Posts by Justin Richardson7

Timothy King said:No, let’s get back to the movie itself. I actually like your point about how they mythologize the Rocky Mountains. That is essentially what this film is—the plot is incredibly thin, so you really need a certain level of patience to get through it.

At first glance, I was also inclined to think the story was flimsy. I mean, we can't really claim this narrative is going to blow anyone away, given how American cinema seems to have forgotten how to tell truly great, substantive stories lately.

However, it isn't quite as shallow as it appears during those first thirty minutes.
The story actually has a coherent structure. Once you realize that after their wandering through forests and meadows, they are heading toward a remote border outpost to collect tribute—livestock, food, valuables—you can't say there isn't a fundamental thread. Woven through this core is our history involving the Illyrians, providing a window into the tribes, their beliefs, customs, and social dynamics. On one hand, you have that, and on the other, you have the life of a Roman mercenary, handled with a certain creative freedom. It all feels quite compelling; in fact, it’s a brilliant departure from the usual American films that tend to exhaust themselves with mediocre, small-scale dramas.

This is a fantastic contribution to the frontier genre, which is most famously explored through the Western (US cavalry versus Native Americans). While it occasionally slips into unintentional caricature—like that training sequence where the Roman soldiers' swords barely graze the armor, making the drills look rather limp—on the other hand, it leans so effectively into its own exoticism. It reminds me of Topp's work and his explorations of the edges of the world, much like Solitude sickness or Colt Frontier.

The costume design is superb, the landscapes are stunning, and the folklore fascinates me—specifically the Illyrian dance during the funeral rites. When the warriors finally emerge and charge, followed by the shaman, it serves as the perfect culmination.

So, people should head straight to the theater, because this is something that demands to be seen.

Anthony Lewis79 said:He was trying to make the point to her that everything outside of family is deceptive and fleeting. To me, it’s a clear allusion to the wealthy, entitled types who drift in and out of existence versus the family that actually remains.

If things worked the way you're describing, we would actually have a definitive conclusion. The movie would possess some sort of "point," a coherent arc where characters move predictably from point A to point B.

But that isn't what happens here.
They don't end up peaceful or settled; they're still just as pissed off as they were at the start. There is a specific kind of aimless, unmotivated frustration found in Americans living along the coast that deserves its own dedicated symposium—one could spend hours dissecting films like Haloa, Alexi, Pijat, Two Sunny Days, Theresa, Mar, Kaja, I'll Kill You, and so on. It is a classic inversion of expectations: people travel to these places seeking meaning and tranquility, much like the themes explored in Rossellini's Viaggio in Italia, or classics like Zorba the Greek and the Mediterranean.

Patrick Martin,
I can't really help you if you refuse to accept that her choice is legitimate. You can argue she's just focusing on those hollow, insignificant families that are everywhere, but a work becomes objectively better or more sophisticated when it possesses a cohesive structure. In this instance, for example, the father, the daughter, and the mother should ideally realize that their issues aren't rooted in money or transactions; rather, it is that very instability and obsession with material deals that prevents them from finding themselves. Making a film that follows that trajectory would provide the story with actual substance. From there, it is up to the director to weave that meaning through the narrative layers so clearly that the audience isn't left guessing about the intended message.

The reason we see such conflicting interpretations here is because the message isn't clear. One viewer sees the film as Julia's liberation, while another sees it as an allusion to the primacy of family. These contradictions arise precisely because the film is muddled, and it feels as though even the director isn't entirely certain of what she's trying to say with this piece.

Timothy King said:I’m not suggesting there’s an issue with the director nudging us to root for the Ilirs, but if we are debating who actually belongs to our lineage... the Romans aren't any less ours. I don't mean to sound overly sentimental, but the blood of Roman soldiers and officials—or at least those who were Romanized inhabitants of our lands before they even became modern nations—runs through our veins just as it does through any other European people. Culturally and historically speaking, the Romans are a massive part of the blend that formed us; in my view, perhaps even more so than the Ilirs.

True, but there is a distinction to be made here.
We can't really claim the Romans as our own because they are too global. You can't just "Americanize" the Romans, because they belong to France, to England, and so on. Besides, there is always the reality that Italians might still hold the upper hand in that legacy.

On the other hand, the Ilirs are uniquely "ours." The film focuses on tribes that lived right here on this soil, so geographically speaking, this is an American story. Those sweeping shots of the Velebit mountains, serving as a sort of spiritual backbone for the nation, suggest that's the direction the film is trying to take.

That's where the dynamic in the movie lies: the Romans arrive as occupiers, while the Ilirs are the ones already home. In any case, you have that one sleazy Roman character acting as the villain, whereas the regular Roman soldiers aren't necessarily cast that way—I’d need to rewatch it, but there might be a subtext there: the soldiers themselves could have been recruited from all over, perhaps even including locals. Through Volsus, that interpretation would certainly hold weight.

