Occasionally planned series : Noveau Rasa
1. Maudlin
We have often been accused of being maudlin. And the word accused is precisely what one has always sought to refute, for its derogatory undertones.
The accusatory view: Maudlin is the two bit hoe you take because you cannot afford the emotional upheavals that come with that supposed Empress of emotion, Grief. Maudlin is the calorie-free saccharine substitute for depth of feeling and the mocktail with which you salute the grand gesture.
Not so.
Glorious peaks of emotion are scaled by vivid images on bright screens. They can afford to do so because their life rewinds after 3 hours; plus, it's so much better with background music. Us mortals sit in darkened halls, rapt in attention. Then when the lights come on, all of us get up, the gorment servant to the rickshaw puller, and head home, emotions purged in vicarious satisfaction. Their struggles are not heroic; their hopes and fears do not add up to tragedy; their loves and losses, their grind and the occasional success are all merely commonplace.
Which is why they require songs of lost love, tales of courtesans with hearts of gold, stories of rich girl falling for poor boy, and such like. To clothe themselves in the fantastic, to keep out the insistent drone of reality from overwhelming them.
Maudlin is the arrack made of battery acid and drainwater that the labourer takes to remember that he is alive and forget that he would be better off dead. It is the Mills n Boon that the college girl presses to her chest to ward off the sweaty bastard trying to cop a feel in the bus, the song of love that the maid hums as she removes the debris of last night's dinner from the table and the sequence filmed in Switzerland on chiffon wrapped heroines that the garbage truck man dreams of to keep the stench out of his head.
Maudlin, dear heart, is the armour that is given to stop us from stabbing ourselves dead.
We have often been accused of being maudlin. And the word accused is precisely what one has always sought to refute, for its derogatory undertones.
The accusatory view: Maudlin is the two bit hoe you take because you cannot afford the emotional upheavals that come with that supposed Empress of emotion, Grief. Maudlin is the calorie-free saccharine substitute for depth of feeling and the mocktail with which you salute the grand gesture.
Not so.
Glorious peaks of emotion are scaled by vivid images on bright screens. They can afford to do so because their life rewinds after 3 hours; plus, it's so much better with background music. Us mortals sit in darkened halls, rapt in attention. Then when the lights come on, all of us get up, the gorment servant to the rickshaw puller, and head home, emotions purged in vicarious satisfaction. Their struggles are not heroic; their hopes and fears do not add up to tragedy; their loves and losses, their grind and the occasional success are all merely commonplace.
Which is why they require songs of lost love, tales of courtesans with hearts of gold, stories of rich girl falling for poor boy, and such like. To clothe themselves in the fantastic, to keep out the insistent drone of reality from overwhelming them.
Maudlin is the arrack made of battery acid and drainwater that the labourer takes to remember that he is alive and forget that he would be better off dead. It is the Mills n Boon that the college girl presses to her chest to ward off the sweaty bastard trying to cop a feel in the bus, the song of love that the maid hums as she removes the debris of last night's dinner from the table and the sequence filmed in Switzerland on chiffon wrapped heroines that the garbage truck man dreams of to keep the stench out of his head.
Maudlin, dear heart, is the armour that is given to stop us from stabbing ourselves dead.
We never said maudlin. In fact quite the opposite. :P
Posted by
Anonymous |
November 12, 2006 7:00 AM
Hmmm. How goes?
Posted by
..N.. |
November 12, 2006 1:14 PM
Always, always, ALWAYS ask for my opinion before you venture to watch a Karan Johar magnum opus or anything with Aishwarya Rai in it. I can spare you the ordeal, the money AND the time.
Posted by
Anonymous |
November 12, 2006 4:05 PM
Ph : Contrary Mary, ain't we ?
Sola : Mmmmm. Shades of black, as you can see.
Me : Never, never, NEVER assume I would venture to see a K-Jo opus or anything with Aishwarya Rai in it. I cannot stand the ordeal, doan have the money AND the time. : ))
Posted by
?! |
November 12, 2006 7:07 PM
attaboy :)
Posted by
Anonymous |
November 16, 2006 6:53 PM
Maudern Talking - :))))
Posted by
?! |
November 16, 2006 9:54 PM
what's widda smileys? It's creeping e out :(
Posted by
Anonymous |
November 17, 2006 2:40 PM
This is too true to be maudlin.
Posted by
Banno |
February 17, 2009 10:32 AM