The plot of the movie is probably as follows: the inferior soldier Marogovai in wartime looks ugly and lives under the repression of mechanical stereotypes and superiors. Marogovai's exuberant sexual desire is also suppressed and has nowhere to release, so he is immersed in voyeurism. In the masturbation, the obscene behavior of burning the skin with candles and the sexual fantasies of various women, he ended up raping the carcass of a sow in a trance and was shot to death by the superior. Malogovai had an affair with his senior wife and gave birth to a son with long pigtails, Kalema Baratoni. Kalema was sent to practice gluttony since he was a child, so he became obese, and then represented Hungary in the Socialist Gluttony Contest and became a world leader. The champion, during the period, met his wife, who was also a glutton, and gave birth to a son, Laius Baratoni. Lajus is an extremely emaciated taxidermist whose life is about taxidermy and caring for an old Kalema that is too fat to move. In the end, Laius made a human taxidermy of his father who died unexpectedly, and designed an automatic device to cut his own body and make a human statue.
From Malogovai's desire to be suppressed to death, to Kalema's gluttony and fat and ugly, to the extreme disgust and rejection of the popular body by the thin Lajus, George Balefey through the three generations of grandparents and grandchildren's body shape mutation The narration presents this "squeeze"-"release"-"lost" legend, as if the process of blowing a hard balloon: the remaining corpses of Layous and Kalema become human statues, like balloons bursting Fragments of the aftermath still exist in the world for onlookers to speculate on its history and meaning, but the conclusion seems to be nothing but nothingness—released from extreme physical oppression, people will be lost in extreme puffiness and thinness.
The endless void caused by this extreme situation also affects people spiritually: Malogovai is under repression, and his spiritual needs and self-awareness are extremely clear and strong, while Kalema is living in comfort, food and clothing. With the spirit kidnapped by ideology, the ego is only attached to the vanity of fame and fortune, and there is not much left of the core of his existence. Until Laius, he does not live in the surface material and spiritual freedom, but in the father and the father. Under the shadow of history, Father Taotie's bloated body and self-denial due to his irritable aversion to this physical form made him lose his spiritual core even more, and fell into nothingness and the unknown, without anything to depend on. The integrity of the self or spirit shrinks over three generations to the final realm of nothingness and death.
After nothingness, how will we view this helpless process? In the film, the bodies of Lajus and Callema are eventually found in the basement by Professor Reguzzi, who sees this as an artistic discovery, unveiling the pair as works of art and stating a seemingly A settled conclusion: everyone has their own opinion on what is more important, for some it is space, for others it is time.
This kind of grandiose artist concept and evaluation is ridiculous here. It represents a kind of indifference and numb laziness. In the experience of the three generations of Malogovai’s ancestors, what we need is an attitude of empathy. The non-slack outsider's point of view, because of this exaggerated and extreme variation, is happening faster or slower in every modern person. In terms of artistic technique and allegory, he so vividly describes a problem that we forget in history, ignore the past but actually exist.
Finally, a little expansion: Laius' self-cutting device is very similar to the description of Komatsu Sakyo's novel "The Mouth of the Wild", which focuses on this extreme setting method to discuss appetite as a human existence Where is the end of the property. In addition, the gluttony competition that Calema participated in reminded me of the description of Aureliano Segundo holding a gluttonous competition at home in Marquez's "One Hundred Years of Solitude", which is very similar. It is not known if George Balefey was inspired by either. The two texts are attached below, if you are interested, you can read them.
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Komatsu Sakyo "Mouth of the Wild":
There is absolutely no reason.
Why do you need a reason? People always want to find a reason for everything, but the truth can never be explained. Why is all existence the existing state? Why does it exist in this way and not the other way?
That kind of reason, no one can answer yet.
He gritted his teeth as he looked out the window, anger burning in his chest. Sometimes this rage suddenly overwhelms him, and in the center of his body pervades a violent irrational urge, a destructive urge that cannot be explained to anyone. He slammed the curtains shut, inhaled hard, tightened his shoulders, and returned to the back room.
