A complete analysis of Finnegan's Wake would require a lifetime's worth of knowledge and effort, as it consumed all of Joyce's powers and creativity for two decades. However, it not necessary to understand all the sixty-odd languages used, the endless allusions and elusions and illusions, or even the basic workings of the narrative in order to enjoy the many aesthetic qualities of the book.
If you enjoy any sort poetry on a sound level alone, Joyce is a master poet, just on his ability to hear, combine, mutilate, mate, bowdlerize, satirize words. This weekly series will highlight fragments chosen at random because, as someone once told me, you can literally turn to any page of Finnegan's Wake and find something interesting and beautiful.
"Chuffy was a nangel then and his soard fleshed light like likening. Fools top! Singty, sangty, meekly loose, defendy nous from prowlabouts. Make a shine on the curst. Emen." (pg 222)
The first sentence already demonstrates the prolific amount of puns and portmanteaus. Also, in a contextual view, the combination of the sacred and profane. Just by shifting a letter, "a nangel" suggests a hard "g" sound, sounding close to angle or mongrel, or perhaps the name Nagel. There is an "Anne Nagel" silent actress. Perhaps Joyce was an avid moviegoer? Regardless, the notion of an "angel" is already removed from the divine both by this transposition, and the name Chuffy--something that is fat and swollen or rude and morose.
The next part of this sentence again combines the sacred and profane. "Soard" is an archaic spelling of "sward" which is defined either as green turf or bacon rinds, however it also can be seen as the "sword" of the angel, referencing Ezekiel 21, or Michael from Paradise Lost who brandishes the sword to protect Eden, or as "soar'd" as "in flight". "Fleshed" is a pun on "flashed" but again references the body or the worldly. "Likening" is a pun for "lightning" and it seems in context to be pronounced "like-ning", yet it also is its own word. The metaphor then becomes a beautiful inversion, comparing all the previous combinations of words; they liken or compare to themselves. So this sentence, the angel, his sword, flight, and lightning are melded with fat, flesh, rinds and turf and is concluded with a reference to its own power of comparison.
"Fools top" can be seen as "fool stop" like the previous transposition, or "fool's top" referencing the foolscap, a jester's hat or, notedly, printing paper. In the next sentence the sing-song quality is doubly referenced in "Singty, sangty" both on meter and context. Indeed almost anytime Joyce uses closely sounding pairs, the sentence uses poetic meter. And indeed, the two sentences beginning with "Fools..." are in perfect trochees. Remember to read Finnegan's Wake aloud! Also, the "oo" sound is repeated and emphasized by appearing on only stressed syllables. Fools, loose, and nous share this assonance and, if you take the previous sentence's demonstration of Joyce's skill to subconsciously change our pronunciations, I would suggest "prowlabouts" would sound almost like a Scottish "prowlaboots". Another interesting wordplay is on the word "nous". Nous is the french pronoun for "we" and makes sense grammatically, but the repeated ending "s" sound of the other rhymed words and the child-song quality of the sentence (it is preceded by "defendy" in order to maintain meter) would suggest that this "s" would be pronounced as well. The french "nous" also affects "sangty"--"sang" being the french for "blood". The religious connotation then adds an extra level of punnery--sangty and sanctity.
The final sentences continue the rending and recombining of language and by extension, religion. Joyce, again, plays with puns and our subconscious idea of what is "correct". "Makes a shine on the curst" is a manipulation of "make a sign of the cross". Indeed the latter phrase has become enough of a cliche to subconsciously inform our pronunciation and understanding of the former. "Curst" operates as the pun on "cross" and is an archaic spelling of "cursed". I think that Joyce here decides not to use the more closely sounding "curse" as a pun for "cross" because of the germane difference between a abstract curse and those cursed, the use of "soard" in the previous sentence (the abbreviated soar'd seems akin to curs'd grammatically and auditorially), and finally--amazingly--the final letter "t" in fact is the cross in miniature, thus giving an ending visual referent to the pun and removing doubt about the final mating together of Christianity and a blasphemous glee in the manipulation of language.
The final "Emen" punctuates the paragraph. As for meaning beyond the pun of "Amen" I leave the reader to decide. However, think of any limerick, and read the first sentence of the quote again, aloud.
Joyce, and Finnegan's Wake in particular, are open to multiple interpretations. This quality can be positive or negative, but the power of this work is that it can withstand the closest scrutiny and provide sublime moments on every page, even every sentence.
Woman in the Dunes by Teshigahara addresses the complicity of a main character in his imprisonment. This imprisonment is either as the workings of fate or of society, but the critical distinction relies on the choices of the main character.
