I just went outside to snag another chunk of firewood and couldn’t find it. Yes, it’s snowing again. Big flakes of powder, coming straight down like a freight train. Damn, that didn’t take long. A couple of hours ago, I was looking at the moon shining through the overcast.
That was just after watching a remarkable film about the French ocean liner Normandie on KNME, the New Mexico PBS outlet out of Albuquerque. What made it special was that it was shot in color in late August, 1939, on the occasion of what would prove to be the Normandie’s last voyage. Shortly after the immense luxury ship arrived at the 88th Street pier in Manhattan, Hitler invaded Poland, and the war was on. One thing led to another. The U.S. Navy took possession in 1941 or so to turn her into a troop carrier, but the grand vessel eventually succumbed to a stray spark from a welder’s torch and burned up at her mooring. A sad tale, all the way around.
The movie itself was extraordinarily illuminating. I sat riveted for 50 minutes and couldn’t believe my eyes. The shots of Manhattan at the end — in full color, remember — were astonishing: clean streets, happy people, beautiful automobiles, not a trace of fear and hardly any tension. There were people eating five cent frankfurters, unsupervised kids splashing in park fountains, no “security” at dockside, either. I know, there had to be a seamy side that wasn’t shown, but you would never capture images like that today. Not the mood, certainly. I thought I was watching science-fiction. The lengthy footage from on board the 1,050-foot-long ship itself was even better, though.
Oh, it was opulent inside, all right. Outrageously so. But that part didn’t move me. What did was that the outdoor activities were so natural and humane. I watched the people sitting in their deck chairs in the sun: they were reading, talking to their neighbors, or just…sitting in the sun. No boomboxes thumping, no cell phones ringing. No loners lost inside their laptops, no bored half-naked nubiles with iPods getting in the way. Some people played games or swam in open-air pools. Others simply watched the gulls or walked around the decks. You could even shoot clay pigeons or read the ship’s daily newspaper, printed right there on board. There was a newsstand with magazines from all over the world. I’ll bet the passengers had real fruits and vegetables to eat. Even the ocean looked clean. It was all so inviting, I could hardly stand it. Afterwards, though, I felt like I’d been all smoothed out with a heavy dose of truth.
It isn’t really “better” now, it’s only different.
We’ve all been lied to by black & white. When you see these scenes in color, you feel it right away. The sky is blue, the trees are green, the people are fresh and smart and sexy. They had a life, and it was decent. MORE than decent. Whether they took advantage of it or not, those people lying in the sun that August on the deck of the Normandie had more open psychic space between their ears than most of us can boast. It had to have been so. No electronic interruptions! A more gentle, simpler electromagnetic sphere, perhaps. There was something going on that we don’t have. Granted, this was just before the war, but you can see it in their faces.
(Dear Goddess, what have we done?)
Related posts:
