Category Archives: Art
Saturday Matinee: Cops vs. Thugs

Cops Vs. Thugs — No Honour Among Thieves (or Cops)
By Ben Warnock
Source: Ben Warnock Blog
“Yakuza and cops are just the same. We respect the law instead of a code. We’re the dropouts who couldn’t get good jobs.”
“We too are the dropouts of society. We all are!”
Kinji Fukasaku’s yakuza films are perhaps best described as being surrounded by an almost impenetrable, bleak aura of despair and nihilism. The cops who are supposed to be the protectors of the people are corrupt to the core, Fukasaku basically presents them as a mercenary force — one that can be bought if the bid is high enough. Government officials often use the police to do their bidding and much like their underlings are as corrupt as they come. This damning indictment of these systems does not mean that the director sides with the yakuza — often portraying them as morally reprehensible criminals — whilst their code may be one of honour, post-war Japan has created a society that allows for greedy capitalists to gain power simply at the expense of sullying their morals and code. Those who stick to a code of honour become the dead that litters the senseless gang wars that follow. Corruption is a recurring theme throughout Fukasaku’s yakuza films and Cops Vs. Thugs is perhaps his most interesting example of this outside of his famous Battles Without Honour and Humanity series.
Much like the aforementioned series of films, Fukasaku looks to highlight the corrupting nature of power and that those who seek power are often those who are corrupted the easiest. The police of the film are split between those who are corrupt but perhaps honourable in their own, twisted way — as characterised by Bunta Sugawara’s Kuno whose corruption is described as a way of keeping the peace — and the new faction led by Kaida who is vehemently against collaboration with the yakuza. However, Kaida’s allegiances should not be mistaken as honourability as Fukasaku is certain to illustrate. Kaida’s behaviour humiliates his co-workers in public spectacles — including repeatedly using his judo skills on an elderly police officer — where his power is cemented amongst the other police officers. This damning indictment of the police is nothing new to the films of Fukasaku but here, the director highlights that those who seek the position of a police officer are those who are power-hungry and susceptible to corruption from many outside forces. As Sugawara’s Kuno states when asked why he became a cop:
“I wanted to carry a gun. After the war only cops and narcotic agents could carry guns….we were short of food…every time we tried to buy rice on the black market, the cops snatched it away. So I decided to be a snatcher”.
Unlike the famous notion that power corrupts, Fukasaku’s films prove that it is not power that corrupts but it is in the nature of those who seek positions of power in a patriarchal, capitalist system to become corrupt. It is the damaged system’s cyclical nature that corrupts individuals.
The fates of those characters who have a shred of honour — Kuno and Kawamoto — ultimately end in tragedy. Kuno’s honour and trust in his friend Hirotani ultimately leads to his escape attempt and forces Kuno’s hand in killing Hirotani. Violence begets violence and Kuno — after being demoted and transferred as a reward for saving Kaida’s life — is killed by the remaining members of Hirotani’s gang. The yakuza honour forces them to avenge the death of their leader. Kawamoto, on the other hand, attempts to save his friend’s life by getting them to surrender and is gunned down by the very friend he tried to save. The honour and trust showcased have no place within the world of the police and the yakuza. Corrupt institutions whose original purposes have become eroded and replaced by pawns of the capitalist society they inherit. This ever-changing, impermeable alliance between characters is highlighted by Fukasaku’s camera. Battles devolve into a sweeping landscape of betrayal with snitches followed by the judging eye of the camera and gunfights where the action can barely be contained within the confines of the screen. Fukasaku’s frantic kineticism within these scenes is indicative of the disorientating landscape of unknown allegiances which these characters inhabit and thrive.
The world which is represented in Cops Vs. Thugs is one that is inherently damaged from its systems of government to its criminals whose honour and code have become meaningless in the current political landscape. The real threat presented to the governing officials is not the yakuza who seek to exploit the corrupted system but a change in ideology that would bring the system crashing down. Fukasaku even highlights this own threat with the police officer whose entire character consists of his hatred of communists even ahead of the very criminals that are terrorising the streets he is meant to protect. Fukasaku’s (literal) red herring of communism here is one that rewards those who buy into the paranoia. The anti-communist officer is inexplicably a member of Kaida’s team and Fukasaku ensures that he is the first officer seen to be arresting the yakuza once they surrender. This perhaps explains that Kaida’s corruption does not lie with the yakuza but the capitalist government which seeks to strengthen its own resolve within society. The film’s epilogue showing the demotion and untimely fate of Kuno also highlights that Kaida is now a leading figure in Nikko Oil — a company that was mentioned to be corrupt as well. Hiding behind a facade of friendly exercising with his co-workers — Fukasaku pulls out from a close-up to a wide shot allowing the audience to realise that this corrupt institution is just one of many within the industrial landscape. Corruption does not just lie with the police working with the yakuza but also — and more dangerously so — lies with the police collaborating with the government.
