Game of Thrones

My favor rises and falls with the hopes of my favorite characters. Who are my favorite characters? Ned and Jon. Which are my favorite seasons? The first and the last couple-two-three. Bugger the hopeless middle seasons, I like when Ned lives and Jon ascends.

If I really mine my subconscious, here's how I associate:

S1: Ned, with Robert

S2-5: Robb and Brienne

S6: Jon gasps anew (not sure if that's even in S6)

S7-8: Jon and Dany

Obviously Robb and Brienne are lesser characters, and the association is telling. The middle seasons are miserable folly. Not bad TV, but ugly.

I'm all Ned and later Jon. Maybe if I rewatched I'd feel different.

Gone with the Wind

Act I

Standard old movie, standing out merely in scope: it's longer, using grander sets and scores. I have no investment in the Scarlett/Rhett romance yet. Maybe that's the point. It's creepy; I'm sick of men who seem or are significantly older than those they court. That's another thing, Scarlett seems so young and immature. She's really selfish. Maybe that's the point. Hardly likable. At least Rhett understands his own selfishness. Scarlett is a storm of selfish conflict.

It's interesting to guess the author's angle on the Civil War at this point. The filmmakers may obscure it, but so far it's hard to tell where the moral lands between romanticizing the Old South and acknowledging its necessary downfall. A title card indicts the film for racism; how racist was the author really? Are we just dramatizing the reality of racism here? Is that racist? The film demonizes the Yankees, but that's because the film is through Southern eyes. If it misrepresents Black characters, I'll say it's because the film is through Southern eyes. That explanation works at least for Act I. By the end I wonder how clear it'll be whether the creators support Southern ideals.

I have little romance for the Old South. That separates me from much of the film's original (ecstatic) audience. 78 years lie between the events of Act I and the film's premier. Reversing that span from the present lands me at 1946. Though few people remember events 78 years hence, they may bask in lagging cultural nostalgia. The elderly in 1939 probably felt much nostalgia or at least some polarity toward 1961; the younger audience less so. I'm still fairly young in 2024, but I could probably feel some sentiment toward 1946; and certainly as I age, and 78 years back nears my direct memory, the sentiment grows, positively or negatively or both at once. Also keep in mind I've never lived anywhere near the South. So there's a long blunting bridge between me and the subject of Gone with the Wind. Like Gatsby I see the aura in the distance but it's hazy. Gone with the Wind will not move me like it moved Southern nostalgia and Southern loathing in 1939.

Act II

What a fascinating spiral of misery! One of the most successful films ever, so long and winding and hopeless. The protagonist was a straightforward bitch, not a heartless one but with a heart for no one but herself. This wasn't a love story at all, it was the miserable folly of Scarlett O'Hara, twisting fortune into misfortune. I never expected Rhett's famous line would be aimed at Scarlett, and definitive -- she sucked up every last drop of his love until everything he wanted was before him and he couldn't give one damn. Gone with the Wind is nothing like I expected. How'd an unhappy ending grow so popular? Did people just find the cinematics ravishing? It's an unhappy ending, though a final upturn of the eyes makes one wonder. Scarlett squanders everything, and in the final 30 seconds of an extremely long movie looks up to a curious objective: the land, her home. Can such a physical possession possess so much redemption? She lost the nation she loved, both men she loved, her only friend, and her only child. What can she find at home besides reflection and regret? Nevertheless I love the idea. There are some things can't be taken away; we own those things as individual humans, separable from all humans but ourselves. Losing everyone isn't losing everything.

It's a curious lesson: you can ruin everyone else's lives and still find hope in "the land."

Gone with the Wind reminds me of Lonesome Dove. A long epic you hear is rapturous but ends up feeling cold and hopeless. Gone with the Wind, for its runtime, rushes by tragedy after tragedy, all through its protagonist's heartless eyes. It also reminds me of The Best Years of Our Lives, or what I recall of that pity. Not just miserable as a character but miserable as a viewer. There are sad stories can feel hopeful or inspiring. These stories are hopeless.

Ten years ago I told someone surely Seven Samurai is better than Gone with the Wind, assuming the latter was basic Hollywood. They said that's because I haven't seen Gone with the Wind. I've seen it now, and I don't love it at all. It lacks the artistry of most old classics of world cinema, and it doesn't even deliver a good American romance. Now it's also reminding me of lots of unhappy movies and books -- those seen as profound or even existential in their day but that are really just empty.

