Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts

Friday, October 23, 2026

Truth and a Woman: You Can See Everything

"One wrote: 'Wine is strong.'

Another wrote: 'A king is stronger.'

The third wrote: 'Women are stronger still: but Truth is victorious over all things.'"

-1 Esdras (Hebrew wisdom literature, 4th-2nd centuries BC)

_____________________________________________________________________________________

"FYI you can totally see everything." 

-Elizabeth Holmes (Theranos founder, AD 2023)

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ever since I saw You Can See Everything, the new "documentary" from Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim, in a packed theater on its opening night, I have not been able to stop thinking about it. It has wormed its way into both my active, rational thoughts and the images and atmosphere in between; it has made its way into my dreams. Layer upon layer, image upon image, moment upon moment, symbol upon symbol: all revolving around the figure of a woman and a liar.

It was only after many days of this, though, that I remembered, suddenly and like a bolt out of the blue, one of my favorite passages of ancient literature, from an enigmatic book that almost no one has read, because it almost made it into the Bible but didn't; and realized, in a thought that probably only I in the entire history of the human race have ever had, "1 Esdras and You Can See Everything are about the same thing."

1 Esdras, the clumsy Latinate name used by scholars writing in English for a text composed probably in Hebrew but surviving only in the Greek Septuagint translation made under the Ptolemies in Egypt, is a mysterious text. It is, most likely, a rearranged and expanded version of the canonical book of Ezra. Oddly, though, the Jewish scholar Josephus, one of our earliest witnesses to the Biblical text in general, seems to have only known 1 Esdras, and not the book we now know as Ezra. Some people have argued that it was the original, and what we now call Ezra an expurgated, rationalized copy. 

Regardless of which is the original and which the copy, though, it is the presence or absence of one central story that defines the two texts and dictates their arrangements: the "dispute of the bodyguards." Entirely absent from Ezra even in outline, this is in 1 Esdras the centerpiece of the book: a lengthy, rhetorically elaborate contest of speeches between three bodyguards of the Persian king Darius over the abstract question of "what is the strongest." The candidates for the strongest thing in existence are four: wine, kings, women, and the truth. 

The winner of the contest is the only one to argue for two, hierarchically-arranged options: women above all things, and the truth above women. This bodyguard's name is Zerubbabel; which is a really strange detail. 

Zerubbel is in fact a historical figure, recorded in Ezra and Nehemiah as a member of the Judaic royal house and the leader of the first group of Jewish exiles to return to Jerusalem, nearly eighty years before Ezra or Nehemiah themselves arrived on the scene. He is thus a figure of incredible importance in the scope of the Hebrew Bible: the prophesied continuation of the Davidic line, the rebuilder of the Temple, the restorer of the people to the land, the ender of the exile.

For all that, though, there is something rather problematic about Zerubbabel. He is purportedly of the Davidic line, grandson of a previous King of Judah before the fall of Jerusalem in 587 BC. His name, however, is Babylonian twice over: Akkadian rather than Hebrew, and meaning "offspring of Babyon." Though glorified by the Prophets Haggai and Zechariah as a chosen instrument of God, he never held the rank of King of Judah or Israel: rather, he served as Persian governor of the broader province. And though he laid the foundations of what would become the Second Temple, he never saw it completed or even, apparently, worked on it all that much. The canonical books of Ezra and Nehemiah both show the work of Jewish restoration barely begun decades later, requiring drastic intervention from their valorized titular characters. One could be forgiven for thinking that a lot of people found Zerubbabel rather disappointing.

For all that, Zerubbabel is undeniably a tantalizing figure, a person chosen for a critical task at a critical moment but himself unknown and mostly unknowable, a suggestion of greater things as yet unfulfilled. In both the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Luke, he is remembered as an ancestor of Jesus. 

What 1 Esdras ultimately gives us, then, is a startling and bizarre recontextualization of both this pivotal figure in Jewish history and his banner accomplishment. In the central story of the text, we see Zerubbabel not as a scion of the Jewish royal house, not as a triumphant restorer of Jewish statehood, not even as a Persian governor, but as a young, indistinguishable bodyguard serving the King of Persia Darius. It is all three of the bodyguards, collectively, who decide, while the king is sleeping off his latest feast, to set a rhetorical contest and make its prize the granting of anything the winner asks. It is only when he wins this seemingly random competition that Zerubbabel takes the opportunity to ask the King of Persia to let him return to Jerusalem and rebuild the Temple. 

Both the young bodyguard's identification with Zerubbabel and his request to rebuild Jerusalem are, in 1 Esdras, genuine plot twists--almost rug pulls. The more people knew about Zerubbabel, Davidic princeling and Persian restorer, the less reason they would have to associate his famous name with an anonymous bodyguard playing a minor role in a folkloric contest of cleverness. It is only when the third bodyguard's big speech comes that we finally are told his name--and it is only after he has won the contest that we realize his goal. All along, it turns out, this bizarre and seemingly random exchange among bodyguards in the royal bedchamber was the secret, hidden means by which God restored the exile of his people. 

But was Zerubbabel right about women?

In 2023, Nathan Fielder moved into Elizabeth Holmes' house with a director and a camera crew. He knew who Elizabeth Holmes was: everyone did. She was a liar.

By the time three years had gone by, though, he had apparently come to believe that she was telling the truth after all: or at least, that she perhaps was incapable of understanding that what she was saying wasn't the truth; or perhaps, that she was a victim of someone else, and so sympathetic whether or not she was a liar; or perhaps merely that he wanted to believe her; or perhaps merely that he loved her. 

As Amanda Seyfried says in the film's closing line, "It's very complicated." It is also, though, very much like life. And it is this, and not any number of meta-commentaries about truth and knowability proffered by people online, that makes You Can See Everything my favorite movie of the year 2026.

Tuesday, September 22, 2026

On Being a God in the Modern Age

A History of Japanese Religion; Joker 2; The Life of Charles de Gaulle

How does a man become a god?

Recently in this space, I discussed some of the more negative consequences of the human desire for transcendence--including that its rather frequently issuing in open or disguised impulses toward annihilation. 

While known in some measure to all of us, however, the desire for destruction is not an ordinary or common outcome of the human desire for transcendence. Much more common, because more rational, is the simple, obvious, straightforward desire to be God.

Of course, when I say that that desire is simple, obvious, and straightforward, I am speaking of the desire in and of itself, which flows directly from the nature and essence and rational constitution of the human being. As rational animals, human beings are defined by their ability to know: which is to say, to grasp, internalize, and become one with anything and everything there is. This rational capacity is by necessity infinite, not confinable to any particular set or subset of beings, and hence intrinsically capable of being fulfilled only by the transcendent, unified, simple, rational, and communicable infinity of being itself--which is to say, God. To know a thing is in a sense to be that thing--though not to remove the otherness or alterity of the thing in relation to oneself. Hence, all human beings by necessity desire to be God.

Of course, as Aquinas pointed out, God is an end that entirely escapes the grasp of man's reason; or, in other words, the knowledge of God does not and cannot take away God's infinite transcendence and infinite otherness to the human person--which is why the one absolute and ineluctable and perpetual and inescapable requirement for knowing God to any degree whatsoever or even to becoming one with him is that quality which Christians have called "humility," that act which Jews and pagans have called "sacrifice," and that absolute transformation of the self into an entity capable of knowing God not by any natural capacity but solely by means of God himself that comes only through crucifixion and death and might well be called "annihilation."

Monday, September 7, 2026

On the Necessity of Time Travel for Human Life

The Last Showgirl, The History of the Armenian Genocide, Soft Sounds From Another Planet, Magnolia

Striving for goodness
while the cruel men win.

How do you recover an irrecoverable defeat? How do you undo the past?

In 2026, this is an increasingly urgent question, not just for individual persons, but for America and the world: as one era comes crashing down, and another, perhaps, prepares to begin. 

The most uncanny thing to me about living in 2026 is simply the way that everyone, elite and ordinary, Right and Left, talks--which is simply the way characters used to talk in Star Trek episodes about time travel.

Captain Picard takes Captain Garrett and aside and confides to her in a rushed, furtive tone, his eyes lowered: "The war is going very badly for the Federation, far worse than is generally known. Starfleet Command believes defeat is inevitable. Within six months we may have no choice but to surrender." The point of this intervention, though, is not to help prepare her or the public for inevitable defeat, or even to reverse the tide of war and give the Federation victory after all--it is to convince her to go back in time and change the past. "One more ship will make no difference in the here and now. But twenty two years ago, one ship could have stopped this war before it started."

