Game of Thrones

~October-December 2023

I have no idea what people are talking about. For the final season I've only ever heard criticism or disappointment. I was bracing for everyone I hate killing everyone I love; Cersei smirking as Jon's severed head hits the dust. Actually, that expectation came only after the northern war was won; before that, I just braced for endless night. Indeed, the last two seasons repeatedly defied my doubt until I knew I was home free: even if all my heroes died, I wouldn't have to live long without them. And they didn't! Game of Thrones has a happy ending! What's the fuss?

Some of the ending was disappointing, but endings are almost always bittersweet. Life is bittersweet. I wanted an Aragorn end for Jon. I got a Frodo end; same for Arya. It makes sense for the fellowship to end, to give the audience some bittersweet closure. But I hoped for an ending where all Starks reside together forever, savoring love and family to their last days, and that's enough, after all of the hatred they endured. In reality Jon falls to relative insignificance, which is sad, but not a bad life for him with Tormund in the North and a dire wolf at his side. There's only one person in Westeros arguably as significant as Jon -- memory of the world -- and he's king, comfortably concluding our game of thrones. In all bittersweet life, this is a good ending.

1. Ned, Jon
2. Arya
3. Tyrion, Sansa, Bran, the dire wolves
4. Davos, Samwell, Brienne, Gendry, Robb, Jaime, the dragons
5. Olenna, Theon, Jorah, The Hound, Catelyn, Pod
6. Varys, Bronn, Tormund, Robert, Grey Worm
7. Oberyn, Stannis
8. Alliser, Baelish, Margaery, Drogo, the red woman
9. Cersei, Euron, Tywin, Walder Frey, Roose Bolton
10. Joffrey, Ramsay

Daenerys?

I wonder if Daenerys is the most polarizing character. I have no idea, I haven't read or heard about it, but her fall may explain some of the final season's reputation? I always loved the Starks far more than her. I rooted for her to make an impact, to cull the khals, to vie for Westeros at the last, but not to win. Her arc was necessary and thrilling (thrilling on the whole; far from thrilling in those middle seasons): torchbearer of the grandest dynasty, girl with a moral compass strong-arming crooked kingdoms. I wanted her to succeed, and I wanted her to humble. She humbled in the North, but in the end, against all advice and every beloved character, her arrogance destroyed her. Tyrion is right: if you truly believed your destiny was to break the wheel for future centuries, would you act otherwise? I understand conviction to misguided beliefs; there's a virtue in there somewhere; I lived like that; billions do; I think I empathize exceptionally with this. But Daenerys' mistake was fatal, for her and her reputation as a character. Besides all of this, I simply never loved her. Since she tasted power in S1 she always had an arrogant flair. Her tender moments were laced with self-importance like Jon's never were. Her firm moments were ruthless. You could argue I was uncomfortable with her feminine strength, but she was hard and proud in ways Jon and Sansa never were. You could argue that's necessary for an ambitious woman in Westeros. Maybe. Maybe she would have broken the wheel and made a better world. Maybe I also just don't like the actor's performance. I never believed her soft moments. I don't think I ever felt sorry for her after the first few episodes of the series. How can she be so hard as never to evoke pity? The acting plays a role here. In any case she was never really my type. I loved her arc from slave sister to khaleesi to setting her sights on Westeros, and I love the dynastic current, and the dragons, but for the last seven seasons I can't say I actually liked her very much.

Emotional lows:

1. Ned's death
2. Jon's death for consequence, the red wedding for utter sadness and brutality
3. Shireen's death (they made us hear the screams), Sansa's rape (they made us hear the screams)
4. any dire wolf dying

The dire wolves were all unrealized potential for me. They were some of my favorite characters. As far as I knew there were precious few left on Earth, Stark symbols, and they kept dying. This was almost as depressing as my favorite characters dying. After the first dire wolf death, the show dealt lightly with them. I'm not a raving dog person, but I really would have liked more dire wolf. Maybe I'm a wolf person.

Season ranking:

1. 1, 6, 7, 8: contains most of the rising action and climax of the series
2. 2, 3, 4, 5: consumed by subplots bleak or tedious, foundering in S1's aftermath

Ignoring narrative for a moment, I really liked Game of Thrones. It's an auspicious genre for me. I like epics and I like history. I didn't need some of the magic -- it felt silly and convenient -- but I don't mind a little fantasy with the epic, especially when the fantasy is consistent. While GoT wasn't always consistent in fantasy, it was consistent in tone. As far as I remember the earlier seasons, tone stayed remarkably true in visuals, music, and writing. I liked the music: an effective theme song, good motif work, vastly minor, rarely cheesy. The dialogue flirted with cheese all along, though I'm used to it after Lord of the Rings and almost all popular media, and it stayed moderate. The story-spinning was impressive; I assume we thank Martin for 90+% of that. As far as special effects, I didn't know TV got this good. GoT is a little sensationalist but overall I consider it a technical victory in quality television, again, ignoring narrative.

Including narrative: 3/4, using the same standards as movies. It was always entertaining and skillful, even when misguided and miserable. Note: I've never seen TV that competes with the best movies.

Edit: I guess some people are disappointed by the final season's brevity. I can see that, if it's 2019 and you've waited a while and you're dedicated. I was anxious for the show to end, for various reasons. The brevity relieved me more than it disappointed me. As for accusations of poor writing, I didn't notice. I can see some feminist arguments, although I maintain Daenerys was never my queen.

See comments here: https://andrewtalksaboutmoviesetc.blogspot.com/2023/12/game-of-thrones-s6-22.html

People seem to like the middle seasons. The end of S1 damned me to 4.5 seasons of nihilism, for which the show offered no life preserver, until some successes and reunions in S6. Between Ned's fall and Jon's resurrection I was lost.

Game of Thrones S6 (2/2)

Best season since S1; best season ending yet. I have no faith this pleasure will last, but any pleasure buoys this miserable foundering. Nor am I ashamed to conflate pleasure and quality in this case. Game of Thrones needed it.

Game of Thrones S6 (1/2)

(I'm only halfway through)

We have a victory. Jon and Sansa's reunion was the best feeling in a long time, which isn't saying much.

As far as reasons for continuing: my heart would be in it for the Starks, but since I know that's futile, my mind's in it purely for curiosity. I don't want to live wondering.

Time is running out for any satisfying conclusion. With 2.5 seasons left, nothing is shaping up as I'd hoped. I wanted time to savor each state. Instead, everything shifts, nothing gold can stay, quaternary subplots consume precious screen time. It stays entertaining, not satisfying, not lovable, not really enjoyable. When something moves in a direction I like, it's quickly obliterated.

Game of Thrones S5

What a miserable show. I've been justifying it with my mild infrequent regret at how I handled Lost, and with a YOLO nihilism. Neither would matter if it weren't entertaining. It is. But I hardly like it anymore. At this point it's a 3-star-out-of-5 show that's sucking up my evenings, and I still have three seasons left.

I still admire certain elements, and it's still engaging. But it's miserable.

Nearly every season finale has tempted me to quit. What a luxurious life I live, that I can indulge something of such little worth with such feeble justification. If anything important came up (family dying) I tell myself I'd abandon Game of Thrones in a heartbeat and never look back. But life is important all around me, and I'm watching Game of Thrones instead.

On the other hand, this is what I want, and life is short, and who cares?

Anyway it's been quite an experiment for me.