The world we live in is worthless and ridiculous. To live is an absurd and unhelpful thing. First of all, this worthless thing - myself - is unbearably ridiculous.
Why is this ridiculous?
"Why?" - the same question.
Worthless and ridiculous, just because it's what it is. Everything—property, science, love, sex, life, sophisticated people—nature, earth, universe—all the disgusting filth, the depressing stupidity. So -
no. Not so at all, but anyway, I really want to do that.
I am going to do it. He shouted silently: I do.
Of course it would be just as stupid as anything else - in fact, perhaps the most stupid of all kinds of stupid things? But at least there's a tinge of excitement to this thing -- a razor-sharp feel. Perhaps the heart of this well-thought-out plan is a wild attempt? Maybe so, but at least -
I'm about to start doing something no one has ever tried in their right mind.
Destroy the world? Thousands of people throughout history have had such fantasies. And his idea is not so old-fashioned. There couldn't have been a more absurd idea, and only it could quench his anger. The flame within me was fanned by a noble despair...
Entering the inner chamber, he locked the door and turned on the light. Now—the thought made his eyes shine—now it begins.
Cool light illuminates the room. A home electric oven sits in one corner; a gas range, a slicer, large and small pans, a set of knives, a closet full of seasonings and vegetables. Next to it is an automatic workbench, set up with a full set of procedures to perform any surgical operation ever performed on the body by human beings - no matter how difficult or complex, even the largest hospital can do it here. can be completed. Next to the operating table, are some prosthetic limbs: hands, feet; any kind of state-of-the-art artificial organ.
Everything is there. It took him a full month to plan the details and another month to prepare the tools. According to his calculations, it took at least another month to make all the preparations.
OK, so - let's get started.
He took off his pants, climbed onto the operating table, attached the many electrodes of the controller to his body, and twisted the camera away.
Started -
in a dramatic gesture, he picked up the syringe on the table stand, checked the pressure scale, adjusted the settings - turned it up a bit because it was the first injection - and injected the prohibited anesthetic into the his right thigh.
After about five minutes, the leg was completely unconscious, and he turned on the automatic surgery machine. The squeaking sound of the machine when it was running; the automatic indicator light was off and on; his body was involuntarily yanked backwards, and the black manipulator extended out multiple branches.
Clips protruding from the table hold the shin and ankle of the leg. A steel claw gripped a sterile gauze bag and slid down the junction of the thigh and pelvis.
The electronic scalpel cut through the skin as thin as silk, and the place where it passed was very hot, and there was almost no blood flowing out. Cutting through muscle tissue... exposing the aorta... clipping the meat down with forceps... bandaging... excising and manipulating the infected muscle surface... the buzzing rotary saw blade swivels to cut to the femur. The saw blade cut through the bone, and for a split second he closed his eyes.
There is almost no vibration. When the ultra-high-speed saw blade with a built-in diamond head cuts through the bone, there is only a slight rubbing sound, while the strong enzyme mix is applied to the bone cut surface. Within exactly six minutes, his right leg was cleanly separated from his torso.
The machine wiped his sweat-soaked face with gauze and handed him a cup of potion. He drank the potion in one gulp and took a deep breath. His pulse was rising fast, and more sweat poured out like a rain. But there was little blood loss and nothing resembling pain. Neurotherapy works well. No blood transfusion is required. He took some oxygen to relieve his dizziness.
His right leg, separated from his body, lay straight on the bed. Through the clear plastic bandage, you can see: a circle of shrunken pink muscle tissue surrounded by yellow fat, and a black-red bone marrow in the center of the white bone. There was little bloodshed. He looked at the fluffy thing with his kneecap protruding, and could hardly help laughing hysterically. But there is no time to laugh now: there is more to do.
He rested for a while to regain his strength, and then gave instructions on what to do next.
