Beautiful, all around. I join you Steve in a deep bow to Charles for his important voice. As one of my spirit guides once kindly said to me, “Constance, humility is the first step on your spiritual journey. Kabow! he got me. My self-confident presence was sadly a poor cover for the insecurity I felt as an aspiring spiritual educator. Who did I think I was to follow in the footsteps of the revered role models, I so wanted to be? while his message to me set me on a far sweeter course, I began noticing all the ways my ego was standing in the way of my hopes to fully understand the sacrifices of service in a new light. Once I began to extinguish the false beliefs I was carrying around like, proving myself to others that I was not ego-involved in my dedication to service, but wanting only to be a generator for greater self-wareness and the importance of spiritual understanding and eduction. Thank you and Charles for your openness and kindness.
French philosophy has played an outstanding role in the development of a philosophy of film. Henri Bergson was the first philosopher who adopted film as a conceptual model for philosophical thought. Cinema helped him to imagine the distinction between spatialized time and duration, an idea that would remain essential for his entire philosophy. Though Bergson’s ideas bear no relation with the more contemporary language-based models of reason (and his interpreter Gilles Deleuze never used them in that way), Bergson’s thought fused with the remaining field of French philosophy of cinema in an often paradoxical fashion. Though French philosophy of film is composed of diverse elements, French or even continental philosophy of film can appear as amazingly coherent. Deleuze’s Bergsonian concept of the “time-image,” for example, is very much compatible with ideas elaborated by the Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky who derived his insights not from Bergson, but from a critical evaluation of Russian formalist film theory.
In " 12 Years a Slave " there's a marvelous crane shot that starts looking through the window of a jail cell where the hero has been chained, then rises slowly up, over the rooftop, to reveal the city skyline, and in the background, the . Capitol. This shot is saying something, and it's saying it with images: the horror of slavery unfolded in the shadow of the very institution that gave America the laws she supposedly held dear. (And here's a lovely and chilling grace note that a critic friend just pointed out to me: in the shot, the Capitol dome is unfinished.)