How Bout Decency?

The #1 TV show on Netflix last week was Baby Reindeer, an excellent seven-part limited series about a struggling comedian/bar worker and his middle-aged female stalker.  Adapted by comic performer Richard Gadd from his one-man play, it is based on a true account of events, many of which happened to him.

There are a lot of ways to describe each of the half-hour episodes of this riveting story and, knowing I’d be recommending it to friends, students and readers, I’ve struggled in how exactly to describe it.

What are you baby reindeer?

It’s funny but it also deals with trauma, mental health and sexual abuse.  So my plan to simply call it a dramedy felt a bit like a cop out. 

Wikipedia refers to it as a black comedy drama-thriller miniseries but, well, isn’t almost everything on TV that’s not Young Sheldon?

Calm down, Shelly.

Netflix wisely doesn’t put it into any category except #1, which at the end of the day is what almost every distributor, network, studio, streamer or executive of any kind cares about anyway.

Apropos of this and more, I just read that as he fired many creative and business people under him, and gutted many of his company’s most beloved divisions (Note: TCM, anyone?), Warner Bros/Discovery president and CEO David (The Zazz) Zaslav saw his yearly salary rise 26.5% in 2023 to $49.7 million (Note: All that for elongating the writer and actor’s strike in order to punish content creators for ….something, and renaming HBO to the somehow slightly sleazy-sounding MAX).

UGH!

And on the agency side, Endeavor CEO Ari Emanuel’s 2023 pay package was $83.9 million, including salary, stock and bonuses, with a lot of it coming from his role as CEO of Endeavor-controlled WWE (Worldwide Wresting Entertainment) and UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship). 

Nevertheless, when you make four times what you made the previous year, in most corners these days it’s counted as a win-win-win-win. Who cares that longtime WWE founder/leader, as well as Trump bestie, Vince MacMahon, finally resigned only a mere few months ago while under criminal investigation for longtime sexual abuse and trafficking charges?  A buck’s, a buck.

UGHHHHHHHHHH

But I digress.

Though perhaps not.

Because all this got me thinking once more about the obscene amounts of money to be made from just about anything, or any type of behavior, in fiction or in real life, whether it be categorized as great, awful or, well, something in between.

So much money

There used to be a sort of universal definition for all kinds obscene behaviors (Note: Or wins, as some of these behaviors are now considered) in financial and personal interactions.  This is not to say there were always immediate consequences or that we could always define what obscene, or synonyms like abhorrent, truly were when accepted by people or in behavior.

Yet as US Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart famously stated in a 1964 ruling about the definition of pornography, and by extension obscenity, in a famous case where he wound up declaring Louis Malle’s 1958 film The Lovers, was, indeed, NOT the latter:

I know it when I see it.

… and that’s that

Still, audio this week from the five male conservative SCOTUS justices indicates they think a US President (Note: Donald Trump) might be immune from criminal prosecution for trying to pressure and cajole legislators and election officials, as well as cheat and otherwise try to undo his 2020 election loss.

Obscene?  Abhorrent?  Or just plain reasonable behavior?  What say all of YOU?

And then imagine what the line of agreement will be between “those guys” and the other three liberal, and one only “strangely conservative,” FEMALE SCOTUS justices over what kind of behaviors, actions or even thoughts constitute PORNOGRAPHIC or OBSCENE???

The mind boggles. 

Like my new hair??

And apologies for planting those images in your mind.

But this all somehow leads to the single intersection I had this week of HOPE with that dark, and ever darkening, side:

-Those themes of violence and abuse etched amid the jokes and humanity in Baby Reindeer.

-That gross imbalance of paydays certain top industry CEOs received last year while actors, writers, and below-the-line crews in IATSE, the people who create their content, the gas fueling their gargantuan paychecks, were left no alternative but to strike for many months or endure endless, arm-twisting renegotiations for even a vaguely fair deal.

-The unapologetic, very partisan and very extreme conservative agenda of every male member of the US Supreme Court as they brazenly rule to take away women’s rights over their own bodies and now attempt to bend long held common sense legal norms in order to excuse the bad and often heinous behavior of one of their politically like-minded, presidential-level BROS, and future BROS.

… help

And no, that intersection of HOPE won’t be ushering in the return of Barack Obama to the White House in some fantasy presidential draft, much as you might be hoping for that.

Oddly, it was the comments made by SNL’s Colin Jost in his comic roast of journalists, current events, Trump and, yes, President Joe Biden, at this weekend’s annual Washington Correspondent’s Dinner that brought HOPE home for me.  A dinner that for 100 plus years has given scholarships to young, aspiring reporters and awards for outstanding  journalism in the country during the past year.

Out from behind the desk

After a bunch of very pithy, and even some flat-footed lines and jabs on presidential politics, this year’s candidates for POTUS, the reporting of news and the slow unraveling of the American social fabric that used to bind red and blue America together, Jost concluded his remarks with a touching and telling story about his recently deceased firefighter grandfather.

He noted his family hails from the predominantly Republican N.Y.C. borough of Staten Island, where “70% were for Trump” in the last election. Yet he said that the last time his 90 plus year-old grandfather voted, he told him he cast his ballot for Biden.

Get your tissues ready

At which point he turned directly from the center stage podium to Pres. Biden on the dais and said:

He voted for you in the last election he ever voted in.  He voted for you, and the reason he voted for you is that you’re a decent man. 

My grandpa voted for decency and decency is why we’re all here tonight. Decency is how we’re able to be here tonight. 

Decency is how we’re able to make jokes about each other and one of us doesn’t go to prison after….

 …And when you look at the levels of freedom throughout history and even around the world today, this  is the exception  This freedom is incredibly rare.  And the journalists in this room help protect that freedom and we cannot ever take that for granted. 

