Камера потъмняла (новела)
Публикувано на: 04 Юни 2008, 00:17
Разчитам, че повечето от вас не са гледали филм с Киану Риивс и Уинона Райдър. Този дето бил сниман за 1 ден, но отнело години да направят ефекта на анимация с живи хора. Е, получило се е като в новелата...
Та за нея ми е думата - A Scanner Darkly by Philip Dick
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Scanner_Darkly
Не ми се иска да преразказвам сюжета, и без друго ще се отплесна и ще ви го разкрия целия. А той типично в стила на Дик завършва с неочакван (ако четете негова творба за 1 път) финал и ще ви остави с пръст в уста. Ще ви се прииска да убиете автора (починал през 1984), за дето ви гаври цяла книга с морални и философски въпроси, а накрая ви поднася тъжната действителност. Дори и когато свикнете да го прави, той пак ви изненадва с някакво ново решение.
Мисълта ми е за новелата - в нея се третират няколко теми (през 1977 не ги е имало, но странно - има ги сега)
1. Полицейския контрол над обществото и мерките за сигурност (за сега само в САЩ... хехе)
2. Наркоманията и въздействито на наркотиците
3. Въздействието на новите технологии на бъдещето над хората
4. Мисловната дейност на мозъка и неговите функции
5. Унищожаването на индивида в името на 'святата идея'
6. Религиозните размишления (то ги има във всичките му творби)
И малък хинт - самия Филип Дик е наркоман, докато пише тази творба. Въздействието на медикаментите му оказва силно влияние и си личи. Доста. Но когато става въпрос за писател на научна фантастика, това явно действа добре, защото виждате какво може да роди гения, не просто като визия, а и като чисто човешки измерения в футуристичното Ориндж Каунти през 1994, когато се развива действието. Когато излиза "Камерата" 1994 е далечно бъдеще...
И финала... не няма да ви го разкрия, от филма ясно е показано каква е цялостната идея. Говоря за епилога и посвещението на новелата... които имат повече литературна стойност от доста неща, специално в този жанр. Не защото е връх на фантастиката, а защото е връх на хуманността...
В оригинал
This has been a novel about some people who were punished entirely too much for what they did. They wanted to have a good time, but they were like children playing in the street; they could see one after another of them being killed--run over, maimed, destroyed--but they continued to play anyhow. We really all were very happy for a while, sitting around not toiling but just bullshitting and playing, but it was for such a terrible brief time, and then the punishment was beyond belief: even when we could see it, we could not believe it. For example, while I was writing this I learned that the person on whom the character Jerry Fabin is based killed himself. My friend on whom I based the character Ernie Luckman died before I began the novel. For a while I myself was one of these children playing in the street; I was, like the rest of them, trying to play instead of being grown up, and I was punished. I am on the list below, which is a list of those to whom this novel is dedicated, and what became of each.
Drug misuse is not a disease, it is a decision, like the decision to step out in front of a moving car. You would call that not a disease but an error in judgment. When a bunch of people begin to do it, it is a social error, a life-style. In this particular life-style the motto is "Be happy now because tomorrow you are dying," but the dying begins almost at once, and the happiness is a memory. It is, then, only a speeding up, an intensifying, of the ordinary human existence. It is not different from your life-style, it is only faster. It all takes place in days or weeks or months instead of years. "Take the cash and let the credit go," as Villon said in 1460. But that is a mistake if the cash is a penny and the credit a whole lifetime.
There is no moral in this novel; it is not bourgeois; it does not say they were wrong to play when they should have toiled; it just tells what the consequences were. In Greek drama they were beginning, as a society, to discover science, which means causal law. Here in this novel there is Nemesis: not fate, because any one of us could have chosen to stop playing in the street, but, as I narrate from the deepest part of my life and heart, a dreadful Nemesis for those who kept on playing. I myself, I am not a character in this novel; I am the novel. So, though, was our entire nation at this time. This novel is about more people than I knew personally. Some we all read about in the newspapers. It was, this sitting around with our buddies and bullshitting while making tape recordings, the bad decision of the decade, the sixties, both in and out of the establishment. And nature cracked down on us. We were forced to stop by things dreadful.
If there was any "sin," it was that these people wanted to keep on having a good time forever, and were punished for that, but, as I say, I feel that, if so, the punishment was far too great, and I prefer to think of it only in a Greek or morally neutral way, as mere science, as deterministic impartial cause-and-effect. I loved them all. Here is the list, to whom I dedicate my love:
To Gaylene deceased
To Ray deceased
To Francy permanent psychosis
To Kathy permanent brain damage
To Jim deceased
To Val massive permanent brain damage
To Nancy permanent psychosis
To Joanne permanent brain damage
To Maren deceased
To Nick deceased
To Terry deceased
To Dennis deceased
To Phil permanent pancreatic damage
To Sue permanent vascular damage
To Jerri permanent psychosis and vascular damage
. . . and so forth.
