The Rape of Spirit

by r

So while we elude our sum and substance, we often occupy ourselves by assessing others—and what stands on either side of that arbitration is what I believe to be the essence of all art; we simply take from this vat of good and evil to create our own personal, galvanized interpretations. A notably dark metaphor for the freedom of expression, Quills dares us to turn the pages, to look deep inside our subconscious and confront the demons that pursue us. We're all playing a quiet game of hide and seek, masked in the shadows cast by a world moving way too fast to shed any real light on our delicate human dispositions. This is the enigma the Marquis de Sade seems to cherish and gleefully exposes to his groupies—judges as HE is judged.

So while we elude our sum and substance, we often occupy ourselves by assessing others—and what stands on either side of that arbitration is what I believe to be the essence of all art; we simply take from this vat of good and evil to create our own personal, galvanized interpretations. Whether its the words of pious preaching or cantankerous novellas, the results are nearly the same: exorcised is all the inner pandemonium, the turmoil that inspired it... like any climax, there is calm after the storm.

Even in the dungeons of an asylum, passion can have wings, sore high above its oppressors, and no matter how twisted this film turns—and it does, beyond your wildest—Quills reminds us that creation, in all it's forms, is our birthright to pursue. That no person is ever justified in punishing another for simply ranting in any form they'd choose. Their works may find an ear, and eye, a heart to intimately embrace it or simply relieve the maker the burden of its compulsion. In self-expression, I believe, everybody wins.

Not unlike the equally doleful Amadeus—a film that demonstrates how mediocrity defiles genius—Quills reveals how power—political or divine—can attempt to break the spirit of what it fears or can't absorb. Self-imposed ignorance can destroy the slightest thought, or entire civilizations. It happens time and time again. With that warning, Quills reminds us, not in whispers but in tantrums, of a time less guarded in political correctness; that history hasn't always been fair to its players, and that maybe there's something MORE to every story it's presented.

Is the Marquis de Sade a grotesque demon of a devil, writing to poison all that's good around him, or just a flamboyant author with a flair for theatrics and rebellion? After watching Quills, I really didn't care (caricature or not) but rather, wanted to take my quill to paper and release my own personal, galvanized interpretations. Then I become the artist, opening inner doorways to my spirit, and like that which has created me, I become creator.

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