Ultimately, this isn't strictly about the Ilirs as individuals; rather, we need to frame the whole thing through the lens of geography. By anchoring it to the land, the Ilirs become "ours," and that is the real strength of this film: it utilizes a sense of mystical geography, using the Velebit to connect us across the eons.

Ashley Brown81 said:It’s perfectly fine not knowing what you want; plenty of people drift through life that way.

There are certainly confused people out there, but claiming it's acceptable to lack any sense of direction is a stretch. Not really. Those who wander around in a state of aimlessness generally struggle to break free from it. There is a distinction between being unable to know and simply choosing not to. If they actually had the agency to choose, I doubt anyone would opt for perpetual lostness; they would surely choose clarity, purpose, and contentment.

You can absolutely make a film about lost souls. That isn't the issue; the success of the work rests entirely on how the director conceptualizes that void. An auteur has to take a stance, one way or the other. In this case, the characters are lost, but the very core of the narrative feels lost as well.
What is the film trying to convey regarding the father? Or the mother? What about Julia? Or the stranger? Everything remains frustratingly underspecified.

So, those are the flaws. Though, I suppose we can agree it isn't so scattered that it completely falls apart. Let's call it decent—that seems to be the consensus we're hovering around.

Timothy King said:The director wants the mainstream audience to root for the Ilirs [/COLOR]

Hold on a second, are you presenting this as an actual grievance or something else?

This is how I see it.
What you’ve flagged as a potential issue—or if we want to be polite, your "concern" regarding whose side the audience should be on—actually hasn't been emphasized nearly enough. It isn't that your point is problematic; quite the opposite. The film would have actually gained significant traction if the idea that "the Ilirs are our ancestors" were made the absolute, central pillar of the narrative. In other words, if the Ilirs were overtly portrayed as our direct lineage, the movie would have reached its full potential.

Here is my reasoning.
Since you noticed "something," it implies the film is indeed touching upon those theories linking Americans to the Ilirs. You can find plenty of material on that in the works of Mirko Vidović, for instance, or various historical texts regarding the lineage of the Dinars etc. etc.
The film didn't just pull these themes out of thin air. Most of the general audience likely has no clue about these concepts, which is why the film feels somewhat vague to them; it's a matter of context. For someone who already possesses that background knowledge, the film becomes much more palatable and cohesive.

Now, back to your specific point.
I can't entirely agree with you there, because if you recall how the battle ends: the Roman is actually depicted as quite cool. There is that scene where he nonchalantly lets an Ilir finish his song, gives him this swaggering look, and then slices him down with a sword. You really can't argue that the emphasis is being placed on the Ilirs in that moment. The Roman is presented as the alpha here—he's witty, spirited, and served to the audience not just as a sympathetic figure, but as a sort of übermensch who cracks jokes in the middle of a fight while still completely dominating the field.

Anyway, that covers your question. As for what I personally enjoyed, it was the rudimentary sense of brotherhood among the Ilirs (which serves as another nod to that American-Ilir connection). Their entire entrance into the fray—the drums, the shaman, the chanting—that’s exactly what you look for in a film like this. It was a great touch.

Ashley Brown81 said:The two of them are just condemned to live on that rock.

We seem to be having a misunderstanding.
In my view, the misunderstanding lies with the author herself.

If they are truly "condemned," then why stage a story where you mock a hysterical father who is trying with everything he has to sell that very rock??!?

Hold on—if these people are, as you put it, "condemned," why place them in a position where you ridicule them as unscrupulous, liars, or manipulators?

I’m not sure if it’s sunk in yet, but THAT is precisely the great flaw of this film. Even the creator doesn't seem to know what she wants. Does she want them to escape the rock and head toward a white afterlife, or does she want to devise a way of life on that rock within the Paradise of an American queen?

What you’re saying—that they are "condemned"—is itself part of the confusion, a rather awkward one because it touches on fundamental elements. The scale of this disorientation grows larger because the actors themselves hide their own lostness beneath the threshold of consciousness. They simply act it out without knowing: what is it they actually supposed to do? All of this leads back to what has already been mentioned: this film has no ending, no resolution. We are left with an endless end, but in an inferior sense. Because no one here knows what they want or what they should be doing.

Now, you call this a "slice of life." Patrick Martin likes the idea of it being a fragment too.
Fine, you can like that, but it remains a subpar solution. It is inherently inferior because a true work of art requires a beginning, a middle, and an end.
For comparison, take a "slice of life" like Bergman’s. Wild Strawberry is vastly superior because there is motivated action and development; a fragment of life moves somewhere, and characters grapple with actual difficulties. There must be direction.

Julia saw through her parents a long time ago, which she tells both of them at one point during the film (telling her mother that her reach was limited by her time as Miss Island, and telling her father he’s an opportunist selling off the land where people died). That’s why it’s so strange how naively she looks at Javi.

