On Self-Isolation (Entry from the Dementia Diary)

Photo by Sasha Freemind on Unsplash 

unsplash.com

 

 

After 2,440 days in exile and isolation - of which the last 520 days have effectively been spent in solitary confinement (only a demented old woman and a cat for company) - I can vouch for the fact that:  

 

"The experiences of a man who lives alone and in silence are both vaguer and more penetrating than those of people in society; his thoughts are heavier, more odd, and touched always with melancholy. Images and observations which could easily be disposed of by a glance, a smile, an exchange of opinion, will occupy him unbearably, sink deep into the silence, become full of meaning, become life, adventure, emotion. Loneliness ripens the eccentric, the daringly and estrangingly beautiful, the poetic. But loneliness also ripens the perverse, the disproportionate, the absurd, and the illicit." 

 

- Thomas Mann, Death in Venice, trans. Kenneth Burke, (The Dial, 1924).

Hyaena

A spotted hyaena (Crocuta crocuta)

aka the laughing hyaena

 

"I trot, I lope, I slaver, I am a ranger. 

I hunch my shoulders. I eat the dead." [1]

 

 

I. 

 

There are, as a matter of fact, four distinct species of hyaena. But I suspect that when most peope think of them - if and when they think of them at all - they think of the spotted laughing hyaena.

 

I also suspect that most people think of them with a shudder and a curl of the lip, finding them an uncanny mix of the creepy and contemptible; cowardly pack hunters that torment their prey, or scavengers skulking round graveyards and feasting on the bodies of the dead. 

 

 

II. 

 

D. H. Lawrence certainy wasn't a fan. He regarded the hyaena - like the vulture and baboon - as an example of arrested development; an evil creature that obscenely preserves a "fixed form about a voracious seethe of corruption" [2] and which knows no shame.   

 

The howl of the wolf may unsettle him, but it is the laugh of the hyaena that fills Lawrence with fear and horror - that and the "loathsome, cringing, imprisoned loins" [3] that are amost dragged along in the dust and dirt. 

 

The hyaena, says Lawrence, "can scarcely see and hear the living world; it draws back to the stony fixity of its own loins, draws back upon its own nullity, sightless save for carrion" [4].

 

It's surprising, when one considers his animosity against the poor hyaena, that Lawrence didn't refer back to that ancient belief they were hermaphrodites; i.e., intersexual creatures alternating with fluidity between male and female roles. [5].   

 

For as we know, Lawence was a passionate proponent not only of sexual difference, but sexual dualism: 

 

"Sex surely has a specific meaning. Sex means being divided into male and female. [...] Every single living cell is either male or female, and will remain either male or female as long as life lasts. [...] The talk about a third sex, or about the indeterminate sex, is just to pervert the issue." [6]

 

The truth of this is essential for Lawrence, as it is for early Christian writers, such as Clement of Alexandria ...

 

 

III.

 

Despite being a Christian theologian and recognised as a Church Father, Clement of Alexandria was heavily infuenced by Greek philosophy and literature, particularly Plato and the Stoics. Fragments of his more obscure writings suggest he was also deeply familiar with Jewish esotericism.   

 

Although we don't know for certain when he was born or when he died, we do know that the moral lessons that Clement takes from the animal kingdom are invariaby negative; the hyaena, for example, teaches man what mustn't be done. 

 

Not that he takes seriously the legend concerning its hermaphroditism; rejecting it on the grounds that once the logic of nature - or, if you prefer, the stamp of creative reason - has determined what an animal is, it cannot be changed [7]. Thus, the hyaena, cannot switch sexes; nor does it possess two sexes, or a third intermediary sex between male and female.

 

However, Clement is obliged to address the fact that the genitalia of the female hyaena closely resembles that of the male; the enlarged clitoris is not only shaped and positioned like a penis, but is capable of erection. The female also possesses no external vaginal opening, as the labia are fused to form a pseudo-scrotum. Traversing the length of the pseudo-penis is a central canal, through which the female urinates, copulates, and gives birth. [8] 

Interestingly, although Clement describes the female hyaena's peculiar anatomy in exactly the same manner as Aristotle, he comes to his own conclusion: it must be due to the animal's moral shortcomings. In other words, hyaenas have a body that's arranged in such a queer fashion, because of a defective nature and the fact that, like men, they are prone to lasciviousness ... [9]

 

 

IV.

