As usual, I spoke too soon. It’s 1:30 AM Sunday, and I haven’t been completely asleep yet. I’m awash with a host of feelings. Some of them are erotic, some are related to disgusting and overwhelming wealth and consumption, related to a movie we watched last evening.
The Queen of Versailles is a film about the family of one of America’s wealthiest and tasteless men. And it’s about his over-the-top purchased trophy wife who was a beautiful young divorcee when he married her, and who is now, at 43 – 30 years younger than her husband – is a statuesque replica of what a woman becomes when she buys all her beauty as well as everything else she ever wants. ‘The Queen’ is the reigning symbol of the movie. She is tall and slender, with a bust line that appears to grow exponentially with every scene. She is beautiful, but exhibits a bland shallowness that I found sickening, threatening. She is the mother of eight children, each demonstrating the sickness she symbolizes. They are devastated by the financial crisis of 2008 in the US. "It's bank's fault for getting us addicted to cheap money!" (On the only occasion her children had to fly commercial to some place, one of them asked, “What are all these people doing on our plane?) Mother’s answer was shallow and vapid and offhand. Could any of us become this shallow and wasteful. How easily could I become this was just “because I could?”
This couple are in the process of building the largest family home under one roof in the USA. We’re talking 30 bathrooms, 10 kitchens, a staff of more than 25. The whole thing is modeled after Louis XIV Palace at Versailles in France. At one point we are shown a storage facility filled with the artifacts to be placed in the finished house. One area contains $5 million worth of marble slabs!
I have to pull myself back here. You see how this has got me? Can you feel me sliding into manic-mad state? I’m sure my blood pressure is climbing. (“Don’t get excited about things,” Dr. Baksee advised. How can my brain take in such disgusting scenes and not be overwhelmed.
This is natural for me, but I feel infinitely more vulnerable to it in my present state. Although I have railed on about this film above, I feel myself being without adequate words to describe the turmoil I feel, the rage that swirls around inside me. I felt lime I was looking at the reason so many in the two-thirds world hate America, hate us, for being North American rich. And I feel frighteningly vulnerable to those feelings and actions this night. “If I could,” would I be as totally self centred and wasteful as this man and woman? I feel like I teeter on the brink of something here, that frightens me. My broken brain can’t fully comprehend it or articulate it. I haven’t been able to “read” this movie with full comprehension. I’m still trying spell out every overblown word…what does it mean?…How can I make sense of it?…Where does touch my life…?
I’m going back to bed now. I’m sure if I sit here I can ramble on like this, searching for the comprehension I need, but without any more success than I have found. The film is on Netflix if you want to see it. Prepare yourself. It makes “slasher” movies look tame. Next time…and thank you for reading this to the end. I need help on this one…for sure.
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