Culture – Life on the Wicked Stage: Act 3

Sunday Morning Reading

Is reading, like writing, in danger?

Time for a little Sunday Morning Reading. But reader beware. Some think reading might be in danger. Read on. If you choose to.

Ben white 1MHU3zpTvro unsplash. A man sitting by a lake or river, reading a book.

Like a lot of folks who write I’ve been recently writing about writing in this AI age. But writing is only one side of the page writers want readers to turn. Readers don’t turn pages if they don’t like what they read. Bryan Cantrill thinks readers might be slowing their roll in his piece The Revolt of the Reader. I’d give it a read whether you write, or simply read the words of others.

Becky Ferreira takes a look at how The Remnants Of A Lost ‘Supercontinent’ Just Rewrote The History Of Life On Earth. Accepting that would require a global scale of editing and require quite a bit of new reading.

Roko’s Basilisk. Ever heard of it? Yes or no, you should check out Albert Buneko’s piece What If We Could Have A Future?

Perhaps you’ve heard that there’s a 10% chance AI will destroy humanity in the next decade? Over the weekend Anthropic’s Dario Amodei penned a large piece (or maybe he just had Claude generate it-who knows?) titled We Must Pace The Frontier. In the race he’s running he’s calling for things to slow down and governments to step in because there’s danger out there. It’s caused quite a stir. Fellow race participants, OpenAI’s Sam Altman and SpaceXAI’s Elon Musk, have quickly jumped in to agree. Either these guys are seeing the writing on the wall from folks who just aren’t buying their overhyped promises, or one of their AIs cracked into something we don’t know about yet. Or it could just be more hype. Or it could just be an attempt to push their agenda in upcoming talks the US is to have with China. Given that no one trusts anything they say, who knows? I’d say who cares, but there is that whole future thing that Albert Buneko was writing about.

Speaking of writing on the wall, apparently the gold rush for vibe coding apps isn’t what it looked like it might be. Paul Ford asks A.I. Was Supposed To Give Us Killer Apps. What Happened? The world only needs so many task management apps.

In the political realm folks are turning their attention to January 3, 2027 as a possible next January 6th coup. Michael Luttig lays it all out in The Final Battle For America’s Democracy. It’s a scary read. I think what he lays out is indeed possible. That said, if there is such a thing as a final battle, I think it was lost with the last presidential election.

With a hat tip to David Todd McCarty, I discovered Patrick Metzger’s piece What Canadians Won’t Admit About America. You should discover it as well.

And if you’re not going to be doing any reading this Sunday, perhaps go out and take a walk. Before you do, read David Todd McCarty’s Life On Goshen Landing Road.

Read well.

(Image from Ben White on Unsplash)

Thanks for reading. Feel free to subscribe if you want. It’s free. If you’re interested in just what the heck Sunday Morning Reading is all about you can read more about the origins of Sunday Morning Reading here. If you’d like more click on the Sunday Morning Reading link in the category column to check out what’s been shared on Sunday’s past. You can also find more of my writings on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome. This site does not use affilate links.

The Debate Over This Writing Thing

Words, words, words. Bits, bits, bits.

Several weeks ago there was quite a debate bouncing around about what writing is or might or might not become in this era of Artificial Intelligence. Quite a lot was written about the subject. I watched and read most of it beginning with John Gruber’s piece on Daring Fireball about Anthropic’s use of watermarks for AI-generated writing. Gruber called it a “perversion of writing.” Many others weighed in with words, words, words. And more words.

Shutterstock 2525907005. A hand writing with a quill an ink.

I particularly liked Dan Moren’s piece in response, primarily because it lines up with what I’ve learned and currently think about AI-writing. Here’s a quote:

That might be the case if AIs were writing. But they are not; they are simply generating text. Those two things are not the same. As per the premise of John’s piece, writing is about carefully picking the words and crafting the meaning of what you’re saying, things that AI do not—and patently cannot—do.

In case you’re wondering, I’m in the camp that says that AI isn’t capable of “writing.” If you know anything about the tech at all, you should be too. AI might be able to predict the next word, but that’s a mathematical equation not writing. If you insist otherwise, I hope the kool-aid tasted good on the way down.