Watch Cops vs. Thugs on Kanopy here: https://www.kanopy.com/product/cops-vs-thugs-0
Two for Tuesday
Saturday Matinee: The Prisoner: Arrival

Perfect Pilots: The Prisoner “Arrival”
By John Bernardy
Source: 25 Years Later
A man resigns from his previous post. He is followed and taken captive into a surreal resort town. He tries his best to escape over and over but the location proves inescapable. But the man never backs down from the challenge. He will not conform to his prison. He will escape it.
This is The Prisoner. And this is its pilot.
The adversaries in the Village want the main character to answer this question: “Why did you resign?” They’re not interested in facts and statistics because they have plenty of those. They’re interested in the reasons behind the events—the hard-to-quantify process an individual goes through as they make decisions.
We learn the main character—most often referred to as Number Six—draws this line in the sand: “I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed, or numbered. My life is my own.”
That, ladies and gentleman, is The Prisoner’s main conflict. Six thinks in terms of conformity versus individualism. The Village thinks in terms of security and power at all cost versus breach of security.
In this pilot episode we are introduced to the Village—its physical boundaries and its social ecosystem—and we learn how long Six could be trapped in it. We meet some of the people who run it and why they’re interested in keeping Number Six under their thumb. We see an escape plan and we see that the main villain, Number Two, is easily replaceable with different actors. We also see how the other villagers are pawns for whatever the Village wants of them. There is a lot of world-building necessary to understand The Prisoner’s high-concept premise yet it does so organically, with minimal words, and all within 49 minutes.
By the end of this pilot episode, it’s hard to decide if Number Six should trust anyone. It’s even difficult to know for sure if Number Six deserves our trust, but compared to how inhumanely the Village treats people with its ends-justify-the-means methods, Six sure behaves like one of the good guys. The one thing that you do understand, however, is Six’s situation. Fight at all costs and escape. Remain an individual. The Prisoner is a moody show about big ideas such as privacy and surveillance, and you understand this struggle well after just one episode.
That is an achievement all by itself, yet the camera work is worthy of its own discussion. It is visually stunning and surreal. When Six is disconcerted and making his first escape, we see rapid camera cuts between him moving through a “garden” and statues turning as Six moves past them.
There’s similar frantic camera work as Six looks around the #6 apartment for the source of the omnipresent classical music filling his room. You could tell how necessary it was for Six to have the option to turn that radio on and off himself. The show regularly makes the viewer feel the interior space of its characters without saying a word.
The show is purposely quiet. We don’t get a word of dialogue (counting the opening credits sequence) until four minutes in. Every chance it gets, The Prisoner shows rather than tells. Its ethos is baked into every stage of the show, and I’m glad that holds true with its dialogue.
I’ll show you with my subheadings how organically information is revealed to us over the course of this episode.
The Main Character Resigns
Each week, the show opens with the main character—played by auteur show-creator Patrick McGoohan—driving his Lotus into a parking garage. He walks down a hallway and announces something to a man behind a desk. There are no words in this sequence but the character is grandstanding—emphatic and demanding. Then he storms out and drives away while a file with his picture is being typed over with “X”s. The word “resigned” is shown. The main character heads home and begins to pack quickly, but a man in a top hat has been following him and gasses the main character’s apartment. The next thing we see is McGoohan’s character waking up in the new location.
The Village Gets Its Name
The room looks identical to the flat in London, except the view outside the window is of the eccentric buildings found in Portmeirion, Wales. Not that we knew that at the time; the resort town was not listed by name until The Prisoner’s final episode. Not even viewers knew where this location was.
We get a minute and a half of the disoriented main character searching for people he’d seen off in the distance. We finally get dialogue when he comes across a woman setting up an outdoor café. After being rebuffed a few times for his question, “where is this place?” she finally tells him, “the Village.”
Local Service Only For This Multinational Operation
The café worker tells the main character where to find a phone but he can’t use the service without a number. He takes a taxi, which is basically a golf cart, and the driver speaks to the main character in English and French, proving they deal with multiple nationalities there. She also tells him that she only does local service inside the Village, just like the phone system. She takes him to a general store where he tries to buy a map. The small map looks like this:

The larger map is the same image, only bigger and in color. There is no way to pinpoint where The Village is in relation to the rest of the known world.
An Announcement System Tells You How to Feel about the Day and Doors Tell You to Enter Them
The main character leaves the store and a nearby speaker broadcasts (in Fenella Fielding’s voice, as always) about how today is another beautiful day. He returns to the room he woke up in. There is a “6” on its sign and the door opens automatically for him, beckoning him to enter.
