As I Was Moving Ahead Occasionally I Saw Brief Glimpses of Beauty (2000) Script

I have never been able really to figure out where my life begins and where it ends.

I have never, never been able to figure it all out, What it's all about, what it all means.

So when I began now to put all these rolls of film together, to string them together, the first idea was to keep them chronological.

But then I gave up and I just began splicing them together by chance, the way I found them on the shelf.

Because I really don't know where any piece of my life really belongs.

So let it be, let it go, just by pure chance,

disorder.

There is some kind of order in it, order of its own, which I do not really understand, same as I never understood life around me, the real life, as they say, or the real people,

I never understood them.

I still do not understand them, and I do not really want to understand them.


Without knowing, unknowingly,

we carry, each of us, we carry with us somewhere deep some images of Paradise.

Maybe not images... some vague, vague feeling where we have been some place...

There are places, there are places in which we find ourselves in our lives, I have been in such places where I felt, ah,

this must be like Paradise, this is Paradise, this is how Paradise was, or something like that, a little fragment of Paradise.

Not only the places...

I have been with friends, we have been together, my friends, many times, and we felt,

some kind of togetherness, something special, and we were elated and we felt, ah, we felt like in Paradise.

But we were right here on this Earth.

But we were in Paradise...

Those brief moments, those moments, and that is maybe what it's all about...

Forget eternity, enjoy, yes, we enjoyed those moments, those brief moments, those evenings, and there were many such evenings many such evenings, my friends, I will never forget them, my friends...


I think Nietzsche was the transition.

I believe one of the absolute greatest philosophers of the Western culture is Nietzche.

The most preceise of all.

That's why he was the greatest influence...

He changed my life in 1960.

In 1959 I read his Dramaturgie

and I read the introduction of the second or third edition

which was years later, and he says, "Oh if I would have only written poetry

"and incorporated it all, instead of trying to say it as a philosopher, that was my failure."

So I said, that's enough:

I have to make my films now.

And that's when I left my job at the Graphic Studios and made "Guns of the Trees."

He had his mind, and he continuously struggles...


Here I am, in my editing room, this late night, this late night again.

I have stopped my tape recorder here...

That is, I am rewinding... as I'm working on my sounds...

Here I am, just with my images and my sounds... b)' myself, now in practically empty house.

Oona is now married and happy and she is in Brooklyn.

But actually, this very minute she's watching with Sebastian, they went to a movie.

Hollis is out, she left early this morning, I left before her, so I don't know where she is and when she's coming back home.

So here I am, just myself,

and cats and my images and my sounds and myself, myself.

Wondering, wondering about myself.

Actually, maybe I am exaggerating.

I'm not really wondering.

I'm just doing my work.

I'm just working.

This is my little workshop here, this little room,

loaded, stacked with film, and my two bayans...

Here is one, and here is another,

as I'm working on my sounds.

I'm not so sure what I'm doing really.

It's all chance.

I'm going through all the reels of my sounds, picking up this, picking up that, splicing it all together, putting it all together, by chance, same as the images same as I am putting those images together,

exacty the same when I originally filmed them, by chance, with no plan, just according just to the...

just to the whim of the moment, what I felt at that moment that I should be filming this or that, without knowing why.

Same with the sounds that I have collected through all those years, I'm picking up all those sounds and putting them here on the soundtrack, by chance.


Memories... Memories...

Image, sound memories.

No judgment here... positive, negative, good, bad... they're just images and sounds,

very very innocent

in and by themselves, as they pass through...

as they go and they go, very very innocent.

Yes, people are bad, cinema is innocent, innocent.

People are not innocent.

They are not.


Here is a surprise for Chapter Three.

Now, what do the normal, regular people usually do?

Of course, they get married.

So, Hollis and me, that is, the protagonist of this film, we decided to try to be like all the normal,

serious people: we decided to get married.

Ah, Almus, with your boundless energy...

Ah, Jacques Ledoux, sweet Ledoux...

Ah, P. Adams, Allan.

Ken, and Richard.

Harry I miss your jokes...

I miss your jokes.

Ah, and there is the man of the minute... and Hollis's father, and Hollis's brother...


Title: January 10th.

Watching the snow fall.

Keep looking for things, in places, where there is nothing.

The dream, the crying room.

The crying room.

The crying field.

There is a room, there is a room, we never see its...

inside.

There is a room in which there is a woman who cries and cries.

We hear her crying but we never see her.

The crying field.

There is a room.

"Wir nichts von den Dingen wissen was wir nicht selbst in sie hinein gelegt haben.“ Emmanuel Kant


The silence.

The silence.

But what happens during the silences?

Yes, the silences...


But what happens during the silences?