I’m not much for moralizing but it made me wonder if it’s true decency that we crave. 

Is this the lawn sign we need?

Not decency dictated by the resurrected rules of an obscure, 1864 anti-abortion law in Arizona, but 21st century decency that takes into account the beliefs of the majority of Americans living here today.  This includes not only freedom of speech but freedom of the press.

Here are some actual words, names and adjectives Trump publicly used when he was president, and in the years since, to describe reporters and other members of the media:

Truly sick people, fake news, enemy of the people, totally corrupt, an evil propaganda machine, total losers, out of control, dishonest, crooked, deranged, pure evil, scum of the earth, lying and disgusting.

how did we tolerate this??

Not to mention the public mocking imitation of one disabled reporter, the chants of lock ‘em up and threats to take away broadcast licenses and change the libel laws in order to prosecute newspapers and radio/TV outlets for printing or reporting stories one (or HE) disagrees with.

It makes you think about constitutes true decency and more than hints at what is truly indecent in 2024.

Elvis Costello & The Attractions – “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding”

Imagine What?

In the last few weeks more than a handful of friends, family and acquaintances have told me in many different ways that they could never have imagined what passes for politics and news in the U.S. these days.

As is usual for these types of conversations, talk kept going back to the former US president, meaning the guy before Joe Biden, and the deviously gluttonous way in which he manages to devour everything and everyone in his path.

Now and forever

How is it that this happened???…they all eventually ask in various forms.

I know it’s important but if I hear one more word about Him, I’m going to scream… so many confess while simultaneously admitting they find themselves tuning out the news.

Every single day I wish he was dead.

Why doesn’t he just have a heart attack and die? 

I’ve gone to the bad place

The fury of those last thoughts often come with an apology for wishing or even imagining them.

Until I interrupt and confess I feel exactly the same way.

But more so. 

At which point I mention all of the ingenious ways that my imagination manages to… well, you know.

When they beg me to elaborate I mostly decline. 

Give in to the dark side

Though I must admit a few of them are so good that they scare even me.  And, after a particularly heinous news day…

Make me smile.

But see, that’s the thing with imagination.  It’s an incredible balm to the soul.  If you allow yourself to think it up, it can feel real. 

It doesn’t have to be real.  But it can help you think and process your innermost desires and demons and other stuff that you can’t quite yet categorize and comes from who knows where.

Or it can simply get it out of your head.  Maybe never to be heard from again but perhaps to be sorted out.

uh oh, we’ve entered the slippery slope

I’m a writer so I often write it down.  And very occasionally, but not often enough, it spawns a good idea for a script or story of some kind.  Or a new way to think about an old story I’ve been telling myself for years – either on paper, or in everyday life, or way, way in the past.

This weekend a good friend invited me to a filmed play of what was billed as a radical new version of Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya.

And playing ALL EIGHT PARTS in this retelling of a 125-plus-year-old Chekhov story was none other than the actor Andrew Scott.

Netflix’s Ripley. 

The tortured gay heartthrob from last year’s All Of Us Strangers. 

The hot priest from Fleabag. 

Moriarity from the long-running BBC series Sherlock.

Among others.

Does this man age??

You watch this guy nimbly jumping back and forth from one character to another, sometimes in mere seconds and other times in minutes, or monologues, as he quips, cajoles, argues, eats and occasionally even, with the use of his hands, shoulder, neck and breath, simultaneously portray two different male and female characters making love to each other, and all you can think about initially is….

How????? 

How is this possible?  How is he able to do this? 

And then… who imagined it?

All of these emotions

Well, it was adapted last year by the playwright Simon Stephens, who a decade ago theatrically shed light on and likely helped change the way we thought about autism in the groundbreaking play The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-Time (Note: Adapted from the novel by Mark Haddon, it’s won most major playwriting awards). 

And he is billed as co-creating it with both Scott and Sam Yates, a 40ish British stage and sometimes television and film director known for his unusual approach to both new and classical material.

Okay.

But then you ask yourself…

Why?????  Why do this?

Why do we need this?  Why do it at all? 

::Throws hands up::

Well, because someone, or a handful of ones, thought of it and needed to think of it.  Something about the world they lived in, or events they were personally experiencing, prompted them to think of it.  And then move forward with recreating something (and a bunch of fictional someones) from the past that would allow them to understand their present in a different way.

It’s not as if before seeing this filmed version of a play done last year at the National Theatre I was excited about seeing Uncle Vanya done as a one-man show.

Or frankly, any production of Uncle Vanya at all.  Nor, I venture to say, is the average person.

Preach it, Chairy

But watching Mr. Scott (Note: I so want to call him Andrew, or even Andy)… okay Andrew… throw himself so fully into instantly becoming so many people – with no wigs, no costumes, only a trajectory of mangled feelings, conflicts and eventually emotional outcomes, denials and realizations – well, it was about as contemporary as it gets for me.

It seemed that this film, of this play, had nothing at all to do with Uncle Vanya, or even the playwright himself. 

What it addressed were the myriad of emotions, sometimes life and death ones, we are ALL trying to manage as best we can these days.  Only to be shown there is no managing. 

See above

There is only being truthful about how and what we feel, taking the actions we believe fitting and holding out some hope for a better future when they don’t work out. 

And, well, to keep trying.

It might sound a bit trite, but that’s what this new version of Vanya, the one I didn’t think I needed but some other people imagined I might need, did for me.

We love an ah-ha moment

It made me realize once again that navigating what we call the politics of today is not much different for our generation than it ever was.

And that, lucky for us, back then Chekhov was quite an imaginative fellow himself.

The Temptations – “Just My Imagination”