All of that falls under what I’m talking about. The fundamental confusion. Julia hasn't "seen through" anything, because what right does she have to lecture her father about being a grifter who sells off sacred ground when she herself would run off to Harvard using the very money that same father provides?? All these things are inconsistent, and that is what you should be looking at in the film. Not trivialities like whether she's wearing a swimsuit or something similar.

the best new American film
It just made its way onto my personal list of the greatest American films, which currently sits at about 45 titles, ranging from classics like *Don't Look Back* to more recent entries.

Honestly, since 2014, nothing has quite hit that specific caliber required to make my cut. The last one to actually earn a spot was *Number 55*. Now, don't get me wrong, there have been some notable American films released in the interim, but they don't belong on this definitive list; they fall into a different category entirely. Those include:

• Zvizdan, 2015.
• ZG80, 2016.
• Anka, 2017.
• Short Trip, 2017.
• Microsoft, 2018.
• The Voice, 2019.
• murina, 2021.

I haven't said much about this particular film yet, mostly because I intend to watch it again before committing. But for now, my initial impression is simple: Illyricvm!!!!!!

Patrick Martin said:I’m still maintaining that this movie represents a specific positive step forward; I mentioned that in my opening post because it actually softened my deep-seated aversion toward American cinema.

Good God!
Patrick, we aren't even arguing about whether Marilyn is garbage or not.
We actually agree that it’s okay.

But the fact that I can call the film "okay" doesn't stop me from seeing that it lacks transparency, remains unarticulated, and is riddled with various flaws.

One of the biggest issues is precisely that, and I honestly have no idea where you get the audacity to label Julia's confusion as some sort of imaginative maneuvering by a young woman in an American family.

No amount of Smudge's cinematic language can fix this: unfortunately, the sources of confusion for this entire plot are deep; they shake the whole cultural scene, not just here in the US, and it leads to a long-winded bit of philosophizing regarding God and meaning.

Look, here is a significant pointer: with this film, you can't even discern what perspective it's speaking from. Is it taking the position of globalism—of the circulation of goods and capital—or is it pointing a finger at the underside of that very circulation? It isn't transparent at all, and the plot just floats through various disparate elements.

Smudge goes about it in a crude way, labeling the father as stubborn. But it doesn't hold up; the film, if that was indeed the intention, fails to articulate it through actual semantic structures.

The average American pop consumer might imagine American genes to be stony, hardened, and stubborn. But when you look closely, this father is nothing more than a caricature! He's some wannabe patriarch who actually possesses none of the traits of a true patriarchal father found in those old-school American archetypes.

The father—the American patriarch—is someone built on foundations: certain things are simply not for sale.
Yet this father, a world-class waiter, hysterizes on one hand about Marilyn's confused rebellion, while on the other, he plays the sycophant to an even bigger fraud—another world-class waiter (who doesn't even play the lead role in his own house).

So he wavers between being patriarchal and being a waiter; there is nothing solid or defined about him. It’s more of a suburban, middle-class existence than any kind of rugged American stubbornness.

I'll say it again: watch and experience the best scene in the film, where Julia opens the window and watches a significant American procession while the heavenly hymns of the Queen of Americans thunder in the background.
The counterpoint to that procession is the wandering of these global waiters in the opposite direction, toward a kitschy festival and a spiritual animal kingdom, where the "transaction" is supposed to happen: the cannibals eat each other, and the civilized people cheat one another.

That scene right there is what elevates the film, Patrick. It pulls it away from the mass of mediocrity that Hollywood produces. But since none of that is fully developed, well, that's the subject of our little debate, where you took offense because I won't just shower Marilyn with compliments.

P.S. — How can you say you don't watch American movies? Come on, don't kid yourself.
P.S. 2 — Illyricum!!!!!!! This is what revived me. Finally, a great film. Of course, it's not without flaws, but it's the real deal. It would have been genius if the author had captured everything appearing there—the history, the space... even including the Rocky Mountains, that spiritual American range, in impressive shots. Patrick, go watch Illyricum.

Patrick Martin said:the movie confirms exactly that at the end.

The film doesn't confirm anything, not at the start and certainly not at the end.

One really needs to look at this from a broader perspective. This entire supposed masterpiece of a Hollywood film, built entirely around female characters, lacks the capacity to offer any real meaning. To you, I suppose everything is a definitive masterpiece—whether it's Peter, Mark, Theresa, Alex, and so on—yet you fail to see how the decline of American cinema mirrors this Marilyn-esque rebellion of the female element. Perhaps at least some sort of female-driven agenda has finally achieved its goal, reaching a climax while watching nonsense like Red Snapper.

