Inhabiting 1980s New York in Whitehead's Cool Machine

 Cool Machine by Colson Whitehead

Cool Machine book cover

Author Colson Whitehead

Many thanks to Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Cool Machine, Colson Whitehead’s third entry into the world of Ray Carney, Northeast Regional Furniture Dealer of the Month (August 1981), the first Afro American Furniture Dealer of the Month, and occasional fence, whose been looking to get out of the game since the late 60s. Colson Whitehead is one of my favorite authors, and one of the authors whose books I look forward to reading. Needless to say, I couldn’t wait to inhabit the immersive world of Ray Carney and a long-ago New York, filled with incredibly detailed descriptions of furniture, restaurants and shops, and lots of thrilling and morally ambiguous characters who readers can end up rooting for. I was especially glad to see Pepper, Carney’s enforcer, back in action for these stories since Carney leaves some question as to the nature of Pepper’s absences. Just like Harlem Shuffle and Crook Manifesto, White takes readers into Ray Carney’s furniture shop and his side hustles for making some extra loot. This time, however, Carney and his wife, Elizabeth, are empty nesters, and Carney’s heist funds are helping to pay his kids’ college tuition and serve as capital for Elizabeth’s expansion to her own travel agency in the boom of Black tourism of the Caribbean. This was an exciting read that I couldn’t put down. Whitehead elevates crime fiction and thrillers to new literary heights, incorporating not only real characters, events, and scenes from 1980s New York, but also adding trenchant and relevant commentary that resonates with modern readers. 

While Ray Carney functions as a throughline for these three stories that take place over the 1980s, I found that Whitehead’s other characters featured throughout the book provide more of the action and flavor in these stories. For example, in the first story, “City at Night”, Carney is forced into a heist as one of his contacts has been beaten by a mob group led by a nefarious villain named Buzz. Buzz is out for revenge after the infamous thief Uncle Rich ripped Buzz off during a previous heist. Unbeknownst to Carney, he worked with Uncle Rich, and Buzz sees this connection as a means to get revenge on Uncle Rich. Carney is then blackmailed into leading Buzz’s gang to the elusive Uncle Rich. Yet, Uncle Rich, anticipating the revenge, ends up escaping with Carney, requiring Carney’s support and skills for an epic heist. While most heists end up netting these crews some loot, this heist is more personal and significant to Uncle Rich. He’s going to break into the Waldorf, one of the most upscale hotels in NY, and take back Jesse Owen’s Olympic gold medals from the 1936 Berlin games. The job has symbolic significance for Uncle Rich as he feels some kind of way about Owens’ plight as a revered Olympic athlete who was forced to not only race animals for money, but also to eventually sell his gold medals to placate Uncle Sam’s tax debt. Carney also sees significance in Owens’ story as both the need for a plan in life to manage things like taxes, but also of the systemic inequality that Black athletes face(d) in American society. I loved the character of Uncle Rich and his crew of siblings Rita and Jeff, Newark transplants raised by Black Panthers, looking to stick it to the man once again. Furthermore, Whitehead’s story takes us underground, both literally and figuratively, as we inhabit a New York that shows us more below the surface, including a kind of alternate society with its own mayor who rises to the challenges and seeks feedback by constantly questioning “How am I doin’?” Part of the other throughline with these stories involves the rise of cable as a mode of not only entertainment but also communication and income. Uncle Rich and others in the stories recognize the potential for controlling the cable industry and see it as a means to control another sector of New York, even if it is underground. This leads to the thrilling caper with the attempted heist while Buzz’s violent crew pursues Uncle Rich. 

