On lockdown -- well, on social distancing at least. Working from home, desperately looking for excuses to run to the grocery store or fill the gas tank or get out of the house for any reason at all. Right now, it looks like it'll be like this until May, at the soonest.
My retirement investment account screen has a little meter on it that moves from red to green depending on how well set I am for retirement. A couple of weeks ago it was barely in green, now it's gone far into red. Isn't that wonderful for someone who will turn 60 this year?
On the other hand, maybe I'll get stuff done -- chores, writing, etc. It remains to be seen whether I will be able to be productive. Trying to stay productive and busy is probably the best ambition to have right now.
[Movies] Flick Check: Oscars and Eye Rolls
[Books] Book Look: Spring Snow
[Covid19] Livin' in Coronatime
Sunday, April 05, 2020
[Movies] Flick Notes: Oscars and Eye Rolls
I used to watch movies all the time and keep up with all the new releases. I gave that up years ago because pretty much all movies were disappointing to me. None of them seemed to be saying or doing anything new. The bulk of them even fail as entertainment. But when you run out of things to do, well... Most of these got some sort of Oscar mentions.
Joker -- Everybody is talking about Jaoquin Phoenix's performance and rightly so. He's a phenomenal actor. The movie itself is gut punch after gut punch. There is no respite. It is brilliantly shot and structured. Visually stunning. It owes a debt to Taxi Driver, obviously. But theme-wise, it's another cruel-world-destroys-a-decent-man story. Nothing wrong with that, other than it makes me roll my eyes. As beautiful as the craftsmanship and acting was, it doesn't strike me as rewatchable.
Ford versus Ferrari -- This is a man's movie. That is to say all the major characters are men and it celebrates traditional masculine roles and attitudes. In that sense it is kin to movies such as The Right Stuff and Master and Commander. Christian Bale gets to play a goofy wildman. Matt Damon (whom I increasingly like) gets to play gruff and homespun. Theme-wise, it's another powerful-people-are-keeping-the-true-believer-down story. Nothing wrong with that, other than it makes me roll my eyes. But it is a lot of fun so it has a high probability of being a rewatch.
JoJo Rabbit -- Part delightful, part depressing. This kid Roman Griffin Davis is the one who should get the best actor award. It starts out to be an irreverent comedy about some Nazi youth in the last days of the Third Reich, if you can believe it, and it's brilliantly funny and touching, even considering the main kid has a goofy version of Adolf Hitler as his imaginary friend. But this is no Hogan's Heroes. We transition into finding a Jew hiding in an attic and a slow descent into tragedy and terror. Yet, oddly, it never feels like a beatdown. It never loses its sense of humor or the humanity of its characters, even the Nazis. A remarkable achievement. Of the movies I've seen lately it's the only one that seems fresh and original, even daring. It doesn't make me roll my eyes, but if I rewatch, I'll turn it off about half way.
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood -- Well, that was, um...interesting. The story of a fading Hollywood TV star and his friend and stunt double. They have various highly stylized adventures culminating in a re-imagining of the Manson family massacres, wherein the family, instead of committing the Tate-LaBianca murders, end up trying to kill the TV Star and his stuntman who end up killing the Manson crowd in a most gruesome manner. In a way, this is of a piece with Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds wherein a bunch of badass Jews demolish Nazis -- it's a fantasy of evil served justice that they didn't get in real life. Much could be made of Taratino's self-conscious view of Hollywood as a righteous fantasy machine, and I'm sure pretentious film reviewers will. If the ultimate statement of Once... is unclear, it is still beautifully shot, wonderfully acted, cleverly structured, and rife with points of nostalgia for someone my age, and often utterly mesmerizing. No eye roll. Likely rewatchable.
Icarus -- This won the Documentary Oscar a couple of years back. It is riveting. It begins with a very accomplished amateur cyclist (the documentarian) who decides to pursue a doping regime and document the process as an expose on the ineffectiveness of anti-doping measures. In the course of this he works with, and befriends, a legendary Russian doping master who had worked with Russian Olympic teams. The Russian takes advantage of the opportunity to become a whistleblower in the Russian Olympic doping scandal and things go from interesting to deadly serious as the highest levels of Russian politicians take umbrage and the stakes become mortal. Definitely recommended. Free on Netflix. No eye roll, but there is rarely a reason to rewatch a documentary, maybe doing further reading into the story counts as a rewatch.
