Yesterday and the day before yesterday, I was watching a few clips on YouTube of Ridley Scott’s final cuts of Blade Runner, which I saw on the big screen in 1982 at the old Cine Tlalpan (there are almost no white people in Tlalpan, but I distinctly remember that the day I watched the film, a young, blond woman had gone to that theatre alone).
I was never a fan of that film.
Recently, in the comments section, I said that Sense & Sensibility (1995) and Pride & Prejudice (2005) should be the favourite films of us priests of the sacred words, because that’s the world we should be fighting for: the world that enthrones Aryan heterosexuality in the sense of culminating the plots of those films with marriages that would breed white kids: a patriarchal world in the sense that the power to reproduce rests with men. (In the crazy feminist world we live in, that power rests with women, which is why Aryans are becoming extinct around the world.)
Those films based on Jane Austen’s novels, written before the psychosis of feminism began, could very well have been filmed in a world where Hitler had won the war.
The abysmal difference between us priests and the American racial right is that the latter, as I said a couple of days ago, are incapable of fully crossing the psychological Rubicon. In fact, many of them love films that repel the priest, as can be seen in the comment threads on Counter-Currents when they comment on movie articles by Trevor Lynch.
Blade Runner should repel National Socialists because, like thousands of films, it is the antithesis of Austen’s worlds. All of contemporary Hollywood, Netflix, and even so-called European art cinema reflect the dystopia of Kali Yuga in its purest form. And don’t tell me that filming dystopias is good for preventing them since Ridley Scott, in one of the Alien prequels, featured a pure Nordid woman fornicating with a Negro, in addition to the sacrilege of using the soundtrack of the aforementioned P&P version for grotesque sex scenes in his recent film about Napoleon.
The vast majority of Hollywood film producers should be executed on the Day of the Rope: passages from Pierce’s novel that I recently quoted on this site. In fact, I’d like to execute even those who like these films, but as Pierce’s character said in the novel, we couldn’t do it because we’d run out of Aryan males! (males who have to impregnate nymphs as beautiful as Rachael in the film, pictured above). That’s the priest’s dilemma: he wants to exterminate them all, but at the same time he needs their DNA for a renewed, Austen-like world.
Having said all that, I confess there’s a line I love from Blade Runner. The actor played by Harrison Ford invites Rachael to a bar and she, a very refined nymph, tells him “It’s not my kind of place.”
I’d say that about all theatres where movies are shown.