Voting. Think of it like public transportation. Think of it like a bus service. There’s a place you want/need to go to. But there’s no bus line that will take you directly to that place. So what do you do?
You take the bus that gets you closest to where you want to be.
For me, that bus is driven by Joe Biden. Yes, he’s old and believes that the institutions of democracy will save us. Yes, his role in aiding the Palestinian genocide and his actions in support of Netanyahu are unforgivable. I could provide a long list of his faults and flaws. But he’s also the bus driver that will get the bus closer to where I want this nation to be. It might only a few blocks closer, but closer is closer.
Trump, on the other hand, wants to take the bus in the opposite direction. A big chunk of the US population is in favor of that. There are also a few third party bus drivers who have plans for the bus, and they all have their supporters. But let’s be honest about that; no bus driven by a third party driver is going to leave the terminal. That’s just a fact.
Here’s a True Thing: you’re on the bus. Whether you like it or not, if you’re a US citizen, you’re on the bus. That gives you the right to vote to decide who’ll be driving it. But here’s another True Thing: your choices are basically limited to two old white guys: Biden or Trump. Sure, there are those third party folks out there who’d LIKE to drive the bus. Some of them might be much better bus drivers than either Biden or Trump. But the reality is, it’s going to be one of the two old white guys. That’s just another fact.
So what do you do if you don’t like those two old white guys? You can choose NOT to vote; you can forfeit your right to choose the bus driver. You can opt out. You can tell yourself there’s no difference between those two old white guys. You can claim they’re both awful, that one is only marginally less evil than the other. You can argue that less evil is still evil and you won’t vote for evil.
That’s fine. But you’re still on the bus, as are all your friends and family. If you opt out, you have to be willing to ignore the fact that less evil is still less evil. You have to ignore the fact that less evil is a better choice than more evil.
When there’s no direct route, you take the closest bus.
You also have the option to cast your vote for a bus driver other than Biden or Trump, one of those third party drivers. You can, in fact, choose to vote for the BEST POSSIBLEbus driver. You can tell yourself that voting for the BEST POSSIBLE bus driver–that voting your conscience–is absolutely the right thing to do, the moral and ethical thing to do. But you know the BEST POSSIBLE bus driver isn’t going to get enough votes to drive the bus. You know either Trump or Biden IS going to be driving the bus. No matter how much you hate knowing this, you still know it’s true.
In effect, voting for the BEST POSSIBLE bus driver is passively accepting whichever old white guy eventually wins. Whoever wins, you can tell yourself (and others) it’s not your fault. You can blame everybody else for not being wise enough to vote for the BEST POSSIBLE bus driver. You can’t be held responsible for the direction the bus takes. You can take comfort in that, if/when the bus goes in the wrong direction.
The bus isn’t going to wait. The bus is on a schedule. Come November, one of those two old white guys will be chosen to drive the bus in January of 2025. You can help choose which one. Or you can shrug it off.
SPOILERS HERE! THERE WILL BE SPOILERS INITIATE SPOILER ALERT SYSTEM ALL THE SPOILERS FIT TO PRINT
Okay, I’ve watched all three episodes (yes, I’m including The Church on Ruby Road as an episode) of the newest version of Doctor Who…and I’m concerned.
I’m not concerned about Ncuti Gatwa as The Doctor. He seems to be a natural Doctor, which perhaps is because unlike every other new Doctor, he didn’t have to go through the whole ‘Who am I this time?’ fuss. And I’m not concerned about Millie Gibson as Ruby Sunday, although she’s at risk of being perky. Nor am I concerned about the basic plot structure of these three episodes; they all seem like classic Doctor Who events. They fit perfectly in the Doctor approach as described by Neil Gaiman:
[T]here’s a blue box. It’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. It can go anywhere in time and space and sometimes even where it’s meant to go. And when it turns up, there’s a bloke in it called The Doctor and there will be stuff wrong and he will do his best to sort it out.
We see that in each of these three episodes. We’ve had a baby kidnapped by goblins; we’ve had babies abandoned in space who are threatened by a snot monster, and we’ve had a villain who has essentially stolen music from the world. These are all great Doctor Who scenarios—they’re all classic problems for the Doctor and Ruby to ‘sort out.’ I’m not concerned about any of this.