To stop the war before it started. This is the real or concealed preoccupation, it seems to me, of almost every American today. Certainly, it is the main preoccupation of the American President, whose entire political program at present consists of making or pretending to make it so the war he started with the Islamic Republic of Iran was never started, the global energy crisis he caused was never caused, the critical munitions shortage he precipitated was never precipitated, the economic bubble he inflated was never inflated, or, in short, that pretty much everything he has done since taking office in 2024 was never done. Meanwhile, in Israel, Benjamin Netanyahu works overtime to pretend that the never-ending genocidal campaign and never-ending security crisis and accelerating collapse of the Israeli state that he himself has caused is all simply a bad dream. In Iran, meanwhile, a predatory military elite works continually to unravel their entire state and economy in real time, in the desperate homicidal hope that, somewhere across the world, all the other states and economies are unraveling faster. 

This sense of desperate undoing, though, extends far beyond the halls of power: indeed, it is hardly too much to say that it has become a kind of manic leitmotif for almost all institutions everywhere. I spoke recently of a desire for death, for annihilation, as a driver behind the institutional chaos we see around us--and I still believe this is true. Before that, I talked about the remarkable dominance of nostalgia in politics and culture--and I still think that is true. Increasingly, though, I think the most immediate desire animating America is not so much death or nostalgia as time travel. Whatever was done in the last five years, ten years, twenty years, thirty years, must be undone: including sometimes the very existence of the institutions and movements and beliefs that ruled those times.

And really, people have a point! Since at least the financial crisis of 2008-2009, political and economic and academic elites the world over have worked very hard, and invested enormous amounts of resources, in building up a new, all-encompassing economic, political, social, and cultural infrastructure centered in tech companies and the Internet--an effort that has only very recently and belatedly been given the terribly inaccurate moniker of AI. Looking back, more or less everyone now agrees that effort was, by and large, a mistake: that it has made the world poorer, lonelier, less populated, more frightened, weaker, more divided, more fragile, and more unhappy. 

It is in fact true that unimaginable resources and time and effort and belief that might have been spent on any number of other things--including, say, the American munitions stockpile, or the American transportation infrastructure, or clean energy, or prison reform, or housing, or mental health care, or physical health care, or actually effective welfare systems, or poverty relief, or community-building, or parental support, or mass redistribution of resources, or even movies that people wanted to watch and games they wanted to play, have instead been plowed wholesale into a metastatizing Soviet-style private-public tech bureaucracy whose ultimate goal and telos and outcome all along, it turns out, was unemployed homeless people sitting on crumbling streets beneath mansions watching AI-generated pornography on individual smartphones to the deafening tones of data center cooling systems. This is a hyperbole--but one that is nevertheless truer to the actual present reality of catastrophic American economic and cultural collapse than any statistical statement.

The real trouble, though, is that this effort was never, at any time, confined to American elites--it was, at one time or another, not only supported but fervently trusted and hoped in by Americans of every class and race and party. Even those who never consciously believed in it, though, have had their lives entirely transformed by its efforts--and not just economically. We all, techno-optimist or techno-pessimist, Christian or secular, have walked around these last years with a little phone in our pockets--and so at one time or other have felt the ghostly, preternatural touch of the technical regime on our daily habits, our imaginations, our dreams, our deepest desires, our most intimate and interior selves. What is to be undone is not just political, not just economic, not even just technological, but profoundly, deeply, devastatingly personal.

Most people, of course, would not say in so many words that they actually want to undo the last twenty years of technological development; nevertheless, if you ask them what they want, what they fear, what they support, and what they oppose, it mostly centers on changing the past.

For a huge part of America today, that involves a completely explicit desire to go back in time ten years and make it so that Donald Trump was never elected President--or at the very least, make it so that absolutely no trace of any effect of his Presidency remains. Meanwhile, Trumpism 2.0 has largely consisted of various flailing efforts to undo, uncreate, and unmake--beginning with the 2020 election and Biden's Presidency, but extending rapidly to the US aid and development policy that began in the 1960s, the free trade policies crystallized since the 1990s, the immigration surge of the 2000s onward, and at times extending to more or less the entire Federal government and nearly everything that has happened since WW2. 

Culturally, things are if anything even clearer--with AI acting as both the hostile provoker and force multiplier of an unprecedented turn towards nostalgia and simulation as the prevailing notes of culture. From music to movies to television to video games to food, people love most what no longer exists.

To repeat, then: in the year 2026, every major issue, every pressing concern, every fundamental debate, and nearly every passion and hope and desire centers straightforwardly on how we can change the past.

But can we change the past? And if so, how? 

To examine this question, in best Adventures of Captain Peabody fashion, I will be writing about a historical tragedy, an indie album, a Las Vegas show, and a movie about regret. 

Wednesday, July 29, 2026

Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey is a Sign of the Times

Since I wrote my totally-completely-absolutely-justified-I-would-not-take-back-a-single-world denunciation of Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer three years ago, a number of people have told me I was wrong and tried to argue with me about it. I, meanwhile, have been waiting for an apology.

Is Christopher Nolan's Odyssey a personal apology to me for having made Oppenheimer? Did the British-American filmmaker whose movies have made over $6 billion over the past three decades read my blog review of Oppenheimer, feel its profound truth, and attempt to personally make up for it to me by making a Classics-derived film about the importance of trust and inter-personal bonds?

I doubt it! Nonetheless, this is what I've been asking myself ironically ever since I first heard of the project however many years ago it was announced. Meanwhile, a friend paid for my ticket so I could see it in theaters and report back on my thoughts. 

Well, after seeing all three hours of Nolan's take on Homer's take on the story of a man trying to get home, though I can't praise the movie that much, I can mostly accept the apology. 

Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey is not a great adaptation of Homer's The Odyssey, or a great Hollywood epic, or even a great film; it is, however, a film that captures our times, and in the process tells one very important truth.

Thursday, July 9, 2026

Everlasting Life: Annihilation, Captain Sir Richard Francis Burton, Stalin and the Bomb, The Unconsoled

"You can combine up to a certain point; you can distort up to a certain point; after that you lose the identity; and with that you lose everything. [...] A thing that has changed entirely has not changed at all. It has no bridge of crisis. It can remember no change. If you wake up tomorrow and you simply are Mrs. Dope, an old woman who lets lodgings at Broadstairs—well, I don’t doubt Mrs. Dope is a saner and happier person than you are. But in what way have you progressed? What part of you is better? Don’t you see this prime fact of identity is the limit set on all living things?”

“No,” said Phillip, with suppressed but sudden violence, “I deny that any limit is set upon living things.”

-G.K. Chesterton, The Flying Inn (1914)

We live in a time where more and more people want to stop existing. Considered historically, this is a surprisingly common desire--and a key to understanding many things present and past otherwise incomprehensible.

Last year, numerous otherwise normal people online, and an even greater number of abnormal people online, and also many people working for the United States Federal Government, embraced a twenty-year-old meme in which Werner Herzog narrates a single pilgrim penguin inexplicably leaving its colony and heading out into the frozen tundra to die alone in the cold. While for the old-fashioned pessimistic humanist Herzog this was supposed to once again point out the inhumanity and cruelty of the natural world which humans must transcend through reason, for innumerable people in America today this nihilistic story about an individual seeking death through isolation was instead seen as inspirational, even aspirational. Numerous otherwise sane people started talking about "Being the Penguin" as though lonely death by exposure and starvation was a desirable goal--and perhaps, for them, it was. Whatever Americans are in 2026, we certainly are not normal.

Still, if Americans are abnormal, they remain human; and our passion for death can in fact be understood in the light of universal human nature, via the concept and pragmatic, ethical reality of transcendence, which understood properly is as foundational to human action as food and drink is to human bodily life.

If, as Aristotle says, the soul is in a sense all things, at least by way of relation and telos, then the soul quite naturally and necessarily wants to transcend itself. If, as Aquinas says, man is ordered towards God as to an end that transcends his reason, then man quite naturally and necessarily desires to transcend himself. 

Transcendence, though, is a confusing concept. In the most basic sense, one thing transcends another when it has something in common with it, but also goes beyond it. In the proper Thomistic-metaphysical sense, one thing transcends a group of other things when it contains all their perfections in a higher, simpler, and more eminent way. Either way, though, a puzzle emerges: for what could it possibly mean for a thing to transcend itself?

One rather simple answer to that question might be that a thing transcends itself when it ceases to be itself, and becomes something else. If today I am Nathan Israel Smolin, and tomorrow I cease to be Nathan Israel Smolin and become Captain Bob "Captain Peabody" Peabody, a blue clayman veteran of the Second World War and also a blogger, there can be no doubt that I have transcended Nathan Israel Smolin in at least some sense. As Captain Peabody I can certainly reflect with satisfaction that I have left behind all the difficulties and limitations of Nathan-Israel-Smolin-hood; as well as in the concomitant fact that as Captain Peabody I will evince perfections and have experiences that Nathan Israel Smolin could never have had. And if it is the case that Nathan Israel Smolin must and will inevitably die, a transformation into Captain Peabody could well extend my life, and an indefinite series of such transformations extend it indefinitely, and so constitute a kind of eternal life beyond the span of human years.

