Back to the Movies

A funny thing happened when COVID encouraged us to be at home through most of 2020. I didn’t watch many movies at home and saw none in a theater after last year’s True/False Film Festival. The latter is probably no great surprise--did going to the movies seem like a desirable or smart thing to do?--but the former would be deemed unusual based on my previous viewing patterns. And then a funny thing happened after I got the second dose of the vaccination in April 2021. I was in no rush to go back to the movies. 

Before the pandemic uprooted some of my habits and routines, I could be counted on to go to the movies a lot. Seeing three or four films per week in theaters was fairly common, especially with an AMC A-List membership that tempted me to get the most bang for my buck. My attendance suffered mildly when I started a new job in late 2019, primarily because I had less time and energy, but even if I were “only” seeing one or two a week, such a pace would surely put me among the top percentiles of moviegoers. At the start of a largely homebound life last year I just wasn’t in the mood to watch movies and may not have had a suitable attention span for much of that time.

So why wasn’t I eager to go back to movie theaters once it was seemingly “safe” for me to do so? Fundamentally I still felt (and continue to feel) that I’d prefer to be cautious. I wanted to see Christian Petzold’s Undine, but I checked the seating chart for the one small auditorium where it was playing in town and decided that I wasn’t enthused to see it in such close quarters, especially when I could rent an HD stream for less than the price of a ticket. I don’t think my hesitancy can be chalked up purely to guarding my health, though. I just didn’t feel like I had to go.

I pushed myself to return and saw In the Heights in mid-June, nearly two months after I was vaccinated. Still, I purchased my ticket with a plan, choosing to see it in what I thought was (and previously had been) a Dolby Cinema theater--meaning it was about as big of a room as exists in Columbus--and at an off-peak time with as few people as possible present. Success! Only one other person shared the theater with me. I wore a mask throughout and expected to have the experience remind me of why I have been such a dedicated theatrical viewer. But that didn’t happen. Maybe it was the film, which I thought was fine but didn’t wow me, or maybe it was the uneasiness of being out in public like this for an extended time, even though I nearly had the screening to myself. 

The next two weeks I ventured out to see The Sparks Brothers and A Quiet Place Part II. Edgar Wright’s rock doc unspooled, or whatever the equivalent term is for a digitally projected file, before me alone. To my chagrin there were maybe seven or so people at A Quiet Place Part II but I could deal with that. Neither the films nor the experiences renewed my previously voracious appetite for going to the movies.

AMC paused all A-List memberships when the pandemic hit, but as talk of things returning to normal picked up (even if they really haven’t), they resumed billing in July. If I am going to pay for it, I am going to use it, although making three per the weekly maximum allowed might be pushing it. Nevertheless, I took in ten features for the month, which surprises me in retrospect. Raya and the Last Dragon and Escape Room: Tournament of Champions were effectively private screenings. Zola nearly was, as only one other person bought a ticket when I saw it. Summer of Soul (...Or When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised), Black Widow, and Space Jam: A New Legacy were pretty sparsely attended and also played in a massive auditorium. F9: The Fast Saga, Pig, and The Forever Purge were in smaller rooms but not packed at all. The most I pressed my luck was an opening weekend Saturday night screening of Old, but the crowd was at most half the size of what it would have been the previous evening. I suppose my curiosity, coupled with not wanting everything to be revealed on Twitter before I got to it, got the best of me that night.

So far in August I’ve viewed The Green Knight, Jungle Cruise, Annette, The Suicide Squad, Nine Days, and Cruella. While the quantity of films I’m seeing might seem like I’m more or less back to normal, I can’t say that it feels like I am. The films I’ve liked I can judge as being fine, and those I’ve not liked have ranged from so-so to somewhat irritating. Whether good or not, they haven’t been particularly sustaining, just pleasant (or not) diversions. It’s been nice to get out of my apartment and do something, but that’s not exactly a ringing endorsement. 

