Weaponise Optimism

I love a good pithy meme as much as anyone. I like the snarky ones and the silly ones, and I even like some of the over-the-top-posi ones. I prefer a melancholy couplet over a motivational poster, but sometimes it's nice to see something encouraging. Earnest. Sometimes, though, I see things and I stare at them and I try to parse their meaning and all I can think is, 'The fuck did they think they were saying cos I think they missed the mark.'*

And then I saw this one and I had to say something because it wasn't just asinine - it was demeaning and harmful. (I am being a little melodramatic, but honestly less than I would like to admit.)

The strongest people make time to help others, even if they are struggling with their own problems.

Wow, is this a load of bullshit. I am so fucking sick of seeing this kind of sentiment floating around because it pretty much can only incite shame in the people who read it and really take it to heart. They're going to think of every time someone made time for them, and every time they didn't make time for someone else because they were burnt out and needed to rest, and they're going to feel like shit and they're going to feel weak. Why would anyone want to promote a message that will make people feel ashamed and weak? Outside of propaganda, I can't think of a good reason other than sadism. Or really, if it's truly honestly obliviousness? Please start paying attention. Language is changing, but what we do with it is important. Because it affects us profoundly in ways we don't entirely understand.

What this also does is reinforce the terrible behaviours that our shitty capitalist hellscape is forcing us to adopt, where we feel we must give and give and give even when we run dry, because that's what "strength" is. How exactly the fuck is it strength to keep giving past your limit? Fuck that. If someone needs to take a fucking break, and they can't hold space for me when I ask, GOOD. That's a good thing because it means they are setting a boundary, and they are trusting me to respect that boundary. That is the best one-two combo ever in a relationship: self-respect and trust. I would rather someone say no, than to help me to their own detriment. I like it when people set boundaries to work on getting their own shit together.

This isn't to say I think that we should only be looking out for number one. I don't. But having a community of people who respect themselves and one another, who know how to communicate their needs and who allow themselves to be vulnerable enough to ask for what they want and need, means that people will have time to heal and rest so they can keep helping others and (themselves) heal.

This sentiment makes me think of how my father explained "altruism" to me. He said this came from Ayn Rand, and that was pretty gross to hear, but the explanation is still relevant and interesting. If a parent goes hungry to feed their own children, that is not altruism, because the parent benefits from the action, if somewhat obliquely, because they have a vested interest in their children's survival. But if a parent let their own children go hungry to feed a neighbour's family, THAT would be an altruistic act. The parent is doing good, and not just to their detriment. They are doing it to the detriment of their own children. They get no benefit whatsoever by helping their neighbour, because it means they and their own children will go hungry. The parent would feel guilt, but they would do what they believe to be the right thing, even if they're hated for it.

We don't need to promote self-directed harm just to help others. Because it eventually will lead to a massive dearth of us altogether. One can run on empty for only so long before it kills them.

This weird positivity culture thing is getting to me. I don't think we should give up and I absolutely support looking for the good. But what I'm interested in, what I want to see in the world, is a place where we don't have to choose between self care and caring for others. Because we'll actually have the time and means to recover. It sounds like straight up fantasy, but that's only because it's not something I can have in this lifetime. The road is too long, and I'm quite finite. But I can do my part, even if it is small, to help us keep moving in the right direction, not let us give up hope, even if we move such a short distance it doesn't feel like we moved at all. We are making so much progess it's amazing. The conversations and language are changing faster than ever because we are talking more. That means there is hope.

I don't want hope to be some platonic ideal that is treated like a cure-all salve that relieves us of responsibiity. I want us to know how much our ideals cost us. I want us to feel the parts that aren't pretty, that make us hurt, that bind us together, that motivate us to get through this shit. Because those will be our legends, the stories our children's children's children's will tell of our struggle and of our victories, however small they may feel in the moment.

Armageddon is averted through small actions.**

I want to weaponise optimism.



