Ain’t No Suppression Like Voter Suppression

Florida legislators just passed Georgia-style restrictions on voting. The usual stuff: Barriers to mail-in voting, reductions in the availability of drop-boxes, penalties for distributing food and water to people on line to vote. 

By the way, what is the Republican obsession with preventing the distribution of food and water to voters? Snacks are not a partisan issue. I have it on good authority that even MAGAts like cookies.

The only hope for the country is a huge backlash to this kind of Republican thuggery. In my fantasy, this becomes a highly effective campaign issue for Democrats, and, like, Stacey Abrams rides this indignation to a landslide victory in Georgia’s next gubernatorial election. I’m not really optimistic, but that would certainly be delicious.

*****

NBC is promoting the Tokyo Olympics as “An Olympics like no other.” Apparently they think that’s a good thing.

Context Cluelessness

 “Certainly Mr. Trump’s fabled étourderie and his inability to staff a cabinet with qualified officials sympathetic to what was ostensibly his agenda are a part of the story.”

                    —“Biden’s First 100 Days Would Make Trump Jealous,” Matthew          Walther, New York Times, April 30, 2021.

For those of you who don’t speak/understand French [raises hand], Google Translate informs us that the fifth word in that sentence translates to “thoughtlessness.” Another translation site suggests “blundering,” which seems more apropos, given the former guy’s propensity for, well, blundering. The point of today’s entry, though, is not to comment on Donald Trump’s ineptitude, nor to discuss the finer points of translation, but rather to take issue with the writer and/or editor of the article in which the opening sentence appears.

Etourderie is not particularly common, not a foreign word or phrase that most moderately well-read English speakers (such as readers of the New York Times) would be familiar with. It’s no eclair or soupçon or joie de vivre.

And don’t get me wrong: I certainly don’t object to writers engaging in vocabularical calisthenics, whether by coining neologisms (like, I presume, vocabularical) or simply by reaching deep into their mental dictionaries to dazzle readers with sesquipedalian pyrotechnics. Indeed, I could argue that a writer has a responsibility to employ le mot juste in order not only to convey precise meaning but to offer the reader a bit of enlightenment. I, for one, now know what etourderie means—though I’m no closer to knowing how to pronounce it—and this piece of knowledge has now taken its place in my mental universe.

(Unfortunately, since I no longer have the capacity to add information to my store of knowledge without removing some equally large piece of information, I no longer know what “crepuscular” means. DON’T TELL ME! I’m trying to hold on to etourderie at least through the end of this afternoon, when the light starts to become. . . something.)

The point, here, is that, when a writer deploys an unfamiliar word, fulfilling the responsibility to enlighten the reader comes with an additional responsibility of providing sufficient context for the reader to figure out the meaning. In this case, in an article describing how President Biden’s actions have occasionally been indistinguishable from what one might have expected from his predecessor, and in a sentence describing some of Trump’s shortcomings, one could guess that etourderie had a negative connotation. But any number of English words or phrases could be plugged into that sentence with apparently equal effectiveness: bigotry, racism, self-aggrandizement, narcissism, thin-skin, megalomania. . .

(DIGRESSION: Donald Trump is a truly horrible and worthless piece of human garbage, isn’t he? EOD)

Using big words for their own sake is not great writing. It’s just rude.

Also, for the record, there’s nothing “fabled” about Trump’s etourderie: The man is unarguably a blundering moron.

2020 and Counting

The House of Representatives expanded somewhat regularly over the course of American history, reflecting the growth of the American population.  This growth, however, stopped in 1913, when House membership was capped at 435.  At that time, the United States population was approximately 97 million; today, it's just over 328 million.  In other words, if the House of Representatives is truly meant to serve as a sort of microcosm of the country as a whole--to represent, as it were--it should have at least three times as many representatives today as it had 100 years ago.

Sure, the thought of 1200 congressmen is slightly nauseating, especially when three of those congressmen would be Matt Gaetz.

(DIGRESSION: Has he been arrested yet?  Can we please get on that? EOD)

At the same time, we also get three AOC's, so I can live with that.

*****

The 2020 census has come and gone; it's all over but the counting--but since the whole thing is counting, I guess it's really not that all over, after all.

