Showing posts with label Brando. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brando. Show all posts

Friday, 19 October 2018

The Secondary Fathers — Julius Caeser





Textbook Joseph Campbell.

The way Campbell explained it, 
Young Men need a Secondary Father to finish raising them.

Beyond their Biological Father, they need a surrogate, traditionally a 
minister 
or a 
coach 
or a 
military officer.

The floatsam and jetsam of a generation washed up on the beach of last resort.

That's why street gangs are so appealing. 
They send you men out, like 
Knights on Quests 
 to hone their skills and improve themselves.

And all the TRADITIONAL Mentors -- forget it.

Men are presumptive predators. 

They're leaving Teaching in 
droves.

Religious Leaders are  
pariahs.

Sports Coaches are stigmatized as 
odds-on pedophiles.

Even The Military is sketchy with 
sexual goings-on.


A Generation of Apprentices 
Without Masters.

Saturday, 7 July 2018

Burn!

In Which Marlon Brando portrays 
The Devil.

The Blue-Eyed Devil.

The Magnificent Blonde Beast.

What is needed here is someone with courage.
Someone who knows he has nothing to lose, and yet is not afraid.


Observe.


You, there! Who gave you that money?
Give it back to me!

Immediately!

You see?




Ingls!
Ingls, when did you get back?
 
The Devil :
Me? I never left.
I've been here all the time.
 
Here? And The Boat?

The Devil :
 Never existed.
 
And The Gold?

The Devil :
 Back in The Bank.

Sure, and I'm still a porter.
It's all the same as before, eh?
 
The Devil :
If I had told you, Jos, to Start a Revolution...
You wouldn't have understood me.
 
To rob a bank, yes, that was possible.
First, you learned to kill in order to defend yourself.

And later you had to kill to defend others.
 
And the rest came by itself.
And you?
What do you get?
 
The Devil :
Nothing.
Salary from the British Admiralty.
A rather modest one.

And England, what is her part in this?
 
The Devil :
Portugal is England's enemy...
and if the English ships were not in the port of Queimada...
The Portuguese would already have returned.
 
And how many English ships are there?

The Devil :
 Don't be too ambitious, Jos.

No, I just asked.

Ramn, Pedro, Andrs, that's enough now.
 You dance in town.

The Devil :
 It might be better if you camped here, Jos.
It would be better.

But they have fought and suffered, and they have won, Ingls.

They have a right to go to The City.

The Devil :
 Well, they'll have plenty of time for that,
All The Time in The World.






Sir William Walker: 
Gentlemen, let me ask you a question. 

Now, my metaphor may seem a trifle impertinent, but I think it's very much to the point. 

Which do you prefer 
- or should I say, which do you find more convenient
a wife, or one of these mulatto girls? 

No, no, please don't misunderstand: 
I am talking strictly in terms of Economics. 

What is the cost of the product? 

What does the product yield? 

The product, in this case, being love - 
uh, purely physical love, since sentiments obviously play no part in Economics. 

[general laughter

Quite. 

Now, a wife must be provided with a home, with food, with dresses, with medical attention, etc, etc. 

You're obliged to keep her a whole lifetime even when she's grown old and perhaps a trifle unproductive

And then, of course, if you have the bad luck to survive her, you have to pay for the funeral! 

[general laughter

It's True, isn't it? 
Gentlemen, I know it's amusing, but 

Those are The Facts
aren't they? 

Now with a prostitute, on the other hand, it's quite a different matter, isn't it? 

You see, there's no need to lodge her or feed her, certainly no need to dress her or to bury her, thank God. 

She's yours only when you need her, you pay her only for that service, and you pay her by the hour! 

Which, gentlemen, is more important - and more convenient

A Slave 
or 
A Paid Worker?

JUDAS WAS PAID




Stinking, lying, black ape!
You filthy thief, you did steal my bags, didn't you?


Jos Dolores :
Sim.

The Devil :
Well, where are they now?


Jos Dolores :
 I don't know. 
I don't know anymore.
 
 The Devil :
But you did steal them, didn't you?
 
 
Jos Dolores :
Sim.

 The Devil :
It is True, isn't it? 


Jos Dolores :
Yes.

The Devil :
No, it's not True.
You did not steal them.
You gave them to my friend, that's all.
Nobody stole them. 

Do you understand?
 

Jos Dolores :
Sim.

The Devil :
So, you did not steal them?
Then why did you say you did?
Because I said you did?
Jos Dolores :
Yes, senhor.

The Devil :
Because anything a white man says is right, isn't it?


Jos Dolores :
Yes, senhor.

The Devil :
If I were to say - 
That your mother was a whore...
Would that be True?
 
Is it True?
 

Jos Dolores :
My mother is dead.

The Devil :
But you knew her, didn't you?
 

Jos Dolores :
Sim.

The Devil :
What was she?
Say what she was!
Go on! What was she?
Go on, say what she was!
Say it!


Jos Dolores :
 ...a whore, senhor.

The Devil :
Well, I was mistaken.
I thought you were someone else.
What's your name?


Jos Dolores :
 Jos Dolores.

The Devil :
Here you are, Jos. Forget about it.
It was just a bad joke.
 
The Devil :
Come on. Let's go then!
Well, now I believe we have something
to talk about.