gyges_kant

As is my wont, I was cruising Metacritic to look at reviews. Eager to find like-minded people, I read a couple of negative reviews of Capitalism: A Love Story.

I do not like Michael Moore; I don't like the man, I don't like his politics (assuming he means what he says, and that is a significant assumption), and I don't like his films. Upon first viewing, I thought Bowling for Columbine was an occasionally witty, rarely insightful, and often vapid little film. Upon reading more about the subject and the movie, I discovered Moore's many subtle manipulations and frequent outright lies. For those unfamiliar with his patterns of deception, I would encourage you to do a little research on the topic--but one example will prove illustrative. Posing with a rifle in the bank that gives a gun to new customers, Moore ends the segment by asking someone, "Don't you think it's kinda dumb to keep guns in a bank?" Rimshot, next scene. Of course, the bank doesn't keep guns on site. To get the free gun, you redeem a voucher issued by the bank at a participating vendor, and then after the waiting period you get your rifle. There are dozens of examples of such misdirection in his movies.

Sicko I found repellent in the extreme, as I have some first-hand knowledge and some academic study informing my ideas about health care; as a result, I knew when he was lying while watching the movie. My friend Alan and I frequently swore vociferously at the screen (we watched it at his place, don't worry) many times whenever he tried to pass off a falsehood or manipulation. His lies about the Canadian health care system were particularly brazen. All of this is to say nothing of the unforgivable stunt of taking sick people to Cuba, all to prove his virtue and the comparable vice of others--all while exploiting the ill, not to mention the exploitation of the desperately poor Cubans' taxes that subsidize their cheap drugs.

The fact that I fundamentally agree with many of his points on health care made me all the madder when his "argument" spun wildly out of control--he began by advocating universal medical insurance (worthwhile), then he lionized all manner of socialist boondoggles such as the French 35-hour work week (disastrous) and their program of state-funded nannies to do your laundry (risible). As the saying goes, there is always someone on your side of the argument that you desperately wish were on the other side.

And now Capitalism. As I read the bad reviews, filled with pleasing invectives, I wondered why there weren't more mentions of Moore's brazen mendacity. Make no mistake, it's no secret; I am told that Moore's first film, Roger & Me, is taught in documentary film schools because there is significant debate as to whether it can even be considered a documentary.

At any rate, the reviews of Capitalism focused more on Moore's smugness, his vague and contradictory claims, his cheap sentimentalism and empty populism. Having now seen a couple of clips and an interview, I can understand why. The film--I am not exaggerating here--recommends and predicts armed rebellion so as to make sure that "wealth" is returned to "the people." Who those people are is unclear, but I suspect any good Marxist understanding of the term would rule out 90+% of Moore's audience. Rebutting Moore's ridiculous and superficial critiques of market capitalism is unnecessary when his proposed solutions are so a) ridiculously inchoate, b) ridiculously irresponsible, and c) ridiculous.

Man, the guy makes me angry.

Dear Mad Men,

I get it, okay? I've read The Feminine Mystique, and even before I did, I knew the early sixties were extremely patriarchal. So yeah, you can stop making entire little set-pieces to remind the viewers--"Holy shit, Martha, we're really patriarchal"--I half-expect Peggy to shrug at the camera then next time someone asks her to do something demeaning. I get it.

I also know that it was pretty racist, then, too.

And yeah, suburban life was hollow and unfulfilling. When Alan Ball did that in 1999 with American Beauty, contrary to what fawning critics said at the time, that theme had already been done to death in TV and cinema. It's ten years later, people, and the horse of suburban malaise is well and truly dead, so please put down the stick.

I'll admit that the first time you showed a pregnant woman smoking and/or drinking hard liquor that it was cute. But now you're doing it every bloody episode, like a three-year who gets laughs from a pratfall and now does it all the time. The long pause after a pregnant woman takes a deep draw from some scotch or something feels like a rim-shot, so you can give it a rest.

You have two and a half interesting characters (Don Draper, Peggy Olsen, and Joan Holloway) and a boat-load of wasted talent. Play to your strengths already.

