That Obscure Object of Desire

AKA "How many tangents can I go off on in one blog post..."

1. Why do you think the film is titled That Obscure Object of Desire? What is this “obscure object”? How does the film present it as such? Use specific imagery or scenes from the film in your answer.

As far as I figure, that "obscure object" is an orgasm. There's even a nice bit of alliteration in the translated title that lends itself to mean something that also begins with "O." The entire movie is about sex -- or about the chase to get it. Matthieu lusts after Conchita (whose name, by the way, means "conception" as in a conception of the immaculate image of the Virgin Mary -- interesting, no?) only to be thwarted time and time again. He chases her from place to place; she's there continually egging him on. He's looking for the fulfillment of his desire (which she denied him at the start) and she's looking to continually thrill him and make it so his love for her will never end. (Like in Celestina, the passion ends once the woman gives into the man -- Calisto loves Melibea as an image and will as long as he's yet to have her; but as soon as they sleep together, that magic's gone. Conchita tries to test Matthieu's love and make it last forever by denying him her body and his release.) She leads him on with the more 'Magdalene' side shining through and then denies him her honey by means of an absurdly complex chastity belt and switching to the Virgin persona. The chastity belt is gold like a treasure and, therefore, somewhat paradoxically, instead of hiding her sex, it accentuates and emphasizes. Anyways, when Matthieu and Conchita get into bed, he's denied not only her body but his own pleasure. As in Celestina, the thrill is in the hunt and not the object pursued (Conchita in this case); however, desire is desire and he still wants to be sated. Terrorism is in the background of the film and so we see a lot of explosions throughout. The explosions, of course, are symbols of lust, desire, and orgasm. At the end, we see that explosion when the two walk off together, which is meant to imply, at long last, consummation. And so, finally, that obscure object has been found.

4. What do you make of the animal imagery in the text (the mouse, the fly)?

The animal imagery is really very simple. The mouse and the fly are the main ones and both of those are prey. Both of those portray Matthieu. The mouse (which, just a note, is *the most realistic mouse I've ever seen ever*) was caught in a simple trap, trying to get the cheese it wanted. Like that mouse, Matthieu continually falls into traps set by Conchita. He's so focused on getting her that he's blind to the tricks she's playing, the traps he keeps stumbling into, and his own naivete. The fly, like the mouse, is dead -- it had escaped for awhile, flying around for days and outwitting the waiter until it finally ended up drowning in Matthieu's drink. Matthieu didn't think he was being naive; he thought he'd figured out Conchita's game and outsmarted her but no. She was always one step ahead -- her love like the intoxicating glass of wine that the poor fly drunkenly trapped himself in. With these two images, we see again the recurrent theme of love being the hunter -- the lover simply a pawn, a victim, ready to die for a quest that may or may not bring fulfillment, to come so close but never actually reach his goal.

Celestina Day 2

"You expect a man in love to champ at the bit. Any delay is
torture and every moment waiting a pain. They want to put
their thoughts into action and enjoy immediate results."
Analyze this quote. What is it saying about the way men deal
with romance? Do you think this quote speaks true?


To me it seems that this quote is showing how there isn't really any 'romance' in how men deal with it/view it. It seems as though the idea of love is skewed to go hand-in-hand with that of sex. We determined off the bat that Calisto fell 'in love' with Melibea in a purely physical way -- he had never even spoken to her before he was enamored with her; he fell for her looks. 'Loving' someone largely on their physical appearance doesn't really invoke the notion of romance -- more so, it conjures up the idea of lust. Calisto acts as though he has been struck down by an intense illness, a brutal 'love sickness' but it's fairly obviously that his heart is not the organ driving him to such despair. The whole 'thoughts into action' idea can be interpreted as 'fantasies into reality' (or more specifically 'fantasies about Melibea into actually getting the girl.' And so this quote is basically saying that men just want their love to be returned and fulfilled -- the fulfillment of which is through sex. Therefore, men kind of just want to get lucky: love = sex. Something along those lines. Is this an accurate perception? No, not quite. That is the stereotype of guys -- and it is in some cases warranted -- though it's not a universal thing. It tends to be more of a priority to men than to women, yes, but is that the only motivation for men in love ever? Unlikely.


PS - Also, I mentioned this during a discussion of one of the stories in the Decameron -- the one about the woman unknowingly eating her lover's heart. I don't know if you ever got a chance to check it out and it's not exactly relevant now but... Queens of the Stone Age: "Sick Sick Sick"

Celestina Act 1 and 2

Rambling brought about by question #1...

