#the baby of macon
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Mother! (dir. Darren Aronofsky, 2017) / The Female Body and Religious Practice in the Later Middle Ages, Caroline Walker Bynum / The Baby of Mâcon (dir. Peter Greenaway, 1993)
#mine#my post#web weaving#mysticism#christianity#catholicism#gore tw#infant death tw#meat tw#mother 2017#darren aronofsky#caroline walker bynum#the baby of macon#peter greenaway
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The Baby of Mâcon (1993) Dir. Peter Greenaway
#the baby of macon#peter greenaway#julia ormond#ralph fiennes#philip stone#film#films#movie#movies#edit
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The Baby of Macon (1993), dir. Peter Greenaway
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ベイビー・オブ・マコン
CINEMA RISE No.47
ヘラルド・エース
監督：ピーター・グリーナウェイ／出演：ジュリア・オーモンド、レイフ・ファインズ、フィリップ・ストーン ほか
#the baby of macon#ベイビー・オブ・マコン#cinema rise#peter greenaway#ピーター・グリーナウェイ#julia ormond#ジュリア・オーモンド#ralph fiennes#レイフ・ファインズ#philip stone#フィリップ・ストーン#anamon#古本屋あなもん#あなもん#映画パンフレット#movie pamphlet
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The blurring of performance reinforced at the end of the play and film when the film's cast comes out to bow is reminiscent of Greenaway's own confusing roles as director, sadist, critic, and fetishist. The daughter (or actress--it is impossible to choose the proper name here), the Bishop's son and the bull are all wheeled out in carts--all seemingly dead. The baby is dismembered and only his head is present at the play's/film's end. These four are the casualties of the film--the bodies that are not recuperated through a final bow, who do not acknowledge that this is, after all, "just" a performance, "only a play," or "only a film." It is difficult to discern precisely who is deriving pleasure from Greenaway's often sadistic cinema, but perhaps what is ultimately being critiqued is the notion that the end goal of cinema is, in fact, pleasure. Though Laura Mulvey has approached this same subject matter in a radically different way, the fetishization of sexual violence can be understood as a means by which such a critique can be leveled. However, the risk of the critique becoming impossibly blurred with the uncritical fetish itself is almost inherent in such absurdist narrative. The care with which Greenaway and cinematographer Sacha Vierny photograph otherwise repulsive or unviewable scenes makes understanding Greenaway as a critic of sexual violence a rather difficult undertaking. The stunning beauty of the repulsive in a Greenaway film suggests that Greenaway takes pleasure in the act of forcing his audiences to see (or perhaps even more, to desire to see) that which would typically remain taboo, unseeable.
— Cinematic Violations in Peter Greenaway's The Baby of Mâcon, Marsha Gordon
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The Baby of Mâcon (1993)
Director: Peter Greenaway
Cinematographer: Sacha Vierny
Starring: Ralph Fiennes, Julia Ormond and Philip Stone
#the baby of macon#peter greenaway#classic film#british film#sacha vierny#ralph fiennes#julia ormond#cult film#historical drama#cosimo de medici#british cinema#90s films#90s movies#90s cinema#1993
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The Baby of Mâcon (1993) Dir. Peter Greenaway
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Lt. Alexander Jefferson✈️
Masters of the Air Part Nine
#alexander jefferson#alex jefferson#masters of the air#perioddramaedit#period drama#apple tv#appletvedit#hbowaredit#baby boy 🥰#branden cook#bngifs#bnedit#richard macon#robert daniels#john egan#diversehistorical#tuskegee airmen
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gestures vaguely other parts
#masters of the air#mota#gale buck cleven#john bucky egan#harry crosby#robert rosenthal#richard macon#baby face#chick harding#clegan#text post edit#john brady
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Buck and Bucky wedding would be pure chaos I'm just saying.
Bucky would walk down the aisle to 20th Century Fox Fanfare, because he's Bucky.
Hambone, and Douglass would do drunk karaoke.
Brady would be the one crying the entire time and I mean the entire time.
Blakely would be trying to sleep with the groomsmen.
DeMarco snuck Meatball in, who ate everything.
Rosie would have the best speech ever.
Crosby would have a drunk speech.
Bubbles would embarrassingly dance around, making everyone question who invited him.
Curt would be spilling all the embarrassing stories, he definitely knocked down either the wedding cake or ice sculpture or both well screaming "I'm Irish" at the top of his lungs.
Dickie is trying to clean up Curts mess.
Quinn lost BabyFace, and Bailey within five seconds somehow.