The main character looks out his window and sees a maid walking away from the place. Absolutely nothing is left to the individual’s responsibility in the Village, and this is told to us with action rather than exposition.
Six Gets His Title and Number Two Is the Adversary
The phone rings and a man’s voice declares him “Number Six” and that he should stop by to get acquainted. “Number Two, Green Dome,” the man says.
“Pop Goes the Weasel” is a musical cue referenced in the soundtrack as the main character heads to the Green Dome. This cue will be referenced regularly and, in my interpretation, seems to be related to the logical conclusion of the Village’s method of ruling.
When the main character arrives, the unnamed butler (Angelo Muscat) opens the door and takes him into Number Two’s chamber.
Intimidation by Breakfast: The Village Knows Everything about Their Prisoners
Number Two asks Six what he’d like for breakfast. As Six answers him, the butler immediately uncovers the exact choices as asked for. The Village keeps track of the most normal behaviors and shows that they know how predictable people are.
Yet Number Two does not know why Six resigned. The information inside Six’s head makes him a valuable commodity to many different parties. This tells us that Six knows important secrets. The Village needs to protect these secrets from falling into the wrong hands. We do not, however, learn the Village’s allegiances.
This is the entire crux of the show’s conflict. If Six reveals his motives, the Village will get what they want. If Six does not reveal his secrets and escapes, he maintains his individuality and achieves his goal.
Over the course of Six and Two’s battle of words and wills, we are shown that the Village has multiple pictures of Six’s littlest decisions from before his capture. They surveyed every part of his life before he was captured.
A Helicopter Tour Reveals the Time Frame of a Sentence
In addition to Six revealing why he resigned, Number Two wants him to conform to the Village’s rule. It will help them break him. To that end, they take a helicopter tour of the Village grounds. It serves as exposition for viewers, but it’s organic and there’s a bite to it. There’s a council building where villagers put on amateur theatrics, implying that the villagers are expected to be there a while—but how long? Number Two points out that they have their own graveyard. It sounds like a standard town detail, but the threat is clear.
People Make the Choice to Conform or Face Rover
After the characters land, Six walks around the village and notices how extremely happy everyone appears. He has a conversation with Number Two, even though Two is across the square from Six using a bullhorn and everyone is listening. Yet the villagers appear completely oblivious until Two says “be still!”
Everyone freezes in place except for one man who freaks out. He is then chased by a creepy white bubble. We learn later that its name is Rover but when Six asks, “what’s that?” Number Two only says, “That would be telling.” The Village thinks it holds all the cards. They need not reveal anything, but they must know everything.
These people in the village square had a choice to come around to Number Two’s way of thinking: the choice to survive through conformity or die as a free thinker.
Six Refuses to Conform and First Speaks of Escape
Two takes Six to the labor exchange where they test Six to conform him to a role within the community. Inside we see creepy signs on the wall such as this one: “Questions are burdens to others. Answers a prison to oneself.”
True to form, Six refuses to answer the overly invasive questions asked of him. Therefore, he is not assigned a job; instead, he goes home.
He kicks the maid out because he doesn’t want the Village doing anything for him. He also searches everywhere for the music filling his house. He did not turn it on himself, therefore it must go. An announcement call for radio repair happens just as Six destroyed his radio speaker, showing the extent to which he is under surveillance.
The maid then returns and Six begins to grill her about whether anyone has ever escaped the Village. She is visibly uncomfortable with this. She also pleads with Six to tell her his secrets so she can get what she wants in return. It’s official: all the villagers work for the Village on all levels. It’s also official that Six is always being watched. This scene is being broadcast on a giant screen in the creepy camera room where both the unnamed director and Number Two are watching it play out.
This reinforces that Six is an important person with particularly special information in his head. Only necessary force is sanctioned, nothing extreme.
The Hospital Reveals the Extent of the Village’s Methods for Conforming
Six leaves his apartment and sneaks through the garden with the unnerving statues I described earlier. He sneaks past Rover, but the director is calling Station 14 to collect Number Six before his escape is finalized. Two men catch up with him on the beach and Six wins a round of fisticuffs. It takes Rover to stop him.
Six wakes up in a hospital with a creepily pleasant woman watching over him. When she leaves to get the doctor, Six notices an old colleague, Cobb, a few beds down. Then men exchange a few sentences and it’s revealed that Cobb is in the same boat as Six. But before anything else can be said, the doctor collects Six for his physical.
On the way, Six witnesses what group therapy looks like in the Village:
We hear Number Two conversing on the phone with an unknown party about Six’s progress, and we also learn that Six’s old clothes have been burned. The only clothes he has now are from the Village. Also, Cobb is declared dead after having jumped out a window, taking away an avenue of answers for Six.
The first thing Six does as he leaves the hospital is ditch the hat and his number badge. Then he makes an abrupt visit to the Green Dome.