The closest anything has come to eliciting that blown-away reaction is Leos Carax’s weird, art-damaged musical Annette. Unlike most of the other films I’ve seen in theaters in the last two months, a strong artistic vision is stamped all over it. Even though it can be pretty aggressive in trying to alienate the audience, at least in some stretches, Annette feels vital in a way that a lot of the studio products don’t, even the good films. (Now seems like the time to chime in to say I’m not a fan of Zola, which annoyed me and may be a type of provocation where I tend to break from critical consensus. The Green Knight has a lot going for it, but I’d feel more enthusiastic about it if I had read a primer or the epic poem it’s based on before seeing it. I know Pig has its strong supporters, and while I liked it, I wasn’t dazzled.) 

So again, is it the movies, or is it me? I suspect it’s both. Many of the franchise films (or films in the franchise mold) feel made-by-committee, just this year’s model, sometimes with quirkiness added to give the patina of individual spirit in the work or the auteur smuggling in something more personal to the corporate widget. I had a good enough time with the family adventure film Jungle Cruise, but the climax has zero emotional credibility. How fitting that it is based on a ride because it was satisfying enough for the time being and hasn’t occupied my mind since it concluded. I  thought The Suicide Squad was put together reasonably well, but while I wasn’t bored with it, I never engaged with it either. In comparison, Old, which I would not describe as great or rank among M. Night Shyamalan’s best, takes some big swings. Although the end result doesn’t fulfill all of Shyamalan’s ambitions, I prefer seeing something that feels like it is its own thing, not just another waystation from one film to the next.

I expect I’ve changed too. How could I not with everything in the last year and half? I’ve developed new interests and revisited older ones for which time wasn’t available with all those trips to the movie theater. I probably was seeing more than was advisable, so if I’m no longer omnivorous (or as close as is realistically possible) when it comes to new releases, that’s not a bad thing. Fifteen months without going to the movies demonstrated that something I previously did multiple times a week wasn’t as missed as I might have once thought. (To reiterate, though, I saw ten films in theaters in July. This hardly qualifies as abstention.) And to be fair, these are still strange times to be in. I haven’t worked in an office since March 2020 and, per current expectations, won’t return to one until October. That’s probably going to be feel different as well. 

This is all really just some throat-clearing--or what people think of as blogging in general, right?--than the wind-up to some big announcement at the end. I have found rewarding viewing this year, like the online Elia Suleiman retrospective and working my way through all of Hayao Miyazaki’s films via Blu-ray, and I’m sure there is more to be done with a mental list of films I want to watch. I look forward to being able to return to film festivals. I hope more films I see in the theater will impress me to a greater degree than what I have been seeing. The Filmbound podcast is not kaput. I’ve just been stuck in not having the motivation to edit the recorded episodes in the can, which will then allow for making new ones. But for now things are how they are, and the perspective gained in getting here isn’t such a bad thing to acquire.

Social Distancing Journal: Wrapping 2020

2020 has reached its end--and none too quickly, as common sentiment might snarkily interject with a hard nudge to the ribs--but if I’m being honest, it was a good year for me personally. Sure, there have been hard times, particularly that point in March when everything was upended and kicked off what has been the homebound status quo for the remainder of the year. The fear and uncertainty I felt then isn’t something I hope to repeat. The stress of the Presidential election and the collective tension in the country, whether that was justifiable anger over civil injustices or the ridiculous resistance to mask-wearing (as if doing so is an affront to individual liberty), wore on me. Overall, though, I feel like I came through 2020 in a better place. For the first time in nearly three years I have regained professional stability, or at least as much as I can presume to have when continuous employment rests with the will of those above me in the organizational hierarchy, and can enjoy the benefits of a “permanent” job. I’ve made new friends who have provided invaluable support through the pandemic. I’ve found new interests that expand my learning. I don’t think there’s any question that I’m happier than I’ve been in quite some time.

I suppose I feel somewhat apologetic for feeling this way, as if it’s indecent to find joy during what is a difficult time for many. Of course, this is a silly way of looking at things, but having been through a lengthy patch when each day brought worries for not knowing what was ahead, I acknowledge that I wasn’t in the mood to hear someone else be appreciative about the positive things they were experiencing. So consider this my disclaimer for recognizing that my lived reality in 2020 is mine alone. I worked hard. I caught some breaks. I got to know some people who have made my life better. The balance of the last twelve months tipped in a positive direction for me, even as I’ve been mostly isolated in my apartment. If there’s hope for others to find in my 2020, perhaps it is that I didn’t see it coming. The lesson for me is that although I will be blindsided by bad news, I can also be caught unsuspecting by blessings too, at least if I’m open to seeing them.