The machine stretched out a robotic arm, grabbed an artificial leg, and placed it on the cut surface; the unbandaged muscle had recovered after being medicated. The information terminal at the center of the artificial synapse is connected to the nerve leaf sheath pulled out from the cut. Finally, the prosthetic torso was firmly attached to the remaining thighbone with straps and special medical devices. finished. He tried to bend the new leg carefully.
So far so good. He stood up very carefully: the change made him dizzy and wobbly, but he could stand and walk slowly anyway. The prosthetic leg is made of a certain kind of light metal that makes very little noise when it moves. No problem - good enough - he'll be in a wheelchair most of the time anyway.
He lifted his right leg and lowered it from the head of the table. The legs were so heavy that he almost stumbled. Once again he burst into a savage laughter in his heart. I've been dragging these weights to and fro my entire life. How many kilograms did he lose by amputating this limb?
"Okay," he mumbled, still giggling, "enough. Now it's time to drain the blood."
He carried the chunk of meat onto the console, peeled off the plastic wrap, and hung upside down by his ankles On the ceiling, squeezing with his hands, bleeding from the incision.
Later, when it was rinsed in the sink, its fur was wet with water, and of all animal limbs, it looked the most like a giant frog's leg. He stared at the sole of the foot that poked out of the stainless-steel sink in an odd gesture.
my leg. Bulging knees, high insteps where it's hard to find well-fitting shoes, toes growing on an athlete's foot - this is my leg! He finally couldn't hold it any longer, and broke out into a vicious, wild laughter, bending his waist convulsively in the laughter. Finally, the damn tough athlete's foot is finally done...
it's time to get ready to cook.
He sliced the leg in half from the knee with a large slicing knife, then began peeling it with a sharp pork knife. The thigh bone is wrapped in delicious-looking meat, and it is very thick. Of course, it's ham. The tendons were resilient; he was sweating profusely with a hard slicing knife, and soon thick chunks of meat with muscular membranes were built up beside him. He put the chunks of meat at the shin into a large pot filled with boiling water, and simmered it with cinnamon, cloves, celery, onion, fennel, saffron, peppercorns, other seasonings, and spicy vegetables. He lost the foot, only scraping some flesh from the ankle. He sliced, salted and peppered whatever was in the leg meat for the steak, and patted the slices to soften them.
Will I have the courage to eat it? he asked himself suddenly. A firm mass of meat always stuck somewhere in his throat. Can he really swallow it?
He gritted his teeth, sweat dripping like oil. I will eat it. It's no different than other intelligent mammals that humans have been cooking and feasting on: cows and sheep, those gentle, innocent herbivores with sad eyes. Primitives even ate their own kind; some races have continued cannibalism until modern times. Killing animals for food—perhaps for a valid reason. Other carnivores also had to kill to survive. But human beings...
Since the day they existed, and throughout human history, how many millions of people have been killed without even eating? Compared with that, this is absolutely innocent. I will not kill anyone else. I will not slaughter poor animals. In this way, I eat my own meat. What other meat is as sinless as this?
The oil in the frying pan started to crackle. He grabbed a large steak with trembling hands, hesitated for a moment, and tossed it into the pot. The crackling fat filled the air with a fragrant smell. Still shaking, he was gripping the wheelchair handle so tightly that he almost folded it short.
Ok. I am a pig. Or, humans are much worse than pigs: mean, filthy. There is a part in me that is inferior to a pig, and there is a "noble" part that feels endless anger for being inferior to a pig. The noble part will eat the part that is inferior to the pig. Is there anything scary about this?
Roasted golden and crunchy steaks sizzled on the plate. He slathered it with mustard, served it with lemon and cream, and drizzled it with gravy. His hands trembled as he picked up the knife, which rattled on the plate with a tinkling sound. Sweaty, he gripped the knife with all his strength, cut it, poked it with a fork, and put it in his mouth with a fearful eye.
