No author has described fascination better than Proust. The young protagonist of the first parts of In remembrance of things past is characterized by his numerous obsessions. Different persons function as the objects of his interest, but they are all present in his mind in a way resembling works of art rather than real, concrete human beings. The parallel between art and adoration is also made explicit in the book in a way that conveys irony, self-consciousness and self-blindness at the same time. Ambiguity is ever-present in Proust's novel.
The protagonist's adororation oscillates between obsession and contempt. In countless passages he ruminates about the possible scenarios of meeting the adored person (Mme. Swann/Albertine/Elstir): he reflects on what his reactions will be, and he is also trying to prepare for how the other will perceive him. Preceding reflection is contrasted with the harsh reality of the encounter. The qualities bestowed on the beloved wane by and by, as adoration is transformed into disappointment and contempt. The point is of course not that his pure love aims too high, that reality cannot answer to his high expectations. The problem is, it is revealed, all about having ideals, expectations, trying to mould persons into one's own picture of reality.
"What a fascinating life!" All cheesy documentaries (books, TV, film) stem from an exploitation of fascination. And I suppose fascination in itself expresses an exploitative relation to something. The objective of these types of documentaries is to present a person's life as grand, exciting, full of unexpected twists and turns. Despite variations in tone and emphasis, they all appeal to a sense of aesthetic appreciation of life as a narrative with a plot and characters. Read any documentary about a sports hero, a rock star or a politician, and I am sure you will know what I mean. As a kid I read tons of books about the Beatles. What was it that kept me interested? A familiar story, to which new details are added. A historical background, oddities, extravaganza. The pleasure of having it all revealed, exposed.
"Last Days", Gus van Sant's film with a protagonist in many respects reminiscent of Kurt Cobain, goes against the grain of the genre of "pseudo-documentary". The movie does not gorge in spectacular debauchery, it doesn't even put forward a narrative in the traditional sense. Instead, the film invokes the mundane, the ordinary, the slow pace of everyday life. Walking, driving a car, sitting. Listening to stupid door-to-door salespersons. In a beautiful way, it resists the temptation of grabbing onto the familiar details which we suppose "are the central ones". The association of Kurt Cobain is not so important. Derek Jarman did the same thing in his film about Wittgenstein. It's a great film, placing the viewer in the Jarman universe. From what I've heard about the new film about Bob Dylan, it, too, breaks many conventions marring films about "famous people".
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