Joker -- Everybody is talking about Jaoquin Phoenix's performance and rightly so. He's a phenomenal actor. The movie itself is gut punch after gut punch. There is no respite. It is brilliantly shot and structured. Visually stunning. It owes a debt to Taxi Driver, obviously. But theme-wise, it's another cruel-world-destroys-a-decent-man story. Nothing wrong with that, other than it makes me roll my eyes. As beautiful as the craftsmanship and acting was, it doesn't strike me as rewatchable.
Ford versus Ferrari -- This is a man's movie. That is to say all the major characters are men and it celebrates traditional masculine roles and attitudes. In that sense it is kin to movies such as The Right Stuff and Master and Commander. Christian Bale gets to play a goofy wildman. Matt Damon (whom I increasingly like) gets to play gruff and homespun. Theme-wise, it's another powerful-people-are-keeping-the-true-believer-down story. Nothing wrong with that, other than it makes me roll my eyes. But it is a lot of fun so it has a high probability of being a rewatch.
JoJo Rabbit -- Part delightful, part depressing. This kid Roman Griffin Davis is the one who should get the best actor award. It starts out to be an irreverent comedy about some Nazi youth in the last days of the Third Reich, if you can believe it, and it's brilliantly funny and touching, even considering the main kid has a goofy version of Adolf Hitler as his imaginary friend. But this is no Hogan's Heroes. We transition into finding a Jew hiding in an attic and a slow descent into tragedy and terror. Yet, oddly, it never feels like a beatdown. It never loses its sense of humor or the humanity of its characters, even the Nazis. A remarkable achievement. Of the movies I've seen lately it's the only one that seems fresh and original, even daring. It doesn't make me roll my eyes, but if I rewatch, I'll turn it off about half way.
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood -- Well, that was, um...interesting. The story of a fading Hollywood TV star and his friend and stunt double. They have various highly stylized adventures culminating in a re-imagining of the Manson family massacres, wherein the family, instead of committing the Tate-LaBianca murders, end up trying to kill the TV Star and his stuntman who end up killing the Manson crowd in a most gruesome manner. In a way, this is of a piece with Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds wherein a bunch of badass Jews demolish Nazis -- it's a fantasy of evil served justice that they didn't get in real life. Much could be made of Taratino's self-conscious view of Hollywood as a righteous fantasy machine, and I'm sure pretentious film reviewers will. If the ultimate statement of Once... is unclear, it is still beautifully shot, wonderfully acted, cleverly structured, and rife with points of nostalgia for someone my age, and often utterly mesmerizing. No eye roll. Likely rewatchable.
Icarus -- This won the Documentary Oscar a couple of years back. It is riveting. It begins with a very accomplished amateur cyclist (the documentarian) who decides to pursue a doping regime and document the process as an expose on the ineffectiveness of anti-doping measures. In the course of this he works with, and befriends, a legendary Russian doping master who had worked with Russian Olympic teams. The Russian takes advantage of the opportunity to become a whistleblower in the Russian Olympic doping scandal and things go from interesting to deadly serious as the highest levels of Russian politicians take umbrage and the stakes become mortal. Definitely recommended. Free on Netflix. No eye roll, but there is rarely a reason to rewatch a documentary, maybe doing further reading into the story counts as a rewatch.
[Books] Book Look: Spring Snow by Yukio Mishima
Book Look: Spring Snow by Yukio Mishima
Mishima is a controversial character, partly because many on what is glibly called the "alt-right" have taken him as a bit of a role model. I leave it as an exercise for the reader if you want to read up on him. Like many reactionaries (that's not a dirty word to me, it's just an accurate description), Mishima looks back to a romanticized time of beauty, valor, and purpose. I am highly skeptical of that since I am old enough to remember a time that some folks think of as romantically idealized and it was no such thing.
Spring Snow is the first of a tetralogy of novels that Mishima meant to be his crowning glory; a sweeping overview of the changes in Japan over the course of a half a century, placing personal stories in the context of the sociopolitical. Authors have tried this many times, usually via a multi-generational family saga. Mishima attempts it by following a single character and his encounters throughout his life with a reincarnated friend who always dies before his/her twentieth birthday. The first death is in Spring Snow and each subsequent novel is a reincarnation.