Back in the days of my youth, one of the many rituals of sorting wheat from the chaff in childhood education was teaching us to to write mechanically, moving slowly but steadily up to writing things with meaning (remember book reports?) and once we moved into college there was Freshman Comp. Do they still teach Freshman Comp these days?

It wasn’t until later in college when I actually learned what I came to believe writing was all about. Dr. Ralph Cohen, an English professor who taught courses on Shakespeare, film as a narrative art, and surveys of literature, was one of the few professors who kicked my butt. He challenged me in ways others didn’t and I ended up taking most of the classes he offered.

In teaching Shakespeare, he laid out what the physical act and monetary cost of writing during the Bard’s time actually required. There was a real cost to committing an idea to the paper he made out of rags and old linens. Simply put, it meant the work of writing happened in the man’s brain and soul either before or as he was scribbling away with his quill and ink.

I was never good at writing with pen/pencil and paper. Nevertheless, I fought my mother tooth and nail when she insisted I take a typing class in high school. She won. I’m glad she did. Writing for me did become easier on a keyboard and a keyboard has been the primary medium of committing my thoughts to paper or digital bits ever since.

In thinking about this debate I pulled a dust covered dictionary off of one of my book shelves to look up the definition of writing. It’s The American College Dictionary published by Random House copyrighted in 1961. Here’s what that says below:

I also looked up the word “write.”

And the word “writer.”

Google Gemini’s AI summary provides the following:

The highlights in that result are Google’s. Certainly there are many other dictionaries with differing and distinct definitions spelled out. I’d wager that most, like those above, focus on the mechanical. Perhaps that would steer the debate more towards those who think AI can “write.” Frankly, I find that devaluing when I think of the act, or dare I say the art of writing.

Having spent a life in the theatre, written a few plays and musicals along the way, and heard the chimes at midnight with many a playwright and composer searching for the right words or notes, I believe there’s an element that’s missing when most engage in this debate. I’d call it the soul.

Otherwise the infinite monkey theorem comes into play and renders all writing reductive to a fault. Or if The Simpsons is more your cup of tea, 1000 monkeys with a 1000 typewriters.

There are some that are trying to define parameters of this debate as being about process. But that’s any creator’s thing. Some want to frame the discussion about how the march of technological progress always presents change. So, why resist it?

If writing, or any other art form was supposed to be easy or easier that’s when the devaluing kicks in. The playing fields of creation have never be level. Why start doing so now?

That last link above is from a piece from Tim O’Reilly on the subject. I’m not sure if he wrote it or he coached an AI to do so. You’ll understand that if you do read the piece. Regardless, it’s worth your time if you have interest in the debate. Here’s a quote:

We’re in the early days, still shooting filmed stage plays. The masters of this instrument will uncover themselves. When they do, what they produce isn’t going to be slop. In the meantime, I don’t think we should be shooting down people who are trying to push AI’s limits in writing or art. Writers should be trying to figure out the medium, just as software developers are doing in coding.

We may indeed be in the early days. I translate that in our current moment to folks paying for and investing a lot of money to use beta software that promises much, doesn’t always work, and more often than not yields different responses to the same prompt. But that’s the slippery slope we’ve fallen down with most tech these days.

Early filmmakers may have indeed been constantly adapting and evolving the technology they used and the way they used it. Although to pick a nit, the early filmmakers analogy doesn’t really hold up, as most early films were shot outdoors until lighting technology caught up, allowing for better filming of interiors. That’s when filming stage plays really began. (Thanks, Dr. Cohen.)

The distinction is that those early filmmakers were pushing their technology envelopes to better tell a story in a new medium of motion pictures. Not mimic one that had existed since man first painted tales of the hunt on cave walls. That assumes you accept the pieces of the definitions of writing that describe it as a method of using symbols, characters or words on some surface in order to communicate an idea.

But back to my thoughts on writing in opposition to those I disagree with. It’s safe to say that my bet is anything AI writes, no matter how well prompted, won’t endure for 400 or so years the way Shakespeare has. Or in later generations, Chekov, Ibsen, Miller, Mamet or Shepard. Not even the summaries. Of course, who knows what will endure 400 years into this wacky future we seem hell bent on creating? Or is that erasing?

I’ll end this with a quote from Mr. Shakespeare:

Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears
Moist it again, and frame some feeling line
That may discover such integrity.

