On 2011-10-23 22:51, LobowolfXXX wrote:
Like Whit's Huck Finn.

On 2011-10-24 11:49, kcg5 wrote:
BRAZIL!!!!!!!!!


without the happy ending crap

On 2011-10-24 12:06, Salguod Nairb wrote:

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On 2011-10-24 11:49, kcg5 wrote:
BRAZIL!!!!!!!!!


without the happy ending crap

There are two endings to the film. One Gillham hated, one he didn't.
Great surreal movie, but I wouldn't consider a lobotomy a happy ending.


My vote is Naked Lunch.

On 2011-10-24 12:04, landmark wrote:
Apocalypse Now.

On 2011-10-24 12:38, BillMcCloskey wrote:
My Dinner with Andre

On 2011-10-24 12:43, Magnus Eisengrim wrote:

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On 2011-10-24 12:04, landmark wrote:
Apocalypse Now.

But still a pale shadow of Conrad's novel.

John

On 2011-10-24 13:01, LobowolfXXX wrote:

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On 2011-10-24 12:43, Magnus Eisengrim wrote:

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On 2011-10-24 12:04, landmark wrote:
Apocalypse Now.

But still a pale shadow of Conrad's novel.

John

I've always been astounded that Heart of Darkness was written in Conrad's THIRD (!!!!!!) language.

"'I have been very happy -- very fortunate -- very proud,' she went on. 'Too fortunate. Too happy for a little while. And now I am unhappy for -- for life.'

"She stood up; her fair hair seemed to catch all the remaining light in a glimmer of gold. I rose, too.

"'And of all this,' she went on mournfully, 'of all his promise, and of all his greatness, of his generous mind, of his noble heart, nothing remains -- nothing but a memory. You and I -- '

"'We shall always remember him,' I said hastily.

"'No!' she cried. 'It is impossible that all this should be lost -- that such a life should be sacrificed to leave nothing -- but sorrow. You know what vast plans he had. I knew of them, too -- I could not perhaps understand -- but others knew of them. Something must remain. His words, at least, have not died.'

"'His words will remain,' I said.

"'And his example,' she whispered to herself. 'Men looked up to him -- his goodness shone in every act. His example -- '

"'True,' I said; 'his example, too. Yes, his example. I forgot that.'

"But I do not. I cannot -- I cannot believe -- not yet. I cannot believe that I shall never see him again, that no-body will see him again, never, never, never.'

"She put out her arms as if after a retreating figure, stretching them back and with clasped pale hands across the fading and narrow sheen of the window. Never see him! I saw him clearly enough then. I shall see this eloquent phantom as long as I live, and I shall see her, too, a tragic and familiar Shade, resembling in this gesture another one, tragic also, and bedecked with powerless charms, stretching bare brown arms over the glitter of the infernal stream, the stream of darkness. She said suddenly very low, 'He died as he lived.'

"'His end,' said I, with dull anger stirring in me, 'was in every way worthy of his life.'

"'And I was not with him,' she murmured. My anger subsided before a feeling of infinite pity.

"'Everything that could be done -- ' I mumbled.

"'Ah, but I believed in him more than any one on earth -- more than his own mother, more than -- himself. He needed me! Me! I would have treasured every sigh, every word, every sign, every glance.'

"I felt like a chill grip on my chest. 'Don't,' I said, in a muffled voice.

"'Forgive me. I -- I have mourned so long in silence -- in silence. . . . You were with him -- to the last? I think of his loneliness. Nobody near to understand him as I would have understood. Perhaps no one to hear. . . .'

"'To the very end,' I said, shakily. 'I heard his very last words. . . .' I stopped in a fright.

"'Repeat them,' she murmured in a heart-broken tone. 'I want -- I want -- something -- something -- to -- to live with.'

"I was on the point of crying at her, 'Don't you hear them?' The dusk was repeating them in a persistent whisper all around us, in a whisper that seemed to swell menacingly like the first whisper of a rising wind. 'The horror! The horror!'

"'His last word -- to live with,' she insisted. 'Don't you understand I loved him -- I loved him -- I loved him!'

"I pulled myself together and spoke slowly.

"'The last word he pronounced was -- your name.'

"I heard a light sigh and then my heart stood still, stopped dead short by an exulting and terrible cry, by the cry of inconceivable triumph and of unspeakable pain. 'I knew it -- I was sure!' . . . She knew. She was sure. I heard her weeping; she had hidden her face in her hands. It seemed to me that the house would collapse before I could escape, that the heavens would fall upon my head. But nothing happened. The heavens do not fall for such a trifle. Would they have fallen, I wonder, if I had rendered Kurtz that justice which was his due? Hadn't he said he wanted only justice? But I couldn't. I could not tell her. It would have been too dark -- too dark altogether. . . ."

Marlow ceased, and sat apart, indistinct and silent, in the pose of a meditating Buddha. Nobody moved for a time. "We have lost the first of the ebb," said the Director suddenly. I raised my head. The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed sombre under an overcast sky -- seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.

On 2011-10-24 14:15, Magnus Eisengrim wrote:
If you ask me name my favourite novel, about 60% of the time, I'll say Heart of Darkness.

John

On 2011-10-24 14:15, Magnus Eisengrim wrote:
Great excerpt, and yes, it is everything at the end of the book. If you ask me name my favourite novel, about 60% of the time, I'll say Heart of Darkness.

John