For all that, though, there are (at least) two reasons that such a transformation does not constitute transcendence in either its metaphysical or ethical senses. The first is the simple fact that in gaining the perfections and advantages and experiences and memories and indefinable spark of being a blue clayman with a large apparent-rocket-launcher attached to the right side of my body I will have at the same time lost the indefinable spark of being Nathan Israel Smolin. Or, put another way, I will not have transcended or moved beyond the entire category of human (and clayman) personalities in such a way as to contain all the perfections of them in a supereminent way; rather, I will simply have moved from one member of that category to another. Or, put in the most fundamental way of all, I will not have found eternal life, but died.

In the second place comes the difficulty pointed out by G.K. Chesterton (via the honorable Dorian Wimpole) above, that in ceasing to be Nathan Israel Smolin I have in the proper sense simply ceased to be. Human personality and personhood, it turns out, is not simply an accidental relation added to a kind of quasi-physical substance; as rational beings, our personhood defines and constitutes each one of us in toto, body and soul. Even if (arguendum) in the transformation from Smolin to Peabody and from flesh to clay every single atom currently present in my body were kept and none discarded, the mere fact of altering my personal and rational identity from that of a human being from Alabama to a clayman from Claymatia would involve my destruction. For a transformation to be an improvement, let alone a true form of transcendence, something of the original must be preserved and survive the transition.

As I have pointed out before in this space, America has over the past fifty years been obsessed with the concept and term of identity as no other in history--even while showing little or no understanding of what identity actually is. 

If personhood and personality and therefore identity is for rational beings (as both Aristotle and Aquinas new) fundamentally defined and even constituted by relation, we could quite easily predict that the pervasive isolation and atomization of our society would result in an obsessive fixation on identity. People always become obsessively fixated on important things they are in the process of losing. And if at times our society has seemed to show a kind of naive utopian optimism about identity as such--assuming as an article of faith that every asserted or imagined or even merely vaguely felt identity was ipso facto good and just and necessary for happiness and compatible with every other identity--we can also recognize in this identitarianist optimism the kind of avoidant magical thinking present in nearly every psychological experience of loss.

Still, if there is a primal terror that makes us cling to our identities against the world, if there is an animalistic rage that makes us use them as weapons, if there is an avoidant naiveté that makes us accept any and every identity merely as a shield against the infinite dark, there is nonetheless no denying that there is also, deeply rooted in us, a desire to transcend our identities, chosen or unchosen, shallow or deep; and that this desire can quite easily be twisted into an unslakable thirst for annihilation.

In the remaining paragraphs of this essay, then, I will be tracing this human thirst for annihilation through a number of different fictional stories and historical accounts, in all of which we will be attempting to understand the human proclivity for self-destruction not through the lenses of ethics or metaphysics, but via psychology and narrative and history. By understanding these accounts, we will, hopefully, come closer to understanding ourselves and our society--and in so doing, hopefully learn to counter the thirst for death wherever it is found in America, in others, and in ourselves.

Thursday, June 11, 2026

Three Lessons for Starfleet Academy

Star Trek has reached a crisis and juncture and turning point--which is not unusual.

If my very lengthy series of essays on this blog laying out (in rather inaccurate fashion) the history of Star Trek have anything to say, it is that Star Trek is not and never has been a simple, single formula or genre or thing or "vision" of Gene Roddenberry or anyone else. Most of what makes Star Trek interesting to me, in fact, is the intensely collaborative nature of the (now extinct) genre of network television, and how tied Star Trek has always been, not to any particularly original treatment of science fiction or politics, but rather with the ever-shifting personal and political and utopian visions of America looking at itself.

Anyway, more or less since the year 1966, Star Trek has been in crisis: beginning with the initial crisis of its failed first pilot, extending through the crisis of its too-expensive budget and too-low ratings, through the crisis of its first cancellation, through the crisis of its second cancellation, and ending with the crisis of its true and final cancellation after its third season. 

Then began the terrible monstrous crisis of trying to revive Star Trek, which took up most of the 1970s, got a lot of people fired, and resulted in dozens of unproduced scripts, lots of unused design work, one terrible cartoon show, and one terrible (but sublime) film. Then there was the terrible horrible crisis of TNG's birth and first two years, then the crisis of how to do a TNG spinoff in the '90s, and a lot of other crises that I refuse to summarize in this sentence.

Certainly Star Trek has been in crisis since the year 2005, when Star Trek Enterprise was unceremoniously cancelled after four seasons. There are a lot of things one could say about Enterprise--and maybe one day I'll say them--but perhaps the most relevant is that its demise is impossible to untangle from the gradual and now irreversible decline of network television, television networks, and indeed television itself. 

In 1995, Star Trek Voyager had debuted as the flagship show of the new network UPN; in 2001, Star Trek Enterprise took over that role; in 2005, Star Trek Enterprise ended; and in 2006 UPN itself went the way of the dodo. Its successor, the CW, has like most of network television continued to limp along til the present day, gradually losing viewership and profitability and shows: it now runs more or less exclusively sports, news, reality, and variety shows, with its last produced scripted drama show set to end this summer. 

A few years later, though, Star Trek took to the big screen, attempting to join the "Marvel rush" of would-be blockbuster films greenlit by executives desperate to find any even vaguely comic-book-esque franchise (Battleship? Emojis?) to share in the bounty: and, like most of their peers, met with mixed success. JJ Abrams' Star Trek produced three successful, popular films that nonetheless were considered disappointments by the studio for not matching the grosses or profit margins of true blockbusters: and Star Trek was once again left to die.

While all this was going on, a little website called Netflix was introducing on-demand streaming to the world: an event that not only accelerated the decline of network television, but also led to a desperate attempt by any and every studio to replicate Netflix's success. In 2014, CBS, the owner of the Star Trek shows, released CBS All Access (later Paramount Plus), a transparent desperate cash grab with a complete dearth of original content whose main selling point was that it had the old Star Trek shows available to watch. And so, a new era began, where the hoary network-television entity Star Trek would be retailored for a new age of free-flowing subscriber cash, maximal budgets, and an ever-increasing demand for content. 

And then, of course, the streaming economy completely collapsed, and studios began cutting back massively, cancelling and reducing budgets across the board in a desperate attempt to figure out how the new model of streaming television could possibly be profitable. 

Hence, the latest Star Trek show, Starfleet Academy was cancelled shortly after the airing of its first season ended, and probably more than a year before its already filmed second season was set to be released (the date has not yet been announced): as I write this, its sets are being auctioned off publicly for peanuts. Strange New Worlds, despite having two seasons left to air, has also already finished filming its fifth and final season: and for the first time since Star Trek Discovery began in 2017 there are no Star Trek productions filming anywhere in the world.

Meanwhile, Paramount is in the process of being bought out by Skydance, run by the son of Trump ally and CEO of massive-beneficiary-of-circular-AI-deals Oracle Larry Ellison in a monopolistic bargain that numerous Hollywood and Star Trek stars are currently protesting, but which many people on the Internet either hope or fear will make Star Trek stop being woke--reactions themselves occasioned by the massive, politicized online backlash to Starfleet Academy for being woke and/or having a gay Klingon. And as the Culture War (and also a real war) rages on, Star Trek fans around the world wait, and watch, and bemoan the fact that (undeniably) Star Trek is In Crisis, that (once again) Star Trek As We Know It Is Over, and wonder if anyone, anywhere can perhaps (in a stunningly original neologism that I just came up with) Make Star Trek Great Again.

As the dust settles, though, those of us not engaged in furious online debates over Wokeness (an online term for things that are cool from the year 2015) versus Anti-Wokeness (an online term for American conservatism from the year 2019) can once again take stock, reflect, and post absurdly long essays on Star Trek to our blogs. Or as Quark said, "the more things change, the more they stay the same."

Abstracting (quod sit impossibile) from the political and economic situation of America, the fact remains that a lot of people have not been particularly happy with the 2017-2025, streaming-bubble, Alex Kurtsman era of Star Trek. Some of those people have been merely grumpy old men who vastly prefer rewatching another episode of Star Trek TNG to watching any new show whatsoever or spending time with their wives; but some have been people who had legitimate issues with the actual creative quality of these shows. And what is more, this era of Star Trek, taken as a whole, has in fact resoundingly failed to recapture the general audience lost to Star Trek c. 2000, so that Star Trek is less culturally relevant in the year 2026 than it has ever been, even during the 2005-2009 interregnum, and is more or less the least culturally relevant franchise still producing content--significantly less relevant, alas, than The Fast and the Furious, whose proposed eleventh film is currently bogged down in production hell.