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When I started the weekly social distancing entries, I hoped to keep up with them. Then I intended to catch up. And then I was going to summarize up to a certain point, consider them current, and pick up again. Clearly that didn’t happen. I have some partial drafts that maybe I’ll get around to finishing. The more likely outcome is either that I’ll pull out what still seems relevant and tack that up in a backdated post or just leave them alone unseen by anyone but me. Nevertheless, I do feel compelled to put some kind of cap on 2020.

I had in my head that I would make a list of my top things of 2020, something like my friend Donna would do each year when she was regularly blogging. I started out attempting that, but frankly it just seemed like too much work to rack my brain for everything that might flesh out a long, respectable list. But why let the perfect be the enemy of the good or, as far as I’m concerned in this case, the adequate? I could really pour the time into refining this so it somewhat resembles whatever fuzzy, platonic ideal I hold in my brain, but maybe I’m better off just getting this done and having something to show for it.

So what follows are things that helped make 2020 a good year for me. Suffice it to say that things that would be commonly considered as givens--family, health, etc.--don’t need to be stated on something like this. This alphabetical list is for the meaningful and the frivolous. I’ve included these things if I valued them in some way (and remembered). All right, enough table-setting...

-AirPods Pro

I bought these with the intention of renewing a commitment to exercise and making it easier to listen to music or podcasts while doing so. The exercise aspirations mostly fell flat--using shared gym equipment didn’t seem like such a great idea--but this purchase turned out to pay off as a vital tool for video meetings for work and not having the cord in the way when going for walks or doing things around my place.

-Animal Crossing: New Horizons and the Nintendo Switch

This list isn’t just going to be a rundown of consumer acquisitions, but this game and console provided needed relaxation when my stress levels were at or near their highest in the spring. I’m sure my Animal Crossing residents are not pleased that recent months have featured my negligence in maintaining the island. They’ll just have to deal with it. There are only so many hours in the day and way too many things I want to do. I certainly sunk a lot of hours into hanging out in this virtual space when there were fewer demands on my free time. Even as my time with Animal Crossing has dropped off, I’ve continued to use the Switch to play something about every day, even if it’s for shorter sessions. Lately I’ve been hooked on Super Mario Bros. 35 since signing up for Nintendo Switch Online to distract me on Election Day.

-Baking

I baked a lot in 2020 and mostly for others rather than myself. I can probably thank the unnecessary but useful cookie dough scoop for bringing more consistency to every batch I put in the oven. Chewy molasses cookies and intense chocolate brownies were big hits, although I did whip up other baked goods as the year went along. I know I felt better making something for friends, dropping it in the mail, and anticipating them receiving it. Who knows how much I might be able to keep this up outside of a pandemic, but I’d like to continue putting these care packages together as it was a nice way to stay connected.

-Christmas lights

I bought a dwarf Alberta spruce to make my place more festive for the holidays, so of course I needed some lights for the tree. Either I wasn’t paying attention to the length of the first string of LED lights I purchased or I badly miscalculated what the tree could hold. I ended up finding something just right, but I couldn’t let that first string go to waste. I draped them around and over the sliding door to my patio. I won’t be winning any interior design awards for how I decorated, but having the colorful lights shining through the day and night pleases me. I think I’ll keep them in place for awhile. They emit more light than I would have expected, so if I’m watching a movie, it’s been enjoyable to turn off the regular lights and leave those on. In its own way, it can make my place feel a little more like a movie theater.

-Dayton Flyers men’s basketball

To my dismay, the pandemic killed the opportunity to see what kind of historic run my favorite college team might put together in the NCAA Tournament, but I still had so much fun watching the best squad I’ve ever seen play for the university. I knew the 2019-2020 team had something special, so I’m glad I was able to get to a few big games and enjoy the others on television. Unless you root for the dominant teams that win championships on a regular basis, being a sports fan means absorbing a lot of losing. While it hurt for the chance to see the Flyers try to do the unthinkable as a mid-major program get yanked away, the 31 games they played in the 2019-2020 were a blast.

