Notes on The Magus (1968)

Yesterday I was thinking about the concept of "things as old as me."  Specifically, I was on my way to Walk Dizzy Whirl and although it's a little younger than me, it came to mind as timeless and old-fashioned and ahead of its time. just like me.  Then there is Sonny's which debuted in 1968.

That same year, The Magus film was released and I'm sure I didn't notice.

There's great value in seeing a movie again, I think.  And I've noticed that the way my mind works is that I'm caught up in the narrative - maybe, sometimes- and although I've already seen what happens; the next time I see a movie I can concentrate on plot better because I'm not as bamboozled by the other things the second time around.

Anthony Quinn- the Most Interesting Man in the World; Michael Caine- Mister Blonde British Ingenue; and Candice Bergen- The Non-Hitchcock Blonde; all do a great job drawing me in to what I see now as a parable for me.  What do I do?  Where do I fit in?  What's this all about?  Who is that man behind the curtain?  And wait. how many curtains are there?

As I contemplate the possibility of spectating live around the world with millions, the grande dame of initiation rites into the screen legends club- the Oscars are tonight- I think of that checkered floor featured in so many YouTube videos descrying Masonry.  I've recently met a Mason, and he's a great person.  Now what does that tell me the non-initiated, about the club?  Not much, presume.  But in the Magus, the world stage and the actors upon it are pared down to the audience- reality show performers- bit players who only know part of the story- and actors;; who surround the candid cameraed Michael Caine and make him see a little of himself and a little of his perspective of the world.

The Magus wouldn't work in the same way today.  The idea of "fallen woman" has fallen so far that in order to build up rage against someone as icy beautiful as Bergen, she would have to be accused of serial killings or something.  After all, in order to win for playing one, Charlize had to get bad teeth and frizzy hair as well as the worst cinematic sin of all- bad skin.  Of course, it wasn't even really that bad, but kind of normal which should never be up on the screen- horrors!

The Magus would be a great one of those theoretical to come type movies that involve real actors in real sex scenes that aren't really the point of the movie.  I think we're almost there.  Trump's accused of golden showers with no film to back it up- Hillary has her lesbian lover who's husband's parts have been documented but Yoko's lovers' "crimes against humanity" go unseen.  Of course the day is coming when one of the Presidential races will be decided with pornographic evidence as part of the mix.  This hasn't happened yet?  In the age of cell phone cameras and unparalleled voyeurism?

Caine is playing that part that I identify with - White Boy in this place, but played by women too- usually blonde, wide-eyed and innocent- The Canvas.  Luke in the Star Wars saga, Lawrence in Arabia, Jude Law, Alfie, Albert Finney, Peppard in Tiffany's, some Ryan or another (Gosling, Phillipe, Jeri or Meg or Reynolds), James Dean or Ashley Gone With the Wind without knowing how that happened exactly- a white canvas being easier to paint on, Morgan Fairchild, one of the wives of John Derek wide-eyed like white English cotton, or corn, or potatoes; all bleached like white flour before toasting to just the right color.

Quinn is of course the man of mystery- the Mexican, the Greek, the international swashbuckling Flynn, Harrison Ford, Rhett selling no wine before its time- a little older, wiser, wine women and song man.

Candice is of course the woman.  Diana chaste and Madonna pure.  Hellenized into the ideal- so naturally she doesn't do much.

The trappings of history are there.  Nothing left of Egypt but the mask of the jackal god- death and mummification of course; leading to Hellenization and that little smile the inkling of self-recognition we Westerners see when we look back behind the shutters to reveal a version of man in the past we can be comfortable with.  Almost Greek- they say, whenever an antiquity doesn't fit the timeline presenting Liberty ss the pinnacle of human experience.

Freedom to do what?  Hurt the woman instead of himself?  Become the Man of Mystery? 

So there he is, I AM, surrounded by a violin and students; the Aegean and its dregs, shimmering in the sun on a golden shore being kidnapped from the forest chapel and living surrounded by Byzantine murals.