In a message dated 3/24/03 11:49:42 PM, [EMAIL PROTECTED] writes:
> He admitted to it all - the drugging > and raping of the 13 year old girl and was assured he would get off by his > Hollywood advisors. However, when the judge looked at it all, he allegedly > commented to one of Polanski's friends that he was going to throw the book > at Polanski and that is when he fled. I know of other information, also, > but it would not be appropriate for me to say it here. > not that i would ever doubt you kakki, but i'm curious where you get all your inside dope? is it from the mouths of your apparently VERY indiscreet but well connected confidantes, or in the checkout aisle of your local stop & shop? how on earth do YOU know what polanski admitted to, let alone what his hollywood advisors told him...not to mention what the judge commented to one of his friends, in what was apparently a very grevious lapse of protocol and juris imprudence? and you hint of even MORE information?? if you're going to allude to it on an internet discussion list, what's the big deal with just coming out with it for all to see? let us make up our own minds on whether or not its appropriate. as i'm sure you know, many of the scenes and images in the pianist come straight from polanski's own experience, whose father and mother and entire family were rounded up and sent to concentration camps (where his mother eventually died) when the nazi's rolled into poland and began their reign of terror by exterminating the polish intelligensia. the man in the wheelchair, thrown from the balcony. the woman who smothered her crying baby in an attempt to conceal her presence from the germans. the mad woman wandering the streets, looking for her husband. the man licking the spilled soup from the filthy sidewalk. these are the things polanski saw, alone, on his own, with no one to care for him, at the ripe old age of SIX. this little boy, who escaped the warsaw ghetto and wandered the polish countryside, hiding in the forest, struggling to stay alive. alone, and SIX YEARS OLD! who managed to stifle whatever demons that nightmare left racketing around his psyche, only to have his wife and friends slaughtered by a notorious gang of psychopaths. whose wife, EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT was stabbed to death as she begged for her life and the life of their unborn child. and yet he still, somehow, made great cinematic works of art, informing every one of them with his paranoia, fear, and a pervasive dread. i'm not here to be the apologist for roman polanski. thankfully, for him, he has no need for me to do so. because for those of us who think that art is, among other things, redemptive, his films do that all by themselves. he's a great artist, no matter how much pious gorge his name may cause to rise in your throat. if you can't seperate the art from the artist, then you should be consistent and throw out all of picasso's paintings, toss mozart's symphonies on the fire, relegate john lennon's music to the trash, erase all marlon brando's performances, ban the works of andre gide and jean paul sartre, and maybe take a real good look at some of the behavior of a certain joni mitchell. and that would be just the tip of a very big iceberg. roman polanski should not be held to any different standard of morality and socially acceptable behavior as anyone else. but i know i can't judge him, and i'm fascinated by the fact that you think you can. particularly when your judgements are based on innuendo and rumor, repeated as fact by someone who told someone who told someone who told someone who told you. ric
