Magic and Poetry. Miyazaki's Howl and Others

Reason is important and should play a large role in our lives. After all, we enjoy achievements of technical and other kinds that are largely thanks to reason. Many of the forms of magic is also reasonable, if not entirely scientific. However, the aspect of magic closest to me is its relation to the irrational and the imaginary. The latter two are important, even if we assume that everything can be explained on a purely rational basis. In fact, one of the major underlying theme of current social problems , I think, is the inability to deal with the irrational. On the one hand this means that there is an irrational aspect of the human existence (and again, it may as well be described by rational means), an important one, which does not want to follow rules and laws. Instincts, hidden desires and the sort, some of which are simply banned, ignored, maybe punished, until they possibly return in a monstrous form (to borrow an expression used to describe Gothic horror). On the other hand, there is a not entirely unrelated, but rather more purely aesthetic or atmospheric aspect, that I merely refer to as poetry. This latter aspect is the one that I wanted to deal with here, solely in the framework of fiction.

It is the appeal of magic, which is magical. Whether it is an an atmosphere of ancient wisdom and sorcery or enchantment by the beauty of something, it is the appeal that I like and not whether it works in the physical world or not. In this sense it can be a very useful, in a way surreal craft to approach real and unreal in fiction. There are plenty of examples. Lovecraft's myth and its deadly book the Necronomicon, that so effectively embodies the occult and fearful, since we never can read it but know that whoever did, went crazy or worse. There is Polanski's "Ninth Gate" which takes us to the realm of old books, very rare and containing hidden knowledge only to the initiated. There is Burton's "Sleepy Hallow", an adventure in the world of Gothic and magic.

However, I wanted to show a few clips from Miyazaki's "Howl's Moving Castle" as ones I especially like. It is the story of a magician, Howl, who gave his heart to a demon, and a young girl, Sophie, who is turned into an old woman by a witch. The country is in war, which Howl finds mad, and sometimes interferes with. He is also hiding from his teacher, the royal sorceress, Saliman, who wants to put a control on magical practices in the country. The first scene shows the discovery of a malicious magic spell. I merely post it because it has the appeal I was referring to. The second is the confrontation scene with Saliman, where Sophie, now as an old woman, poses as Howl's mother. I love the idea of danger hidden behind such innocent looking things as that chanting... Like in other works of Miyazaki, there are lots of surreal images, events and characters, which somehow look familiar but yet which would be hard to explain. In a way they are also about reality as experienced by the viewer, and yet things just "melt together" as if in a dream. Howl is especially a good example of this sort of magic...

Magic, Rituals, Demons. Ritualistic Magic

I remember a psychiatrist once telling me he didn't believe in god, but always he always prayed before driving. His explanation was that it helps him relax, remove anxieties of what might happen and so on. Indeed, much of the history of "common magic" is about attempting to remove such real or imaginary threats from one's life. Rituals, ceremonies, prayers could be a useful tool to achieve this end. Indeed, often the ritual is more important that the actual credence in the reality of the thus addressed deity. Still with any tool, I guess the secret is how to use it, and what it should not become is an automatic procedure of habit or tradition.

Magic always had a ritual aspect. Contemporary magical trends owe a lot to the work of Eliphas Levi, who developed a system of rituals and their theory, based in a large part on Renaissance traditions. The person who pushed ritualistic magic to its limits in the early 20th century was Aleister Crowley (see above). Being "the most evil man in the world", his hedonistic rituals including sexual practices and the use of drugs made him a scandalous figure of his time. He placed the notion of thelema, or true will (true in the sense that it also incorporates one's higher destiny) in the center of his practices, and experimented with I would say whatever the human body and mind could take, eventually ruining his health. As some of his practices would lead to less attention nowadays, I would also venture saying that some of the sort of hedonistic experiments he pursued are now incorporated into what is regarded as normal or acceptable, and such experiments may have played a crucial role in this change. Another development in this regard was the Satanistic movement of Anton LaVey (see below). LaVeyan Satanism is symbolic, i.e., it does not include worship of a Satanic deity, but rather uses Satan as a symbol of man's true nature. For example, the Satanistic parallel to the Christian Golden Rule would be "Do unto others as they do unto you", simply because it is considered false to expect the same consideration from others as one pays to them, since it is not in human nature. Here I would halt for a moment. While I sympathize with this dictum since it very often proves true in my personal experience, I think the same potential source of mistake is there as with the Christian parallel, namely mindless application justified by a doctrine. In other words, I think it is really the individuum that matters, and could make an intelligent decision whether in a given situation one or the other action would be appropriate. It involves risk as any action of free will. In any case, the modern satanist seems to pay much attention to individualism and materialism. Magic is now a psychological means to govern situations or focus one's emotions to a given purpose via rituals. On a final note regarding rituals of any kind, I think their danger lies in biasing ones own view on the world one way or the other, and so they may become the master rather than the servant.