The First New Number Two
Six wants answers from Number Two, but instead all he learns is that a different man wears the badge and sits in the office now. He announces himself as the new Number Two.
In the first episode, we learn that the power of the office is more important than the power of the individual in that office. You have to applaud the Village for message consistency.
The face may change, but the goal remains the same. The new Number Two is all business and matter-of-factly says, “I need facts.”
Six’s First Escape Plan
Back at his apartment, Six sees Cobb’s funeral procession and meets a villager woman who appears conflicted about the whole thing. They talk about Cobb, and how she and Cobb had a plan to escape but the Village got to him before they could enact it. In the episode’s final 12 minutes, she decides to help Six escape in the same manner.
Six sees her leave the Green Dome later on but he doesn’t know he wasn’t her assignment before then. She wants to help him anyway and tells Six they’re onto him so they have to move fast. He trusts her enough to try the plan. She gives him the device that will activate a helicopter. He moves past a suspicious Rover, gets in the helicopter, and takes off.
It looks like it’s going to work—at first—but then a villager tells the woman that she should learn to play chess, “because we’re all pawns, m’dear.” It looks like the woman was trustworthy after all. She was just playing a game rigged against her.
At that moment, the Director uses a remote control to bring Six’s helicopter right back to where it started.
Escape Is Predetermined to Fail
It turns out that Cobb was part of a plan to manipulate Six into revealing his secret. Send in someone he trusts from outside. Make Six feel that they’re in the same situation. Let them commiserate. What are you in for? Same thing you are, what secret are you holding onto?
But it didn’t work, and Cobb is not surprised by this. He says as much to the new Number Two, declaring Six a challenge for the Village. Not only do we know Six is seen as important, now we know he is seen as a formidable opponent.
Yet the episode still ends with the face of Six coming towards the screen, before prison bars slam shut on him before he can get to us. He did not escape, but they did not break him. Stalemate. This is the kind of victory we get in The Prisoner.
Who Is Number Six?
There are clues to this question’s answer: McGoohan played spy John Drake on his previous show, Danger Man. Most people think this is that character continuing into a new story. Another clue: when Six tells Number Two his birthday, the shot is of Patrick McGoohan right in front of the camera, telling us his own birthday. Is this show that meta? I would believe it.
We don’t know what occupation Six held in his previous life. He could be a spy, a politician, a scientist. He could have some other kind of job entirely, maybe in the military. We understand well the world he is in now, but we don’t know who he is or, for that matter, who his captors are. As Cobb—the only person with a spoken name—left the show for other masters, there’s a distinct feeling that names don’t belong on this show and they get ushered out the second we learn one.
Even though we may never know the names of characters, we understand the high concept and dynamic of Six’s struggle fairly well. This is a major victory of The Prisoner’s pilot, especially considering how out-there this concept was when it debuted in 1967.
What is the pilot’s other victory? It makes you need to watch the other 16 episodes. Get on it!
Two for Tuesday
GASLIGHTING: THE PSYCHOLOGY OF SHAPING ANOTHER’S REALITY

By Cynthia Chung
Source: Waking Times
“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”– Lewis Carroll’s “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”
We are living in a world where the degree of disinformation and outright lying has reached such a state of affairs that, possibly for the first time ever, we see the majority of the western world starting to question their own and surrounding level of sanity. The increasing frenzied distrust in everything “authoritative” mixed with the desperate incredulity that “everybody couldn’t possibly be in on it!” is slowly rocking many back and forth into a tighter and tighter straight jacket. “Question everything” has become the new motto, but are we capable of answering those questions?
Presently the answer is a resounding no.
The social behaviourist sick joke of having made everyone obsessed with toilet paper of all things during the start of what was believed to be a time of crisis, is an example of how much control they have over that red button labelled “commence initiation of level 4 mass panic”.
And can the people be blamed? After all, if we are being lied to, how can we possibly rally together and point the finger at the root of this tyranny, aren’t we at the point where it is everywhere?
As Goebbels infamously stated,
“If you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will eventually come to believe it. The lie can be maintained only for such time as the State can shield the people from the political, economic and/or military consequences of the lie. It thus becomes vitally important for the State to use all of its powers to repress dissent, for the truth is the mortal enemy of the lie, and thus by extension, the truth is the greatest enemy of the State [under fascism].”
And here we find ourselves today, at the brink of fascism. However, we have to first agree to forfeit our civil rights as a collective before fascism can completely dominate. That is, the big lie can only succeed if the majority fails to call it out, for if the majority were to recognise it for what it is, it would truly hold no power.
The Battle for Your Mind
“Politicians, Priests, and psychiatrists often face the same problem: how to find the most rapid and permanent means of changing a man’s belief…The problem of the doctor and his nervously ill patient, and that of the religious leader who sets out to gain and hold new converts, has now become the problem of whole groups of nations, who wish not only to confirm certain political beliefs within their boundaries, but to proselytize the outside world.”