The goblin musical number from The Church on Ruby Road.
What I AM concerned about is the nature of the show itself. Of the three episodes so far, two of them have included musical numbers. I’m talking about incorporating theatrical singing (and dancing) as a part of the narrative (as opposed to something organic but incidental WITHIN the episode…like hearing music on the radio or a band performing). What the fuck is that about?
I’m not opposed to singing and dancing…but why? What’s the point? Did the singing and dancing contribute to the story? No. Did it develop the characters? No. This is Doctor Who filmed like Disney’s Little Mermaid or Moana. It’s turning Doctor Who into Singing in the Rain or Guys and Dolls.
The song & dance number from The Devil’s Chord
Don’t get me wrong. I like musicals. On any given day, you might find me humming or singing tunes from My Fair Lady. I’d be perfectly fine with an actual musical episode (like the brilliant Buffy the Vampire Slayer sixth season episode Once More with Feeling), but personally, I don’t want a Doctor who might, at any moment, burst into song and dance instead of acting and using dialog.
The thing is, the musical numbers in those two episodes were superfluous. They didn’t contribute to the story in any meaningful way. In fact, I’d argue they diminished the show. I’d argue they distracted the viewer from the events within the story world.
So there it is. I love Doctor Who, but I’m concerned about the direction the show is taking. I’m excited about Ncuti Gatwa as The Doctor. I think Millie Gibson as Ruby Sunday shows a lot of promise. I’ll continue to watch Doctor Who, but I’ve lost some of my enthusiasm for it. I’m uneasy about the next episodes. I hope the new relationship with Disney doesn’t result in a Disneyfied Doctor. But that seems to be a real risk.
EDITORIAL NOTE: That said, the end scene in which The Doctor and Ruby recreate the dancing on the piano moment from Tom Hanks’ movie Big while on the zebra crosswalk from the Beatles’ Abbey Road album was fucking brilliant.
I recently finished watching the new Shogun mini-series, and yes, I have thoughts. Before I inflict those thoughts on you, I should report that I’ve read the novel twice. I don’t recall when I first read it, but it was many years ago; I reread it earlier this year when I heard about the remake of the mini-series. I should also say I’ve seen the original Shogun mini-series starring Richard Chamberlain and Toshiro Mifune. So I can compare the new version to the old version and to the novel itself.
Shogun 2024 is both better and worse than Shogun 1980. Visually, it’s significantly better. The cinematography is spectacular. It’s certainly darker (literally), but the biggest difference is the story world of Shogun 2024 looks and feels lived in, if that makes sense. The story world in Shogun 1980 looked and felt like elaborate movie sets. The production values of Shogun 1980 are a product of their time, and it shows. There’s a convincing verisimilitude in the new version that was absent in the original.
The narrative in the new version is, in some ways, easier to follow–which ought to be a good thing, but isn’t always. I’d heard it would emphasize the Japanese perspective over that of the European protagonist. I confess, I was of two minds about this. I mean, the story takes place in early 17th Japan, so yeah, obviously it should be sensitive to the existing culture. But at the same time, it’s a classic ‘stranger in a strange land’ tale. At its heart, it’s a story about a person trying to understand and survive a society that’s exceedingly different from his own.
Toranaga — Shogun 2024
In Shogun 2024, the Japanese dialog includes subtitles. This, obviously, allows the viewer to understand what’s being said. Shogun 1980 did NOT provide subtitles, which had a HUGE impact on the story and the viewing experience. The viewer was as confused and uncertain about what was happening as Blackthorne. Unless you spoke Japanese, you were at the mercy of Mariko’s translation–or you were forced to try to deduce what was being said based on the behavior of the characters. This reinforced Blackthorne’s sense of isolation. The absence of subtitles also required the actors to rely more on face and body acting; they had to use body language and facial reactions to physically demonstrate what was taking place and being said.