Sincerely,
A guy who's starting to wonder why he's watching

My interest in videogames tends to wax and wane, roughly in inverse proportion to my interest in anime (read: Macross). At the moment, it's waxing.
I got a free Gamefly trial account (under an assumed name, because I had already used up my free trial) and so help me, I think I'll pay for a at least a couple of months of service. So far, I've tried Prototype and Arkham Asylum.

Prototype basically asks, "how cool would it be to play as a Resident Evil boss in a quasi-sandbox version of Manhattan?" To which the answer is, "pretty bloody cool." It's like an amalgam of all the super-hero games' good points (the free-form movement of your better Spider-Man games, the wanton destruction of your better Hulk game), a couple decent vehicle combat games (you get to hijack tanks and helicopters), coupled with mass murder. Once you get your Nth report attributing to you $9.8 billion of damage to government property (sounds like stimulus money to me), 384 military casualties (they were asking for it), 255 infected casualties (they were gonna die anyway), and 123 innocent casualties, you start worrying about collateral damage a mite less. Not my fault they got in the way of my bio-engineered arm blades, no sir. They shouldn't have been sashaying so close to a military base I wanted to blow up.

Arkham Asylum is a mite disappointing, given its universal praise from respectable game journalism sources. I mean, it's good and all, but it's not the second coming. For one thing, the voice acting is very uneven--Batman sounds bad (ask Christian Bale how hard it is to voice Batman well), whereas the Joker is outstanding (done by Mark Hamill, who shows he's a better comic book villain than Jedi).  For another, while the combat engine is great, it's underused; whereas the weak exploration elements--which have all the challenge, appeal, and interactivity of connect-the-dots in Hi-Def--are overused. On the plus side, it contains the line, "It was full of marzipan and kittens."

Next up on the queue are Dissidia: Final Fantasy (not for me), Little King's Story (not solely for me), and MadWorld (just for me).

I have decided to re-cast the Watchmen movie. Make no mistake, I understand why the filmmakers opted not to use my preferred casting--the budget constraints alone would have been crippling, let alone the contract negotiations--but I nonetheless submit the following for your consideration.

(Watchmen spoiler warning, I guess, but if you haven't read Watchmen there's seriously something wrong with you)

Aristotle as Nite Owl--the larger context of the world be damned! All you need do is worry about yourself. Be just, talented, and if at all possible, wealthy--leave the rest to others. Also, he labored to be as worthy as his great predecessor--but when the going got tough, he just chickened out and contented himself with ornithology.

Nitezsche as Rorschach--there is no overarching meaning to the chaos in which we find ourselves. In the ned, all we can do is make things bend to our will. Also, girls are icky. Makeup note: no need to worry about covering up the syphilitic sores, as he'll be wearing a mask most of the time. Dialogue coach: he's already a barking loon, so he should nail the diction like he would a Belgian prostitute.

Laplace as Doctor Manhattan--everything happens for a reason, and everything is reducible to its physical causes. In case Laplace doesn't have enough box-office draw, he could be replaced by Leibniz or Spinoza.

Schopenhauer as The Comedian--life is a meaningless promontory of suffering and frustrated desires. It's nothing more than a sick joke, really, so all you can do is grimace at the insanity. Also, girls are icky. Props: he'll be able to bring his own cigars. Stunts: don't let him do the scene with Sally Jupiter; I'm told he doesn't know how to pull his punches against women.

Freud as Miss (Laurie) Jupiter--mommy and daddy don't get along, and I have parental issues more generally, and my boyfriend is a nudist, so wah wah. Some might object on the grounds that Freud is a scientist, but these people a) don't know Freud, and/or b) don't know how science is done.

John Stuart Mill as Ozymandias--kill millions upon millions of innocents; what, me worry? It's all good! People will be happy in the long run (with stupid cheap cologne and zippy electric cars) and that's all that matters.

And I guess Immanuel Kant could play Bubastis. Gotta have Kant in there.

I spent some time watching videos of Lil C krump yesterday, and I have a vision.