-Emeritus status

Receiving emeritus status at my former place of employment had been in the works for some time, but it was still gratifying for this recognition to come through. While I’m unclear exactly what comes with it, hopefully the honor will be useful to have on my resumé. I think emeritus status is mostly given to those retiring from the university, so I’ve received it at a far younger age than when it is usually bestowed. Nevertheless, as a signal that the departure was on good terms (even if, you know, I would prefer not to have been unemployed) and acknowledgement of my contributions, it has value.

-Fulltime employment

Wait, I thought I wasn’t going to include givens, right? Considering the time it took to secure this, I wouldn’t characterize it as a given. I found out I was losing my longtime job in October 2017, and it ended in May 2018. I started a job as a contractor in October 2019 and was hired on as a fulltime employee with benefits at the end of September 2020. At the start of work-from-home, I definitely worried if enough work would remain to hang on as a contractor. As the volume of work exploded, it became clear that we wouldn’t run out of things to do, although I still had concerns about meeting performance standards with a demanding workload. To wrap up the last quarter of the year with regained stability has been a massive relief.

-Gardening

File under activities I would not have expected to take up. This never would have happened if I weren’t home nearly all the time for the majority of 2020. There I was, though, planting flowers and figuring out how to keep them alive. (Let it be known that I was not always successful.) I expanded to getting a few indoor plants and attempted to grow some herbs and vegetables in pots. The indoor plants have mostly done OK--RIP my first dragon tree, though--while what I tried to grow from seeds produced false positive sprouts from the soil. I have neither the space nor the knowledge to go bigger next year, but as the annuals in my garden have withered and the perennials suffered from damage inflicted by roofers and, I suspect, squirrels digging around them, I’m ready to refresh that little patch again.

-Grandad’s Pizza

While I have preferred spots to get pizza, I will keep an eye out for others to add to the rotation. Food from this place was ordered and delivered to the office when that was still a thing, and I eventually found that one location is relatively nearby that driving to pick it up is convenient. 

-Knitting

I revived my knitting hobby to make some items for friends, whether just because or in a trade for a painting. As with baking, I feel good being able to produce something that I can give away, and the activity itself helps to reduce anxiety. I also think I understand how to do it better or to read the knitting. With one scarf I saw a mistake and, to my vexation, knew that I probably ought to rip out several rows to fix it. Taking an in-progress project off the needle, undoing a bunch of work, and then getting the stitches back onto a needle correctly had me like an action movie star attempting the delicate work of defusing a bomb. But I succeeded! Not that I want to do that sort of thing with any regularity, but repairing the knitting provided a confidence boost. 

-Mardi Gras Homemade Ice Cream

This area has a couple heavy hitters when it comes to ice cream, but this local, independent shop is my preferred spot. (It  is currently closed for the season.) Their international flavors are a big differentiator, and I found myself gravitating to and working my way through them during the summer and fall.

-New friends

New friends echo through a lot of these list items and for good reason. While this isn’t a ranked list, they would come in at a clear #1. They offer help and support at work, and the best of these new friends also check in with me and stay in touch outside of work. Such friendship is always valuable, but for this unusual year in particular, these connections have been really meaningful and provide some normalcy and continuity to daily life. They’ve made me feel lucky, inspired, and deeply grateful. 2020 could have been a difficult year being as isolated as I’ve been, but my new friends did a lot so that I will think of this time with fondness for all they’ve done for me. 

-Painting

As with gardening, this is not something I would have predicted I would start doing, but a friend suggested participating with this group. I’m certainly no master, nor do I expect to ever reach that level, but I’ve enjoyed doing something creative that always seemed beyond my capability.

-True/False Film Fest

As shocking as it might sound based on how often I typically go to the movies, I didn’t miss movie theaters despite not being in a public space to see a film after attending this festival in Columbia, Missouri in early March. For that matter, I didn’t watch many movies after this. Maybe it’s because I prematurely ended my theatrical moviegoing in 2020 with a really fun time taking in a well-curated selection over four days. The event happened on the edge of everything changing in public life in 2020, so while there were signs of what was on the horizon, they weren’t fully understood. Hand sanitizer was plentiful at venues while attendance was noticeably lower. I was just glad to have a few days to catch my breath away from work after putting in an intense stretch heavy on overtime and little time off. It remains a good memory that has sustained me through a time when I’ve been less immersed in films.