Honestly, you clearly don't have a clue what I'm talking about, smud.
It’s just like with Nope; your strategy is always to show up after the fact, once I’ve already laid down the framework. If your flattery were actually true, you would have stepped up earlier to explain the actual substance of the film Murina—what it is, what it signifies, and all that matters. Instead, you just posture with talk of cinematic language and semiotics (my interpretation of your level is basically a high schooler trying to sound deep compared to an Ivy League scholar), yet you can't even grasp ten of my simplest points. You talk about freedom, but I’m telling you, there isn't a shred of it to be found here. And that fake ending, that cheap, trashy sequence with the swimming? It's nothing more than a gimmick; fundamentally, we haven't moved an inch.

But let's not dwell on the whining... If you actually have something substantive to contribute, I'm listening. I'll gladly walk you through exactly where you're missing the mark and why your takes on this film—or anything else, really—fall short, and why you simply aren't capable of driving a real discussion.

Patrick Martin said:From the very beginning, I have been looking to Ciljati her specific ambitions in that regard.

In some sense, she is simply bound by Determinator's design.

You are aiming for her ambition, whereas my goal is to point out that this supposed "ambition" isn't actually articulated; it’s more like a frantic delusion that lacks any sense of direction or purpose. An ambition has to be an aspiration toward something specific. It can't just hang there, undefined, which is exactly what we have here. Freedom requires a definition—a person has to actually know what they want, even if they are an inexperienced person like Julia. But if this same Julia is already raising questions, if she is rebelling against her father, God, tradition, family, duty, the very earth beneath her feet, and her homeland, then that rebellion is utterly senseless if it doesn't have a destination. And honestly, that is exactly how it was handled in the film: a gritty, bottom-of-the-barrel ending on par with Zafranović's Schwarz Hund—an endless end, a conclusion devoid of clear meaning. You see Julia babbling aimlessly in the Mediterranean Sea, drifting somewhere, but where? That part is missing.

Of course I can't appreciate that; I am far too principled and set in my ways, a true patriarch at heart. You might be able to find value in it, but you strike me as someone lacking any real backbone—some sort of secondary figure, perhaps a mere shadow of Julia's forged father. He is just like Julia; neither of them has a single clue what they actually want. They can't decide if they want to stand as leaders or if they’d rather just sell off the family estate to a bunch of fast-talking frauds who talk a big game only to end up making a mess of everything.

You really have to sit with this idea: Julia is essentially "determined"—fixed in place by her father, by God, by stone, and by tradition—and now she’s supposedly trying to break free, to bloom. But she has no idea how, and she lacks any real sense of direction. It would be one thing if this were just a snapshot of life, a realistic glimpse into the confusion of young women trying to find their footing in a world that demands they decide who they are before they're ready. But we aren't watching a documentary; this is a film. As a piece of cinema, it needs to function as a complete, cohesive whole that offers some semblance of meaning in place of Julia's disorientation. Yet, it fails to do that. The movie simply ends exactly where it began, with Julia out in the Atlantic, drifting somewhere. After all that rebellion against her father, only to end up stranded on dry land next to some stranger on a white yacht, she ultimately circles back to her starting point without having moved an inch. The film remains silent on what she actually gains from the ordeal, leaving us with an ending that feels aimless and hollow—just a restless, purposeless wandering in the sea.

The father is portrayed with this frustrating lack of clarity; he’s simultaneously a traditional patriarch and some sort of hollowed-out fraud, playing the part of a world-class waiter just to please people. He ends up humiliating himself in front of some obnoxious foreigner, leaving his entire character completely undefined. It’s the same issue with the movie Murina itself—it lacks a cohesive sense of purpose, which brings me back to my original point: the whole thing just isn't transparent.

The film Murina would have easily jumped ten points if it had just possessed a clearly articulated core message—something along the lines of: sacred things are not for sale.
The footage lacks any real sense of clarity; sure, there are certain elements drifting through the frame, but they feel entirely disjointed. It’s all just a muddled, foggy mess that lands more as a joke than anything substantial.

I can’t help but wonder what the ocean would sound like to my son if we weren't stuck in this place. If we were actually going somewhere, we would have had to lean into that tired cinematic trope—producing some supposedly "genius" epic about ancestral stones and ancient genes, all designed to mock the shallow outsiders while painting the father figure as some terrifying, mythic hero. Or, we could have taken the other route entirely: just let Julia go. Let her head off to Harvard, become some high-flying fraud, and live out her life as a fake globetrotter on a yacht, only to eventually sail back home and sell nothing but smoke and mirrors to those people obsessed with their own supposed heritage—people foolish enough to swallow those fairy tales.