One of the interesting aspects of this opening scene is that Calisto reaches Melibea’s garden by chasing his falcon. In other stories we’ve seen the falcon used to symbolize the hunt – falcons being a bird of prey. Therefore, the fact that Calisto is chasing the falcon means the falcon has found its prey (Melibea) and he is coming to claim it. Is that the case however? When Calisto tries to make an advance, the lady thwarts him; therefore, she’s obviously not some downed prey. Ironically then, is it not Calisto who’s the prey? He believes he is the hunter but after being denied, we see him as hopelessly the victim of love or ‘Cupid’s poisonous dart.’ We’ve seen love characterized as a violent entity before and now this scene further cements that image. This scene shows a flip-flop of roles: the hunter becomes the hunted. Does man have any true power when woman and love is concerned? The fact that the scene takes place in Melibea’s garden is interesting in two ways. One, it is her garden. Calisto had tried to hunt her on her own turf and she won with the ‘home-field advantage.’ Additionally, a garden is a place of growth, where flowers and plants flourish – will Calisto be able to take root or will it remain barren of love fulfilled?

4. Analyze Parmeno’s long speeches concerning Celestina. What is her history, profession, etc.? What do you think she represents within the text? How does the entire community view this woman? Why? Use specific examples from the text to support your answer.

Thinking about the character of Celestina reminds me of the film ‘Se7en’: the serial killer John Doe tries to explain why he had to do he did. He explains to Mills, “But that's the point. We see a deadly sin on every street corner, in every home, and we tolerate it. We tolerate it because it's common, it's trivial.” Celestina ‘was a mistress of six trades’ – the first being a legitimate sounding one to cover for the rest. She was a lady of debauch who used being a seamstress to make the stream of wenches coming into her establishment for face painting, alluring perfume, ‘re-flowering,’ or hooking seem more venial. She is basically meant to embody corruption and sin. However, despite the fact that she’s known by all as a ‘dirty old whore,’ she’s tolerated – she hasn’t been run out of town despite her reputation. People turn the other cheek even when noblewomen sneak in to her place to seek her services. Her character is an ode to the corruption of society; the society in which we live is one where sin is accepted and tolerated because it serves a purpose – because it’s there and always has been. 

The Decameron (Day Two / 2.5, 2.6, 2.7, 2.9, 3.1)

1. Story 2.5: Analyze the educative process that occurs with Andreuccio (do NOT simply recount the events of the story). Do you see any repetition occurring here? How do you read this repetition? How does this contribute to his education? What does he learn here? What might the message be for a wider audience? Use specific examples from the text to support your analysis.

Andreuccio, who had never before left his hometown, goes to Naples upon hearing that they have good cheap horses for sale there. He intends to make a steal and brings with him a large sum of money. Being naïve, he shows the entire market place his purse of 500 gold florins and, given that Naples is not a nice, pure city, sets himself up for his education in the ways of the world. The way Andreuccio learns is through a series of falls (literal falls with symbolic overtones): first, into a pile of excrement; then, into a well; finally, into a tomb. The first comes when he falls for the woman’s, who he believes is his sister, trick – he falls through a bad board in the foundation into the feces below him. Symbolically speaking, he falls from a poor foundation (his naïveté could not support him in the real world) into disgrace. Next, the men who find him wash him in the well – this is his renewal, his second chance. The last fall is into a tomb – he ‘helps’ the men rob the grave of a dead man. This time, he realizes right away that they’ve set out to fool him and when he finally gets back out of the tomb, he is reborn, wiser than he ever was, and possesses a ring worth the 500 florins his previous ignorance had cost him.

2. Story 2.6: What does this story have to say about humanity (especially considering that the central character becomes a kind of ‘wild-woman’)? How might this view of humanity influence the story of a whole? Use specific examples from the text to support your analysis.

Madam Beritola becomes a kind of ‘wild-woman’ after her grief over losing her sons consumes her. She ends up going back to nature and gaining the companionship of a deer and her baby roebucks. Becoming friendly with the forest creatures is not the event that really sealed her supposed loss of ‘humanity;’ the scene that does is the one in which she nurses the two hungry roebucks as her own children. What we see here is that ‘humanity’ is based on civilization. We see that same idea in Yvain – when Yvain tears his clothes and goes off into the woods, he is no longer considered a man but a beast; only when he is once again clothed and in the society of his fellow man is he considered back to humanity. Madam Beritola never ceases to be ‘humane’ but that is not the view of humanity here; by going back to nature, she gives up society and thus loses her ‘humanity.’ Like Yvain, once she is clothed and back in the society of people, she is considered human again.