-UGG men’s ascot slippers

Working from home definitely means dressing for comfort. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have shelled out as much for a pair of slippers, but these met the specifications of what I was looking for. Plus, I figured they would get a lot of use. No regrets.

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For the better part of the year I worked a lot of overtime. I also didn’t have a desire to watch a lot and don’t think I had the focus to read. I did have more time for listening to music, although weirdly the amount of that I did diminished later in the year. Who knows why? 

Books

If memory serves, I only finished three books in 2020, so I guess if I’m to name one, Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI (David Grann, 2017) would be it. I enjoyed re-reading Agatha Christie’s 1939 mystery And Then There Were None, which I think I last read when I was in junior high. I didn’t care for I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness (Austin Channing Brown, 2018), a memoir that struck me as axe-grinding more than anything. I’m still working on Isaac’s Storm: A Man, A Time, and the Deadliest Hurricane in History (Erik Larson, 1999).

Film

Ordinarily I’d have a couple hundred new films to sift through to come up with a best of the year list. That is definitely not the case for 2020. While I will still try to cobble together a list for critics group voting and podcast purposes, as of this moment such a list doesn’t exist. What I’m enumerating is at best a rough draft and is loaded up with documentaries seen at True/False.

Boys State (Amanda McBaine and Jesse Moss, 2020)

City So Real (Steve James, 2020) (festival version)

Collective (Colectiv) (Alexander Nanau, 2019)

Dick Johnson is Dead (Kirsten Johnson, 2020)

Emma. (Autumn de Wilde, 2020)

Mayor (David Osit, 2020)

Soul (Pete Docter and Kemp Powers, 2020)

Tesla (Michael Almereyda, 2020)

The Vast of Night (Andrew Patterson, 2019)

Two older films new-to-me that stood out:

Phantom of the Paradise (Brian De Palma, 1974)

Police Story (Ging chaat goo si) (Jackie Chan and Chen Chi-Hwa, 1985)

And one I’d seen before but really enjoyed revisiting:

Chungking Express (Chung Hing sam lam) (Wong Kar-Wai, 1994)

Music

I usually listened to podcasts when going on walks or driving somewhere while music dominated when I listened to anything while working or doing other things. Nearly half this list is dance pop released in 2020. The genre isn’t something that makes up the bulk of my collection, although its appeal has grown on me in recent years. If I were to guess, the big sounds, upbeat tempos, and overall catchiness created the kind of escapist atmosphere I wanted in a year where the physical space I occupied was small. Sorry Radiohead, love your albums, but bleak, futuristic despair wasn’t really what I was in the mood for in music in 2020. I’ll take a closer listen to Taylor Swift’s quarantine albums eventually, but autumnal, introspective music wasn’t really on the menu either. (Ignore what I just said when seeing that Fleet Foxes album listed, though. It is a balm.)

The Scottish indie pop/rock band Belle and Sebastian ranks among my favorites, yet I don’t know that I’d given their seventh studio album, Write About Love, or their three-EP compilation How To Solve Our Human Problems as many listens as their earlier work when they were shrouded in mystery and existed more of a word-of-mouth phenomenon. Maybe I latched onto these two albums because they are more buoyant. As with any band that manages to last--Tigermilk came out in 1996--consistency over time means later work gets taken for granted, so it’s been nice to grow more familiar with Write About Love, a stronger album than I recall it being, and HTSOHP, a listening casualty of the more recent phenomenon of new music having mayfly life spans in the cultural discourse.

David Bowie’s Scary Monsters may be here by virtue of being at the top of my Recently Added from the last time I could get music from iTunes on my computer transferred to my phone. Regardless, I found it highly relistenable. Billy Joel has been a longtime favorite, which probably comes with the territory when you start playing piano in second grade like I did. He’s not someone I’ve listened to a lot in recent years, but it was comforting to return to his music and its pop sensibilities rooted in early rock ‘n’ roll. I don’t recall Turnstiles ranking among my favorites or being as heralded--it isn’t as loaded with radio-dominated hits--so it was a pleasure to rediscover. Sloan’s discography is remarkably consistent, but I kept returning to Navy Blues perhaps because I saw them play it in full for their first set at the A&R Music Bar in early March and because it may have their strongest single collection of songs.

