After Hours Martin Scorsese

 After Hours (1986)

Director: Martin Scorsese, Writer: Joseph Minion
Stars: Griffin Dunne, Rosanna Arquette, Verna Bloom

If a film, any film, is always made exactly three times (on the page, in the lens, at the cut) –– it might also be well assumed that this film, particularly were it to be Martin Scorsese's After Hours would then go on with each viewing to re-make itself ad infinitum. Who can say really? But this quality curious enough can still be seen as perhaps the sole distinguishing mark of cinema from that of its older and more venerated (at least in what was the old-modern world) literary sister.

No? Well, then let me propose this proof. The Tropic of Cancer. Never read it. But I did find something in Paul Hackett's character and his failed Hero's Journey I hadn't ever noticed before. Ok. Maybe that proof is not the best example of what I'm getting at, but for now it will have to do. So, for a moment, discarding this larger contextual comparison (literature vs cinema) there are only personal notes––of a deeper, more vulnerable identification with Hackett then I have ever cared to, or for that matter, been able to admit. 

But that has to be a good thing, right? Especially, if one holds to the trope (unless this were specifically the dark ages or what I call now the post new-age) with age comes wisdom––because what is wisdom to the wise––other than the infinite tenderness and infinite irony––such as the poem by Sarah Teasdale. And that irony and that tenderness however small or remotely disguised in the 'darkness' of such a dark comedy, as a film by Martin Scorsese ––still asks this question.

Ok. Back to the master thesis here for a moment––that of narration and its foibles. So, then the first of course being a certain discontinuity leaning towards disparities only imagined wrought throughout the great ages of the oral tradition. Yet our headaches wouldn't stop there as dear and near the written word would take only a fraction of an age to eviscerate ALL mutability of meaning simply with the powers of syntax and denotation, whoops, literally our bad. Yet can there even be one without the other? And sometimes HOW are these both?

And so now (and IF) there's a context apparent, so too my proof–– or rather–––my question of a dominance (discipline?) or importance of one over the other––that is between a fixed linear narrative vs the always subjective p.o.v.? Now that's what I would call a real kick in the face to beauty, art, god, or whatever...