The second story, “Here Comes Sue Simmons”, was my favorite. This story takes place in 1983 and primarily features Pepper, Carney’s. enforcer, who despite constant stomach problems, is connected to an art buyer through Elizabeth. Pepper accompanies the buyer to an underground, downtown club to purchase a stolen mask from the Fang tribe. While Pepper’s buyer holds on to the briefcase full of money and searches for his seller, Pepper’s stomach pains force him to the bathroom. When he returns, the buyer is on the ground and the seller has exited the club with the money. Pepper’s job description shifts from enforcer to detective, searching the city for the stolen money and the mask. Pepper eventually teams up with LJ, a mohawk wearing punk who takes her name from the Television song “Little Johnny Jewel”, which was such a cool reference. One of the reasons I loved this section was all of the downtown NY references like seeing ESG play a show in this club and the Basquiat-like messages that appear tagged everywhere around the city. LJ knows the guy who stole the money and offers to work with Pepper to track him down. However, LJ also works for another art dealer who seeks to return stolen artifacts to their home countries, so her motivations are not only hidden, but also somewhat similar to Uncle Rich’s in the first story- reclaiming Black artifacts and treasures from an opportunistic world that traffics in Black history and culture. This story also features the best villain, who is only known as The Melancholy Hitman, a psychopath who seems to be struggling with connections despite his attempts to mimic typical human behavior, like taking tours around NY. It’s interesting that the Melancholy Hitman can blend in so easily, like wearing a mask of a normal person, since this story is about the power of a mask to transform whoever possesses it. As LJ explains, the Fang wore these masks as part of a tribal council that dispensed a kind of frightening justice that helped to keep society in line. In some ways, both Pepper and the Melancholy Hitman dispense their own kind of justice, but at opposite ends of the morality spectrum. This was a thrilling story that I couldn’t put down, with alternating narratives that follow Pepper and the Melancholy Hitman. Plus, all the references to downtown New York in the early 80s are fun to read, and Pepper’s friend and filmmaker Zippo also makes an appearance to help him and LJ recover the mask. Zippo is working on an interesting project that highlights the racist undertones in popular movies from the past. Whitehead allows readers to immerse themselves in the downtown scene that was a bubbling stew of art, music, and film, witnessing how some of these disparate scenes coalesced to bring help styles like hip-hop emerge from the underground and club scenes. 

The final story, “No Radio”, was also a great, exciting story that takes place in 1986. In this story, Carney’s nephew, who ended up working for a lawyer, is a witness to the murder of his lawyer boss and is on the lam. Although Carney grew up with his cousin Freddie, they eventually drifted apart, going down opposite directions, with Carney going to school and Freddie continuing his learning at the notorious Tombs. Carney notes that Freddie was never the same and died soon afterwards. It was at Freddie’s funeral that Carney learned about his nephew, Robert, and Freddie’s wife. Now, years later, Carney needs to find Robert to learn more about what happened, especially as Robert is pursued by a mob enforcer named Rabbit. Like the “Here Comes Sue Simmons” story, this story features alternating narratives that pair Carney and Pepper’s search for Robert with Rabbit’s quest to ensure Robert doesn’t go to the police. The title also refers to the changing nature of New York, when more residents posted “No Radio” signs on their cars, which both Carney and Pepper see as a sign of weakness in a city that is seemingly indifferent if not antagonistic to the meek and mild. It’s also a symbol of the change that enveloped New York in the 80s as it began its gentrification, ushering in new residents who helped to change many of the neighborhoods and institutions, including Donegal’s, the bar Pepper and Carney frequented. I really enjoyed this story not only for the great narrative structure and characters that inhabit this New York of the 1980s, but it also aligns well with the themes of the story about change, evolution and growth, and aging, as both Carney and Pepper are getting older and questioning the nature of their work. Both men have found some sense of peace and purpose in doing less but will always come out to help family and friends. There are many other interesting references to real life characters and events, but New York remains one of the primary characters throughout all three stories, and probably all three books. Whitehead presents New York as much more than a setting, but as both a protagonist and antagonist, that will provide a way for the characters like Carney to make a living and support their family, but also offers challenges and threats, as we see Carney, Elizabeth, and Pepper grow and adapt to these challenges. 

Cool Machine is a great book not just because it’s fun and exciting, but because it recreates a world from the past and allows readers to inhabit New York at different stages in the 1980s. Furthermore, Whitehead has the amazing characters who populate these worlds, whether they are underground, in clubs, or hanging around Carney’s furniture store. Whitehead’s descriptions of furniture, streets, and other parts of the setting create a fuller, richer portrait of New York and the characters in the book. However, Cool Machine is also great genre reading, which Whitehead once again elevates to new heights. Highly recommended reading!