If you returned your census form last year, good for you! You count! If you didn't, fear not! You're in the good company of roughly 33% of your fellow Americans (or, as we've established above, about 110 million people).  This raises the uncomfortable question, If only about 67% of the population responds to the census, how does the Census Bureau know that that other 33% exists? And if the Census Bureau does, in fact, know this, why do we need to fill out census forms at all?

When it came to encouraging residents to complete census forms, states took different approaches. Some states, like California, New York, and Minnesota, began planning early and spent millions of dollars on outreach and marketing.  Oregon distributed ponies. On the other hand, states like Florida, Texas, and Arizona took an approach to the census that could best be described as "Meh."

Perhaps coincidentally--but probably not--these states are all run by Republicans, the governing party that has proclaimed itself hostile to government. I suppose that's their right, but did anyone point out to them that, by thwarting the nasty federal government's efforts to count their citizens, all these states have accomplished is ensuring their own underrepresentation and underfunding?

Kudos to them for owning the Libs.

Before I Forget, Redux... Maybe

 Following up on last week's comments about forgetfulness--if it was last week--if there were comments about forgetfulness--who can keep track of these things?

What was I saying?

Ah, yes. Forgetfulness.  It's no joke, people!  I was looking at my work calendar this morning, and I saw on tomorrow’s docket, "AB705 presentation (if possible)."  Now, for those of you not familiar with California state education legislation, AB705 is, broadly, a law passed several years ago to streamline students' progress through community colleges.  As for the rest of that calendar entry, though. . . . Presentation of what?  For whom? Or maybe by whom?  And what does "if possible" mean?  I mean. . . I guess it isn't, but still . . . 

Junk showing up on my calendar isn't especially strange, but generally this junk is placed there by other people.  Meeting invitations pop up like zits, random and unexpected.  But this was clearly something I placed there myself, presumably so that I wouldn't forget something important.  Yet here we are.

*****

Random British expression that Americans should start using: Tickety-boo (fine, good, just so).  As in, "Just grab yourself a hedgehog, drop him in the pot, let him simmer for 20 minutes or so, and then, tickety boo, you've got yourself a tasty little lunch."  Wouldn't that just make the world that much more civilized?

(L)Anguishing

Turns out there's an official clinical term for "Meh": Languishing.  The condition of being neither clinically depressed nor satisfactorily chipper, but somewhere in between.  It's what a lot of people have been suffering, constantly or intermittently, since around St. Patrick's Day 2020, when the world shut down. Nice to have a name. Personally, I think I've been languishing since around 1993, but I'll choose to blame things on the pandemic!

I think the most prominent symptom--or at least the most prominent NEW symptom--that I've noticed is, for want of a better term, utter and complete hatred of everything and everybody.  It's a subtle symptom, but it's there.  I can attest that, for the last six months or so, I experience days where I have these powerful, visceral reactions every time I get a notification of a new email.  Seriously!  Like, no matter who it's from or how innocuous the message may turn out to be, I find myself wishing death on whoever had the temerity to, you know, communicate with me.

I'm hoping that, as we start to drift back towards normalcy, I see a reduction in this particular symptom, at least.  As an educator, I can see that rank misanthropy will probably not serve me well in the workplace.

And Now for Something Completely Not Different

 I confess to having a problem with the #OscarsSoWhite movement.  In years past, when it comes to the Academy Awards, the Motion Picture Academy has certainly snubbed any number of worthy performers and other theatrical artists, and, despite the growing diversity of the American population, the most visible Oscar categories (e.g., acting, directing, "Best Picture") have often displayed a conspicuous uniformity in terms of race and ethnicity (i.e., a whole bunch of white folks).  The snubs are often inexplicable, such as Jennifer Lopez being overlooked for her performance in "Hustlers" despite ubiquitous praise and early expectations that she would win the award, never mind being nominated.  And it's this very inexplicability that leaves the Academy open to charges of unconscious (or, indeed, conscious) racism.