In Memoriam. These were comrades whom I had; there are no better. They remain in my mind, and the enemy will never be forgiven. The "enemy" was their mistake in playing. Let them all play again, in some other way, and let them be happy.
Та за нея ми е думата - A Scanner Darkly by Philip Dick
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Scanner_Darkly
Не ми се иска да преразказвам сюжета, и без друго ще се отплесна и ще ви го разкрия целия. А той типично в стила на Дик завършва с неочакван (ако четете негова творба за 1 път) финал и ще ви остави с пръст в уста. Ще ви се прииска да убиете автора (починал през 1984), за дето ви гаври цяла книга с морални и философски въпроси, а накрая ви поднася тъжната действителност. Дори и когато свикнете да го прави, той пак ви изненадва с някакво ново решение.
Мисълта ми е за новелата - в нея се третират няколко теми (през 1977 не ги е имало, но странно - има ги сега)
1. Полицейския контрол над обществото и мерките за сигурност (за сега само в САЩ... хехе)
2. Наркоманията и въздействито на наркотиците
3. Въздействието на новите технологии на бъдещето над хората
4. Мисловната дейност на мозъка и неговите функции
5. Унищожаването на индивида в името на 'святата идея'
6. Религиозните размишления (то ги има във всичките му творби)
И малък хинт - самия Филип Дик е наркоман, докато пише тази творба. Въздействието на медикаментите му оказва силно влияние и си личи. Доста. Но когато става въпрос за писател на научна фантастика, това явно действа добре, защото виждате какво може да роди гения, не просто като визия, а и като чисто човешки измерения в футуристичното Ориндж Каунти през 1994, когато се развива действието. Когато излиза "Камерата" 1994 е далечно бъдеще...
И финала... не няма да ви го разкрия, от филма ясно е показано каква е цялостната идея. Говоря за епилога и посвещението на новелата... които имат повече литературна стойност от доста неща, специално в този жанр. Не защото е връх на фантастиката, а защото е връх на хуманността...
В оригинал
This has been a novel about some people who were punished entirely too much for what they did. They wanted to have a good time, but they were like children playing in the street; they could see one after another of them being killed--run over, maimed, destroyed--but they continued to play anyhow. We really all were very happy for a while, sitting around not toiling but just bullshitting and playing, but it was for such a terrible brief time, and then the punishment was beyond belief: even when we could see it, we could not believe it. For example, while I was writing this I learned that the person on whom the character Jerry Fabin is based killed himself. My friend on whom I based the character Ernie Luckman died before I began the novel. For a while I myself was one of these children playing in the street; I was, like the rest of them, trying to play instead of being grown up, and I was punished. I am on the list below, which is a list of those to whom this novel is dedicated, and what became of each.
Drug misuse is not a disease, it is a decision, like the decision to step out in front of a moving car. You would call that not a disease but an error in judgment. When a bunch of people begin to do it, it is a social error, a life-style. In this particular life-style the motto is "Be happy now because tomorrow you are dying," but the dying begins almost at once, and the happiness is a memory. It is, then, only a speeding up, an intensifying, of the ordinary human existence. It is not different from your life-style, it is only faster. It all takes place in days or weeks or months instead of years. "Take the cash and let the credit go," as Villon said in 1460. But that is a mistake if the cash is a penny and the credit a whole lifetime.
There is no moral in this novel; it is not bourgeois; it does not say they were wrong to play when they should have toiled; it just tells what the consequences were. In Greek drama they were beginning, as a society, to discover science, which means causal law. Here in this novel there is Nemesis: not fate, because any one of us could have chosen to stop playing in the street, but, as I narrate from the deepest part of my life and heart, a dreadful Nemesis for those who kept on playing. I myself, I am not a character in this novel; I am the novel. So, though, was our entire nation at this time. This novel is about more people than I knew personally. Some we all read about in the newspapers. It was, this sitting around with our buddies and bullshitting while making tape recordings, the bad decision of the decade, the sixties, both in and out of the establishment. And nature cracked down on us. We were forced to stop by things dreadful.
If there was any "sin," it was that these people wanted to keep on having a good time forever, and were punished for that, but, as I say, I feel that, if so, the punishment was far too great, and I prefer to think of it only in a Greek or morally neutral way, as mere science, as deterministic impartial cause-and-effect. I loved them all. Here is the list, to whom I dedicate my love:
To Gaylene deceased
To Ray deceased
To Francy permanent psychosis
To Kathy permanent brain damage
To Jim deceased
To Val massive permanent brain damage
To Nancy permanent psychosis
To Joanne permanent brain damage
To Maren deceased
To Nick deceased
To Terry deceased
To Dennis deceased
To Phil permanent pancreatic damage
To Sue permanent vascular damage
To Jerri permanent psychosis and vascular damage
. . . and so forth.
In Memoriam. These were comrades whom I had; there are no better. They remain in my mind, and the enemy will never be forgiven. The "enemy" was their mistake in playing. Let them all play again, in some other way, and let them be happy.