Two Gentlemen From Verona, Act 3, Scene 2

A 1000 monkeys indeed.

(Images from KinoMasterskaya on Shutterstock. Dictionary photos by the author.)

Thanks for reading. You can subscribe to this blog if you care to. You can also find more of my writings on a variety of topics on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome. I can also be found on social media under my name as above. This site does not use affilate links.

Sunday Morning Reading

Reading and thinking on a rainy late-summer morning.

I have a love/hate relationship with late August in Chicago. Hints of Autumn, my favorite season, become stronger. The sun rises later, which I’m not a fan of. That’s where we are on this rainy Sunday morning in Chicago, so it’s time for a little Sunday Morning Reading. And thinking.

Ronit shaked ENNtoNUxhU unsplash. Transparent umbrellas appear to float in the sky.

I like to think I keep an open mind. I also like to think that the life we’re living currently will one day be better. Bottom line, I like to think. Daryl Van Tongeren says that Everyone Wants To Think They’re Open-Minded. Here’s Why Most People Aren’t. My mind is increasingly closing to the possibility of things getting better in my lifetime.

Natasha MH explores egos and gatekeepers in The Structural Shift Beneath Our Feet. I’d argue the shift is in our minds.

David Todd McCarty says that Engagement Might Be The Problem, Not The Solution. To my way of thinking, it never was the solution. Unless you were running one of the engagement platforms.

Davi Ottenheimer sees a similarity between the tech bros and plantation owners. He’s not wrong. Check out “AI Own” And The Techbro Dream of Plantation Life.

Zoe Williams tells us How To Spot A Psychopath, saying ‘It’s like the difference between a domestic cat and a wild cat.” Given that most probably haven’t encountered the latter, perhaps it’s no surprise that the real deal is often so difficult to spot.

Neil Steinberg continues to delve into his archives, this time with a piece from 2015 called Face Fear. When you look and think beneath the surface, there’s no wonder what wonders you’ll discover.

I’ve attended a number of wakes, visitations, memorials, and celebrations of life recently. “Wake” is my favorite term of art for masking grief. It just feels more appropriate to my way of thinking. Timing is everything, so Natasha MH’s piece While The Dead Was Sleeping struck a chord this week.

Speaking of those departed, this week we lost one of the good ones, Dolly Parton. Lots of things written about her extraordinary life and legacy. I particularly enjoyed this piece from Heather Cox Richardson.

It’s a dreary day and some of the links above are also are a bit dreary. So, to close on a cheerier note, Mastodon friend Ian Robinson linked to this piece called How To Talk To Comedy Writer from Andy Reilly. If you’ve ever paid attention to comedy, I bet you’ll recognize some of what you’ve seen, if not why you laughed at it.

(Image from Ronit Shaked on Unsplash)

Sunday Morning Reading

“Cowardice is stronger than common sense.”

Another Sunday with yet another stab a sharing some Sunday Morning Reading. What caught my eye this week revolved around history, featuring fiddle players, photography, and a bit of Chekov among other topics. Rosin up the bow and enjoy.

Guillaume gryn_dvs kv5v3 Yh _M unsplash. Black-and-white close-up of an older man playing a violin, wearing a light fedora with a dark band and a patterned shirt, focused with an expressive, open-mouthed expression as he draws the bow across the strings.

Kicking things off are two great pieces from Robin Ince. He jump starts the first with a well worn quote from James Baldwin:

“I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.”

I think we’ve all been gaslit a time or two in our lives. Even if you think you haven’t you should give both The Gaslight Years — Part One and To The End — Gaslighting Part Two a read. I think the fact that Baldwin wrote “hates” in the plural tells a tale.

“Agreement is cheap. Challenge is expensive.” So, says JA Westenberg in The Intellectual Circle Jerk And Why We Can’t Stop. Regardless of the hit to the pocketbook, both come with a cost.

We’ve always fought over history, even while we’re making it. Fine to fight over it, because history teaches us you can’t erase it, no matter how hard you try. Kelsey Ables takes a look at The New History Wars.

Speaking of history, Alan Palazon looks into The Forgotten Photographer Who Put A US President In The White House — And Pioneered Photographic Branding.