On the third day, he amputated his left leg. This one, the shin and the entire surface, was heavily creamed, forked with a rotisserie, and roasted on a rotisserie. Now he is no longer afraid. He found himself surprisingly palatable: the discovery made a mixture of anger and madness take root in his heart.
After the first week, things got harder. He had to cut off his lower body.
On the convenient toilet of the wheelchair, he had the last pleasure of excretion. When he squirted, he laughed.
Look at this dirty stuff! I excreted myself, stored in my own guts and turned into feces! Maybe it's the highest form of self-contempt -- or the highest form of self-praise?
When he lost the part below the hip bone, the two prosthetic legs were basically useless. But he also left them in their old places. It was time to replace the internal organs, and he asked the machine's computer: "When I eat my intestines, will I still have appetite?"
"It won't be affected." That was the answer.
He ditched the large intestine, stewed the small intestine with vegetables, and turned the duodenum into a sausage. He replaced the liver and kidneys with artificial organs, and then sautéed the two organs. He put his stomach aside first and kept it in a plastic container filled with nutrient solution.
At the end of the third week, he replaced his heart and lungs, and at the end he shredded his beating heart and fry it: something even the priests who presided over the sacrifice of Aztak could not have imagined . (Note: Aztecs: Indian tribes living in central Mexico during the Spanish invasion in the 16th century)
When he began to make his own belly into meals, he began to realize that human beings can eat mechanically without appetite. The belly is soaked in soy sauce, with garlic and red chilli added.
How many of the innumerable and bizarre food products have nothing to do with hunger at all and were developed purely out of curiosity? Even when curiosity is satisfied, a human will eat the most incredible things if he is hungry. The feeling of anger when eating meat of one's own kind is like breaking a glass with your teeth.
The source of appetite comes from the primal aggressive impulse: to kill and eat; to trample and crush; to swallow and absorb
—that is the mouth of the wild.
Until now, his throat could only be connected to a tube. The nutrients delivered directly to the bloodstream come from a container filled with nutrient solution. Endocrine activities are performed by artificial organs. At the end of this mouth, both arms are eaten; the only thing that remains is the part above the neck, and on the fifty-day head, almost all the muscles of the face are eaten; the remaining two lips are installed Chew under the spring support. There was only one eyeball left, and the other was swallowed into the mouth and chewed off.
Sitting in a wheelchair now is a skeleton piled up with intricately large and small pipes. On this skeleton, the only thing left is the brain and a mouth.
No...
even now, a robotic arm is scalping and cutting the top of the skull cleanly with a saw blade.
Sprinkle salt, pepper, and lemon juice on the exposed cerebellum, and scoop up a full tablespoon—my brain, thought it was my cerebellum. How can I taste this stuff? Can a living person taste the taste of his own brain?
The spoon destroys the gray brain. No pain - no feeling in the cerebral cortex. But by this time, the robot hand scooped out a spoonful of gray paste and put it into the skeleton's mouth, and when the mouth swallowed it greedily, the "taste" could no longer be discerned.
"It's a murder," said the police officer as he came out of the house, facing reporters cramming the exit. "Besides, it was a crime of unimaginable cruelty and brutality. The culprit was undoubtedly a serious mental patient. Look. It's like some kind of perverted experiment - the body is taken off piece by piece, and then artificial organs are put on..."
The officer took care of the media and entered the room, wiping the tired sweat from his face.
The detective from the incinerator looked at him questioningly. "The videotape has been burned," he said, "but why would you say it was a murder?"
"To keep the society beautiful and peaceful." The officer took a deep breath. "Declaring it a murder - directing an official investigation - then making it my secret. This case - erasing the evidence from the case - they are completely out of line. You can't let a normal citizen See the madness and self-destruction in the depths of some people's hearts. If we do something like this, if we accidentally show people the primitive beast that lives inside - well, you can be sure that someone will learn Like this person. This type of person - you have no way of knowing what they can do...
"If the general public suddenly learns about this kind of thing, people will lose confidence in their actions - they will start drilling into their own souls deep in the darkness. They will be completely unable to understand themselves - completely out of control!
