Cinema is an art form that combines still photography, motion, and sound on a grand scale. The combination of the sheer number of individual stills, the technology of light, and the magic of sound (the first element of creation in the secular model) is sheer wonder. It is no accident that this miracle of creative intelligence happens in large interior spaces, darkened, and viewed in the presence of many other souls focusing their attention to a single location at the front of such chambers. For nearly a century, such temples of light, motion, and sound have reached into the interior spaces of individual viewers not unlike the model of Self versus self found in Eastern traditions. The form has become a tool of persuasion, propaganda, and profit effectively used and replacing reality itself--"live" events are no longer complete without a simultaneous broadcast on it derivative technology--television.
So, Dean Sluyter makes explicit what has been implicit in the technology and the form. Sort of like Hero's steam engine that opened the doors to the Egyptian idol, so too does the cinema make possible the worship of our secular religious values. When we look at cinema, we must learn to see beyond the image, the motion, the sound, the thrill--we must learn to see the screen and the light--we must learn to recognize the structures of our own self and creative intelligence that connects us, the viewer, with that of the director/producer. Actors and props are the doors of the idols, but the vision of the director/producer is the Hero.
Dean takes us through this process. He ignores the obvious selecting the obscure in order to make clear how the underlying principles of intelligence and self are expressed to us in current symbols. He is not DE-constructing--he is IN--structing. Dean is our needle and we are his thread, to borrow the image of teacher and student used by the 17th century mystic and warrior, Miyamoto Musashi. He pulls us through the warp and the woof of the cosmic fabric of our mind to help us see old themes in new insight. Snow White is discussed in Sashimi terms of Asian enlightenment and expansion versus the ponderous fatty sausage of Germanic Grimm or a Yorkshire Pudding Campbell. We are treated to a pastiche of the soul's yearning to find fullness of Self. Marlow represents a Light Warrior girding his loins to vanquish the forces of ignorance driven by passions and the senses.
But more than an exercise in the new American idiom of enlightenment, I am drawn to the volume as a document, a testament, of a generation's contribution to the growing richness of the American Mind and Spiritual Capital. Dean, like his subject, is telling us about things he himself is struggling to express. Like all of us, Dean is reassessing and revising his own experience of reality and our American experience with respect to his own consciousness. We are brought inside his awareness and witness his meditation. We have a theme, a mantra (a mental device with which to transcend and each person's is unique--mine is different than yours--besides it does not matter what it is--only that you return to it) that comes and goes. In between are thoughts--Marlow, Brando, Pod People, "we blew it." Dean shows how to do it through his own process.
And this brings us to the ultimate lesson--it does not matter if you agree with Dean or his choice in movies or even his take on the thematic underlying principles of creative intelligence--art or science--it makes no difference. The TEACHER is not imparting content--only pointing to process. We must have our own experiences. RATHER, the TEACHER wants us to REFLECT and meditate on our experience of the same object of experience. I do not like his take on the GODFATHER--so, what. What matters is that I have written my own short essay on why I disagree with him. I roared at the moon over JAWS--Where is the analogy of the whale; of MOBY DICK--it matters ONLY that I have been worked up about it for weeks. Dean has stirred my soul--THAT has helped me shake of years of rust from the lack of proper use of my own creative process.
Here, the force of the book is powerful--like a proper samurai's cut, or the perfect cherry blossom falling in the spring air. It is the whiteness of the page, the space between the letters, that connects with the direction of Dean's tutorial.
This book is instruction. It must be practiced often. He is an excellent teacher from whom there is much to be learned.
Read it and be well; these are the words of an exponent of reality.