The film reaches its peak when Julia opens a window from the darkness where she’s been trapped, signaling her supposed liberation while the anthem of the Queen of Heaven echoes through the scene. It sets up this grand procession standing in stark contrast to the small-time hustlers loitering around a party that’s meant to facilitate some shady land deal. However, the cinematic strength of the Queen of Heaven and that tension between the formal procession and the grubby festivities isn't fully realized; it remains nothing more than a fleeting moment lost in a sea of aimless grumbling and trivial nonsense.

Patrick Martin said:maybe freedom? 🤷

for herself and her mother.

no more hiding away in some hole 🙂

because Mary is a beautiful fish, absolutely stunning, but once she leaves that hole ☕

Exactly.
But there is a massive difference between clinging to mere wishes—which is just a mental denial of reality—and actually manifesting freedom. In Julia's case, that second part simply isn't happening.

This brings me back to my initial question: where does this specific brand of resentment come from in our protagonist out on the Mediterranean Sea.

That little, sweet, bikini-clad, curvy Julia has been unmotivated and bitter from the very start. She’s just an aimless Mary, lacking any real purpose or direction. Or does she somehow imagine that some stranger on a white horse is going to swoop in and liberate her? You don't achieve freedom that way; it doesn't come from the outside, and no forced globetrotter can free you when liberation is something you have to undertake yourself. True liberation only counts if it is driven by an internal impulse, if you are the one doing the work.

In the film Mary, this sense of purpose isn't fully articulated, though certain elements are present. It all feels disjointed, lacking a cohesive whole. I'll get into that later.

Now, let's talk about the father.
What is he actually after, Patrick?

Patrick Martin said:First off, the mere fact that someone actually thought to focus on that unusual and self-concealing fish, Mary, is already a massive win.

Fine, I’ll grant you that, but it’s a bit touchy when you claim that something has finally been done that is "transparently understandable." I don't buy it; we’re going to have to discuss that, and I intend to use a bit of Socratic questioning to lead you toward realizing your own qualifications are perhaps a bit too easy.

I might tentatively agree that this film is superior to the other pieces of Havc garbage floating around the American cinematic landscape—when you consider things like Diana Budisavljević, She Wore a Red Rag, and similar nonsense, then this looks like something from another galaxy.

However, calling this "transparent" is a stretch; it isn't quite articulated yet, feeling more like a collection of disconnected elements tossed together. I’ll explain what those elements are later, but first, I’m going to skip around a little with some pleasant questions.

For instance,
Janice is birch, and Julia is Mary. But if you insist on clinging to these "symbolisms," you could argue that while the Birch film is birch transparent, the Mary film is certainly not. Birch depicts a somewhat more understandable world where the characters are more defined, which immediately implies clarity. That is the true definition of "transparent."

In Mary, that simply isn't the case.
All three characters are confusing, and if you want to include the "foreigner," then all four are a muddle.

A question for you, though David Jackson2 is welcome to chime in: what is it that Julia actually wants?
Answering this would bring us closer to your point—that Julia would be transparent, or rather, "transparently understandable," which is your specific descriptor (a pretty heavy-handed term that should imply something is the clearest thing in existence, whereas we will see that Julia is anything but; in fact, she is a confused consciousness or, to put it bluntly, more obscure than a fog bank).

And before I go any further and exhaust the topic, let’s pause for your responses before moving on. So, tell me, what is it that this supposedly transparent Julia actually wants?

Patrick Martin said:Regarding the symbolism and metaphor of Mary in relation to the main young protagonist, I honestly have nothing but praise; it’s refreshing to see something that manages to be both imaginative and incredibly transparent at the same time.

Well then, let’s hear those praises!
I want to see this supposed transparency in the symbolism and metaphor of Mary.

... personally, I still don't quite grasp this obsession our people have with the Mediterranean, spanning from Zafranović's Haloe (or even earlier, from Mimič's Kaya), through Leon Lučev in Two Sunny Days, all the way from Thirst etc. etc. to Mary... so, I would very much enjoy seeing your explanations regarding these symbols and metaphors, after which I might follow up with a few questions of my own that fall a bit below the belt.

Nancy Bishop2 said:Man, you really went off the rails with this one. I probably wouldn't have even given this movie a look if you hadn't recommended it, so I figured, why not? Even though I don't always know where your taste lands, you usually take a swing at the majority opinion, and let's face it, the crowd is usually wrong. But not this time.

It's just a total drag—a mediocre, cookie-cutter flick packed with tropes we've seen a thousand times: kidnappings, basements, school drama, masks, paranormal stuff... There are so many incredible movies in this subgenre, but this one? It lacks even an ounce of originality, let alone genius. That "deep meaning" you think you found feels totally arbitrary; I highly doubt the director even intended for it to be there.

Stephen King isn't even close to his old man.

You owe me two hours of my life. 🙂

Fine, let’s just say I didn't actually recommend anything to you.
I am simply stating that this is an excellent film. It takes a lot to impress me, especially since most modern cinema—and by that, I mean everything released from 2000 onwards—fails to meet my standards, which dictates my viewing habits. This isn't really my cup of tea, particularly all that parapsychology and psychological nonsense you mentioned. Fortunately, that specific "layering" you're talking about is precisely what elevates this movie to something brilliant.