 

Despite the fact that, as a Lawrentian, I'm supposed to despise them, I'm starting to feel a certain admiration for the hyaena, which have limped on the face of the earth for millions of years. 

 

And this is not just because they challenge certain ideas about sexual dimorphism, but because they also curdle the line of distinction between cat and dog. For athough phylogenetically closer to felines, hyaenas are behaviourally and morphologically similar to canids; they hunt like dogs, for example, but they groom, scent mark, and defecate like cats ... 

 

Perhaps they only laugh because they don't know whether to bark or purr ...

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Edwin Morgan, 'Hyena', in Glasgow to Saturn, (Carcanet, 1973). The verse can also be found in Morgan's Collected Poems, (Carcanet Press, 1990). To read on the Scottish Poetry Library website, click here.

 

[2] D. H. Lawrence, 'The Crown', Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, ed. Michael Herbert, (Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 295.  

[3] Ibid., p. 299.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ovid gives reference to this in Metamorphoses; see 15: 408. 

      Although Aristotle rejected this belief and few naturalists following him gave the idea any credence, still the queerness of the hyaena was taken as a given and its reputation amongst those who, like Lawrence, read everything (including animal behaviour and anatomy) in moral terms, was irretrievably damaged.      

[6] D. H. Lawrence, Fantasia of the Unconscious, ed. Bruce Steele, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 66 and 126. 

 

[7] Christian ontology - building on its Platonic origins - insists upon the fixed nature of being; there is no transformation of essential forms; one species cannot become another and nor can one sex transition into the other.    

 

[8] In fact, the hyaena is the only placental mammal where females lack an external vaginal opening and have a pseudo-penis instead. This isn't something that seems advantageous; not only does it make mating difficult, but giving birth isn't a barrel of laughs either, often proving fatal for mother and cub (approximately 15% of females die during their first time giving birth and over 60% of firstborn cubs are dead on arrival).

 

[9] See Michel Foucault, Confessions of the Flesh, trans. Robert Hurley, (Penguin Books, 2021), pp. 19-21. 

     

    

From Too Many Notes to Silence

Figure 1: Joseph II / Figure 2: Mozart / Figure 3: John Cage 

                           

 

I.

 

Following the premier of Entführung aus dem Serail [1] in the summer of 1782, at the Burgtheater (Vienna), Mozart famously had an exchange with the man who had commissioned the work, Emperor Joseph II. 

 

Whilst the latter lavishy praised the three-act comic opera, he suggested that there were times when the music became too convoluted and contained, as it were, too many notes ... [2]

To be fair to Joseph - who was by no means musically illiterate or some kind of Bildungsphilister - the complexity of Mozart's work had been noted by others - including Goethe - and what he actually said was: Zu schön für unsere Ohren, und gewaltig viel Noten, lieber Mozart!

This might more accurately be translated into English as: 'Too beautiful for our ears, and a great many notes, dear Mozart!' 

 

Such a translation doesn't unfairly portray the Emperor in a foolish light - although it does, of course, rob the story of its humorous aspect.     

II.

I thought of this the other day when trying to read what was, in my view, a long and overly wordy poem, written by someone (about a pet parrot of all things) who has argued in the past in favour of pleonasm (i.e., an excess of language). 

 

Rightly or wrongly, however, like the Holy Roman Emperor of anecdote and cinematic fiction, I do think that a poem can have too many words and that often it's what is not said that matters most; i.e., the space between words is the true space of poetry. 

 

Thus, for me, the task of the poet is not to assemble words, but to take language apart and show its limitations; to erase meaning and return us to lovely silence, the great bride of all creation [3]. 

 

Perhaps the perfect poem is ultimately the one that remains unspoken, unwritten; just as the perfect piece of music is the one with no notes, performed by no instruments, à la John Cage's 4'33" [4].      

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Known in Engish as The Abduction from the Seraglio, the work is a German-language music drama, known as a Singspiel. 