Biting Superhero Critique: Automatic Kafka

 Automatic Kafka by Joe Casey with artwork by Ashley Wood

Automatic Kafka book cover

Author Joe Casey

Artist Ashley Wood

Many thanks to Image Comics and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Automatic Kafka by Joe Casey with artwork by Ashley Wood. I didn’t know much about this 9-issue collection from 2002, but the robotic arm image on the cover and the title attracted me to it. Ashley Wood’s artwork in this collection is stunning, with a mix of surreal images that incorporate advertising, pop culture, horror, sci-fi and war imagery, while Casey’s story and writing veer satire and critique to the absurd. At times, I found the story a little hard to follow, but Wood’s images help to ground a complicated story that lampoons super heroes and pop culture through its absurdly entertaining tale of a renegade robot addicted to a substance known as nanotecheroin. The National Park Service seeks to reassemble Automatic Kafka’s old team of The $tranger$, who include Saint Nick, Helen of Troy, and The Constitution, all assembled by The Warning. The National Park Service is looking to bring Automatic Kafka back into service for secret missions, but Automatic Kafka has a lucrative life of product endorsements and hosting a frightening game show called The Million Dollar Detail, where contestants try to guess the missing detail to often fatal physical challenges.

Automatic Kafka is a fascinating, if not sometimes confounding, story that has all the hallmarks of a critique of the George Bush era’s amped up patriotism and pessimism. In particular, The Constitution is a gas mask wearing ultra-patriotic warrior, whose red, white, and blue nationalist tattoos bear a certain resemblance to some current officials promoting the warrior ethos. Similarly, Automatic Kafka’s shilling of products and hosting a violent and fatal television show mock consumption and the kind of entertainment we seek to possibly take our minds of the violence and bloodshed we witness on the news. It’s a kind of bread and circus that often distracts citizens from the real horrors that are abound. Additionally, it’s interesting to see how the comic uses seemingly innocuous government agencies to develop clandestine operations and programs like The $tranger$, and their willingness to revert to these options when it seems like society is falling apart. I’m not sure whether that was the intent of Casey and Wood, who show up in a kind of meta-fourth wall break, and explain to Automatic Kafka his real intention. I felt like there was some kind of deeper meaning or more trenchant critique of the world in the early 2000s that was often marked by increasing government surveillance and programs couched in a rise in patriotism and nationalism. Automatic Kafka is surreal and absurd, but also sharply critical and biting in its satire of consumerism, patriotism, and the government. Plus it has amazing artwork. It’s a story with sharp, acidic artwork that feels especially relevant today. Recommended!

 

 

 