– William Sargant “Battle of the Mind”
It had been commonly thought in the past, and not without basis, that tyranny could only exist on the condition that the people were kept illiterate and ignorant of their oppression. To recognise that one was “oppressed” meant they must first have an idea of what was “freedom”, and if one were allowed the “privilege” to learn how to read, this discovery was inevitable.
If education of the masses could turn the majority of a population literate, it was thought that the higher ideas, the sort of “dangerous ideas” that Mustapha Mond for instance expresses in “The Brave New World”, would quickly organise the masses and revolution against their “controllers” would be inevitable. In other words, knowledge is freedom, and you cannot enslave those who learn how to “think”.
However, it hasn’t exactly played out that way has it?
The greater majority of us are free to read whatever we wish to, in terms of the once “forbidden books”, such as those listed by The Index Librorum Prohibitorum. We can read any of the writings that were banned in “The Brave New World”, notably the works of Shakespeare which were named as absolutely dangerous forms of “knowledge”.
We are now very much free to “educate” ourselves on the very “ideas” that were recognised by tyrants of the past as the “antidote” to a life of slavery. And yet, today, the majority choose not to…
It is recognised, albeit superficially, that who controls the past, controls the present and thereby the future. George Orwell’s book “1984”, hammers this as the essential feature that allows the Big Brother apparatus to maintain absolute control over fear, perception and loyalty to the Party cause, and yet despite its popularity, there still remains a lack of interest in actually informing oneself about the past.
What does it matter anyway, if the past is controlled and rewritten to suit the present? As the Big Brother interrogator O’Brien states to Winston, “We, the Party, control all records, and we control all memories. Then we control the past, do we not? [And thus, are free to rewrite it as we choose…]”
Of course, we are not in the same situation as Winston…we are much better off. We can study and learn about the “past” if we so desire, unfortunately, it is a choice that many take for granted.
In fact, many are probably not fully aware that presently there is a battle waging for who will “control the past” in a manner that is closely resembling a form of “memory wipe”.
* * *
William Sargant was a British psychiatrist and, one could say, effectively the Father of “mind control” in the West, with connections to British Intelligence and the Tavistock Institute, which would influence the CIA and American military via the program MK Ultra. Sargant was also an advisor for Ewen Cameron’s LSD “blank slate” work at McGill University, funded by the CIA.
Sargant accounts for his reason in studying and using forms of “mind control” on his patients, which were primarily British soldiers that were sent back from the battlefield during WWII with various forms of “psychosis”, as the only way to rehabilitate extreme forms of PTSD.
The other reason, was because the Soviets had apparently become “experts” in the field, and out of a need for national security, the British would thus in turn have to become experts as well…as a matter of self-defence of course.
The work of Ivan Pavlov, a Russian physiologist, had succeeded in producing some disturbingly interesting insights into four primary forms of nervous systems in dogs, that were combinations of inhibitory and excitatory temperaments; “strong excitatory”, “balanced”, “passive” and “calm imperturbable”. Pavlov found that depending on the category of nervous system temperament the dog had, this in turn would dictate the form of “conditioning” that would work best to “reprogram behaviour”. The relevance to “human conditioning” was not lost on anyone.
It was feared in the West, that such techniques would not only be used against their soldiers to invoke free-flowing uninhibited confessions to the enemy but that these soldiers could be sent back to their home countries, as zombified assassins and spies that could be set off with a simple code word. At least, these were the thriller stories and movies that were pumped into the population. How horrific indeed! That the enemy could apparently enter what was thought the only sacred ground to be our own…our very “minds”!
However, for those who were actually leading the field in mind control research, such as William Sargant, it was understood that this was not exactly how mind control worked.
For one thing, the issue of “free will” was getting in the way.
No matter the length or degree of electro-shock, insulin “therapy”, tranquilizer cocktails, induced comas, sleep deprivation, starvation etc induced, it was discovered that if the subject had a “strong conviction” and “strong belief” in something, this could not be simply erased, it could not be written over with any arbitrary thing. Rather, the subject would have to have the illusion that their “conditioning” was in fact a “choice”. This was an extremely challenging task, and long term conversions (months to years) were rare.
However, Sargant saw an opening. It was understood that one could not create a new individual from scratch, however, with the right conditioning that was meant to lead to a physical breakdown using abnormal stress (effectively a reboot of the nervous system), one could increase the “suggestibility” markedly in their subjects.
Sargant wrote in his “Battle of the Mind”:
“Pavlov’s clinical descriptions of the ‘experimental neuroses’ which he could induce in dogs proved, in fact, to have a close correspondence with those war-neuroses which we were investigating at the time.”