In a given episode I get maybe one good feeling inside of me. The other 50 minutes are tedious or brutal.

But the narrative is still expertly spun.

Audience: "we need redemption for X character. This is too horrible, too hopeless."

Writers: "rape X character and burn alive. Make sure the audience hears the screams."

Game of Thrones S4

Finally, some victories for some likable characters. It's like they realized after four seasons what The Office realized after one: we shouldn't make the entire show miserable. We need some counter-tension.

Are the devastating deaths finally paying off through these recent victories? Maybe these victories shine a little brighter against that night. But we're still numb.

I haven't found my new hero since season 1. Tyrion is highly sympathetic, not quite heroic. Daenerys is proud. Jon is budding but bland -- maybe that's why the other characters call him Jon Snore. Jaime's competence went with his right hand, and he's barely shedding his deplorable past. Arya may be the best I've got, considering Joffrey, my favorite character, died.

Game of Thrones S3

Like S2, everything felt secondary; like S1, it dealt a painful penultimate.

Pros:

• I enjoy the show
• I respect certain elements

Cons:

• it's cheesy
• it's depressing

Devastation and death aren't sufficient to call it depressing: it's the void where the heart should be. It's orbiting a black hole. It's the aimlessness we avoid by establishing an ego and protecting it. Game of Thrones doesn't protect it. I appreciate the honesty, but I would rather protect it.

Game of Thrones S2

Season 2 was disappointing. I never recovered from the second to last episode of Season 1. I still see him as the heart of the show; everyone else is amusing; he's the emotional core. Maybe they killed him to teach us fear, to make other characters' lives more precious. It did exactly the opposite for me. I learned life isn't precious; I hardened. Any character can drop tomorrow, so we should cherish what we have without fearing the loss. But what is there to cherish without him? Other characters are ignoble or uninteresting. I could see some blossoming in the coming seasons, but Season 2 was really a recoil from the aforementioned episode -- as no one filled the emotional hole it continued to callous. Not as many major characters dropped as in Season 1, but not as many seized center stage either. The entire season felt like subplots.

The first few episodes of Season 1 were stunning to me; the rest of the season disappointed or devastated those expectations; Season 2 didn't bounce back.

Game of Thrones S1

Around 2015 I watched the first episode. Some months ago I watched the first three. I was hooked, like I never am with TV, and I wouldn't let myself continue. Now, winter coming, I caved. That my season matched the show's was a coincidence: I think this is just my season for escapism, and maybe some broader season of my life spurred me on. Whatever it was, Game of Thrones haunted me and I craved something like it to match my season -- primarily it itself.

The first three episodes passed as remembered: excellent development. The next few were rushed. Meaningful things passed too fast to process. Storylines I cherished pivoted like they were penultimate to the season ending, but this was mid-season when I still needed to be building my understanding. I needed to comprehend the context, then relish the pivot, then process the consequences. I know Game of Thrones is brutal on the viewer; more on that later. The mid-season kept pulling the rug from under me; maybe this feels honest and satisfying to the writers, but it ruined the investment I'd built in the show. Which seems counterproductive for showrunners.

Then there are the last two episodes, escalating the trend. So much of my dear investment ripped out. What can propel me to next season if not the Stark arc with Ned at the helm? He was the heart. And that's not the only curtain rent. Several deaths felt like hasty anticlimax, ruining anticipative arcs. I can imagine a theory there that I respect: fidelity to history or to the novel, maybe deliberate destruction of the viewer's micro-expectations to divert their attention to greater arcs. But it objectively damped my excitement for season 2, which I may now avoid without too much fuss.

Was it worthwhile to the writers? I understand sacrifice of core elements for a higher cause, but it happened repeatedly and, more importantly, too fast. One gives up. They may have lost my viewership for it.

What could keep me on? No house's struggle. Just two things: winter and dragons. The lord at the wall was right: when winter comes it won't matter who's on the throne. That's a stark symbol for our own lives.

Ideas that struck me:

• trusty right-hand man
• sense of home in Winterfell
• loyalty to family and country
• it all ends

Fight for family and honor, but don't expect it to last. Relish beauty; expect transience.

Recent music

Slow Train Coming, Saved, Shot of Love (Bob Dylan): It was a tough few years, yet capped by a decent album in Shot of Love. I like a good half of that album.

Bach's Cello Suites (Yo-Yo Ma): In a world hooked on hooks, I can see why people nevertheless know Yo-Yo Ma and the cello suites. Was anything sophisticated ever so sunny? It's a balm.

Birds in the Trap, Astroworld, Utopia (Travis Scott): I like the sound, but as far as I can tell there's nothing unique about it. I'm pretty easy to please as far as hip hop, though hard to impress. I can enjoy most hip hop as a soundtrack to any slice of life, but usually I listen to music with more focus, and Travis Scott doesn't satisfy such scrutiny. His sound could elevate many an activity though.

Bach's Goldberg Variations (Glenn Gould): This is perfect for me. What a blend of logic and feeling, purely distilled onto the piano.

Bach's Brandenburg Concertos (directed by Benjamin Britten): as a primarily solo performer throughout my life, I can empathize much better with Glenn Gould's and Yo-Yo Ma's solo performances above. I have less appreciation for good orchestration and good orchestras. It sounded more like cheesy baroque to me. But it's a consummate confrontation of the period that I should revisit.

Midsommar

2.5/4

Everything before Sweden impressed me. It was brutal and real. But gimmicks trickled in. Some were spectacular, some cheesy. I haven't seen much horror, but I think I can spot some cliches. The writing was not the strong suit. The atmosphere was better, but even that flattened toward anti-climax. I was nervous coming into the movie. It actually disappointed me a little, wasn't as disturbing as I expected. And the end was unsatisfying. Maybe if that were her first smile in a while, or under saner circumstances, I'd believe she felt a modicum of happiness and that it wasn't just the helpless trauma smiling. I'd feel victorious with her. But there's nothing left for her. The smile doesn't imply relief or acceptance or happiness. It's arbitrary, like her smile during the drugged dance. Not only is the ending desolate of joy, it's not even that intense. The film peaked early. I stayed immersed but less impressed.

I hate the Mark character, not just as a character but as a work of screenwriting. Elements like that reminded me horror is not known for its artistic maturity, and despite some inspired visuals this movie doesn't stray far enough.

Pugh is awesome. I expected more torture of her, which would have been gruesome, given her ability to coax empathy. It would have intensified the movie, though we all would have been miserable. Aster keeps her torture emotional, normal, which is still tough, at least for a while, but at a certain point I stop buying her emotional turmoil, like when she sees Christian through the keyhole. She must have hardened by now. Physical torture to her on top of the emotional would have made the movie hard to bear, but that's the intensity I expected. The actual intensity, paired with some mediocre writing, offset some beautiful style.

Inherent Vice

Magnolia

There Will Be Blood

Punch-Drunk Love, The Master, Phantom Thread

Boogie Nights, Inherent Vice, Licorice Pizza

Inherent Vice was one of the least interesting PTA movies, but (as usual) expertly made. Maybe if I'd followed the plot better I would have been more interested. As is it was all style for me. I liked the cheesy noir, just not enough to prop the entire movie without a penetrating plot. The plot was quick and nonchalant so I breezed it.

Tenet

8/20/23 on a plane

For all of that plot, no story. Gimmick premise, noisy plot, no characters. SparkNotes sci-fi.

