In the Ehrengard story, considered by many the Summit of the Tales, Isak Dinesen or Karen Blixen (ahead or behind itself) tells a story referred by a narrator who tells what another narrator told him.
Everything happened so long ago that there is not even the kingdom where everything happened.
And so the story is screwed over itself until the voice that refers it in the argument itself.
The bottom is glimpsed on the surface.
The background is palpated with your hands.
Actually, and although it costs the state of hypnosis that the writer submits to the reader, what is spoken of is nothing more than the subtle and slave relationship between art and one’s life.
Can life live alien to the art that reports it and gives meaning?
Of all this deals with the covenant, the last Bille August movie twice winner of the golden palm according to the autobiographic novel by Thorkild Bjørnvig. «From always, this sick story was fascinated that portrays the great heroine of my country as a more desperate manipulative that simply evil,” says the director to justify what from a point of view perhaps too innocent can be considered the desecration of a tomb. . To situate, ran the end of the 1940s and the Author of Memories of Africa already had a decomunal prestige at the very edge of the Nobel Prize. At 63, she was the glory she would never stop being. She kept inside her, yes, the seed of what she would end up with her. Mercury-based treatment to combat the syphilis inherited from the unfortunate marriage of it condemned it. Then, a young writer, Thorkild Bjørnvig, approached her. And she sealed a Mephistophelic covenant: if he folded all the wishes of her, by nimios and absurdities that seem, she would do a necessarily immortal writer.
What about paper might seem like a patronage relationship between the consecrated artist and the adolescent poet, on the wounded pages of the autobiography that is now film becomes a cloudy game of desire, domination and anger.
“Everything that is seen is real”, please August in his effort to justify as unjustifiable.
“She understood art as a way of appeased the internal demons, as an obligatory calvary of suffering,” he adds.
She demands that she separates from her family, that she despise the woman of him, who even reject the son of her and, if the case, seek a lover.
And he, submissive, is aware of both the destruction that leaves at the passage of him as of the strength of a tortured life converted in an art into art, of a life that only makes sense through the same art.
Even if he hurts beyond the reasonable.
Actually, and maybe as in Ehrengard, everything responds to the same impulse.
Blixen’s work was fueled an existence converted into a fable.
And so, only that way, life acquired sense as the story of a story whose only argument is the hurt voice that keeps it.
“The reality of Blixen was a creation of his.
It was the inspiration of the stories of him and the story of himself, “Razona August.
Thorkild, fed up with pressure and pain, ended up abandoning his goddess.
And she left him leave.
All works of Thorkild would fall in oblivion.
All, less the story of the immortal pact with Blixen.