While I do not fancy any form of religion or thought connected to churches or other organizations, since after all this is a private matter, one has to appreciate the role these organizations play in the course of history, and evaluate the appearance of newer ones as indicators of important questions of the time. Neopagan movements including modern Witchcraft, or Wicca, should also be mentioned among the practitioners of modern ritual magic. Their ritual practices appear much more light-hearted and playful than those mentioned above, they are perhaps advocates of an imagination less bound by reason.

Magic In The Renaissance. Natural and Spiritual Magic

In the history of magic, the Renaissance age plays an especially important role. While learned forms of magic were also to be found in the Middle Ages, it was because of the Renessaince rediscovery of ancient texts and cultural heritage that magicians felt they possessed a much fuller understanding of ancient traditions than their medieval predecessors. Magic became one aspect of a philosophical rediscovery of Platonic ideas as opposed to the Aristotelian scholasticism of the Middle Ages. Greek texts from the Byzantine empire, and arabic magical texts written under hellenistic influence became the primary sources for the Renaissance Mage.

Above all, the main influence was Marsilio Ficino's translation of the Corpus Hermeticum, writings attributed to Hermes Trismegistos, the supposed Egyptian equivalent of Moses. Although later scholarship discovered that this and other writings attributed to Hermes can be dated to the second or third centuries only, indicating a strong Neoplatonist influence, Renessaince scholars believed these texts to be much more ancient, and in fact to be the original influence on Platon. The authority thus attributed to them made Hermeticism and attached magical practices appear in a much more favourable light than did Medieval necromancers, and other learned practitioners of magic. Ficino then developed a sort of "natural magic", which aimed at exploiting the physically available forces in the Neoplatonist universe, namely those from planetary influences, which could be used to one's benefit through the arrangement of one's environment in a way sympathetic to a planetary force and the corresponding mental and other advantages. Furthermore, talismans could be prepared which would enhance the accumulation of such influences. Although the latter aspect was much frowned upon, Ficino avoided any attempts to manipulate spheres above the planetary one, inhabited by angels and other spirits, and he thus managed to avoid most accusations of heresy and the like. Later, this was to change when Pico della Mirandola introduced the Jewish Cabalistic tradition into Renessaince magic to attract angelic influences, and by the influential work of Cornelius Agrippa, who did not even exclude demonistic influence (see planetry symbols from his work below). The most notorious case was that of Giordano Bruno burned at the stake for his Hermetic beliefs now without Christian disguise. It was also on account of the importance Hermeticism placed on the sun that Bruno incorporated the Heliocentric view of Copernicus into his system.

At this point, magic and science are pretty close to each other, especially in the sense that both aimed at operations, producing effects in the world based on an application of knowledge, which was foreign from the contemporary scholastic thought. Hermetic influence decreased in the following centuries, especially since its sources were dated in the mean time, and as an operative explanation of the universe, the mechanistic universe was brought forward. Still, even Newton's mechanistic universe with gravity as an operational force reminded many of the invisible forces of the occult. Indeed, the better understanding of the nature of gravity came only through the work of Einstein, and continues arising questions until the present day.

Walking My Baby Back Home

"Walking My Baby Back Home" is the title of a popular song that gave its name to a musical made in 1953. Above is the title sequence of the movie, and the first musical piece, the equally popular "Glow Little Glow Worm". The story is about a musical band looking for an identity, and finally finding it by rediscovering to Dixieland Jazz. Probably not the most famous one of musicals, and not with an overly complicated plot, but what is important, with a number of good musical tracks. In the main roles are Donald O'Connor, probably most well known for his role in "Singin' in the Rain", and Janet Leigh, most remembered after her meeting a terrible end under the shower in Hitchcock's "Psycho". On a personal note, I think O'Connor should have been given more opportunity to show his talent... and it is on this note that I have mainly selected scenes in which he performs, although Janet Leigh is also charming at places, and it was through her that I learned about this musical in the first place. I guess I am not the only one, who after seeing her in the Columbo episode "Forgotten Lady", wanted to learn more about the musical so emblematic for her character, who kills her husband to revive her career.