 

[2] This exchange between composer and monarch was nicely dramatised in the 1984 film Amadeus (dir. Miloš Forman), with Tom Hulce as Mozart and Jeffrey Jones as Emperor Joseph II: click here.

 

[3] D. H. Lawrence, 'Silence', in The Poems, Vol. I, ed. Christopher Pollnitz, (Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 612.

 

[4] 4′33″ is a three-movement work by American experimental composer John Cage. It was written in 1952, for any instrument or combination of instruments, and the score instructs performers to remain silent during the entire duration of the piece. One wonders what Emperor Joseph II would make of this ...? (Not enough notes, Mr. Cage!) My concern is that the composition only gives us a negative representation of silence; silence as a lack or absence of sound.

      To watch the BBC Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Lawrence Foster, give their interpretation of the work at the Barbican, London, in 2013, click here.

Reflections on Alessandro Raho's New Portrait of Young Kim

Alessandro Raho: Young Kim (2022)

Oil on canavas (110 x 180 cm)

 alisonjacques.com

 

 

I.

 

Viewing Alessandro Raho's latest portrait of Young Kim at a recent event in London [1] and listening to what was said in a three-way conversation between the artist, the sitter, and the critic Michael Bracewell about the complex relationship between art, fashion, music and sex, one couldn't help but think of D. H. Lawrence's dismissive assessment of English painters; not so much devoid of genuine feeling for visual imagery, as full of fear of the body as a site of various forces, flows, and sicknesses. 

 

It is this fear, says Lawrence, which distorts their vision and suppresses their instinctive-intuitive consciousness.

 

Still, every cloud has a silver lining and this act of suppression did at least enable English artists of the 18th-century to become the best in the world at painting clothes. For painters such as Hogarth, Reynolds, and Gainsborough, it is clear that the coat matters more than the man. 

 

Lawrence writes:

"An old Reynolds colonel in a red uniform is much more a uniform than an individual, and as for Gainsborough, all one can say is: What a lovey dress and hat! What really expensive Italian silk! This painting of garments continued in vogue, till pictures like Sargent's seem to be nothing but yards and yards of satin from the most expensive shops, having some pretty head popped on at the top. The imagination is quite dead. The optical vision, a sort of flashy coloured photography of the eye, is rampant.

      In Titian, in Velasquez, in Rembrandt the people are there inside their clothes all right, and the clothes are imbued with the life of the individual, the gleam of the warm procreative body comes through all the time [...] But modern people are nothing inside their garments, and a head sticks out at the top and hands stick out of the sleeves, and it is a bore." [2]

 

 

II.

 

Alessandro Raho appears to follow in this tradition, as the above portrait of Young Kim illustrates. It is a beautiful rendition of a multicoloured mohair jumper by Kim Jones for the Louis Vuitton S/S 2017 menswear collection, but the woman inside the jumper seems to have simply faded away into the blank void of the background; just a head and neck sticking out of the top of the punk-style sweater and two tiny hands sticking out of the sleeves.     

 

But, having said that - and having seen the work up close and spoken with the artist - I can't help being impressed by it and by him. 

 

First of all, he didn't seem to me to be gripped with fear at all; nor simply following in the footsteps of those famous names who came before him and whom Lawrence dismissed. In fact, Raho seems to gently mock the laughably old-fashioned tradition of portraiture by refusing to dramatise or idealise the figures he paints [3] and by having them return our gaze with interest (so that we are objectified in the process of viewing). 

As for Lawrence's concerns about Kodak vision, well, it is true that Raho does work from photographs, but, interestingly, he employs his skill as a painter to somehow capture something that the camera lens cannot; something that might be termed (for want of another word) presence. 

 

Raho is not simply aiming for realism in his portraits, so much as longing nostalgically for the same thing Lawrence desired; i.e., to come into touch, even when he knows this is no longer an easy matter when we have all become digital images to one another within a virtual universe. 

 

Perhaps having intuitively reached a similar conclusion to Lawrence about portrait painting, Raho has decided to push the process that the latter describes to its limit. The picture of Young Kim is thus deceptively straightforward and innocuous; for it is, as Nietzsche would say, superficial out of profundity [4].

