1967 Directed by Martin Scorsese
A man walks into a meticulously clean and sterile bathroom and proceeds to shave. When his face is clean, however, he only continues to shave until he pierces through his skin. Blood covers him and falls around him, the red contrasting the perfect spotlessness of the bathroom.
Viet '67
Dear Diary,
Today I showed The Big Shave as part of a presentation on Scorsese, to demonstrate the early emergence of stylistic and visceral tendencies in his direction. A grown man shrieked a bit. Twice. It was the best day ever.
Five minutes of Vietnam commentary screamed through the emphatic power of static imagery. Nobody but Scorsese could take an exercise as mundane as shaving and inject it with all the wince-worthy dread of the Psycho shower sequence. By this point, there’s absolutely no doubting what this man was inevitably to become. Simply masterful.
A very illustrative short film from Martin Scorsese referencing the most important socio-political elements of the Vietnam War portrayed in a simple way: a man who shaves and cuts himself in a white, clean bathroom. Great start for Scorsese.
The American society self-mutilating itself is something we still see today.
83/100
You know how I got these scars?
MY FATHER was a filmmaker...
HE LOVED HANEKE’S FUNNY GAMES.
He put a knife against my face, and said, “Let’s put a smile on that face!”
This short film is great, but this is just a message to say I'm planning to cut off all my hair on Twitter in 40 mins. if you're around and want to watch it.
YouTube-Tage die Neunte (9/2)
Meine Gedanken, sie driften ab. Ich rasiere mich und sie lösen sich von meinem Ich-Bewusstsein. Von meinem Gegenwarts-Bewusstsein. Meinem zurückgeworfenen, als solches wahrnehmenden Ich im Spiegel.
Schäume meine kratzigen Wangen ein. Fahre sie hinab zu meinem Kinn. Umrande meinen Mund, drücke meine fleischigen, roten Lippen daraus heraus. Mache aus einem Mann in den Dreißigern einen weißbärtigen Großvater. Den Weihnachtsmann dicker, bärtiger Wangen.
Rasiere mich. Schneide meine Gesichtshaare, ein borstiges Stachelschwein was seine Behaarung verliert. Kappe Stränge. Reiße Wurzeln aus ihrem Beet. Dringe in die fleischige, elastische Erdkruste des Menschen vor.
Und ich schäume mich ein. Beginne mit den Wangen, ende mit dem Hals. Leg den Rasierer an den Kotletten an. Fahre meine Hand nach unten und…