Annie Dark Hearts (2020)

David Bowie Scary Monsters (1980)

Belle and Sebastian How to Solve Our Human Problems (2018) and Write About Love (2010)

Dua Lipa Future Nostalgia (2020)

Fleet Foxes Shore (2020)

Carly Rae Jepsen Dedicated Side B (2020)

Billy Joel Turnstiles (1976)

Kylie MInogue DISCO (2020)

Sloan Navy Blues (1998)

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I know 2020 will have a negative connotation for many, but hopefully this explains in some small but long-winded way why it won’t for me and what helped me get through it. May 2021 improve those things that didn’t go well as well as enhancing and expanding the joys from the previous year.

Social Distancing Journal: Week 9 (May 11-May 17, 2020)

Painting No. 4 - 5/13/20-5/15/20 - Mark Pfeiffer

The painting challenge this week was to make something that represents your culture. But what if you don’t really think of one having a culture? Sure, I’m aware of the heritage of ancestors who immigrated to the United States (whenever that was), but that’s never been something that had any particular importance in my family. At best it’s been a “fun fact” rather than a part of identity. I have two guesses as to why this is. First, while I’m uncertain when my great-grandparents came to this country, I’m going to estimate this happened somewhere between 1900-1915, which strikes me as a time when there would have been more social pressure to integrate and lose one’s heritage. Second, I imagine a German heritage was something one didn’t want to play up around World War I, so that, whether on its own or combined with the other factor, seems like a reasonable conclusion.

I’ve known my father’s side of the family better because we lived close to them, so I painted the farm where my paternal grandmother was raised and where three of her siblings lived (and where one of them still resides) for their entire lives. My dad and his mom ran the grain elevator, the family business that his dad built as physical structures and as a company, so farming and agriculture-related things are a significant part of my background. I worked at the grain elevator after school in junior high and high school. We didn’t live on a farm, although a corn field bordered our backyard. I’ve lived more time away from this area than I did in it, but as this was what I grew up around and what probably informs more of who I am than I might realize, it seemed fitting to depict this part of me.

"The farm" - 8/1/15 - Photo by Mark Pfeiffer

Before starting the painting I knew that I wanted to use a photo as a reference. The only one I could find was not taken from an ideal angle, but you use what you have. I also wanted to figure out how I could get something house-like on the canvas rather than slopping paint onto it and attempting to correct for all the mistakes. I know I placed the house too high vertically and didn’t leave much room for other buildings on the same plane. I added a cornfield, which is on the property but not in relation to the way I’ve painted it, because I thought there was too much empty space at the bottom.

Does it work? Well enough, I think, considering my lack of training. Unprompted, my mom asked if this was the farm I was attempting to paint, so I must have done something right for it to seem familiar. My friends in the painting group were supportive and complimentary, which is really what the group is about, and made me feel better about the finished result than I did in the immediate aftermath of completing it.

One thing I was reminded of from blindly jumping into painting is that making art, even works with competent-at-best or (in kinder terms) less technically accomplished results, is challenging. My fourth painting may not look like I put a lot of effort into it, but this wasn’t something haphazardly created. I fussed over how the grass looked for much longer than you would assume. (Never mind that I proceeded to cover a lot of it.)
Of course I already knew plenty of time and energy go into creative efforts even if they may widely be viewed as unsuccessful. After all, a bad film still requires a lot of work to bring it to life. I’m not suggesting the attention and care put into making something renders criticisms irrelevant. Rather, the lesson for me is that the struggle to get that ideal version out of one’s head and into a consumable form is where masterful artistry is found. I can envision a better version of what I produced. Right now I’m not equipped to transfer my vision into a painting others can see as I fully intend. Maybe I will never reach that point. For me painting is primarily a process-driven endeavor. I would like for the finished pieces to be assessed as good--who creates something and desires otherwise?--but for me the fun comes in making them and, more often than not, being able to appreciate the good qualities despite aspects that didn’t turn out as I hoped.

