‘An Impoverished Vocabulary’

Why words matter

My obsession with the French New Wave is not unknown to my readers.

There are many reasons why I study the films from French directors from the 1930s through the 1970s. Partially because I am a cinephile, and I have already worked my way through Hollywood’s Golden Age of Cinema, which I can recite chapter and verse. The dressmakers, the makeup artists, the lighting directors - the people who make the magic.

But what I love about the French is with little money and an exquisite imagination, they made films that upended the industry. The French directors love faces - not the kind of faces we are accustomed to - impractically ‘perfect’. I am talking about real faces - world weary, intelligent, special. Lino Ventura’s boxer mug, Jean-Paul Belmondo’s combo of ugly beauty, Paul Meurisse’s sexy hangdog. Yes, they gave us goddesses but for the most part, the actresses who populate the French New Wave were simply comfortable in their own skin. They offer an authenticity that the studio system simply cannot afford from American actresses.

But my real love for the French is borne out of the subject matter - a post-war gloom rife with paranoia and fatalism, where law enforcement is to be distrusted (Vichy, anyone?) and ‘gangsters’ are loyal to the cause.

Some of my favorite directors like Jean-Pierre Melville actually fought in the French Resistance so when he makes movies about The War, you can smell the grease on the Nazi boots as they goosestep in front of the Arc de Triomphe. They march in perfect beat to the military music, revealing an attention to detail that borders on maniacal.

Melville, who was Jewish, was not allowed a union card or entry into the business, so he built his own studio. Most directors couldn’t afford sound, so they shot their films without it and added it later. They hid cameras in baby strollers to get their shots. I could go on, but if you are still reading this, it is because words matter.

The words writers choose to illustrate their points matter.

‘Overtures’

Today, I slept in until 5:18 am - unusual for me on a Sunday. I had been to the symphony the night before to hear Beethoven’s 7th, and my favorite piece of music ever - Samuel Barber’s Concerto for Violin. I was honored to be present when a high school conductor made his debut conducting his first professional orchestra, choosing Mozart’s Overture to Don Giovanni. (Overtures were created to get the wilding audiences to pipe down back in the day). I sat behind the young Cuban-American conductor’s family, sucking back tears at witnessing how proud they were of their gifted son.

That the evening opened with two national anthems, American and Ukrainian, also melted my heart.

I cry easily these days.

Earlier in the day, I was standing in line for the bathroom at a cafe where I seem to meet everyone in queue for the loo, and I had the chance to thank Ron Perlman for the second time for using his platform to voice his politics.

I met him at a different restaurant four years ago on my birthday, and told him same.

I refrained from fangirling that he worked with some of my favorite French directors. Like I said, they like faces.

‘Of Dipshits and Mansplaining’

So at 5:18 this morning, I pop my head up, quickly say my gratitude prayers and jump on Twitter, and fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.

A dipshit thread of arrogant mansplaining about what words are inappropriate to use when fighting the fascist creep. That was the first thing I read and my heart sunk because I have cited this gentleman before. He is quite capable of brilliance.

I knee-jerk texted an ally way too early, ruining her Sunday morning, but was quickly course corrected.

“Save your energy for better things.”

So I tweeted a thread to remind everyone to save their energy for better things.

And then Dr. Ian Garner pwnd the internet:

“It's very, very important to spend the next ten years arguing if it's fascism or not. Heaven forbid we spend our time tackling the fascism.”

He should know. Dr. Garner is a member of the Bette community, and was a special guest at a recent ‘Speakeasy’ forum. He wrote the book: Z Generation: Into the Heart of Russia’s Fascist Youth, and if you haven’t read it, fast-track it to your must-read list.

As my readers know, I have been referring to the attempts to destroy liberal democracy by the authoritarian right as fascism since November 9, 2016, when I held a sign at my first post-election protest declaring “In the Name of Humanity, We Refuse To Accept a Fascist America.” I still don’t.

I’m sure it’s the German in me. Growing up with German parents, I knew what happened in World War II. I had studied it by the age of 10, with graphic books sent to me by relatives. The ravages of The War permeated my household.

Fascism never goes away. It may appear to sleep for awhile, but it’s always there, as the French films I watch remind me. Cabals of evil greedy racist f**ks, hiding behind their ill-gotten gains, never satiated. Never enough. It must be defeated, again and again.

‘Catchphrases for the Masses’

Thankfully, someone this morning reminded me of Umberto Eco’s 1995 essay, ‘Ur-Fascism’, which listed 14 early warning signs of fascism - among them, an impoverished vocabulary.

Build the wall.

Lock her up.

Witch hunt.

Fake news.

Catchphrases for the masses.

This morning RadPod interviewed a podcast team from the Czech Republic who warn their hundreds of thousands of listeners about the words from Russian and American traitors that are being used to wage cognitive warfare on people in Eastern Europe.

Democratic nations are being targeted with cognitive warfare.

The human mind is the battlefield.

In Jean-Luc Godard’s ‘Alphaville’ - people are controlled by a computer mainframe orchestrated by fascists not unlike Mercer and Putin.

Words have been disallowed from the language - words like poetry, love, empathy - and people are executed if they exhibit a conscience or feelings.

“Technical power and its triumph is the only act in their repertoire,” says Lemmy Caution, the journalist-spy who fights to free the people. “The truth is, the essence of man is love and faith.”

In the end, Lemmy Caution frees the people from techno-fascism, and they take their words back. Love is returned to the people.

Words are important.

Defend them at all cost.

****

Bette Dangerous is a reader-funded magazine. Thank you to all monthly, annual, and founding members. Thank you as well to all those who support my work with your generous coffee tips and who buy my ebooks. A private link to group activist discounts available upon request by emailing bettedangerous@gmail.com.

More info about Bette Dangerous - This magazine is written by Heidi Siegmund Cuda, an Emmy-award winning investigative reporter, author, and veteran music and nightlife columnist. She is the cohost of RADICALIZED Truth Survives, an investigative show about disinformation and is part of the Byline Media team. Thank you for your support of independent investigative journalism.

Save the date! The next Bette Dangerous ‘Speakeasy’ Zoom for paid members is Sunday, April 23, 4 pm PT, featuring ‘Pastels and Pedophiles - Inside the Mind of QAnon’ author Dr. Mia Bloom. Please consider becoming a paid member. I am running a Tax Break Special of 25% off an annual membership through tonight, April 16.❤️🤍💙

(Below, a still from the 1965 Jean-Luc Godard film, ‘Alphaville’, where Eddie Constantine as Lemmy Caution smashes the mainframe of a techno-fascist dictatorship, ensuring poetry is no longer a crime)