Not only was Gone with the Wind unhappy, it was disorganized. I guess that's because the novel was 1000 pages and there's no way to pace that movie. It could have been a miniseries like Lonesome Dove. I'm going to say Lonesome Dove is to the West as Gone with the Wind is to the South, each sweeping and also sweeping aside any emotional coherence. That's natural, life is such a way, but that's not why I'm watching movies. I'd like beautiful escape. Each epic was empty.

Without attempting to assess its cultural impact, how can I give Gone with the Wind even a 2/4?

Why does every poster show Scarlett and Rhett? There's never a happy moment between them. Not a single one!

Edit: Franz Hoellering put it nicely: "a major event in the history of the industry but only a minor achievement in motion-picture art."

Actually, seems like there were lots of measured critics, then and now. Maybe I wasted my time with the Avatar of the 30s.

Another possible indictment of Scarlett's character: she is elated after seeming to be raped. While this could indicate the film is tasteless about women enjoying rape, I think it more likely indicates she only feigned resistance. Her feigned animosity towards Rhett throughout the film is manipulative and ultimately leaves them both miserable and alone. Contrast that with Jane Eyre's measured teasing of Rochester, which lands them a superior relationship. If Scarlett had Jane's discipline and compassion, Gone with the Wind would be a love story.

Also, I hate "Tara's theme."

Another assessment I wrote elsewhere: "...Scarlett was almost insufferable. I expected a good love story but honestly it was miserable at times, with how everyone kept dying or being cruel to one another. Usually I can enjoy bleak movies, but somehow this one felt like a romance that kept failing instead of a movie that really captured the beauty of bleak reality. I mean I appreciate how it embraced tragedy... maybe the real problem is Scarlett. We're seeing 4 hours of film through her bitchy lens. Lol. That's probably too harsh. But I liked Rhett for most of the movie, which made her behavior seem really unjust. The movie would gain a whole new dimension if I felt any empathy for Scarlett. Maybe that's my problem."

Short stories

After a few stories each from Murakami, Hemingway, Kafka, and Joyce (masters, right?), I can't say I understand the form very well. Is art just subtraction? You extensively depict a scene and then subtract half the details and all the meaning before publishing? That's artistic; the artist gave nothing away; it's so authentically vacant. Then why did they write it? And why did I read it?

I haven't disliked any of the four. It's easier to pass my basic test when you're operating in what's not said, in the unseen. Often my contempt goes to the overstated; the understated slides through. It then dodges my love.

Short stories are still an effective vehicle for my gaining traction in prose. I wish I connected better with them.

Black Swan

I can't promise I've seen this since it came out. I went to the theater. I fathomed more symbolism, more thematics this time. It isn't too artsy to be mainstream, but it almost is. I'm impressed how it walks that line. Barbie awkwardly line-danced between indie and mainstream; Black Swan creeps right down the line en pointe. It's one of the most accessible psycho horror movies I've seen, or one of the most unsettling and artistically ambitious hit movies. Ultimately it's a fairly basic movie, sometimes too on-the-nose (Mila Kunis), but well wrought. It could have been longer; maybe it's because I watched in two sittings, but the second felt rushed. Suddenly we were in the climactic performance. Nina flew from timid to menacing very quickly near the end.

If I had an artistic career striking this balance of art and entertainment, I think I'd be pleased. It's good filmmaking, and lots of people will like it. More importantly, it isn't as ego-worshipping (or ego-annihilating) as most of the art I imagine for myself. If you can make Mirror, good for you, but it sounds kind of miserable. If all I ever made was Black Swan and Interstellar, that's not a bad life.

But I'd blush if you called me an artist. Black Swan is art as career, art as talent; Mirror is art as existence, or as close to it as anything distributed broadly enough I'm likely to see it. Ingo's movie in Antkind is really art as existence -- designed to be unseen.

3/4 decent movie

House of the Dragon S1&2

It's well-executed and forgettable. It's all a side story, with the staging of an epic but not the drama. It works for people who just want this universe; it fails for people who want to take something away.