Spring Snow centers around Kiyo, a diffident, detached, spoiled, 19-year-old son of a "new money" family scion. Kiyo's world is noticeably divided between fashionable attraction for western culture and the traditional imperial worship culture. Also in this mix we have Satoko, the beautiful daughter of a generations-old legitimately aristocratic family, though now fallen on hard times. The new-money and old-blood families have a symbiotic connection for the sake of each other's status. The son and daughter have a great attraction to one another in the juvenile manner of antagonizing each other and denying their feelings. At a time when they are bickering and distant, Satoko finds herself betrothed to a crown prince -- a relative of the Emperor. Like a child demanding a previously ignored toy once it is taken away, Kiyo sees the truth of his feelings and desperately desires her. They begin an illicit affair, cuckolding the crown prince. More star-crossed they could not be.
When Satoko becomes pregnant their affair is discovered. The public exposure of such wanton illicit behavior would be an insult to the Emperor himself and effectively the end of both families, at least as far as their status went. All the bitterness between the two families comes out, but they succeed in minimizing the damage and saving face, though they must scramble, connive, bribe, and lie to do it. In the course of things Satoko gets an abortion and enters a nunnery, never to see Kiyo again. Kiyo's soul is lost, he cannot return to his previous life. He attempts to see Satoko at the nunnery but is denied and falls ill from waiting for her in the cold weather and dies. As I alluded, it's all very tragically Shakespearean.
Throughout it all Mishima bends the narrative to hint at the lost qualities of the past in the face of what might be called cultural progress. In Spring Snow these are fairly subtle and more along the lines of s minor lament for those losses without outright condemnation of the present. My understanding is that this changes in the sequels.
Should you read Spring Snow? It is slow, especially at the start. Mishima does not subscribe to the "grab the reader's attention quickly" philosophy. He writes with a languid elegance that matches well with the overly formal era he is describing. He is absolutely not one to tell a joke. Aesthetics, sensuality, and romanticism dominate his approach. Not a blade of grass flutters without an ornate description. But, if he builds his story and characters slowly, he builds them with care and depth. There were a couple of times during the early chapters when I suspected he was going nowhere with this and nearly gave up, but by the middle of the book I was fully invested. Still, it is for the patient reader (but we all have time these days, don't we?) who has an appreciation of nuance and quiet action. In that sense, it is like Mishima himself: better suited for an earlier time. I am on the fence as to whether to dive into the remaining three novels.
Mishima is a controversial character, partly because many on what is glibly called the "alt-right" have taken him as a bit of a role model. I leave it as an exercise for the reader if you want to read up on him. Like many reactionaries (that's not a dirty word to me, it's just an accurate description), Mishima looks back to a romanticized time of beauty, valor, and purpose. I am highly skeptical of that since I am old enough to remember a time that some folks think of as romantically idealized and it was no such thing.
Spring Snow is the first of a tetralogy of novels that Mishima meant to be his crowning glory; a sweeping overview of the changes in Japan over the course of a half a century, placing personal stories in the context of the sociopolitical. Authors have tried this many times, usually via a multi-generational family saga. Mishima attempts it by following a single character and his encounters throughout his life with a reincarnated friend who always dies before his/her twentieth birthday. The first death is in Spring Snow and each subsequent novel is a reincarnation.
Spring Snow centers around Kiyo, a diffident, detached, spoiled, 19-year-old son of a "new money" family scion. Kiyo's world is noticeably divided between fashionable attraction for western culture and the traditional imperial worship culture. Also in this mix we have Satoko, the beautiful daughter of a generations-old legitimately aristocratic family, though now fallen on hard times. The new-money and old-blood families have a symbiotic connection for the sake of each other's status. The son and daughter have a great attraction to one another in the juvenile manner of antagonizing each other and denying their feelings. At a time when they are bickering and distant, Satoko finds herself betrothed to a crown prince -- a relative of the Emperor. Like a child demanding a previously ignored toy once it is taken away, Kiyo sees the truth of his feelings and desperately desires her. They begin an illicit affair, cuckolding the crown prince. More star-crossed they could not be.