I hardly tried to follow. It felt senseless.

Zero charisma from protagonist, or any characters? Physics even cheesier than normal.

My Nolan preferences:

1. Interstellar
2. The Dark Knight
3. Batman Begins
4. The Dark Knight Rises
5. Oppenheimer
6. Tenet

I haven't seen Memento, Inception, or The Prestige in many years.

A few years ago, high on Interstellar, with positive Batman memories, friends raving of Memento, figuring Inception deserved another chance, I thought highly of Nolan. But recently everything in the above enumeration disappointed except Interstellar.

Dune

8/20/23 on a plane

I assumed it'd be as dry and monochromatic as it looks. It was a well-rounded action movie.

Without knowing the second act I sense it deserves more than two movies. How can this world-building and story-building pay off in two movies?

It isn't novel, but a strong incarnation, precisely executed to film. It thrills like Hollywood without watering down like Hollywood. It's bleak without relief. You're walking a moral desert, but you're holding a compass. Something pulls you.

The Catcher in the Rye

Written 2020 or 2021

Aaron -- I think he said Holden overanalyzes everything. I said I liked it but I didn't know why, it didn't have a plot. Aaron said the plot is he's in the asylum... We talked about it in the computer lab, must have been 8th grade. I expected it would be about Lennon's murder.

I think I read it twice -- 8th grade and 9th? I recall laughing aloud and much when some man caresses him while he's sleeping...? I recall the football game, the old eye at the club, a carousel, "phony",... graffiti at the school

Sometimes he overgeneralizes (obvious) and sometimes he's exceedingly specific ("you don't even care if a girl keeps her kings in the back row")

I have finished now. Why didn't I own this book?? I may have been afraid of it. It was mystical to me -- it had mystical power and presence, originally. I forgot about it for years, or feared it! It makes little rational sense I kept such distance. I was afraid -- like afraid to rewatch Synecdoche, or hear Bob, but this is even deeper-recessed. This is 8th and 9th grade, Aaron who left me, the very first rumors of higher intelligence, emotion, awareness -- which all felt mystical, like new frightening powerful alien forms of being. I was transforming, and Catcher represented this new alien power. It was contact with alien being. So I feared and revered the book. I blocked it out. Shame.

Imperative is his attempt at preserving childlike purity, innocence, authenticity, goodness. Kids are "nice" to him. Quaint changeless things are "nice". I'm not sure whether this comes first, or second to another imperative: Allie. He wants to save Allie from dying, and/or aging. He's afraid of the world aging, changing, complicating, withering? Children, purity, Allie, changelessness, authenticity, innocence

He never contacts Jane in the book, though he seems to love her. He's afraid she's changed and corrupted?

Greatest offenses: "fuck you" at an elementary school to corrupt/age kids; Stradlater corrupting/aging Jane through sex -- these are his most violent moments. Stradlater probably offends his ideas of purity, youth, immutability, more than Jane. It may take till the last "I wasn't in the mood to give Jane a buzz" for readers to realize Jane herself is not the important theme in that narrative.

Children are not phonies -- children are authentic, interesting, pure,... Why does he hate phonies? Not as much as he hates impurity though. Phonies annoy him. He does hate them though. But then he might miss them... or is that just more authentic folk? (Stradlater, Ackley, Maurice)...

A carousel goes around repeatedly forever, and it symbolizes youth. If Phoebe goes on it, then she's still young, and will be forever. But she won't be.

The book frightened me because it represented an alien, higher form of consciousness, which I knew not but could just see. Now Holden is immature in many ways -- though still very profound. He's emotional -- an extremely sensitive emotional soul. But his instincts are penetrating, in human behavior especially. Like Bill...

Holden loves Allie, Phoebe as a child, Jane as a child, the museum when he was a child... I think he doesn't enter the museum for the same reason he doesn't call Jane: he's gotten cynical about any purity and job left. It may only be preserved in his memory now, and he fears that extinction.

Stradlater challenges the memory of pure Jane, and Holden wants to kill him. Same with Phoebe trying to leave with Holden?

Is this book all about his preserving youth, purity, innocence? Why write this book so orbiting children? What was Salinger's fixation on children? -- So it's seemingly not a book about introversion, intellectuals, even phonies really. Children are more central. Or Allie?

I mostly thought phonies and introverted intellectual when I last read it. Now I think children, Allie, purity, innocence, authenticity.

Jane seems beautiful, but she has probably withered. Phoebe probably will. Allie would have.

Bill and Aaron were both sensitive overanalyzing types, spun internally.

I love this book. It is not only insightful in a kindred and exceptional mind, but powerful, interesting, and meaningful in my history. It stands beside Tolkien.

Oppenheimer

2.5/4

Barbie

A summer blockbuster by Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach? It's as incongruent as it sounds, but works well enough on each level (Hollywood and indie) to narrowly compensate the whiplash.

They could have made a full parody (I heard Amy Schumer was considered), or tried harder to welcome men to a stereotypically feminine franchise, but they actually doubled down on the feminine to backdrop the satire. The movie doesn't really pick an angle on Barbie, instead trying to host complex perspectives, but it does pick an angle on women, to poignant effect.

I resent the rampant humor these days that would derail narrative at length for bad jokes. Writers must assume the derailing itself is creative enough that the joke needn't be good to justify the dramatic misfire. But it's not creative anymore, it's tedious and ubiquitous. For each decent joke in Barbie there was a dramatic misfire for a bad joke.

The Philosophy of Modern Song (Bob Dylan)

Only Boomers and musicologists can know more than half of these songs. I skimmed the numerous whose titles and artists I'd never heard.

Despite the title, this is nowhere near a work of philosophy. It's brief reflections on dozens of songs, usually in two parts: an abstract meditation on the lyrics and a historical musing. I surprisingly favored the latter, with its tangible nuggets, over the airy former. Dylan is a qualified and commanding historian. The abstractions were still impressive in their word association and imagery. All of this proves Dylan is a real writer, of more than just moody songs. My perception of him really grounded after Scorsese's Rolling Thunder. I thought he'd lost his mind over the decades, withering, blubbering, stiff. That's just his stage persona. In the documentary, in the podcast, in this book, Dylan is sharp of eye and tongue.

This book is neither the "master class" nor "momentous artistic achievement" of the cover flap. As a musician in 2023 I didn't learn much, and as a Dylan fan I can say the artistry shrinks beside any slice of his songwriting. It's nice to hear him musing lightly though, and people who grew up with these songs may appreciate the reflections. At 80, is he still the voice of his generation?

Favorite passage:
"A big part of songwriting, like all writing, is editing--distilling thought down to essentials. Novice writers often hide behind filigree. In many cases the artistry is in what is unsaid. As the old saying goes, an iceberg moves gracefully because most of it is beneath the surface..." and his ensuing portrayal of Townes Van Zandt.

The Tender Bar

I'm astonished Ben Affleck, George Clooney, and William Monahan spent time on this. Not that I always respect the choices of the first two, but they're mega names, and Monahan wrote one of my favorite screenplays ever in The Departed. Actually, I hear Clooney as director dumbed down Kaufman's Dangerous Mind screenplay. Maybe Monahan got a similar treatment. Otherwise, Monahan himself has frighteningly dumbed down since 2006. Or maybe Scorsese is the real Departed author?