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The event took place on Monday 28th November (7-11pm) at the bookstore-cum-library-cum arts venue Reference.Point (London, WC2). It was held to celebrate the launch of the trade edition of Young Kim's unique little red book A Year on Earth with Mr. Hell (2020). 

      A reading from the work was followed by a discussion with Michae Bracewell and Alessandro Raho in the presence of the latter's latest painting of Young Kim. There was also an informal screening of Malcolm McLaren's video project Shallow 1-21 (2009), although, sadly, no one seemed to pay much attention to this.   

[2] D. H. Lawrence, 'Introduction to These Paintings', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 193-94.

 

[3] This desire to make art which is both contemporary and commonplace is of course crucial to a realist aesthetic and, however else we might describe Raho's work, we can almost certainly say it's a form of realism - though what kind of realism is debatable.

 

[4] See section 4 of Nietzsche's 1886 Preface to The Gay Science, where he writes that in order to live in a Greek manner we must remain courageously at the surface of the skin, the fold of the dress; i.e., learn to adore appearance and trust in forms. 

      Cf. my interpretation of Raho's work with that of Michael Bracewell, who argues that the portraits are concerned with "emotional and psychological depth". See Bracewell's essay in The Art of Alessandro Raho (Lund Humphries, 2011). 

 

 

Chinese Pigs

Support Compassion in World Farming

 

 

I. 

 

The pig has historical, cultural and even astrological significance in China. 

 

And whilst the pig hasn't always had the best of reputations amongst Westerners, the Chinese have traditionally associated this intelligent and sociable animal with positive things, such as wealth and happiness. 

 

And good eating: for whilst the Chinese consume pretty much anything under the sun, it's pork that has long been the main source of protein in their diet. 

 

In a country of 1.4 bilion people, that means a lot of pigs have to be reared each year; which means in turn that industrial farming has to be elevated to a whole new level - in fact, to multiple new levels ...  

 

 

II.

 

The world's biggest single-building pig farm has just opened in Hubei province, central China; a 26-story Tötungszentren, with a capacity to slaughter 1.2 million pigs each year. This is the Communist Party's solution to the people's insatiable demand for pork. 

 

The first few thousand unlucky sows were admitted to the farm - if we can still use this term - at the beginning of last month. When fully operational - and when a second building of equal size is finished - this pigsty in the sky will house around 650,000 animals, who will be monitored from a central control room and fed via 30,000 automatic feeding spots, operated at the click of a button. 

 

Temperature and ventilation will be controlled by an artificially-intelligent computer system. Waste material will be treated on site and used to generate energy in the form of biogas. Workers will be required to be screened for disease and subject to multiple rounds of disinfection before they can enter or leave the farm; not that they can leave apart from when taking a weekly break.

 

Supporters say this high-rise production model is cost efficient, biosecure, and environmentally-friendly, compared to traditional farming methods. They tend not to comment on the welfare of the poor pigs in such stressful and unnatural conditions. 

 

Critics, on the other hand, argue that large-scale intensive farms ultimately increase the likelihood of serious disease outbreaks - as well as increase the potential for infectious pathogen mutation, which just might cause us to get sick and die:

 

"China is not the only country facing challenges from emerging zoonotic diseases, but it has become clear that the country faces bureaucratic, societal and ecological factors that magnify them into global threats" [1].

 

Which is a sober note to end on - though one that might make any pigs dreaming of a way to extract a symbolic revenge upon a human order that treats them with such cruelty and contempt, squeal with delight [2].       

 

 

Notes

 

[1] I'm quoting from an article by Michael Standaert and Francesco De Augustinis, The Guardian (18 Sept 2020): click here.

 

[2] See the post entited 'Zoonosis: Revenge of the Animals' (19 Sept 2018): click here.

 

For an earlier post in which I write in praise of the pig, click here. 

Reflections on a Heron

Grey Dawn (SA/2022)

 

 "O melancholy bird on a winter's day ..."

 

 

As I've said before on this blog, those of a philosophical disposition have always appreciated that grey is the most beautiful of colours in all its neutrality; one which has long played an important role in fashion and art. Those who perceive only an absence of colour lack sophistication and subtlety [1]. 