Still, whenever the #OscarsSoWhite hashtag would start trending, I would always wonder.  First, while people could certainly take issue with the lack of Black or Brown faces among the nominees, the nominees themselves were generally not objectionable.  That is, one couldn't necessarily point to any of the (white) actors who were nominated and say, "Well, SHE certainly doesn't deserve a nomination. . .  He didn't really do a good job."  With a limited number of nominations (generally five per category), you will always have some deserving people left out.  Second, the fact that people expressed outrage when all the nominees were white could cause a certain backlash if and when more people of color were ultimately nominated: Are they being nominated because of the excellence of their work or is there some Hollywood quota system being employed?

The issue, of course, is not a lack of talent among communities of color, but a lack of opportunities.  And ultimately, one of the good things to come out of #OscarsSoWhite was an attempt to diversify the Academy, to provide more support for films that portray the experiences of communities of color and to broaden the pool of those honored beyond the usual suspects.  And one could argue that last night's Academy Awards represented a sort of triumph for this movement.  Of the 20 acting nominations, nine went to non-white actors.  Of the eight films nominated for Best Picture, only two featured white male protagonists (three if you count the mostly-white ensemble cast of "Trial of the Chicago Seven").  But even here, we see some "snubbing": Eight films were nominated for Best Picture, but up to ten films could have been.  And among the non-nominated pictures were such critically acclaimed and Black-centered movies as "One Night in Miami" (three other nominations), "Da 5 Bloods" (a Spike Lee Joint), and "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom"--probably the most inexplicable oversight, given its prominence on Netflix, its provenance as a somewhat well-known play, and its two lead-acting nominations.  Including any two of these movies wouldn't have entailed bumping any other nominee (all of which seem more or less deserving), yet they were left out.  Why?  (Yes, I'm sure there are arcane rules around voting and nominations and yadda yadda yadda. . . But again, this is as much about perception as anything else.  The perception is problematic.)

And then, of course, despite the diversity of the nominees, the two big acting awards went, surprisingly, to two old white Hollywood veterans--Frances McDormand and Anthony Hopkins--both of whom had won Oscars already (twice in McDormand's case), to boot.

This is a disappointment.

I feel I should stipulate that both Frances McDormand and Anthony Hopkins are brilliant actors--giants in their field.  I haven't seen either "Nomadland" or "The Father," but I have absolutely no doubt that both actors give flawless performances.  This is not about that.  Because let's be clear: The Oscars are not an acting competition.  The awards are not given on the basis of some judgment that Anthony Hopkins gave a better performance in "The Father" than, say, Riz Ahmed did in "Sound of Metal."  How would one make that judgment, exactly?  They performed different roles that called for different skills and preparation.  The only real way that the Oscars could be an acting competition would be if each nominated actor were given, say, a monologue to perform--the same monologue--and then judged on the execution. There would still be a certain level of subjectivity involved, but at least then you'd be comparing apples to apples, so to speak--performing apples to performing apples.

(DIGRESSION: I think we have a premise for next year's ceremony! Mr. Soderbergh, call me! END OF DIGRESSION)

No, to the extent that the Oscars are a competition, they are a marketing competition, the winners a reflection of which studio did the best job of promoting their product.  But quite often, the Oscars are also an opportunity for Hollywood to make a statement.  And in this year Black Lives Matter and white nationalists parading proudly through American streets, the voters of the Motion Picture Academy could have--should have--made a clear statement about the value of diversity in the world of film. A clear statement that the movies can look like the best vision of a multicultural America. Instead, the statement that Hollywood made by bestowing the highest honors on representatives of the status quo is that the Academy is still largely stuck in the past.

*****

I said "surprisingly" about the wins by McDormand and, especially, Hopkins.  The Award ceremony producers clearly expected something different, as evidenced by the otherwise inexplicable decision to announce "Best Picture" before "Best Actress" and "Best Actor."  Presumably, Steven Soderbergh (along with any number of other people) thought Chadwick Boseman would receive a posthumous Oscar.  The announcement of his win would certainly have been a highly emotional moment--not a dry eye in the house--a moment which would have rendered the award for Best Picture anticlimactic, no matter which film won.  But from a television-production perspective, the Oscars got the absolute worst result.  Boseman would have been perfect.  Ahmed or Yeun would have at least been seen as young, exciting avatars of Hollywood's next generation.  Gary Oldman would have at least been there to make a speech!  Instead, the award went to a highly respected previous winner, who wasn't even at the ceremony in any of its 92 locations; word is, he had to be woken up to be told he had won. 