The film opens with a credit sequence that forces the viewer away from any easily recognizable setting. The extreme closeups of symbols and words with a repeated atonal sul ponticello motif playing the background establishes a foreign and de-localized tone. This effect is immediately paid off by the first shot--an extreme closeup of a pebble. By denying an easy point of reference in the beginning, this pebble can take on a sinister or alien appearance. It looks like the head of a dead ant or a malformed beetle. As the camera pulls back into a wider shot, the grains become general, and the quivering movement of the sand calls into mind insect eggs or larva.
These references to insects are especially important as we see the main character. Listed in the credits as Niki Jumpei, his profession as entomologist is frequently alluded to, but, tellingly, his name is never spoken. In the foreign landscape that is presented, almost anyone would be an outsider, but he is especially since he is carrying a large net, camera and collection jars. He is not of this place, and it is critical that he outside of this society and environment so that it is a separate world with which he will integrate. Metaphorically, this separation allows the film to represent the various ties and obligations that we choose or are imposed as we first interact and become part of our social networks.
In the film, the protagonist muses on these bonds, calling into account the "certificates we use to make sure of each other--contracts, licenses, ID cards, deeds registrations, carry permits, letters of consent, income statements...Men and women are slaves to their fear of being cheated. In turn they dream up new certificates to prove their innocence. No one can say where it will end." He thinks while sitting in a boat, beached and full of sand. This image is strikingly beautiful, aesthetically and symbolically, emphasizing his belief in the futility of these social contracts, and is referenced later when he rails against his fate comparing it to the futility of building a house upon the water.
The aesthetics of these opening shots establish the focus on the sensual immediately. The severity of the various landscapes and the extreme closeups of the geometrically perfect insects are examples of the power of black and white cinematography. The high contrast and the focus on texture are suited perfectly for black and white. The constant focus on sand and its movement allow the various shots to become austere, beautiful, menacing, even erotic. However, the physical sensation of sand, its omnipresence in all interactions, is continually reinforced so that we are constantly aware of the body.
And the body is the first tie the main character has to his new situation. He is tricked into helping a widow shovel sand daily in order to preserve her home and subsequently keep other homes in the village from succumbing as well. Placing a home in the middle of collapsing sandpit seem completely illogical, but a moment's thought could provide legions of similarly misguided projects.
After the initial attempts to escape his imprisonment fail, the entomologist binds the woman, stopping the shoveling of sand. The other villagers respond to this threat by withholding food and water. Rations are given only when the household loads sand to be hauled out of the pit by the other villagers. Interestingly, the villagers then only provide alcohol and cigarettes. As both characters suffer from the lack of water, the camera focuses more closely on their bodies. Sweat beads on their skin and sand is stuck to all parts of their body. The previous aesthetic choices emphasizing the physical are now used to highlight the human body itself. The first real acknowledgement of the woman's body occurs when he observes her sleeping naked. The scene is hypnotic and voyeuristic--her body at rest is rendered statuesque by a light dusting of sand.
The lack of water, and with the help of alcohol, finally drive the main character into a frenzy and he attempts to tear the house apart in order to build some method of escape. The woman forcibly stops him and in their tumbling he clutches her breast and then both become acutely aware of each other's body. The sensation of physical privations is now replaces with that of physical desire. These subsequent scenes are intensely erotic. The camera does not pull back; instead it draws closer, and it is lowered to the eye level of one who is lying down, showing hand splayed on back, toes gripped to the ground. Only the woman's face is occasionally shown, with an almost desperate expression, perhaps out of loneliness, or from a physical need for contact. The camera is so close, and the characters have no dialogue, forcing the body to become the primary focus.
Only after suffering from the lack of basic human needs and satisfying a basic human desire does he concede to his situation and play by the rules of his imprisonment. He accepts the terms and becomes part of this society, albeit unwillingly. He has one more escape attempt, but only learns that the bounds of his prison (or society) is larger than the house and sand pit.
After this breaking of his spirit, the movie moves forward in time to the point where he has abandoned his outsider clothes and follows his new role. His hope for escape now becomes mostly passive--that someone will rescue him from his fate. Indeed like a Stanford Prison experimentee, he has so identified with his new role that he accepts the authority of the other villagers. When first trying to escape he shouts that they "have no right to keep" him there. but now he pleads with them to be allowed to merely see the sea under supervision. His hope of escape is reduced to the symbolic viewing of the sea.
