Wednesday, March 30, 2016

On Devolution (Fight Club and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde)

Random Thoughts after Casual Reading and Movie Watching 
(Fight Club and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde)


Devolution
            Darwin’s Theory of Evolution is the widely held notion that life is not fixed but continually progressing and transforming. It follows the idea that humanity evolves from basic primitive instincts and a heightened sense of irrationality into logically thinking creatures. Throughout The Strange Case of Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, however, Robert Louis Stevenson employs a constant notion of devolution and atavism. If the possibility for humanity to evolve exists, is it then possible for humans to devolve and revert to older, more primitive and animalistic tendencies? And beyond, is it when society places restrictions and forces humanity to repress their animalistic instincts that they further force themselves upon us and society itself? In Fight Club, and in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the theme of devolution and atavism is continually prevalent as Edward Hyde and Tyler Durden both represent the return to a more primitive state of being, whether that be physically or psychologically.
            In Stevenson’s novel, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the constant references to primitive and ape-like behavior possesses a much deeper meaning than the literal message.  Primal nature and violence, in essence, elevates to a scientific and symbolic stature. The novel presents characters that exist in a state of undeniable polarity. Characters which seemingly exist as individual entities force us to question the inner conflict of humanity’s thoughts of the concept of good and evil, the notion that good cannot exist without evil, and the secret thoughts that lay beneath people’s polite veneer of everyday life. The novel allows us to view humanity as a species that encompass the ability to love, the ability for compassion and beauty, while also possessing the capacity for hatred, evil, and violence. Edward Hyde is everything that Henry Jekyll is not but whishes to be. Dr. Jekyll is handsome, civilized, and pleasant, while Mr. Hyde is portrayed as a primitive murdering fiend; a man with a scared exterior as we as a poisoned interior. Enfield, for example, insists that there is “something wrong with his appearance; something displeasing, something down-right detestable.” Hyde is to a large degree a primitive character; a character that seems to act on the roots of human nature and impulse rather than with any sense of reason. Early in the novel a scene is described in which Hyde tramples a young girl, and “left her screaming in the ground.” He is described as a “juggernaut” and viewed as an animal for, according to Enfield, he “wasn’t like a man.” Edward Hyde evidently has no sense of self control. He is an example of nature vs. the civilized, rational, and cultured Jekyll. Hyde represents just how primitive human nature remains even at such a high juncture of human evolution.
            Evidence exists throughout the novel in which society’s social order is threatened, and in some cases broken by Edward Hyde. He represents the possible devolution of humanity. Dr. Jekyll is the larger, more evolved being, who has progressed beyond the primitive state, while Mr. Hyde is physically smaller for “evil has left on that body an imprint of deformity and decay.” He represents a regression to an earlier stage of human development. Hyde is more vital and primal in his appetites because he has, in a sense, cast off the civilizing evolution that restrains Jekyll. According to Martin A. Danahay, Stevenson includes “both evolution and degeneration in his descriptions of Hyde as a kind of monkey, a less developed, more primitive version of Dr. Jekyll.” Darwin’s theory of evolution also suggests that only the strong survive. A deduction can be made that Hyde is a model of the strong yet evil individual who would survive in the event of Jekyll’s downfall. Hyde is the natural man, free of the civilizing influences of society. A Mr. Hyde exists within every human being, yet society has taught us that we must conceal these instincts that are such a large part of human nature. As a result, humanity is forced to live life with a façade, concealing some of our most basic instincts and emotions. It is because of this natural situation that Dr. Jekyll continues to intake the potion. He views it as a means to freedom from the constraints and restrictions of civilization and society, for as he suggests, he “sprung headlong into the sea of liberty.” Hyde acts as a vessel that Jekyll utilizes in order to do what he yearns to do but cannot due to society’s restrictions. Edward Hyde’s actions would “pass away like the stain of breath upon a mirror.” The duality of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a representation of the fact that every human being contains opposite forces within them, an alter ego that hides real existing emotions held deep behind one’s polite, society driven façade.