The Stranger

I have a feeling I would have preferred Gilbert's translation. Ward, in his American initiative, becomes almost unartistic. But I overindulge fancy language.

I think Meursault is neither wicked nor decent, even in a world assigning such attributes worth. The prosecution is baffling, but, despite Meursault's rhetorical privilege as narrator, so is his crime. I often sympathize with his indifference, but not his ineffectiveness when he does desire something. For example, I don't fault him his moral apathy surrounding the trial, but why is he so incompetent toward an outcome he acutely prefers, walking free? Even when his perception is spot-on, and he feels earthly desire, he fails to actualize. He trips on his environment while transcending it.

I'd like to read more commentary, but I didn't notice much novelty in The Stranger, from my millennial seat. Apathy is familiar. Camus admitted Americans did brief blunt syntax first. I did enjoy the story though. I like a distillation. Start with the Hollywood cut and then remove everything that gives away the point. Then remove everything that amplifies or prolongs an emotion that's already stated. State emotions, themes, and events briefly, with reservation. Yet I said I overindulge fancy language... Dylan Thomas balances both paradigms in the first third of his Collected Poems. His language is sacred without becoming dramatic; between banter and Bronte. Camus via Ward is a little dead, besides occasional exquisite digression.

What's more absurd: murder by sunstroke or death penalty by not crying at your mother's funeral? Camus commentary is all about the Absurd, and both events feel improbable, but which is the crux, and is it really absurd? So much for "the nakedness of man faced with the absurd" if Meursault is the absurd one, with plenty of opportunity to save himself. Besides his godless meaningless universe, which isn't very absurd at all, Meursault's life isn't that bad, if he could just avoid approaching an adversary with his senses disoriented and a gun in his hand. This isn't Meursault vs. Universe, it's Meursault vs. whatever social and sensory abnormalities he's enduring. That doesn't seem quite so existentialist. Again, the prosecution is borderline absurd, but so is the crime, so I question the existentialist theme beyond the obvious (hardly existentialist anymore) atheism/nihilism.

I wonder Camus's purpose. I called it a distillation because it didn't beat any dead horses, but it did beat a lot of horses. This isn't a work of philosophy, with all that narrative detail. It's a philosophically apathetic novella. For that, I liked some of the descriptions, and I liked meditating on Meursault's mindset. Obvious it is, but challenging, therefore worth prolonged confrontation.

The Irishman

The Irishman was great though unnecessary. What does it contribute in 200 minutes of outrageous star power that you can't find in two well-selected mob movies made decades ago? With its runtime and lineup of legends one would expect a kingly film capping a kingly career. But it strikes me as just another Scorsese film, with a good story and exciting actors. Unfortunately the acting is all subscripted by the movie's real theme -- legends being legends -- but that didn't stop me from enjoying Pacino especially. I haven't actually seen him in much, but I do like Michael Corleone, and his Hoffa charisma was thrilling. The other leads were probably deliberately muted. I have a feeling any of them could have played an intoxicating Hoffa, but did they have to play their own parts so uncharismatically? De Niro is just a brick. Even as young Vito Corleone he's all business with a face of furrowed stone. Is it possible for him to be really likable? Pesci is similarly cold, although it's not his job to buoy the film. De Niro reeks of cold death all along, which as protagonist doesn't bode well for the film's vitality. I don't mean De Niro failed -- actually I was impressed how well he got along, acting for real, even ambling about as a faux-forty-something. Did they de-age his entire body? I didn't mind the performance, despite his personality vacuum and the fact that it doesn't really make sense to cast De Niro as anything up-and-coming, unless ironically, like a comedy in which he discovers in his 80s he's actually a talented ballet dancer, or his real life, in which he's a new father, again. Most of the film required de-aging, which I'm sure is technically harder and more distracting to the viewer than aging, so a lot of the geriatric casting doesn't make sense if you throw out what I said was the movie's real theme. Why are we watching a bunch of old dudes trying to be young dudes? There are plenty of younger options. I appreciate their place in cinema, and I'm happy to watch them act still, but for the movie's sake, it doesn't really make sense to me. I similarly respect Louis' and Dave's veteran view on comedy, but wouldn't cast them de-aged as teens trying to get laid in the next Superbad. I'd watch it, but I wouldn't cast it.

Edit: this from Wikipedia:

Scorsese added that there is a meta aspect to seeing Pacino and De Niro interact in The Irishman, saying, "What you see in the film is their relationship as actors, as friends, over the past 40, 45 years."

Right? Exactly. The whole project is meta, cinematic, i.e. not quite authentic. And it lacks the personality of The Godfather or The Departed. It's a sober tale of killing and dying, underscored by the unfortunate fact that the director and actors are all close to dying themselves.

Chance the Rapper

Between 2015 and 2018 I listened to and liked Acid Rap and Coloring Book. In the past week I listened to both, plus (for the first time) The Big Day. I believe in 2018 I told someone I preferred Acid Rap to Coloring Book. I think I liked the idea of scrappy homespun rap over highly-produced globorap, hence my perpetual perception of Late Registration over Graduation. Now, corrupted by the mainstream or not, Coloring Book came off as the greater album, and The Big Day -- even notably further from his roots -- is an argument for Chance's best music. I hear lots of people hated it. I don't understand that. I've only heard it once, that from lyric-obscuring car speakers, but it seemed great. It didn't quite feel like Chance, but is any music free of that discomfort? Kendrick has broadened his vocabulary in a way both mature and neutralized. I respect his versatility, though it flattens his sharp image. I'd say the same of Chance. The versatility feels mature, even exciting, though confoundingly unfamiliar. I lose my sense of Chance when he flexes over such diverse beats. But it's still good music, and a good album.

I'm just not quite sure its use to me. I'll keep up with Kendrick, since I loved that dude's music. I never loved Chance like that, so it's harder to justify this album, which I think is good, but unaffecting.

4/5

Adaptation

This is back when Kaufman was just smart and fresh. He was clever enough to thwart expectations, but not yet devastate them. Synecdoche, I'm Thinking of Ending Things, and Antkind are devastating, with all of the cleverness of Adaptation and Being John Malkovich but a heavy dose of dread to boot. Those are more interesting to me (note: I haven't seen Human Nature, Confessions,...).

It doesn't help that Malkovich and Adaptation age poorly, even (especially) for Kaufman fans. Acquaintance with his later work or any self-conscious metawriting makes those films redundant. Their egocentrism robbed of originality by decades and writers they influenced, they lean upon a rotting staff of Y2K humor and style. To me they're mostly artifacts of screenwriting history, and pieces to understanding a figure influential to my life. Even in high school I didn't care too much about those two films; it was Synecdoche and Eternal Sunshine that changed me. Now I have a singular experience of Antkind and admiration for I'm Thinking of Ending Things (and I've never minded Anomalisa). I haven't seen Synecdoche or Eternal Sunshine in a while, and I can't remove them from their memories in my judgment, but considering all of this I suppose I can still call myself a Kaufman fan.

Some artists decline entering later phases of their careers. The vigorous early works live on. Maybe Kaufman will be remembered for Malkovich and Adaptation, catalysts in screenwriting, but I think he has only matured, at worst finding more interesting ways to embrace his immaturity, at best discovering new human insights through obsessively spelunking his own mind.

Amélie

I loved its delicate balance between the whimsy of kid cinema and the intellect of canonical great movies. That whimsy isn't my natural speed, but I found Amélie's world dreamy. This movie is full of life.