*actually I was just thinking 'whaaaa?'
**Neil Gaiman, "Only the End of the World Again"

Just ... don't, okay?

A furor of indignation and outrage has swept the internet because a remake of The Princess Bride was introduced as a possibly viable idea. The internet went mad, in a truly impressive display of solidarity among lots of disparate and oppositional factions, we all rejected the idea. And the existence of social media means not only can we all talk about it across the globe and foment large-scale public opinion that this is a Bad Idea, but that we have instant access to the opinions of the persons who made the film the first time around. Cary Elwes' response was delightfully eloquent and on-brand: "There's a shortage of perfect movies in the world. It would be a pity to damage this one."*

I have a long and passionate relationship with this film, as do many persons who are crying foul at this idea. I am far from unique in that I know the script and can recite it off the top of my head. But it's more than that for me. So much more. I have owned so many different versions of this film -- every time a new Special Edition came out, I added it to my collection, because each new edition usually had at least one new special feature documentary or commentary track or something. My absolute favourite special feature of the many I have consumed was the Writers Commentary. William Goldman talking about making the film is a gift without price.

One of the nice things about this fan outrage has been the opportunity to drop massive amounts of trivia on unsuspecting audiences, and inso doing, making them love the film *even* *more* than they already did. I love telling people about the connexion between The Princess Bride and This is Spinal Tap. I like telling them about why there are certain significant differences between the film and the book. I like telling them about all the little things I've picked up over the years, that just add to the depth and texture of my love affair with this story.

I have a few arguments against the idea of a remake that have a lot less to do with my own relationship with the film (because I can choose not to see a remake), because it's not that I have concerns I'd be disappointed (I know I would be), but rather that I think if William Goldman were still alive, he'd not condone such a project.

The Princess Bride (book) was published in 1973. It was another 14 years before the film was made. Had he wanted to turn it into a film immediately, it was entirely within reach for Goldman. He was an established and respected writer in Hollywood. He had the right connexions. He just didn't have the inclination to do so right away. This was because the book was William Goldman's favourite book he had written. It was his baby, and he wanted to make sure that when the film got made, it was going to be done according to HIS artistic vision. From the point it was published to Goldman allowing Rob Reiner to make the film, Goldman was approached time and again by people wanting to make the film, and he kept saying "no" because he was looking for "The One" and Rob Reiner was it. (That's where Spinal Tap comes into the story -- Goldman said after seeing This is Spinal Tap, he knew Reiner was the right man for the job.)

Goldman wrote the script himself, and this was not the usual vanity project of a novelist who is afraid of Hollywood getting its grubby hands all over it (though he didn't want that, either). Goldman was The Screenplay Doctor in Hollywood through his career. Other screenwriters would go to him for assitance with their own scripts, and by 1984 (the year Spinal Tap came out), he'd won two Academy Awards for screenwriting. One for Best Original Screenplay (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid) and one for Best Adapted Screenplay (All the President's Men). He knew what he was doing, what was possible, and what was negotiable. All the changes in plot were THE WRITER'S OWN IDEAS AND CHOICES rather than changes forced upon him by producers or the director.

Goldman had enormous artistic control in this endeavour, not because he was the writer, but because Rob Reiner respected Goldman as a writer, and he understood just how important the book and film were to Goldman. It was very important to Reiner that Goldman be pleased with the final project.

(He succeeded.)

Boiled down to its most basic essence, the reason this proposed remake upsets me more than, say, all the Disney movies we've seen come out recently is because I don't look at the film as merely entertainment. It's much more a piece of Art to me than Entertainment. And the lens of 'Art' vs 'Entertainment' makes it so much more important that the work stand as a unique finished piece that was as close to perfect as was possible for the artist to get to expressing his art. A remake feels like a capitalist money-grab, rather than a true artistic reinterpretation of a work of art.

*(@cary_elwes, 17 Sept 2019)