Exploring a Tragedy: Journey to Nowhere by Shiva Naipaul

 Journey to Nowhere: A New World Tragedy by Shiva Naipaul

Journey to Nowhere book cover

Author Shiva Naipaul

Many thanks to Doubleday Books and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Shiva Naipaul’s complicated observations and investigation into the 1978 massacre in Guyana titled Journey to Nowhere: A New World Tragedy. I was not aware of this book, originally published in 1980, that examines the factors that Naipaul claims helped to facilitate the deaths of nearly 1000 followers of Jim Jones. While the book documents the tragedy from an outsider’s perspectives through travels to both Guyana and the Bay Area that served as a home to the People’s Temple, Naipaul’s analysis appears to be biased, engaging in major generalizations about the ways in which Jim Jones’ followers were led from the 1960s countercultural and Civil Rights fights of California to the jungles of Guyana, a post-colonial nation that had recently attained its independence. In the first part of the book, Naipaul, who grew up as an Indo-Trinidadian British subject in colonial Trinidad, travels to post-colonial Guyana to examine the site of the mass suicide. I thought that possibly his own experience as a British subject might influence his views on colonialism, but I almost felt as if Naipaul’s journey through the jungles of Guyana was like reading Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. As Naipaul prepares to visit the site, he encounters other journalists and bureaucrats who all look to take advantage of the tragedy, whether it is capitalizing on the increased interest in the island or looking to sensationalize the story. Although Naipaul highlights letters and testimony from some of the members of the People’s Temple, bringing a sense of humanity to this story, he also seems to dehumanize some of the Guyanese, never giving a voice or any kind of individuality to those who seem to observe from a distance. It would have been interesting to learn more about how these indigenous members of Guyana and some of the oppressed classes felt about the events that transpired there. Rather than interviewing these citizens, Naipaul recounts the political history of post-colonial Guyana and the two opposing factions that battled for power. This was not something I new much about, but basically Forbes Burnham sought to implement a kind of socialism in Guyana by nationalizing some of the industries like bauxite and sugar in the developing nation. While some of Burnham’s policies had the outer sheen of socialism, Naipaul (and Burnham’s opposition, Cheddi Jagan’s People’s Progressive Party) critique the rigged elections and accumulation of wealth that marked Burnham’s true motives in consolidating his power. Further observations of the kind of surveillance that Naipaul observes both in Georgetown and at the People’s Temple site indicate the kind of conspiratorial and paranoid leadership that Burnham engaged in. However, what I found problematic was that for Naipaul, this kind of socialism is seemingly what led Jones’ group to Guyana, promising a socialist paradise with large land plots that they could develop and farm, bringing some much-needed development to the jungle areas. Naipaul also notes that the People’s Temple also investigated moving to Russia and took trips to Brazil and Cuba as sites that were socialist. Nevertheless, it was the shared beliefs in socialism that led the People’s Temple to Guyana and that allowed them to have, more or less, carte blanche to develop the land and commit human rights violations among their followers. There was little oversight or observation as to what was actually happening at the site by the Guyanese government. While I can see how the Burnham government was permissive with Jones, it also seemed like this was more like what happened with Jones across the different places he lived and ministered. Whether it was his own magnetism or his manipulation, Jones seemed to be able to convince others and develop a sense of trust that allowed him to commit atrocities among his followers without any kind of accountability. Even in San Francisco, Jim Jones and the People’s Temple were lauded by politicians, officials, and other institutions, until they were eventually forced out not too long before the tragedy occurred. Naipaul seems to overextend the analysis and criticisms, failing to recognizing the unique situation of the kind of corruption that may have been endemic to Burnham’s leadership and administration. While Naipaul takes some time to recount the political history of post-colonial Guyana, he also seems to suggest that most Caribbean nations experienced similar levels of corruption in their post-colonial independence and search for a national identity, implying that socialism-communism was to blame for much of the ills, including the Jonestown tragedy, in the Caribbean. Nevertheless, readers can tell how much visiting the Jonestown site affected Naipaul; his descriptions of decay and death that remain at the site months after the tragedy are haunting. In fact, his descriptions of all of the surrounding areas are evocative and haunting, creating a sense of degradation and death all around. I was able to see how fitting, at least with this section, the title is. Regardless, Naipaul rarely explores the history of exploitation and terror that were visited on the original inhabitants of these islands and lands, and fails to connect those aspects of history to the events of Jonestown.

The second half of the book finds Naipaul in the United States, primarily in California, investigating the various groups and movements of the early and late 60s that were developing in a response to social issues in America. I found this part of the book to be more biased. I read another review that noted Naipaul’s condescension throughout this section, and I agree. The level of condescension towards groups like feminists, environmentalists, Civil Rights groups, students, and Vietnam protesters made this part of the book feel like Naipaul had some kind of personal animus towards anything progressive. There are some fascinating parts, like when he meets with Huey Newton of the Black Panthers, but Naipaul’s description of Newtown and his twitching legs and laconic speaking are not really journalistic and paint Newton as a kind of faded and false freedom fighter, a flawed remnant from the social unrest of the 60s who was now relegated to backroom hideouts on the margins of a run-down Oakland. In fact, he paints Oakland as a decrepit city with shacks all around, frequently referring to it as a ghetto. I wasn’t aware that Jones and Newton met in Cuba, and while Naipaul tries to get Newton to admit to some kind of alliance between the People’s Temple and the Black Panthers, Newton doesn’t acknowledge any connection beyond the admiration of attracting followers and critiquing the racism and inequality of American society. Nevertheless, Naipaul links the People’s Temple to all kinds of radical groups including The Weather Underground, the Symbionese Liberation Army, and even the Mason Family, suggesting that there was something about California that attracted radicals and violent demagogues. In one chapter, Naipaul visits some kind of convention or market where various community groups have set up shop. He critiques the feminists, homosexuals, those who are interested in organic food and improving the environment, and even a group practicing a kind of polyamory, lumping all of these together and bundling them with the People’s Temple. I found this chapter to be particularly troubling since Naipaul seemed to generalize all of these groups. While he does make some important points about the nature of consumerism and how some of the groups were looking to sell products with the hope of making people feel better, it seemed like he was blaming the people rather than examining other factors that might have influenced the kinds of social change and development occurring in American society. Other chapters in which Naipaul reviews Jim Jones’ journey from an Indiana preacher who cared deeply about injustice and inequality were more relevant and seemed to offer Jones some more grace and understanding about his foray into religion or at least his use of religion to achieve political ends. If anything, this book takes on political relevance today to possibly see how religion is co-opted to attract followers to secular and political ideologies, seeing how overpromising and creating a kind of messiah who has immense and supernatural powers creates a dangerous and potentially fatalistic situation. The introduction by Hua Hsu notes one of the more powerful quotes from the book about how through Jones, Naipaul sees how “the language of religion could be transformed into the language of politics.” If anything, I took away some similarities from the past and today, recognizing how charismatic and determined leaders who see the world in black and white can often lead their followers on a road to nowhere, but also seeking a kind of mutually assured destruction or revolutionary suicide before exiting the scene. However, I also wondered what Naipaul would think about the world today, and how he might view movements for diversity, equity and inclusion today. Although he was critical of the People’s Temple, he blamed social movements rather than looking at individual differences and possibly Jones willingness to prey on those who were vulnerable or needy. There certainly is a need for assurance and fellowship, and to have a sense of purpose and meaning in the world. While some people are able to attain these things, others struggle with them, especially as American society has become more individualistic and competitive. Yet, these ideas or factors are not a part of Naipaul’s analysis. Rather, he makes an easy (almost lazy) assumption that Berkeley and the free speech movement helped to radicalize Patty Hearst, and this same movement also led to the deaths of nearly 1000 followers in Guyana. For Naipaul, it’s more about the movements that people follow without questioning, just blindly accepting, not recognizing the underlying mechanisms that lead people to blindly accept. Rather, he just assumes these people are lazy, thoughtless, or weak, and just want to be accepted by the crowd.