I suppose the one positive to take away from all this is that, in case you were wondering, even the producers of the show do not, in fact, know the winners ahead of time.  Three cheers for integrity?

*****

Can we please, please, PLEEEEEASSE never again do extended introductions of each nominee.  Seriously, I don't need to hear biographical details about each of these people or hear Laura Dern emote over everyone's "bravery" or what have you.  If I want biographical details, well, that's why God gave us Wikipedia.  That's how I know that Carey Mulligan is a former Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan. . . 

. . . OK, maybe I shouldn't rely on Wikipedia, but still! Let's keep the show moving people!  Give us a clip from the movie and get on with it!

And the Oscar Goes to. . . Something You Most Likely Haven't Seen

 It's that time again! Time for the Solipsist to issue his wholly uninformed, yet guaranteed-correct--

(DISCLAIMER: Predictions not guaranteed to be correct. END OF DISCLAIMER)

--predictions for the 2021 Academy Awards.

It has been, to put it mildly, a strange year for the Academy Awards.  For the first time, the Best Picture winner will go to a made-for-TV film.  Because ALL the films were made for TV.  Oh, sure, the studios may have made big deal of abiding by the "rules" of making their films eligible for Oscar consideration by releasing them in theaters for at least a limited release, but given Covid-restrictions, these films could only be viewed by three people at a time--and these three people had to be tested for the coronavirus, quarantine for 14 days prior to the screening, sign a waiver absolving the studios of any responsibility for future infection, and wear level-five protection Hazmat suits to the theater.  Which, let's face it, seems like a helluva lot to go through to see "Minari."  Far better to stream the nominees from the comfort of one's own home, where the screens might be smaller, but the snacks are generally cheaper.

Whether this is the first year of a new normal for prestige film remains to be seen.  People do seem somewhat eager to get back into movie theaters.  The trades were all giddy over the boffo box-office business done by "Godzilla vs Kong"--not likely to be nominated for any awards (which is a shame, really, because MechaGodzilla gave a thoroughly heartwarming performance #OscarsSoNon-Kaiju)--but was this surprising?  Of COURSE it cleaned up at the box office!  Newly vaccinated people are so eager to get back into their old entertainment habits, they would have paid money to sit in front of an IMAX screen to watch paint dry! Or to watch "Wonder Woman 1984"!  (Not that I recommend the latter.)  At the same time, though, for the mid-budget "prestige" films that make up the bulk of the Oscar contenders, there really isn't much to be gained from watching on a big screen.  I love Anthony Hopkins, but I'm sure I could get the same emotional impact of "The Father" on a small screen as I could if I experienced it in a format where Hopkins' nostril is the size of my whole body.  Indeed, it might be preferable.

But these are considerations for another time.  For now, let's get to the picks!

(DISCLAIMER: I have seen only three of the films nominated for Best Picture: "Judas and the Black Messiah," "Mank," and "Trial of the Chicago Seven."  Not that this will stop me from pontificating on everything else. END OF DISCLAIMER)

Best Picture: Let's get the big one out of the way first.  "Nomadland" is apparently the favorite, having received universal critical acclaim and also winning the Golden Globe for Best Drama.  I've also heard a lot about "Minari," and it would be interesting if the Oscar went to a Korean movie for a second year in a row, making Korea the new Tom Hanks.  There's always something to be said for betting on the movie with the most nominations, which would be "Mank," which also has the advantage of being a movie about Hollywood, a genre that generally does well at the Oscars, but I kind of feel that the strongest competition might just be "Judas and the Black Messiah," a very timely entry in the age of Black lives Matter.  Still, I'm gonna go with the "safe bet" here: Pick: Nomadland

