In light of this afternoon's discussion, I encourage those reading this to navigate to the YouTube link (above) where you will find a snippet from the 2001 film Believer. (If prospective philosophical deliberation is not incentive enough, perhaps Ryan Gosling as lead role will suffice--ladies, that means you.)
I call upon this film for multiple reasons, all of which revolve around it being a loose interpretation and contemporary take on today's readings. First, and perhaps of lesser import, is the not-so-obvious presence of all three of Camus' responses to absurdity--all tightly bound up, and subsequently unwound, in the film's terminally conflicted protagonist, Danny. From the outset (consider viewing the entire movie for full comprehension of the following references), Danny is seen rebelling--quite literally--against those who embody Camus' cosmological approach, namely those practicing Judaism. In this instance, though an unrealistically extreme analogy at best, the young neo-nazi assumes the position of what Camus terms "revolt", whereby renouncing the existence of a god. In time, Danny's true identity is disclosed as having been raised Jewish, implying his exposure to, and opportunity to consider, one of Camus' alternatives: acceptance of cosmic purpose. In the end, as seen in the included YouTube video, it is the clash between the previously mentioned responses to absurdity that forces our protagonist to invoke Camus' third and final option: suicide. Danny's character engages in all three of Camus' responses to absurdity at one point or another throughout the duration of the film, but it isn't until after his death (a negligible disparity between the film's delivery and the delivery of our reading selection) that we delve into a more literal representation of The Myth of Sisyphus. The conclusion of the film does a particularly lovely job getting at the piece's gist. Like the gods who made Sisyphus aware of his own hopeless efforts, Danny is also informed of the futility inherent to his punishment. I do, however, find it rather disconcerting that in Camus' account, we are left with no substantial rationale or tangible justification for imagining Sisyphus as happy, despite its thematic significance. In the film, however, we see Danny as though attempting to maintain his obliviousness of the futility of his efforts--a sort of means of coping with the meaninglessness of his ascension. How, then, are we to go about envisioning Sisyphus as happy when the story itself bears such negative connotation throughout and leaves us with no ways to consider otherwise?
Yours Tru.ly
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