Hence, it is my goal in this post to Do My Duty as a Star Trek Fan (i.e. tedious old man) and do the hard work of drawing some lessons from the recently completed era of Star Trek to, hopefully, offer to future generations and/or future runners of the Star Trek franchise. Unfortunately, it is too late for the actual writers and producers of Starfleet Academy to benefit from them: but the below "lessons" are still offered in the somewhat aggressive, ironic, tongue-in-cheek spirit of one educator speaking to another. 

Star Trek has in its history been run by everyone from an ex-Southern-Baptist ex-cop (Gene Roddenberry) to a Jewish ex-Quiz-Kid (Harve Bennett) to a Jewish writer of Sherlock Holmes novels (Nicholas Meyer) to a Jewish actor-turned-director (Leonard Nimoy) to another Jewish actor-turned-failed-director (William Shatner) to a Jewish documentary producer (Rick Berman) to a Jewish writer with a blue beard and an obsession with Las Vegas (Ira Steven Behr) to a Jewish writer of Transformers films (Alex Kurtsman): and I for one am eagerly awaiting the next anointed one in this storied lineage.

For after all, when Woke and Anti-Woke both disappear into the mists, reality will remain: and so will things like aesthetics and framing and character and story and plot and themes and meaning and the true and the good and the beautiful. Also, just FYI, budgets really matter.

Monday, February 2, 2026

Melania 2026 and the Fossilization of Power

Melania 2026 and the Fossilization of Power

What is power?

This is not, or should not be, a difficult question to answer. 

The most basic definition of power might be something like "making something happen." A more metaphysical answer might be "the actualization of potential existence by actual existence." A more human answer, encompassing pretty much every society and form of power throughout history, might be something like "the ability to make what you want happen." 

The human answer quite naturally connects power with desire or will--and in so doing explains why power is universally seen as something good or desirable by humans. All three definitions, though, show with equal clarity the basic directionality or teleology of power: actuality actualizing potency and something making something else happen. You want power because you will or desire that something happen--and because power itself is essentially and totally ordered to making something happen.

Yet, if power is defined by teleology, will, and desire, it is essentially and totally dependent on things outside itself--on the will and desire and actuality of the being that wields it, and on the being it is ordered to producing. Indeed, power is essentially and totally, not a thing in itself, even a being in itself, but merely a relation between beings. Potential being is actualized by already actual being, and in so doing produces more actual being: someone makes something happen. Without either actual term, power is incoherent and cannot exist. 

In being fulfilled, though, in causing something to be, power or potency is always and totally, as it were, used up, fulfilled, ended in the base etymological sense of the Greek telos. In the terms of Aristotelean and Thomist theology, God himself is what you get when the power of all being is entirely used up, leaving no conceivable potency whatsoever. God is finished, and in that sense powerless.

(Of course, though God himself has eternally completed in himself everything that could be, he still retains a free, contingent will that can, when and how he chooses, make other, lesser things exist, in a secondary, derivative sense, out of sheer gratuitous generosity. When he wills or desires it, he can make things happen, and so wield power.)

All this proem is merely a way to say that the reason why people have from the beginnings of the human race universally wanted power is because there were things they wanted to happen. Which is to say, they were actual beings of will and desire who willed things that they saw as desirable but as yet only possible and so in need of being actualized--or, more simply, because they wanted what they wanted to happen. For this reason, though, the end of power is always and everywhere not power itself, but what you want: power is only and solely a means. 

Or, in other words: if people in fact want something, then they will want the power to get that thing, and nothing more or less. If they want different things, then they will want the perhaps very different form or degree of power necessary to get that other thing. If they do not happen to want anything, though, they will not want power. It is, really, that simple.

I watched Melania in theaters. It is the most devastating film I have seen since The Last Showgirl. It is also one of the greatest films I have ever seen, precisely because of its brutal, unstinting look at the spiraling whirlpool that is the contemporary American cult of power. 

I should say that I am not sure the film's devastating surrealism is entirely intentional--but I am also far from certain it is entirely unintentional. Rather, what makes the film great is precisely its artistic devotion to vividly and truthfully chronicling the artifice and craft of power as it is actually practiced by the rulers of the greatest Empire in the history of the human race--and because it centers on someone who is clearly an absolute master of this craft. Melania Trump, whatever else she may be, is a great artist--even if, like many great artists, she does not appear to consciously understand almost anything of what she is doing and why, and even if, also like many great artists, her life appears to be a living hell.

As with my review of Oppenheimer, a devastating film that compelled me to immediately struggle to process just what about it I viscerally hated, I find it very hard to capture just what made Melania such a terrifying and alienating and powerful experience for me. It would be easiest to just point to random details and moments in the film, moments that are indelibly graven upon my mind and heart and will probably never leave it.

Four people cluster around a glassy table in the impossibly ornate and labyrinthine and gigantic red-and-gold interior of Trump Towers, mirrors upon mirrors upon glass upon carpet curling in and ever in and around on themselves. They are waiting for Melania. She enters, a stiff figure in black and white, and they jump to life and begin their performances: the French fashion designer with his exaggerated mugging and rushed faux-friendliness, the rumpled American fashion designer with his large smiles and air of suppressed tension, the two Asian tailors in black-and-white uniforms standing silent and concerned in the background of every shot. 

They show her the suit for the Inauguration. Everything is perfect, she tells them with stiffly exaggerated friendliness, but the fabric is wrong, as is the waist, as is the lapel. She tells them matter-of-factly the specific changes she will need: they agree with each one enthusiastically. Then she leaves the room, and for about thirty seconds the camera lingers on these four people as they cluster around the table, talking in rushed, tense, oddly frustrated voices, trying to conform to her demands. "It is impossible," the male Asian tailor says. Then the camera follows the female Asian tailor as she leaves the room, in and around golden walls and golden paneling, and begins to climb a golden spiral staircase, up and around and up and around and--

Melania Trump, more than perhaps any First Lady since Jackie Kennedy, has a style and aesthetic of her own, one manifested throughout the film. Yet this aesthetic is, when one looks at it objectively, rather strange. In many different scenes, Melania tries on and requests alterations to and finally performs in a number of different outfits: but both the outfits and her alterations are always more or less the same. 

Melania's aesthetic, it turns out, can be rather easily summarized: black and white--which, she says at one point, are "her colors"--and straight lines, which she again and again demands alterations to achieve even in already quite straight garments, making sure the small bit of white blouse showing under her black coat is straight, making sure the neckline of her strapless white-and-black ballgown is straight, making sure her inauguration coat falls straight, tensely pointing to where the white strap around her black hat seems to her rounded and "loose" and not nearly straight enough. Every time she dons these similar black-and-white straight garments, her fashion designers praise them--but she simply stares stiffly in the mirror, tensely checking to make sure that she is as black and white and straight as she should be.

At one point, her designer tells her that a dress is "so you." But who is the "you" expressed by these severe confections of straight lines in white and black, by these oddly scripted and formal and stiff interactions with subordinates? Or is that really the question?

Thursday, January 8, 2026

Who Will Rule in the Age to Come?

Who Will Rule in the Age to Come? 

Captain America: Brave New World; Caliphate Redefined; One Battle After Another; Eddington

I am apparently the last person in America who does not think that America is coming to an end.

In my last mega-essay on this blog, I posited that what has defined America and Americans most for the past hundred or two years has been a shared concept of heroism, which among other things has meant a shared devotion to death. Still, as I acknowledged at length in that essay, this heroic, mythological sense of America has been in actual history not the name of a nation or a nature or a people or institution or government or Empire, but merely the defining ideal of a particular Imperial elite, a homo imperialis. This nomadic elite has within the United States itself monopolized nearly all the positions of power in government, business, culture, and even religion once held by local and regional elites: and in the last century it has expanded its invisible networks of commerce and governance to encompass the entire world. For all that, as I suggested, its imprint on the ancient settled peoples of the world remains, like many Imperial predecessors, surprisingly light nonetheless. 

In the last few years, though, increasing drastically since January 2025, I have encountered people who seem to think, or who in fact tell me, that America itself is on the verge of ending: by which they do not merely mean that American global hegemony will collapse, or that the United States federal government will collapse, but that life as ordinary Americans themselves have known it will entirely cease to be.

Once again, it is hard not to be struck by just how profoundly the most basic, underlying assumptions of people in America have entirely shifted over the past three or four decades. For about half of my life, everyone I met assumed on the deepest, most inchoate level that America would last forever. By this they did not merely mean that some vague American cultural distinctiveness or territorial unity or economic and social life would last forever: they really seemed to mean that the United States Federal Government and the Alabama State Government and the US Constitution and c. 2008 consensus liberal capitalist progressivism and Alphabet co. and Coca-Cola, inc and Verizon Communications Inc and Starbucks Corporation and McDonald's Corporation and Dr Pepper 7UP Inc and World of Warcraft and Barney the Dinosaur and Captain America would all be doing just fine a thousand years from now. 