When Satoko becomes pregnant their affair is discovered. The public exposure of such wanton illicit behavior would be an insult to the Emperor himself and effectively the end of both families, at least as far as their status went. All the bitterness between the two families comes out, but they succeed in minimizing the damage and saving face, though they must scramble, connive, bribe, and lie to do it. In the course of things Satoko gets an abortion and enters a nunnery, never to see Kiyo again. Kiyo's soul is lost, he cannot return to his previous life. He attempts to see Satoko at the nunnery but is denied and falls ill from waiting for her in the cold weather and dies. As I alluded, it's all very tragically Shakespearean.
Throughout it all Mishima bends the narrative to hint at the lost qualities of the past in the face of what might be called cultural progress. In Spring Snow these are fairly subtle and more along the lines of s minor lament for those losses without outright condemnation of the present. My understanding is that this changes in the sequels.
Should you read Spring Snow? It is slow, especially at the start. Mishima does not subscribe to the "grab the reader's attention quickly" philosophy. He writes with a languid elegance that matches well with the overly formal era he is describing. He is absolutely not one to tell a joke. Aesthetics, sensuality, and romanticism dominate his approach. Not a blade of grass flutters without an ornate description. But, if he builds his story and characters slowly, he builds them with care and depth. There were a couple of times during the early chapters when I suspected he was going nowhere with this and nearly gave up, but by the middle of the book I was fully invested. Still, it is for the patient reader (but we all have time these days, don't we?) who has an appreciation of nuance and quiet action. In that sense, it is like Mishima himself: better suited for an earlier time. I am on the fence as to whether to dive into the remaining three novels.
[Covid19] Livin' in Coronatime
Well the initial shock is over. I've figured out how to work from home. Food is not a problem. I'm one of those guys who buys toilet paper and paper towels in bulk so I was fully stocked before it started. I can't find sanitizing wipes so those are being used measuredly. The biggest hurt is seeing my retirement savings go from enjoy-the-good-life to think-about-downsizing.
I still have my job and I should be one of the last to go if layoffs start. A while ago my company started contracting for developers rather than hiring full-time employees. You would hope the contractors go first if things get bad. That's kind of the point. I resisted the move to contractors originally, but now I am chastised.
I am absolutely one of the lucky ones. My biggest problem for now is not being able to go to the gym.
I'm left to question what the future holds. Short term we have at least a month more on lockdown. Detroit is in a bad way and so anywhere nearby will probably suffer along with it as far as ongoing restrictions. Honestly, if Michigan lags anywhere in the country in returning to normal, I plan to hop a plane to Normalsville ASAP. All I need is a wifi connection.
It's the uncertainty and lack of control that induces anxiety, and uncertainty and lack of control is pretty much all we have now. The only thing that would help at this point would be knowing the endgame, which nobody knows. So I might as well spill my expectations since they are as good as anyone's.
I think before it's all said and done, about half the population can count on getting infected, but I want to be careful with statistics. Right now folks are putting the death rate at a little over 2% of the infected. So if half the population gets it that means 1% of the population will die, right (3.5 million in the U.S.)? Well, no. Right now that 2+% is based on the the number of people who were sick enough, and lucky enough, to be tested. We have no idea how many people have been infected as it is generally accepted that for most people this could be passed off as a mild cold, and that many are asymptomatic entirely. So, no, I don't think 1% of the population will die from this. The Oxford Centre for Evidence-based Medicine now estimates somewhere between .1% and .26%. That's optimistic, I think (but so am I). It's still a huge number, though. If I am right about half the population getting infected, that still calcs out to about 400,000 fatalities in the U.S. Roughly the same as WW2, or about 12 years of annual traffic deaths.
Another gut punch is that we may not be able to do anything about it beyond some minor mitigation. Once someone is sick enough to need urgent hospitalization (read: a ventilator), I have seen 10-30% chances of survival statistics, even if they get the care and equipment they need. Most of us don't need to panic for our own sake. The bulk of the fatalities will be for the elderly and health compromised. Even so, the bulk of us should brace for potential loss of family or friends. Barring the discovery of an effective treatment or a vaccine, all the social distancing in the world will just smooth the pain. Uncertainty and lack of control.