This leads me to my main criticism of Shogun 2024, which is the way Toranaga is depicted. In the novel and in Shogun 1980, Toranaga clearly enjoys being alive. He displays a wide range of emotions; he’s exuberant, he’s stern, he drinks, he’s sentimental, he laughs, he gets angry, he’s wise, he’s deeply curious, he’s willing to be silly, he’s deadly serious, he’s stubborn. For example, in Shogun 1980 Toranaga sees Blackthorne dive off the ship, headfirst into the water. It’s a technique new to Japan and Toranaga immediately wants to learn to dive (this, by the way, is at the heart of the Toranaga-Anjin relationship; Blackthorne has skills that surprise and intrigue Toranaga, skills he wants to learn). Blackthorne demonstrates the dive. Toranaga and his retainers all try it. However, Toranaga is unable to make a proper dive. Initially, it’s a funny scene; his repeated painful belly flops are comical. But Toranaga’s failure at diving puts him at risk of losing face in front of his followers. Blackthorne eventually demonstrates a simpler method and Toranaga finally succeeds. We learn a lot about Toranaga in that scene — his thrill at learning something new, his joy of playing around in the water, his stubbornness and determination, his pride.
In Shogun 2024, however, Toranaga says he wants to learn to dive, but only watches as Blackthorne repeatedly demonstrates his diving technique. Eventually Toranaga leaps into the water and challenges Blackthorne to a race. We learn almost nothing interesting about Toranaga in the 2024 version.
Toranaga –1980
Another example, in Shogun 1980 Blackthorne is being entertained by some women and he becomes a wee bit drunk and high-spirited. He sings a shanty and dances a hornpipe. The noise draws Toranaga to the room. Blackthorne realizes he’s created a scene (which is frowned upon in Japanese society) and starts to apologize, but Toranaga is intrigued and insists on seeing the dance. He then decides to learn Blackthorne’s dance. We’re treated to a scene in which Toranaga is attempting to dance a hornpipe. It’s wonderfully ridiculous and delightful.
The Toranaga of Shogun 2024 doesn’t dance. He doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t get sentimental, he doesn’t get tipsy, he doesn’t get silly, he doesn’t seem to enjoy much of anything. Throughout the series, he’s almost always stern and serious.
In my opinion, this handicaps Toranaga’s development as a character. This is especially clear after Toranaga’s capitulation to his brother and his announced decision to surrender himself in Osaka. In Shogun 1980 and the novel, we see Toranaga lose his joy; we see him defeated and deflated and depressed; there’s a marked contradiction in his behavior. He’s emotionally diminished. The Toranaga of Shogun 2024, on the other hand, has been consistently sober and serious. When he submits to his brother and Osaka, the change in his demeanor is slight. Instead of showing him emotionally changed, the narrative suggests he’s physically ill as well as depressed. It’s simply not as interesting.
This flaw (and yeah, to me it’s a massive flaw) becomes more obvious at the end of the series. Toranaga makes a series of confessions, including the fact that he’s always wanted to become Shogun. In Shogun 1980, he also admits he had Blackthorne’s ship destroyed to keep him in Japan, largely because he needs Blackthorne — not because of his ship or his skills, but because his alien/outsider status allows Toranaga to have an actual friend, somebody who doesn’t have a Japanese agenda. In both versions of the show, Toranaga declares Blackthorne “makes me laugh.” In Shogun 1980, we see that laughter and we know it’s true. Toranaga makes the same statement in Shogun 2024, but we never see that joyful/playful side, so the comment doesn’t ring true.
Shogun 2024 centers the experience of the Japanese characters, but that makes it a story about political maneuvering. Shogun 2024 is about Toranaga’s hidden agenda to become Shogun, in which Blackthorne plays a minor role. In this version, Blackthorne is actively resistant — hostile, even — to change. He remains boorish, rude, and almost willfully ignorant of Japan’s societal norms. It’s not until the final episode, when he realizes he’s unlikely to be able to return to Europe, that he seems to genuinely adapt to Japanese life. It’s a story about political conflict.
Shogun 1980 (and the novel), on the other hand, is about Blackthorne’s struggle to adapt to a very alien culture, which takes place during a potential civil war in Japan. In this version, Blackthorne realizes there are many positive aspects of this new culture and he eagerly embraces aspects of it. This is maybe most clear in Blackthorne’s enthusiastic “Oh lawdy, I fucking LOVE a hot bath” revelation and his pleasure at the simple cleanliness of Japan. It’s a story about cultural conflict.
