your rant. You pause before slumping on the edge of the mattress. “Maybe… maybe I was wrong? Oh my god what if he thinks I’m some freak now trying to come on to their professor? Fuck - it’s no wonder he wanted me to leave! Shit.” You drop your head into your hands.

Your roommate rubs your back. “Look, I’m sure everything will blow over in the next couple days. He might’ve just been afraid to take that step, or maybe you did just misread the situation. He can either grow a pair or he can get over himself. And if he doesn’t have feelings then so what, fuck him, you can do better than a guy that made you miserable for months.”

A couple of deep breaths calms you down. She’s right. Everything was so sudden today that maybe it just caught him off guard. You know you were beyond unprepared for that to happen. And logically, if he doesn’t feel the same pull then you would be fine. You are his aide and technically a student at the university anyway, it’s likely an off-limits territory for him. Both of you are adults and can be professionals. You didn’t need to plague yourself with it.

“Thank you, Bits. I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” With another hug she left you to your devices for the night.

The following morning you woke up as usual to get ready to head to his office. Checking your phone you saw that you had a text from the man in question:

Laszlo: I will not be in need of an assistant for the remaining duration of the term. Thank you for your help, it has been invaluable. Best wishes with your studies.

x Dr. Kreizler

You could almost feel your heart fall into your stomach. “Shit, I fucked up….”

Tag list

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#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #laszlo kreizler fanfic #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #daniel bruhl fanfiction #scuttle-buttle

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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What We Do in the Shadows Season 3 Episode 3 Review: Gail

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This What We Do in the Shadows review contains spoilers.

What We Do in the Shadows Season 3 Episode 3

After constant battles, stakings, stalkings, hauntings, and curses, What We Do in the Shadows season 3, episode 3, “Gail,” finds love, or something like it. It comes from the past, is completely unexpected, and very hard to maneuver. Yes, I’m going to start with Laszlo’s (Matt Berry) jalopy, which is more than he can do, even with Colin Robinson’s (Mark Proksch) help.

Laszlo and Colin haven’t had much alone time on What We Do in the Shadows, but their pairing is unnaturally solid. The audience sometimes forgets that these two characters can act so stupidly. Maybe it’s because Colin’s glasses and sweater and Laszlo’s ribald tone give the appearance of intellectual prowess. But that’s like confusing Colin’s unending knowledge of arcane trivia as wisdom when it’s only a ploy to suck the energy from a room. Laszlo is well-versed enough in the classics of erotic literature to know “Cornelius Dong’s Adventures in the Boner Brigade” never came out in hardcover, but he really just looked at the pictures in the paperback.

The discovery, dismantling, and reconstruction of Lazlo’s car, and all the destruction which comes along with it, is another example of keeping comedy classic. What We Do in the Shadows consistently presents comic setups which are deeply rooted in sitcom standard, yet is never automatic. Lucy and Ethyl could very well have rotated tires like this on I Love Lucy, though neither one would have burst into flame upon ignition. That does come as a surprise, and when Colin laughs it off, it packs twice the punchline.

The jalopy, called the Stutz-Laszlo, and its backstory are funny in what is becoming patented What We Do in the Shadows-style schtick. It’s a little ridiculous, twists historic reality, and bends language. Laszlo had his driving privileges taken away because he transported miners across state lines, and the vehicle was made for Henry Ford, who gave it to his hero Mussolini. What, too soon? We don’t hear how Laszlo got it from the brown-shirts. The sequence is carjacked by Dark Shade (Kristen Schaal) who, as the beleaguered caretaker of Vampiric Council headquarters, knows which buttons to push to drive a scene.

What We Do in the Shadows Season 3 Episode 1 Review: The Prisoner

By Tony Sokol

What We Do in the Shadows Season 3 Episode 2 Review: The Cloak of Duplication

By Tony Sokol

The title of the episode refers to an on-again, off-again romance Nandor (Kayvan Novak) has been carrying on for decades. Nadja (Natasia Demetriou) pegs the sad fate of the relationship from the beginning, knowing the pattern of loves and losses in this coupling. Guillermo (Harvey Guillén), in his new role as bodyguard to the vampires, says he is just looking out for his master’s safety. But the jealousy is transparent, and the caution appears to be both well-founded and intentionally-misguided.

