What interests me is history, and politics interests me only to the degree that it represents the mark history makes on the present. With an obsessive curiosity (if I identify with any of Kipling's characters, it's the Elephant Boy of the Just-So Stories, because of his "insatiable curiosity") I keep asking: How do people manage to live in such a world? And that's where my mania comes from, to see "how things are going" in this place or that.Here are some of Marker's finest marks:
Sans Soleil (1 of 10):
Sans Soleil (2 of 10):
Sans Soleil (3 of 10):
Sans Soleil (4 of 10):
Sans Soleil (5 of 10):
Sans Soleil (6 of 10):
Sans Soleil (7 of 10):
Sans Soleil (8 of 10):
Sans Soleil (9 of 10):
Sans Soleil (10 of 10):
At 06:28 in the 7th part (or 03:30 from the end), you can spiral through the Vertigo segment:
He wrote me that only one film had been capable of portraying impossible memory--insane memory: Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo. In the spiral of the titles he saw time covering a field ever wider as it moved away, a cyclone whose present moment contains motionless the eye.
In San Francisco he had made his pilgrimage to all the film's locations: the florist Podesta Baldocchi, where James Stewart spies on Kim Novak--he the hunter, she the prey. Or was it the other way around? The tiles hadn't changed.
He had driven up and down the hills of San Francisco where Jimmy Stewart, Scotty, follows Kim Novak, Madeline. It seems to be a question of trailing, of enigma, of murder, but in truth it's a question of power and freedom, of melancholy and dazzlement, so carefully coded within the spiral that you could miss it, and not discover immediately that this vertigo of space in reality stands for the vertigo of time.