No one has ever successfully created a vaccine for a coronavirus (the flu is not a coronavirus). That sounds bad, but it's not 1918, or even 2002 anymore. This virus has had its genetic structure turned inside out in every way imaginable. Bill Gates and others have thrown billions at the problem. If it is possible to find a vaccine quickly, someone will, but I don't think the odds are with it. That's not to say some treatment won't be found to mitigate the symptoms and enable more recoveries. We have other new weapons in our arsenal such as 3-D printing respirator parts, near instant and constant communication, fewer lifelong smokers, and better hygiene policies in general. And we still have a potential arrow in our quiver called variolation. Variolation is when you infect likely survivors (volunteers, of course) with a very mild dose of the virus; just enough to develop immunity without inordinate risk of fatality. This was used effectively against smallpox as long ago as the 1700s. You build up enough immunity across the population to effectively drop the wildfire like spread of the virus if not stop it outright. Socio-politically we aren't there although I wonder if we should be.
Anyway, I expect to get it. I don't expect to die. And I really hope taking good care of myself physically over all these years has paid off in a comparatively strong immune system for a 59-year-old. (59 and a half, but who's counting?) That is the story I'm sticking to, anyway.
But what is the process for getting the world back to normal? Well, the federal government has offered guidelines which, as I read them, roughly come down to "If you go two weeks without an increase in the death rate, then you can think about gradually easing restrictions." Sounds reasonable and fairly neutral -- it doesn't make any reference to plans and schemes, it just looks to see if whatever you are doing is working. It does leave open the question of neighboring geography. If Detroit remains a hotspot but the rest of Michigan is under control, how long should Mackinac Island remain closed? Or if Indiana eases restrictions will there be mass visitation from the Chicago or Cinicinnati or Louisville that knocks them back down? These are going to be tricky decisions that have to be made with talking heads on the news shows trying to trap and embarrass the decision makers, typing hands on social media screeching about epic fails everywhere, and dirt-bag lawyers looking for any angle for a class action case.
I suspect we'll get back to normal when people fear the restrictions more than the virus. Right now there is a broad sense of community and urge to sacrifice for the common good. That will slowly dwindle as the unemployment rolls grow and economic recovery slips further and further into the future. A good clue will be what happens when white collar workers (like me) start to get laid off en masse. A lot of righteous tunes will change and suddenly the opinion that these restrictions may not be the panacea they are cracked up to be will start to gain prominence.
So I have no great insights or answers. I can build narratives where everything works out great and also where it doesn't, and I have no idea which is right. One thing I am reading here and there is how, once this is over, people will be a lot more grateful for their everyday lives. Not me. If there is one behavior I have been able to practice in recent decades it is gratitude for what I have. At least, that leaves me with no regrets about not appreciating my life before the plague. I am grateful for my gratitude.
One last thought on looking ahead: Many people are looking to the 1918 flu pandemic as a comparable. I don't know how accurate that is. It's a very different world. But I will point out that what followed that plague was 9 years of one of the greatest booms in history called The Roaring Twenties. That roar went far beyond just the economy. Once we get through this, things could get lit up in here, is what I'm saying.
I still have my job and I should be one of the last to go if layoffs start. A while ago my company started contracting for developers rather than hiring full-time employees. You would hope the contractors go first if things get bad. That's kind of the point. I resisted the move to contractors originally, but now I am chastised.
I am absolutely one of the lucky ones. My biggest problem for now is not being able to go to the gym.
I'm left to question what the future holds. Short term we have at least a month more on lockdown. Detroit is in a bad way and so anywhere nearby will probably suffer along with it as far as ongoing restrictions. Honestly, if Michigan lags anywhere in the country in returning to normal, I plan to hop a plane to Normalsville ASAP. All I need is a wifi connection.
It's the uncertainty and lack of control that induces anxiety, and uncertainty and lack of control is pretty much all we have now. The only thing that would help at this point would be knowing the endgame, which nobody knows. So I might as well spill my expectations since they are as good as anyone's.