Naipaul’s Journey to Nowhere is a unique, fascinating, and frustrating book. While the book explores one of the 20^th centuries greatest tragedies, Naipaul makes many generalizations and assumptions about what movements influenced the People’s Temple and led to Jonestown. The second half of the book is particularly frustrating due to Naipaul’s willingness to lump seemingly disparate groups together because they were alternative or non-mainstream. Furthermore, his condescending descriptions of the group demonstrate more of his bias rather than his ability to connect them to the People’s Temple. I can see how Journey to Nowhere is an important book that provides some insights into this tragedy, punctuated by some elegant descriptions of the surrounding Guyana environment, yet it is also a frustrating condemnation of the wrong factors that impacted the tragedy of Jonestown.  

 World Cup Fever: Promoting US Tourism in Troubling Times

Poster Promoting US Tourism from USCBP

The FIFA World Cup is currently taking place in stadiums across North America, and it's been really nice to see many visitors come to celebrate and cheer on their teams. While Team USA had a good showing, they eventually exited with a loss to Belgium. People are enjoying  watching the world's best athletes compete against each other, but others have critiqued the high prices for things like train tickets, hotels, and matches. Part of the high price comes as the Trump cartel scrapped its initial plan to promote tourism in the US with some intimidating images. In this one, a MAGA demon is shown with two CBP officers behind them. The poster reminds visitors that agents will only neutralize American agitators. However, visitors should also remember that they shouldn't overstay their welcome, apply for welfare or date American women with a final reminder that DHS and CBP are here to protect and maintain the purity of the soil. 

The Trump cartel also had regional posters designed. I only have the Philly Posters, but there were three variants. 

This one reminds tourists to visit with confidence and to have their visa and passport. However, there's an ominous reminder of the Move bombing from 1985, possibly to suggest the power of the police state. 

This next variant is much darker in tone and message, informing visitors to not overstay their welcome. In addition to featuring the Move bombing, this one also seems to feature police surveillance, a zombie Ben Franklin who has been reanimated by lightning, and what appears to be the Eagles fan who ate a road apple during the Super Bowl parade. 

This last variant may be the most chilling as it offers some of the most disturbing instances from Philadelphia's history including Move, Scrapple, Pork Roll, Gary Heidnik, and Will Smith. It's clear that the Trump cartel wanted to send a message to tourists planning to visit. 