 

Thus, whilst it's nice to wake-up to a sunny blue sky overhead, I wasn't displeased this morning to pull back the bedroom curtains and see a grey heron sitting on the roof of the house opposite against a grey sky. 

 

Surveying the world in all its stillness and silence, this elegant bird eventually flew off with slow, controlled wingbeats, its long legs trailing behind it, mosquito-like, and its long neck retracted into an S-shape; a creature from another time.  

 

Happily, herons are still quite common - even in the UK, one of the most nature-depleted nations on earth, having lost half of its wildlife and plant species since the Industrial Revolution - and, thanks to their inteligence, they can adapt fairly well to city life [2]. 

 

Hopefully, therefore, they'll be around for millions of years after mankind; just as they were around for millions of years before we evolved on the scene.     

 

 

Notes

 

[1] See the post 'Sing if You're Glad to be Grey' (16 Oct 2015): click here. 

 

[2] A large population of grey herons can be found living in Amsterdam, for example, and seem to be well-adjusted to urban life in the Dutch capital. See Julie Hrudover's photographic essay in The Guardian (5 June 2017): click here.

 

 

Name That Tune

Tom O'Connor and his two lovely assistants host another edition of 

Name That Tune (Thames Television, 1976-1988)

 

 

Question 1: Can you name the theme tune used for the American TV series created, hosted and produced by Alfred Hitchcock, which aired on CBS and NBC between 1955 and 1965?

 

Yes Tom, I can name that tune: it's a short piece by the 19th-century French composer Charles Gounod, known in English as Funeral March of a Marionette. 

 

The piece was originally written for piano in 1872 and then orchestrated in 1879, which is how we best know it, largely thanks to Hitchcock (and his long-time musical collaborator Bernard Herrmann, who suggested it to him and re-arranged the theme in 1964).

 

Tom Huizenga describes the action of Marche funèbre d'une marionnette thus:

 

"Frenetic strings depict dueling marionettes. A bold cymbal crash brings one of them to his death. A moment of doleful music slowly gives way to a surprisingly perky march, the main melody sung by the clarinet. The marionettes process with the corpse but the music turns almost cheerful. A few of the puppets, seemingly tired of tramping, duck into a tavern for refreshment. They fall back in line just before Gounod's march reaches its destination." [1] 

 

Prior to Hitchcock's adoption of the tune for his hugely popular TV series - which is still shown today - Gounod's piece was used to accompany several films in the late 1920s, including a silent short starring Laurel and Hardy (Habeas Corpus, 1928) and Harold Lloyd's first talkie, Welcome Danger (1929). 

 

It is believed that Hitchcock first heard it in the silent romantic drama directed by F. W. Murnau: Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927), one of the first feature films with a synchronized musical score and sound effects. 

 

Hitchcock loved the tune so much that he even selected it as one of his choices on the BBC radio show Desert Island Discs in 1959.

 

 

Question 2: Can you name the theme tune used for the American TV sitcom created by and starring Larry David, which has aired on HBO for 11 seasons, beginning in October 2000? [2]

 

Yes Tom, I can name that tune: it's a piece by the Italian composer Luciano Michelini, entitled Frolic, written for a little-known Italian movie La bellissima estate (1974).

 

Larry David first heard it, however, being used in a TV commercial for a bank and loved the lighthearted, comic quality of a mandolin played over a sola tuba's steady oompah-oompah. For David, the tune informs the audience not to take what happens in the show too seriously - it's intended to be funny [3].

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Curb signature tune has now become a popular online meme and used as background music in videos showing people in socially awkward situations or failing at some task in an embarrassing manner. Alas, the makers rarely have David's comic genius.  

 

Incidently, it might also be noted that Curb Your Enthusiasm has a rich and varied musical score, orchestrated by Wendell Yuponce; scenes are often punctuated, for example, with instrumental arrangements of songs from Gilbert and Sullivan's Mikado and Bizet's Carmen. 

 

Larry himself has even been known to whistle Wagner [click here] and enjoy singing songs from the Bernstein and Sondheim musical West Side Story [click here].

