VS was kind enough to invite me to charlar earlier in the week to watch "The Motorcycle Diaries". Charlar, you ask? Once a week some Spanish speakers get together to watch a film in Spanish, followed by a short discussion in... Spanish.
A very good idea, me thinks. The film is a buldingsgroman of Ernesto "Che" Guevara and I thought it was high time I meet the man.
Our hero sets out via motorcycle (half the journey and then it breaks down) with his pal, Alberto Granado on a road trip all across and along South America in the 1950's. The script focuses on the human transformation of the two young Argentine professionals, who decide to see their continent with their own eyes. The film concentrates on how the world changed Che, which in turn led him to try to change the world.
I can't stop listening to Kings of Convenience lately, so let's not rock to boat. Here is "Gold For The Price of Silver" off of Versus. I would like to think that Che would have liked to listen to this song as he swam across the Amazon on his birthday to get to the leper colony. Wow. See the movie...
Gold For The Price Of Silver
Interesting. I'm showing this movie in my 202 courses next week. It's got everything - geography, lots of different Spanish accents, social commentary, sexual tension, swearing, a tiny bit of violence.
Good film.
I caught this with some friends tonight, and we all loved it. All apologies for the length here. You all must see the film, then read on.
The opening statement of the movie is one to contemplate:
Oh, and I ain't talkin Triumph the Insult Comic Dog (For Me to Poop on?). That would've been an inappropriate, yet interesting addition.
A thougt provoking post to be sure. Personally, it struck a resonant chord, because in my youth I had a similar experience. I'm reminded of the time when I was a young lad, no older than three years, and I took a monumental, dare I even say life changing, Big Wheel ride up and down the streets of my upwardly mobile neighborhood. In the family photo album there is a picture of me perched atop my red, yellow, and blue hog; brimming with confidence and excited for the adventures that lay ahead. I only wish that there was an after shot conveying the world-weary mask that overtook my visage by the end of this epic trek. The transformation was truly startling. Autumn was upon us and the dead leaves had already begun to drop from the numerous oak trees that lined our street. As I pedaled past one poor souls house, I noticed him raking up the collection that adorned his otherwise maticulously manicured lawn. I remember the deep sadness that I felt for this man as I thought to myself, "My mommy and daddy hire poeple to do the grunt work." A few doors down, I saw one of my neighborhood playmate's grandmother pushing her walker along the sidewalk. For a full yard length I screamed at her to get out of the way and that I didn't know how to stop my formidable three-wheeled beast. Unfortunately, her feeble bones and deteriorated musculature were unable to whisk her out of harms way. As I barreled her over and then subsequently rode away as fast as possible for fear of being caught and punished, I was shocked at the strenght of the piercing howl that eminated from such a dilapidated, old body. I still wake up in the middle of the night, haunted by the resonate cracking sound of her hip bone splitting in half.
Needless to say, that trip changed my life. It shaped the way I think and helped define my world-view. For years the neighborhood kids called me "Che" Furbera (Except the ones whose grandmother I ran over. They just ran away crying whenever I approached). Looking back, I'm astounded that a group of toddlers were able to make such an insightful correlation. Were this movie not already an examplpe of art imitating life, I would say that this movie is a perfect example of life imitating art.
Thunderpants, I truly hope you've learned a valuable lesson from this journey, and able to overcome your Gerontophobia and violence against women.
If you are indeed still haunted from this experience, and struggling to comprehend your actions from so long ago, I may be able to pull from Psych 101 freshman year. Freudian theory might reveal that your Big Wheel represents the superego as the agent of the death instinct in its cruel and aggressive need for punishment. You may need to take a long, hard look at your Ego's functionality in mediating between the Id, the Superego, and the external world to balance your primitive drives, moral ideals and taboos.
Help is available:
Trusted, Effective Treatment for Fear Of Old People :
http://www.changethatsrightnow.com/problem_detail.asp?SDID=1371:1566...
[5] correction..."inadvertent" violence against women and "subsequent, guilt-driven" Gerontophobia. You're not a monster, after all.