White House Patriotic Film Festival

 White House Celebrates Birth of a Nation During America 250

A flyer from the White House Film Festival

A recent film fest held at the White House to commemorate the "grand wizard of American Cinema" flew under the radar this past week. Curated by Stephen Miller, the film festival featured a screening of the 1916 controversial Birth of a Nation, which was the first film to be screened at the White House, nearly 110 years ago during the Wilson administration. Birth, based on Thomas Dixon's novel The Klansman, tells a fictionalized history of the south, using fear and stereotypes to imagine if the south were controlled by Black politicians. In addition to being fictionalized, Birth was largely responsible for perpetuating racist stereotypes that promoted violence against Black men, resulting in violence, threats, and fatal lynchings. It is somewhat surprising to learn that Miller enjoys films. First, he seems to derive no pleasure from anything except violence and humiliation. I've frequently wondered why so many of the guys in the Trump administration are so miserable and wish pain and violence on others. Yet, Miller was able to use the occasion of our nation's founding to celebrate one of his favorite films. Miller doesn't seem to like many other films. I've read his newspaper columns from his student days at Duke, and this particular entry titled "Hollywood and the Culture Wars" lays out his feelings about mainstream cinema. While I'm not always a fan of mainstream blockbusters, I can admit that there's always something in these movies that is appealing or entertaining. However, Miller acknowledges his paranoia when he claims that "American cinema is being converted into a propaganda machine." If Miller was aware of the history of cinema, he would know that has always been the case. Birth of a Nation is one of the prime examples that helped to propagate myths about Black masculinity and White femininity. Sadly, many of the stereotypes and propaganda from this film persists in the world today. However, Miller goes on to critique other films like Syriana, Munich, Goodnight and Good Luck, Brokeback Mountain and Fun with Dick and Jane (which I don't even remember). However, the other films that he mentioned are disparate, yet were all esteemed films that won Academy recognition in one way or another. He doesn't really make any argument about what culture war Syriana  is pushing, even though it questioned our role in the wars in the Middle East, which is something that the president and other members of his administration have critiqued over time. Furthermore Munich is a powerful film about the 1972 Olympics in Munich and the Mossad's attempts to get revenge against the Palestinians. Spielberg's film is not only a great political spy thriller based on real events, but it also raises questions about the nature of revenge and global/political conflict as Avner gradually realizes the violence is never ending. Rather than presenting the issue in traditional Hollywood good vs. evil fashion, Spielberg creates a more nuanced and ambiguous plotline where Avner learns more about the nature of his missions and its impact on others. Maybe Miller didn't watch this film because it didn't show "the evils of the Islamic holy war, the merits of capitalism, [or]...America as a force of good in the world". I'm not sure if Miller ever saw Rambo III, but the American hero who takes on all sorts of bad guys hitches up with a group of freedom fighters to push back against the invading Soviets. In fact, this film was made in conjunction with the GOP, as republican senator Pete Wilson helped to obtain weapons for the film . 

I would definitely recommend that Miller view this American classic, especially since we see Rambo help the Mujahadeen in Afghanistan repel the invading Soviets. American cinema has always been a kind of propaganda machine, but it also is a source of art and beauty; a medium that allows us to hear stories and explore worlds that we might now always come into contact with. Maybe Miller doesn't want to do much exploring. Maybe he's just looking for a window to observe his fantasy world or to view his constructed history, but cinema can offer so much more, and I would think that many people don't always look to cinema to be didactic or proselytizing. Rather, they go to be entertained or to escape or to feel and experience great art. While Jackass might not be great art, I find it to be hilarious and offers me some time to laugh with others. I don't think the Jackass crew is looking to convert people to take risks or seek out dangerous animals. In fact, they offer warnings before each episode and film about the risks involved. However, I don't think that Miller is a fan or likes to laugh at these kinds of films. In fact, in his article, which was supposed to be about Hollywood and its propaganda machine, he goes on to whine about sexual assaulter Bill O'Reilly being mistreated by David Letterman. Apparently, Dave stuck a pencil in O'Reilly's drink before he came out on the stage, and the media said nothing about this. Can you believe that? A talk show host trying to get a laugh? Miller contrasts Letterman's treatment of O'Reilly, who attacked and insulted his guest, with his fawning treatment of Jane Fonda. I'm not sure how this relates to his propaganda argument except to say that Miller likes to revel in his logical fallacies like the straw man, the slippery slope and the false cause. He misrepresents the argument about cinema by offering no valid examples except providing a list of movies he seems to hate. He then somehow links cinema and propaganda with Letterman's treatment of a sexual harasser and Inside Edition host, to claim that the left is trying to radicalize our country. In trying to make sense of this logic, he is arguing that the left has taken over entertainment because there are stories and ideas he doesn't like. Not only is Miller a misanthrope, but he's also a lousy thinker. I feel bad for him in the way these ideas run together in his addled mind. At least now he can host the kind of film festivals that can secure the existence of his people and the future of his children. While I deplore this film festival, I was glad to hear that they were unable to score any lawn jockeys to display on the White House lawn. 

