Homestead in the Barbarian Realms

"Your father and I were just discussing his day at work. Why don't you tell our daughter about it, honey?"
"Janie, today I quit my job."
[Laughing]
"Then I told my boss to go fuck himself, and then I blackmailed him for almost $60,000. Pass the asparagus."
"Your father seems to think this kind of behavior is something t be proud of."
"And your mother seems to prefer that I go through life like a fucking prisoner while she keeps my dick in a Mason jar under the sink."
"How dare you speak to me that way in front of her? And I marvel that you can be so contemptuous of me on the same day that you lose your job!"
"I didn't lose it. It's not like, 'Whoops, where did my job go?' I quit! Pass the asparagus."
"Oh, oh, oh! And I want to thank you for putting me under the added pressure of being the sole breadwinner now."
"I already have a job."
"No, no! Don't give me a second thought as to who's going to pay the mortgage. We'll leave it up to Carolyn. 'You're going to take care of everything now, Carolyn?' 'Yes. I don't mind.' 'Everything? You don't mind having the sole responsibility? Your husband feels he can just quit his job, and you don't--'"
"Will someone please pass me the fucking asparagus?"
"[Daughter] I'm not going to be a part of this."
"Sit down! . . . I am sick and tired of being treated like I don't exist. You two do whatever you want to do whenever you want to do it, and I don't complain. All I want --"
"Oh, you don't complain? Oh, please! Excuse me! I must be psychotic then! If you don't complain, what is this? Yeah, let's bring in the laugh meter and see how loud it gets on that one."
[Smashes dinner plate]
"Don't interrupt me, honey . . . And another thing. From now on, we're going to alternate our dinner music, because, frankly-- and I don't think I'm alone here-- I am really tired of this Lawrence Welk shit."

-American Beauty, directed by Sam Mendez

Emotion vs. Reason

"What have I done to deserve this?"
"Nothing in particular."
"It's just that you always harp on your principles and drone on about how important everything is. But it's all just hot air. You know why? I'll tell you. Everything centers around your ego. You can't live without feeling superior. That's the truth. Everything has to be desperately important and meaningful . . . and goodness knows what."
"How else are we to live?"
"I used to think you were right. I tried to be like you, because I admired you. I didn't realize you disliked me."
"That's not true."
"Oh, yes, it is. You always have. I just never realized it before."
"No"
"Yes. And in some way you're afraid of me."
"I'm not afraid of you. I love you."
"You always talk a lot about love."
"You can't say - "
"What can't I say? That Ester feels hatred? That's just a silly idea of mine, right? You hate me, just like you hate yourself. Me, and everything that's mine. You're full of hate."
"That's not true."
"With all your education and all the fancy books you've translated, can you answer me one thing? When Father died, you said, 'I don't want to go on living.' So, why are you still around? Is it for my sake? For Johan's? For your work, perhaps? Or for no reason in particular?"
"It's not like you say. I'm sure you've got it all wrong."
"Don't use that tone of voice! Get out! Leave me alone!"
"Poor Anna."
"Why don't you shut up?"
"Poor Anna."

-The Silence, by Ingmar Bergman

Fear vs. Reason

"I see a gentleman here with his little boy. What do you think of the spaceship, son?"
"It's the biggest spaceship I ever saw."
"Ha ha ha."
"And you sir, mind telling us your name?"
"My name is Carpenter."
"Would you care to say a few words, Mr. Carpenter? I suppose you're just as scared as the rest of us."
"In a different way, perhaps. I am fearful when I see people substituting fear for reason. In fact, I would like--"
"Uh, thank you, Mr. Carpenter. Thank--Thank you very much."

Mr. Carpenter is the 'alien' in the movie, who is amazed at the suspicion and fear people in America have of the unknown. This movie is a great analysis of the American psyche and our lack of trust towards the unknown. Strangers are only strangers because they seem 'strange.' The spaceman eludes the police out of need of freedom which only heightens suspicion and 'security.' The greatest weapon the alien holds is the ability of its machine to dissolve weapons. How destructive/end irony/

-The Day the Earth Stood Still, by Robert Wise

Self Portrait

There was a faint, almost imperceptible rustle; Daniel had already dashed, razor in hand, to the door and flung it open. Too late, the child was too quick for him: she had fled, she must have huddled herself into an angle of the landing, where she stood with beating heart, holding her breath. Daniel noticed a little bunch of carnations on the mat at his feet. “Nasty little creature,” he said loudly. It was the concierge’s daughter, he was sure. He had only to look at her fried-fishy eyes when she said good-morning to him. This had been going on for a fortnight; every morning on her return from school she laid flowers outside his door. He kicked the flowers downstairs. He would have to stand and listen for a whole morning in the outer room, that was the only way he would catch her. He would emerge, naked to his belt, and fix her with a glassy eye. “It’s my head that attracts her, my head and my shoulders, as she’s a bit of an idealist. She’ll get a shock when she sees the hair on my chest.” He went back into his room and went on shaving. He observed in the mirror his dark, handsome, blue-jowled visage. “That’s what excites them.” An archangel’s face; Marcelle called him her dear archangel, and now he must submit to the admiring gaze of this deplorable child, who was just at the puffy stage of puberty. “Horrid little creatures,” thought Daniel angrily. He bent forward a little and with a neat stroke of the razor snipped the tip off his pimple. It wouldn’t be a bad joke to deface the head they all admired. “Pah, a scarred face is still a face, it always means something: I should get tired of it all the sooner.” He walked up close to the mirror and eyed himself distastefully. “Besides,” he said to himself, “I like to be good-looking.” He looked tired. He gripped himself at the level of the hips. He must get his weight down by a couple of pounds. Seven whiskies last evening all by himself at Johnny’s. Until three o’clock he hadn’t been able to make up his mind to go home because it gave him the shivers to put his head on the pillow and feel himself slide away into the darkness, reflecting that there must be a tomorrow.

-The Age of Reason, by Jean-Paul Sartre