In addition, Sargant found that a falsely implanted memory could help induce abnormal stress leading to emotional exhaustion and physical breakdown to invoke “suggestibility”. That is, one didn’t even need to have a “real stress” but an “imagined stress” would work just as effectively.
Sargant goes on to state in his book:
“It is not surprising that the ordinary person, in general, is much more easily indoctrinated than the abnormal…A person is considered ‘ordinary’ or ‘normal’ by the community simply because he accepts most of its social standards and behavioural patterns; which means, in fact, that he is susceptible to suggestion and has been persuaded to go with the majority on most ordinary or extraordinary occasions.”
Sargant then goes over the phenomenon of the London Blitz, which was an eight month period of heavy bombing of London during WWII. During this period, in order to cope and stay “sane”, people rapidly became accustomed to the idea that their neighbours could be and were buried alive in bombed houses around them. The thought was “If I can’t do anything about it what use is it that I trouble myself over it?” The best “coping” was thus found to be those who accepted the new “environment” and just focused on “surviving”, and did not try to resist it.
Sargant remarks that it is this “adaptability” to a changing environment which is part of the “survival” instinct and is very strong in the “healthy” and “normal” individual who can learn to cope and thus continues to be “functional” despite an ever changing environment.
It was thus our deeply programmed “survival instinct” that was found to be the key to the suggestibility of our minds. That the best “survivors” made for the best “brain-washing” in a sense.
Sargant quotes Hecker’s work, who was studying the dancing mania phenomenon that occurred during the Black Death, where Hecker observed that heightened suggestibility had the capability to cause a person to “embrace with equal force, reason and folly, good and evil, diminish the praise of virtue as well as the criminality of vice.”
And that such a state of mind was likened to the first efforts of the infant mind “this instinct of imitation when it exists in its highest degree, is also united a loss of all power over the will, which occurs as soon as the impression on the senses has become firmly established, producing a condition like that of small animals when they are fascinated by the look of a serpent.”
I wonder if Sargant imagined himself the serpent…
Sargant does finally admit:
“This does not mean that all persons can be genuinely indoctrinated by such means. Some will give only temporary submission to the demands made on them, and fight again when strength of body and mind returns. Others are saved by the supervention of madness. Or the will to resist may give way, but not the intellect itself.”
But he comforts himself as a response to this stubborn resistance that “As mentioned in a previous context, the stake, the gallows, the firing squad, the prison, or the madhouse, are usually available for the failures.”
How to Resist the Deconstruction of Your Mind
“He whom the gods wish to destroy, they first of all drive mad.”
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “The Masque of Pandora”
For those who have not seen the 1944 psychological thriller “Gaslight” directed by George Cukor, I would highly recommend you do so since there is an invaluable lesson contained within, that is especially applicable to what I suspect many of us are experiencing nowadays.
The story starts with a 14 year old Paula (played by Ingrid Bergman) who is being taken to Italy after her Aunt Alice Alquist, a famous opera singer and caretaker of Paula, is found murdered in her home in London. Paula is the one who found the body, and horror stricken is never her old self again. Her Aunt was the only family Paula had left in her life. The decision is made to send her away from London to Italy to continue her studies to become a world-renowned opera singer like her Aunt Alice.
Years go by, Paula lives a very sheltered life and a heavy somberness is always present within her, she can never seem to feel any kind of happiness. During her singing studies she meets a mysterious man (her piano accompanist during her lessons) and falls deeply in love with him. However, she knows hardly anything about the man named Gregory.
Paula agrees to marry Gregory after a two week romance and is quickly convinced to move back into her Aunt’s house in London that was left abandoned all these years. As soon as she enters the house, the haunting of the night of the murder revisits her and she is consumed with panic and fear. Gregory tries to calm her and talks about the house needing just a little bit of air and sun, and then Paula comes across a letter written to her Aunt from a Sergis Bauer which confirms that he was in contact with Alice just a few days before her murder. At this finding, Gregory becomes bizarrely agitated and grabs the letter from Paula. He quickly tries to justify his anger blaming the letter for upsetting her. Gregory then decides to lock all of her Aunt’s belongings in the attic, to apparently spare Paula any further anguish.
It is at this point that Gregory starts to change his behaviour dramatically. Always under the pretext for “Paula’s sake”, everything that is considered “upsetting” to Paula must be removed from her presence. And thus quickly the house is turned into a form of prison. Paula is told it is for her best not to leave the house unaccompanied, not to have visitors and that self-isolation is the best remedy for her “anxieties” which are getting worst. Paula is never strictly forbidden at the beginning but rather is told that she should obey these restrictions for her own good.