2010: The Year We Make Contact

How can it be so bad? Well, for one, almost nothing is explained or even examined, so the scientific and philosophical depth of the source comes across as half-baked whims. If I hadn't read the book, and certainly if I also hadn't seen the first movie, this would all look stupid. It'd be like the animated Hobbit from the 70s. It just looks like kid fodder, misrepresenting the depth. The 2010 story is well-examined by Clarke; the filmmakers fail to transmit this. And the unexamined sci-fi film is not worth making.

Second, it's artistically blah. Somehow nothing hits. I should be able to define this... yet it's obvious. It's just blah, compared to Kubrick. It's uninspired. Kubrick is singular, this is an infinitely standard 80s movie. The music (Strauss feels forced), the visual style, the acting, the writing,... it's all stale at best, sour at worst.

Third, it's technically blah. How are the special effects better in 1968 than 1984? This film looks older than the elder.

Fourth, it does a poor job of drawing from its source and the earlier movie, both of which it must reconcile. This Floyd is unidentifiable compared to the book and the earlier movie. Chandra is nothing like the book. Curnow (Lithgow) is mind-numbingly unfunny. Nothing about it feels like the earlier movie. It hijacks screenshots and a couple of actors, but bothers not with any of the soul. Spiritually, 2010 is not a sequel. Its opener ("My God, it's full of stars!") ushers the inauthenticity right off the bat. Even if that's Keir Dullea talking, the inflection sounds nothing like Dave of 2001, nor really, I expect, like anyone would sound in that scenario. How could anyone voice-act that line like that?

High points: Mirren putting on a normal performance, and Dave shapeshifting in the pod bay. The shapeshifting was cool, though nowhere near as unsettling or awe-inspiring as in 2001.

It's awe-inspiring how a space movie with such heritage can be so awe-less. Maybe it didn't help I read the book first, so there were no wonders.

1.5/4

2001: A Space Odyssey

2001 still strikes me as a great movie, though no watch compares to the first, terrified teenager as I was. I thought it was just a sequence of ideas without explanation; Kubrick supported this; but Clarke, at least via 2010, explains much. Now I understand my old favorite movie far better than when it was just thrilling images to me. I wish I could get the sensory and conceptual thrill in one go. I never will, for this movie, but I'm mature enough now to find that in future frontiers. As an early high-schooler I missed much.

Objectively since 1968, and subjectively since my first viewing, it holds up in many ways -- a huge achievement for a genre that dates itself so fast. The technical effects are impressive. The story and ideas are of course provocative. More than anything, though, the artistry is subtle. This is what I need out of more movies, especially sci-fi -- the touch of a true artist who is operating on sensibilities the average viewer can't analyze or predict. I mean that's art, yet it's so uncommon. I developed this idea for myself when I read Sylvia Plath in college. I could predict her angle, see her thought process in trying to sound stylish. If I can see the artist through the art -- I don't mean the soul but the effort of the artist to be artistic -- then it's not really artistic. Kubrick does what I haven't really seen before in sci-fi -- hides his effort in his art, hides his context in his art, creates nearly timeless art. Said art isn't the highest art I've seen in movies, but paired with an exciting premise, it's plenty for his objective: "the proverbial good science fiction movie."

2001 was a contender for my favorite movie for a bit in high school. By college Kaufman and PTA dominated that conversation; I was disenchanted by Kubrick's darkness, hedonism, and shallow characters. Kaufman and PTA characters cut so deep back then. I always admired 2001 but it drifted out of mind for at least a decade. Kubrick isn't a character guy; he stages horrible or comical situations (or both at once). There's a limit to how deep that can cut. He also emphasizes the terrible over the lovable, again limiting his effect. Who could call something rooted in fear their favorite compared to something rooted in love? Such is my status between 2001 and LotR. LotR is fearsome and lovable, and sad. Kubrick is generally fearsome. Synecdoche is primarily sad. Fear just isn't a key motivator for me. Some people love horror. Kubrick isn't precisely horror, but fear is one of his biggest strengths. Since early high school, melancholy was more my style. A maj7 or a min7 over a harmonic minor. This difference has diminished over the years -- as melancholy doesn't hit me like it used to, and I need more thrill out of life -- but 2001 wasn't timed quite right. I mean the first watch was perfect -- just what I needed at the time, when I was still edgy and philosophical (Blonde on Blonde), but it (with BoB) waned as I needed more love in life -- hence Synecdoche and sentimental Bob. I think that was the chronology? Now as I seek thrill again (I'm full of love) 2001 isn't new. The thrill was exhausted in high school. Where do I find thrill now? It's harder than it used to be.