Both versions end with Blackthorne realizing he’ll never get to leave Japan. But that awareness lands differently in each version. In Shogun 1980, Blackthorne’s willingness to adapt makes his acceptance less painful; having to live the rest of his life in Japan doesn’t seem like much of a sacrifice. In Shogun 2024, however, Blackthorne having to stay in Japan feels like a prison sentence which he’ll try to make it as palatable as possible.
I found Shogun 2024 to be a more compelling and visually interesting story. But I also think it’s a less enjoyable story.
Like you, I was curious how the ‘patriots’ at Free Republic would respond to the story of South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem killing her 14-month-old puppy, Cricket.
It’s possible you’re unaware of this story. It’s included in Noem’s soon-to-be published autobiography, No Going Back: The Truth on What’s Wrong with Politics and How We Move America Forward. She suggests the young wirehair pointer was “untrainable” and “less than worthless as a hunting dog.” So she took the puppy to a gravel pit and shot it. And as long as she was in the shooting animals mood, she also fetched a smelly billy goat, took it to the gravel pit, and shot it too. Fewer people are concerned about the goat.
Cricket’s killer
Okay, maybe you weren’t really interested in how Freepers responded to the story. Maybe you hadn’t even given Freepers a moment of thought. Hell, you’d probably prefer not to think about them at all. And who could blame you? But because FreeRepublic is one of the more vitriolic and zealous branches of the MAGAverse, I’m inclined to see them through a canary-in-the-coal-mine lens. They can be predictive of MAGA behavior. So I periodically check in to see what these folks have to say about current events.
I assumed they’d defend Noem’s puppycide, and for the most part, they did. There was also a sizable anti-puppycide contingent. What surprised me (though it shouldn’t have) was a third group; people who were either pro-puppycide or puppycide ambivalent BUT were adamant that Noem’s problem was openly confessing to her puppycidal behavior. There were a LOT of ‘If you’re going to kill puppies, DON’T talk about it comments. In the interest of brevity, I’m only going to include this single example of this group:
How she could be so dumb to write about killing a puppy basically is beyond me. by toddausauras
The discussion thread I reviewed was called This is The End of Kristie Noem Even if Trump Picks Her, so much of the ‘analysis’ and opinion was dribbled through a filter of her viability as a candidate for Comrade Trump’s vice presidential ticket. Maybe 15-20% of Freepers agreed that killing a puppy was, all by itself, disqualifying. Here’s a representative sample:
She can’t handle a simple 14 month old dog. by NoLibZone
Noem said she “hated that dog” and deemed it “less than worthless”. She killed it out of hate. And then she wrote about it in her book as if it were a perfectly normal thing to kill animals you hate. That is textbook sociopathic behavior. by 10mm
Anyone that does something like this, and thinks it makes her seem like a leader, is a POS. Trump needs to pick a man, and skip the backward notion of women in high office. They try to hard to seem strong enough, and fail to realize that leadership and strength require thought as well as action. by MagaMatt
While unlike Pit Bulls and some others, I think a wirehair pointer would quickly find adoption, and which should have been her choice. And where is the man of the house in all this? by daniel1212 (Turn 2 the Lord Jesus who saves damned+destitute sinners on His acct, believe, b baptized+follow HIM)
A number of anti-puppycide Freepers seem to think Noem’s willingness to kill a puppy (and let’s not forget the male goat) had something to do with being a woman. I wasted some time trying to work out the misogynistic logic there. I mean, are they arguing that the puppycide could have been averted if only a strong man had been around to prevent her hysterical reaction? Or that killing a puppy is okay if a man does it? I gave up trying to reason that out; that way madness lies.
Cricket
The majority of Freeper responses fell into the pro-puppycide category. Some felt shooting the dog was acceptable though unfortunate. Most, however, defended her, arguing it was actually necessary for her to execute the puppy (and the goat). Predictably, some Freepers found it amusing; some actually reveled in the cruelty of the act. Here is a representative sample:
Puppy? Let me know when you adopt a “puppy” that attacks and eats your children. by Responsibility2nd
A lot of people don’t understand that dogs aren’t only pets, some are actually working animals that are expected to do a job and their owners depend on their ability to do that job for their livelihood, and that if they can’t do their job their owners don’t have the resources either time or money to keep them as pets. by Truthsearcher
She killed a dog? Maybe the postal workers union will endorse her. She may even become “Cat Fancier” magazine’s “Woman of the Year.” by x (She’s only killing the dogs the illegals can’t be bothered killing.)