            The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a testament to not only personal devolution and atavism, but also to that of society’s. Hyde is the epitome of human devolution, and it becomes exceedingly evident that not only does he have a nonexistent regard for social order, but he seemingly yearns for society to return to its primitive origins. Hyde commits the gruesome and grotesque murder of Sir Danvers Carew, a highly respected Member of Parliament. Carew, in essence, is a metaphorical representation of social order. Parliament is in charge of passing laws and it alone has parliamentary sovereignty, conferring it ultimate power over all other political bodies in the UK and its territories. It, in a sense, is the power that places limitations and restrictions upon the people of England; therefore, killing him is like destroying all existing social order in an attempt to return to a more primitive based society. Hyde, it is stated, did not simply kill Carew, he slaughtered him. “Mr. Hyde broke out all bounds and clubbed [Carew] to earth. And the next moment, with ape-like fury, he was trampling his victim under his foot and hailing down a storm of blows, under which the bones were audibly shattered.” Interestingly, the word “ape” appears in the same sentence in which Hyde is breaking and stomping on the social order of society. After the murder of Carew, Hyde becomes a fugitive and “disappeared out of the ken of police.” This is another example of how Hyde has no regard for social law along with a nonexistent sense of reason. Running from the law can be seen as an allegorical representation of how he is distancing himself from civilization and culture for he flees to a village know as the entertainment district which had a reputation for its sex shops as well as its night life. In essence, a place of sin and poverty where less social order is evident.
            Fight Club, directed by David Fincher, follows a similar approach to the notion of devolution and atavism as Stevenson does with The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Fight Club is a reflection of the suffering experienced by the men who feel trapped in a world of grey-collar working-class, an existence filled with materialism and distractions, and a world where there is no great cause for the average man to fight for. The narrator is an anonymous character who despises both his job and life. This dissatisfaction with life, coupled with frequent flights covering various time zones causes him to develop insomnia. The nameless narrator finds himself unable to match society’s requirements for happiness and consequently embarks on a path to enlightenment which involves metaphorically killing his parents, his God, and his teacher. At the beginning of the film, the narrator has killed off his parents but still finds himself trapped in a false world. The narrator in Fight Club is the Dr. Jekyll character of the film. He is constrained by the towering walls of society which he cannot seem to overcome. He lives in a world bound by restrictions and limitations which are utterly destroying his physical body. He, like Jekyll, finds a means to gain social freedom. While Jekyll comes to this by means of science and potions, the narrator of Fight Club creates an alter-ego within the troubled confines of his own mind. The narrator then unconsciously unleashed Tyler Durden into the world. The constrains and limitations of society repress his primal instincts to the breaking point. While Jekyll was fully conscious of his duality with Hyde, the narrator of Fight Club is unconscious of his with Tyler. He believes that they are two different people, yet the reality is that Tyler is the primal being within him and within every human being. Both Jekyll and the narrator indulge and respect their creations, after all, they represent all that they wish to be. It is not until they lose control of their creations that they realize how much they do not want the chaos they bring upon them. Both the narrator and Jekyll lose complete control. Darwin’s theory suggests that eventually the stronger of the two characters will stand alone. Jekyll progressively comes to the realization that he no longer controls the transformation; Hyde does, while the narrator has no initial control and it is until the conclusion of the film in which the narrator looses the chain wrapped around the fragile body that is Tyler Durden.
            Like in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the narrator creates an alter ego named Tyler Durden, someone not bound by the barometers of society and who could escape the problems of his everyday life. Tyler, like Hyde, is everything that the narrator is not but years to be. Jekyll wished to be like Hyde for Hyde is free, and the narrator wishes to be like Tyler for as Tyler states, “all the ways you wish you could be, that’s me. I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not.” Again, it becomes clear that both the narrator and Jekyll create alter egos as vessels to freedom from the shackles of cultural civility. Tyler launches Project Mayhem, from which the club embarks on various attacks on consumerism. He continually describes his disagreement with mass society, materialism, property, capitalism, and almost all technology and social order; indeed he intends to annihilate civilization itself. He describes his ideal world as a Neo-Paleolithic paradise, in post-apocalyptic urban ruins, in short, he wants a dystopian society; a society without order. The narrator soon comes to realize that Tyler is not a different person, but rather a separate personality. While Tyler’s appearance is not a mirror to that of Hyde’s, Tyler seeks to bring society into a primitive state. He believes that by destroying buildings owned by credit card companies and upsetting the established order there will be chaos, and chaos is the most primitive of any human state. With the disappearance of social order comes violence and disorder, a clear sign of primal humanity and a world of dystopian qualities. Tyler’s goal is to bring devolution and atavism to an entire society.