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Painting is supposed to be a relaxing activity, so that calls for chilled out music. Air’s Talkie Walkie and Pocket Symphony proved to be the right soundtrack, even as a French duo’s electronica is quite unlike the subject I was working on. It does occur to me, though, as I write this that Air has collaborated multiple times with Sofia Coppola, whose films often study characters in isolation. My situation isn’t dire or tragic like they can be for characters in her movies, but I am amused by the synchronicity that could be read into listening to music with those associations at a time of social distancing. (As an aside, the live version of “Cherry Blossom Girl” embedded above really misses the flute on the album, but if you’re unfamiliar with the band, this is representative of what they sound like.)

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Intense chocolate brownies - Photo by Mark Pfeiffer

Intense chocolate brownies were the big baking undertaking this week. Come to think of it, this might be the first time I’ve made brownies from scratch. Box mixes were a staple growing up, and when I’ve made them since then, that’s what I’ve used. This does take more effort, especially with chopping the chocolate and melting it per the recipe, but I can safely say they’re the best brownies I’ve ever made. 

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At the tail end of this week I managed to squeeze in one film in preparation for podcast recording. The Half of It slots very comfortably among Netflix’s original content aimed at young adults. I don’t say that to be particularly critical. This version of Cyrano de Bergerac, which turns the tale into a high school movie with an LGBT twist, has a big heart, can be wise about the loneliness and longing many feel, and develops a sweet friendship between the letter writer for-hire and the second string football player paying her to give a more eloquent voice to his feelings. The film also makes some missteps, especially later on, but I’ll leave those comments for the upcoming episode.

Anyway, going by an admittedly small sample size in my viewing, The Half of It’s Netflix-y essence comes in being more thoughtful and contemplative about teenagers’ insecurities and fears while also having an Instagram sheen and, I hypothesize, a subdued directorial voice. (I mean no offense to writer-director Alice Wu, whose only other feature film I saw fifteen years ago and have essentially no memory of. I’ll reiterate. I liked The Half of It.) Like other Netflix originals that aren’t prestige titles, the film has a prefab quality that doesn’t diminish it as a narrative delivery vehicle but also doesn’t distinguish it. The industry has a history of cranking out product, so this isn’t anything new. In general, these films tend to be good enough. It’s just funny that one of The Half of It characters mentions that what separates great paintings from the rest is five bold strokes, which is exactly what many of these Netflix films lack.

Previous Social Distancing Journal Entries:

Pre-Social Distancing

Week 1 (March 16-22, 2020)

Week 2 (March 23-29, 2020)

Week 3 (March 30-April 5, 2020)

Week 4 (April 6-12, 2020)

Week 5 (April 13-19, 2020)

Week 6 (April 20-26, 2020)

Week 7 (April 27-May 3, 2020)

Week 8 (May 4-10, 2020)

Social Distancing Journal: Week 6 (April 20-April 26, 2020)

If I didn’t make a morbid but sarcastic joke in a previous entry about this journal functioning as proof of life, it was one I considered making. If I did, I suppose that failing to keep up with posting entries in a timely manner for weeks six and seven might not be the greatest thing to do. I don’t think anyone who might read this believed I succumbed or anything, but I recognize that if I’m going to commit to weekly documentation of my thoughts, activities, and media consumption, I need to try to be consistent. My reason for not writing new entries in a timely manner is not an exceptional one. Simply put, free time has been at a premium, and if I haven’t been able to fit this in on my off days, time and will have been in short supply. 

In an ironic twist a la The Twilight Zone, I have gone from being a high capacity viewer of films, television shows, and sports in normal times to someone who has reduced consumption of those things by a massive amount while being home nearly 24/7. Obviously I’m watching fewer sports--OK, zero sports--because games aren’t being played, but I wasn’t starving for the NFL draft and haven’t been turning to airings of classic competitions. Movie theaters aren’t open, so that rules out one place to see them. Still, I have more than enough films on hand, whether with physical media or streaming options, that access is not an issue. I have squeezed in some TV shows a little more regularly, in part because they are less of a time commitment.