"You see, the root of human existence is madness - that blind aggressive impulse in the heart of all animals. If people realize this - if there are large groups of people who express it with slogans like existential liberation or self-control. This
madness - that's the end of human civilization. No matter what laws, force, or regulations we use to restrain it, it's all going to get out of hand! Already it's starting to show - this guy commits suicide by swallowing melted dynamite - that guy sets himself on fire by pouring gasoline on it - another in broad daylight having sex in the middle of a city. When there is no more sensible action to attack, the caged beast begins to destroy its own mind-"
"Ahhh-" The
young detective jumped away from the rotting skeleton. When the stinky spoon stuffed in the skeleton's mouth was taken out, the skeleton's teeth buckled, biting his index finger, and biting off a small piece of meat at the tip of the finger.
"Be careful," the police officer said wearily, " The foundation of all animal life is that mouth with a thirsty appetite for devouring, the huge wild mouth..."
On the skeleton with its brain exposed, the remaining eyeball began to loosen, and a powerful spring replaced the missing muscle, crunching the tiny scrap of meat with a swollen tongue and hard teeth.
The description of Aureliano Segundo's gluttony in One Hundred Years of Solitude:
Life at home became so severe that Aureliano Segundo felt more comfortable in Petrina Cote's house. First, he moved the banquet to his mistress's house under the pretext of lightening his wife's burden. Then, on the pretext that the animals were losing their fertility, he moved the corrals and stables to her again. In the end, on the pretext that his mistress's house was not so hot, he even moved the small accounting room where he ran the business. It was too late when Philanda found herself a living widow. Aureliano Segundo hardly ever ate at home, only pretending to be home for the night, but that was not deceiving. One morning he was not careful, and he was found in Petna Cote's bed, but unexpectedly, not only did he not hear the slightest rebuke from his wife, not even the slightest complaint from her, but just before That day, Fernanda sent his two suitcases to his mistress's house. She was sent by the people through the middle of the street during the day, so that everyone in the town could see, thinking that a husband who did not walk the right path could not bear the shame, and would bend his neck and go back to the nest, but this brave gesture just proved once again, Feranda was unfamiliar with her husband's character and Macondo's customs, which had nothing in common with those of her parents--everyone who saw the box said it was the natural end of the story, the inside of the story. is known to everyone. Aureliano Segundo held a three-day banquet to celebrate his freedom. Apart from the misfortune between the husband and wife, Fernanda wore a long black dress and an outdated neck ornament, showing an untimely arrogance. The elephant was prematurely old; and the mistress, dressed in bright natural silk, revived her trampled rights, and her eyes gleamed with joy and rejuvenated her youth. Aureliano Segundo fell back into her arms, as eagerly as she had slept with her, for at that time she thought of him as his twin; sleeping with them, she thought that God had given her unparalleled happiness— One man can love her as much as two men. The revival of lust was unstoppable: more than once, the two of them had already sat at the table, staring into each other's eyes, without saying a word, covered the dishes, and went to the bedroom - both of them were only concerned with venting their lust, starving Gotta die.
Inspired by the things Aureliano Segundo saw during his surreptitious visit to the French geisha, he bought for Petrina Cote a bed with a canopy, like an archbishop's couch, in the window. Velvet curtains hung over it, and large mirrors were placed on the walls and ceiling of the bedroom. At the same time, he was more rambunctious and profligate than before. Every morning at eleven o'clock the train brought him boxes of champagne and brandy. When Aureliano Segundo came back from the station, as in an impromptu dance, he dragged away people he met on the road—locals or strangers, acquaintances or strangers, there was no difference. Even the slick Mr. Braun, who only speaks foreign languages, was attracted by Aureliano's gestures, and on several occasions he got very drunk at Petrina Cotter's house, and once he even let the fierce with him The German Shepherd danced, humming a Texas song to himself, accompanied by the accordion.
"Breed, cow," cried Aureliano Segundo in the climax of the feast, "breed—life is short."