The joyful chicken killer. Chicken Lives Matter. How many eggs did Cricket produce? by kiryandil
One of the biggest hopes America has of not going full-Islam is Americans’ love of dogs. Regardless of how much sense can be made of her killing a dog, it won’t fly with the vast majority of dog owners. We supposedly need some soccer moms to vote for Trump. Soccer moms are not going to vote for a dog-killer. by who_would_fardels_bear
Noem did the right thing shooting the dog. You’re highly sensitive aren’t you? by Macho MAGA Man
I find nothing wrong with killing a dog that wont hunt. or a nasty goat. and a billy goat that is mean could hurt someone if it got out. and you can eat it. by Ikeon (My only issues with stupid people are, they encouraged to talk and post stupid opinions.. )
I would like her even more if she made slippers from cricket’s pelt. by Wilderness Conservative (Nature is the ultimate conservative)
These examples don’t show the actual scope of the Freep responses to Noem’s puppycide. There were several comments comparing shooting a puppy to abortion. Some ignored Noem and the puppycide altogether and just advocated other potential VP selections. And some comments had no obvious connection at all to the topic being discussed. But it wouldn’t be FreeRepublic without a bit of random casual racism, so I’ll add one more comment.
She had to have some Indian blood, as seen from the high cheekbones. by nwrep
Noem, responding to folks to the anti-puppycide crowd, referred to this and other stories in her book as “real, honest, and politically incorrect.” Seriously, politically incorrect. As if there was a political stance involved in killing an adolescent dog.
It’s to be hoped that the title of her book is prophetic. Let’s hope there’s no coming back for her. Let’s hope the Freep discussion thread was accurate, that this IS the end of Kristi Noem.
EDITORIAL NOTE: We need to burn the patriarchy. Burn it and bury the ashes with a wooden stake driven directly through where its heart should have been. Then burn the stake. Burn the patriarchy and salt the earth where its ashes are buried. Keep salting the earth for generations. Then nuke it from orbit. Then tea and biscuits.
Life is unfair and full of disappointment. Here’s me, with my wee Fujifilm X10 in hand, walking down the street, spotting a mustard-colored corner building. And oh lawdy, there are two women walking down the sidewalk toward that building, one of whom was wearing a shiny blue jacket that would look amazing against that mustard wall. All I had to do was stop, wait for them to be in front of the building, and squeeze off a couple of shots.
But no. They stop before they get there, climb into a parked car, and drive off. So I have to settle for some random guy in a black leather jacket and khaki pants. And if that’s not bad enough, when he reaches the right point for the photo, he’s badly out of step. I shot the photo, but c’mon…it’s like these people have no aesthetic sensibilities at all.
Seriously, would it have killed him to step off with his other foot?
But then I notice there’s a fire escape on one side of the building, casting an absolutely delicious shadow on the mustard-colored wall. But some asshole has (and I assume this was done deliberately) parked a dull white block of an SUV right beneath the shadow, completely ruining the visual. Imagine somebody sticking a big wad of gum or an old bandaid over the woman in Hopper’s ‘New York Office, 1962‘ and you’ll get the idea. I couldn’t bring myself to shoot the photo.
Happily, there was a nice detail worth photographing. The shadow of a string of holiday lights made a nice filigree in an abstract block of color and darkness. It’s not entirely satisfying; it’s like eating croutons that have no garlic. Better than nothing.
It’s got the crunch, but lacks flavor.
But I’ve been told patience is my only redeeming quality (seriously, a million years ago when I was in middle school, in trouble again, having waited in an uncomfortable chair for a long chunk of time for the Boys Advisor to lecture and chastise me for some offense, I was told that patience was my only redeeming quality…and I’ve clung to that one quality ever since), so I decided to wander off and return later when the offending SUV would be gone.