Harrison Smith tells the story of Violet Hensley. She Set Aside The Fiddle To Raise Children. At 99, She Made Her Opry Debut. Ms. Hensley recently passed away. Rest in peace.

I’m glad to see that Natasha MH keeps pursuing her art and her writing about it. Check out In The Canvas Grotto.

And to close, here’s a piece from 2018 that Neil Steinberg pulled out of his archives to highlight again this week. Glad he did. The title is a famous quote from Anton Chekov. Cowardice Is Stronger Than Common Sense. Maybe history does just rhyme after all.

(Image from Guillaume Gryn DVS on Unsplash)

We’re Going To Need A Bigger Woodshed

Angry thoughts.

“We’re going to need a bigger boat.” I’m reminded of that great moment and line marrying comedy and horror together in the movie Jaws, when Roy Scheider’s hero realizes he and is compatriots are up against a bigger challenge than they thought after seeing the shark up close.

Shutterstock 2567949113. A weathered, ramshackle wooden shed with a corrugated metal and tarp exterior, filled with scrap wood, planks, and discarded building materials, standing in an overgrown field surrounded by dry brush and green trees.

With so many sharks swimming around and feeding freely these day, in my own warped little mind that line twists and turns a bit, when I think of all of the punishment I’d like to see meted out whenever some semblance of sanity returns to the world, if it ever does. Along those twists and turns I imagine taking all of these villains to the woodshed my mother always threatened me that my father was going to take me to when he got home on one of the many days I misbehaved.

What’s funny about that twist is we never had a woodshed. It didn’t matter. Any room or location would do when it came time to teach me a lesson. Yup. It was a different era and that kind of lesson wasn’t frowned on like it is now. We did have an a old out building down the hill in the woods. Until I and my neighbors burned it down playing with matches. Given that my father was the chief of the volunteer fire department you can imagine how the aftermath of that unfolded.

But to the point, we’ve essentially given matches and cans of gasoline to so many prepubescents and adolescents masquerading as adults in so many sectors of our lives and are watching the smoke rise out of the trees down the hill. If not the flames licking at our foundations.

I’m starting to get the sense that even with fresh outrages flaring up each day, with no help from those who seem to know better, that too many are becoming content to let things just burn out, hoping for some sort of regrowth under the ashes.

Call me old fashioned, or just call me old. But either way, most of the damage that’s being done in our political, social, and technological lives seems to be egged on by some who might have profited from a visit to that proverbial woodshed.

Enough trips to the woodshed with enough switches used to somehow flip a switch that changed behavior for enough of us in my generation to make the unconvertible stand out as those you wouldn’t welcome into your life.

Buy, hey. Feelings.

I don’t blame kids for misbehaving badly. I do blame adults. Especially adults who let other adults act out. Frankly, I don’t see a chance for any new undergrowth happening without that bigger woodshed and a line out the door waiting to enter.

(Image by ja-aljona on Shutterstock)

Sunday Morning Reading

A moment to breathe differently

The road to our time at the family lake house is a mile long and a bumpy washboard filled with twists and turns. Arriving after shaking out a filling or two, there’s a leveling out that leads to a sort of peace, even if only for a few days. I’m not sure I leveled out fully this weekend, but the moments to breathe differently sure helped. Even if the weather only cooperated for a few hours.

Thanks to science, apparently the human origin story is being rewritten according to Ross Anderson in The Human-Origin Story Is Being Radically Revised. Probably a good thing given that today’s story tellers keep rewriting recent history. So it begs the question as to who might listen to any new version science rewrites.

Speaking of science, and also how we might define the human story and its origins, Claire L. Evans takes a look at the creation of brains in labs in AI Is Dead. Organoids Are Alive.

Whatever the twists and turns, bumps and bruises of history, science, and the stories that make up different versions of our lives, I happen to agree with Lauren Leek that everything is being flattened to feel all the same. Check out Temperature Zero For Culture: Why Everything Is Starting To Look The Same.

Given the intermittent rain storms, it was a battle to keep most of us away from our phones this weekend. Neil Steinberg suggests maybe adults need to adopt the practice of some schools in Maybe Adults Should Follow Students In Setting Down Our Phones.

Natasha MH takes a look at crippling anxiety is Sunshine After The Rain. Be the sunshine.