Never had he been so happy, never had he been liked so much, never had his livestock reproduced so uncontrollably. So many cows, pigs and chickens were slaughtered for the endless banquet, the soil in the yard was muddy and sticky with blood, bones and internal organs were constantly thrown here, leftover food kept pouring here, These are burned almost every hour to keep the vultures from pecking the eyes of the guests. Aureliano Segundo had gained weight, and his face was purplish red, like a tortoise's face, but it was all due to his strange appetite, and even Jo Arcadio, who had traveled the world, could not compare with him. Aureliano Segundo's incredible gluttony, unheard-of profligacy, unparalleled hospitality—a reputation that spread out of the swamps and caught the attention of famous gluttons. Many astonishing gluttons came to Macondo from all over the coast to take part in the ridiculous gluttony competitions held at Petna Cote's house. Aureliano Segundo was often victorious, until one unfortunate Saturday came the arrival of Carmina Sagastoum; a totem-like woman, known throughout the country as the "Mother Elephant". The game continued into Tuesday morning. On the first day and night, he ate a calf, plus the daisies: cassava, yams, and fried bananas, and drank a half-box of champagne, and Aureliano Segundo was fully convinced that he would win. His spirit and vigour, he thought, outweighed his composure opponents; her way of eating was, of course, more adept, but for that reason it didn't interest most of the crowd that filled the room. When Aureliano Segundo was eager to win and bit into the meat, the "mother elephant" cut the meat into pieces with the technique of a surgeon, and ate it without haste, and even felt a certain pleasure. She was stout and fat, but feminine tenderness trumped her strength: she had a pretty face and elegant hands well-kept, and so irresistible that Aureliano Segundo saw When she came into the house, she even said that he would rather play with her on the bed than at the table. Then, he saw the "female elephant" eat a whole pig's leg, which did not violate the etiquette and rules of eating at all. Seriously, he said, this elegant, amazing, greedy woman was, in a sense, an ideal woman. He was not mistaken. In the past, it was not unfounded that the "mother elephant" was a greedy vulture. She is neither the legendary "meat grinder" nor the cheeky woman in the Greek acrobatic troupe, but the headmaster of the music school. When she was already a respectable mother, in order to find a way to make her child eat more, she also learned to gobble smartly, but not by artificially stabbing Stimulate the appetite, but rely on absolute peace of mind. Her tried-and-true theoretical principle is that a person can keep eating until he is tired, as long as his mind is at peace. And just like that, for psychological reasons and a competitive interest, she left her school and home to take on a nationally famous unbridled glutton. As soon as the "Mother Elephant" saw Aureliano Segundo, he immediately understood that what he was going to lose was not his stomach, but his character. Indeed, by the end of the first night, she still maintained her fighting power, while Aureliano Segundo consumed her strength by talking and laughing. They slept for four hours. Then, each drank fifty glasses of orange juice, eight liters of coffee, and ate thirty raw eggs. The next morning, after many hours of sleeplessness, ate two pigs, a bunch of bananas and four cases of champagne. The "Mother Elephant" began to suspect that Aureliano Segundo had unknowingly adopted her own methods, but was completely reckless. Therefore, he was more dangerous than she expected. Aureliano Segundo was on the verge of fainting when Petna Cote brought the two roast turkeys to the table.
"If it doesn't work, don't eat it," said the "mother elephant" to him, "even if it
's a win or lose." She said it sincerely, because she couldn't eat another piece of meat herself; she knew that every One bite would hasten his death. But Aureliano Segundo took her words as a new challenge, and he ate the whole turkey again, exceeding his incredible capacity and losing consciousness. He collapsed on a plate of gnawed bones, foaming from his mouth like a mad dog, and hissing of death. In the darkness he suddenly fell into, he felt that someone had thrown him from the top of the tower into a bottomless abyss; at the last moment, he knew that he had to die if he fell to the bottom.
"Take me to Philanda," he said before he had time.
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