In this vision I learn to krump, and then begin an epic voyage across the world to learn from and battle acclaimed krump masters. It is not easy, as I face prejudice and stereotyping due to my being a bespectacled white (former, I guess) philosopher. My travels, and my successes in the face of adversity, and my mastery of urban dance, will be chronicled in a manga, adhering to all of the tropes of the genre.

It could totally happen. All I would need to do is overcome my sloth, my aversion to travel, my lack of coordination, and my poor physique. Oh, that and krump couldn't be well-captured in drawing.

Watch out, world!

Wait, or maybe I could learn the paso doble...

I remember thinking that there wouldn't be any salient difference between cassettes and CDs, other than a marginal increase in sound quality. It took me some while to recognize the manifest superiority of the medium. Even after that, I was skeptical about DVDs, which in retrospect was quite foolish, given that the improvement from VHS to DVD was often likened (even by me!) to the improvement from cassettes to CDs.

It was thus that I should have anticipated underestimating the benefit of a widescreen LCD TV. I have been using a 27" cathode sucker that has been experiencing an intermittent malfunction--a little patch of green in the upper right corner. I shall name him Al, after the former vice-president.

A most generous friend gave me a 32" LCD on the basis that he got a new, better TV--as this unit (I am told) will stop showing picture at random intervals due to faulty soldering. I have yet to experience this shutdown, but I fear if it starts manifesting with regularity I will not be able to go back to what I now conceive of as The Old Life.

As someone who plays videogames, it is a revelation to jump to widescreen HD all of a sudden. Gears of War 2 looks amazing, as does Street Fighter IV. I'm sure all my other games will look much improved once I give them a new spin in their new digs. I really didn't know what I was missing. Even my home-made Macross Frontier DVDs, with sloppy video compression and amateurish menus, look great.

Yeah, I'm doomed. I don't know if I'll ever be able to suffer a 4:3 device ever again.

I remember during the election saying that no matter who won, McCain or Obama, America would at least reap two benefits: an improved stature internationally (due to the occasionally justified and occasionally irrational hatred of Bush abroad), and an improved human rights record. Although it is too early to definitively evaluate either, it would appear we are getting neither.

I'll only briefly comment that America's allies seemed to have become comfortably accustomed to American unilateralism, and are now quite happy to tell the Yanks that they're on their own re: energy, re: Russia, re: bailouts, re: defense, re: Afghanistan, etc. etc. etc. The Germans, in particular, seemed to take particular joy in extracting concessions from the celebrity president.

Mostly I wish to comment on human rights. It find it deeply ironic that Obama has regularly been called a fascist for two of his policies: the bailout and health care. It would appear that Keynesian economics or improving a decrepit national embarrassment, respectively, makes one a fascist. I assume that the underlying logic behind these accusations is either that all redistributive taxation is fascistic, or that any and all policies enacted by the majority against the minority's desires is. Such logic needs only to be stated to be recognized as absurd.

The related claim, that Obama is a socialist, is either trivially true or trivially false. Does Obama favour taxing the wealthy more than the poor, but then using those revenues disproportionately for the poor? Clearly yes, but then again every OECD state does the same, as has every American president in recent memory. It's how modern states work. Even if you dismantled every social program, the mere fact that America uses progressive taxation (tax brackets and such) means that is employs redistribution of wealth--and hence is socialist by that definition. The other, legitimately frightening, definition of socialism is believing that the means of production be collectively controlled (i.e., by the state), but clearly Obama does not favour that by any stretch of the imagination.

Then there's fascism. I ask, simply, if indefinite detention without trial is not fascistic, what is? Note that fascism is not interchangeable with tyranny, or authoritarianism, or totalitarianism--it is a particular political ideology, one based on fear of a threat (for Italy and Germany it was communism) justifying repressive measures. The Obama DOJ, at his urging, penned a contemptible policy whereby detainees at Guantanamo and elsewhere would only be tried if they felt assured of a conviction. If the admissible or available evidence could not guarantee that result, they would simply be held without trial or charge, indefinitely. I am not being unfair to the language of the drafted memo. President Obama signed off on it, quite literally.