Winks and Ken are just filming the entire thing.
Kidd and Harding are just old man dancing together.
Helen is wondering why she came.
Sandra and Marge are also questioning why the fuck they came.
Murphy and Fredkin are literally the most chill ones, but Murphy eventually gets so drunk that he starts taking off his clothes.
Smokey is making sure nobody gives themselves alcohol poisoning, he ends up herding everyone home like drunk cattle.
Stormy is just embarrassed to know these people.
Daniels, Jefferson, and Macon were dragged to this shingdig by DeMarco who said "It'd be fun." And fun was one way to describe it.
#headcanon#masters of the air#john bucky egan#gale buck cleven#harry crosby#joseph bubbles payne#buck x bucky#curt biddick#richard snyder#howard hambone hamilton#james douglass#john brady#everett blakely#bernard demarco#meatball#rosie rosenthal#william quinn#baby face#Bailey#jack kidd#harding#Helen#Marge#Sandra#Smokey#stormy#alex jefferson#richard macon#robert daniels#frank murphy
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fallout new vegas girlie | alice s. macon
"being a courier isn't half bad, long as you don't get involved in a political war 'cause a checkered suit jackass and a poker chip"
#myocs*#oc: alice macon#i really liked this edit format and wanted to try it on another one of my girlies :-)#the baseball bat looks weird but i couldn't edit it well enough to fit in#but i also didn't care enough and still wanted it there asdasd#alice my number one baby oc forever love her smooch kiss hug
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2024 February 20
AM1054: Stars Form as Galaxies Collide
Image Credit: NASA, ESA, STScI; Processing: J. English (U. Manitoba); Science: M. Rodruck (Penn State U. & Randolph-Macon C.) et al.;
Text: Jayanne English (U. Manitoba).
Explanation: When galaxies collide, how many stars are born? For AM1054-325, featured here in a recently released image by the Hubble Space Telescope, the answer is millions. Instead of stars being destroyed as galaxy AM1054-325 and a nearby galaxy circle each other, their gravity and motion has ignited stellar creation. Star formation occurs rapidly in the gaseous debris stretching from AM1054-325’s yellowish body due to the other galaxy’s gravitational pull. Hydrogen gas surrounding newborn stars glows pink. Bright infant stars shine blue and cluster together in compact nurseries of thousands to millions of stars. AM1054-325 possesses over 100 of these intense-blue, dot-like star clusters, some appearing like a string of pearls. Analyzing ultraviolet light helped determine that most of these stars are less than 10 million years old: stellar babies. Many of these nurseries may grow up to be globular star clusters, while the bundle of young stars at the bottom tip may even detach and form a small galaxy.
∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap240220.html
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brief immediate mota finale thoughts
Literally every scene involving Rosie was gold. Not just because Nate Mann has consistently knocked it out of the park, but I think he's just had the most incredible arc. This whole series could have been about Rosie Rosenthal specifically and I think barely scratch the surface of how interesting and incredible this man was. Rosie's great character trait is his empathy and righteousness. There was a moment I found mildly chilling, which is where, after having witnessed the atrocities, Rosie gets a line that does step on that line where righteousness turns into zealotry and it's *understandable*, and it's a great counterpoint to Harry's worry about what the war has turned him into. Like, I feel that whole moment is quite ambiguous about where we all fall and tbh I adored it. The writing was great, the intimacy was great and Anthony Boyle and Nate Mann were just absolutely just showing us all how it's done. Both of those boys need accolades for this.
Buck/Bucky broke my heart over and over again. The return of the lucky deuce (that teary face)! Buck telling Bucky with his words that he was glad to have him there these years. Flying home. Austin Butler's face journey when he hears Bucky's voice over the radio. Same buddy, you should have seen me sitting here like CALLUM? I KNOW THOSE VOWELS. THAT'S CALLUM TURNER. You heard me the first time, Gale.
KENNY IN THE PLANE. LOVE THAT FOR ME. Raff Law's perfect little face of awe. I did actually like as well that he fixed up all these planes constantly as instruments of war, with every repair he made representative of danger, injury and death, and then he got to ride in one for the very first time and it's a mission of help. Ken has just been such a quiet joy of a presence throughout. I thought it was lovely to give him the moment with the kids at the end, listening to the radio too. This baby boy of the company was fully older brother. God. I think Ken Lemmons might be my favourite character of all. If I can ever get my hands on good quality vids, I'm making so many gifs. PLEASE GOD LET ME FIND THE BOOK ABOUT HIM.
