Punchinello writes...

<<Gargoyles as well can type on keyboards and relay thought. Lexington with very little experience in terms of years and could only practice at night, was able to punch a keyboard judging by the "clicking" sound of the keyboard at nearly 129 words per minute, without looking and locate Coldstone in MacBeth's mansion. Quite impressive really.>>

Breathtaking.

<<Yet his thoughts were in English.>>

No. They were not. Look. Mental concepts (especially highly abstract concepts) do not emerge from language. It works the other way around. Concepts are formed internally. We can use language to describe them but we don't need to. That's the important distinction.
Consider the acquisition of tool use. A tool you have never used before. Lets consider something like a construction crane. You see it's controls. By experimentation you might begin to discern the function of each control. But none of this is the product of some mental narrative. Pretend you've never seen a crane before. Maybe you're an aboriginal who has never seen western devices. Better yet, pretend you're Lexington. You're a gargoyle transplanted from 10th century Scotland into contemporary America. Lexington has never seen a lever. He's never seen a gas pedal or a start button. If you sit him in a crane and point to controls and tell him what each one _is called_ what do you think it would mean to him? Nothing. Simply calling something a gas pedal gives it no context. You have not imparted anything about it's function. Lexington has no concept that these structures in front of him have functional relationships with the larger device. However, if he experiments, he can begin to observe that if he pushes the lever forward, the crane rotates clockwise. If he pulls it backwards, the crane rotates counterclockwise. He can make associations now, and he can begin to detect patterns. He can anticipate that if moving a control in one direction corresponds to one function, then moving it in the other corresponds to the opposite function. This process of observation, association and anticipation is an example of conceptual thinking. In order to understand the crane, he would have needed to think about it in concepts. Not in English.

The corollary to the computer should be clear. Lexington simply could not have considered the novelty of the computer in words. He would have no words to describe it's properties, it's function or it's nature. If you were transplanted 1000 years into the future and someone handed you a solid metal sphere and told you to use it to write words, how would you contemplate the thing they handed you? It's surface is smooth. No obvious control mechanisms. No obvious surface features of any kind. So how the devil do you write with it? Speculating about it's functionality is a highly conceptual and visual process. If handwriting and typing are both lost arts in 1000 years, then you don't even have words to describe this thing's function.

Think about how Lexington would actually interpret a computer. You have a conceptual understanding of what a keyboard is, but Lexington doesn't. He's never seen a typewriter. He's never even seen a printing press. Do you suppose that when Lexington ponders this device, his thinking takes the form of mentally spoken instructions? Instructions to do what? To type? He has no concept of typing. He would be as mystified by this thing as you would be by the sphere.

However, if he can observe the device in use, and if he can experiment with it, then just as with the crane, he can begin to infer the functional relationships of the keys. He can form a mental picture of how this device works. At that point, he's certainly free to attribute words to the concepts if he want's to communicate them to someone else, but he doesn't need to. His ability to think about the device is not contingent upon his ability to describe those thoughts linguistically.

Proponents of the idea that thought is a purely linguistic process cling to this fantasy that thought is a perpetual little personal narration providing us with instructions. As though a little person were sitting on our shoulder whispering to us. Even if this ridiculous picture of the thought process were verifiable, consider that it would be useless as a medium for thought. Instructions mean nothing without concepts. Even simple concepts.

What about Bronx...

The point of my original thesis on sentience was that it is frequently treated in an uncritical and mentally lazy way. It enters popular culture, not as anything analytical, but as an imagined distinction between those we have to respect and those we don't have to treat with any kind of consideration.

So, is the mental world of Bronx (or Cagney) diminished by their not being able to articulate it? It should be evident that the notion their thought hinges upon language is ridiculous. Can we say they are sentient? Can we say they have the ability to observe, make inferences and anticipate? Can we say they are aware?

Of course. It's not just a matter of our having significant evidence for the ability of non-humans to have this type of mental experience. It's profoundly unreasonable to maintain that they are not aware and intelligent when we consider the emergence of intelligence in pre-history. It's often supposed that these mental abilities just suddenly appeared in homo sapiens, as if by magic, once we passed a certain threshold in our evolution. Nothing compels this feature to emerge, according to popular mythology. It just shows up unannounced. And it renders homo sapiens capable of language and tool use in a single second of evolutionary history.

Now, evolutionary psychologists have realized for a long time, that this picture of the development of intelligence was as silly as they come. Highly ordered structures like awareness and intellect don't just appear all at once. They emerge over time from more primitive systems. Intelligence evolved under the pressures that all species face in nature.

Awareness and thought did not emerge from nature as a means to get us into college or to allow us to write resumes. They emerged as a means to avoid large predators and distinguish things we can eat from things that can eat us. Living beings need to be able to distinguish between these two things in order to survive. The ability to contemplate concepts of things in our environment is just the natural product of species adapting to interact beneficially with it. All of our mental abilities are inherited from our earliest ancestors and were developed as an instrument for them to survive. The development of these faculties simply could never have delayed emerging until after we developed language.

If you consider it, you will discover that abstract concepts frequently defy linguistic expression, because our ability to think abstractly developed independently of language. You can't really describe a sophisticated mathematical concept or a work of music in words. They can only be contemplated conceptually. In fact very common things defy linguistic expression. Try this experiment.

Describe the color red.

The reason we cant is because the linguistic structure to describe it does not exist. It didn't emerge because it does not serve to benefit our species survival in any way. Yet you can picture red mentally. Or any number of colors. Doubtlessly, a variety of hues, which you might not even have a name for, exist in your mind. They exist as concepts. Mental pictures. And their inability to be defined linguistically does not diminish them. You can picture red. You can apply it to various forms. You can anticipate what would happen if you mixed it with another color. But you don't need language to do that. The imaginative process, the conceptual process, has nothing to do with language.

<<Eskimos have something like seven words that really just mean "snow". Yet an Eskimo thinks like an Eskimo and can judge the minor differences in the type of snow they see and to them one kind of snow is not "a" snow but a "d" snow and ect.. >>

This anecdote about Eskimo's having such a plurality of words for snow is often referred to in arguments for the dependence of thought on language. I don't know why. It does not appear to lend anything to this position. I guess the idea is that the way Eskimo's think about snow is supposed to be structurally different from the way english speakers think of snow. If they do, then it's not evident that it follows from their having more words for snow. In fact, I'm pretty sure there are at least a dozen words for snow in the english language. Flurry, Slush, Hardpack, Frost, Powder, IceLens, etc. And if we include all the descriptive lexemes that we count when we talk about the Eskimo words for snow, then there are probably dozens more in english.

This really is not an indicator that thought is contingent upon language. I can provide an analogous example though, which begins to demonstrate that thought takes place in the absence of language. Colors end up being a good example again, because they are such a large part of our visual world.

In Swedish, there are probably as many words to describe various colors as there are in English. Possibly more. I know they have a special word for light gray. Linguistic relativists would take the position that the Swedish or English must be thinking about colors in a way that is fundamentally denied to people of other cultures, who do not have all these words for colors.

There are many, such cultures. For instance, the Tiv language of New Guinea, where there are only two words for colors, equivalent to light and dark. A Swedish scientific study done years ago sought to test the theory that thought must be absent where language to describe something is also absent. However, when tested, it became apparent that Tiv speakers were able to recognize as many colors (and with the same facility) as Swedish speakers. This is certainly an indicator that thought exists without the benefit of language.

<<Luckily for us I suppose that as humans we all relatively think alike even with our differing way of thinking.>>

I find some arguments for deep structure very persuasive Vanity, but you treat the concept in a way which is very far removed from those arguments.

<<This allows for learning multiple languages each human no matter his language that language has the ability to "learn" or adapt to the use of another language and that is quite a remarkable thing. Almost too remarkable to be chance. >>

Has this become a prescription for theology now?

Punchinello writes...

<< (if you infact cannot speak Russian). In fact the communication would very much be like that between man and an animal.>>

I'm not confident of this, Vanity. I think you need to be more careful in the way you treat the issue. What are you basing this similarity on?

<<When he wants a drink and says (whatever in Russian means 'I want to drink your water'); you will overtime perhaps reckognize what he wants through mere repitition. Never though be able to ask him if he liked the water, describe the compositional qualities that make up the glass, or how the purification system(s) in your water plant makes that water safe for you and your family to drink. >>

I don't understand what your point is here, Vanity. What are you trying to say?

<<You can say it he won't know it.
Yet he can still make the moral judgement on his own princibles that he understands in his own language as to if he will leave the toilet seat up or not. >>

Moral judgement? What relationship do moral judgements have with your thesis on thought and language? This tangent about morality doesn't seem to be anything you could reasonably infer from a theory about language. I confess that I'm a little uncomfortable with this avenue of argument. I suspect that by injecting your thesis with reference to moral principles, you're attempting to take what should be a purely normative argument and turn it into a prescriptive one. I'm anticipating that you're going to advocate the application of some kind of value system down the road, and that you're going to take the position that what you say here demonstrates the validity of that system.

You're going to need to demonstrate the legitimacy of the Wharf hypothesis in this thesis if you want to use it as a prescription for moral behavior. Right now, it would be premature. Even unethical. Of course, your point isn't entirely clear to me. I have to guess at your meaning. What I'm guessing you intend is that the Russian's internal self, his "moral principles," are based in a faculty for language. This would be a strange position to take. I think you're confusing the idea of values with the idea of thoughts.

Maybe it would help to clarify your meaning if you considered the following.
1. Assuming that the Russian's "moral principles" have a foundation in language faculty, does this mean anything? It doesn't seem to reinforce any argument you make.
2. Do you assume that moral principles depend on language? It is not apparent that this is so. But if it were apparent, what would it mean? Would it mean sentience was dependent on language? I don't think so.

<<His sentience is still very much intact as is yours, but in communication most of what we consider humanesque intelligible relay of thought is lost. >>

Why don't you just say..."we don't understand someone when they are speaking an unfamiliar language."
I'm bothered by the way you treat this statement as though you have provided a demonstration of the Russian's intact sentience. I think you're implying that we can agree that his sentience is unique among species and incontestable, but nothing you have written demonstrates that the Russian's experience of awareness is even marginally different from a non-human.

<<He can learn but he may not learn English just as you can but may not learn Russian. Words are words, but diction, structural differences, and phonetic discrepencies between the two languages make changing your thinking process from thinking as an Englishmen(English speaking man not man born on England) to thinking as a Russian quite likely impossible.>>

What do you mean by "changing your thinking process?" I can't make sense of the above statement . Is it a linguistic relativist position? It sounds like maybe you're proposing there is a unique type of deep structure in the mind for every native language? The thesis that thought is dependent on language is frequently attributed to Noam Chomsky's theory of deep universal generative grammar, but you need to understand that Chomsky is referring to the basic universal structures that language emerges from. He is not correlating thinking with regional languages. People who attribute that position to him wildly misunderstand his intent. There is no school of linguistics or cognitive science which advances the notion that there are different deep structures for Russian and English. Wharf and Humboldt have attributed different structure to various cultures. But I don't think any of this amounts to deep structure, and certainly not structure based upon language.

<<Even if you learn Russian as to be able to go to Moscow and fool everyone into thinking that you are indeed a native Russian. Your nueral networking will still under most serious probability process thought in English>>

What is "neural networking?"

I think your position hinges upon this notion of how thought is processed. This is where I fundamentally disagree with you.

Thought is not "processed" in English. Or Russian. I'm supposing you borrow this notion from linguistic relativism even though you seem to subscribe to theories of innate language faculty. I would emphasize that even Chomsky, who is the most prominent proponent of deep structure for language, has explicitly conceded that we also think _without words_ in his response to John R. Searle's critique of his theory. Introspection is not a narrative process.

You should consider that it's probably not appropriate to be treating concepts of deep structure in language as linguistic relativist concepts. Eric H. Lenneberg is a deep structurist, and in his study of the biological basis for language he explicitly defends the antithesis of linguistic relativism. He states clearly "that cognitive function is a more basic and primary process than language, and that the dependence-relationship of language on cognition is incomparably stronger than vice versa."

If it begins to sound like deep structurists consider language independent of thought, that's probably because they do. Their position is a much more realistic one. They regard language as a product and expression of thought. But only one of many such products.

Punchinello writes...

<<You say you don't have the full answer. I'm just not clear what the question was. I don't disagree with anything you said, except for the notion that Punchinello and I were defining sentience as simply the ability to communicate. I don't think either of us ever did that.>>

Neither of us did. I should stress however, that I disagree with Vanity, strongly. I take this very seriously. Maybe that appears strange. As I read Vanity's thesis though, I think I detect an effort to base a prescription for moral behavior on what he believes sentience is. And if we're going to do that we need to be very careful. It won't be enough to guess at who we judge worthy of some investment of our ethics. We can't limit the moral worth of some creature because we have a feeling. I imagine people couldn't be bothered to have a disagreement over an obscure philosophical issue. Perhaps if it were just a normative argument being made, I wouldn't care either. That's the problem though. Philosophies are never purely normative. They're always potentially prescriptive.

And since you have opened the floor Greg, to really have an exchange about what sentience is, and by extension, what thought is, responding to this provides a good opportunity to do that.

<<(note if you were in Madrid when you first seen Gargoyles and they spoke in Spanish and of course you did too you might argue they thought in Spanish and you would most likely be right mi amigo). But not as an English Man but and English Gargoyle again not as a nationality but as a tongue. Still Lex's moral judgements can be made too stand on thier own and can communicate with anything Man or Gargoyle or Oberon's Child that also speaks English, whether they think "English" or not. >>

<<Language is not merely a tool for communication it is a way of thinking >>

<< Punchinello and yourself discussed "sententiousness"
in quite lenghty detail. If I remember right the main buckling of the topic of one's being sentient was ultimately his ability to communicate ideas. I don't seem to remember any talk about awareness of thought and decision.>>

Well I've reviewed what I saved of that thread, and I cant find any indication that anyone participating intoned that sentience relied upon communication of ideas. _I_ certainly never did. The idea you're describing in your thesis, that thought depends on a faculty for language, arguably originates in the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis and the work of Boas and Humboldt. I'm familiar with this work, and I've never been persuaded that it possessed any kind of intellectual legitimacy. Particularly where Whorf is concerned. The magnitude of error in his thinking is almost comical. Also, while I am unsure of how you are treating the Sapir Whorf hypothesis here, Vanity, it sounds like you suppose that it is not seriously contested by anyone. If that's the case, then you need to understand that it has been the subject of alot of scholarly level criticism among cognitive scientists. In fact, there has been harsh critique in the literature from both the cognitive-neuro camp and the linguistics camp. It's reliability as an hypothesis is alot more tenuous than you might suppose.

<<If a Russian speaker was adopted into your household, and could not understand nor speak a single word of English, you cannot communicate with him on any level of aphroristic expression>>

Aphoristic expression?

Punchinello writes...

<<Well, let's start with the "buffet"/game-playing writing style. I think it's awful. >>

I agree.

<<Having said that, I have this friend, a garg fan who's now a pretty darn successful writer. When I read her first book, I felt that the first half of it was written in that way. As if rolls of the dice determined who each character was, what he or she could do and what happenned to them.
When I asked her about it, she confessed (if that's the word) that I was dead on. The first half of the book was her almost literally setting to prose a game of D&D that she had played.
I don't recommend doing that, but look at the result. The second half of the novel, inspired as it was by the first half, was wonderful. And she's moved forward with these characters into other books as well. >>

When I indicated that I thought this game-players writing style could be exploited profitably, I wasn't really thinking of more mature, conventional writing emerging from it. Although, that obviouly works too. I was thinking, if you were writing something, for instance, where there was a consistent theme of game-playing, then maybe you could exploit it as a device. I'm thinking of game-playing themes more along the lines of George Perec than dungeons and dragons. So maybe there would be subtle games embedded in the text. But at the same time, maybe there could be a section of the book, or a certain character, which you treat in the game-players writing style. Sort of in the way you could mimic the writing style of the Victorians. I have given no serious thought to what properties make game-player writing read the way it does. But it _is_ recognizable. You've identified it, yourself.

<<But your second question is more serious. Does this process in fact impair the reader/audience. Forget that some of these guys will never be great writers, will this make them bad readers?
I don't know. But my guess is that it's the same (or similar) percentage of people who would have been bad readers in the first place. The good ones will transcend. The others won't. That's my hypothesis.>>

I suppose so. It's just that I keep on detecting subtle trends in the way people in our culture think about things. And I worry this game-players thing will worsen. It's like that business of an incomplete idea of "sentience" invading popular culture. It seems ridiculous to speculate that the idea migrated into the culture from star trek, but if you observe carefully, you can see it. I think people in our culture, are less and less informed by critical thinking today.

Ten years ago, for instance, I don't think I saw game-player writing anywhere. Now, even before this conversation I had, in which we began to put a name to this thing, it seems pervasive. I think the novelty has become the institution. Consider that twenty years ago, aspiring authors could not have seen this in literature. Today, I have waking nightmares that the kid who would have been the next Paul Auster is going to become intellectually deranged when he picks up a dungeons/dragons book for the first time and gets the idea that "this must be how people write."

I'm probably thinking of something along the lines of memes here. Ideas enter the culture and become dominant over time. Usually, stupid ideas. They begin to define the way that people think about things and even the way they value things. It doesn't just erode our intellects. It can erode sensible ethics. Consider this...

I saw an episode of star trek recently, and it really alarmed me. The premise was that the characters travel to a planet where the human population reproduces exclusively by cloning. For some ridiculous reason they could no longer continue cloning themselves, so they ask the characters to donate genetic material so their culture can survive. The characters hostility to the idea is so irrational that I wouldn't know how to describe it. And when the clone people sneak away some of their genetic material to make clones of them anyway, a demonstration of some of the most demented rationalization of science fiction occurs.

The characters go to the lab where their clones have already developed into full grown reproductions of themselves, and use their death rays to obliterate them. And I should be clear that these were not blastocysts in test tubes. These were obviously fully grown and autonomous people. And this is all treated by the authors as though it were the most natural thing in the world. It's simply understood that being cloned "diminishes you" as a human being, and that their absurd indignation was somehow righteous. Precisely how this diminishes a person is never elaborated upon, and I'm sure that the authors never even thought about it. They assume, with remarkable vacuousness, that the cloned people in the lab do not possess any type of intrinsic worth. I know that star trek authors have never picked up a science text, but the poverty of ethical thinking here, compelled me to think they had never read a book or had a thought about anything.

Of course, it's just a silly TV show. Right?

And yet, it's conspicuous that the range public debate about bioethics is defined by these concepts. I'm not talking about the range of debate in the literature of science or philosophy. That remains very isolated from the public forums where most people in our culture consider these issues. In popular magazines and network news journalism, the dominant logic is that a person is rendered somehow, "lesser" by having been cloned. The idea has been in ascendancy for a decade despite the depth of it's ignorance. The people who define and limit public discourse about it have certainly never thought about it critically. Their positions frequently contradict themselves and more frequenly rely on popular myths and emotional appeals to people's superstitions.

And it gets worse. Something far more sinister has emerged from popular, misinformed dialogue about cloning. In popular disputes about it (I heard the notion resurface on CNN about a month ago) the question of "what kind of rights would a clone have" is routinely brandished about as though it were an intelligent thought. To practicing ethicists and scientists, this notion probably would not have even entered the dialogue if it had not been thrust upon them by popular culture. That the question is being asked at all assumes, uncritically, that there is something meaningfully distinguishable about a cloned person which would compel us to assign a different worth to them. A worth, lesser than a person who came into the world by conventional means.

I have a suspicion, that the people most vocally shrieking about the moral dilemmas of cloning, are actually theologically threatened by it. I have no evidence of this. But a few inferences they have made, have got me thinking that their theological picture of "personhood" follows a very rigid prescription, and their indignation may originate with some inept idea that a clone would not have a soul.

"Soul" becomes a good parallel to "sentient life." One is from religion and one is from science fiction, but both of them are shortcuts people use instead of actually thinking about the internal properties that imbue something with intrinsic moral worth.

I hope it's apparent why I think this is important. Magical thinking can be dangerous. The worth of a being can't reasonably be described in these terms. If the distinction between ruling class and underclass or the difference between pets and meat is being determined by distinguishing one as sentient or soul-containing, then we have not really distinguished anything. We're just making things up. We might as well assign moral worth based upon who has stars on their bellies.

I don't remember what Goliath's reaction to Thailog was precisely. I remember that he was alarmed by the prospect of there being another version of himself. How would you describe his feelings about the issue. I suspect since he would have no concept of cloning technology, his perception of it would be unique.

Punchinello writes...

Hello Mr. Weisman.

<<So sometimes, it does get annoying. But mostly I enjoy doing this. (I do think that doing a little a day has been a much better system than trying to do big batches of questions all at once. I get less annoyed when not burdened with the cumulative effects of annoyance.) Do I wish this could be more of a forum for ideas and discussion? Well, yeah, duh. I've invited that in the past, and, P., I always enjoy reading and responding to your posts.>>
<<I hope that 18 months later you're still checking ASK GREG and reading this. I hope that you'll compose your response and hold on to it, submitting it when we finally get things back up and running. But even if you're not, even if you're long gone, thanks for raising some interesting issues.>>

All this sort of diminishes some of my apprehensions about submitting things to this forum. Most of the time I have assumed it's a huge hassle for you.

<<(Although what you quoted at the head of your post:
<<You idiot! Did you not read the no ideas clause on the main askgreg page or are you just pretending to be stupid!>>
is a bit lost on me out of context. I can't believe I wrote the first quote.) >>

You didn't write it. I'm sorry. That must have seemed strange to you. When I submitted this post (all those many years ago) there were two posts in the list directly before mine. The first was from someone who I don't think had ever posted a message here before. I don't remember his name or what he wrote, but I do remember that he was speculating about something you did in the show. His post seemed pretty benign to me. He was just curious about something.

The second post was from...some anonymous idiot. He was the one asking the curious guy if he was "pretending to be stupid." I got the impression he was trying to demonstrate his superior knowledge of "gargoyles forum culture." I found his invective incredibly offensive. Apparently so did your mr. Gorebash, because he deleted his post after I responded. That's why you didn't see it.

I think the guy rematerialized shortly afterwards, as Master Debator, who had never posted before and most likely never will again. I almost regret you decided not to dignify his contest for "king of the garg fans" with a reaction, as I'm sure your reaction could have been very amusing.

<<So a lot comes down to the intent of the questioner, and you can usually tell, if not in a single post then in the range of posts that that person submits. If I get 16 posts in a row asking something like, "Who is Maggie's father?" followed by "Who is Claw's father?" followed by "Who is Fang's father?" or if I get requests for laundry lists of things, "Name all the ancient heroes who have encountered Oberon," then you can bet that the questioner was looking for a question to ask, as opposed to trying to deepen his or her understanding of the show or character.>>
<<And again, I think you can often (though not always) tell by the question itself if that's what the questioner is seeking. A deeper understanding about some aspect of the show.>>

I understand. I think part of the reason that I responded to the anonymous character in the way I did was because I had gotten the idea in my head that it was the same anonymous character that is persistently demanding that you elaborate on the most trivial minutia. From my perspective, it seemed like someone had just asked where fox got her tattoo six times in a row, then had the unmitigated gaul to call someone else an idiot for asking an innocent question.

Gothic Cowboy writes...

Hello, again. I have a question/observation concerning Oberon. I have noticed an unfortunate trend among fans of the series (particularly in fanfiction, although I understand you don't read such material) to present Oberon in an unfavorable light. Even The Gargoyles Saga, which normally boasts excellent characterization, consistently depicts Oberon in a manner which I feel is grossly unfair. I liked Oberon. I thought that he was stern, but fair, and was also very concerned with the proper use of power. Granted, he possessed character flaws. But he banished his Children from Avalon, forcing them to live amongst mortals, because he felt that they didn't have proper respect for the rights of mortals. His Law is also shown in an unfair light. Most fans seem to like to show him as an uncaring, distant figure, who could care less if the bulk of humanity simply died off. I interpret his Law differently, though. Perhaps its simply because I am an inveterate comic book fan, and the topic has been frequently used in comic books. But I believe that Oberon forbids direct magical intervention, even to help mortals, because he understands that mortals must stand on their own. He understands that, if he were to direct his Children to use their powers to shelter and care for mortals, we would come to rely on them for everything, even the problems that we could solve on our own. Our potential would be stunted. We would eventually become little better than pets for the Children of Oberon. Obviously, he doesn't mind non-magical intervention. Puck interferes a great deal, but as Owen, without magic. Grandmother has seemingly guided and advised mortals for centuries. Many of the Children (including Oberon himself) have sired or beared Half-Fae children with mortals. His emphasis seems to be on ensuring that mortals don't become reliant on the Children of Oberon, that we feed our own poor, treat our own sick and wounded, fight our own battles. In short, that we make our own mistakes and stand on our own two feet. Was I off the mark?

Audra writes...

I know that the Gargoyles Movie on VHS has scenes cut out from the Awakening episodes that were shown on TV. You guys did a pretty good job editing it I think. (I'm not sure if you did that or not though.) This is just my opinion, but I'd just like to tell you about one small scene I think should of been kept in the movie on VHS. The scene where Goliath is talking to Princess Katherine and Magus, right before Magus turns Goliath to stone, Goliath says, "The eggs in the rookery will soon hatch, they will need guidance." And then Princess Katherine says, "Never fear, we will watch over them as if they were our own." I think that small scene should of stayed in the movie. If you never saw the Awakening episodes on TV, and started watching the other Gargoyles episodes on TV, I think that small scene is important so people know that Goliath asked Katherine and Magus to take care of the eggs. Maybe that's just me, but that's just my opinion, and I thought I'd like to tell you about it.

P.S. I also think on the Awakening episodes on TV, it's funny when Hudson is flipping through the channels on the TV, and there is a scene from the Lion King. Since I'm also a big Lion King fan.

Blaise writes...

Hey there! Welcome back!

Just finished reading your summer vacation..."Escape from New York" is right! Man, that must've been a tense ride at the time. I guess no harm no foul, but I still don't envy your experience. I envy Greg "Xanatos," though--he got to be your chauffer for the day!

BTW, I didn't realize you were a "Harry Potter" reader! I read through the whole of book 5 in about three nights and a Saturday morning. Yes, it has grown up some, but then, so has Harry.

LXG: I was introduced to that last year, read the collected graphic novel at the house of a friend I was visiting for Thanksgiving. I thought it was a great, fun read (though I, predictably, shook my head at the whole "Freemason" thing). I have to admit I had no idea who Quartermain was, originally. Still not sure if I'll see the movie though, considering the changes they've made.

I'm also not sure if I'll go see Sindbad in the theaters. I'm tempted to see it just for Eris--I like her look, and her animation style seems nice--but frankly, my biggest turn-off is the dog. From what I've heard, he originally wasn't in that much of the movie, but after viewing their test audience's reaction to him (and they were predominantly young children) they added 7 more scenes with the dog. Of course, since I have not seen it, I cannot judge. What rubbed you about it?

And the Gathering...man what a great time it must have been. I wish I could have gone. Heck, I wish I remembered to do the Honorary Attendee thing (I'm still kicking myself over that). The thing I actually missed most about this one, is that I wasn't able to sign the Sperlings' card--that was a great thing that everybody did, and I really regret not being a part of that.

Well, that's about all I have to say right now. But just wait 'til you post your next ramble, Greg--I'll have a whole book written for you then! Of course, by the time you read this, a LOT of what I've written will be outdated. Oh well.... :-)
Later!

Blaise writes...