The villagers agree to let him out for a time, but only if he performs for them. At night they gather round the pit and request that he and the woman have sex for their viewing entertainment. The shock of this request is accentuated by the atavistic trappings of the event--the watchers are in masks lit by firelight, some dancing, some drumming. The man is desperate enough to surrender his dignity but the woman refuses. They struggle. Teshigahara changes the camera completely in these scenes of the man and woman since it is shot from distance and from above, as if we are watching along with the other villagers. The only closeups are now that of the masked faces. The physical is replaced by distance and performance. The previous emphasis on the body provides the approximation of touch; the visual representation of sex is the realm of the voyeur. Here the voyeurism of villagers (an easy analogy to the voyeurism of the audience of the film) expects the performance of the man. Like any story of a man and woman alone together expects them eventually to have sex. Yet the woman resists this particularly telling. She has previously stated that "if not for the sand no one would bother about me" and that it is her home and the graves of her husband and child that she works to preserve. She has an importance and definition within her social group. The man has no other role other than prisoner and, by proxy, performer, thus his acceptance of the terms of this exploitation is much easier.
By the end of the film, the man has come to an acceptance of his current role and fate. In his previous life as an entomologist he explains his desire to find rare insects because "getting my name in a book is at least something tangible". Contrast this statement with his previous musing on the role of certificates and their proof of "innocence". Ironically, his tangible goal in his previous life is to be published. Up until this point of the film, the main character has become more accepting of his role, but he has not yet found a purpose or reason to stay there. He asks rhetorically, "am I living to dig, or digging to live?", and by extension, asking the same for anyone perceiving their work as drudgery. Two events change his perception. One is that the woman is pregnant and is suffering from possibly an ectopic pregnancy. The other is that he inadvertently discovers a way to extract water that may help the wider community. His real emotional connection to the woman and his possible child give him new responsibilities. The discovery of water give him a wider and, importantly, a dignified role in this village.
The final test comes when the woman, suffering terribly, is taken by the villagers to get treatment. They leave a rope ladder leading into the pit, accidentally or maybe purposefully, that would allow the man to leave. He climbs up and it is not certain if he means to escape or wishes to see the sea. He goes to the beach and, like Doinel and Zampano, seeks answers from the vastness of the ocean.
Instead of escape, he returns to the pit and his water collection. The man has become increasingly tied to his new role. First he had to satisfy the basic need for food and water. Then he found a companion, first for sex, and then more as emotional and familial bonds developed. He was accepted into the group and given work. The final step was to find meaningful work and purpose. He rejected a last escape, and chose to remain. The evocative final scene reinforces this choice. As he looks into his bucket of collection water, he notices in the wavering reflection that a boy has appeared at the edge of the pit and is watching him. This boy could symbolize his unborn child or even the potential of other children in the village and the boy may remind him the real effects of his discovery. Also, the mute appearance of the boy allows the man time for self reflection. Unlike the other villagers who are adversarial or authoritative, the boy offers no critique, but he exists solely as observer and the man then views his situation from outside, indeed from the edge of the pit. This seeming objectivity is the final tie to his new life. The appearance of the boy gives him the impetus to stay.
The man has found sustenance, a home, a family, work, and purpose. These are what almost everyone strives to attain, and the gradual growth and acceptance into society as a whole is a key element of the bildungsroman. Is this a positive film then? The man has been adrift in the empty forms of society and is now grounded like the boat in the sand. Yet, it was not his initial choosing to be in his current situation. Teshigahara makes this point repeatedly by his many attempts to escape. He chooses to remain, but his choice is based on the almost comic image of him kneeling and staring into a bucket. Is he reduced then into a kind of madness or has he given up and compromised? I believe that this is Teshigahara's main point--the man's gradual transformation represents the integration into society that all individuals face. We are bounded by societal ties that that either can be imposed or can be completely unnoticed. Ultimately we still have the ability to choose our lot, but one choice is never explored by the main character. He could have refused the terms of his imprisonment until death. The noble sacrifice of self in order to preserve an ideal. However, the demands of the body and the developing relationship with the woman make this choice untenable, even narcissistic.
The final image of the film is that of a missing person's report and reveals the man's name for the first time. He has been missing seven years. Another document to explain the situation but to provide little context. The shot is superimposed over another shot of the sand, making both ephemeral. The proof of the man's existence is unknown, only a piece of paper remains. No other scene shows his success or failure or even survival in his new role. He may have found happiness and fulfillment. Here, Teshigahara presents the terms of our own acceptance into the world. The terms are not fully negative, but at the least require an immense amount of will to accept. We can either be purposeless and free, but adrift, or we may be happily grounded, but forgotten or marginalized. Either a house built upon the water or a boat beached on the sand.
The cockatrice is a mythical creature that can petrify with its gaze. Thus, it becomes an appropriate metaphor for the critic and the ossifying power of judgment. However, as in all mythology, there is the exception--like the weasel, the most robust art is able to withstand or even defy the eye of the cockatrice.