And that’s what I did. I kept walking and shot a few more photos, including this bizarre doorway of a shop that had gone out of business and was blocked by a Port-a-Potty. There’s a sort of warped genius at work there.
Somebody thought, “We’ve got a doorway, we’ve got a port-a-potty, let’s put them together.”
And when I eventually returned to the mustard-colored building? The goddamned white SUV was still there. Not only that, somebody had parked a blue trike motorcycle in the adjoining parking space. I tried not to take it personally, but it hurt. I don’t know what’s wrong with these people. I still couldn’t stomach the idea of photographing that appalling SUV, but I could swallow the blue trike. It allowed me to get a bit of that glorious fire escape shadow. And there was a blue doorway behind the trike, and a rather nice arch overhead, both of which mitigated the offence. Well, somewhat mitigated it.
Okay, but at least I spared you the goddamn SUV.
Life is unfair and full of disappointment. But in a world of white SUVs, there’s also mustard-colored corner shops and doorways blocked by Port-a-Potties. There’s always going to be something around the corner…and you never know what it’s going to be. That’s why we walk around with a camera, right? It’s the philosophy of photogr…ooh. Photolosophy.
Okay. I like that. I’m almost certainly not the first person to come up with that term, but I’m not going to Google it. Not Googling is part of my photolosophy.
Addendum: MDavis commented on the “crisp striping on the trash can in the first photo.” I also found that appealing. Unfortunately, as I noted in my reply, the hurried photo I shot didn’t quite come together. The elements are all there, but it just doesn’t have any harmony. Still, here it is:
Whenever I have a story published, I get asked this question: “What’s it about?” And I’m always at a loss for an answer. You’d think, since I wrote the damned thing, that I’d be able to tell folks what the story is about. But that’s the thing about stories…or at least that’s the thing the stories I write (and I suspect that’s true of most writers). They’re never about just one thing.
I have a story in the May/June edition of Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine (which, by the way, is an absolutely wonderful magazine if you like short mystery or detective fiction). It’s called Where’s Dookie?. I can confidently say it’s almost certainly the best short story you’ll ever read about Kool-Aid collecting. And yes, that’s a thing: there are actually people who collect Kook-Aid. I wouldn’t make that up. (Okay, in fact, I would make that up, but I’m not.) But it’s not really about Kook-Aid collecting.
I could say it’s probably one of very few pieces of short detective fiction that deals with the obscene cost of insulin. That would be accurate, but the story isn’t about the pharmaceutical industry. I could say the story revolves around the importance of family, which would most definitely be true. But it’s not actually about family. It also deals with the difference between commercial art and art for its own sake, but I’d be lying if I said the story is about art. The story involves issues of gentrification, and dive bar culture, and retirement communities–but it’s not about those things. Not really. The title suggests the story is about Dookie, which it kinda is, but mostly isn’t.
So what IS it about?
I guess it’s about caring. Which may seem like an odd thing for a detective story to be about, but there it is. Caring for the community, caring for the past, caring for the future, caring for your work, caring for people.
But that sounds awfully sappy, doesn’t it. And it sounds so very sincere. Even serious. But how serious can a story be if it involves Kool-Aid collecting and a character named Dookie?
Anyway, the story is out there. Now if anybody asks me what it’s about, I’ll can just point them to this blog post. It may not answer their question, but it’ll save me some time.
Okay, first? There be SPOILERS here. If you want to see the Alex Garland film Civil War with innocent eyes, then DON’T READ THIS.
Second, Civil War is NOT a movie about how the United States split up into various factions. In fact, you can basically ignore the underlying premise of the story. It’s just not very important. Well, it’s not important to the story. Sure, it’s weird as fuck that California and Texas have somehow joined together to overthrow the fascist government of the United States (and even weirder that–and I swear I’m NOT making this up–they are supported by the armed forces of Florida), but none of that really matters. It could have been Wakanda and Ruritania teaming up to fight against Fredonia and the story would be the same.
Because this is a movie about two journalists and two news photographers covering a story. That’s basically it. They don’t take any moral or political stance; they’re simply documenting and reporting what they see. And what they see is pretty fucking awful.
