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.