I do think the Tuskegee airmen were short-changed, I was really hoping for some meatier stuff for them this episode. I understand why they weren't the focus - the focus is on exactly four characters - but I do think a few more scenes wouldn't have gone amiss. I adored the Jefferson/Cleven scene of last episode. Did love the quiet background Macon/DeMarco friendship though.
I mentioned Anthony Boyle earlier, but again, there was some fantastic Croz stuff here. His physicality has changed so much over the course of this show, it's so good.
There's no let up in the horror, but I think a really good blend of that and the catharsis and the celebration. MotA has suffered from pacing problems throughout, and a bit here too, but overall I thought it was balanced and the visual colour returning towards the end. Gorgeous.
If I was Gale Cleven's wife of 51 fucking years I'd be pissed as hell to not even be mentioned in his title card. Jesus Christ. It's fine to have that narrative in the show but I found it very disrespectful, like Marge was his one and only true love? There was room to acknowledge both loves.
#mota spoilers#i have many other thoughts but i also have to do some actual work today so#mota#masters of the air
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Hi! Can’t stop thinking about the teacher/school au for Woody/Brady, any hcs for them? And (if so) how would you fit Holly/Bucky into this? I kinda get English teacher vibes from Holly but idk
Thank you so much!! @karashawsblog and I have been talking about this, so there's definitely some headcanons and also incorporating Bucky (baseball coach, of course) and Holly (she's the school secretary who knows everyone's business). I already know Buck would be the physics teacher because he's smart like that. Alex teaches art, and Macon teaches math.
But I digress! You asked about Woody/Brady, so I'll put them below the cut!
Woody’s shop class has the most girls in it to date (an average of 5 per class of 20, but baby steps!)
Woody and Brady's students definitely notice that they have to do less work whenever one of them comes around to just hang out flirt in the classroom during a planning period
You know when teachers leave substitutes a list of "problem students"? Brady has that except it's a photo of Bucky with a 🚫 on it
"You kids know 'Blue Skies'?"
"Get out."
Rosie (everyone's favorite guidance counselor🖤) is on thin ice but he's mostly just groovin' by the door and then claps whenever the song's over
Woody and Brady bitch about PTA moms all the time, especially when it's their turn to help coordinate whatever school fundraiser (they hate bake sales the most)
Also when they chaperone school dances, Woody gets a little dressed up and Brady always asks her to dance at least once, even before they get together. It's super sweet
Brady’s Crash Wagon lives on except it’s in reference to how many student drivers have accidentally hit his car in the parking lot
This totally spiraled from one of my convos with Kara, but one day Brady will ask Woody to take a look at his car just so he has an excuse to talk with her an extra fifteen minutes in the teacher lot
Except there is something actually wrong with his car and she's like "How are you even driving this?"
She offers to fix it for him over the weekend, which thank god because car repairs are expensive and teacher salaries leave much to be desired
So she's at his place on a Saturday afternoon in a white, half-sweated through t-shirt and jeans and he's definitely about to act up when he walks out with a glass of water to check on her
"You can use my shower if you want"
The teacher's lounge is buzzing on Monday...
#while answering this i was lowkey thinking about that tweet that's like 'how come in bts fics they gotta include everyone'#'why's hoseok driving the bus' like am i getting into hoseok driving the bus territory here#oh well!#ask tag#ch: holly#ch: woody
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Curzio Malaparte is an author that I think everyone should read to get their ass rocked to hell but suggesting people to read him risks ruining friendships for life
#it's like with peter greenaway#should you watch the baby of macon? yes#would I ever directly recommend anyone to watch it? no#personal
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honoring my horrible and beautiful husband, ldl, on his birthday...
(and to offset the insane negatively being perpetuated) here's a snippet of doxology, my soon-to-be submission for @iwtvfanevents day 3: confession/penance prompt.
St. Augustine had seen Louis de Pointe du Lac for all he was.
It had been witness to his christening at only three months old, his parents choosing to ring in the New Year with a midnight ceremony for their firstborn, tears in their eyes as Father Dumaine had taken their baby in his arms and blessed him, welcomed him into St. Augustine’s safety.
It had been witness to Grace and Paul’s christenings as well, surrounding young Louis as he watched on with a curious gaze, had listened with his heart at the words Father Dumaine spoke, their impact seeping through his skin just like the warmth of his father’s hand on his shoulder.
