Wittgenstein Page #3

Why do I say such a thing?

If we could understand him, I shouldn't think

we'd have too much trouble with a lion.

We could get an interpreter.

Do you mean for me or for the lion?

Yes, yes, we...we could get an interpreter.

But what possible use would that be?

To imagine a language

is to imagine a form of life.

It's what we do and who we are

that gives meaning to our words.

I can't understand the lion's language,

because I don't know what his world is like.

How can I know the world a lion inhabits?

Do I fail to understand him

because I can't peer into his mind?

(Whispering)

What's going on behind my words,

when I say, "This is a very pleasant pineapple"?

No, please, take your time.

STUDENT:
The thought, Professor.

I see.

And what is the thought that lies behind

the words, "This is a very pleasant pineapple"?

This is a very pleasant pineapple.

Listen to me.

We imagine the meaning of what we say as

something queer, mysterious, hidden from view.

But nothing is hidden!

Everything is open to view!

It's just...

it's just philosophers who muddy the waters.

STUDENT:
Professor Wittgenstein.

You can't know this pain.

Only I can.

Are you sure you know it?

You don't doubt you had a pain just then?

How could I?

If we can't speak of doubt here,

we can't speak of knowledge either.

I don't follow.

It makes no sense

to speak of knowing something

in a context where

we could not possibly doubt it.

Therefore to say, "I know I am in pain,"

is entirely senseless.

When you want to know the meaning of a word,

don't look inside yourself,

look at the uses of the word in our way of life.

Look at how we behave.

Are you saying

there are no philosophical problems?

There are...

linguistic,

mathematical, ethical,

logistic and... religious problems,

but there are

no genuine philosophical problems!

You're trivialising philosophy.

Philosophy is just

a by-product of misunderstanding language!

Why don't you realise that?

Oh, dear. He can't bear disagreement, can he?

What are you doing?

Making notes on your class before I forget it.

Are you mad? You'll ruin the plot.

Shh.

There is no plot.

There might be.

Put it away.

Put it away this instant.

What did you say about Fortnum & Mason?

Don't be ridiculous.

LUDWIG AS AN ADULT: There was no

competition between the cinema and seminar.

I loved films.

Especially westerns and musicals.

Carmen Miranda and Betty Hutton

were my favourite actresses.

I always sat in the front row.

Film felt like a shower bath,

washing away the lecture.

I hated the newsreels.

Far too patriotic.

I felt the makers

must have been master pupils of Goebbels.

As for playing the national anthem at the end,

I'd sneak out.

(Graceful piano music)

Come on, Maynard!

Speed it up.

Can't go any faster, it's making me giddy.

Should I go any faster, Ludwig?

No, no, you keep going as you are. Come on

Maynard, keep it up, keep it up, keep it up!

You're slowing the whole thing down.

I'm done for.

You've ruined the whole thing!

We were just getting into rhythm.

Go away and play with someone else!

All right.

You can be the sun this time. It's easier.

I'll be the earth,

and Lydia can be the moon.

We take rest.

Take tea.

Come along, Maynard.

Oh, dear.

I wonder where I went wrong?

Oh, Bertie, do listen to this.

It's Julian Bell's satirical poem of Ludwig.

"For he talks nonsense,

numerous statements makes

Forever his own vow of silence breaks

Ethics, aesthetics, talks of day and night

and calls things good or bad and wrong or right

Who on any issue ever saw

Ludwig refrain from laying down the law?

In every company he shouts us down

and stops our sentence stuttering his own

Unceasing argues, harsh, irate and loud,

sure that he's right and of his rightness proud

Such faults are common, shared by all in part,

but Wittgenstein pontificates on art"

WittersGitters, WittersGitters, WittersGitters!

Fairy, fairy, fairy!

Idiot!

What does this mean?

It's a gesture of contempt.

A cyclist did this to me

as I was crossing the road.

I decided then and there to kill myself.

Are you coming to the Palladium with us

this evening?

What's the logical structure of this gesture?

It doesn't have one!

That means I've spent most of my life

groping down a blind alley.

Isn't it rather an over-reaction to kill yourself,

because somebody gives you a V-sign?

Philosophy hunts for the essence of meaning.

There's no such thing.

There's no such thing!

Just the way we do things in everyday life

and things like that.

The college porter knows that.

Is that what you're planning to do

for the rest of your life?

L-I shall start by committing suicide.

Champagne before you go?

Um, do you know...

l-I'd love a cup of tea.

How like a philosopher to hate philosophy.

He thinks ordinary working people

have the answers.

He wants me to give up philosophy.

Perhaps I should.

Philosophy just states what everyone admits.

How does philosophy take the measure of this?

It's not supposed to.

It'd be like complaining

that you can't play a tune on a carrot.

Precisely.

Do you think philosophy is useless?

Oh, no.

It serves Ludwig as a therapy.

Are you going to take his advice?

I was destined for the pit.

My parents gave up everything to get me here.

I'd be quite happy to go back,

but it would break their hearts.

Well, what about Aristotle?

What about Aristotle?

L-I've never read Aristotle.

What can he tell us, anyway?

The answers are in Tolstoy,

Dostoevsky and Saint Matthew.

How marvellous!

I didn't know you were a Christian, Ludwig!

I'm not.

It's just that I look at everything

from a religious point of view.

Why is there anything at all

rather than just nothing?

Well, how the bloody blue blazes

should I know?

I'm the woman. You are the philosopher.

The most important part of my philosophy

hasn't been written.

I can't write it. It can never be written.

Oh, bunkum! A full English breakfast

and a spot of application.

It doubt it'll be understood in the future.

People, culture, the air,

everything will be different in the future.

We're mutating.

You know, your obsession with perfection

is quite, quite ludicrous.

I want to be perfect, don't you?

Christ, no.

- Then I don't see how we can be friends.

- Neither do I.

I used to believe

that language gave us a picture of the world.

But it can't give us a picture of how it does that.

That would be like trying to see yourself

seeing something.

How language does that is beyond expression.

That is the mystery.

That was all wrong.

Language isn't a picture at all.

What is it, then?

It's...

...a tool.

An instrument.

There isn't just one picture of the world,

there are lots of different language games,

different forms of life,

different ways of doing things with words.

They don't all hang together!

What do you mean?

All I mean is the limits of my language

are the limits of my world.

We keep running up

against the walls of our cage.

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