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Tom Huizenga, 'Marches Madness: Puppets and a Funeral' (5 March, 2013), on the NPR website: click here.

 

[2] The series was developed from a one-hour special - Larry David: Curb Your Enthusiasm - which was broadcast on 17 October, 1999. David and his producers at HBO originally envisioned it as a one-off mockumentary. 

[3] Click here to watch Larry being interviewed on stage (alongside other cast members), talking about the tune and why he likes it.

 

 

Click here to play the signature tune to Alfred Hitchcock Presents (Marche funèbre d'une marionnette, by Charles Gounod). 

 

Click here to play the signature tune to Curb Your Enthusiasm (Frolic, by Luciano Michelini). 

 

And click here for a special treat - the opening sequence and theme from a mid-1980s episode of Name That Tune, with Lionel Blair hosting (having replaced Tom O'Connor in 1984).

 

Readers with excellent memories will recall an earlier post from Feb 2013, in which I discuss some of my favourite theme tunes: click here. 

 

 

On the Laughter of Discarded Objects

Don't Be Deflated (SA/2022)

 From the Revenge of the Objects Series

 

 

It was bad enough when the clouds began to laugh and the trees stopped listening. 

 

But now even objects which have been thrown out as rubbish, or left lying about as litter, seem to be poking fun at us; as if they regard man as worthy only of scorn in his anthropocentric conceit ...

 

Gone are the days when, like madmen, drunk on the thought of our own exceptionalism, we were the ones laughing at all things beneath the sun - nettles, stones, ducks, etc.  

No Hugging, No Learning (Torpedo the Ark 10th Anniversary Post)

 

 

I. 

 

This post - post number 1977 - marks the 10th anniversary of Torpedo the Ark [1] and, fear not, there's no Elvis, Beatles or Rolling Stones putting in an appearance here [2]. Instead, I'd like to offer a few remarks on one of Larry David's guiding principles: No hugging, no learning ...

 

Over the past decade, this motto - pinned to the wall above my desk - is something I've always endeavoured to live up to whilst assembling posts for Torpedo the Ark: for if no hugging, no learning worked for Seinfeld during 180 episodes spread over nine seasons, why shouldn't it also help ensure that this blog maintains an edge ...?

 

 

II. 

 

To me, the first half of this phrase means avoiding the fall into lazy and cynical sentimentality in which one attempts to manipulate the stereotyped set of ideas and feelings which make us monstrous rather than human - or, rather, monstrously all too human [3].

 

Like D. H. Lawrence, I suspect that most expressions of emotion are counterfeit and more often than not betray our social conditioning and idealism, rather than arising spontaneously from the body:

 

"Today, many people live and die without having had any real feelings - though they have had a 'rich emotional life' apparently, having showed strong mental feeling. But it is all counterfeit." [4]

 

Today, when someone starts twittering on about their feelings or the importance of emotional growth, you should tell them to shut the fuck up. 

 

Likewise, when some idiot comes in for a hug - never a good idea, as this scene from Curb Your Enthusiasm makes clear [5] - best to push them away or, at the very least, step back and politely decline their embrace.     

 

 

III.

 

As for the second part of the Davidian phrase - no learning - I don't think this means stay stupid; rather, just as the first part of the phrase challenges the idea of emotional growth, this challenges the idea of moral progress; i.e., the belief that man is advancing as a species; becoming ever more enlightened and ever closer to reaching the Promised Land. 

 

At any rate, Torpedo the Ark has never attempted to give moral lessons, pass judgements, or improve its readership. There's plenty to think about and, hopefully, amuse on the blog - and lots of little images to look at - but, to paraphrase something Malcolm McLaren once told an infuriated tutor at art school: There's nothing to learn! [6]

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Torpedo the Ark was set up by Maria Thanassa, who has continued to oversee the technical aspects and daily management of the blog. The first post - Reflections on the Loss of UR6 - was published on 24 November 2012. 

      I am sometimes accused of being an anti-dentite on the basis of this poem, but, actually, that couldn't be further from the truth. If anything, having an attractive young female dentist veers one in the direction of odontophilia (a fetish that includes a surprisingly wide-range of passions).