It had been witness to his growing up, had been large and imposing as he hid behind his mother’s leg, had been familiar and sure as he had aged into the ‘big kids’ section of the CCD, had been proud and strong as he became an altar boy, had been silent and uncertain as he’d made eye contact with Jonah Macon and heat had pooled in his stomach, had been a source of anxiety and despair as Louis had come to realize he wasn’t how he was supposed to be.
His father’s funeral had been in St. Augustine, that cold body carted over after the wake. St. Augustine had watched on as Louis became a man, Louis’ momma cupping his cheek and telling him how much they needed him now.
Paul’s funeral had been in St. Augustine too. St. Augustine had watched as Louis had been hollowed out, left a husk of himself as his little brother’s body had been brought into its walls, a mockery of what would happen only hours later when he’d be entombed in the Pointe du Lac mausoleum; it had watched as his momma sent her disdain at him with her eyes, had spewed her venomous words with coldness that left him desperate to crawl into the casket alongside Paul.
And then --
And then Louis had died too, the scene of his murder St. Augustine's own pulpit, the likeness of Christ staring down as Louis’ blood was drained from his mortal body.
Then, like a miracle, St. Augustine had witnessed Louis being reborn, that hollowed-out husk filled and held by Lestat de Lioncourt, the man who had come into Louis’ life and turned it into something Louis couldn’t comprehend, had revitalized within him the very sin that had turned St. Augustine into a place of uncertainty in his youth.
They had desecrated St. Augustine’s nave that rainy night.
When Louis thought back on the blur that was 1911, May stood out as the most vivid month.
Grace’s wedding, Paul’s death and subsequent funeral, and --
If he thought about it hard enough, Louis could still smell the rain of that particular night, could feel its cold in his bones. The memory of the way his clothes clung to his skin, the way they had dried in the humidity of St. Augustine’s confessional booth, had become damp again with his sweat as he’d spoken in the walls of his childhood home-away-from-home about his immense failures, of his wish to die, all came to him in fitful dreams some mornings.
Louis could remember the way St. Augustine had looked with his new vampire eyes.
It had been as if he was seeing the church for the first time.
The marble pillars, the newly shined pews, the fading paint on the walls had all begun to live, the pulse of being thrumming around and behind them all, giving them a life that hadn’t existed before the end of Louis’ own.
The Christ figure’s eyes had seemed to follow him everywhere.
The barbaric destruction, the blood stains on the floor, the lifeless bodies of the priests Louis had known for most of his life, had held St. Augustine in an eerie silence, one that had only been faint for Louis as the drumming had been pounding away in his ears still.
And yet none of that -- nothing of St. Augustine, nothing of Christ himself -- had held such a hold over Louis’ memory a year later as the view of Lestat.
Radiant Lestat.
Lestat had taken all of Louis’ attention away from the church, from all the feelings the church and its history brought out of Louis, and had morphed and shaped the life Louis had lived within the walls into that singular moment.
St. Augustine had witnessed as Louis, then and there, chose the feelings of Lestat’s lips on his, the pleasure-pain of his teeth on Louis’ neck, over everything else.
For the remainder of 1911, Louis had fumbled his way through fledgling vampirism, had lived out a summer, fall, and winter in Lestat’s arms.
He had been too busy to think of St. Augustine, too busy to think of anything that wasn’t Lestat.
But as 1911 turned into 1912 and Grace rang the Rue Royale early spring with a tear-thick voice, telling Louis that she and Levi were going away for their anniversary -- they weren’t sure where yet -- because Grace couldn’t bear to stay in New Orleans and pretend to celebrate when Paul --
Paul had been dead a year.
So Louis had seen Grace and Levi the evening before they left, had kissed Grace’s cheek, and assured her that Paul would want her to celebrate her first anniversary. Then he had visited the Pointe du Lac mausoleum, telling Lestat not to wait up, that he’d be home later.
On the actual year anniversary, Louis de Pointe du Lac dreamed of the final sunrise he had ever seen, and in the dream, the pink and orange sky turned a garish, bloodish red and the sphere of the sun became Paul’s cracked skull and Louis had been filled with such a need to be closer to Paul that he had been almost dizzy with it, neglectful of all things as he attempted to figure out just what to do.
Just as it had been when he was younger, Louis had found that the answer he was seeking was somewhere in St. Augustine.
It had to be.
la fin
(for now)
#still feeling really down about my writing#weirdly has me writing more as if writing enough can practice away my mistakes#whatever#i saw 'radiant lestat' and thought it'd be fitting for his birthday#(even if this is for louis' birthday month)#my writing#spoiler: confessional sex
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