It’s also a sort of road movie. Instead of a traditional plot, this movie is a series of related vignettes. As the four make their way from New York City to Washington, DC, they encounter a series of deeply localized situations. Here’s a gas station controlled by a few guys who maybe belong to some sort of community militia, there’s a town where life goes on without any apparent awareness that a civil war is taking place (until you notice the snipers on a rooftop), and over there are some uniformed sociopaths quietly filling a mass grave.
Obviously, the four characters are affected by these scenarios. The two journalists–one a sort of adrenaline junkie, the other an older obese man at the end of his career–are an important part of the story, but they’re essentially supporting roles. The ‘stars’ of the movie are the photographers. The journalists just have to observe and report; the photographers have to get the photos, which requires them to expose themselves to the action.
This was the aspect of the film I was most interested in. Unlike a lot of movies in which an actor pretends to be a photographer, Kirsten Dunst and Cailee Spaeny clearly knew how to hold a camera. While I’m skeptical that a photographer–even a rookie–would rely on a 1980s-era Nikon FE2 film camera (without a motor drive, no less) in a modern combat situation, I wasn’t particularly troubled by it. After all, the FE2 was Don McCullin’s camera of choice in Vietnam, so I assume that choice was no accident. Kirsten Dunst’s more modern Sony A7 camera bodies made a lot more sense, although I’m not convinced an experienced conflict photographer would be running around during close quarters combat toting a camera with a massive and highly visible 70-200mm zoom lens.
But overall, both actors looked natural using their cameras. There was no sense that the cameras were just being treated as props. And I have to say, I got a kick out of the fact that Kirsten Dunst (like me) has a dominant left eye–which is sort of inconvenient for a photographer.
I was especially pleased when the film referenced Lee Miller, one of the pioneering women photojournalists during World War 2. And doubly pleased by a brief early scene that was (intentionally, I hope) a callback to Miller. The scene shows Kirsten Dunst in a bathtub, which I found was reminiscent of the famous photograph of Lee Miller sitting in Hitler’s bathtub on the day he committed suicide.
My only real complaint about the film is that the climactic scene was predictable–and frankly, that’s a pretty small complaint. Fairly early in the story, Jessie (the rookie) asks Lee (the veteran) if she’d photograph Jessie’s body if she was killed in action. Lee responds, “What do you think?” (or words to that effect). At that point, it was clear that one of them would be killed and the other would shoot the photograph. It could have played out either way, but it seemed more likely there’d be a sort of ‘passing the torch’ moment in which the rookie becomes the veteran. It’s a seriously stupid scene. Jessie exposes herself to gunfire and Lee, instead of tackling her and removing both of them as a target, stands in front of Jessie, facing her (her back to the gunfire). It makes for a nice photo of Lee’s face as she’s being killed, but is still stupid.
However, the final shot of the film–the shot on the screen as the credits roll–is perfect. In the final scene, Jessie photographs some troops summarily executing the president. It’s a very matter-of-fact scene, not particularly dramatic. As the credits roll, though, we see the shot taken after the execution. It’s depicted as if the image is very slowly being developed in a darkroom–the gradual revealing of the scene. It’s a classic military trophy photo, similar to every awful trophy photo shot in every war. Soldiers standing over a body, smiling proudly.
That final image is disgusting. It’s brilliant. It’s horrible. It’s perfect in that it says everything that needs to be said about war and violence. THAT is the shot that people need to think about and discuss. It reminds us that violence is the worst form of seduction.
Confederates: Okay, okay, you “won” the war. We give up. Union: About time. C: So basically you’re saying we can’t own black people anymore. U: You can’t own ANY people. C: What about Indians? U: No, you can’t own native people. C: Mexic… U: No. C: … U: …
C: How about if we just keep them poor? U: Why would you do that? C: Somebody has to do all the shit jobs, right? U: Well… C: And we can provide them with alcohol and drugs. U: Again, why would you… C: For their own good. Look, they’re going to be doing shit jobs all day for little or no money. You don’t want to give them a little something to ease their pain? U: Well, when you put it… C: C’mon, it’ll give them something to sing about. U: I dunno. I guess it would… C: Good. We’re agreed. U: If it’ll stop all the fighting, sure. C: We’re not going to let those fuckers vote, though. U: sigh
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