There are worse ways to spend a Saturday than browsing through the Dead Media Working Notes. Don’t miss the uncategorized notes, either. I regard this as a museum of ways in which human beings have tried to touch one another; it strikes me as deeply Cronenbergian.
And what goes around, comes around.
I had an interesting discussion with Jere about the whole flash mob thing, with some random musing on dada. I wound up saying:
I’m not sure that there’s not a paradox inherent in the concept. The need to draw in a lot of people conflicts with the need to keep the details under wraps. Once People Magazine does a story on it (which will be next week, I understand), it’s no longer mysterious.
Another effect of cheap communication. But you can’t know until you try, so it’s worth trying to see what happens. Failed experiments are still useful.
Regarding spontaneity, I think we had some in Boston. In the absence of specific instructions, I triggered the Happy Birthday whistle on the spur of the moment, and the crowd was willing to pick it up. Someone else (not an organizer) triggered the applause.
That was what was fun for me. The crowd knew it was supposed to do something, but didn’t know what. Supersaturated solution. It was clear from moment one that the surprise and delight aspect wasn’t going to be so strong. But it was interesting getting the crowd to come together on something that wasn’t preplanned.
In the more general sense, I think it’s healthy for the media to be reminded that sometimes fads grow and fade without their help. The phenomenon indicates that the media isn’t the only vector of information anymore.
Which is probably not the final story, but I thought I’d throw it out there.
Don’t let anyone tell you affirmative action is only for minorities these days. I’m thinking Bishop Caldwell is crazy like a fox — he’s picking up a fair amount of attention, which easily assists with both his stated objectives and any yearning for publicity he might feel.
John Tynes claims, accurately, that Dirty Pretty Things is the “best damn film of the year.” So far, true. Stephen Frears has turned out another little gem. He paints the story using the edges of society, creating art with the conventions of the dark thriller genre. It’s not just a thriller, and it’s not just one of his social pieces; it’s an elegant braid of both.
Audrey Tautou kind of slips into the impish Amelie persona once or twice, which is a little odd for someone playing a Turkish immigrant, but it more or less works. The rest of the acting was superb. Benedict Wong was especially good, and got the best line in the movie in the best scene of the movie. Lucky guy.
I kind of want to be more descriptive, but it’d be a shame to rob anyone of the pleasure of letting the movie unfold. The setting is great, and the art direction is very evocative. There are moments, when the lead is suffering from nasty sleep deprivation, when Frears captures that feeling without falling back on the grainy filmstock and heightened contrast that’s already become a cliche.
It makes me want to go back to The Hit (mmm, Tim Roth) and watch all the Frears in order, excepting maybe the one with Julia Roberts.
Now, that’s a job posting. Pity it was taken down, but luckily someone saved it from obscurity. Since I stole the link from Phil Ringalda, I’m sure it’ll be all over the Internet by Monday at the latest.
It opens like this: “So you were a top Web Developer, once, many years ago, until the ‘correction’. Now nobody cares and you are shunned in public, much as lepers were in the fifteenth century.” From there on in, it’s all uphill.
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