Note that this is a direct inversion of the fundamental assumptions about the rule of law as it applies to criminal matters. The idea is that the process be invariate with the result differing; everyone gets a fair trial, and some with be convicted while others held. In this perversion, you are guaranteed to spend the rest of your life in jail--and the government will use whatever methods it must to assure that result.

I would have thought, even a few scant months ago, that such a policy would only need to be stated to be regarded as inherently anathema to any civilized democracy. Say whatever you want about the president's policies as a whole, or his presidency; I doubt I will ever be able to associate him with anything else. I am not comfortable with calling the president a fascist, but there is no doubt in my mind that some of his policies are.

Yes, it sounds like the title of a dissertation no one wants to read.

I've been watching a fair bit of So You Think You Can Dance lately (yes, I love the show), and it reminded me of something I abhorred when I was a performer and when I was a student. A number of the judges on the show (Mia Michaels especially, but many of the judges now and then) comment on whether or not a performer or particular performance is "genuine", "honest", "heartfelt", etc. etc. A comment on the Colbert Report about music and "soul" struck me in much the same way.

There are two ways to interpret such comments...

First, one might be saying that the performance lacked sufficiently fluidity, and it seemed forced and "artificial." This is basically using highly figurative language to encourage practice so as to refine one's presentation. That's fine with me, although in general when critiquing someone one ought to use language as precise as possible.

Second, one might be saying that there is a deeper problem, one of artistic impression; the artist is not being true to themself, and needs to better express their own voice. I will concede that sometimes this is because they are clearly trying to emulate some other person, and it is coming off as mere mimicry.

Much of the rest of the time, though, it strikes me as solipsistic bullshit. The next time you hear a critique of an artist in those terms, ask if you could replace all the appeals for authenticity with a mere declaration of taste. In other words, when Mia Michaels says of a dancer that they aren't being true to their own voice, she's really saying she doesn't like the dance. By implication, if the performance had been more genuine, it would have been to Mia Michaels' taste. Maybe they were being true to their own inner artist, you just didn't like it. Admit it, Mia--there are some honest voices that you don't care to hear, at least as far as dance is concerned. Would that be so terrible to concede, or must you flatter yourself into believing that you'll like anything so long as it's "genuine" enough for you?

It's a subtle but pernicious implication. "Be true to yourself" often means nothing more than "cater to my preferences"--which, of course, isn't authentic at all.

Colbert made a quip about the Jonas Brothers that was meant to imply that they had no soul in their music. I initially found myself agreeing, but I asked myself, how likely is a listener willing to describe a musician as having soul if they also didn't have talent? Imagine a talentless singer (guitar player, flutist, whatever) that really, really is in to the music--they mean every word they are singing. In the words of Hugh Grant from About a Boy, they are singing with their eyes closed. If they suck, would we say they had soul? Likely not.

Partially that's because soul in music doesn't just mean authenticity, but partly that's because we are unwilling to credit authenticity unless it's good. And that's fine. Authenticity is a lot like loyalty; it's not good in itself, as a rule. It's only definitely good when we know the object of the loyalty (Is loyalty to misogyny praiseworthy? Is authenticity to misanthropy laudable?).

I remember a mini-controversy when the news broke that Natalie Imbruglia hadn't written her hit single Torn. She had never said or implied that she had--people just thought she had, partially by virtue of the way she sang it. It's almost as though we hold singers to higher standards than the president; everyone knows that Obama doesn't write his speeches, but that doesn't stop people from swooning over his addresses.

Maybe the Jonas Brothers don't give two shits about music, theirs or anyone else's. But maybe they really care about the stuff they sing. Just because it's commercial doesn't mean that the artists are merely peddling a product. It brings to mind a scene from Six Feet Under; in a classic Alan Ball trick, he undermines truth by putting it in the words of a self-righteous prig when David Fisher upbraids a porn star for having had sex with men she didn't love. She responds by saying, "I loved every one of those men when I was fucking them."