I wish romance wasn't painted as the key to happiness, as it often is. Amélie found a (perhaps unrealistically) meet companion and thereby found happiness. Romantic companionship can help, but I doubt its power to create contentment. So the ending felt inauthentic, especially after each character had established their childish spirit, making the late sexual tension almost creepy. Maybe it's just French.

3/4

Grizzly Bear

Painted Ruins

I still have a few tracks to go, but this falls in that common category in my head: "admirable but not quite likable." Grizzly Bear seem determined to rid rock of predictable chord changes, which as a longtime chord enthusiast I appreciate; still I acknowledge certain chord changes prevail over time for certain objective reasons. A ii-V-I has sonic qualities that would persist past human extinction. Why those qualities please the human mind I can't comprehensively trace, but I can observe the tension-resolution pairs more numerous than in other changes. The most obvious is (assuming justifiably the V is a V7) the tritone 4-7 (the most dissonant interval) diverging a half step on either side to the most consonant, 1-3. Including the ii, you have the top note stepping up 6-7-8. I doubt I'm doing justice to everything going on in a ii-V-I, so I'll stop. But I think music is partly objective, not aesthetically but logically, and the human mind thinks logic is aesthetic. Patterns are pleasant, familiarity feels good, especially when those patterns make some logical sense. I think the aesthetics of music are primarily explained by tension-resolution dynamics of dissonance "beats." I'm at the limit of my knowledge and articulation again, so I'll stop again. Anyway Grizzly Bear stubbornly eschews tried-and-true changes. Perhaps they just think chordal creativity is their duty, as no one else is doing it. Or perhaps they give no credence to historical precedent. Perhaps they think Christianity prevailed by luck, being in the right hands in the right nations in the right eras. Perhaps they assume many other planets in the galaxy could host life with a little encouragement. No, Grizzly Bear, Christianity and Earth and a ii-V-I all have kingly qualities. If you want to spritz the water of life on every planet in the galaxy, every religion on Earth, and every imaginable chord change, you may find something sprouts after a while, but you should expect innumerable failure in the meantime.

That said, their chords aren't that bad. At best they're lush and disorienting. At worst they're cringingly crooked (see anytime they use dominant 7 chords or anything bluesy). I think some of these, entrenched in mental pathways through millennia, could be pleasant or even normal. But there's a lot of nebulousness to endure in the meantime. As in my Antkind post, randomness is hardly pleasant.

There was a time I fixated on random chord changes, around the time I fixated on random time signatures. I was about 15. Such experimentation can be fruitful, if you're discriminating and patient. I'm not sure Grizzly Bear is discriminating or patient (anymore?).

Context

I listened to and liked Yellow House and Veckatimest quite a bit in high school. I'd heard Shields. This was my first time hearing Painted Ruins. I still enjoy some of the older songs, and none of the new stuff is bad... It's hard to distinguish nostalgia from quality in the older stuff, as always, but I think I still like some of it. Certainly not as much anymore.

Antkind (Charlie Kaufman)

The first quarter was entertaining. The next two quarters felt aimless yet remained mostly amusing. I rode those out without trying to understand much. That's how I experience much media. Near the beginning of the final quarter I sensed some underlying order and quickly perked up. This sterner attention made the volcanic final quarter desperate. Despite the frustration I suppose I'm glad I tried to comprehend things near the end, as desperation beats nonchalance in life. I never expected everything would come together, but it seemed Kaufman began wrapping his chaos in some partial packaging. It seemed we zoomed out from the narrative sea to reveal macro tides. But alas, in that final quarter, one tide followed another in destructive interference. Kaufman shook the whole unit several times near the end, canceling any identifiable order. Lives and films bled together, and I don't mean in a mosaic of characters -- I mean in the several lives and films of one character. This is like if Philip Seymour Hoffman played every Caden in Synecdoche, and the film was far longer, protracting storylines that may not top the film's authenticity hierarchy yet are indistinguishable in authenticity.

Antkind was consistently funny. Its style of humor offered a buoy in the chaos, not just emotionally but rationally. It was the only consistent thing to which sanity could cling. It's also hard to feel affection toward something random, so I think the comedic voice will endure in my affection as the book's sole trusty character.

The comedic voice was profoundly sarcastic, aimed especially at Kaufman as an intellectual. I suppose this book is primarily intended for self-diagnosed intellectuals who don't take taking themselves too seriously too seriously. It was easy for me to relate to Kaufman thusly, which isn't surprising given his films' role in my formative years. Ego and humiliation fill them all.

What's missing from Antkind, relative to his past pursuits, is a genuine emotional core. He has written some gorgeous and empathetic moments before. The strongest thing I felt in Antkind was desperation, the most common laughter. Otherwise it was pretty desolate, desperate thing after desperate thing happening, punctuated often by comedy, washed in absurdity to the point of triviality. A senseless ache for humanity in a narrator incapable of connecting with any other humans.

It is a wonder Kaufman rescued the protagonist from insufferably pretentious to indomitably heroic and also insufferably pretentious. It's the intellectually elitist version of the Michael Scott transformation ("we need to start making him more likable") -- heroic via depthless spirit and good intentions. Kaufman (the character) admits B.'s role is the unbreakable butt of the universe's jokes. Sometimes it's heartbreaking. As such an actor B. experiences real depression, horror, pain. I do hope he lives to see himself backward, rising from every manhole in New York City, joining Calcium.

It's hard for me to read novels, so I rarely do. I've read more classics than contemporary. So it's hard to compare Antkind. I reckon it's original and inspired, and I know it's entertaining. I also know it's unhinged, flapping recklessly in some windy synapses. I suppose it contributes to literature, with a voice trumpeting through the storm. Is it worth its weight? I can't recommend it. It doesn't pay off, unless I'm tragically overlooking something. But I will keep it dearly on my shelf.

Updates 5/9/23:

A few days later I find it hard to move on. I look back at the mess like Lot's wife. I look back like Eurydice to make sure the book follows me into the daylight of post-Antkind life, worried I didn't capture enough of it. I rarely read big novels, so it gnaws me a little. I want better closure, cleaner analysis, peace. I want to justify all of the time I spent with it by carrying it with me, learning something profound or at least gaining a new lens. Antkind is over and I don't know what I gained, yet I don't want to leave.

I'm seeing numerous reviews emphasizing B.'s unlikability. That never bothered me, though as a type I'm fundamentally in concert with Kaufman, so B. can't really offend me. Hence my generous Michael Scott comparison, one of the most beloved TV characters of my lifetime. I have a big heart for B. He is tortured, quite literally. One reviewer called him Job-like. And he means well. His monologues are often hilarious and deeply relatable. Sometimes he even plays the straight man -- remember how good those moments were in The Office? In a twisted reality B. and Michael periodically transform into the sanest of them all.

From The Guardian:

    Where Kaufman's films are playfully mind-bending, they usually have real heart. But although Antkind is skippingly clever -- saturated with comic allusions, puns, linguistic inventiveness and wildly unfettered imagination -- it is sorely lacking characters you actually care about or any emotional narrative to cling to.

    This is what I was suggesting earlier, though more recently I was arguing I care about B.'s narrative... Maybe absence grows me fonder. I feel sympathy for B., even love in rosy retrospect, but nothing is emotionally coherent like the films. I daresay it isn't emotional at all, like the real laws of nature agnostic to human tragedy. That's compelling, although if I begin a long movie like Gone with the Wind, I expect some emotional rapture. Antkind frustrates any assumption of coherence. One chills oneself to brutal chaos.

