I always wanted to read the Tristram Shandy novel, a most certainly wonderful work of diversion and inventiveness. In the time I started it, already two, three chapters into a very bibliophile edition, I was desparately trapped by an ‚amour fou‘, so I gave it away, as a birthday present, to a wonderful woman I‘ve sadly lost on my zigzagging ways due to a lack of ‚Achtsamkeit‘. A book that surely belongs to the category of „opening our gates of perception“. Like Julio Cortazar‘s „Rayuela“, like John D. MacDonald‘s „Abschied in Dunkelblau“. (Oh, I can very well live without Peter Handke‘s flow of words, but to miss a great story with a dog, is hard to stand.)
Or, in the world of movies, Dennis Villeneuve‘s „Blade Runner 2049“. Last year, I saw this masterpiece on a big screen in Manchester, and I have been still endlessly thrilled by watching it again, yesterday, in my „Electric Cinema“. (In contrast, the gay love story of the highly praised „Call Me By Your Name“ is totally boring, imo). In fact, this is a movie that belongs to the rare class of like-minded surrealism of „Pan‘s Lanyrinth“ or „Mulholland Drive“. Revisiting the latest incarnation of „Blade Runner“, I was, strange enough, reminded of an incident of my own life:
A brown-cheeked Amazon named Bess
with wings spread is sitting on an old tree trunk,
clearly enjoying the warm tropical rain.
My first words: „I want to love you till the morning comes“.
I’m the lucky one, she‘s painting my face with saliva.
I divert. It took some time to realize that Hans Zimmer has written, at least co-composed, the soundtrack, and though I think he is smart, decent and slightly overrated, this is the first of his soundtracks that really kicks me. Maybe because of his companion, or some old Vangelis-fuelled inspiration:) Similar to the awesome return of „Twin Peaks“, it makes much more sense to watch and hopefully get lost in these moving pictures, if you have seen the first movie by Ridley Scott, respectively the first two seasons of Lynch‘s game-changer of TV history.