Volume 3, Issue 74: How to Fight Loneliness
"Just smile all the time."
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I saw a truly terrible movie this weekend. I’ve seen some bad movies since the pandemic started—whew boy, did anybody else make it through Capone?—but this was the first one I’d seen on the big screen, with a packed audience all crammed in there to watch this thing flop around and die up there. There is something uniquely magical about a truly awful movie; it’s an art form whose worst productions are, in their own way, art forms of their own. Bad TV shows happen all the time, and in many ways, they’re almost meant to be bad: TV’s bar for entry is so low, and the desire for unchallenging, empty content so high, that bad television is in many ways the business plan. (This makes the exceptions that much more remarkable.) Bad music isn’t just common, it’s generally what’s selling the most records, and besides, so much of music is wrapped up in one’s personal taste: I suppose there’s probably one Florida-Georgia Line record that’s a little bit better than all the other ones, but they’re all going to sound like a cat being stabbed to me. And most bad books never get published at all, and the ones that do are so the product of a singular individual’s mindset that you almost have to respect the hustle: Clearing all the hurdles standing in the way of getting a bad book published almost feels like an admirable achievement all by itself.
But a bad movie? A bad movie can feel, more than anything, like a collective delusion. Movies are expensive and complicated to make, requiring hundreds of people from all different fields and expertises coming together and believing, in their heart of hearts, that what they’re doing not only will connect with an audience enough to make them money, but in fact provides enough value on some basic human level that it is worth their time and effort in their chosen field, a field that’s the dream of millions of people who will never taste the opportunity. People go into the field of moviemaking out of a romantic ideal, out of a desire to connect with that first moment, when they were a child, that they were transported to another world of magic and mystery and adventure and deep emotion. (My moment was Oliver Stone’s JFK, as previously discussed here.) You have to believe, even if that belief ends up coated with inevitable reserves of cynicism and opportunism, that what you are doing is worthwhile and interesting and inspiring. A bad movie is the result of hundreds of people telling themselves that they are making something they will be proud of and then being proven dramatically, hilariously wrong. It’s almost profound when it happens. When it hits just right, witnessing it can be nearly as powerful as seeing something great.
(You’ll have to listen to Grierson & Leitch on Monday to get my full rundown on what movie this is. But you probably won’t be surprised.)
This is not always how I felt about bad movies. I used to get angry about them, furious that my time had been wasted, that people were watching such terrible movies when there were so many great ones out there. But now I’ve come to appreciate them, even respect the people who put in all the time and effort to make them, however misguided. I’ve think I’m coming to appreciate a lot of things I used to get angry about.
Or, more to the point: Maybe I’m just not getting that angry about anything anymore.
This may be just a temporary condition, my middle-aged-dad version of a Hot Vax Summer, and I’m not sure if it’s getting older, the pandemic putting these sort of matters into more perspective or a combination of both, but I find myself, these days, find myself not getting too riled up about much of anything. I seem to be lacking the hot-take arrows in my proverbial hot-take quiver. Infrastructure funding debate? Hope they get that figured out! People refusing vaccines? That’s a shame, I hope they don’t get Covid, but, eh, whaddya gonna do, people are nuts sometimes! Cleveland Gladiators name? Seems fine! Every time I go on social media, I’ll see everybody yelling about something, whether it’s the Olympics or football conference realignment or a billionaire’s penis rocket, and I find myself shrugging. Yeah, you’re probably right. That’s probably bad. You should still probably go outside. Go to a bar and meet a friend! Remember when we couldn’t do that at all? You can now! You totally can! Why are you inside being angry about this?
I know there is privilege in this mindset, and I am not saying there are not things to get angry about right now. There are. There are a lot! Many of them are happening right now, in my very state! But I also believe there is a sort of an internal governor for outrage, a limit to which a person can realistically be furious and, more to the point, can realistically expect anyone to continue to take that particular fury seriously. When I see one of my sons is angry about something, I can look to the context of that anger to gauge its specific passion. If they were growling and grousing about not having a certain toy three hours ago and now they’ve forgotten completely about it and are growling and grousing about something else entirely, well, I’m not going to lose too much sleep about resolving whatever is causing them their current anger. Right now, it sure looks like they just want to be angry. I’ll wait until they cool down and then find out what’s still bothering them. Then we can figure out what to do about it.