Dealing with anxiety can be painful. Lots of that to go around these days. David Todd McCarty examines The Upside Of Pain.

Disunion by Kurt Anderson is a terrific short story. It may be speculative fiction, but it feels all too real. I don’t know why, but reading this does not make me feel anxious or cause me pain.

With things flattening out, I believe the extreme edges are where things always matter. Robin Ince writes How I Became An Extremist.

Using quotes from throughout history, literary and otherwise, Jordan Dworkin built a fascinating webpage that tours through the ordinary things of an apartment, reminding us that the things we take for granted were once new and invented somewhere along the line and that “we remain restless in the midst of progress,” and our lives today are “a gallery of past generations’ heroic efforts to do the same.” Check out Ordinary Abundance. It’s a lovely piece and worth your time. I wish I felt the same about the things we’re trying to create today.

(Photo by the author)

Sunday Morning Reading

Where does it begin? Where does it end?

Origin stories. Crazy stuff sometimes. Living in a world when we can make up, massage, or hallucinate just about anything, it’s no wonder that origin stories captivate and often capture us in our quest for meaning. Perhaps so we can have disagreements over them. I wonder what the origin of that is all about? This week’s Sunday Morning Reading touches on origin stories as well as some of the usual topics that I find of interest and worth sharing.

A typewriter with a page inserted with the sentence "In The Beginning" Getty images c O6QssKbtI unsplash.

Ross Anderson tells us The Human-Origin Story Is Being Radically Revised. Even if we discovered that this is all a simulation, I’m sure it would be debated, monetized, summarized, and bastardized into meaninglessness somehow.

No origin story is complete without some sort of religious or spiritual interpretation. Even Artificial Intelligence isn’t immune to that human phenomenon. Hayden Field explores How AI Bots Started A Religion — Humans Immediately Followed.

Everybody makes mistakes. Neil Steinberg suggests we might be getting too comfortable with that fact and a writer’s duty is to aim higher for accuracy, while admitting our flaws in To Write Is Too Err.

On a political front, everyone seems mired in a mud fight about how the Democrats might be unable to reconcile their progressive and moderate wings. Jay Caspian King takes a look at Subaru Socialists And The Great Disappointed, trying to figure out what’s behind some of the millennial thinking these days, as well as that of the generation that followed them, which he labels “The Great Disappointed.” Life is disappointment. Living is how you deal with it.

Meanwhile, David Todd McCarty asks What Does It Mean To Be A Moderate? I don’t have the answer to that. Frankly, given that everyone is so pissed off I don’t think it matters. That said, while how we insist on defining ourselves might help talk about political life, it sure isn’t helping cure what ails us.

Apparently the one thing that all flavors of the political spectrum can agree on is that data centers are not a good thing. Except those who make the policy and accept the bribes to allow data center construction in my backyard or yours. Molly Taft looks at How Data Centers Broke American Politics. I might argue that they revealed rather than broke. Because the bagmen got too clumsy.

I’ve been following the goings on at Google for most of the summer because the goings on are going to change things. In my view, not for the better. Like Donald Trump, Google hasn’t been shy about saying it’s going to screw things up. (My words, not theirs.) This week there was a shakeup among Google’s AI hierarchy that suggests the screws on the screw up are tightening down in what seems like a rush to productize too soon. Hayden Field gets into The Messy Politics Behind Google’s Big AI Shakeup.

Every origin story is one that also reaches an end. I commented on the passing of Om Malik several Sunday’s ago. Thanks to John Gruber for linking to Om’s final blog post, something I somehow missed. It’s about so much more than the headline suggests. But that’s what Om Malik was about. So much more. Check out The Myth, The Mythos and the Man. I’ll close with this quote from his post:

The sophist is selecting, sequencing, and presenting in ways that produce belief without requiring the audience to do the work. Mythos, for Plato, was the domain of poets and myth-makers. Useful for educating the young, dangerous when deployed as a substitute for rigorous argument among adults.

(Image licensed from Getty Images for Unsplash+)

Too Many Frankensteins

There’s a reason they call it science FICTION.

Why does no one ever read the end of the story? Or if they do, why don’t they pay attention?