If some of the choreography in the first video reminds me a bit of Michael Jackson, than the second video of Donald O'Connor's step performance somehow suggests Michale Flatley, not as if there was any more direct link between these performers that I know of. In any case, this step sequence should join some scenes from "Singin' in the Rain", in my personal list of favorite moments with him. Last but not least, a comical scene, where O'Connor's character has to suffer an opera lesson given by a "more" than enthusiastic matron of the genre... For those who want more, the whole musical can be found here.

A Note on Dramatic Experience

In 2008, I wrote a short note with the following title, which I rediscovered recently. I have read it through, and changed a few smaller things in it, and so I thought, it could be published here, as a relic from a part of my personal intellectual history. What I wrote was not meant to be a strict categorization, rather an attempt to identify certain poles in dramatic experience, between which many continuous stages are possible. Well, here it goes:

In the arts and literature, drama is the genre that is basically meant for performance. The word itself comes from the ancient greek for ”to do”, meaning ”action”. During history, in different times and places, many varieties have evolved, from classic Greek dramas to the absurd theatre of the 20th century. This variety is described in many ways by many scholars. In the followings, only briefly some notes will be made based on the effect drama has on its audience. The focus is on how the dramatic act moves the viewer, which will draw a fuzzy border across the field, splitting it up to two regions.

One may talk about monumental dramas, like Hamlet, or other Shakespearean dramas, or dramas of the ancient classics. They are usually built around grand scale emotions, that the dramatic situation creates in characters, and by viewing, in the audience. This will lead to catharsis, ”purification”, in the sense that the viewers’ emotions are moved by the drama, and thus become expressed, and the viewer therefore purified. Therefore, catharsis here comes from identification. Identification of oneself with one of the characters, or rather, with his feelings which are given a monumental setting. It follows that for this to be effective, there should be only one dominant point of view. Like although we know a lot about Claudius, we see the events through Hamlet’s point of view. Monumentality requires that only the part of reality should be considered, or rather be justified, which promote the break-through of the emotion the act is built upon, simply because that is the nature of emotions, they don’t respond logically, they don’t consider. Therefore the heroes and villains are typically personalities of a certain emotion, or other dominant characteristic.

The other branch would be observational dramas, like Brecht’s work. In Brecht’s work, the identification was deliberately disturbed by various alienating effects. This means that there is no catharsis here in the above sense, and the audience is invited to observe, rather than to identify with the characters. Monumentality is put into a kind of vacuum. However, one may experience a different kind of catharsis here, one which is based on recognition. Instead of becoming monumental, this approach moves to the other direction of emotional ”sizes”. In the absurd, it is frequent that the same emotional psychology operates as in monumental dramas, but with minute events - instead of the death of one’s father, the unability to tie a shoelace may become the centre of emotions. We learn something different of our emotions here compared to the monumental where they are maximized and cast out; through a different emphasis, we see where they originate from, and often how they are expressed in our lives. This expression is rarely of grand scale (hence harder to identify with), rather, it is in everyday terms and events, and putting all intensity of accumulated emotions into such means is where the absurd is rooted. Absurd is one way to shift to observation, and the recognition of the emotional process is what brings catharsis, as if for a moment one would see himself from outside. More views can be present here equally dominantly, which often makes the contradiction less sharp, and the consequences suddenly serious.

Mishima

Mishima Yukio is the pen name of one of the most significant figures in the postwar 20th century Japanese literature. His aesthetic combination of traditional and modern has a long lasting influence, and this as well as other aspects of his life has been greatly publicized through various means of scholarly effort and public media. I merely would like to view him through the looking glass provided by two of his works, and fill in some necessary details to make a more or less complete story out of it.