I think before it's all said and done, about half the population can count on getting infected, but I want to be careful with statistics. Right now folks are putting the death rate at a little over 2% of the infected. So if half the population gets it that means 1% of the population will die, right (3.5 million in the U.S.)? Well, no. Right now that 2+% is based on the the number of people who were sick enough, and lucky enough, to be tested. We have no idea how many people have been infected as it is generally accepted that for most people this could be passed off as a mild cold, and that many are asymptomatic entirely. So, no, I don't think 1% of the population will die from this. The Oxford Centre for Evidence-based Medicine now estimates somewhere between .1% and .26%. That's optimistic, I think (but so am I). It's still a huge number, though. If I am right about half the population getting infected, that still calcs out to about 400,000 fatalities in the U.S. Roughly the same as WW2, or about 12 years of annual traffic deaths.
Another gut punch is that we may not be able to do anything about it beyond some minor mitigation. Once someone is sick enough to need urgent hospitalization (read: a ventilator), I have seen 10-30% chances of survival statistics, even if they get the care and equipment they need. Most of us don't need to panic for our own sake. The bulk of the fatalities will be for the elderly and health compromised. Even so, the bulk of us should brace for potential loss of family or friends. Barring the discovery of an effective treatment or a vaccine, all the social distancing in the world will just smooth the pain. Uncertainty and lack of control.
No one has ever successfully created a vaccine for a coronavirus (the flu is not a coronavirus). That sounds bad, but it's not 1918, or even 2002 anymore. This virus has had its genetic structure turned inside out in every way imaginable. Bill Gates and others have thrown billions at the problem. If it is possible to find a vaccine quickly, someone will, but I don't think the odds are with it. That's not to say some treatment won't be found to mitigate the symptoms and enable more recoveries. We have other new weapons in our arsenal such as 3-D printing respirator parts, near instant and constant communication, fewer lifelong smokers, and better hygiene policies in general. And we still have a potential arrow in our quiver called variolation. Variolation is when you infect likely survivors (volunteers, of course) with a very mild dose of the virus; just enough to develop immunity without inordinate risk of fatality. This was used effectively against smallpox as long ago as the 1700s. You build up enough immunity across the population to effectively drop the wildfire like spread of the virus if not stop it outright. Socio-politically we aren't there although I wonder if we should be.
Anyway, I expect to get it. I don't expect to die. And I really hope taking good care of myself physically over all these years has paid off in a comparatively strong immune system for a 59-year-old. (59 and a half, but who's counting?) That is the story I'm sticking to, anyway.
But what is the process for getting the world back to normal? Well, the federal government has offered guidelines which, as I read them, roughly come down to "If you go two weeks without an increase in the death rate, then you can think about gradually easing restrictions." Sounds reasonable and fairly neutral -- it doesn't make any reference to plans and schemes, it just looks to see if whatever you are doing is working. It does leave open the question of neighboring geography. If Detroit remains a hotspot but the rest of Michigan is under control, how long should Mackinac Island remain closed? Or if Indiana eases restrictions will there be mass visitation from the Chicago or Cinicinnati or Louisville that knocks them back down? These are going to be tricky decisions that have to be made with talking heads on the news shows trying to trap and embarrass the decision makers, typing hands on social media screeching about epic fails everywhere, and dirt-bag lawyers looking for any angle for a class action case.
I suspect we'll get back to normal when people fear the restrictions more than the virus. Right now there is a broad sense of community and urge to sacrifice for the common good. That will slowly dwindle as the unemployment rolls grow and economic recovery slips further and further into the future. A good clue will be what happens when white collar workers (like me) start to get laid off en masse. A lot of righteous tunes will change and suddenly the opinion that these restrictions may not be the panacea they are cracked up to be will start to gain prominence.
So I have no great insights or answers. I can build narratives where everything works out great and also where it doesn't, and I have no idea which is right. One thing I am reading here and there is how, once this is over, people will be a lot more grateful for their everyday lives. Not me. If there is one behavior I have been able to practice in recent decades it is gratitude for what I have. At least, that leaves me with no regrets about not appreciating my life before the plague. I am grateful for my gratitude.
One last thought on looking ahead: Many people are looking to the 1918 flu pandemic as a comparable. I don't know how accurate that is. It's a very different world. But I will point out that what followed that plague was 9 years of one of the greatest booms in history called The Roaring Twenties. That roar went far beyond just the economy. Once we get through this, things could get lit up in here, is what I'm saying.
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