I don't agree with that perspective, but neither do I think we should make assumptions about people's motivations on the basis of a couple of isolated acts (much less a performance or two). That was much the fatal flaw in the philosophies of Kierkegaard and Nietzsche, a couple of proto-existentialists. They each demanded that people be true to themselves and live free of lies and self-abnegation. Fair enough. But they then made (appallingly groundless) assumptions about what a true, authentic existence was. Kierkegaard concluded the only authentic existence was one of a particular brand of Christianity, whereas Nietzsche concluded that any belief in Christianity was obviously a life of self-imposed artificiality.

Authenticity can manifest in any form. One can even devote oneself to authentic self-abnegation, a seeming paradox. The only kind of authenticity or loyalty that I can think of that is worthwhile in itself is a moral one, where you devote yourself to your moral duties--but that's just another way of saying that morality is important.

So if you don't like a dancer, Mia, just say so. Don't imply that someone is being untrue to themselves or internally conflicted just because you didn't like the routine. That, and some dancers just suck, and are honest and true to their inner natures when they suck.

There's a scene in High Fidelity that I remember very well; John Cusack's character (a record store proprietor) says, "I will now sell five copies of The Three E.P.'s by The Beta Band." He proceeds to play a clip of Dry the Rain, and many of the patrons in the crowded store take notice. So did I at the time I first saw the movie--I thought the song sounded awesome, and I still do.

I bring this up because it is the last time I can distinctly remember the sense that there was media out there that I very much wanted, but it felt out of my reach. It is the last gasp of a sense that had permeated my pre-internet life; if something was on television, one had to watch it (possibly one could tape it on a VCR) or it was gone--gone forever. Maybe it would be re-run, but you would have to monitor the show in syndication (if the series was so lucky) just so you didn't miss it. I read that LA practically shut down during the airing of the Shogun mini-series. I can't blame them; had they so much as ventured out of ange of their TV sets, they had no basis to think they would ever be able to see those missed episodes.

I remember once a friend of mine started taping an episode of his wife`s favourite show a full five minutes into it, and she was furious on the grounds that she would never, ever see those five minutes. Brevity of those wasted minutes aside, I could understand her fury perfectly--she could never have completion. Music was much the same way--you`d have to scour record shops to find a rare or old album. To think of all the times I navigated music stores, trying to discern ridiculous organizational schemes (what genre is that artist according to the enlightened souls who run this smelly shop?) and then made to feel like a fool because I would have to sing the alphabet song in my head. Under what letter could one find "Weird" Al Yankovic (yes, I was young once)? You guessed it--sometimes W, sometimes Y, and sometimes A.

To a craver of narrative and an anal-retentive completist like myself, this was a period of terrible longing punctuated by the occasional exhilarating discovery.  

No longer! If I hear a song I like, I can own it in moments. Even if the piece of media exists only in tangible form (say, Norman Kemp-Smith's out-of-print translation of the Critique of Pure Reason), eBay or Amazon or Abe Books can find me a copy. If someone casually mentions almost any piece of media, for a nominal fee and/or a willingness to bend copyright law, it can be yours in moments.

That feeling that whatever media I want and can afford, I can get--is still in some ways alien to me. To be frank, I'm not sure I remember why I felt Dry the Rain was out of my reach--wasn't I reasonably proficient in the internet in 2000, the year High Fidelity was released? I don't know. Evidently I wasn't. My Google-fu is not strong and never has been.

To be sure, there are some things that occasionally elude me. NYPD Blue seasons 5-11 took me some years to track down, but I did (just to contradict myself a bit, thanks to syndication). By and large, though, that sensation I had when listening to Dry the Rain for the first time--that I was experiencing something great that was never to be repeated, a fleeting moment--is gone forever.

Some seem inclined to over-romaticize the difficult merely because it is difficult. I have heard some lament how almost everything is in relatively easy reach--as though one's appreciation of music, art, TV and media is better when one has access to less. I don't buy that. There might be other consequences of the digital age that are less positive (if music stores go bust I will miss the tactile experience of browsing the CD racks, for instance), but the sheer range of access I take to be unambiguously for the good.

I think I'll listen to The Three E.P.'s now.
...
Damn, that's a good song.