The Decameron (Day One / 1.1, 1.2, 1.3, 1.4, 2.3)

Playing catch up, for the win~

Day 1.1 tells the story of the wicked Ser Cepparello who tricks a friar into absolving him of his sins by a false confession. Truly, the entire story is quotable just because of all the irony in the exchanges; however, to keep from getting carpal tunnel, I’ll stick to one said by the friar in response to Ciappelletto’s admittance of having once accidentally spitting in the house of God. The so-called holy man laughs at him and says, “My son, that is nothing to worry about; we priests, who are religious men, spit there all day long” (35). This shows us a bit of Boccaccio’s view on religious folk which becomes more and more pronounced as the Decameron continues: religious men are just like other men and not to be put on a pedestal. If they were truly saint-like, that holy friar wouldn’t have been so amazed and willing to grant Ciappelletto sainthood; instead, he would’ve just appreciated him as a man like himself. This story also shows us that holy men are easily fooled by wicked men (or perhaps they can just be considered fools.) Here we get the first instance (of many) in which Boccaccio shows his disdain for – not the religion itself but for – the religion’s clergy.

Day 1.2 speaks of the Jew Abraham who converts to Catholicism in spite of (or more likely, because of) the corruption of the ‘holy’ men in Rome. He says to his friend upon returning from Rome, “…I have observed that in spite of this [their corruption], they do not succeed but, on the contrary, that your religion continuously grows and becomes brighter and more illustrious” (42). At first glance, his speech at the end seems a bit ironic – why after seeing that terrible scene could he believe that there was anything good about Christianity? What sort of salvation could possibly come from such corruption? But that is exactly the point. By the first story, Boccaccio already shows disdain for the so-called holy men; however, he did not show it towards the religion itself. And that is because he feels there is nothing wrong with the religion – it is fundamentally good and therefore continues to flourish despite the fact that its followers are not necessarily fundamentally good. If something can continue to become brighter despite the dark seeds of corruption which are prevalent, then obviously it serves an important purpose.

Day 1.4 was the most amusing of this first set of stories: an monk gets out of trouble for indulging in the sins of the flesh by catching the Abbot who’d accused him in the same act. At the end, the monk shows how he’s outsmarted the Abbot by remarking: “And up until a moment ago, you never showed me how monks were supposed to support the weight of women as well as fasts and vigils.…I promise that if you forgive me this time, I shall sin no more in this respect….I shall always behave as I have seen you behave” (49). Once again, Boccaccio is showing that holy men are more deeply connected to the ‘man’ aspect than the ‘holy’ one. Putting on monk’s garb doesn’t automatically bring about the end of desire; monks and abbots are still men like other men and are just as susceptible to lust and the pleasure of the flesh.

Talk to Her

Almodovar’s film has a lot of interesting themes/symbolism in it. While the most notable is the Sleeping Beauty overtone, the first I noticed was with Lydia, the bullfighter who’s deathly afraid of snakes. A few Film Study courses and a year of Psychology were more than enough to cement the Freudian correlation into the forefront of my mind. Snakes are one of many phallic symbols in literature and film. Phallic, of course, refers to men and therefore Lydia’s deathly fear of snakes is meant to reflect her fear of men and the violence they can perpetrate. On the talk show we sense that something especially negative happened between her and the other bullfighter which is why she reacts so violently when the topic is brought up; when she, Marco and others talk about the priests and missionaries who have raped the villagers and the nuns, she is sickened. An interesting thing to note though is that snakes are not the only time she comes face to face with her fear of what is masculine. One could easily argue that a bull is very much associated with men. In that case, when she goes into the ring, she is confronting her fear head-on. She is haughty when she bullfights. People often commented that it was lucky the bull never tore her apart; in fact, the man sitting beside her ex comments during one fight: ‘if you weren’t here, she wouldn’t be taking as many risks.’ Therefore, it is obvious that the bullfighting is meant to make a statement towards men.