The pain is stronger than ever. I've seen bits of lost Paradises and I know I'll be hopelessly trying to return even if it hurts.

The deeper I swing into the regions of nothingness the further I'm thrown back into myself, each time more and more frightening depths below me, until my very being becomes dizzy.

There are brief glimpses of clear sky, like falling out of a tree, so I have some idea where I am going, but there is still too much clarity and straight order of things, I am getting always the same number somehow.

So I vomit out broken bits of words and syntaxes of the countries I've passed through, broken limbs, slaughtered houses, geographies. My heart is poisoned, my brain left in shreds of horror and sadness.

I've never let you down, world, but you did lousy things to me.

This feeling of going nowhere, of being stuck, the feeling of Dante's first strophe, as if afraid of the next step, next stage.

As long as I don't sum up myself, stay on the surface, I don't have to move forwards, I don't have to make painful and terrible decisions, choices, where to go and how.

Because deeper there are terrible decisions to make, terrible steps to take.

It's at forty that we die, those who did not die at twenty.

It is at forty that we betray ourselves, our bodies, our souls, by either staying on the surface or by going further but through the easiest decisions, retarding, throwing our souls back by thousands of incarnations.

But I have come close to the end now, it's the question will I make it or will I not.

My life has become too painful and I keep asking myself, what I am doing to get out of where I am, what am I doing with my life.

It took me long to realize that it's love that distinguishes man from stones, trees, rain, and that we can lose our love and that love grows through loving, yes, I've been so completely lost, so truly lost.

There were times I wanted to change the world, I wanted to take a gun and shoot my way through the Western Civilization.

Now I want to leave others alone, they have their terrible fates to go.

Now I want to shoot my own way through myself, into the thick night of myself.

Thus I change my course, going inwards,

thus I am jumping into my own darkness.

There must be something, somehow, I feel, very soon, something that should give me some sign to move one or another direction.

I must be very open and watchful now, completely open. I know it's coming.

I am walking like a somnambulist waiting for a secret signal, ready to go one or another way, listening into this huge white silence for the weakest sign or call.

And I sit here alone and far from you and it's night and I'm reflecting on everything all around me and I am thinking of you.

I saw it in your eyes, in your love, you too are swinging towards the depths of your own being in longer and longer circles.

I saw happiness and pain in your eyes and reflections of the Paradises lost and regained and lost again, that terrible loneliness and happiness, yes, and I reflect upon this and I think about you, like two lonely space pilots in outer cold space, as I sit here this late night alone and I think about all this.


So, my dear viewers, we have arrived at Chapter Four.

SONY

that nothing much, nothing extraordinary has so far happened in this movie,

nothing much extraordinary.

It's all very simple daily activities, life.

No drama, no great climaxes, tension, what will happen next.

Actually, the titles in this movie tell you right there what's going to happen.

I guess, by now you have noticed that I do not like any suspense.

I want you to know exactly, or at least approximately what's coming, what's happening.

Though, again, as you have noticed,

nothing much is happening anyway.

So let's continue,

and see, maybe something will happen, maybe.

If not, forgive me, dear viewers,

if nothing happens, let's continue anyway.

That's how life is,

it's always more of the same, always more of the same.

One day follows another, one second follows another second.

OK, I'll give you now some suspense and let's see,

let's see how the time is going...


I'll record exactly one minute beginning now...


Cut. That was one minute.

One minute is longer than one thinks.


And the mist now covers the sand.

And the mist now covers the sand.

I have been so totally alone with myself for so long.

I've been so totally alone with myself for so long.

1960.

He sits under the tree in the park listening to the leaves of the trees in the wind.

That day you wanted to come with me but you couldn't.

I went alone but it wasn't the same.

You said you had a feeling that in one of my lives I had something to do with the circus.

You said, you could see me in Spain.

Title: January 9th.

No image.

Only soundtrack of Louis and Storm discussing something, bits, glimpses of mystics.


My dear viewer, it's midnight now.

I am talking to you and it's very very late in my little room.

I'm looking at these images and I'm trying to provide you with some sounds to go with these images, and my imagination, my mind has just stopped dead.

I am looking at these images, now, many many years later.

I recognize and remember everything.

What can I tell to you, what can I tell to you.

No. No. These are images that have some meaning to me but may have no meaning to you at all.

Then, suddenly, this being midnight, I thought:

There is no image that wouldn't relate to anybody else.

I mean, all images around us that we go through our lives, and I go filming them, they are not that much different from what you have seen or experienced.

From what you have seen or experienced.

All our lives are very very much alike.

Ah, my dear Blake.

Just a drop of water.

We are all in it and nothing, there is no big difference, essential difference between you and me, no essential difference.