Can You Reopen If You Never Really Closed?
You Keep On Using That Word. I Do Not Think It Means What You Think It Means
Greeting from Los Angeles, which is either at Threat Level Red, the center of the pandemic in the United States with a skyrocketing death toll, air quality rules suspended to allow for extra cremations, and an almost 0% ICU bed capacity, or improving at such a stellar rate that it’s okay for people to go to the mall.
California may be re-opening, but we’re not. I’m leaving the apartment about once per week to go to the grocery store, and to get the mail and deliveries. As of last week, we’ve moved to double-masking. But with all of that, I’m starting to get slivers of a feeling I haven’t felt in a while: hope.
During the primaries, Joe Biden was far from my first choice of candidate. And yet, now every time I hear the phrase “President Biden” I get a little surge of a thrill. Good thing I don’t work for the New York Times.
There’s an old saying that says you “campaign in poetry and govern in prose.” The inauguration certainly had its share of great poetry. I especially thought Biden’s address was stunning, and I can’t remember the last time I heard a President deliver an address that dripped with so much sincerity. And after four years (and many decades) of political insincerity, I think it’s exactly what was called for. I will also confess that I never get tired of referring to the new Second Gentleman as “…and Doug,” in the same dramatic tones they use in that Liberty Mutual ad campaign.
Political Stories
I love stories about history and politics and political personalities. Right now, I’m rewatching the great HBO John Adams miniseries, which is one of my favorite examples of the genre. Stories like these are almost always surrounded by a conversation about “accuracy”, with one side calling out all of the misreprentatons, elisions and sometimes flat-out untruths, while the other side uses “dramatic license” to explain the changes. These arguments can never really be settled…and perhaps they don’t need to be. I can simultaneously hold a deep love and appreciation for the climatic moments in Act 2 of Hamilton in which Hamilton prevents Burr from winning the election in 1800 and sparks the war of words that leads directly to their fatal duel, while also being frustrated by the fact that the Hamilton’s real role in the election was much more nefarious, and that the precipitating event for the duel was an entirely different election. One doesn’t have to cancel out the other. Often good drama means bad history.
I’ve been groping my way towards something about why that might be, but I’m still working on a good way to articulate the idea. There’s something to how our (western) storytelling models about protagonists and antagonists, conflict, struggle and resolution, are all inherently biased towards the role of the Executive and against the role of the Legislative. It’s very hard to tell a good story about a legislator. The elements of the legislator’s job — compromise, negotiation and often settling for what you can get — often don’t fit with the needs of an active, compelling protagonist. I’m having trouble thinking of good stories where a legislator is the “hero.” Whereas there’s an almost inexhaustible list of stories in which the protagonist (or: executor) is constrained in their ability to Do The Thing by some short sighted council, commission, board, or oversight committee who Just Doesn’t Understand, who Can’t See The Imminent Danger, and Bickers Among Themselves. Never mind that the job of the legislative body, at least in the United States, is to actively serve as a check on executive power. Executives read was solo actors, i.e. heroes. Legislators are a collective impediments to action, i.e. obstacles.
I’m still trying to work this all out. So I’d love to know if you can think of examples of stories where the protagonist is primarily a legislator and not an executive.
Currently Watching
Along with John Adams, here’s what else is on my screens lately:
We recently finished a rewatch of the great Danish political series Borgen, before they come back for a Netflix-financed 4th season.
It was such a good time that we decided to try some of the other great Danish shows, and are finally watching Forbrydelsen (aka The Killing.) One of the unexpected results of this is that our home has now become a Soren Malling Stan Zone, just in time for the upcoming miniseries The Investigation.
Let me be the 17th person to tell you that Lupin on Netflix is excellent. Omar Sy is a bona fide star (and really has that Idris Elba-in-Luther saunter down pat) and I would not be surprised if Louis Leterrier gets asked to direct a James Bond move in the near future.
Let me also probably be the first person to campaign for you to give Servant a try on Apple+. The second season just began, and it’s delightfully batshit, with a cast of characters that manages to be both detestable and sympathetic at the same time - a really neat trick that I wish I understood how they’re pulling off. It’s also a career-redefining performance from Rupert Grint, who is serving some serious James Spader energy. Servant also wins the prize for supplying the most unlikely quote to work its way into heavy rotation in our home: “If it’s not my fucking fish guy, I’m fucked.”
Miscellany:
Matt Berry from What We Do In The Shadows (and Toast of London!) is doing voiceover for a series of ads, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t laugh every single time I see them.
I was going to close with a “Have fun storming the castle” gif, but given the events of 1/6, I think a pause on “storming” jokes is probably a good idea, don’t you?
As you wish,
Jay