Antkind may make more sense than I suppose, but I suppose it doesn't make great sense. I suppose Kaufman was content to connect concepts in a compelling manner, not necessarily a coherent manner. At least he connected some of the vastly disparate concepts. Sometimes that's enough -- tying up loose ends in an ugly knot. Those moments of connection get me through stuff like Inland Empire and Antkind, even if they don't ultimately add up. Kaufman delivers enough sense to excite a rational reader, not to satisfy.

    I'm not seeing any reviews claim to understand the book, so I'm increasingly confident that pursuing such understanding is vanity and vexation of spirit.

Thesis: Antkind never completes its circuit, but it provides meaty contemplation in an invigorating and original style. It showcases brilliance without executing brilliantly. It's mostly entertaining, ultimately unsatisfying, holistically admirable.

Updates 5/20/23:

Rereading, some things make sense. Calcium finds B. Barassini directs B's rememorying from early in the book. There are more connections than I fathomed, forgetting details in a slow reading. I may be done rereading now, so I've given up on full understanding. The Calcium revelation (stunning) suggests there's more coherence than I expected, but I still doubt it's satisfying. No online explanations jumped out at me -- I'm sure some exist, but if most reviewers claim incoherence, at least I know I'm sane.

First Two Pages of Frankenstein (The National)

The two tracks that stood out I already knew about as singles weeks or months ago. Otherwise, the Taylor Swift track seemed okay, but everything else felt so basic. I really don't understand The National. They've made so many songs I really like, and so many deeply average songs. It's just interesting they can persuade themselves with mediocre song foundations, taking them all the way through writing, recording, and qualifying for the album. For instance, the intro acoustic guitar lick on "Ice Machines": if I thought of that (not unlikely) I'd immediately discard it, unless I was forcing myself to take any fragment to the finish line as songwriting practice. I'm guessing the intro licks (always four bars) are the foundations for these songs' composition -- but why? So many of them are throwaway; some are rescued by Berninger or others along the way.

It's amazing they still seem hip, attracting younger mega-acts like Taylor, given their age and periodic cheesiness. I thought they abandoned that staleness in the dust swirls of the last album, but here they've regressed. This comes off as one of my least favorite National albums, though it's hard to tell yet. I do like those two tracks. I just don't understand why they dwell in bad pop progressions. They should all know better by now. They've transcended those so many times.

Spirited

I saw Spirited about four months ago, around the holidays. I watched most of it, not all, enough to say it was mediocre in a strange way. I haven't thought about the movie a single time since watching it, but I do remember feeling baffled. Not baffled by the plot, or writing, or music or anything -- that was all easily understood -- but by how none of this apparently-well-designed entertainment was entertaining. I can succumb to cheap pop guilty pleasures, but this was below guilty pleasure for me, as it wasn't pleasant or pleasurable. All stars aligned... and destructively interfered? Into a star-filled void? I would even go so far as to say the execution was tight, but that's impossible, if the movie wasn't enjoyable. It's like it actually lacked that one intangible quality mandatory to all art and joy, which was the very theme of the movie: spirit. It's like AI wrote and performed the movie: everything made sense if you shut off your human spirit. Maybe this movie will serve as an AI detector someday. If a test subject calls this movie a bona fide Christmas classic, they should be investigated for inauthenticity. I suppose this is extremely offensive to anyone who liked the movie.

Pride and Prejudice (2005)

I always have trouble with novel adaptations, but this one was vibrant and sharp, like its protagonist. Still it felt like little more than a hasty recap of the book. In a blizzard of motion and dialogue I hardly had a chance to savor anything, so the dramatic turns felt transient even as they climaxed. I've never wept over SparkNotes.

I have not read the novel; as always I'm looking for adaptations to stand on their own, assert their identity, even when they're inevitably enriched by their source. Pride and Prejudice was a nice bit of novel-adapted filmmaking, but clearly a novel adaptation, and hardly explicable as a distinct film. Adaptations can be made because the source is excellent material for the new medium, or because patrons of the source want to see it in a new form, especially an exciting form like film. This feels like the latter: created to give a new experience of the book, rather than to stand as a good film in its own right. Having not read the book, I imagine this is a good pleasant adaptation; but I'm tired of adaptations that can't justify themselves as films.

I may also be chilly to the drama because, despite myself, I experienced Pride and Prejudice as a lighter, weaker Jane Eyre. It's no secret Bronte is dark and dramatic -- which fits my taste -- but Austen's dark/dramatic moments echoed Bronte's too nearly in my mind, without the gravity. I do realize Austen's came first, but not in my life, and I have historical affection for the darker, more dramatic Jane+Rochester. I think even the first time I saw Fukunaga's Jane Eyre, having never read the book, I savored each encounter. Pride and Prejudice felt rushed, and I never bought the romance. How hindered was I by Succession?

Still I enjoyed it, especially the visual and musical flavoring. This adaptation had character, but not enough to exceed its hasty motive.

Fat Ham on Broadway

It won the Pulitzer, I'm on Broadway, I scored cheap tickets, I've loved almost every play I've ever seen... Why wasn't I more excited? I heard it was some sassy black BBQ take on Hamlet. I thought "well, at least I'm getting some implicit Shakespeare." Yesterday I attended the Guggenheim and Der Rosenkavalier. Today I justified Fat Ham with a dusty white poet. That is, until the show started.

I've seen white audiences guffaw at sassy black humor many times. There's something I don't like about that dynamic, although I'll also say I usually just don't like audiences at all at these shows I love, especially the comedies. There are always numerous members laughing at dumb things you shouldn't laugh at. Then any moment of poetic non-comedy either gets misplaced chuckles or "mmmm"-*snaps*. I don't like all that feedback. I want to be a subtle and admiring observer of art, and I want to respect (leave alone) the experiences of those around me. I am a pretty passive observer.

I also just don't love humor that seems solely rooted in black caricature. Such humor abounds. Not only is it cliché, it doesn't feel very respectable (or respectful?).

Fat Ham had plenty of the above, with a couple of key differences: 1) it was actually funny; 2) it was heroic.

By the end, it was a party, and a joy.

The National again

I listened to every National anthem at least twice, in anticipation of April's album and August's show. That I can comfortably construct this list tells me what I need to know about their role in my life: I like them enough that there are standouts, but not enough that there are no standouts.

The National

Beautiful Head

Theory of the Crows

Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers

Fashion Coat

Alligator

Secret Meeting

Baby We'll Be Fine

All the Wine

Boxer

Fake Empire

Green Gloves

Apartment Story

Mistaken for Strangers EP

Blank Slate

High Violet

Sorrow

Anyone's Ghost

Bloodbuzz Ohio

Lemonworld

England

Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks

Walk Off

Trouble Will Find Me

I Should Live in Salt

Don't Swallow the Cap

This is the Last Time

Pink Rabbits

Hard to Find

Sleep Well Beast

Nobody Else Will Be There

Day I Die

Empire Line

Dark Side of the Gym

Sleep Well Beast

I Am Easy to Find

Where is Her Head

Not in Kansas

Dust Swirls in Strange Light

Rylan

newer singles

Never Tear Us Apart

Tropic Morning News

New Order T-Shirt

Everything Everywhere All At Once

3/4

The martial arts / sci-fi bits were silly, not quite as mature as I expected, but entertaining enough to carry one to the profound finish. Real artistry and humanity infused this nerd fantasy. Kung fu, sci-fi, family drama, arthouse, all genres stood together, like Avengers, futile alone, triumphant in concert. In my opinion it flew too far off the rails, but if the filmmakers couldn't pull off this excitement with any more checks in place, I'm glad they went for it. Rather be original than refined.