Ever since Mary Shelley gave us Frankenstein, laying out a moral of a story proving that just because you can, doesn’t mean you should, there seems to be a preponderance of ignorance running alongside the obvious capabilities our current day Dr. Frankensteins possess. It feels like the story is playing on an endless Youtube Short or TikTok or Reel without ever reaching the end and the story’s point. The only thing coming close to the volume of ignorance is the overdose of hubris that someone must be selling somewhere on some street corner. Or maybe it’s testosterone injections.

Whatever it is, whether in tech and AI, politics, sports, media, or fill in the blank for any field that can issue a press release and attract attention like flies to rotting flesh, it’s past the epidemic stage and has spread like a plague.

The fever stokes flames on Wall Street, which seems content to fuel them further until it all melts down. As long as they make their fees. Makes one wonder how the prediction markets on any number of popping bubbles are doing?

Between AI companies climbing over each other to fight over which model can cause more damage when they break free, companies creating horror movie-like robots to do damage control in dangerous circumstances, companies working to create AI powered glasses that will be used for mass surveillance — much less trouble making privacy violations, the tech sector seems to be outrunning the rest when it comes to the mad scientist wannabe game.

Politicians aren’t far behind, lagging only by their inability to keep up with and understand the changes happening around them as they count the cash being stuffed in their pockets. Sports teams intent on winning today don’t seem to care that they may be permanently damaging their game.

And there’s a media that doesn’t actually care who wins and who loses as long as they have access to the story of the rise and the story of the fall. Imagine if today’s media had covered Dr. Frankenstein’s efforts the way they cover Musk, Altman, Zuckerberg, or any of the others.

It’s too broad a generalization to say these stories never end well, even though many fail whether the consequences are intended or not. But in a world seemingly being driven by a bunch of geeks who profess a love for science fiction, and those who can’t help but take their money to drive their own ambitions, you’d think someone along the way would understand that they don’t get to write the end.

But that would require more than reading a summary.

The Odyssey: A Review

A good, but not great film.

Have you ever had one of those moments in life that at the time felt like a great victory, but then turned sour later on, leading to regret? I have. It’s no fun to look back on. It can hurt worse to look in the mirror.

Screenshot 2025-12-23 at 2.09.57 pm of a promotional poster for The Odyssey

Sure you can go into therapy to help you feel better about your choices and the ramifications. But first you have to face them, own them, and accept responsibility.

Or you could try to bury them in the bottle. Or drugs, illicit or otherwise. Or some other way of trying to keep them from resurfacing. Or you could just throw up your hands, blame the gods. Perhaps defy them. But in the end the choices you make define you. How you deal with the definition tells your story.

That’s essentially the story of Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey. Much the same as it was with Oppenheimer. Do a thing. Do it well. Succeed. Then realize what you’ve done has unleashed problems bigger than the one you set out to overcome.

Is The Odyssey a good film? In my opinion, yes. Bordering on being very good one. It’s not a great one. You can see Nolan’s affection for the story he’s telling and his passion for the techniques he’s using to do so in every frame. That passion for filmmaking his way is also what keeps The Odyssey from being a great film.

In general I blow hot and cold on Nolan’s work. While he can create some thrilling cinema, his attention to his process creates an almost Brechtian alienation, while still embracing the story he’s trying to tell. And make no mistake this Odyssey is Nolan’s story more than it is Homer’s. There’s nothing wrong with that. It is a movie after all, and a story to tell the way he wants too. But in most of his movies, his love for his craft and artistry is too distancing to lure me in.

As to the story, the similarities between The Odyssey and Oppenheimer are easy to see. Man uses his ingenuity to do the impossible, man ends up regretting the result. Nolan told that story better in Oppenheimer.

Both films contain big moments of spectacle alternating with more intimate scenes. I walked away from Oppenheimer less impressed with the apparent painstaking to create explosions than I was with the more intimate scenes which I found infinitely more frightening and revealing. I don’t feel the same way about The Odyssey, although the work to create the Cyclops and Circe’s turning Odysseus’ men into swine pays off very well. The intimate scenes in The Odyssey did not capture me the way I think Nolan thought they would. The spectacle largely worked well. Which brings me to Matt Damon.

I don’t think Damon was the best choice for the lead. Given the framing that Nolan chose to wrap his story in, he certainly wasn’t. Following the poem’s lead in alternating timelines, Damon seemed to be the same throughout most of the film, until his return home.