I do not know if I am right about this. I’m probably not. When you look around the world, closely, it can be difficult not to be angry about something. The world’s pretty screwed up! But I also think the world is actually quite beautiful and worth being hopeful about, and part of life, part of being a mature, functional member of society, is being able to hold those two facts in your head at the same time. Sometimes the balanced shifts more one direction than the other. I spent much of 2020 in despair, like most of the rest of you. But there’s a lot that’s better in 2021 than it was in 2020. For all the rising cases numbers, there are still fewer people (a lot fewer people) getting sick and fewer people dying than there were for much of 2020, particularly the latter few months, thanks to an incredible vaccine produced by human ingenuity, intelligence and dogged determination. The horrible, very stupid person who was President for 2020 is no longer the President. You can go see a friend or family member now, and embrace them. You can walk your children to school. You can watch a baseball game. You can shake hands with a stranger. You can go see a movie—yes, even a bad one. The world is not perfect. But it is better. We have gone through something tumultuous, something that will be with us the rest of our lives. That something is not over. But here in the United States, it is better. It’s OK to feel better because of it. It’s OK to take a breath.
There is plenty of time to fortify ourselves for the fights ahead: There are many coming, and fast. But I also believe it reasonable, and sane, to take a step back, have a casual little walk and whistle around the block, eat an ice cream cone, put your bare feet in the wet grass, drink an ice cold beer with an old friend, and try to remember what it feels like to be alive for a little bit. I know there are bad people out there. I know things are going to always be hard. I know the movie sucked. It’s still a gift to get to be a part of any of this. There are battles before us. We will need to be strong for them. And part of that is taking a breath now. I’m going to get unreasonable angry about wounds and offenses large and small soon enough. There is all the time in the world for that. Now, though? Now I don’t have the stomach for it. Now I’m just happy we’re all still here.
Here is a numerical breakdown of all the things I wrote this week, in order of what I believe to be their quality.
What Made the Bucks Title Great Was the Fans, GQ. It’s so so great to have this part of it back.
The Olympics Probably Shouldn’t Happen, But We Will All Still Watch, New York. Weirdly, I’ve found myself more into them this year.
Ranking the Second-Half Pennant Chases, MLB.com. If only the Cardinals were in any of them.
Vaccine Hesitance Has Been There From the Beginning, Medium. Even from the good guys.
At Last, No Legacy Talk at the NBA Finals, GQ. Leave Chris Paul alone!
The Biggest Names That Could Be Traded at the Deadline, MLB.com. Max Scherzer isn’t going anywhere, but it’d be cool if he was.
Teams That Should Stand Pat at the Deadline, MLB.com. Another Cardinals reference, and another that’s not in a good way.
Internet Nostalgia: The Dress, Medium. Let us foretell every ugly fight of the next half-decade.
The Best Six Movies of the First Half of 2021, Medium. For the historical record.
PODCASTS
Grierson & Leitch, a catchup show, with “Black Widow,” “Space Jam: A New Legacy,” “No Sudden Movie,” “The Tomorrow War” and “Pig.”
Seeing Red, Bernie and I talked before the Cubs loss on Tuesday, so we were still standing back then.
Waitin' Since Last Saturday, no show this week, going weekly next month.
LONG STORY YOU SHOULD READ THIS MORNING … OF THE WEEK
“Jeff Bezos’ Master Plan,” Franklin Foer, The Atlantic. This is from November 2019, but I hadn’t read it until this week, when it resurfaced in the wake of the Amazon head’s dorky little jaunt in his penis ship. It explains a lot.
BOOK I’VE READ THAT YOU SHOULD READ
“Answers in the Form of Questions: A Definitive History and Insider’s Guide to ‘Jeopardy!’” Claire McNear. Published just before Alex Trebek died, McNear’s wonderful book already feels like a vital historical document about a time that has passed and will likely never return again.
ONGOING LETTER-WRITING PROJECT!
I am caught up! I have answered all letters, and all I’m waiting on now is a new batch of bookplates to send out to the last 40 or so people who pre-ordered. So give me more work to do! Write me at:
Will Leitch
P.O. Box 48
Athens GA 30603
CURRENTLY LISTENING TO
“Sing A Simple Song,” Sly and the Family Stone. You really need to watch to Questlove’s Summer of Soul, which is currently available on Hulu. All of it is great, but Sly and the Family Stone singing this song absolutely brings the house down.
Remember to listen to The Official Will Leitch Newsletter Spotify Playlist, featuring every song ever mentioned in this section.
Thank you to the kind human who sent me this, after last week’s newsletter.
Grierson claims to still have this shirt. I want one, if any are out there.
Have a great weekend, all.
Best,
Will
Movies: Script reads great, actors look great but then somehow it just doesn't work on the screen. Happens.....