Mega Therion Superstar

Finally, a movie about our beloved Master Therion!

I got to know about this movie about Aleister Crowley through the Wild Hunt blog, and initially I thought it is an autobiography about the Mega Therion, but later I found out that the story sets in present day Cambridge, about a modern day reincarnation of the Beast wrecking havoc, flirting pretty girls and conducting bloody sacrifice.

From the sypnosis, it seems that our Master Therion is portrayed as the most wicked man in the world, a black magician who performed unspeakable Satanic rituals. Though not a flattering portrait of the founder of Thelema, I can imagine that no Thelemite would bother to bomb the theaters and yell "Death to the infidels who dared to insult our prophet!" Perhaps Mr. Ankh-af-na-Khonsu himself would feel amused by this movie.

I have no idea if there is any chance to see this movie screening in our local theaters, but I do hope at least I can get the DVD.

The trailer gives me the impression that this movie is actually more comical than horror, and there are actually a lot of occult puns here and there, like z93 or Dr. Mathers (this made me chuckled) , kind of reminding me the Ghostbuster's episode on Cthulhu.

The reviewers' responses are mixed. LAShTAL.com praised the movies as "an amusing romp, an effective fundamentally English comedy", but Den of Geek is less than approval, " it just feels like it was shot from an unpolished first draft", but all critics agree that Simon Callow did an astonishing job portraying his role.

Though I am very interested to watch this movie, I think a more complex, authentic portray of the life of the Beast would be much more interesting.

Reading Sontag's On Photography

© Photographed by A. Kev

"Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato's cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth."

- Susan Sontag, On Photography

A.Kev, the person who took my photos posted in this and proceeding postings, must be one of the most sophisticated, most intelligent and most inspiring individuals I'd ever met, and he is one of the renowned photographers in this country.

I'd tried to read an introductory book of photography criticism (completed with some photos by Richard Avedon and other photographers that remain obscure to me), but soon put off by its uninspiring tone. Kev eventually recommended me Susan Sontag's On Photography, "a book on photography without a single photo", he said.

I found a copy of the book (Picador edition) in Pavilion's Times Bookstore, but haven't really start to read it until yesterday.

I am only starting to read the book, so nothing much is to be said at the moment, but so far in her cold, unpretentious writing, with a certain sang froid, I find it thought provoking and inspiring enough.

I am always interested in what photography is. Is it a partial (mis)representation of our perceived reality? Or is it the ape of this reality? Questions linger as I muse about the photos of my own corporeal form.

Il nome della rosa

© Photographed by A. Kev

It seems that there are always books waiting to be read. I'd just finished Michael D. Coe's Angkor (a very comprehensive book on Angkor written by a renown Mayanist) , Elaine Pagels' excellent The Gnostic Gospels and nearly finished Israel Regardie's marvelous A Garden of Pomegranates. There are still piles of English, Chinese and French books left unread, and yet yesterday in Kinokuniya I failed to resist buying Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose.

Originally I was thinking to buy Eco's Kant and the Platypus, but later I changed my mine and bought his The Name of the Rose instead (Vintage Classics edition, which is slightly cheaper than the Harvest Books edition). Actually, I already bought Eco's The Island of the Day Before, but only read a few pages of the book, and I know that I will certainly read his Foucault's Pendulum before moving back to The Island of the Day Before.

I love to read my favorite books while in a cozy environment, so this afternoon I brought a beg full of books to the nearest comfy coffeehouse . So, I sipped a glass of hot chai and enjoyed reading the books, a real indulgence. I managed to finish reading Anita Diamant's beautiful, moving The Red Tent, flipping through a few pages of Wheelock's Latin, another few pages of The Golden Dawn Journal : Book 1, Susan Sontag's On Photography, and not to forget Eco's The Name of the Rose. I decide that I love The Name of the Rose. And perhaps, it would be good to explore the world of semiotics as I read this book?

Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus ...