Posted on August 26, 2017
I, like most people, rely on fallback fantasies to be able to sleep at night. If I lost my house, for instance, I could just fall back to apartment life. If I lost my car, I could just fall back to public transport. And if I lost the internet, I would just fall back to television, snail mail, and face to face conversations.
That is such bullshit. I haven’t shared a wall with a stranger in forty years. I nearly killed a man over a barking dog once. I can’t stand the fifteen minutes it takes me to drive to the office. The bus takes over an hour to cover the same ground. Without the internet, life itself would cease to have meaning.
The reason we believe this stuff in spite of it being obviously ludicrous is because we have to. Otherwise, we would live in constant terror of having our cushy existence upended. It’s especially easy to believe the fallback theory when it comes to the internet because the fucking thing has only been around in its current form for fifteen years. How far could we have possibly gone down a road in just fifteen years that there’s no turning back?
If you want to get a feeling for how intrinsic internet connectivity has become to modern society over that short period of time, give Wayne Gladstone’s Notes From The Internet Apocalypse a read.
The conceit of the story is that the internet just up and disappears one day. No one knows where it went or who has it. They just know that they somehow have to adapt to life without it until it is returned to them.
We follow the oddly named protagonist, Gladstone, through a New York City brought low by the loss of omnipresent connectivity on his search for and attempt to bring back the internet.
I’m not going to spoil the many ways he illustrates the rough landing people make when the object of their addiction is suddenly withdrawn from them, that would rob you of too many belly laughs and smirking nods of the head which are the real pleasure in reading this book, even though I am tempted to.
Let’s just say that netizens don’t hop right back to campfires and conversation pits. Our lives have been genetically altered by the internet to function efficiently only with the internet. Going back now would be the equivalent of returning to a raw meat diet. Our bodies have adapted over hundreds of thousands of years to eat cooked meat. “We are the species that cooks,” as Michael Pollen says in Cooked.
We are also the species that Reddits, 4Chans, Tweets, Facebooks, and Snapchats. We commute to work over broadband as much as we do highways. Why are Russian agents able to cripple our infrastructure? Because it’s all on the internet. If the internet disappeared, nothing, NOTHING would work again. Not our machines. Not our society. Not us.
And if you want to know what the squirming, tweaking, gnashing withdrawal symptoms would look like, there’s no better place to start than Gladstone’s book.
The most subversive people I can think of are the people at Alamo Drafthouse who put together the pre-show entertainment. They have the ability to find the most arcane material that is only tangentially applicable to the movie it plays in front of, and yet, somehow, can also be a clever commentary.
Such was the case for Wind River. We were treated to a very long Carmen Miranda music video complete with an army of fake Latinos, white people in brown face displaying every known Mexican stereotype for the cameras. It was funny and anachronistic, but I had no idea what it had to do with a movie that takes place in the snows of Wyoming.
Eventually, I got it. Whitewashing.
Wind River is another movie, in 2017 no less, where a white man goes around explaining stuff to Native Americans. Why would a movie that takes place on a reservation have a Caucasian hunter/tracker? This was a perfect chance to use racial stereotypes against themselves by having a Native American play the lead.
Wind River has an 85% on Rotten Tomatoes and no one has brought up this missed opportunity, so I guess I’m alone here, but I felt like it was slow and monotonous. Jeremy Renner’s one note, low energy performance gave me time to wonder why the makeup department didn’t do something about his pores. The closeups were positively brutal to his skin.
Elizabeth Olsen turned in a fine performance. She and Gil Birmingham portrayed the only two characters who brought emotional depth to the movie. Everyone else is very… stoic.
(Spoilers for Wind River follow)
When I first saw the trailer for Dunkirk a month or so ago, my first reaction was to say to my wife, “No way. That is one of the most depressing moments in WWII history.” I had a change of heart, obviously, over time as people began to talk about the move in terms of outstanding Christopher Nolan’s film making. I didn’t want to miss this generation’s Lawrence of Arabia, after all.
My response on exiting the theater was: “That was one of the best movies I’ve ever seen, but I wish I hadn’t seen it.”
Spoilers for Dunkirk follow
Way back in the 90s when I still smoked, I could tell how bad a movie was by how many times I left the theater for a smoke break. The record was four smoke breaks for Face/Off. If I were still a smoker today, I just would have spent the whole two and a half hours of Valerian out back smoking an entire pack of Marlboro Reds.
Spoilers for Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets follow.
Lucky for us, it seems like we get one of these a year now. A movie in which everything goes right. An engine banging along on all cylinders that takes you in immediately, pulls you along for the ride, and then kicks you out into the night, blinking unbelieving at the real world.
Superhero stories are never going to be unique. Joseph Campbell spent most of his life pointing out the tropes of the hero’s journey — and that’s fine. We don’t need them to be unique. As a matter of fact, I would say that we need them to be refreshingly familiar. Telling these tales to ourselves over and over reassures us that nobility and courage and selflessness are a part of our heritage even as we watch the majority of us wallow in greed and self-absorption and ignorance.
What we need is a fresh take on the familiar superhero story. Whether it’s Deadpool or Star Trek (2009) or Rogue One or Sam Raimi’s Spider Man, we know the cadence of moments that make up a hero’s journey movie without being able to recite the names Campbell gave to them. What makes the good ones so invigorating to the spirit is that they tell the story of people who happen to be heroes and it’s getting to know those people that is so pleasing to us.
There’s a famous line from baseball when a dangerous hitter is at the plate and there’s no open base to put him on. The pitching coach will walk out to the mound and tell the pitcher, “Don’t walk this guy, but don’t give him anything to hit, either.”
That’s basically impossible. Don’t throw balls, but also don’t throw strikes.
That was basically the mission when they decided to reboot MST3K: Don’t fix what ain’t broke, but don’t just do the same thing, either.
Somehow, they managed to do it.
This show is funny and fun and keeps the spirit of the original while being just new enough that you don’t think you’re watching a rerun. The new Mads are great. Felicia Day’s granddaughter (I think) of Clayton Forester is megalomaniacal in her own media-obsessed way and just as brutally incompetent as her grandfather. Patton Oswalt is letter perfect as TV’s Son of TV’s Frank (just call him Max).
Baron Vaughn and Hampton Yount have the perfect mix of child like innocence and drunken uncle cynicism. The animations look different, even using stop-motion at times, but are just as cheesy as the original and Gypsy finally had per processor updated so she can still run the vital functions of the ship and have an intelligent conversation.
If had been asked to pick the new subject of the Mads’ experiments, I honestly would have gone with Jonah Ray, too. I honestly can’t think of anyone else to where the jumpsuit.
So they raised a record amount of money on Kickstarter to fund this project, so much that they were able to make 14 episodes and put them up on Netflix. If you like expert riffs on amateurish films, do yourself a favor and go directly to Netflix and just watch all fourteen in a row.
You might as well binge them the first time, because you’ll be going back again and again.
My reaction to this movie was so complicated, had so many moving parts, that I had to take a couple of hours to unpack it after I got home. I mean, there’s no question that I didn’t care for it What makes it so complicated is all the conflicting reasons I didn’t like it, some of them so arcane they became circular references.
Having grown up a science fiction fan, I was a little depressed by the lack of new directions in the late 1970s and throughout the 1980s. I felt like all the innovation was coming out of the fantasy genre, one I’m not particularly interested in.
When I finally stumbled across an article in Wired about Cyberpunk, I sort of threw myself into it. Being a new parent, I didn’t have the time to read every book in the genre and I missed Steampunk altogether, but I did stake my devotion on the major works including Ghost in the Shell.
In other words, I’m the target demographic for this movie. What happened?
This is where we start unpacking.
First of all, and primarily, this Ghost in the Shell didn’t bring anything new to the table. This hurt the movie in several ways. One, its slavish devotion to recreating scenes from the Anime hindered the actors’ performances. Scarlett Johansson, who is normally a very good, very natural actor, looks stiff and inhibited in most of the scenes.
Secondly, so many movies have already lifted the iconic imagery from the original Ghost in the Shell that this movie looks like a retread – this is where the circular references start coming. There used to be a joke in the SF community that went, “I wish they would make a live action version of Ghost in the Shell. Oh wait, they already did. It was called The Matrix.”
Thirdly, we often complain when a movie deviates from the original material, but the truth is we need something new to keep the experience fresh. By hewing so closely to the original, this movie borders on the tedious.
Then comes the whitewashing. At first, I didn’t get caught up in this teapot tempest because Anime is weirdly biracial. Every character looks half Asian and half Caucasian in what I assume is an attempt to broaden the market as much as possible. But there was this weird moment in the movie when Major goes to visit her obviously Asian mother that yanked me out of the film long enough to notice that a movie that takes place in Japan has Asian actors in the minority.
And finally, action movie, shmaction movie! We get one every fucking month and they’re all the same. That’s why John Wick and Chapter 2 were so refreshing. Someone actually sat down and worked out a different kind of action movie instead of using the exact same moves they’ve been using since they learned how to do wire erase.
That’s probably the final nail in the coffin. The original movie (and the manga it came from) was so innovative for its time that this movie’s complete lack of anything new just screams RETREAD!
So that movie we’ve been waiting for all these years finally came out and it had a big budget and a great lead actress and it wasn’t good. So now we have to ask ourselves if we really want to see a big screen version of Neuromancer or Snow Crash.
My first car was a baby blue 1969 Mustang. It was a beautiful car that started almost half the time when you turned the key. I can remember so clearly sitting behind the wheel, key turned all the way forward, foot firmly off the gas pedal, listening to it whine and groan, whine and groan, and then, just for a second, it would sputter and pop and you’d think it was going to start, but then it would just go back to whining and groaning.
That feeling of something never quite catching, never quite igniting was very much in my mind as I watched Kong: Skull Island. The movie would drag along with a remarkably phoned in performance from Hiddleston and Brie Larson trying gamely but ultimately having little to do and then for one brief, shining moment, John C. Reilly would burst into the narrative and light it up and you’d think, “Okay, here we go,” but then they’d push him aside and we were back to Samuel L. Jackson’s dreary attempt at Heart of Darkness.
Basically, I wish they would go back and cut out most of the other characters entirely and just tell John C. Reilly’s story. I was far more interested in what had happened since that day he and the Japanese pilot were shot down up to the present than I was in anything going on with the superfluous characters in the foreground.
On the plus side, we finally have the CGI capabilities to make a good looking Kong movie. Now all we have to do is tell a good Kong story.
Yeah, let’s face it. When you go into a theater to see a movie with a number in the title, you’ve already subconsciously set the bar really low. To my mind, there have only been three great sequels: Godfather 2, Aliens, and Terminator 2. I don’t know if John Wick: Chapter 2 belongs on that list, but it is definitely better than 99% of all sequels out there.
Spoilers for John Wick: Chapter 2 follow
I have to admit that when it comes to speculating about the future I am definitely a pessimist which is why I usually opt for more diverting fare like Ready, Player One and Lexicon. But one summer not too long ago I took a bath in despair by reading Never Let Me go, 1Q84, The Handmaid’s Tale, Children of Men, and Oryx And Crake all in one summer.
I’m both slightly dyslexic and very ADD, so audio books have been a real boon to my reading. The only problem with listening to a book is that you don’t get the same feel for the writing. Also, a bad narrator can keep you away from a book that you really want to read.
So I read some of those books and listened to others. It didn’t seem to matter which why I took in the stories, it all had the same effect. I ended up a hopeless, suicidal mess. Now, to be fair, this happened during a particularly stressful time of my life and I was already close to going out my mind. This series of books was just the nudge I needed to see into the blackness of human future.
I had already begun work on the initial drafts of my Dangerous Thoughts series when I went through this summer of bummer, but I hadn’t gained any real traction. Generally, when I start out to write a book, I begin with a dogmatic statement. It’s more of a lecture than a story, really, and over time as the characters come to life and the narrative develops that message slides into the background.
My initial idea was to show how awful our society is by showing a future society that had overcome all of our problems. Reading these books at the same time I was developing my story destroyed all my Utopian ideas. The problem with every human society — Communism, Socialism, Capitalism — isn’t the Ism, it’s the people in it. Eventually, the story began to mirror my own struggle as it details multiple attempts to establish a successful human society on different planets, all of which eventually fail.
Right up front, I’ll say that these are beautifully written novels and all of them, except for the tedious 1Q84, are spryly told. But they’re so fucking depressing. Not so much in their predicted outcomes for humanity as much as their dire and dead on depiction of how flawed humans are and how the more flawed they are, the more sway they hold.
1Q84 was a meandering mess that eventually led to nothing, but the one book I wish I hadn’t read is Never Let Me Go. Not because it wasn’t well written or interesting, but because it literally broke my heart. It is the saddest book I’ve ever read and a little bit of that despair stays with me to this day, years after I put it down.