SANCTUARY

Naturally, Notre Dame had to be brought into this series *sometime* (especially once they started the world tour).
I don't know who I figured the "winged sillhouette" (sp?) at the beginning to be, but I think I may have suspected Demona, because she struck me as the most well-traveled gargoyle I could think of.
Then we see Macbeth with a babe who sports a heavy French accent. It wasn't until she said "we have all the time in the world" (accompanied by a not-too-subtle music sting) that I recognized her (by voice anyway). I knew I was in for a good ep.
And Elisa pretty much admits her romantic view of Goliath. I find it interesting how she so naturally moves from talking to herself to talking to the "snoozing" crew. And of course we have yet another "D'oh" moment when Elisa starts to call her parents...and stops to follow Demona and Macbeth.
Pointless note--I like D & M's costumes here. Very nice.
Elisa eventually makes her way back to the others with the paper and they're off and running after the plot.
Something I'd point out here, Angela never says that Katharine or Tom told her about Notre Dame, yet I've seen several people make that assumption. As far as I can tell, Angela didn't hear about it until Elisa mentioned it.
I believe, when I first saw this, I took Goliath's rebuking Angela for calling him father as him preserving tradition--even though he pretty much states he's concerned about keeping Angela away from Demona the next minute. Gradually, I began to see that this was mostly just his excuse. Unfortunately, in doing that, he was actually pushing her away.
I love Elisa's shocked "What?!" to being put in the role of "helpless damsel who needs protection." Goliath didn't even ask her (or wait to hear what Elisa had to say after "I can sympathize, but--"). He just did it. Yet, Elisa goes along with it. She can barely look Angela in the eye when she says it.
Every time I see Goliath clawing the wall of Notre Dame I cringe. Have some respect for historic sites, will ya?!
I only really noticed Demona's line "In here, my love" the second time I watched it. I think the first time, her actual reaction upon seeing Goliath pushed it out of my mind. I like her line "New York is your protectorate--Paris belongs to me!" This is especially fun in hindsight, because, as we learn later in HUNTER'S MOON (and the unanimated TEAM ATLANTIS episode THE LAST) she has quite a history with this city.
There is some weird animation here. At one point, Demona sends Goliath hutling through the tower and he knocks the head off a stone gargoyle next to Bronx--but there's no sound! I recall that some folks assumed said gargoyle to be Boudicca ducking (probably because of its coloring) before they slowed down the tape. Also, when Demona says "You're not leaving here alive" she seems a bit skinnier than usual (and her halter-top seems to be a bit more...[ahem] revealing).
Enter Thailog. In new threads too! I don't know when/where/how he got that armor, but it does end up making him look even more distinctive from Goliath. And, as per the memo, gives him a little more of a Xanatos quality. And reintroducing him as Demona's love interest! It was a twist but felt so natural at the same time!
Thailog is great here, and Demona's taunting of Goliath is really...something, I don't know. All I know is it's aggravating enough to make me want to strangle her (and that's with the knowledge that I'd be dead within .2 seconds). And Goliath's actions here are endlessly fascinating. He accuses Demona, and tries to save Thailog. I have to wonder at his thoughts about his "son" getting together with his ex. I love Thailog's offering "to share [his] santuary" with Goliath--that is SOOOO Xanatos. And of course Goliath brings up the obvious objection, which Demona taunts him for (honestly, who wouldn't be a little paranoid around that woman?).
Angela, being the good little helper she is, and still eager to stay close with her father, has run to what was supposed to be a battle, and finds herself eavesdropping. I wonder if maybe she regretted having done that once she got back to the skiff. It almost looks that way.
It wasn't until my second viewing that I caught the name of D & T's company--Nightstone Unlimited. Very nice indeed. And we finally hear the human aliases of these two plotters. BTW, much happier that you went with Dominique Destine (sp?) over Dierdre (sp? again). I like their embrace--Thailog's wrapping his wings completely around her, Demona snuggling into his chest when they share a villainous laugh. This is one of the steamiest scenes in the series, I think. You always said, Greg, that although Thailog intended to betray Demona from the beginning, he still found her physically attractive. I'll bet he had his kicks while he had her around.
Anyway, it made sense that Demona had hoarded treasure. How much money does she have anyway?
Meanwhile, Goliath and Angela get into another "family discussion." As someone else has pointed out, Goliath really seems to get angry here...and Angela matches his outrage. Little animation nit though--after our heroes turn to stone, we get a back-shot of Angela, and...she has Demona's hair. A bit distracting.
Elisa talking to herself in the cafe was alright--she has a long established habit of doing this. As for her last line...I recognized that it was a Superman reference (and I probably would have appreciated it more had I known that Cary Bates wrote for that comic way back when), but still...I'm sorry, Greg, it just doesn't do it for me. I do appreciate the referencing behind it, though.
The wedding. Demona really looks good in that wedding dress--and it's a testament to her acting that she looks more comfortable in that than Banquo and Fleance do in their respective outfits. Seriously, those two look so out of place in such fancy clothes--I bet they were happy to be out of them.
I feel real sorry for Macbeth in this episode. He marries this woman, starts to tell her about himself, and it turns out that his "bride" has been his enemy all along. His shock is excellent, and I can only imagine what his initial thoughts were upon coming to in his cell.
I love the animation on Demona's transformation. Very nice, and we see her without her tiara for once.
I also like Macbeth's "Who the blazes are you?!" when he sees Thailog. I wonder what he might have thought about this gargoyle that sounded like Goliath and shared a remarkable number of physical features.
Then Thailog hands Macbeth a gun...and I am left totally clueless. I admit it, I didn't fully grasp Thailog's plan until he spelled it out. Maybe I'm slow, or maybe by this point I just wanted to watch the story unfold. But Thailog is excellent at diverting suspicion from himself. And I love his little "Have a blast, you two" followed by his laugh.
And then he leers at Angela. I partially agree with Airwalker that this might in some part be to creep Goliath out, but I also find it more interesting (and preferable) that Thailog did feel some bit of lust upon seeing her. It just darkens his character more and, IMO, adds a whole lot more fun to him. I don't know why, but I love how Thailog holds Angela by her belt, too.
Thailog reveals the truth, and NOW is, in my mind, when Goliath views Thailog as a true enemy instead of a lost soul. And the amazing thing is, for having so little battle experience, Thailog holds up pretty well. Mostly because of his particle-beam rifle, but that of course also gets him into trouble with the water tower. All that "vast knowledge" and he doesn't try to run when the tower starts to creak--he *is* inexperienced. I also like Goliath's double-fisted punch to Thailog, and Thailog's fall (accompanied with EXCELLENT music thanks to Carl Johnson). Then Thailog gets up and attacks Goliath full force, and it's only through the intervention of Angela and Bronx that G is able to get the upper hand. Seriously, they have Thailog cornered, and only stop when they realise that the battle INSIDE the building has stopped. Thailog is such a cool bastard as he smilingly says "I enjoyed the exercise, Goliath" and soars off the rooftop.
While all of this has been going on, Demona and Macbeth have been having a pretty good scuffle. The highlights for me include that three barralled particle cannon, the bit with the globe (one person gets bowled over by the globe, the other by...NOTHING!), and Demona's oft-mentioned stagger (seriously, how often do you get to see a character "punch drunk" like that?). Then Elisa hits on the solution both I and my brother (who had been watching this with me) figured right away. I like her uncertainty, though--it is a bit of a difficult concept to swallow.
Goliath and Macbeth, who had started out this series as enemies, now are almost like comrades. Similar experience probably paves the way for this, but it really is nice to see the hero show genuine sympathy for a former foe, and for said foe to accept it. And hey, Goliath tells a pretty good joke and even gets Macbeth to smile!
Of course, there is another moment between Elisa and Goliath, fleeting, but still wonderful.
Demona gets her first glimpse of Angela, and her reaction is just right. Of course, before the matter gets pressed, Thailog reappears. He salvages the situation for himself wonderfully (and it's so odd to see Demona being carried off like that...one isn't used to seeing her in such a vulnerable position). And both Macbeth and Goliath have, again, a moment of shared regret.
The episode wraps up with a somber ride into the mists, as Angela seeks the final confirmation for her question. Since Goliath won't answer (won't even look at her, it's too painful), she turns to Elisa, who pretty much admits the presence of the elephant in the room, allowing Angela to cope with that knowledge as best she can.
In case you can't tell, I think this is a great episode--and there's so much in it! Not the least of which is Thailog. I knew from his first episode he'd be someone to watch out for, but this episode cemented him as one of my favorite villains, and led to my brother dubbing him "evil incarnate in GARGOYLES."