Gail Marie We-Don’t-Know-Her-Last-Name is played by Aida Turturro, who played Tony Soprano’s sister Janice on The Sopranos, and was pretty scary in her own right. She put two silver bullets in the chest of Richie Aprile, whose “Manson Lamps” stare intimidated even Tony. That pair met when Richie was doing a yoga posture called “downward facing dog.” It’s not a sexual position, regardless of what Laszlo and the others walk in on. It’s just something that happens when the moon is full.

The series is not afraid to be controversial. There aren’t a lot of mixed couples among the werewolf and vampire species, so not a lot is said about the intimate difficulties of supernatural interspecies sex. Nandor is a big man, all around, as a vampire, but once he goes bat, he just wants to go back. Even though he may be proportionally well-endowed in flying rodent form, it’s barely a tic to a ravenous werewolf.

Nadja’s relationship with Gail is as fascinating as Nandor’s. Even her doll reflects it. The reputation of Nadja’s feelings for Nandor’s on and off were-friend precede her, but is based on dismissive misogyny rather than fact. Nandor and Colin pigeonhole Nadja, Laszlo vampsplains her, and Guillermo feels entitled to presume her intents. Nadja is transparent, sharing her feelings honestly, fully, and with increased intensity. But her words come out as if in another language, from another species.

The Twilight takeoff is also doggedly funny. It’s fun to watch werewolves fetch. The bit about them chasing cars works better because of the puppy-like dialogue. Gail’s infatuation on Robert Seger works on a comic level mainly through a subliminal reference to the musical poet’s backing band. The Silver Bullet Band is never mentioned by name but hangs over each of the scenes as a punchline. Just like Nandor hangs out in the majority of his scenes with Gail.

The cast is obviously having fun, and Gail’s first scene may be one of the best introductions on TV. “Hi, you remember Gail,” Nandor says. “I am inside her right now.” It is funny because it seems both candid and completely obvious. The characters are so completely straightforward, and seemingly unfiltered. Sometimes the show is obliquely clever, such as all of Bob Seger’s “Night Moves,” but the jokes usually land on a note of overt buffoonery. Even the somewhat reserved Colin is always “down to clown.”

“Gail” was written by Marika Sawyer, and directed by Kyle Newacheck. What We Do in the Shadows is bubbling just below last season but still delivering satisfying episodes. They’re just quite not as filling. But this week’s puppy chow is yummy.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

What We Do in the Shadows‘ “Gail” aired Sept. 9 at 10:00 p.m. on FX.

The post What We Do in the Shadows Season 3 Episode 3 Review: Gail appeared first on Den of Geek.

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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What We Do in the Shadows Season 3 Episode 1 Review: The Prisoner

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This What We Do in the Shadows review contains spoilers.

What We Do in the Shadows Season 3 Episode 1

What We Do in the Shadows season 3 episode 1, “The Prisoner,” moves quickly through the blood and raw meat left over from the slaughter of the season 2 finale, “Nouveau Théâtre des Vampires.” The episode is named for the faithful familiar Guillermo (Harvey Guillén), who took out about 70 percent of the most powerful vampires in the Tri-State area. When the episode opens, he is being held in a cage while Nandor the Relentless (Kayvan Novak), Nadja of Antipaxos, (Natasia Demetriou), Laszlo Cravensworth (Matt Berry), and Colin Robinson (Mark Proksch) decide his fate.

It’s not an easy decision, apparently. Much of the opening finds the vampires arguing over whose responsibility the errant servant is. Nandor is happy to share ownership of the young man who slew the upper echelon of blood-thirstiest suckers in the northeast. Nadja and Laszlo vote thumbs down, no way, kill him. Even Nadja’s doll wants to take the stuffing out of the Van Helsing descendant. The discussion which leads to the living doll having a vote in the Staten Island house rules is priceless foolishness. The highlight comes in unison. Colin Robinson really doesn’t care what happens to “Gizmo,” the name he adopted after Laszlo tagged Guillermo with it.