Damon’s known for his straight ahead with purpose presence on screen, plowing through any obstacle in his path, typically with a strong resolve that’s unyielding. Prior to seeing the film I thought the casting made great sense. Yet it did not in practice. I never felt Damon transition from a “something’s really bothering me about all of this” gest into a leader of confidence and cunning until the final act. He just seemed bothered.

Part of that is certainly in the writing, both Nolan’s and Homer’s, given that the story is more about looking back in the aftermath. That makes sense while he’s trying to come to grips with all he’s wrought after the sack of Troy, but not in the early stages of his adventure, which we’re treated to in flashbacks. There’s no self-accomplished, self-aggrandizing height from which he can fall. His compatriots around him acted as if they were seeing something out of the ordinary, yet we never really saw what bonded their allegiance to him in the first place.

The other aspect of The Odyssey that keeps it from being a great film is the Netflix-like don’t trust your audience to pay attention restating of Zeus’ law, which grounds Odysseus’ guilt. The point that Zeus’s golden rule (be kind to strangers and guests-you never know they may be a god in disguise) is repeated so frequently, it often feels like Nolan the screenwriter didn’t trust it as the central motivating point for his character’s actions and struggles.

On the plus side, Nolan has assembled an incredible cast of actors around Damon that we’re used to seeing carry their own films and that largely pays off. Although some seem underused. The visual and aural experience can be stunning. I particularly like the choice of orchestrations in the soundtrack. The special effects have their special moments.

Is it worth seeing? I’d say yes. I’d also say that what it offers will not be substantially different once it becomes a streaming success than it is in the theaters, especially the limited number of venues that show it in the format the director wishes.

I won’t get into the squabbles that have surrounded this film with more free publicity than you can shake a stick at. With one exception. I keep reading and hearing folks saying Nolan’s version of The Odyssey is as much about today as it is about the age the story takes place in. Of course in today’s world that means some love that and some hate that. That has more to do with Homer than it has to do with Nolan.

The reason many of certain generations are at least tangentially familiar with The Odyssey is Homer wrote a story about humankind that is as enduring as the flaws and faults we as a species share and keep repeating. It’s a mirror that exposes those flaws that we really work hard to avoid looking into. It’s a difficult story that needs telling in and of itself, and has found itself as the foundation of many different variants in other forms. Funny thing is, we never seem to learn from it, regardless of its trappings.

Sunday Morning Reading

Revelate

Still on the road for summer travels, but this week offered a few moments to do some reading when not toodling along listening to the music of Glen Hansard. So time to share a few good pieces of writing and good reads in this week’s Sunday Morning Reading.

Kick things off with a piece by Robert P. George called The Two Great Threats To Truth. He questions whether there really is a difference between moral relativism and fantacism, if in the end they yield the same result. The piece will make you think. If thinking is your thing.

Claire Stapelton rose through the ranks at Google. From reading The Voice Of Google, it sounds like she saw it all, and she’s telling quite a bit of it.

“Government Efficiency and Death by Indifference” is the subhead to Anton Shekhovtsov’s The Techno-Oligarchy’s First “Holocaust.” It’s quite a dire piece, but certainly worth your time.

Speaking of oligarchs, a trio of NY Times writers take a look at Larry Ellison and his bet on AI. Check out Jonathan Mahler, Jim Rutenberg and Kirsten Grind’s story, Larry Ellision Bet It All on the A.I. Boom. Will He Be The Face of the A.I. Bubble? At some point this bubble has to pop, right?

David Todd McCarthy says There Is A Crack In Everything. Truth and beauty lie in the imperfections, not in the perfect.

The world is certainly an imperfect place. Rachel Yoder’s short story, The Promise perfectly reveals that.

Alex Skopic flushes out some thoughts on the failed state in Diarrhea In Every Pot and A Gun In Every Mailbox. When you break things down to “shooting and shitting” you might be on to something.

There’s nothing obligatory about Jeff Johnson’s piece The Obligatory AI Post. Make it obligatory reading.

To close out this week, a sad one when we lost one of the good ones in Glen Hansard, give a read to Sophia Stewart’s tribute, The People’s Troubador. If you don’t know the music, you should.

Revelate.

(Image from Samuel Couto on Unsplash)