27 April 2012
Click on stamp, I have no idea what may happen.
Look, this is really elemental. It's a movie. Rent the movie and watch it.
Not popcorn, i would serve this up with a bagette and some unpasteurized soft cheese, some byrrh or vino.
It has soustitles/subtitles. But apart from about 1000 subtle and fleeting nuances, the story of Boudu and the family that rescued him from drowning in the river is largely indepentent of language. This is a Slow-Speed Train Wreck slowly and repeatedly happening for your astonishment. And I guess the Moral of the Fable of Boudu is
The Road to Hell
with Good Intentions.
Boudu, if my hazy memory is somewhere near accuracy, has the distinction of being the first peasant or villein -- the lowest rung on the Medieval European Social Ladder, a guy who in that scheme of things barely even deserved a name -- about whom some cleric scribe probably resident in a prosperous monastery in France took the time to write a few pages of daily-life biography not of a great King or Bishop or Prince or Holy Roman Emperor, but about an ordinary farm schmuck up to his ankles in domestic farm animal excrement, named Boudu.
Other than that the scribe wrote some details of his actual life, Boudu had done nothing -- other than shoveling domestic farm animal excrement for many decades -- to merit a permanent mark on the history of Medieval Europe. His destiny was to shovel cow shit, die, and be forgotten. The scribe, or someone who handed out assignments to this scribe, thought Bodu's story -- a very typical story of lots of other contemporary schlubs -- worth telling, and having been writ down, it has stayed that way for about 950 years. We know about as much about Boudu today as those who knew him at the time did. (Down at Boudu's Rung, there wasn't much to know about Boudu or anyone parallel to him.)
Although I myself don't know many guys named Boudu, boys from Frankish and Merovingian Times have been baptised Boudu ever since, now and then. Or so I think somebody once told me, and he or she should know. I think he or she was my college European History professor, or one of the books he expected me to read.
This cinema concerns a more modern Boudu -- circa 1933 -- and what happened to him and those who saved him from drowning in the river.
When you go fishing for human beings in the river, sometime you get a magnificent sturgeon, sometimes a trout or an eel, and sometimes you get Boudu. It's a crap shoot.
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