[6] Jules,
The thought that I was a monster never crossed my mind and, frankly, I'm surprised that you interpreted my experience as such. Quite the contrary, I consider myself, much like Che to be a liberator. Specifiaclly, it was during this life altering expedition that I first realized my purpose in life was to liberate the world of geriatric excess. There was a defining moment in Che's life when he dropped his medical supplies so that he could pick up his fleeing comrades dropped amunition durring their initial forray into Cuba. He credits this action as the moment he stopped being a doctor and started being a soldier. Similarily, when I chose not to veer of the sidewalk to save the neighbors grandmother but rather to plow into her with all the force of miniature mack truck I sealed my own fate. It was in that instance that I realized my self-sacrifice would pale in comparison to the good that I could achieve by ridding the world of as many nonagenarians as possible. As we fight an ever growing over population crisis, my methods may seam harsh, but my crusade is just. It's time for us to collectively stand up and say, "you old work horses have served your purpose well and now it's time to be put out to pasture."
Unfortunately Jules, no good deed can go unpunished. So, I will take solace in the knowledge that the thunderous crack that haunts my dreams is not the breaking of a fragile human life, but rather the first shot volleyed in the quest for world stability.
Ya mammas thunderous crack haunts my dreams.
snap.
eSwede, excuse me, King Wookie, I thought you would appreciate a post on the Spanish tip, thanks for your comments.
Sweet Jebus, Thunder, your consistent hilarity brightens my days exponentially.
Jules, thanks for your insight, I too believe that the film showed the revolucion was for everyone and that Che's swim across the Amazon was a swim for mankind.
I love you all more than words.
Group hug!!
You've been dying to use buldingsroman in a sentence all year, haven't you? Busted!
C$,
I believe the word is bildungsroman, and speaking of personal growth of the main character, your mom experienced the personal growth of my main character last night.
Double snap!
I think the most interesting point about this conversation is that the central character in this movie, Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, has unwittingly undergone a startling posthumous transformation from heroic symbol of all things revolutionary and social justice to corporate whore. Ever since socially-conscious group Rage Against the Machine put Che on the front of one of their t-shirts, college and high-school kids all over this country have taken upon themselves to proudly display his image wherever one may turn. That they don't know who he was is secondary. His importance has become one of a 'safe' revolutionary; the young bourgeoise can rally around him without actually knowing what he stood for. Ignorance is bliss.
This film sheds a bit of light on his character, though it never actually touches his involvement in the Cuban Revolution, his relationship with Fidel Castro, their subsequent estrangement, and his eventual death at the hands of the CIA in Bolivia.
They also left out the part about me taking it to Mrs. C$ last Thurday. That was the [sic] true climax of the film.
I am currently reading Long Way Round (http://www.longwayround.com ). The only similarity i believe is people are traveling the world on motorbike.
They are not yet to the US yet in the book, once they do, I will be sure & tell you all of C$'s mom's exploits. Thunder, i'll be as graphic as possible.
I'd like to hear the rest of the story, and don't have much time to read right now other than my thesis crap. I did see Evita, which represented Che, but in reality I don't think Eva Peron and Che Guevara never met.
Any other movies to recommend? Listed on this site are some other movies about the rest of the story...about Che the Marxist revolutionary and Cuban guerrilla leader:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Che_Guevara...
War ain't pretty, (and not to be insensitive), but it sure gets attention. Estimates vary, but the sources say that 156 - 1,897 prisoners were executed under the 6-month rule of Comandante Guevera, Supreme Prosecutor of La Caba_
I like to see everyone jumping on the bandwagon as ferociously as I jumped on C$'s mom last night.
[16]
Did she ride your "Mighty One", Che Furbera?
I'm not sure if the Che character in Evita is the same as the one in Motorcycle diaries. I think they just share a first name, but little else. I don't know if Guevara had much of a penchant for song and dance.
Anyway, enough motorcycle dickery.
Never enough motorcycle dickory, King W. Or should I say never enough C$ dickory in thunder's, Dale's, jule's and your mom?
[19] Oh! Snappity Snap Snap Snap. Snapper Snap. Snap Snap.
Snap.
"Hickory Dickory Dock, C$'s mom was suckin' my cock. The clock struck two, I dropped my goo and dumped the bitch on the next block."
Rather harsh, me thinks.
Here's one that invokes images of Baby Thunder on his big wheel:
http://www.videocure.com/music-video-code/a/1db24ee5106f04c1cb1c79931e7ef832.html...