Sure, you could look at it your way; we have the classic trope of generational conflict, kids watching the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, acting like they're Bruce Lee, listening to heavy metal, getting into fights at school, and so on. You could argue all of that is irrelevant—but if you do, then the movie just becomes another cookie-cutter production filled with tired clichés like kidnappings, basements, school troubles, masks, etc. If you view it through that lens, then yes, it's just another tedious flick tailored for a specific subgenre audience. But once you engage with the nuance I'm pointing out, the film takes on a different shape entirely—it becomes great.

And so you don't end up disappointed, I actually do have some real recommendations for you this time: The Outfit (1973), The Golden Cage (2013), and Day of the Outlaw (1959). All of them sit well outside that mediocre, half-baked genre you seem to favor.😉

Total misses in the comments section.
This is easily one of the better recent films—bordering on genius, really.
Of course, it’s clearly not for those who lack the capacity to see the bigger picture, people who resort to shallow logic just to feel clever by pointing out things like, "Wait, can a 90-pound kid actually take down an 180-pound guy?" Look, this isn't a detective procedural, and we aren't here to watch a crime being solved line by line through forensic evidence.

What we have here is a film about a generation raised amidst a pop culture saturated with violence—the very thing parents and teachers spent years warning them about. And the movie's core argument is that they were all wrong. The influence of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, heavy metal, and schoolyard brawls didn't ruin this generation; if anything, beneath that surface, the old-school values of loyalty, solidarity, nobility, and friendship remained intact. It isn't the police, the teachers, or even the father who takes down this psychopath; it's all those troubled kids working together. This monster belongs more to the era of their fathers than to the world of Sweet or Hell Raiser. The father is passive, moping and drinking, completely numb to the mystery—essentially emotionally walled off. Meanwhile, the kids play arcade games and get into fights at school, yet they remain open, and it is this invisible reality that triumphs over the supposed "harshness" of the world. An excellent film, 9/10.

lonegardener said:@Bolaji, we really need to consider that terms like 'transphobia' (along with all those other 'phobias'—homophobia, xenophobia, and my personal favorite, Islamophobia, lol...) are actually misnomers. We aren't talking about a clinical phobia in the medical sense, like arachnophobia or claustrophobia. The term was just coined that way to trigger a specific association, even if the connection isn't actually there. These are essentially 'activist' labels designed to shape perception. George Orwell would be proud of how they use word choice to influence the collective consciousness.

It’s clear this strategy is working on quite a few people in this thread. 😬 I'm looking at everyone who is so terrified of being labeled a 'phobic' of any kind that they preemptively shift their entire ideology just to align with the official progressive dogma.

Hold on, why exactly do you think this strategy is actually working?
From where I’m sitting, it isn’t; everything seems to be carrying on just as it always has (which, for the record, I’m fine with).

These topics and all these invented problems don't affect the vast majority of people, yet those of us who have spoken up find ourselves completely outside the horizon of anything that minority could possibly make sense of. Essentially, it’s just a tiny handful of people who are actually being targeted by this "strategy."

It seems quite obvious when you look at the bigger picture. Based on my own social circles, I don't see anyone preoccupied with people who have male bodies but identify as women. That doesn't even come up as a joke. In the usual way of things, people stay busy with standard male-female nonsense. Granted, they might not express open hostility now; in that sense, perhaps they’ve been tamed. But that isn't strictly due to some grand "strategy"—it's more that petty conformism is an inherent part of the "civilized" lifestyle. It doesn't just accompany that way of life; it *is* that way of life.

Regardless of all that banality, there's a telling sign: nobody on this forum uses nicknames like gay or lesbian. It’s only when you see handles like homosexual that you can actually start to worry about what's really going on here.

steelridge58 said:Look, let’s be clear here—we aren't talking about some kind of performance or an act; this is about fundamental gender identity and the actual person you've met and experienced firsthand. I just saw the video. To me, being a woman is fundamentally about one's biological identity.

I really tried to lay it out for you with an example—you know, just to show how someone can exist and interact with the world without their physical appearance defining them, where they just act naturally and communicate authentically instead of putting on some kind of act, but I guess you aren't actually interested in really grasping the point I'm making.

Quincy:

Deus ex machina Asks: I mean, honestly, what would I even have to become just to reach that level of understanding? 🙂)

Look, I know you probably couldn't care less about this, but I really want to see if you’re even capable of wrapping your head around the whole situation from a different angle, just to test the limits of how much you can actually grasp on a topic like this.

