Hour of the Wolf = Semiotic Despair

With the clarity of the insomniac I suddenly realize what this reminds me of: this of course being 'watching a foreign series in a language I don't know at all from a culture I don't know well with specific cultural references I've never heard of through the medium of curtailed and uninformative subtitles.' It reminds me of Lacan's dictum about women and language: "they don't know what they are saying." Sure, women can *talk*. but we don't comprehend the symbolic order of language so we don't know what our talk means; and yes, I can discuss and interpret what I see on the screen, but what I see is an unclear, distorted, and culturally deformed version of what's there.

One argues from ignorance, always. Argh.

( Nostalgia: Oncle Jacques makes the children's heads spin )