For one of my classes in film studies, required by my Masters degree in Communications and Education I had to view and critique the film, The Conformist (Bernardo Bertolucci, 1970). It is a case study in the psychology of conformism and fascism. Marcello Clerici is an intellectual largely dehumanized by an intense need to be 'normal' and to belong to whatever is the current dominant socio-political group. He grew up in an upper class, dysfunctional family, raped as a child by an older man, and terribly affected by a gun violence episode in which he long believed (erroneously) that he had killed his chauffeur. He accepts an assignment from the fascist government to assassinate his former mentor; a move that results from lack of principles in the interests of building a supposedly socially integrated life; marked by a strong feeling of impotence.
For reasons that cannot be explained in their totality the movie appears in my memory radar the day a hurricane was expected to pass over Puerto Rico. During this volatile season in the Caribbean, a lot of preparations are required: bottle water, canned and dried goods, food that does not need to be refrigerated, gas stoves, flashlights, protect windows and doors, to know where the nearby shelters are located in case the apartment is blown away by the winds, flooded. I did not do any of that; laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling, motionless, waiting for the Arawak named, "jurakán", nature created, destructive or earth cleansing system, force. The hurricane changed routes. Glad it did not take me with it. I felt, somehow, cleansed, without any heavy weight inside me, light, connected to the community, neither sucked-in or overwhelmed by it, alive.
I went out, walked around shopped, decided to give money to the neighborhood homeless, many of them addicts, so they could buy food; perhaps, drugs that will make them feel powerful, free for a few minutes. After coming back home, I read an article on a young a Czechoslovakian, Adolf Kolinsky, who was able to join the German military during the Second World War, and got assigned to a concetration camp, where he served as a spy for the allies; met a prisoner, another Czechoslvakian, Julius Fucik, a newspaper writer, providing him with blank pages that later on became the material for the book, Reportaje al pie del patíbulo, edited by Gusta Fucikova after the war. She was Fucik's wife and had also been incarcerated in a concentration camp, and was able to put the book together with the help of Kolinsky, who had also gotten the manuscripts out of the camp and had them distributed among different allies to be saved for future generations, not only to know about the horrors, but about how to face human-made hurricanes. Conformism and impotence come and go.
For reasons that cannot be explained in their totality the movie appears in my memory radar the day a hurricane was expected to pass over Puerto Rico. During this volatile season in the Caribbean, a lot of preparations are required: bottle water, canned and dried goods, food that does not need to be refrigerated, gas stoves, flashlights, protect windows and doors, to know where the nearby shelters are located in case the apartment is blown away by the winds, flooded. I did not do any of that; laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling, motionless, waiting for the Arawak named, "jurakán", nature created, destructive or earth cleansing system, force. The hurricane changed routes. Glad it did not take me with it. I felt, somehow, cleansed, without any heavy weight inside me, light, connected to the community, neither sucked-in or overwhelmed by it, alive.
I went out, walked around shopped, decided to give money to the neighborhood homeless, many of them addicts, so they could buy food; perhaps, drugs that will make them feel powerful, free for a few minutes. After coming back home, I read an article on a young a Czechoslovakian, Adolf Kolinsky, who was able to join the German military during the Second World War, and got assigned to a concetration camp, where he served as a spy for the allies; met a prisoner, another Czechoslvakian, Julius Fucik, a newspaper writer, providing him with blank pages that later on became the material for the book, Reportaje al pie del patíbulo, edited by Gusta Fucikova after the war. She was Fucik's wife and had also been incarcerated in a concentration camp, and was able to put the book together with the help of Kolinsky, who had also gotten the manuscripts out of the camp and had them distributed among different allies to be saved for future generations, not only to know about the horrors, but about how to face human-made hurricanes. Conformism and impotence come and go.
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