Before a walk, he gives as a gift a beautiful heirloom brooch that belonged to his mother. Because the pin needs replacing, he instructs Paula to keep it in her handbag, and then says rather out of context, “Don’t forget where you put it now Paula, I don’t want you losing it.” Paula remarks thinking the warning absurd, “Of course I won’t forget!” When they return from their walk, Gregory asks for the brooch, Paula searches in her handbag but it is not there.
It continues on like this, with Gregory giving warnings and reminders, seemingly to help Paula with her “forgetfulness” and “anxieties”. Paula starts to question her own judgement and sanity as these events become more and more frequent. She has no one else to talk to but Gregory, who is the only witness to these apparent mishaps. It gets to a point where completely nonsensical behaviour is being attributed to Paula by Gregory. A painting is found missing on the wall one night. Gregory talks to Paula like she is a 5 year child and asks her to put it back. Paula insists she does not know who took it down. After her persistent passionate insistence that it was not her, she walks up the stairs almost like she were in a dream state and pulls the painting from behind a statue. Gregory asks why she lied, but Paula insists that she only thought to look there because that is where it was found the last two times this occurred.
For weeks now, Paula thinks she has been seeing things, the gas lights of the house dimming for no reason, she also hears footsteps above her bedroom. No one else seems to take notice. Paula is also told by Gregory that he found out that her mother, who passed away when she was very young, had actually gone insane and died in an asylum.
Despite Paula being reduced to a condition of an ongoing stupor, she decides one night to make a stand and regain control over her life. Paula is invited, by one of her Aunt Alice’s close friends Lady Dalroy, to attend a high society evening with musical performances. Recall that Paula’s life gravitated around music before her encounter with Gregory. Music was her life. Paula gets magnificently dressed up for the evening and on her way out tells Gregory that she is going to this event. Gregory tries to convince her that she is not well enough to attend such a social gathering, when Paula calmly insists that she is going and that this woman was a dear friend of her Aunt, Gregory answers that he refuses to accompany her (in those days that was a big deal). Paula accepts this and walks with a solid dignity, undeterred towards the horse carriage. In a very telling scene, Gregory is left momentarily by himself and panic stricken, his eyes bulging he snaps his cigar case shut and runs after Paula. He laughingly calls to her, “Paula, you did not think I was serious? I had no idea that this party meant so much to you. Wait, I will get ready.” As he is getting ready in front of the mirror, a devilish smirk appears.
Paula and Gregory show up to Lady Dalroy’s house late, the pianist is in the middle of the 1st movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata #8 in C minor. They quickly are escorted to two empty seats. Paula is immediately immersed in the piece, and Gregory can see his control is slipping. After only a few minutes, he goes to look at his pocket watch but it is not in his pocket. He whispers into Paula’s ear, “My watch is missing”. Immediately, Paula looks like she is going to be sick. Gregory takes her handbag and Paula looks in horror as he pulls out his pocket watch, insinuating that Paula had put it there. She immediately starts losing control and has a very public emotional breakdown. Gregory takes her away, as he remarks to Lady Dalroy that this is why he didn’t want Paula coming in the first place.
When they arrive home, Paula has by now completely succumbed to the thought that she is indeed completely insane. Gregory says that it would be best if they go away somewhere for an indefinite period of time. We later find out that Gregory is intending on committing her to an asylum. Paula agrees to leave London with Gregory and leaves her fate entirely in his hands.
In the case of Paula it is clear. She has been suspecting that Gregory has something to do with her “situation” but he has very artfully created an environment where Paula herself doubts whether this is a matter of unfathomable villainy or whether she is indeed going mad.
It is rather because she is not mad that she doubts herself, because there is seemingly no reason for why Gregory would put so much time and energy into making it look like she were mad, or at least so it first appears. But what if the purpose to her believing in her madness was simply a matter of who is in control?
Paula almost succeeds in gaining the upper-hand in this power-struggle, the evening she decided to go out on her own no matter what Gregory insisted was in her best interest. If she would have held her ground at Lady Dalroy’s house and simply replied, “I have no idea why your stupid watch ended up in my handbag and I could care less. Now stop interrupting this performance, you are making a scene!” Gregory’s spell would have been broken as simple as that. If he were to complain to others about the situation, they would also respond, “Who cares man, why are you so obsessed about your damn watch?”
We find ourselves today in a very similar situation to Paula. And the voice of Gregory is represented by the narrative of false news and the apocalyptic social behaviourist programming in our forms of entertainment. The things most people voluntarily subject themselves to on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Socially conditioning them, like a pack of salivating Pavlovian dogs, to think it is just a matter of time before the world ends and with a ring of their master’s bell…be at each other’s throats.