Hegseth Confounds Audience with Bible Verse from Scorsese Film

 Hegseth Again Quotes Fake Bible Verse, Invoking "God's Latest Gift"

Among the many changes to Pentagon protocol, not many would have expected regular prayer services in the building where wars are planned and weapon designs are discussed. However, Secretary Hegseth has possibly sought redemption for his many transgressions and inequities over the years through an outward display and proselytization of Christian nationalism. Hegseth, with the support of Pastor Doug Wilson. In April, Hegseth recited Jules Winfield's famous lines he recites before killing someone. Although the lines are based on Ezekial 25:17, director Quentin Tarantino revised the language to fit with his story of two hitmen looking to retrieve a mysterious briefcase for their boss, Marcellus Wallace. 

It seems like Pete is finding more inspiration from the neon bible than from the actual scripture. Hegseth facilitated the prayer service by rebuking his enemies especially the Pharisees, asking God to smite them with all his might. Hegseth then asked for everyone to pray with him and proceeded to read from the Levine Epistles.  Hegseth started with a question, "Did you enjoy God's latest gift," which confused the audience since Levine is not a part of the Bible and the question seemed to be pointed to them. 

After briefly scanning the audience for their reactions, Hegseth resumed by saying "God's gift. The violence. When I came downstairs in my home, and I saw that tree in my living room, it reached out for me... a divine hand. God loves violence. Why else would there be so much of it? It's in us. It's what we are. We wage war..." Hegseth once again paused and scanned the room, smirking slightly and breathing heavily and quickly through his nose, enflaming his nostrils. "We burn sacrifices, and pillage and plunder and tear at the flesh of our brothers. Any why? Because God gave us violence to wage in his honor. There's no moral order as pure as this storm. There's no moral order at all. There's just this: can my violence conquer yours? This has been a reading from the book of Levine. Amen." 

The audience remained still and quiet, unsure of how to navigate the settling blanket of discomfort that was settling on the room. Hegseth's head whipped from side to side, as if seeking confrontation. Although Hegseth's passage cited God and his gift of violence, the passage was actually from the Martin Scorsese Film Shutter Island, released in 2010. Famously, the noirish styled film features an all-star cast of actors and actresses and raises questions about identity, reality, and sanity. Teddy, Leonardo DiCaprio's characters, ends the film with a famous quote: "Which would be worse: to live as a monster or die as a good man?" It seems that Hegseth and most of the other Trump officials have provided a definitive answer to this question. 

Hegseth shown here trolling the libs

A Sudden Flicker of Light: Exploring Film's Impact

 A Sudden Flicker of Light: A Revisionist History of Movies by David Thomson 

A Sudden Flicker of Light book cover

Author and film critic David Thomson

Big thanks to Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for allowing me to preview David Thomson’s provocative and expansive A Sudden Flicker of Light: A Revisionist History of Movies. I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect with this book. While I wasn’t familiar with Thomson’s writing, I’ve learned that he is one of the foremost film critics, authoring over 40 books in a career spanning nearly 60 years. He knows his stuff, and this book is touted as the culmination of all of his knowledge and thoughts about film, both celebrating and critiquing not just the artistry and magic of filmmaking, but also the commerce and industry of Hollywood and the silver screen. However, what I found most interesting was not just examining the trends and history of film, but rather examining how film has influenced individuals and society, and how the kind of imaginary pretense of stories on the screen has ended up influencing people’s expectations and understandings of the world around us. A Sudden Flicker of Light ends up being a fascinating study of the role of popular media on our own ideas and expectations about the world, which challenged my own thinking about my relationship to films, media, and others. I ended up enjoying this book, not only for Thomson’s unique, digressive style that seems to transition from one idea or film to another like a jump cut, establishing an implicit relationship, but also because Thomson’s ideas and critiques about the influence of film and popular media had me questioning and thinking more and more about why we watch films and what impact this has on us. It’s a fascinating look at the history of film, which as the book’s subtitled proclaims, challenges popular notions of films by frequently looking at influential factors, context, trends, and historical events that have influenced not just movie scripts and productions but also viewership and ticket sales.