Colin drops the first F-bomb of the season, and it lands a little awkwardly. This is a vampire who takes energy from people with subtle and usually passively aggressive attacks. Here he is frustrated and, let’s face it, drained by the vampires around him. Nadja and Laszlo have especially had enough of their psyche-draining roommate and Colin should be energized by their annoyance. But he is visibly agitated at being shut down, even though he should be eating that up. Also, it’s not quite clear what he gets out of sifting through the prisoner’s toilet bucket, looking for secret messages. He seems to be only draining himself there again. That’s not vampiric, that’s cannibalistic.

While it is highly amusing how Guillermo has to warn Colin about touching an electric cattle prod to a metal bar, it seems the psychic vampire endowed with will-sapping trivia knowledge would know which end was hot. However, when Colin refuses to give credit to the prison for making him zap himself, he might actually be paying the vampire hunter a compliment. We are not entirely sure whether Colin is playing up the dangers the prisoner poses to the vulnerable vampires because he believes it or is just feeding on the fear he can raise. It feels like Colin believes it when he warns the others that they don’t know Guillermo’s full powers. He is also the only roommate to notice how the imprisoned slaughterer got out of his cage in time to toss stakes at an unannounced visitor.

What We Do in the Shadows Season 3 Prepares For Colin Robinson’s 100th Birthday

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What We Do in the Shadows Season 3: Guillermo Gets a Promotion

By Tony Sokol

“Yes, we get it, you’re a vampire killer with the stakes and the reflexes and all that,” Dark Shade (Kristen Schaal), the Floating Woman from the Vampiric Council, says. “Great job.” This affirms what Nandor has been saying, and Guillermo has been Machiavellian-ing, since the beginning of the episode. There is a warriors’ code. Guillermo lived up to that code, and continues to do so, while also performing his other tasks unencumbered by the cumbersome vampires.

His is an interesting character arc, which Guillén presents completely unselfconsciously. Guillermo is as naïve as the day we first saw him, but wise enough to impress his acumen onto the audience and camera crew. Guillermo is even beyond the effects of quadruple hypnosis, something which would give the brain-scramblies to even the most willful humans. This may be because he had an intellectual head start. All of the vampires, except for Nadja and Laszlo – who would never think to look a familiar in the eye – acknowledge his growth. Even the high counselor on the council which rules over all the councils takes notice.

What We Do in the Shadows is based on the 2014 feature film by Jemaine Clement and Taika Waititi, so it should come as no surprise one of the true creators is the Supreme Worldwide Vampiric Council member who presents the Staten Island vampires with their new obligations. It should be a surprise he can’t work a VCR, but none of the vampires really got a handle on it. They all bought Betamax machines. The elder vampire reaches a completely valid conclusion. Yes, the Staten Island vampires broke the biggest vampire code: don’t kill vampires. Yes, it’s a big rule, it comes up in every conversation, vampires never shut up about it to remind themselves how big a rule it is.

However, when a vampire takes out 37 vampires in a clip it shows a kind of leadership quality. And putting these vampires at the tops of the local Vampiric Council begins with the very promise of things to come. Before anyone has even sat on the throne, there’s a scrabble for leadership, false humility, and some real ennui from Laszlo. He did not become a vampire to be a paper pusher, and doesn’t give a shit about vampire councils. Colin Robinson, as we know from previous episodes and are reminded again, has been very active on the local vampire political front.

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Giving power to the main character is a gamble, both for the Council and for the series. The logic which brings them there is absurdly perfect. The wisdom to stay will probably be too much for them, so it will be fun to also watch them fumble it. While it is a thrill to see a supernatural kick from Nandor send a heavy crate sailing across a cell, it is more fun to hear him complain about the splinter in his boot. These vampires have lived longer than most creatures on earth, and in all that time, they’ve learned nothing. They are still clumsy, whining, children. It is too easy to call them narcissists, they are only amateur hedonists.

“The Prisoner,” which was written by Paul Simms and directed by Kyle Newacheck, is a fast-moving opener to what looks to be a brisk season of transitions. Guillermo remains vertical but gets a lateral promotion. Three of the four vampires get to vie for local power, and one gets to spend more time in the potting shed.

What We Do in the Shadows‘ “The Prisoner” aired Sept. 2 at 10:00 p.m. on FX.

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