I think that chronology was right. It sounds right: Kubrick and amphetamine Bob, then Kaufman / PTA / sentimental Bob, now... I don't know? Nothing has struck me nearly as those did in high school, other than LotR, which seems exceptional, for various reasons. Actually, Harry Potter was a bit of a revelation -- I don't ultra love it but it tapped something deep. Tarkovsky was nice but I'm not confident how much I enjoyed it. I've enjoyed other poppy music/movies/TV... but I'm not sure what really gets me anymore. My favorite movie list especially is so rusty.

House of the Dragon: S2

This weekend I continued House of the Dragon and Clarke's 2010. Both are clearly 3-star-out-of-5 experiences. So why in seven hells am I engaging? This is new territory for me. In college I was 90% through Jane Eyre, a book I loved, and couldn't justify the finish. Later, I left the happiness of Utah despite my host's arguments, because my personal growth was beginning to plateau. Two years ago I probably couldn't have consented to more than one episode of HoD and a handful of pages of 2010. Yet now I continue. This is a stark pivot in my life. For good or ill?

I think the following is obvious, but people's GoT sentiments amazed me, so let's document it anyway: Rhaenyra is the clear hero. There's no "pick a side" drama. The show is named after her house, she's been the heart of the show all along, and she's the most admirable major character. She's also the rightful heir. Who would pick the illegitimate Greens, with Allicent's negligence and her sons' psychosis? Daemon is ambivalent of course. His moments of heroism and loyalty endear me, while his violence and ego repel. Allicent is despicable, not by nature but by deed, which makes her tragic. Aegon's immaturity saves him from being an outright lunatic like Aemond. Viserys was flawed but ultimately decent. I wish I really liked the Velaryons, but Corlys' integrity waves, and those subplots are dull. Rhaenyra is who I'm in for, with Daemon as an engaging sidekick, Aemond as a deplorable villain. So I have a little investment.

But boy what a dull season compared to what could have been. Does all of this ramp-up pay off, or are they just milking it because they know people like me are hopeful enough for a great climax coming? GoT foundered in those middle seasons, I thought. Hopefully HoD rounds up like GoT did. It didn't make it all worthwhile, but it was a little satisfying. HoD is smaller in scope though. This won't turn into summer vs. winter or all realms hurricaning together. It's a relatively petty war of succession. A relatively petty war of succession with dragons.

With HoD and 2010, I'm just interested what happens. This is novel for me, continuing for mere plot curiosity. Such is the way of all flesh, it seems, if not by adolescence then by tired domestic adulthood. But are my growing responsibilities really the reason for my Nestea Plunge into easy entertainment? Or am I just giving up? Or am I actually committing to a new worthy lifestyle? I could see a little of all three. I'm tireder than I used to be, lazier than I used to be, I have more social motive to watch TV, and I'm being YOLO. What does YOLO look like? Drifting carelessly, or seizing every moment? YOLO drove me toward GoT. Maybe I let it drive me too long, past two seasons of HoD. Active YOLO tells me HoD doesn't matter, so don't do it. Passive YOLO tells me HoD doesn't matter, so do it, because you want to. I respond there are two kinds of want: what you'd do given the choice (one answer) and base desire (potentially many). I desire HoD, and I don't think it's horrible for me. Do I want HoD? Not really, I'm just curious. Curiosity drives me stronger than ever in my life, not necessarily because the drive is stronger but because I let it drive longer.

I wish TV shows didn't know how to end a season. I kept almost giving up on GoT, but the very end of a season would spur me GoT-ward. I don't know how actually close I was to giving up on HoD before this season finale, but in those last few minutes the pieces really took motion. I don't want to miss a grand collision. I want to see it in real time, having never missed a beat of rising action. That's how I feel at the start of every football season. If I knew they'd miss the playoffs, maybe I wouldn't watch every minute of every game. But if it's a storybook year, I want to watch every minute of every game. So every year I watch every minute of every game. FOMO.