And so as a child I would scandalize people, sometimes deliberately, more often accidentally, by merely stating that all of these things would inevitably fall apart and cease to be: as indeed they will. As the ancients knew well, nothing intrinsically bound up with change and decay and entropy and corruptibility can conceivably last forever, because to do so would contradict its most basic nature and the most basic nature of the sublunar world. 

Of course, if America in some or any of these senses was not merely another cultural or political or commercial entity, but rather the manifestation or even fulfillment of a transcendent spiritual entity and/or pseudo-Hegelian world-soul and/or immanentized divinity acting through particular historical conditions and institutions, then of course things would be different, and we would expect this to last forever, at least in some form. And this, I really and truly believe, is what virtually everyone in America, from Evangelical Christians to secular humanists and from conservatives to leftists, deep down really and truly believed when I was a child.

When I was a child, the smart adults told me to watch Babylon 5, because it was a smarter version of Star Trek Deep Space Nine. Now that I am an adult, I can recognize that Star Trek Deep Space Nine is a profoundly great work of art, and Babylon 5 is a profoundly stupid piece of art. The primary (though by no means only) reason for this is that Deep Space Nine is in essence a television show defined by a fundamental doubt about whether it is in fact possible, and whether it would in fact be good, if the history of all peoples ended in a perpetually progressing American-liberal-militarist-Imperialist non-theistic-pseudo-religion immanentized-divinity technological-Geist heaven. On the other hand, Babylon 5 is a show defined above all else by the fervent, unswaying assertion that it will in fact be very, very, very good when the history of all peoples ends in a perpetually progressing American-liberal-militarist-Imperialist non-theistic-pseudo-religion immanentized-divinity technological-Geist heaven. In the final season of Babylon 5, after the US Military has committed a heroic and righteous and democratic military coup against the elected President of the United States, and after all the gods have been told by our American military/cult-leader hero to get the hell out of our Galaxy, the Interstellar Alliance is formed, a vast and vague liberal-democratic-proceduralist multi-cultural American government founded in a boring ceremony written by the prophet of a new non-theistic, pan-cultural religion, after which (to quote the inestimable "Babylon 5 wiki"):

"The Interstellar Alliance survived and fulfilled its duties for well over one million years after its formation, with the names of all major players in the ISA's creation remembered and even revered throughout this time. By this time the ISA had achieved mastery over organic technology, with some of its member races evolving beyond the need for physical bodies, becoming beings of energy."

To which the only possible response is AMEN!

Anyway, it is no longer 1998: and now instead people tell me that America and/or the world will end in a year or five years or twenty years. And I don't believe that either.

The secret to both of these remarkable states of affairs, I would argue, is one and the same: which is once again that despite having lost faith in the goodness of the immanentized divinities that have in modernity defined every institution and belief system, people still cannot help regarding institutions and peoples and realities in their light. If America ceases to be believed in as the final divine ending of all of human history, people assume deep down that America will simply cease to exist, or at least that its sleigh will stop running like Santa Claus' in Elf. And yet, most things in the world, even most human institutions, do not in fact cease to exist when people stop believing in them: that is, in fact, kind of the whole problem. 

This belief admittedly takes very different forms. If many right-wing people who host podcasts and have Twitter accounts are right, then after the desperate failed rally of Trumpism fades, America will be overrun with Third World barbarians and become a lawless gangland split between different Somalian and Mexican warlords. If the smart people who write for the New Yorker and are interviewed on NPR are right, then some benevolent divine entity called Democracy will abandon the earth and return to the heavens, another malicious divine entity called Fascism will descend in its place, and...well, for an awful lot of them actually America will again become a lawless gangland split between different Somalian and Mexican and Straight White Male warlords, while for others Adolf Hitler will return from the moon and start building exact-scale replicas of Auschwitz and Selma, Alabama while forcing everyone to wear vintage Nazi uniforms and goosestep. According to a recent Atlantic piece I read, America will for some reason become "feudal" early Medieval France.

What everyone seems to agree on, though, is that, as in all great epochs where great civilizations fall, the planets will stop spinning, the stars will fall from the skies, and on their thrones deep in the bowels of the earth the great powers will tremble: and when the dust settles, the world as we know it will have ended, and something totally new and strange and foreign will begin. 

Far be it from me to disagree with my superiors who run podcasts and write for the New Yorker, but as at least some kind of historian, I do not think this is in fact how history works.

I am not a Marxist: by which I primarily mean that I do not believe in inevitable dialectical historical progress, and hence regard the purported alternatives of violent proletariat revolution and accelerationism as categorically unhelpful. Nevertheless, Marxists when they existed played many positive roles in society, and one of them was reminding people that economics existed and that how people fed themselves was a rather important factor in history. And from this point of view, the idea that the territorial bounds of America will not continue to be the home of prosperous and powerful political entities for the foreseeable bounds of human history appears somewhat absurd.

A basic truth that should be repeated vastly more often is that from the perspective of the settled peoples of the world, America is not only a new country, but a very embryonic and drastically underpopulated one. In absolute and not relative terms, America has the largest amount of arable land of any country in the world, including India and China--and this, too, using the more restrictive definition of "arable land" to include not any land that could relatively easily be cultivated, but merely land actually under present cultivation for temporary crops. America, meanwhile, has about three times the land area of India, including vast amounts of land that could easily be cultivated and used to produce food. India, meanwhile, has about four times the population of the United States.

As I pointed out in my last post, the simple reality is that America is not an intensively settled country. Indeed, it is barely a settled country at all. This remains true not only relative to the famously populated nations of Asia, but even relative to the baseline of places like Europe. America has only about five times as many people as the United Kingdom of Britain, Scotland, and Northern Ireland, despite having seventeen times the land area.

Yet this fundamental disconnect is even greater than any statistics or demographics could possibly convey. Traveling across America is a fundamentally opposite experience to traveling across Europe. One does not travel from places through other places. Rather, one moves from one place to another through vast tracts of wilderness pierced by monumental, alien infrastructure built not to connect communities so much as to carry commodities from periphery to center. I have been frequently attacked since my childhood for saying that America is not a nation but an Empire: a statement that people usually interpreted to mean that I think that America does not exist, or that Americans have nothing in common, or even that America as a political entity is fundamentally evil. I do not really believe any of that, though: or rather, it has nothing really to do with what I do mean when I say that America is not a nation but an Empire. 

Perhaps the most fundamental way in which I mean this statement has to do, not with Americans' cultural unity or lack thereof, or the American government's repressiveness or lack thereof, or the prevalence or scarcity of Americans' post-1945 "overseas" military interventions, but merely with this rather basic matter of economic and political structure. America simply is not structured as a nation, where a government has arisen to embody and enable the communal life of a political collectivity of a settled people living for a long time in a place and sharing some kind of basic culture or language or religion or way of life in common. America is structured as an Empire: which is to say, taken as a whole, it is structured by a vast commercial and military infrastructure built from the top down over many different political collectivities formed out of people of many different cultures and languages and religions and ways of life. 

Even that, though, is rather too abstract to get at what I really mean, which is merely that most of America--most, even of American cities, let alone American suburbs and towns and countryside--consists not of places or things but of the empty space between things. 

All my life I have been fascinated by the human deserts of America--deserts not in the highly modern sense of a climatologically inhospitable place but in the much more ancient and fundamental sense of a place that is not human, where human beings do not live and where they are not welcome. For ancient Egyptians, these were the literal deserts, where only bandits and soldiers and nomads lived: for Medieval Germans, these were the great forests, where only robbers and monks lived. For America, though, these deserts are primal and absolute, and they are everywhere: they are both within and around every public building, only a few feet from every private home, outside and around and in-between every town and city and suburb and restaurant and coffee shop and gas station. 

If you try to exist in these spaces for any number of time, hang around them, wander around them, carry out any function of life in them from eating to sleeping to defecating to merely sitting and reading or thinking, people will regard you as a homeless person, a criminal, a gangster, a terrifying alien invader, a desert nomad, and there is a good chance that cops will come and arrest you. And this is, when you think about it, rather strange for places that are in theory public spaces. If you try to do any of these things in an ordinary American neighborhood, though, full of allegedly private spaces, you will find much the same state of affairs. It is increasingly true that even daring to live or letting one's children live in the primal deserts of one's own yard or porch or sidewalk or street is seen as suspicious deviant behavior. There is something rather bizarre about this American insistence on surrounding ourselves at all times with vast empty spaces, woods and yards and streets and parks and sidewalks and parking lots and parking decks and walls and fields and landscapes, that are not there for anyone human to live in or cultivate or use for any human purpose, but merely to pass through and act as background setting. Jean Baudrillard saw the desert as the primal scene and reality of American life, the true, original backdrop and screen in reference to which American life was oriented: and I think he was right.