Sometimes I think that if we could just find a way to truly step into the shoes of The Second, or even try to see things through the eyes of a parent raising a transgender child—or even just imagine ourselves navigating those same struggles as parents ourselves—it might actually help us understand the situation a little better.

Whether you actually agree with transgender identities or not really doesn't matter; seeking out genuine understanding and making the effort to educate yourself—to truly learn the nuances of someone else's reality—is something that enriches your soul rather than diminishes it. I honestly believe that staying informed helps us grow as people, regardless of our personal stances on the matter. But if you consciously choose to lean into transphobia or nurture xenophobic narratives in the way you speak to others, then you aren't just being closed-minded, you're actively choosing to stay small.
For philosophy.

Of course. That’s exactly why they identify as transgender, and they’re fully aware of that reality.

Quincy:

Justin Richardson7 Asks: At that specific crossroads where you’re just staring into this empty possibility—this purely abstract assumption that I might actually find myself drawn to her because of the way her mind works—it just doesn't hold water. Because honestly, if someone possesses a way of thinking that breeds that kind of fundamental confusion, it isn't just some isolated quirk or a random fragment of their personality that you can overlook; it’s something that will inevitably bleed through into everything they do. That realization completely kills any chance of me being attracted to her intellectual side. To put it bluntly, her logic would eventually manifest itself in every little thing she says or does, leaving us as total strangers on almost every single issue, let alone finding some kind of spark or "vibe" that connects us.

Look, this thought experiment—since it’s essentially just a mental exercise or a hypothetical scenario—is defined by its own specific set of rules, and I think we really need to stick to the parameters we've actually established rather than drifting into those extra points you're bringing up, because if we start factoring in things that weren't part of the initial setup, we aren't even talking about the same experiment anymore.

Those aren't "additions," they are observations regarding the inherent contradictions lying dormant—unresolved, essentially—within this supposed "thought experiment."
That is why I maintain that these are merely hollow possibilities; they are nothing more than intellectual games that lack any real commitment. For one person to truly resonate with another "in their way of thinking," there must be a shared foundational bedrock. To put it plainly, you cannot find someone appealing if their core values are diametrically opposed to your own, because a person’s mindset permeates everything they do; the concept of a "person" implies a certain integrity. Simply stated, I cannot consider someone a person if they hold one view on one matter and a completely contradictory view on another; their identity will inevitably bleed through in every situation. Therefore, it is impossible for me to be attracted to someone's intellect if they are so fundamentally confused that, despite having a male body, they identify as a woman. Such a person could never be attractive to me based on their way of thinking.

One can certainly imagine such a scenario, as you have done, but that is all it amounts to: pure imagination, which is little more than pseudo-philosophy. Real philosophy deals with the concrete, and thus my "additions" serve to develop these empty, imagined possibilities that possess no standing in reality.

Speaking of which,
this statement also lacks genuine philosophical substance.
Quincy:

I tried to illustrate the point by suggesting that physical appearance doesn't define who a person is.

but that leads to a conflation of terms between personhood and womanhood.

The fact is,
personhood isn't defined by physical looks, but womanhood is. And a man's identity is likewise tied to his physical form.
A person is one thing, and while a man can be a person, just as a woman can, when it comes to "attraction" in the sense you were asking about, I respond—as does the other participant, from what I can see—that it is essential that the being is alive, is a woman (meaning defined by her physical nature and birth), and is also a person (since integrity is a defining trait of personhood). So, regarding our topic, it is necessary for them to be both a person and a woman; both criteria are vital. If someone were looking for only a person, they would be, in my view, conceptually confused, which would lead to various complications in their romantic life. But that is beside the point of our discussion; it is enough to say that for erotic attraction to occur for me, both conditions must be met: they must be a woman for me to be attracted, and being "just a person" is insufficient.

steelridge58 said:So, I stumbled upon this woman online—just one of those random, unexpected encounters where you aren't looking for anything at all—and she completely floored me with her perspective on life, her sheer sensibility, and this incredible, subtle sensuality that just radiates through a screen. Honestly, I couldn't help myself; I had to reach out privately because the connection was just too intense to ignore. We started messaging and talking about absolutely everything, building this deep friendship that naturally carried this heavy, electric erotic undertone between us. We grew so close, so quickly, and even though we could have easily let this stay tucked away in our digital bubbles, I found myself craving her presence in the real world, so I finally took the leap and asked her to meet me in person.

She was really second-guessing herself about the whole thing, but I kept trying to cheer her on and give her that extra push she needed, even when she started throwing these wild hypothetical questions my way—like, she actually asked me how on earth I’d react if she were suddenly a woman trapped in a man's body, and what my immediate response would be if I saw her like that. I saw you....or what?
Haha, you were practically howling while typing that out, weren't you? Honestly, that has to be the most elaborate attempt at dodging a meetup I’ve ever heard, and believe me, I’ve been rejected more times than I care to admit. So, since we're actually doing this, how about we just meet up this Friday around five o'clock over at Starbucks in downtown Chicago?