Run Lola Run

In “Run Lola Run,” there is an interesting flip-flop of gender roles. In fact, we see this same reversal in Erec and Enide. Stereotypically the man is the hero, the one who saves the damsel in distress; however, what is the first scene of the movie? Manni’s in a phone booth freaking out and in hysterics blaming Lola for not showing up and then begging her to save him from his own mess. In the first two sequences it Lola not Manni who finds the way out. While the success in the third sequence is the result of both of their efforts, the protagonist/hero is still obviously Lola. Therefore, Manni proves to be the Princess Peach trapped in Bowser Castle. In Erec and Enide, the reversal is a bit more subtle: Erec is portrayed as this big hero, is the guy who wins every battle and, yet, was it not for Enide, his battles wouldn’t have ever evolved to involve true honor. Another interesting thing about the film is the use of sound – specifically the scream. Another stereotype is that of the trophy wife/girlfriend, the one who’s supposed to ‘Shut up and look pretty.’ In Cretien’s Erec and Enide and Yvain, we see that stereotype subtly refuted by the verbose Enide (who becomes a much deeper character as soon as she’s allowed to speak) and the crafty Lunette (who uses language to get her way). In “Run Lola Run,” her scream is a way to assert herself – a ‘no, I will not shut up and look pretty. You shut up and listen,’ if you will.

Yvain (pp. 353-380)

When Yvain fights the two demons, I don’t understand how that battle is considered a victory in his favor. It was very unsettling actually… The victory didn’t seem all that legitimate. Yes, the fight was unfair to begin with (two devils against one man) but it was designed to be that way – two against one. (In Erec and Enide, Erec fights a whole slew of battles by himself and doesn’t need to call in help; he submits to the rules of battle no matter how ridiculous the set-up is.) I’m not saying that Yvain called in the Lion to help him, per se, but it still helped him. At the start of the battle, the demons inform Yvain that he must put the Lion away where it cannot help him or harm them, that he must take them on alone, that “if the lion were to… attack us, then you wouldn’t be alone: it would be two against two” (364) and would be against the rules of battle. Therefore, Yvain would have to concede defeat if the Lion assisted him. He puts the Lion away and commences fighting but is not strong enough to defeat them. (In fact, he’ll be bettered quickly if the fight continues.) It was luck that the Lion dug its way out of its holding cell and saved Yvain. The Lion kills a demon and gives Yvain a chance to kill the other. This is an impressive turnaround, yes, but it violates the rules of battle, does it not? Therefore, though his enemies were defeated, should this truly be considered his victory?

Yvain (pp. 324-353)

When Yvain leaves on his journey the text says that he “left his lady so reluctantly that his heart stayed behind” (328) and miraculously remained an alive body without a heart. This feat was only possible while his lady, who had been keeping his heart safe, loved him and kept his heart well. When the messenger says that Laudine no longer loves Yvain his reaction is one of shock; however, that shock could also be interpreted as death (he has no way to retrieve his heart and, therefore, can no longer move or speak; the messenger removes the ring from his finger as a grave-robber would the ring of a corpse). After the messenger leaves, Yvain sneaks off to let his maddening grief consume him. In that scene, we see that the previous ‘death’ was no so much a full death but a death of his reason and humanity. With his heart destroyed, he does not give up breath but instead gives into the animal in him. He had wanted to distance himself as far away as possible from the thing that hurt and ‘killed’ him, the thing that he hates most, himself. Insanity brings him that peace. However, we see that insanity doesn’t destroy all the good in him. When the hermit leaves out bread and water, Yvain doesn’t just take it and leave or continue taking it for nothing in return – instead he brings the man game to show his gratitude. Yvain can’t have been all that bad a guy if even in madness he retains some of his virtue. In fact, this is proof that he’s not as evil as the messenger had said and not as deserving of hatred as he believes he is.

Yvain (pp. 295-324)

And here goes a random tangent…

In the context of the narrative, Calogrenant’s story is one of disgrace – he must tell the court his shame, how he failed a challenge pitifully. Of course, this is Chrétien so the story is not simply one of a knight admitting defeat. On one hand, he is setting up a challenge. He’s saying ‘I wasn’t worthy to fight this knight; are you?’ Yvain takes the bait and so does his sharp-tongued, slander-spewing rival Kay. So does the entire court in fact. When one man fails, another swoops down to avenge him; that ‘avenging,’ however, is more an opportunity to up his own renown than anything else). It’s a chance for Yvain to contest against Kay, to beat him honorably. On the other hand, look back at the informal prologue. Chrétien laments that love has lost its power, that it’s been reduced to nothingness. And what does Yvain ultimately do in this first third of the story? He breaks Laudine’s heart by killing her husband, falls in love with her himself, and then manages to stop her grieving by loving and marrying her. Not only is strength or valor triumphing in the tale but love – love wasn’t dead then and it doesn’t have to be now. Therefore, Calogrenant’s story also sets the stage for that: it sets the stage for the fight to preserve the strength of love. 