Todd Jensen writes...

My ramble on "Sanctuary", in response to yours.

"Sanctuary" is one of three "Gargoyles" episodes that I like to watch (from my tapes) once a year, on holidays. I watch it on Valentine's Day. (The other two are "Eye of the Beholder", for Halloween, and "The Hound of Ulster", for St. Patrick's Day). It does seem appropriate for Valentine's Day, with all the romance in it. (Although, at the same time, it's mostly "failed romance". Macbeth falls in love with Dominique Destine, only to be betrayed by her. Demona falls in love with Thailog, but is betrayed by him - though she doesn't even find out that he's no good until "The Reckoning". We get references back to Goliath and Demona when they were a couple - and we know how that one turned out. The only romance here that's got any real hope is Goliath and Elisa - and even that hasn't quite begun yet, with Elisa still holding off on it, as you pointed out).

I couldn't help but think that Dominique's French accent sounded more than a little hokey.

After marrying Macbeth, of course, Demona now could be called "Lady Macbeth" - and I'd say that she fits the imagery surrounding that name a lot better than Gruoch does.

One of the moments that I find especially touching in this episode is where Macbeth is getting ready to explain to Dominique all about his true nature. (Come to think of it, the real challenge that he'd have here - if the situation was what he thought it was - would be having to counteract the "murderous tyrant" image that Shakespeare had built around him, given that almost everybody who's heard of Macbeth is more likely to be familiar with the Shakespeare version of his story than the real history behind it).

I'll admit that I cringed at Elisa's "This is a job for the gargoyles line" (I honestly don't see the gargoyles as being "super-heroes", at least, not the same variety as Superman or Batman). But I agree with you on Thailog's cunning in immediately derailing suspicion from himself with his "Didn't you search him?" line. And on how unsettling it is when he leers at Angela (and, frankly, I don't think that he'd be at all bothered by the incest angle).

I also noticed how Thailog bears the same first name as Xanatos's biological son - and it's definitely creepy, especially given that Thailog and Xanatos couldn't even have come into contact with each other about it.

So you noticed those paintings that appear to be of Elisa, too? I was wondering about them myself.

One odd little thought from the first time that I saw it: I'm not sure why, but for some reason or other, the first time that I saw this episode, I actually thought, when Angela got buried under the rubble, that she wouldn't make it out alive. It does appear that I wasn't quite certain that she'd make it to the clock tower (too much influence from "status quo" television here, perhaps?).

I liked your analysis of Goliath's fears over Angela meeting her mother - but I wonder if Demona really could pose a danger of corrupting Angela. Angela's overall interactions with humanity have been much happier than Demona's - three loving human foster-parents who raised her and her rookery siblings, plus Elisa - that'd have to outweigh even the worst that an anti-gargoyle mob could do. But I suppose that it would be like Goliath to not want to take that risk.

(And re Elisa being Angela's "stepmother" - well, you've got to admit that it would definitely break the Disney cliche there - the first time that they do a "good stepmother" - and with the biological mother as the "wicked witch", at that).