In any case, this discussion is necessary to communicate just why I regard it as absurd to think that America will come to an end any time soon--as well as the highly restricted sense in which I think it possible that it will. The human race has from its beginning to its end shown a very strong bias for life over death: and in the long run, life always wins out over death. In the 20th century, the powers ruling the human race did their level best to overcome this ingrained bias with more enlightened counsels, setting entire populations to kill other populations down to the last child, scientifically gasing millions, turning ancient cities into piles of rubble, and for the first time deciding as a matter of policy that under certain circumstances they could and would kill hundreds of millions and render most of the earth's surface uninhabitable. Still, by the end of the century there were vastly more people alive than there had been at its beginning.

In a similar way, I have personally no doubt at all that in a hundred years, in five hundred years, in a thousand years, in two thousand years, there will be many, many people living in the bounds of what is now the United States of America: and I find it highly, highly unlikely that these people will be living in a filmic post-apocalyptic wasteland or a filmic Third World gangland. Even a substantial nuclear war with Russia or China, while always theoretically possible, would not change that basic calculus.

Of course, what I actually meant as a child when I said that America would not last forever had little to do with this: it was merely the (for me always obvious, though now confirmed by many thousands of pages of historical and philosophical reading) point that political and cultural entities always change and always come to an end and are always superseded and replaced by other political and cultural entities not because they are evil dystopias or tragically failed utopias or quasi-Gnostic failures to realize an infinite divine essence, but rather because all political and cultural entities are fundamentally secondary realities, existing only in and for the temporal world of contingency and change, and by their inmost nature subordinate to the actual personal and common goods of actual people, and for this reason necessarily changing as the practical needs or practical goods or unpractical whims of those people amid history require. 

To be honest, I see nothing particularly tragic about the idea that in five hundred years people living in what is now America will not be governed according to the originally-deeply-flawed and now long-superseded text of an 18th century written Constitution designed largely to prevent the regional elites in thirteen mercantile coastal colonies from using a national legislature to commercially and culturally dominate each other. In fact, it is the idea that they would be governed according to that constitution that strikes me as tragic and fills me with feelings of disappointment and sorrow: for it would necessarily mean that these future people were being governed badly, and also that they showed a rather severe lack of intelligence and imagination. The societies and governments of these people will hopefully be rather better than ours: they could conceivably be much worse: but in neither case will these people be living in America in the sense in which I today live in America, let alone the (extraordinarily different) sense in which people in 1790 were living in America.

Of course, it is certainly possible that these hypothetical future people will call themselves Americans, or call their political entity America--as they have every right to do. Some people get very mad at Medieval Germans and Italians for calling themselves Romans, as though Julius Caesar was likely to be upset about it: but after all, Julius Caesar was dead, and the Medieval Germans and Italians were alive, and they had every historical and human right to take whatever they thought was good in Ancient Rome, including the Ancient Roman language and the Ancient Roman name, and use it for their present purposes. So too I have no objection to the early American habit of calling themselves Romans; and no objection if in five hundred years people living in vastly different societies, whether in the bounds of what is now America or in India or China or Russia or anywhere else, decide to call themselves Americans. So great is my intellectual magnanimity that I do not even get mad when people in 2025 call themselves Americans despite having no substantial culture or values in common with their own ancestors of a few centuries ago.

Now the one thing I sincerely hope is not the case is that people in the future continue to believe in America--which is to say, in the modern legend of some kind of immanentized divinity expressing itself through the American economy or Constitution or government or way of life, who must be held to and worshipped and served regardless if He in any way helps or improves human beings' actual lives and even if He pervasively harms and destroys them. 

It is only if Americans continue to believe in that divinity, whether as the inevitable source of good or the equally inevitable source of evil, that I think there is any particular chance that they will find a way to prevent anyone from managing to live prosperously in the territory of America or calling themselves American in the future: whether by nuking the cities, salting the earth, fighting and winning the Great Gender War, building data centers everywhere that dry up all the rivers, preventing themselves or anyone else from having children, and/or in one of these ways or another making "American" into such a cultic name of fear that future generations shun it as they shun the names of Sodom and Gomorrah. Barring those unlikely scenarios, I think that, by and large, human life and history will continue: and so in some form will America.

What is actually going on in America in 2025, I would argue, is something quite different from the end of America or the world. It is merely another crisis of legitimacy, such as has periodically afflicted nearly every nation and government and Church and Empire and corporation and township from time to time, usually justly, and often for the good. 

These crises arise in essence from the unavoidable human fact that we are rational entities, and so act always in rational pursuit of some perceived objective good: and also the fact that we are familial and social and political entities, who cannot seek or gain any of the goods we desire as isolated individuals, but only as part of some institution or another. 

For both of these reasons, no institution can function except on the basis of some firmly-held belief on the part of those who make it up that the institution itself and its overall purpose and its particular rules and laws and policies and structures and acts and specific human leaders are all good in the sense of relatively rationally oriented towards the gaining of some thing genuinely desired and perceived as objectively desirable by human beings. And from time to time, in every institution to have ever existed, some people begin to think, correctly or incorrectly, that this is not quite true, or not quite as true as it used to be, or not quite as true as it should be. 

Of course, to some extent this will always be true some of the time for some people associated with every institution; it is only when this state of affairs reaches some point of extremity, both in severity and definiteness of belief and in numbers of people affected, that what results is a genuine crisis of legitimacy. These crises of legitimacy are temporary by nature: but for all that can last for decades or even centuries, or for as long as it takes for some genuine alternative to the present state of affairs to be proposed and desired and pursued by a sufficient number of people. In the end, though, after some kind of collapse or war or struggle for power or mass defection, either enough people become convinced that the institution and/or its leaders were just fine the way they were, or they change the institution and/or its leaders: and either way the crisis is resolved.

Anyway, I have for a really quite tedious amount of time been telling everyone that America was in a crisis of legitimacy--and I have not been the only one. Post-Pandemic, though, and also post-2024-election, the name and concept seems to be falling out of favor, replaced with other generally less legible and insightful concepts, from the birth of a new AI economy to the rise of fascism to America being great again. I still persist in regarding this as closer to the truth of What is Going On Right Now than any of those other options.

To "prove" my case, I will in this lengthy essay examine a number of recent works of art that in my view convey the contours of our crisis of legitimacy, as well as another work of art about a crisis of legitimacy in a Near Eastern power from 500 years ago. I apologize: this is simply my way. 

Friday, October 3, 2025

Mirrors and Magic: Fifth Business, Islam in Pakistan, Solaris

Mirrors and Magic: Fifth Business, Islam in Pakistan, Solaris 

"We don't know what to do with other worlds: we don't need other worlds. We need a mirror."

-Solaris

What are we looking for? And would we know if we found it?

I recently read and/or watched a number of works that raise this question, in rather different ways. All three also reflect on a related question: is our desire ultimately for something other, or only for ourselves? Is our desire ultimately for truth, for reality, or can it be fulfilled in illusion? Is there something out there?

This is a question central to modernity; and even more central in the much-advertised age of AI. AI, as I have again and again emphasized in this space, is mostly false advertising, and even then mostly not new. Nevertheless, it is not without its genuine effects. The rise of Large Language Models has, thus far, done little or nothing to increase economic productivity, encourage creativity, aid discovery, increase leisure, manifest a generalized god-like intelligence, or accomplish any other goal touted by its creators to garner venture capital. It has, however, helped a few kids commit suicide, driven a few more insane, and successfully imprisoned a growing number of people in obsessive intellectual and faux-religious and faux-personal relationships with mirrors. And that is not without significance. 

Hence, in this issue of my patented "Three Extremely Different Works of Art in Different Mediums Reviewed Together According to A Philosophical or Social Theme" (TM) series, I will be examining two books and a film that all, I think, ultimately center on this same all-too-human problem, this same disconnect between what we think we are looking for and what we actually encounter, out there in the world: between our desire for the other, and the comforting, imprisoning facsimile of the mirror. 

Saturday, April 5, 2025

What Went Wrong? Hitchcock's Vertigo, Sofia Coppola's The Virgin Suicides, and Gene Wolfe's Peace

What Went Wrong?

Hitchcock's Vertigo, Sofia Coppola's The Virgin Suicides, and Gene Wolfe's Peace

"What went wrong? That is the question, and not 'To be or not to be.'"

-Gene Wolfe, Peace (1975)

These are times when nearly everyone in America is engaged, it seems to me, in asking one question: what went wrong? 