Erec and Enide (pp. 90-122)

When Erec leaves with Enide, it seems as though his journey is one of redemption and renewal. His renown had fallen and he was made fun of for neglecting his chivalry to be with his wife. When Enide tells him of this, he gets angry and we get the impression that he’s headed off to regain his old title and renown – gained before through tournaments and mindless acts of violence, mind you. In the concluding section of the text, we see that he’s not regaining his chivalry as we’d come to know it before but instead a different kind of chivalry. This new kind is gained not through mindlessly macho fighting but through actual tasks of heroism. Let’s compare the ‘chivalry’ earlier in the tale to the kind now: before he had challenged all in order to show off and for the sake of challenge; this time he rescues a knight from dishonorable giants to spare a maiden’s broken heart, saves Enide from a morally vile Count, and restores joy to a kingdom by freeing a strong knight from a curse. Chrétien is making a commentary on that testosterone-driven society. From the get-go, he seemed to be saying that it was just ridiculous – ‘what’s the point in just fighting for the sake of fighting and bloodshed?’ The way chivalry had been described as a sort of virtue was no virtue at all – machismo does not in itself constitute a virtue. The true spirit of chivalry is in fighting for things that matter, for honor from good deeds and heroism.

Erec and Enide (pp. 60-90)

If the first part of the romance belongs to Erec, the second part most certainly belongs to Enide. How do we see her character emerging here? In what context do we finally get her name?

I find it funny that we don’t find out Enide’s name until basically hers and Erec’s wedding day. That means that until that time (and there was a stretch of time between their meeting and their wedding day), Enide wasn’t seen as having an identity. Her own father hadn’t thought it was worth noting that his daughter had a name (probably because she was a daughter and not a son). That goes along with the sentiment of the time: women were meant to ‘shut up and look pretty;’ they were considered trophies or objects that required no name just some degree of value. As for Enide’s character, we don’t really see it emerging directly. Instead, we see her character develop through the effect she has on Erec. Erec is absolutely smitten with her. And she is pleased because he’s quite the catch. However, he abandons his responsibility as a knight, his love of tournaments, and his machismo and chivalry just to be with her. Enide shows her prideful nature. Because of the above, Erec’s renown plummets and we see how distressed that drop makes her. Enide had been Erec’s trophy but the relationship seems two-sided. It seems Enide also views her lover as a trophy – and as he’s described as the epitome of manliness, it makes sense. When that trophy of hers begins to depreciate in value, her pride/vanity flare and she’s filled with absolute misery. 

Erec and Enide (pp. 37-60)

 (Difficult yet thought-provoking question: Why does the text describe Enide in this way: “She was truly one who was made to be looked at, for one might gaze at her just as one gazes in a mirror.”? What is it to gaze into a mirror? What does one see? Are there any figures from mythology transfixed by a mirror image?) 

In literature and films, gazing in a mirror generally has two symbolic applications – either to show deep introspection and self-reflection or that things aren’t as they seem. And, of course, some mirrors are just mirrors. Instead of seeing deep into one’s self and character, one sees his or her own face. Those sorts of mirrors appeal not to one’s thoughtful nature but to one’s vanity. In likening Enide to a mirror, it seems mostly that people see themselves reflected in her – they see elements of their own selves in her. She’s described as basically a perfect being – the most beautiful and wise that ever was, noble beyond measure. Who wouldn’t want to see his or herself reflected in that? As for mythology, two glaring examples come to mind when I think of mirrors. When Perseus went to take on Medusa, he deftly dodged her gaze and holding up his shield reflected it back to her. The sight of her mirror image turned the Gorgon to stone. In the myth of Narcissus, one day when he was sitting by a pool, a nymph (and one of his spurned lovers) took advantage of his vanity. Narcissus saw his reflection in the water and, unable to look away or leave, eventually died. Mirror images in myths have a nasty habit of screwing over whoever glimpses them. It makes one wonder if there could be some correlation, perhaps something negative in Enide’s mirror-like quality.

PS - Peasant's Quest
PPS - So you don't miss a moment of the baby-throwing-being-on-fire-fighting-a-dragon action...