Paula ends up being saved in the end by a man named Joseph Cotten (a detective), who took notice and quickly discerned that something was amiss. In the end Gregory is arrested. It is revealed that Gregory is in fact Sergis Bauer. That he killed Alice Alquist and that he has returned to the scene of the crime after all these years in search for the famous jewels of the opera singer. The jewels were in fact rather worthless from the standpoint that they were too famous to be sold, however, Gregory never intended on selling these jewels but rather had become obsessed with the desire to merely possess them.
That is, it is Gregory who has been entirely mad all this time.
A Gregory is absolutely dangerous. He would have been the end of Paula if nothing had intervened. However, the power that Gregory held was conditional to the degree that Paula allowed it to control her. Paula’s extreme deconstruction was thus entirely dependent on her choice to let the voice of Gregory in. That is, a Gregory is only dangerous if we allow ourselves to sleep walk into the nightmare he has constructed for us.
“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone,
“it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less.”
“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean so many different things.”
“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master – – that’s all.”– Lewis Carroll’s “Through the Looking Glass”
Saturday Matinee: M.C. Escher: Journey to Infinity

By Matt Zoller Seitz
Source: RogerEbert.com
Documentaries about visual artists tend to be so boringly conceived—talk about the life, show a picture, talk about the life, show another picture—that you may not realize what you’ve been missing until you see one as excellent as “M.C. Escher: Journey to Infinity.”
Written and directed by Robin Lutz, this is a rare feature that takes the trouble not just to understand its subject and communicate his significance, but find ways to show us, visually, how his style evolved, and the principles behind that evolution.
The tale begins with the standard-issue “This is a movie about a great artist, here are a few summary details abut his life and art,” with some landscape and architecture shots and images of Escher’s work. Then it becomes increasingly daring and fanciful, yet always remaining in service to the M.C. Escher, the Dutch draftsman and printmaker whose art became internationally famous during the post-World War II era.
Escher was a rare artist who managed to combine his influences into something genuinely new. His work is a geometric/mathematical surrealist vision of the objectively perceivable world, but also a subjective interior, evoking ancient Arabic-North African graphics; the Salvador Dali-Pablo Picasso-Georges Braque anti-realist sensibilities of the ’20s and ’30s, and computer models that would not become popular until decades after Escher’s own experiments.
Lutz and his collaborators, including a team of graphic designers and animators, make Escher’s art come to life in surprising and amusing ways, from having one of his trademark salamanders appear in an otherwise “realistic” frame and travel across increasingly “unreal” panoramas until we’re in an Escher print, to re-imagining intricately patterned Escher artworks so that we seem to glide along them, or into them/through them. This happens slowly enough so that we can appreciate how deftly the artist translated negative space into positive space, in ways that made the distinction seem arbitrary: for instance, the black spaces between joined silhouettes of lizards or amphibians might become black birds with white spaces between them, then go back again. Or people and animals might move along one stretch of diagonal stairs and jump to another, seeming to go upside down or sideways, in defiance of gravity, emphasizing the brain-teasing techniques Escher perfected.
Lutz and his team have found a cinematic analogy for the movement of the eye over static pictorial art reproduced in a book or hanging on a museum wall. The movie is especially good at evoking that “wow” moment when you realize that a thing you were looking at has turned into another thing. It’s explaining the magic trick without ruining the magic, a magic trick of a different sort.
This approach is so dazzling that one wishes the filmmakers had pushed it a bit further, deploying it even more often, or in more and subtler variations—perhaps figuring out a way to have the film itself flip back on itself structurally at key points, or end precisely where it started, so that the project itself seemed to have no beginning or end. (There’s a hint of this, but not much more.)
Musician Graham Nash, a devotee of Escher who contacted him late in his life, says Escher dismissed the idea that he was an artist. Throughout the movie, we hear Escher align himself with scientists and mathematicians, often trashing his own skills as a representational draftsman and speaking of his heroes and colleagues with awe.
This isn’t to say that Escher was down on himself at all times, or that that he entirely rejected the notion he was making art. Escher’s letters, performed in voice-over by actor Stephen Fry, make it clear that he challenged himself to improve his abilities and expand his vision and grew irritable when stuck in a groove. And yet there was always a sense—particularly once Escher hit his forties and realized he was indeed a global phenomenon—that a “real” artist wouldn’t be as entertaining. This is the world’s misconception, not Escher’s, but it’s still a shame that he let himself feel diminished by it. There’s power and profundity in Escher’s art, yet the puzzle-box aspect is what pulls you into it.
The movie makes a case that we should talk about Escher the way we talk about one of his inspirations, Johann Sebastian Bach, who like Escher was clever as well as substantive. Escher earned the comparison. Why do we resist it? Perhaps there’s still something in us, even this late into human development, that worries that if you’re having fun, it can’t be art. Escher struggled with that misconception, too, right up to the end.
Watch M.C. Escher: Journey to Infinity on Kanopy here: https://www.kanopy.com/product/mc-escher-journey-infinity