      And so, whilst my tastes are not as singular as those of Sadean libertine Boniface, I cannot deny a certain frisson of excitement everytime one is in the chair, mouth wide open, and submitting to an intimate oral examination or violent surgical procedure. Hopefully, I expressed an element of this perverse eroticism in this post, based on an actual incident, but inspired by a reading of Georges Bataille.       

[2] Punk rockers will know that I'm alluding to the track '1977' by the Clash, which featured as the B-side to their first single, 'White Riot', released on CBS Records in March 1977. Click here to play.  

 

[3] Punk rockers will also know I'm thinking here of the Dead Kennedys track 'Your Emotions', found on their debut studio album, Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables, (Cherry Red Records, 1980). Click here to play and listen out for the marvellous line: "Your scars only show when someone talks to you."

 

[4] See D. H. Lawrence's late essay, A Propos of "Lady Chatterley's Lover", which can be found in Lady Chatterley's Lover and A Propos of 'Lady Chatterley's Lover', ed. Michael Squires, (Cambridge University Press, 1993), p. 311.

 

[5] This is a scene from the second episode of season four of Curb Your Enthusiasm. Entitled 'Vehicular Fellatio', it first aired on HBO in September 2009 and was written by Larry David, dir. by Alec Berg. The irritating character of Dean Weinstock is played by Wayne Federman. There are, as one might imagine, several other scenes in Curb that concern the consequences of inappropriate hugging; see, for example, this scene in episode 8 of season 6 ('The N-Word') and this scene in episode 10 of season 11 ('The Mormon Advantage'). 

 

[6] According to fellow art student Fred Vermorel, when a tutor snapped at Malcolm: 'You think you know everything', he was left speechless when the latter replied: 'There's nothing to know!' Arguably, this is going further even than Socrates. See Paul Gorman, The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren, (Constable, 2020), p. 53, where I read of this incident.  

      

In Memory of Imogen Hassall (the Countess of Cleavage)

Imogen Hassall (1942-1980) seen here as a sultry gypsy woman; 

a bikini-clad cave girl; and carrying on as Jenny Grubb   

 

I. 

 

Somewhat surprisingly for an actress who would become known in the 1960s and '70s for playing sexy, scantily clad characters in film and on TV - and who was referred to in the tabloid press as the Countess of Cleavage - the thing I admire most about Imogen Hassall is that although born in Woking, she had something a bit exotic about her - which probably explains why she was often cast as a foreign beauty in shows like The Saint and The Persuaders! [1].   

 

As much as her television work would make an interesting topic for discussion - as well as the above shows, she appeared also in episodes of The Avengers (1967), The Champions (1968), and Jason King (1972) [2] - it's three of her films, all released in 1970, that I wish to look at here ...

 

 

II. 

 

Let's start with an adaptation of a novella by D. H. Lawrence; The Virgin and the Gypsy (1970), dir. Christopher Miles and written by Alan Plater. 

Whilst Miss Hassall doesn't have a very large role in the film - and is credited simply as 'the Gypsy's Wife' - it's always nice to see her on screen, particularly when, as here, she's cheerfully perpetuating the racial and sexual stereotype of the dark-faced gipsy-woman, with a red shawl wrapped round her and swinging her flounced, voluminous skirt as she walks:

 

"She was handsome in a bold, dark, long-faced way, just a bit wolfish. She looked like one of the bold, loping Spanish gipsies" - and she spoke "with a certain foreign stiffness" [3].

The film remains fairly faithful to Lawrence's text; so much so, in fact, that Columbia Pictures, who were originally backing the movie, withdrew their support, leaving Miles and producer Kenneth Harper in something of a pickle (it took them two years to find alternative finance). 

 

It was well-received by film critics and cinema audience alike; indeed, it was even nominated for a Golden Globe and the stars of the film, Franco Nero (as the Gypsy) and Joanna Shimkus (as the Virgin) were praised for their performances. 

 

But when I watch it now, it's only to see Imogen reading palms with her cruel-seeming fingers; or nursing a baby with her lovely bare breast, its mole cinque-spotted; or telling Yvette to beware the voice of the water ... [4]

 

 

III.