I expected to like it more. At times it felt hedonistic; ultimately hedonistic with heart. I wish I'd seen it before it won all those Oscars. Feels a little overhyped. I'd need more cake to frosting; sunset to fireworks.

The National

They're a moody rock band with some good sense, but there's nothing fascinating or exquisite going on. None of the musicality is terribly imaginative; I haven't explored the lyrics much, but it's pretty easy to mumble vaguely. They do it well though. And they seem like cool guys, which sets them above most indie in my head.

Berninger and the drums define the sound. Berninger is not actually a great singer; the drummer is excellent; both are distinctive. It's easy to pick out a National song.

Maybe it's an old poster of them in grayscale, vested, formal, but I see them as austere. I like that. I take myself seriously. I like the subtlety. They certainly rock out, sometimes chaotically, but Berninger is usually pretty steady, and the drums are precise, even as the guitars scream.

I have two close comrades who love the National. I wish I loved them. I like the National. They're good smart musicians, but I need more imagination or beauty.

I listened to every album and single in anticipation of an August show. It was a little tough. I wasn't thrilled with the first four albums, just a few songs in there. Things got easier with High Violet. It seemed superior, though it's my most familiar so there's definitely bias at play. Even after that it was a little tough though. Little of it was exciting, though I don't mind it. Maybe when I was 15 I could think it was musically interesting, though it pales compared to most of the music I've heard and played since then. Yes, I'm implying I play more interesting music myself than the National. There's just a lot more going on theoretically. I know the National aren't thriving on theory... but in that void I need to really feel the music, and their genre doesn't quite deliver for me. Radiohead for me is far more theoretically interesting and more exquisite. Though emotionally alien, Radiohead somehow connects. It's as though intelligent aliens studied our human electrodynamics without speaking our language, and devised perfect music, though we still have no idea what they're talking about. Some musicians depend on storytelling; Radiohead is sonically emotive, with the storytelling of a microwave. (Actually, Radiohead's catalog is diverse. Some isn't that great, some is more human...)

Standup

Fast notes on my history absorbing standup

Louis -- he's the first and most standup I've seen. It was high school, I was thrilled, and I watched only him for years, every clip, until the summer after my junior year of college when I studied Rolling Stone's 25 best specials. Before that, Louis' Bill Gates bit stunned me like none other, but I liked other classics. I still like Louis, his history and his present, and I still think he's great, but as my recent post demonstrates, he's on a plateau. I've seen all of his specials plus a bunch of extra stuff.

Dave Chappelle -- in the aforementioned Rolling Stone query, I was really impressed by bits of Killin Them Softly. Previously, somehow I had this idea that Dave Chappelle was obnoxious. I had the same idea of Kevin Hart, until the twice-aforementioned query. Anyway Killin Them Softly really impressed me, and still does. I still call it possibly my favorite standup special. I like all of Dave's standup, though he's also on a long(-winded) plateau, comprising discourse that's not actually that funny, hence (-winded). But I have some inherent respect for him. It may even be irrational. It may even be contra-rational. He has some leaderly quality to me. This may be deep and racial, but I also just think he's a good speaker. He has some profound charisma which enabled his almost immediate teenage success and sustains his controversial reign. I've seen all of his specials.

Kevin Hart -- I wrote this dude off instantly in high school, but revisited during the Rolling Stone query, and have since liked and respected him, and I even love some of his material. I think his first few specials are awesome, and noticeably better than everything after Let Me Explain. I think there are like 3 in the latter category? Those all seemed oddly unfunny, like he forgot how to cash in on his setups. Or like he literally forgot to write the ends of those jokes, the punchlines. Anyway everything up to and including Let Me Explain seemed great to me. I've seen all of his specials.

somehow ordering those 3 that way made sense to me (the first two are solid up there for sure), but the rest will be a bit random

Richard Pryor -- I've seen two specials, 1979 and Sunset Strip. I like the former quite a bit, which seems well above the latter. I don't think there's much in the universe of pre-1980 comedy that I really like (unless we're including Shakespeare and the Bible and such), but I genuinely liked Pryor's 1979 special. The humor there transcends all the other stuff that aged poorly... including what I believe was Rolling Stone's #2 to Pryor's #1, Carlin's USC special. Everything around that time feels dated. But I still like Pryor's 1979.

Chris Rock -- I've seen Bring the Pain and a couple other partials. I respect his skill, even when I don't totally respect what he says or how he says it. It's not entirely my taste. Maybe it's a little too aggressive in style. Maybe I'm being really shallow here. But I do like and respect it.

Anthony Jeselnik -- despite his consummate douchebaggery, I am in the back of my mind waiting for his next special. It's just really exciting to me. I found out about him from a friend using him as a thesis for our shared dislike of shock for the sake of shock. Yet upon watching him, I'm shocked and I love it. It's not just the shock though... I really do think he's creative and intelligent. It's not like the Aristocrats joke, or Bill Burr roasting Philadelphia. It's very crafty. I've seen basically all of his standup material that's available.

Neal Brennan -- I've seen 3 Mics and Blocks, and I was thrilled both times. I don't think he's the greatest comic out there, and maybe he won't be a star, but there's something underdog legend about him, and his comedy still seems great, not to mention its genre-bending. I was floored both times by his honesty and revelation.

Nikki Glaser -- I was impressed by her on the roasts, and now I've seen most of her specials out there. I think she's really really good, though her persona and content only go so far for me. It just seems like incessant sex jokes. But ignoring the redundant content, the jokes themselves seem awesome.

Taylor Tomlinson -- I've seen a couple partial specials and a few bits here and there. It's growing on me, especially as she reveals some honest psychological stuff, though I doubt she'll be just my type.

George Carlin -- I've seen a couple specials and a bunch of bits (rants). I like and respect him, though if I remember right it's rarely very funny to me. But I'll watch him in his old age rant in the same way I'll watch Dave Chappelle. There's some comedian charisma behind the angry intellect.

Ali Wong -- I've seen one special and a couple of bits. I think she's good, though I'm not the target audience. It really seems to be woman-oriented, or some subset.

Mitch Hedberg -- I really like Mitch Hedberg. I wish he had more content. He died young, and even then repeated lots of jokes on various shows. We'll never get more Hedberg content, barring posthumous tomes. I really like him as a persona and as a comedic style. It's so unassuming. From what I can tell I've seen basically every joke he has on YouTube.

Nate Bargatze -- I like this dude, although it doesn't achieve much besides a warm, friendly chuckle. I will freely chuckle. But he's not really pushing me or shredding me or anything. I've seen a couple specials and some bits.

Robin Williams -- this is a really tough issue for me. I really want to love and admire him, and I suppose I do as some sort of martyr? But here's the thing: I rarely think he's funny. I've seen the Met special, bits of others, talk show appearances... I rarely think it's very funny. I guess it didn't age super well, but it also just seems insane, maybe a little obnoxious, but also desperately admirable? I'd feel confident in my take if I didn't hear others saying he's so genuinely funny, in the 21st century...

