#viewing 13

Now that I have advanced to becoming a red belt in my effort to become the world’s foremost expert on the Master of Disguise, I feel more qualified to comment on what I feel are the main philosophical tenets of the movie. This will perhaps be the most “academic” writing about this particular film in the history of the world. I feel this philosophical breakdown is important to share. It is truly groundbreaking research. We will learn a lot about ourselves through this careful dissection, and in the process we will learn about the human condition. My philosophical reading of The Master of Disguise consists of two major tenets:  The film as a theological allegory and the film as a meditation on destiny vs. free will. (author’s note note: the film’s Eastern explorations on the self will be explored in a future post. This post is devoted to Western philosophy)

The most important example of the film fearlessly diving into the theological realm is after Pistachio’s home has been ransacked. Like many others before him, Pistachio turns to the mercy of God in a state of desperation.  He falls to his knees and prays, “I promise never to mock you again” and “I don’t know what to do” repeatedly until he passes out in a state of shock and panic. Some evangelist asshole named Dr. Ray Pritchard calls such behavior “the gift of desperation.” He claims that in times such as the situation Pistachio is in that, “God has so emptied you that you have nothing left but God. In that terrifying moment you either turn to God or you die.” This despair is evident in Pistachio. Even the police won’t help him and think he is lying when he explains the situation to them. He has nothing left but the faith he didn’t know he possessed prior to the catastrophe. Fortunately for Pistachio Disguisey his faith is rewarded immediately. As though God was listening to Pistachio, his grandfather arrives just after his panic episode. Purely a coincidence? The film suggests not. The grandfather hasn’t spoken the family in 23 years but he arrives at the exact moment the family needs him most. Not only that, but he already knows that Pistachio’s parents have been kidnapped. The implausibility of this only suggests that the grandfather has truly been sent on a holy mission from none other than God. This holy sense is aided in the films brilliantly not-so-subtle homage to The Exorcist that likens grandpa Disguisey’s arrival to that of an exorcist—another character with God on his side. This is an extremely significant moment in the film for we have definitive proof here that the Disguiseys are a godly family. The powers of disguise that they possess are granted to them from above. The ability to tap into the force of “Energico” is an ability to harness the powers of the Almighty. GOD IS ENERGICO.

While it is tempting to overly simplify this extremely nuanced movie by saying that if the Disguisey’s are a force of God than Devlin Bowman is a tool of the devil, it would be incorrect to make this dualistic assertion. Instead, the film opts to take a Humanist-Existential stance. Bowman is used to demonstrate God’s indifference to human suffering. Bowman lives by no apriori set of values. He trusts in his ambition and his will to power. He knows what he likes and he seeks to obtain it. He fearlessly and boldly attempts to possess the world that he is imprisoned in through his plan to capture the world’s most rare objects. He is passionate in this pursuit, and though others seem to feel his plan is “wrong” he lives by his own moral compass. He is the true hero of the Master of Disguise. I previously discussed in the farting entry how Bowman was a sympathetic character in that he shows mercy to his adversaries and that he is also shown in vulnerable humanizing moments. In the director’s commentary Dana Carvey even describes him as “likeable.” Devlin Bowman relates to the viewer because he represents the human struggle to make sense of an absurd world. He is a rebel who resists the prophets of god (the Disguiseys) in an attempt to form meaning for his own life. This deeply reflects what Camus would describe as:

“the human demand for clarity and transcendence on the one hand and a cosmos that offers nothing of the kind on the other. Such is our fate: we inhabit a world that is indifferent to our sufferings and deaf to our protests.”

Bowman, rather than commit Philosophical suicide by blindly accepting faith in God that would shield him from his humanly ambition and desires, fights on. Even if it is a lost cause.

The Master of Disguise couples the rich existential allegory with a dominant motif of toying with the degree of free will the characters possess. The Disguiseys are frequently shown not possessing any personal autonomy. Instead, they are slaves to destiny. The book of “The Disguisey Way” anticipates every move that Pistachio makes in the film. When he questions why his Grandfather can’t help him find his family the book has a page claiming, ““in the event the family are missing only the son can save them with no direct interference from grandfather.” Pistachio, surprised at this answer then proclaims, “that is one specific farmer!” This is just the first time that the book directly comments on the action onscreen. It occurs later when Jennifer is trying to get out of going undercover to Devlin’s mansion. The book basically contractually obligates her to “date creepy old guys” for the sake of the cause. Unlike Pistachio and Jennifer, the older generation of Disguisey’s seems privy to their lack of free will. Throughout the film the Grandfather is imploring Fabbrizio to tell his son Pistachio of “his true destiny.” Fabbrizio attempts to hide Pistachio from this by shielding him from the Disguisey way in his restaurant life, but it is to no avail. Pistachio’s urges of Disguise can’t be quelled. Even though Fabbrizio attempts to betray God, There is no escaping one’s true destiny.

It makes sense that the Disguisey’s possess no free will. They aren’t really human at all—they are tools of God. Throughout the movie the Disguisey’s are the LEAST relatable of all the characters. They possess little emotion that is relatable the audience. They frequently are unpredictable and they also don’t seem to really understand any of the other people in the film at all.  The film portrays them as such because the viewer is meant to see Devlin’s struggle not only as one against God in favor of humanism, but also as one against destiny. At the end of the film the Disguisey’s have repossessed all of Devlin’s stolen treasures and left him completely defeated-- submerged in a pool in Costa Rica. Rather than kill him, or arrest him, they just leave. It’s as though they are giving Devlin a choice of what to do with the predicament they have put him in. Will he quit? When the grandfather asks, “is he dead?” the response is an emphatic, powerful, resilient flatulent explosion from the pool. This is undoubtedly the most poignant moment of the film. It frequently brings me to tears. This humanizing trait of Devlin—his inability to control his farting—was accursed upon him by God. The lord’s messengers, the Disguisey’s, have foiled all of his attempts at realizing his will to power. He is left with nothing except the choice of whether or not he will persevere in his struggle against this cruel existence that tries to deprive him of understanding and joy. The final Bronx is indicative of his resistance. He will climb back up the mountain like Sisyphus with his boulder. He will learn to love this struggle. He will embrace the situation he was placed in. He will cheat the gods. HE WILL BECOME THE MASTER OF THE MASTER OF DISGUISE.

I am now a level 3900 Fine Artisan of Disguise.