Notes from a spectacular society 1

Perhaps the most ringing endorsement I’d seen in quite a while of the condemnation of the audience with which Debord begins In girum imus nocte et consumimur igni came from a wanker who turned up to a screening of The Society of the Spectacle in a makeshift cinema in a Berlin squat. Not exactly svelte, he plonked himself on the largest of sofas, making it clear that it was not to be shared, despite the relatively large turnout in a small room. On hearing that the film was going to be shown in French (with English subtitles), he commented ‘Almost a genuine language’. Before I could stop myself, I asked him what would count as a genuine language. ‘Oxford English’, he replied. On discovering that my Oxford English is passable, even though I studied at another place, he seemed reluctant to switch out of German.

He then proceeded to fall asleep on the sofa which he had monopolised, snoring gently for most of the final hour. As film finished and the lights were switched on, he stood up, rubbed his hands together and proclaimed his satisfaction that he had ‘made it’ to the end. He then tried to insist that we watch a film he’d brought with him. Fortunately, he was successfully palmed off with the organiser’s email address to which he could send his suggestions.