This is not, I should say, a question confined to either Right or Left on our soi-disant political spectrum.  Trumpists think about nearly nothing except what went wrong under Biden, and Obama, and since Harry Truman; and, increasingly, about what has gone wrong and is going wrong under Trump. Progressives, looking at their electoral defeats, looking at Trump's America, ask themselves the same question. Leftists, social conservatives, Distributists, Communists, Integralists--even the tiniest sub-factions of American politics seem to spend more time analyzing how things have gone wrong than how they might possibly go right. 

Yet for all that, virtually no one, it seems to me, actually tries to answer the question in any comprehensive or philosophical or historically satisfactory way. People produce, say, accounts of ways in which government has gotten less efficient; or how regulations have impeded economic growth; or, at best, how cultural movements or technological developments have caused kids to be less happy or art to be less good. These are all, though, from my perspective, so many discussions of symptoms rather than diseases, of effects rather than causes. 

To understand any human phenomenon, no matter how technical, one must understand human motivation and action. And considered in that light, apparent oppositions frequently conceal unities, and apparent triumphs already hold the seeds of their own downfalls. Most fundamentally of all, one cannot solve a problem until one has recognized what the problem is; nor can one undo a mistake until one understands what the mistake actually was. 

In my next post (probably), I will write about the more political and social side of this question. Today, though, I want to write about three works of art that are, in my mind, at least, connected by precisely their attention to more hidden and human seeds of harm and destruction, the ways in which these seeds grow and unfold, and the destruction they wreak when full-grown. All three films are in at least some sense tragedies; and hence all pose the same basic question of their characters' downfalls: what went wrong? 

Saturday, November 9, 2024

The Troubles of Beautiful Wealthy People: My Year of Rest and Relaxation and The Last Days of Disco

The Troubles of Beautiful Wealthy People: My Year of Rest and Relaxation and The Last Days of Disco

There are things you need not know of, though you live and die in vain:
There are souls more sick of pleasure, than you are sick of pain
.

There is a stir of unquiet in the air. We have, at last, gotten through an election that is in political terms perhaps the least interesting and impactful of my lifetime--but, in symbolic reality, and, therefore, in real world effects on the psyches and emotional selves and actions of people, among the most extreme. We are living in the greatest Empire the world has ever known; an Empire currently embroiled in two astonishingly bloody proxy wars, wars that our government seems to have little or no interest in controlling or containing or bringing to any kind of conclusion, wars that at this writing continue and escalate and spiral ever downwards, killing thousands of innocents, with no end in sight.

In such a night, what do we dream of? And what troubles our dreams?

I am not going to write, today, about either wars or elections. The suffering and death of the innocent are with God; but if we are to stop the killing, and even the psychological mass-media damage caused by a profoundly silly election, we need to ask ourselves more fundamental questions. We need to ask ourselves, first and foremost, why we are doing what we are doing. For only when we know what we are doing, and why, can we choose to stop doing it.

As I have argued, in recent months, I have seen a vision of the failure of America: a failure born merely of the mainstream, of mass media, of fantasy untethered from reality. The most horrifying thing about present moment is neither Trump nor Kamala's alleged wicked plans to destroy America, but rather their utter lack of any kind of political plans at all; not any particular American hatred or greed or racism or conquest or cowardice manifested in Gaza or Ukraine or Lebanon, but rather our seeming inability to feel anything at all about the wars we pay for and enable, to take any action at all and not contradict it, to take any responsibility at all for the people we have killed and the deeds we ourselves have done: to decide if we are at war with Russia or not, if we want Ukraine to invade Russia or surrender or negotiate or advance or retreat, if we want the government of Israel to keep fighting or stop fighting or expand or retreat, to decide if we want the people of Gaza to live or die or be occupied or be ruled or merely to cease to exist: to have any relationship at all to those who, at least, fight or suffer or hate or fear or die and have some idea why. 

The most troubling thing about the present American moment for me has nothing really to do with the election or our limited choice among media figures; it is simply the inability of our rulers and would-be rulers, of all parties and all groupings and all colors, to do anything, say anything, decided on anything for good or ill. A profound paralysis in fact grips our most powerful men, a profound indecision, an inability to grasp reality, an incapacity to evaluate it on any terms whatsoever: a existential vagueness about law, morality, governance, and life itself.

Anyway, all that is to say that today's post will be about two works of art about bored unhappy wealthy attractive white women living in New York City in the past.

Thursday, March 28, 2024

Leonard Cohen's Death of a Ladies' Man, Sofia Coppola's Somewhere, and the Loneliness of Disordered Desire

Leonard Cohen's Death of a Ladies' Man, Sofia Coppola's Somewhere, and the Loneliness of Disordered Desire

"I left a woman waiting:
I met her sometime later.
She said: 'I see your eyes are dead.
What happened to you, lover?'"

"I'm fucking nothing. I'm not even a person."

The above quotes come from two extraordinarily different works of art, created by two extraordinarily different artists more than thirty years apart. They are, nonetheless, about precisely the same thing.

Let me start over. One of the primary purposes of art is to aid in the extraordinarily important process of reflection and processing of our lives and selves and experiences. We all live out of and based on what we receive of the world; yet before we can act truthfully, we must first understand truthfully what we have received. And this is by no means easy.

One of the greatest problems with the contemporary regime of mass-media in American life is that it renders this process all but impossible. It does so in the first place by simply deafening and overwhelming people with narratives and experiences that are totally foreign to their own lives, which they have no ability even to begin to process, and which thus leave them no space and time to process their own lives and selves and the world itself. It does so in the second place by giving them narratives of the world that falsify their own experiences, causing them to understand their own lives in ways that are false and harmful, and hence, inevitably, to act in ways that are false and harmful.

One of the primary realms where this is true is, of course, the domain of human relationships and desire, insofar as, as I have argued in this space, the primary form of artistic production of our civilization consists of the manipulation of human desires for the purposes of pornography and advertising. For this to be effective, people have to absorb and internalize a sense of their own persons and identities and desires that is maximally manipulable by media. This, while existing in different ways in different areas, is fundamentally a mode that is de-personalized, de-relationalized, momentary, intense, atomized, repeatable, interchangeable, quantifiable, and totally separated from any sense of truth or reality. The ideal subject of this type of desire is someone who responds with maximal intensity to any given stimulus, at whatever time, whoever it involves, whether it is in reality or only via media, does whatever that stimuli tells him or her to do (such as buy a product), and then is ready to respond in the same way a moment later to a totally unrelated stimulus.

A great deal of American mass-media, consequently, is dedicated to portraying this type of desire as supremely positive and affirmed and fulfilling, and the type of person who is defined by such desires as supremely affirmed and fulfilled and happy. 

And yet the reality, which we have all at some point in our lives seen plainly either in others or in ourselves or both, is that this person is definitionally and maximally unfulfilled and lonely and miserable and unhappy. Since most people in America process their own experiences of themselves and others largely or entirely through mass media, though, many people are entirely unable to grasp this obvious reality or acknowledge it or process it or derive any conclusions from it or take any actions based on it. Indeed, even people who are obviously and enormously unhappy for precisely this reason are, in my experience, almost totally incapable of actually seeing themselves as unhappy and hence of taking any steps, large or small, to remedy their situation.

The first step to ceasing to be unhappy is to recognize that one is in fact unhappy. This is trivially true, but in fact, in practical terms, is one of the most common obstacles to personal happiness in many contemporary American's lives. People are frequently driven to go very far into the depths of personal dysfunction and the Internet alike before they can find media that allows them to reflect on themselves to even this very minimal degree--and then frequently the sectarian or conspiracist or victimizing or pseudo-psychologizing Internet narratives they end up consuming about their own unhappiness are just as false and destructive and conducive to further unhappiness. 

Even more cruelly, perhaps, the reality of contemporary American life is that many, many, many people do in fact have the materials of fulfilling, meaningful, even happy lives, but live their entire lives in the shadows, ashamed, and made unhappy precisely because their lives do not measure up to mass-media fantasies of people who are in fact profoundly, deeply miserable themselves.

It is precisely because of that that there is an enormous need for works of art that clearly and effectively and truthfully portray the unhappiness of people who are in fact unhappy, in such a way that people who are not like these people can recognize them as unhappy and not try to emulate them or be ashamed they are not like them, and so people who are in fact like these people can come to see their own unhappiness and act on it.

This is yet another unnecessarily long-winded and philosophical proem to two works of art that I like very much, both of which center on the utter misery and loneliness of famous, attractive, successful, promiscuous men. So here goes.

Saturday, December 2, 2023

Sofia Coppola's Priscilla is a Disturbing Affirmation of Humanity

Sofia Coppola's Priscilla is a Disturbing Affirmation of Humanity

What do we want, and why do we want it? And what would happen if we got what we want?

