Dokumentarac o Batailleu (s engleskim titlovima), filozofu i radikalnom književniku, intelektualnom vraču 20. stoljeća, "znanstveniku heterogenosti".
Georges Bataille
Hans Bellmer, Study for The Story of the Eye (1946)
Georges Bataille is the smartest sick fuck you’ll ever read. If you don’t know who he is, imagine Nietzsche and Julia Kristeva violently copulating while the Marquis de Sade showers piss up their nostrils and Susan Sontag films the whole thing with Derrida jacking off in the corner. A written transcription of this episode would be the textual equivalent to Bataille’s oeuvre. Or something like that.
This guy was obsessed with transgression, eroticism, and debasement. But unlike the debauched ramblings of the Marquis, Bataille’s pornographic vignettes are more than just sequential descriptions of lewd sex acts. His writing is less about inciting shock or disgust, and more about harkening back to a deeper humanity that has been lost to the frigidity of bourgeois dogma. No, really.
J.A Boiffard, Big Toe (originally published alongside Bataille’s writing)
So yeah, Bataille is my ultimate literary crush. I would totally spoon with his cadaver, but he’d probably prefer I cut off his balls and insert them into my cunt, because that’s exactly what happens in one of his more infamous stories. Except replace the testicles with the eyeball of a dead priest (hint: it’s symbolism) and now you’re getting an idea of why millions of professors are shuddering in pleasure to this shit on the reg.
Here’s a quick run-down of three of his most prurient yarns:
Underground filmmakers heart doing adaptations of Bataille’s work. This is a still from Ma Mère, a shitty, “arty” French-Austrian-Portugese-Spanish movie from 2004.
MY MOTHER
Two chicks and a dude sit down for a feast of drinking piss. Taking turns under the table, they urinate into goblets or directly into each other’s mouths. Driven entirely by the dialogue of the chatty girls, the story reads like the manuscript of a kinky phone sex worker who fancies herself a poet. “When I’ll have pissed all I will make you come so hard you’ll think you’re dying. Like a living écorché.” Then comes the dildo and a whip, which are cruelly employed on both vulvas, and Pierre ends the scene with his cock reaching a “desperate attempt to split Hansi asunder, to reach the depths of her body’s voluptuousness.” Are you swooning yet?
Dead Man 2 by Dutch director Ian Kerkhof. It’s based on Madame Edwarda and I’ve heard it’s decent
MADAME EDWARDA
A man strolls the Parisian streets at night with his hard member in his hand. He becomes obsessed with a prostitute named Madame Edwarda. Calling her pussy horrific phrases like “hairy and pink, just as full of life as some loathsome squid,” “a running, teeming wound,” and even “death’s kingdom,” he nevertheless is convinced that she is God.
One evening, Edwarda grabs a cab driver and squelches his dick into her “squid” while the man watches in lurid fascination. The entire atmosphere of this story is shrouded and spectral, as if characters would shoot ectoplasm instead of cum. It’s fitting that Edwarda’s O-face is given the creepiest description I’ve ever come across: like a “daybreak aureate chill.”
Yet another underground indie film adaptation of The Story of the Eye, by Andrew McElhinney.
STORY OF THE EYE
My favorite, Story of the Eye contains a laundry list of almost every transgression in the book: coprophilia, necrophilia, rape, blood, exhibitionism, suicide, insanity, orgies, fetish objects, and a deluge of urine. The limelight is stolen by Simone, who cutely asks, “Milk is for the pussy, isn’t it?” and proceeds to dip her labia into a saucer in the first scene.
Freewheeling into a series of sex games, Simone demonstrates remarkable acumen and creativity, like when she cracks an egg with her ass while receiving a shot of splooge in her eye. The crowning episode, however, involves her confessing to a priest, “I am tossing off while talking to you,” before screwing him in the Confessional while making him pee into the Eucharist. Then the kicker: she chokes him with a noose, inserts his rigor-mortified penis into her ass, and snaps off his eyeball to masturbate with.
Rating: 5 dildos. Bataille is a strange, hauntingly beautiful, oftentimes repulsive, yet entirely transcendent voice. I know my dripping panties are a real embarrassment here, but anyone who can describe the Milky Way as “that strange breath of astral sperm and heavenly urine across the cranial vault” is crush-worthy in my book.
Georges Bataille (1897-1962) was by profession a librarian at the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris. In his off hours, however, he was also a fringe Surrealist, vanguard intellectual, and writer of a wide-ranging body of work that includes philosophy, economics, poetry, and pornography. In all of these writings, Bataille was concerned to articulate a "science of the heterogeneous," a philosophy of everything repudiated by civil society: shit, blood, sacrifice, deviance, violence. The wellsprings of this philosophy apparently lay in personal experience — in particular his childhood with a suicidal mother and a blind, syphilitic father — and yet his ideas resonated deeply with other mid-century philosophy (for example, shit in Bataille's system was analogous to the "other" in Phenomenology and Existentialism) and helped to pave the way to contemporary critical theory.
The quality of Bataille's work (in Supervert's estimate) varies considerably. His worst writings are a kind of wannabe Sade, texts whose apparent inspiration lay less in their subject matter than in their subject matter's anticipated ability to shock and appall. On the other hand, his best writings are intellectual tours de force that are to philosophy what fisting is to a virgin anus. If Sade was a more original prose writer than philosopher, Bataille was the opposite: a radical thinker whose prose skills sometimes failed to present his ideas with that Cartesian clarity the French pride themselves on. While this was probably not deliberate on Bataille's part, it did evince a certain irony: if his project was to embrace the waste products of society, why write in a manner condoned by tradition?
Texts
Georges Bataille, The Use Value of D.A.F. de Sade
This text lambasts those who de-fang Sade by considering him from a purely literary or psychological vantage point, arguing that Sade's writings imply a practice — even a life philosophy — as well.
Georges Bataille, The Cruel Practice of Art
"Cruel Practice" considers the relation between art, sacrifice, and death. It was originally translated by Supervert for the BLAM! 1 CD-ROM, and is now presented here in a new and revised translation.
Georges Bataille, Story of the Eye (zipped PDF, 108k)
Perhaps Bataille's most famous text, Story of the Eye is a tale of obsessive sexuality involving rape, necrophilia, coprophilia, fetish objects (particularly eggs and eyeballs), and half a dozen other types of deviance. For this electronic edition, Supervert took the copy that's been floating around the internet and cleaned up the numerous typographical errors afflicting the digitization.
The Sacred Conspiracy
Writings by Prof. Rowan on Georges Bataille:
In Memoriam Georges Bataille: (2012; a version of the text of video lecture)
Friendship d'après Georges Bataille (2011)
The Logic of the Lost Moment (2009)
Communism in an Economy of Excess: Toward a General Economics of an Enduring Communist Society (2009)
Par-délà la Poésie (2007)
On Bataille and Desire (2005)
Translations by Prof. Rowan
Schizogenesis (La Scissiparité): Part 1, Part 2
The Oresteia (L'Orestie), Manuscript Version
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