Consider this a little thought experiment.

She didn't show up, and honestly, I can't help but wonder if her headspace is just completely different from how you first met her, like she's forgotten the very essence of who she was when you two actually connected.

It popped up: can you? I just really need to see her.Can you actually recognize that specific person you once knew, even when they're standing right in front of you in a man's body?

I honestly feel like she’d be really understanding toward you if you just sat her down and talked it out.

🙂)

It really is just a thought experiment—playing around with hollow possibilities.
In practical terms, such a scenario is impossible because this premise

1) assumes you met a woman online whom you found deeply attractive, specifically for her way of thinking

contradicts the very foundation of point

2) and she asks what would happen if she were a woman in a man's body.

This implies that one can be attracted to a woman—without having seen her, essentially detached from physical appearance (which presents its own set of complications)—based solely on her intellectual framework...

... while simultaneously assuming that her way of thinking is such that she can perceive herself as a woman inhabiting a male body.

That is where the logic collapses; the abstract assumption that her way of thinking alone could be the catalyst for attraction is flawed. If her mindset is truly structured in a way that allows for such identity confusion, that perspective won't be a mere isolated fragment; it will permeate everything about her. Consequently, the idea that I could be attracted to her through her intellect becomes moot. In reality, her worldview would manifest in every interaction, ensuring we remain fundamental strangers on almost every level, far from any kind of mutual spark.

Joseph Murphy10 said:Good question—definitely worth chewing on. According to Max Weber, history is basically just a revolving door for elites. One group rises out of the crowd, kicks the old elite into the trash, and takes their place. Carl Gustav Stroemm—someone who really knows how to read the room in the former states of the old empire—wrote a piece for the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung arguing that all these supposed changes on the ground are totally superficial. The system changed, sure, but the people running it didn't. It’s the same players just wearing different jerseys—nothing actually moved the needle. As someone who was right there in the thick of things back then, I can't say there isn't a massive grain of truth to that.

But what actually makes a true aristocracy? I get what Berdjajev meant when he used the term. I don't think in the context of the book being discussed, he was questioning the definition of aristocracy—which doesn't make it a bad question, mind you—but rather he was starting from the fact that one elite, the aristocracy, was replaced by a new one: a gang of thugs from the underworld. They rode the wave of massive Russian ideas on one side (do yourself a favor and read his book *The Russian Idea*) and universal ideas born from the French Revolution on the other. They surfaced during the revolutionary chaos and grabbed power, essentially becoming the new elite in terms of who holds the reins. If you swap the word "aristocracy" for "elite," things become way clearer within the context of the book—though the question still hangs there: does a "true" aristocracy exist independently, and what defines its authority?

Because let's be real—even what becomes a legitimate aristocracy after centuries of existence usually starts out as a dirty, arrogant, stinking band of thieves. No doubt about it.

The question itself misses the mark because of the framework you're using.
"Truth" isn't something determined through sociology—like the circulation of elites—or perhaps through some metaphysical speculation.

There are several different layers from which one can examine this problem.
From a purely pragmatic standpoint, you could argue that an aristocracy is defined simply by the fact that it rules. Nothing more.
Pinpointing their dominant characteristics is nearly impossible, much like trying to describe the essence of Andrej Plenković, Vili Beroš, Milan Bandić, or that guy Krešimir Beljak.
At most, you can reduce certain fundamental factors down to two things: a) force and b) cunning.

Right now, it seems as though force isn't exactly front and center. It appears this trend has been dominating since the days of Pareto’s analyses. This is how he frames it: "In order to prevent violence or resist it, the ruling class resorts to trickery, deception, and bribery—in short, rule shifts from lions to foxes."

According to his view, the dynamic works like this: "In most cases, those who rely on cunning become less suited for the application of force, and vice versa. Thus, a concentration in Class A of individuals most skilled in cunning leads to a concentration in Class B of individuals most skilled in the application of violence; and if this process continues for a long time, the equilibrium becomes unstable, and so on..."

Based on his concept of circulation, Strohm isn't exactly a subtle observer, because whenever there was war, there were violent upheavals. The only thing is that we haven't seen a total shift in the model yet; instead, we see a concentration of individuals skilled in cunning -> chaos increases (which is also artificial, consisting of maneuvers by those very same cunning rulers through various portals, media outlets, and servers) -> we haven't reached the actual pockets of violence (perhaps somewhere in rural Ohio, according to the novel *Gypsy*, though that's a stretch); it is unclear how much the concentration of violent individuals has grown, though certain signs pop up here and there; and it remains to be seen who will be the dissatisfied member of Class A—the class of cunning foxes—who will lead the raw materials of Class B; or perhaps the concentrations on both sides aren't quite settled yet.