These questions are, in one way or another, the heart of all of Sofia Coppola's films--as, indeed, of many films. What sets Sofia Coppola apart from practically all filmmakers of her (or any) generation is two things: (1) her almost exclusive focus on female desire and perspective, and (2) the honesty and empathy of her portrayal of desire and of the people caught in its spell.

From this perspective, Priscilla represents the peak of her career. This is, paradoxically, because it is by far her most restrained film, the film where she most lets go of typical auteur control and its accompanying obsessions and allows another person's perspective to fully take center stage. To take a small, but telling example, Sofia Coppola, like other auteur directors, has a stable of actors and actresses she uses repeatedly in her films; and Priscilla contains none of them. Yet Priscilla is at the same time a film that profoundly reflects, and fulfills, Sofia Coppola's prevailing style, aesthetics, and overriding obsessions. I honestly cannot think of any other director, any other artist, even, who could have created anything remotely like this film. And that is no small praise.

Saturday, November 4, 2023

American Ghost Story: The Shining, The Jazz Singer, Invisible Man

American Ghost Story: 

The Shining, The Jazz Singer, Invisible Man 

I've been sick recently, and have thus had the time and lack of energy to do two things I rarely do: not think and watch movies. 

However, being me, and feeling better, these movies (and a novel I read at the same time) have inevitably sparked an enormous number of thoughts in me, which I will now inflict on you, dear reader. 

To be a Ghost

The Shining (1980) is a great horror movie that is centered on the rejection of almost everything that has made horror a popular genre. There are no jump scares in the movie--there is precious little gore--there is even little or no psychological horror in the conventional sense. And yet it is precisely when Kubrick does deploy such elements that the uniqueness of the film becomes most striking.

Tuesday, August 1, 2023

Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer is a Crime Against Humanity

Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer is a Crime Against Humanity 

Movies are back.

This, it seems, is what everyone is taking away from the unprecedented Barbenheimer phenomenon, which out of nowhere rocketed ticket sales from post-pandemic lows back to blockbuster levels. Two bizarre and bizarrely ill-matched movies released on the same weekend that somehow, instead of undercutting each other, ended up boosting each other, entirely through the power of Internet memes. 

What a strange time to be alive.

There is, really, nothing quite like modern Internet culture, a culture where incongruity and bizarreness and the power of a single ephemeral joke are valued, literally, above all else--and are powerful enough to get millions of Americans out of their homes and into movie theaters. Chesterton in the 1910s said that there had never been a power like the modern press: and he was right. But he hadn't seen nothing yet.

This is supposed to be an essay about the movie Oppenheimer, but discussing Internet memes is not a bad place to start. For what makes Oppenheimer so horrifying, at least for me, is the degree to which it associates and intertwines and simply and precisely treats as the same thing the power of mass media and the power of mass destruction.

Let me start over. I saw the movie Oppenheimer recently, and hated it as I have never hated any work of art produced by human persons before. It is the only film I have ever watched that made me absolutely livid with rage and sick to my stomach and unable to speak coherently for hours thereafter. I am still mad about it.

This is not precisely because it is a bad movie. In matter of fact, it is a clumsily made movie in many obvious repects--but rehearsing these would be largely besides the point. This is very much a film that does what it sets out to do, that makes the point it wants to make, that conveys what it wants to convey, to such a degree as to almost qualify as a genuine revelation. 

That being said, what it aims at, what it reveals, what it piously and intently worships, is, in my humble opinion, evil--and not just any evil, but precisely the evil of our time and place and society, the underlying belief and devotion and preoccupation behind all the most central and mainstream trends and all the most wasting moral and intellectual and social and political diseases of the world since 1945. And the movie loves this, and wants us to love it, too. And that is why I hate the movie.

Wednesday, July 19, 2023

Twin Peaks is America and David Lynch Needs Religion

Twin Peaks is America and David Lynch Needs Religion

[Warning: the following contains spoilers for the shows and movie Twin Peaks. I would highly advise watching it first, as it's quite good and very worth watching.]

There is something very strange about the human mind. 

One thing that, for me, makes Chesterton such a valuable thinker is that he is one of the very few authors I have ever read who actually seems to understand modernity--because he sees it, properly, not in terms of technology or mythical historical processes or even more mythical economic discoveries, but in terms of fundamental anthropology and human psychology, which is perhaps the only way to ever understand any human epoch or civilization. 

One of his more misunderstood quotes is the famous tag that the world is divided not between dogmatists and anti-dogmatists, but between conscious dogmatists and unconscious dogmatists. This is not merely, as it may seem, an ironically clever taunt, but a reflection of a much broader anthropological theme. Man, as Chesterton puts it, is defined by the making of dogmas; he is homo dogmaticus; which does not mean merely a creature that has beliefs or that codifies them, but first and foremost an entity whose mind, in some strange way, cannot think at all, cannot function at all, cannot even exist, without an entire universe to sustain it. Mind implies, desires, demands world: in his Thomas Aquinas he compares the meeting of the two to a marriage. As in a human marriage, in seeking the world, the mind becomes one flesh with it, incorporating it into itself and itself into it, relating to it as the defining context and atmosphere and background and content for all its own acts of thought and apprehension and speech. World in this sense is not merely a mechanical or abstract construct, an equation in physics: it is all those materials of reality and being and atmosphere and emotion and, in short, content, within and through which the mind moves and acts and exists.

A marriage between real world and mind is the ideal, the telos--but it is not always achieved. Even when the marriage fails, when the mind is cut off from the real world, it does not cease to dream dreams, see visions, and construct, out of its own desire and lack and disappointment, worlds of its own. The mind must exist in a world to exist at all--if only in a world of its own making. And yet, even in their deformities and absences, such universes reflect, inevitably, the shape of the one real world.

Wednesday, May 10, 2023

Why Star Trek Generations is the Best Next Generation Movie: Or, Against the Art of Simulation

Why Star Trek Generations is the Best Next Generation Movie: Or, Against the Art of Simulation

Before I begin this week's post, I would like to offer a formal apology to my Dear Reader for the fact that, of late, this blog has been decidedly academicish in character, featuring posts on such topics as academic theology, theoretical physics, and even (alas alas) identity. To reclaim my status as a Man of the People, therefore, I have decided to return to the thing that this is blog is actually about: Star Trek.

(I have written about Star Trek a lot before, including a whole long series of posts. To find them all, click here.) 

However unfortunately I have to then immediately destroy all my cred as both a populist and a critic by engaging in a spirited praise of the most generally disliked of the Star Trek The Next Generation films: Star Trek Generations.

I will confess: I have always liked this movie, despite or because of its critical and fan shellacking. When I watched it as a kid, I liked it without any particular critical discomfort. As a Youth, beginning to be educated in the narratives and techniques of filmmaking, I came to recognize both the many technical flaws with the film, and the fact that in the Grand Myth of Star Trek it was seen as a Lesser Film, a disappointing murder of the great Kirk leading into the actually Great Film Star Trek First Contact. Now, as a man, I have come full circle to the deep, profound truth underlying my original uncritical liking of the film, and now see it, with deepened sight and far more wisdom, as the best of the TNG films. 

I was confirmed in this belief by a recent visit to my brother and sister-in-law, both of whom are visual artists who have made short films and who together run a glossy art magazine. Neither, it should be said, are Star Trek fans in any conventional sense. My brother grew up with it, but generally views most of the Canon with disdain; my sister-in-law has seen relatively little of it. They are also people who value very much the weird, the bizarre, and the original in art. And they both absolutely loved Star Trek Generations.

I was also spurred to write this by my recent experience watching the modern generations of Star Trek, and in particular Strange New Worlds S1 and Star Trek Picard S3, both of which could be quite fairly characterized as "nostalgia" or "fanservice art" and both of which have been highly praised by both fans and critics--certainly more than poor Star Trek Generations. And in comparing my reactions and thoughts in watching all of these examples in short succession, I began to come to some more general theses on contemporary popular entertainment and why it often leaves me cold.

After all, popular American art has by general agreement reached something of a nadir. The latest Marvel movies have been badly reviewed and disliked by fans; even the Mandalorian S3 has met with a similar reception; Sonic the Hedgehog 2 was a grave disappointment; and so on and so forth. And Star Trek Generations is, truly, a major turning point in the history of franchise filmmaking. The lessons allegedly learned from the critical and fan dislike of this film fundamentally defined all later Star Trek films, and through them franchise filmmaking at large. And those lessons, I firmly believe, were all wrong.

To anyone interested in any of the above, then, I present a series of theses on Why Star Trek Generations is the Best TNG Movie and What We Can Learn From It About How to do Popular Franchise Entertainment and Why A Lot of Recent Stuff Sucks.