Although Thomson’s book follows a somewhat historical progression of films, he starts the book focusing on cinematographer and director Haskell Wexler, who is often cited as one of the best cinematographers, but who was also fired from two award winning films in the 70s (The Conversation and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest). I wasn’t exactly sure what this brief biography had to do with the rest of the book, but after finishing I can see a few themes emerge from Wexler’s career, especially as he was working with some of the directors who helped shift the Hollywood machine from entertainment to art, revising the ways that we consumed films and movies. As Thomson explains, Wexler was asking a lot of questions, sometimes pulling the actors from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest aside to question the tone of the film, asking whether Milos Foreman was trying to elicit more comedy from a film that could possibly serve as a serious critique of society. This kind of conflict or dichotomy between artistry and themes in films and the need for commerce and audience approval is one of the oppositions that Thomson pursues and analyzes throughout the book. It’s fascinating to think about how Cuckoo’s Nest, an Oscar winner and beloved classic, may have turned out differently if it had sought to lessen the humor and been more serious or morose. Thomson raises some other examples, most notably the ending of Chinatown, which was rewritten to be dourer, which ended up subverting the audiences’ expectations for a happy ending. He also acknowledges the kind of ambiguous ending of Adolescence as another way that audiences are left with questions about the motivation, yet still can remain riveted to the screen based on the artistry of the acting, direction, and relevance of the plot. The discussion of Adolescence and Netflix’s influence on our viewing is also compelling to think about how the approach to home viewing and engaging longer form television has shaped our own consumption of films and movies.

I loved learning more about the history of cinema, and Thomson’s own reflections about how cinema has evolved over time. There’s a lot to learn about, and in particular, the chapter “Like Lightning” that deals with The Birth of a Nation, the first film to be screened at the White House, is fascinating, especially in its demonstration of how film has the power to alter the popular understanding of history and shape or reinforce personal beliefs, biases, and stereotypes. I found this chapter particularly relevant based on the ways that images, video, and other forms of media are often presented to win hearts and minds and challenge perceptions about the nature of the world. Rather than documenting a kind of truth or reflecting historical accuracy, Thomson explores the ways in which film manipulates and alters our emotions and ideas, much the same way that say videos shared of boat attacks or bombings are now shared on social media to drum up support for violent, illegal policies and unpopular attacks on other nations. In fact, Thomson’s last chapter, titled “Quiet, Piggy” raises some important observations and questions about the ways in which President Trump, a big fan of Sunset Boulevard and Gone With the Wind, two other films Thomson analyzes and critiques, has more or less become an actor in his own film, playing a kind of trope and using other motifs like violence, sex, and villainy to sell his film. It’s a fascinating deconstruction that questions how our viewership and voyeurism has shifted from watching what plays out on the screen as a kind of escapism and fantasy to actually enacting the fantasy in real life.

Thomson’s viewership and scholarship is nearly unlimited, but he seems to know a lot about film noir, as one of the chapters significantly focuses on noir. Other chapters focus on other film trends, but sometimes the chapters aren’t completely historical or thematic, and his style moves around a bit. At first, I found these transitions a little hard to follow, but as the book progressed, I appreciated his thinking and linking more and more. At times, Thomson has a kind of conversational style where it’s almost as if he’s sitting in a room sharing all of his ideas and observations that have built up over years of viewership with the reader. At other times, he makes humorous asides and suggestions about films, actors, directors, and themes. I appreciated how critical he was of the need to sustain a commercial audience, and how popular tastes and the Hays Code influenced the earlier film industry. Other chapters on Orson Welles’ brilliance are also fascinating to read to really understand how Citizen Kane both established and in some ways limited Welles’ career. Thomson goes on to examine certain trends in films that emerged in the 1930s throughout the 1970s, noting how world events like the Great Depression, World War II, and the Cold War influenced film themes and tropes, including villains, heroes, the roles of women, and the need for sex and violence in films, even if these ideas are implied more than explicitly stated or displayed. Again, through his insight, Thomson explores how films are more of a window facing inwards, in our own psyches and human nature, rather than a mirror reflecting reality, and often giving us what we may desire or want rather than showing us an objective truth.

A Sudden Flicker of Light is a fascinating read; one that will challenge readers’ understandings and thoughts about film and popular media and how it shapes our own understanding to the world. It’s a book I will need to revisit since there are so many different ideas, but it’s also an important book to consider due to how Thomson raises important questions about our own viewership (or voyeurism) and how the trends and themes films explore have not only altered us on an individual level, but also how they have shifted ideas, attitudes, and beliefs in society. I loved this book and highly recommend it!