In the heart of darkness, life

The-Tree-of-Life

After seeing "Tree of Life", I for a long time forbade myself to write about this film. Two forces clashed within me. Captivated by the poetry, by the state of bliss in which I was immersed, I was afraid of disturbing the surface of this work. I got so wrapped up in the mystery of this film that I couldn't understand the negative reactions and was unable to think critically 1 . “Tree of Life” is based on a book of the Bible, “the Book of Job”. And this dark book speaks of life and of man's relationship to God. Which is present in many books of the Bible. But the Book of Job begins with a dialogue between God and Satan who play with man. The impression left by this inaugural dialogue is strange. Of course, the opening dialogue wouldn't be quite from the same era as the central narrative. It does not matter in fact, the impression left is represented during the course of the book. How can God make fun of his beloved creature? A hasty conclusion accounts for the implausibility of the situation. In truth, once the bark is removed, the Book of Job delivers the heart of the relationship between God and man. And “Tree of Life”, the film by Terrence Malick, has the same ambition.

Continue reading “In the Heart of Darkness, Life”

Emmanuel Todd or intellectual vulgarity

Emmanuel Todd was on France Culture the other morning to give us his good word. Emmanuel Todd is a prophet. He's got it. Above all, he claims it. He doesn't have the honesty. Indeed, one cannot be a prophet and an ideologue.

Continue reading “Emmanuel Todd or intellectual vulgarity”

The chronicler's hatred

I call this article the columnist's hatred. The French chronicler—because he is indeed dealing with a French disease—is how he invents himself master of time, of the world, and above all of how he is doing. It's unbearable. Redact the chroniclers and tear out the buds!

All these columnists together form nothing more than a Café du Commerce. With references.

I take for example the opening of the antenna of France Culture in the morning. For 30 years, I have listened to France Culture every morning. I am what is called a France Culture aficionado. Culture Matin by Jean Lebrun was part of my DNA. I loved him until his political correctness and partisanship came to the fore with the war in Yugoslavia. Fortunately, he left the ship which he seemed to scuttle all alone.

Continue reading “The Chronicler’s Hatred”