 
The book I read from him some time ago was his "Confessions of a Mask" (1949), one of his early works, and the one that actually made him famous. In short, this is a semi-autobiographic novel, and tells the life experiences of a young man called Kochan raised in the militaristic contemporary Japanese society. Kochan is a physically weak, sensitive child, who is raised largely in isolation, and becomes involved in a fantasy world. A central element of his fantasies is his fascination with death. On the one hand, he finds romance in the idea of death as an escape into heroism from the realities of life. On the other hand, he increasingly fancies idealized male figures, whose full attraction is apparent to him only in the moment of their heroic and often grotesque death. The latter fantasies become the basis for his latent homosexuality. Later he admires a classmate for his masculine strength and body, something that he did not have but had always felt attracted to. At the same time, he develops a personality, the titular mask, behind which he hides these desires. Eventually, he even gets involved with a girl, going as far as kissing her, but while speaking about a sort of sympathy to her, he still remains amidst his fantasies. The most telling is perhaps the last meeting of the two near the end of the novel, interrupted by a description of a bloody fantasy involving a young man whom Kochan spotted. The fact that this novel made Mishima well-known is also worth pondering. I guess the degree of reality with which he wrote it, lends in itself artistic value to the novel, even though the topic it deals with is far from pleasant. Bloody fantasies at a very young age, and latent homosexuality, these are topics most readers of the book would perhaps not admit to have experienced, but which may have nevertheless formed part of the formative period of one's life, a part which he may later choose to forget. Mishima's realism is sensitive, not merely the automatic, unveiled and all revealing naturalism of a misguided surgeon cutting out a tumor only to kill the patient with it. That he was able to write a confession that was still interesting to wider audiences is alone a testimony for his talent.

The other work of Mishima that I intend to write about takes us near the end of his career. "Patriotism" of "The Rite of Love and Death" (1966), is a short film directed by Mishima, in which he also plays the main role of a Lieutenant of the royal guard and member of a group planning to overthrow the government they see unworthy for the service of the emperor. He is not participating in the actual coup d'état, mainly on account of his friends' appreciation of the devotion between him and his young wife. However, when the attempt fails, he is ordered to execute his friends. To deny this possibility, and at the same time remain loyal to the emperor, he decides to commit ritual suicide as the only honorable solution. He is rejoiced by the devoted decision of his wife to follow him in this act of honor, preceded by an intensified sexual experience brought about by the closeness of death. One might wonder, knowing what similar events took place later in Mishima's life, what happened to the character of Kochan, who falsely admitted having tuberculosis to avoid military service in the war, leading to almost certain death. In the mean time, Mishima has gone through a number of changes. He took up weight lifting, and overcame his initial weakness, becoming a male model. He also adopted a sort of nationalism, which clashed in a number of points with the mainstream patriotism (e.g. on the bushido). He also got married in 1958. Seeing from the point of view of only these two of his works, it appears that his fascination with death (and perhaps also that with the ideal male) was satisfied in the romance of nationalism, a historically supported possibility for heroic and honorable death. This possibility was perhaps more important that any other aspect of his nationalism, a way of expression for "tendencies" Kochan had to deal with. Mishima's real life attempt for a coup d'état, seems also to have been authored within the same spirit, as if anticipating failure, and leading to a romantic end. He did indeed commit seppuku in 1970, though the romance could have been somewhat spoiled by the several failed attempts by his aid to behead him. In my opinion, Mishima was an immensely sensitive and talented artists, whose romantic urges were impossible to satisfy in his contemporary social environment, which lead to his fantasies turning into a tragic reality. This leaves me thinking whether we have nowadays reached a level of awareness in dealing with sensitivity and "tendencies", which would make such an outcome less likely...

Pagliacci

Pagliacci (Clowns) is an opera composed by Leoncavallo. The basic storyline concerns a group of traveling actors (clowns), whose repertoire includes a comic scene between a cheated husband and his wife. This scene is played by the actor Canio, and his real life wife. However, by the end of the opera, Canio realizes that his wife indeed cheats on him. The final scene includes the performance of the supposedly comic scene turning into tragedy. Canio tries initially to play his role, but the lines are now filled with real emotions, which first their audience applauds. Confusion arises when gradually all pretenses of a play are dropped, and finally a real crime of passion is committed. It is under these circumstances that Canio sings the arietta of his role No! Pagliaccio non son! full with real emotions. Many a famous performance of this peace is known, it was for example considered a signature role of Caruso. The version I am now posting here is with Pavarotti. I have found this on youtube, and I was happy when I did, for I think I found treasure. Please, enjoy!