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Notes from Underground

  And, indeed, I will ask on my own account here, an idle question: which is better—cheap happiness or exalted sufferings? Well, which is better?---Fyodor Dostoevsky ---Notes from Underground Fyodor Dostoevsky ---Notes from Underground Even now, so many years later, all this is somehow a very evil memory. I have many evil memories now, but ... hadn’t I better end my “Notes” here? I believe I made a mistake in beginning to write them, anyway I have felt ashamed all the time I’ve been writing this story; so it’s hardly literature so much as a corrective punishment.  Why, to tell long stories, showing how I have spoiled my life through morally rotting in my corner, through lack of fitting environment, through divorce from real life, and rankling spite in my underground world, would certainly not be interesting; a novel needs a hero, and all the traits for an anti-hero are expressly gathered together here, and what matters most, it all produces an unpleasant impression, for we are...

Hope

To be human is to be a miracle of evolution conscious of its own miraculousness — a consciousness beautiful and bittersweet, for we have paid for it with a parallel awareness not only of our fundamental improbability but of our staggering fragility, of how physiologically precarious our survival is and how psychologically vulnerable our sanity. To make that awareness bearable, we have evolved a singular faculty that might just be the crowning miracle of our consciousness: hope.-- Erich Fromm


Duel (1971)

 


A monstrous truck pursues a motorist in the film-maker’s seat-edge 1971 feature-length debut that hinted at greatness to come

It takes less than a minute of watching Duel, Steven Spielberg’s feature-length debut, to realize you’re in the hands of a master director. And it takes even less time than that to suspect as much, because the opening shots alone, a POV from a camera attached to the front bumper of a red Plymouth Valiant, have an unsettling visceral jolt to them, despite the mundane action of the car pulling out of a suburban driveway and heading on its way. The bumper’s-eye-view would be a major component of Walter Hill’s superb 1978 thriller The Driver. Spielberg beat it by seven years.

There are some important asterisks here. Duel was not Spielberg’s first time behind the camera by any means. He’d been unusually precocious as a child and young adult, enough to draw the attention of Universal Pictures, which commissioned the short Amblin’ from him in 1968, when he was only 22, and signed him to a seven-year directing contract on the strength of it. By the time he got to make Duel, Spielberg was already a seasoned TV director, though the fact that Duel is understood as his first feature at all is a testament to his generational talent. It started as a 77-minute programmer for ABC’s Movie of the Week and proved such a sensation that he was given additional time and money to expand it into a 90-minute feature.

Now 50 years and countless awards, accolades and box-office dollars later, Duel feels like the proto-Jaws, an early statement of principles on how to build suspense and terror through patience, simplified action and delayed gratification. If you want to “play the audience like a violin”, as Alfred Hitchcock once phrased it to François Truffaut, you can’t be slashing away at the strings all the time. As an exercise – and it is scarcely (if elegantly) more than that – Duel is proof positive that a truck menacing a car on the California highway is all the story necessary for a film to exist. Provided it has the right director, of course.




Not a word of dialogue is uttered for several minutes, other than the weather, traffic and sports news spilling out of the Plymouth’s speakers as the driver heads toward an unknown destination. Spielberg doesn’t even introduce the driver until absolutely necessary, and he does it first through a shot of the man’s sunglass-shielded eyes as he looks into the rearview mirror – something he will have to do more often than usual as the film unfolds. Until that point, Spielberg sticks with that bumper POV, which has the effect of enhancing the feeling of speed and danger while the car moves first through a neighborhood, then on to city streets, then on to the congested freeway outside Pasadena, and finally to the two-lane blacktop headed north down the Sierra Highway.

We learn later that the driver’s name is David Mann, though it’s not necessary. We also hear his thoughts from time to time, though they’re not necessary, either. All that’s important is that he’s stuck behind a gas truck that’s as black as the clouds spewing out of the exhaust pipe like an Industrial Age smokestack. There’s no guessing why the truck driver chose David to torment on this day – we see his cowboy boots but his face is a secret for the longest time – but he’s feeling homicidal, and a little sadistic, too. There’s no more psychology to him than there is to the great white who terrorizes the beaches of Amity Island. He’s just a killer.

Adapted from the short story by Richard Matheson, who also scripted, Duel sketches in a little bit of domestic tension in David’s backstory, just enough to give him a reason to defend himself. In a brief phone call with his wife, David apologizes for his behavior the previous evening, when he failed to intervene at a party where another man was acting with sexual aggression toward her. The scene is like a shake-and-bake Straw Dogs: his masculinity has been diminished and he’s about to get involved in a life-or-death battle to reclaim it.













  1. Duel (1971) | David Mann vs The Truck














  2. Core Themes

    Man vs. Machine (And the Primal State)

    At its heart, Duel is a modern-day western or a high-speed retake on Moby Dick. David Mann represents the over-civilized, emasculated suburban man of the late 20th century. The truck is an industrialized monster—a roaring, smoke-belching beast covered in dirt and dead insects. To survive, David must abandon his reliance on social etiquette, police protection, and technological comfort, returning to a primal state of survival instinct.

    The Unseen Terror (The Monster Movie Formula)

    Spielberg famously chose never to show the face of the truck driver. We only ever see dirty boots, a sunburned arm, or the silhouette of a driver's cab. This lack of a human face forces the audience to treat the truck itself as the monster. Spielberg would later perfect this technique in Jaws (1975), where keeping the shark hidden for most of the film heightened the audience's dread.

    Vulnerability and Isolation

    Despite taking place on public highways and at busy truck stops, David is profoundly isolated. Whenever he tries to ask for help—whether from a diner full of strangers, a school bus driver, or a senior couple—nobody understands the gravity of his situation or believes him. The psychological dread comes from the realization that civilization cannot save him.












  3. Cinematic and Visual Techniques

    Spielberg, who was only 24 years old at the time, used a variety of innovative techniques to overcome a tight 11-day shooting schedule and a small budget:

    • Low Camera Angles: Spielberg mounted cameras low to the asphalt, making the Peterbilt truck look massive, imposing, and monstrously fast.

    • The Power of Sound Design: The truck’s engine sounds were layered with animalistic growls and screams. When the truck finally crashes at the end of the film, Spielberg used a sound effect of a dinosaur roaring (a sound he famously recycled for the death of the shark in Jaws).

    • The "Faces" of the Truck: The rusted grill of the Peterbilt functions almost like teeth, and the license plates from multiple states attached to the front bumper act as "trophies" of previous victims, instantly establishing its history as a predator.

    • Subjective Camera Placement: Spielberg frequently placed the camera inside Dennis Weaver's Plymouth Valiant, capturing his sweating, pan













  4. Legacy Impact

    Duel was a massive success for ABC, earning high ratings and critical acclaim. Its success prompted the studio to fund additional shooting days so Spielberg could expand the film from its original 74-minute television runtime to a 90-minute theatrical release for international markets.

    This expanded version showcased Spielberg's incredible talent for visual storytelling, pacing, and editing, proving to Hollywood that he was ready for big-budget feature films.





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