Best Actor: Let's strike Gary Oldman: He's won his Oscar already.  Similarly, I think we can strike Anthony Hopkins, who may be one of the greatest actors in film history, but who won't win for a movie ("The Father") that nobody has seen.  Furthermore, in an Oscar year that has featured the most diverse set of nominees ever, I don't see the award going to an old, white guy--an old white BRITISH guy, at that.  So this leaves Riz Ahmed ("Sound of Metal"), Chadwick Boseman ("Ma Rainey's Black Bottom"--RIP, King T'Challa! Wakanda Forever!), and Steven Yeun ("Minari").  The sentimental pick, of course, is Boseman, whose life and career ended far too early.  He did win a Golden Globe for this performance, and his widow gave one of the most wrenching speeches I've ever seen.  But posthumous wins are rare--if for no other reason than that it's rare that someone dies between the time their movie opens and the Oscars are distributed.  Will Boseman follow in the footsteps of Peter Finch, Heath Ledger, and Meryl Streep?  (It's true: Streep died shortly before winning the award for "The Iron Lady."  Every performance since then has been computer-generated.)  Possibly, but I think I'm going to go in this case with. . .  Pick: Riz Ahmed

Best Actress: Frances McDormand ("Nomadland") is probably the front-runner here, but, again, she's already won--twice, in fact.  Viola Davis ("Ma Rainey. . . ") is probably her stiffest competition, along with Carey Mulligan ("Promising Young Woman").  Since "Ma Rainey" was somehow snubbed for a Best Picture nomination, I think this will be the consolation prize.  Pick: Viola Davis

Best Supporting Actor: Daniel Kaluuya ("Judas and the Black Messiah").  It's the wrong category, though: Kaluuya was the lead in this movie.  Indeed, that was probably the biggest flaw of the movie, really more a biopic about Fred Hampton than about Hampton's betrayal by one of his lieutenants (as implied by the title).  Not that there's anything wrong with a biopic of Fred Hampton, but, as at least one critic has pointed out, the film does not do a particularly good job of presenting the psychological and ethical dilemmas confronted by the "Judas" of the title.  Lakeith Stanfield (also nominated for Best Supporting Actor) is a fine performer, and does a decent job as the tormented Bill O'Neal, but his story is largely overshadowed by that of the charismatic Hampton.  As I mentioned, this is one of the few movies I saw, and, really, what I remember from this movie is Daniel Kaluuya,

Best Supporting Actress: A couple of years back, I predicted that Glenn Close was a mortal lock to win her first Academy Award for "The Wife."  As I stated then, this would be not so much recognition of her typical brilliance in that little-seen movie, but rather a belated acknowledgment of her status as the second greatest American film actress of the last fifty years (and of course, the greatest living American film actress, #RIPMerylStreep).  And so, of course, she went on to lose to Olivia Colman.  Well, tonight is the rematch!  Close is up for Best Supporting Actress ("Hillbilly Elegy"), squaring off against her nemesis Colman ("The Father").  There is no way in Hell that Colman beats her twice.  Glenn Close is about to cap off her brilliant, breathtaking career.  Pick: Maria Bakalova ("Borat Subsequent Moviefilm")

Best Director: Conventional wisdom usually gives the edge in this category to whatever film ultimately wins Best Picture.  There's a good chance, then, that the award will go to Chloe Zhao ("Nomadland").  The other nominees are Thomas Vinterberg (Who?!?) for "Another Round" (What?!?), Lee Isaac Chung ("Minari"), Emerald Fennell ("Promising Young Woman"), and David Fincher ("Mank").  I'm gonna say that this might be an award where the voters reward a Hollywood lifer.  Pick: David Fincher

Those are the biggies.  Here, just 'cause, are my other picks, which are mostly pure guesses:

Animated Feature Film: "Soul"

Cinematography: "Mank" (When there's a black and white film up for consideration, pick it.)

Costume Design: "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom"

Documentary: "My Octopus Teacher" ('cause I've heard of it)

Documentary Short: "Colette" ('cause it was the first one listed)

Film Editing: "Nomadland"

International Feature: "Another Round" (I mean, its director got nominated!)

Make-up: "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom"

Music (Original Score): "Soul"

Original Song: "Fight for You"

Production Design: "Mank"

Animated Short: "Burrow"

Live Action Short: "Two Distant Strangers" (I have no idea.)

Sound: "Sound of Metal" (It's in the title!)

Visual Effects: "Tenet" (OK, I saw this one, too.)

Adapted Screenplay: "One Night in Miami"

Original Screenplay: "Trial of the Chicago Seven" (Because Sorkin.)

Enjoy the show, everyone!