            Devolution and atavism are prevalent themes throughout both The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Fight Club. Both alter egos are a means to gain freedom from the restrictions and constraints placed upon humanity by society, however do those primal instincts dissolve or do they simply remain growing within us? Tyler and Hyde are a representation of just how primal humanity remains even at such a high juncture of human evolution. Both characters seemingly yearn to rewind the clock and take back humanity to a more animalistic state. While Tyler does it on a much larger scale, Hyde’s symbolic trampling of Parliament is undeniable. As Tyler believes, “only after disaster can we be resurrected.”

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Subliminal Message

Subliminal Message
                Okay, so I dream virtually every night. While some are dust in the wind, some will forever be tattooed on my mind. For a few years now I’ve been wanting to create and organize a group of writings that relate my dreams. While they were my creation, I don’t think they belong to me. They are, in essence, stories, and every story no matter how dull should be given the opportunity to be heard or in this case read. This particular idea was conceived because of one particular dream, and it is this dream that I choose to kick start this “dream project,” if you will. While this, like all of my writings, is mind puke, I hope that it comes across as organized and cohesive, but more than anything I have hopes that it has a purpose.

                What follows is simple and a ramble.

                My grandfather passed away days before this dream…

                I open my heavy eyes and see my shoes. Oddly enough the shoes I see are shoes that I would never in my life wear. Too fancy for my simple taste. I lift my head to a sight of my grandfather sitting behind a large baroque style desk Godfather style. He looked utterly majestic. So straight. So clean. So strong. Perfect. This image of him is the image of him that I’ve decided to store in my mind. I don’t want my final image of him to be of him lying on the hospital bed surrounded by his loved ones waiting for his last breath. He was more than that. Anyway: There he sits. On the desk there lay two serial killer looking knives. They look sharp. There’s one other person in the room. A girl. She’s tall, white, and quite beautiful. She’s foreign to me. I’ve never seen that face before. I would recognize it if I had. A triangle. The knives. We stand there motionlessness until my grandfather decides it’s time to speak. “Behind each of you there is a door.” She and I look at each other before we both turn. A few feet behind each of us is a dark brown wooden door just like he said. “You are both to grab one of the knives in front of me, walk into your designated room, and cut your hands.” In retrospect I wish I had asked why, but I didn’t. And neither did she. We both walked over to his desk, picked up a knife, and walked into the room. Pitch darkness. Reluctant thoughts. Pain. Wetness. What seems like an eternity passes before she and I both open the door at the same time and walk over to the exact same spot we stop prior. I don’t look at her hands, and she does not look at mine. He sits there, waits a moment, and then calls her over to stand in front of him. I see him moving his mouth and smiling, but I can’t make out a single word he’s uttering to her. She lowers her head, turns, and walks back to her spot. He then calls me over to stand in front of him. He looks down at my hands, and for the first time I also look down to see the extent of the damage. My hands were gnarly. Chunks of meat had been torn off, blood was creating a puddle at my feet, and flaps of skin and flesh hung off of my hands and fingers. I look at him; he smiles. And this I’ll never forget: “Good. Good job son. I didn’t expect that from you. You did it better.” I turn to look at the girl’s hands; she had tiny cuts, almost scratches on her hands. I turn back to him. “You did it the right way,” he said smiling, “I’m proud of you. Keep it up.”


                Then I woke up. Yeah. I’ve chosen to interpret this simple dream to fit perhaps what I want it to mean rather than what it does mean, assuming dreams have any meaning: “it matters not what you’re doing, but what you are doing do it right and do it with passion.” Thank you for this final message grandpa. Love you. 

Stream of Consciousness

The world moves too quick. “Speed Society,” we call it. We. Don’t. Stop. Always distressed over frivolous matters that when solved, if ever, bring absolutely no slight or drastic change to our lives. We live diseased at the thoughts others have of us. We fear what they think. Will they think I’m handsome? Will they think I’m brilliant? Will they think I’m kind? Will I be welcomed into their ever esteemed and select social group? I mean, jeez, I need friends. Blah, blah, blah. A life based on actions and thoughts brought upon what others think of us. What a mess. What disgusting grotesque mess. Why should I care? It doesn’t matter, but I do care. We all care. Stream of consciousness. Sorry. Anyway, I walk. The rain drops crash on my face, breaking into thousands of smaller drops on impact. It rains daily here, and the drops are always scorching initially and the smell is always pleasant. This is my me time. A time when I can escape the dark, dreadful, and deafening noise that has overtaken this world. A time when I don’t have to impress anyone or be afraid to cry, scream, or laugh hysterically. Walking on the wet sidewalk, avoiding puddles, hearing thunder crack, and watching as lightning brightens the otherwise pitch black sky. The incomparable elegance. Comfortably numb. Perfect. Quite the metaphor for life isn’t it? Flashes of light in never-ending darkness. How depressing. I walk in my clothing made exceedingly heavy by the weight of the water soaked into it. As uncomfortable as it is this is as comfortable as I have ever been and ever hope to be. I walk. Events from my past flash before me like a movie. The time I fell of my bike as a child and tore my knee open, the blood running down, and my empathetic cries. The world was ending. My mother tending to me as if I was the most precious and important thing on the planet. I miss that attention. I miss her. She was a flash of lightning between episodes of darkness. A time when I could see the goodness this ever so cruel world had to offer. I see my high school crush. The girl I always thought would come back to me but never did. I walk. The water is still crashes on my face with unrelenting power. I close my eyes and welcome it. I feel the boiling water and pain… Now my back. No longer hot. Warm. I then think about her. Her. Her. She’s always on my mind. I always seem to think about her mid lighting. Interesting. It lasts a moment before darkness eclipses the light. She’s light. She’s darkness. She’s elation. She’s hopelessness. She’s all the feelings I could ever feel. I walk. I step on a puddle or green fetor water. Deliberately. The water is getting colder. Then I see the mistake as if I were committing it again. I chose it. It’s amazing how sometimes we chose things even though we know how painful they will be. How long the mourning will last. How we’ll always regret. The lightning is missing now. It’s been missing for minutes now. It’s seized when she disappeared. I walk. The water burst on my skin. I shiver. The darkness is blinding. I can’t see. The rain is becoming unbearably cold as time lapses. There is no one else walking with me. I’m alone. Completely. My skin wrinkles from the exposure to the "natural" rain. Then to my surprise. Unexpected. Glorious. The brightest flash of lighting I’ve ever seen. For the first time I see everything clear. I see everything surrounding me. I see beauty. The now freezing water tells me it’s time to get out. I wait. Get out. I wait. I reach to turn off the shower, and think to myself: “I should really replace that light bulb.” I step out. I dry myself. I smile.