Ellen -- I grew up watching her show, which got less funny to me over time (I aged, and so did she?). To my surprise, years later, I actually really enjoyed her one special... I don't remember the name. I feel like it was around 2008. Then a later special I thought was decent. That's all I've seen of her standup proper. I did see her as the first woman telling jokes on Johnny Carson... right? I feel like that was good.

Bill Burr -- I hear a lot of praise for him. He seems strong, in his own way, but I feel like it's (pretentious alert) below me. I haven't seen enough. Maybe it's just his style, maybe even accent, but it seems so crass as to be obnoxious. Contrast that with current Dave's slow, thoughtful growl. Burr is like an angry teenager. But again, all I've seen are bits here and there.

Amy Schumer -- I have liked this, though it doesn't seem super groundbreaking anymore. Just decent jokes. I've seen a couple partial specials and some other bits. The first I saw of her was on SNL some years ago, which I thought was really good, at least at the time. I've seen lots of good comedy by women since then, so it may not be so novel to me now.

Eddie Murphy -- I liked the one in the red suit, but not the followup one quite so much. And even the red suit one was ambivalent -- some really brilliant stuff, some childish stuff. I think he was sort of a child at the time anyway. Like 21? Really prodigious though.

Bo Burnham -- I remember not loving this guy until I tried half of Inside. Then I liked him. Then I watched all of Inside, and then I really liked him. I mean, he's always kind of immature and annoying in a fundamental/intentional sort of way, but I'm really into him as a deeper artist. His musicianship is impressive; he redefines comedy sometimes; he's says some profound and intelligent things; he has some artistic subtlety (sometimes). And when he isn't subtle, he admits it. I can't back everything he does as a sometimes petty comedian, but secretly I really do support him. I've now seen a few specials and some youtube content.

John Mulaney -- this guy seems alright, but I haven't liked him as much as others seem to. I've seen parts of a few specials. 

Jimmy Carr -- I think he has some really good jokes (I like the fast one-liners), although I put him under Anthony Jeselnik. I guess I like comics when I can relate to their personalities... Dave and Anthony and Louis are all relatively calm thoughtful guys. I like their "cool" factor. Jimmy Carr isn't cool. But he has some good jokes. I've seen parts of a few specials, and some random work.

Tom Segura -- I've seen parts of a few specials. I feel like I've given him a good try. He seems good, maybe really good, but to me, ultimately inferior to Louis CK. Why am I comparing them like that? I don't know, chubby white guy, kind of intellectual and kind of juvenile, good observation of mundane situation... Anyway Tom Segura seems good but not novel to me.

Rodney Dangerfield -- I'm an ironic big fan of his tv appearances. It's so wholesome to me, and clever, and impressive, and actually funny. He's talented and wholesome... so why not? I've seen lots of his tv appearances, that's it.

Jerry Seinfeld -- I've seen bits of his specials, and some Seinfeld-embedded standup. Nothing wrong with it. It's classic. But maybe so influential that it's just self-evident now? The problem with influence is you sort of date yourself by baking yourself into the future, so you become obvious, uninteresting.

Maybe I'll resume this later. I probably have some more to list.

Bardo

I thought I heard Bardo was supposed to be bloated and pretentious? I didn't read much; I'll have to circle back.

I've also heard Synecdoche and Malick movies are bloated and pretentious, but I never felt that, even when they were egocentric or incoherent. I must be sympathetic, or akin.

Bardo looks a lot like Malick: drunken and dreamy, in a way I can't connect. So what do I get from such an experience?

I can't connect with it, yet I feel it. As for ideas, it's reflective, not like a mirror, but like the surface of a pond, transient and bent. I glimpse my own reality in its glinting, though I can't stare it down, nor fix it for a moment. If I want its treasure, I must endure its shifting.

I wish I knew more about Mexico. That ignorance is one reason I couldn't connect.

Another is how abstract and personal it is. I wonder how autobiographical? Many artists do abstract personal pieces. Maybe this is his. Certainly his others I've seen were easier to digest.

Did I enjoy it? It was abstract and alien. Sometimes beautiful. Ultimately felt. I liked it.

The Book of Mormon

"I still have maggots in my scrotum" -- what sounds like a dumb running joke is really a reminder that however much we're made to root for the Mormons, however much they appear to prevail, the writers want us to know how little they're fixing real misery on Earth. The musical wouldn't work if this reminder was more aggressive -- it'd be too depressing to enjoy, and I imagine there'd loom a culture of rejection by Christians. As is, the musical manages happy-go-lucky popularity without missing its point. It's a skillful balance.

Louis CK: Back to The Garden livestream

His specials are still as good as anyone's, though they've lost luster for me. I wonder if he'll ever reinvent himself again? Or just age like Carlin, never losing his edge yet never shocking the game like he once did. What would it take to reinvent? Some sort of trauma I suppose.

I wonder if his scandal was good for him. He has seemed more grateful since. He's not quite as cocky. Hopefully he understood that that was the point...

It's still extremely impressive how every single special over the many years has been good, nearly every single joke. But I know what he has to offer at this point. The jokes are novel enough to be good (insofar as novelty and quality are related) but not novel enough to be ecstatic. It's just more Louis, inevitable Louis, old friend.

With each special I feel optimistic it'll be good, and hopeful if not optimistic it'll feel new. I was especially hopeful this time as he said in his emails these may be his best jokes ever. I guess I fell for that. I wonder if he believed it. Maybe they are some of his best jokes ever, but it doesn't feel quite like it used to. I think that reflects more than just my aging. I think it says something about his evolving role in comedy.

My perception of his timeline since Shameless (2007) lifted him from irrelevance:

1. a couple-two-three crucial specials. He's inspired, likable, groundbreaking, unrefined.
2. a couple specials culminating in Comedy Store (2015) where the jokes are still good but he's getting more cynical, possibly depressed, less likable. He's refining his craft, but his persona is diving a bit. I recall Comedy Store as a low point. Personality matters.
3. 2017 (2017) was good. He's still refining (his wardrobe) and his mood lightens. A couple experimental bits like in Comedy Store, but altogether lighter.
4. scandal
5. a few specials that feel mutually alike -- more gratitude and grace from him, likability as of old, but now he's a legend. He appears effortlessly great, time after time, though it simply can't shatter the scene like it used to, unless he shatters himself constructively.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon

After Kill Bill, Ip Man, and Enter the Dragon, I sought "an all-around convincing martial arts movie." I don't have it, but with Crouching Tiger the genre is beginning to feel real.

It joins some of the strongest elements of the others, washed in a rapturous fantasy they lacked. The fundamentals were solid -- combat, special effects, narrative -- but it was the romantic/historical sweep that elevated Crouching Tiger. I was immersed, even as my cliche alarms rang.

I didn't expect such empathy for the characters. Previously I sensed a trend of characters as idols, worth worshipping or condemning, not adoring or pitying. Crouching Tiger, for its foreign stylings and far-fetched physics, touched unexpectedly near.

Still we have shallow archetype, absurd fighting. I'd be interested in a martial arts movie with skilled fighting that was a little more realistic, surrounded by subtler drama.

I need a lot more before I can love a movie like this, but I like it.

1. Kill Bill
2. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
3. Ip Man
4. Enter the Dragon