I'd like next to offer a few brief remarks on the third in Hammer's prehistoric series - or cave girl flicks - When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth (1970) [5] ...

 

Written and directed by Val Guest, and co-starring Miss Hassal, as Ayak, alongside the American model and actress Victoria Vetri, as Sanna; both women demonstrating that it wasn't only Raquel Welch who knew how to rock a stone age bikini one million years BC (i.e., an age of unknown terrors, pagan worship and virgin sacrifice).

 

For those who like this kind of thing - and I'm one of them - this is the kind of thing we like. 

 

It's not Shakespeare, but it is a lot of fun and, interestingly, Val Guest's screenplay was based on a treatment by J. G. Ballard, who, in his 2008 autobiography, revealed that he too was a fan of Hammer films, which, he said, had "tremendous panache and visual attack, without a single wasted frame" [6]. 

 

And so, when contacted by the producer Aida Young - who informed him she was a great admirer of his work, particulary The Drowned World (1962) - Ballard was happy to meet up and share a few ideas; whether he suggested that Imogen's character - the jealous and scheming Ayak - should meet a diabolical end in a pit of quicksand, I don't know (but I doubt it). 

 

 

IV.

 

Finally, we come to the third film in our discussion; Carry On Loving (dir. Gerald Thomas, 1970) ...

 

This is probably nobody's favourite Carry On, but, actually, it's by no means the weakest in the long-running film series and has most of the familiar faces, as this trailer indicates: click here. 

 

However, it also has a couple of newcomers, one of whom is Imogen Hassall as prim and proper Jenny Grubb who transforms into something of a bombshell (much to the delight of the middle-aged Romeo looking for love played by Terry Scott). 

 

If, in a sense, she is simply filling in for Valerie Leon, Miss Hassall nevertheless puts in an excellent performance, as does Jackie Piper as her flatmate, Sally Martin - unknown star of stage, screen and television - appearing here in her second Carry On. 

 

As, by all accounts, Imogen was popular with both members of the cast and fans of the series, it's a surprise she didn't return in a later film. But there you go. Perhaps she didn't want to be typecast and had grown tired of always being the buxom brunette (she was clearly talented enough to play the more serious roles she craved).

 

Unfortunately, as her star began to wane and her personal life was increasingly marked by tragedy - including the death of a baby daughter four days after she was born in 1972 - Imogen did incline to sadness and was found dead at her Wimbledon home on the morning of November 16th, 1980: suicide by overdose.

 

She was, to paraphrase William Hazlitt, perhaps the most tender and most artless of all those young women who lit up the screens in the 1960s and '70s.  

     

Notes

 

[1] She played the Greek beauty (Sophia) in a 1964 episode of The Saint (for full details on IMDb, click here); and the Italian beauty (Maria) in the first episode of The Persuaders! in 1971 (for full details on IMDb, click here).

[2] See: The Avengers, 'Escape in Time' (S5/E3), in which she plays an Indian character named Anjali; The Champions, 'Reply Box No. 666' (S1/E3), in which she plays a character called Cleo; Jason King, 'The Stones of Venice' (S1/E20), in which she plays a character called Gina.   

[3] D. H. Lawrence, The Virgin and the Gipsy, in The Virgin and the Gipsy and Other Stories, ed. Michael Herbert, Berhan Jones and Lindeth Vasey, (Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 21. 

      I have written about the racial and sexual stereotyping of Romani women - and the trope of the Hot Gypsy Girl - elsewhere on Torpedo the Ark: click here. 

 

[4] These scenes from Christopher Miles's movie can be viewed on the Facebook page 'In Loving Memory of Imogen Hassal': click here. 

[5] In the UK the film was released as When Dinosaurs Ruled the World, but seems now to be known by the US title, even on the BFI website. To watch the original trailer, click here. And to watch a rather charming short interview with Imogen Hassall discussing the film, click here.    

[6] See J. G. Ballard, Miracles of Life, (Fourth Estate, 2008). 

      Ballard was also impressed with the fact that directors of the Hammer movies were "surprisingly free to push their obsessions to the limit".