I haven’t lost interest in movies or sports. Maybe what’s missing is the urgency. Without a slate of new releases that will leave theaters before long, there’s no rush to watch anything in particular. Without scheduled games, why bother getting agitated that they aren’t there? Am I living more in the moment? I think there’s some truth to that, even if it isn’t the whole story.

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Molasses cookies - Photo by Mark Pfeiffer

If my television is getting a break, then what am I doing to pass the small window of free time I have? Cooking--baking in particular--has been a good way of stepping away from a glowing screen and being present in the task at hand. This week I made molasses cookies. 

Week six of social distancing also marks when precious spare hours start to be devoured by the Nintendo Switch. The preorder bundle I managed to snag arrived, and I can tell you that video games have been an enjoyable way of unwinding after some particularly long work days. I began with The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild and was amazed at the vastness of the digital world the game creates. I also had to log some time behind the wheel for Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, which was also the only Switch game I’d played before buying one. Then Animal Crossing: New Horizons was delivered two days after the console. 

I wasn’t really sure what the seemingly hottest game of this social distancing time was, but I knew friends were enthusiastic about it. I don’t know if I can explain it all that well other than to say you help build up and tend to your own island, but I can certainly see how this game can fuel obsessive playing. This week I didn’t get all that far in developing my island, but the laid-back nature of it underlined with the need to perform tasks to unlock more modifications provide fiendishly clever motivations to keep hanging out in this world to discover more and tailor it to one’s liking. 

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Here’s where the media log information would go, but as I’ve already said that my viewing has fallen off a cliff, I don’t have anything to talk about in that area. I watched zero movies this week. I can’t recall the last time a week passed with that occurring. Nothing I listened to jumps out at me to document here. Truthfully, without having written it down, I also don’t remember what might have stood out. This was not the most exciting week to talk about, but as I’m writing this in week eight, I can say that week seven gives me more to write about.

Previous Social Distancing Journal Entries:
Pre-Social Distancing

Week 1 (March 16-22, 2020)

Week 2 (March 23-29, 2020)

Week 3 (March 30-April 5, 2020)

Week 4 (April 6-12, 2020)

Week 5 (April 13-19, 2020)

Social Distancing Journal: Week 5 (April 13-April 19, 2020)

Roger Ebert's Film Festival - Virginia Theatre - Champaign, Illinois
April 13, 2019 - Photo by Mark Pfeiffer

If these were typical times, I would have spent April 15-18, or some portion of it at least, in Champaign, Illinois for Roger Ebert’s Film Festival. I’ve been attending since 2001 and had been hoping to make it back for the full festival after having to miss part of the event three out of the last four years because I was taking graduate school classes. Work might have interfered this year, but I had a plan in mind to get me there for as much of the fest as possible.

Of course, requesting time off became a non-factor when the 2020 Ebertfest was canceled because all large gatherings were called off and we’re supposed to be staying home. As with a lot of things that would ordinarily be happening, initial news of the cancellation was felt more than the absence. For me this reaction is likely the product of being unusually busy. I clocked sixty hours of work from home this week. What time is there to dwell on what I’m missing if I barely have time to think about much of anything? Is that healthy? It probably is in that I have more purpose every day and probably isn’t in that I recognize I am working too much, even if plugging away for up to thirteen hours a day can be necessary to get the job done and is lucrative.

Bonneville Salt Flats - Tooele County, Utah - June 26, 2019
Photo by Mark Pfeiffer

A yearning to travel hasn’t emerged yet, but if staying at home, aside from essential trips to the grocery, becomes the smart choice for months, I imagine I’ll feel the allure of going somewhere else. Right now I’m especially glad that I made a 5,000-mile round trip drive from mid-June to early July last year that took me as far west as Boise, Idaho. I went on the journey because time was one thing I had in abundance, and I didn’t know when the opportunity to do something like it might be possible in the future. That’s also why I made a short trip to Annapolis, Maryland and northern Virginia about a month later and stopped for a night at Niagara Falls in Ontario before attending the Toronto International Film Festival. I didn’t know what employment I might have and how my time off might be limited, so I tried to take advantage of what was available. I think I needed to travel then and certainly don’t regret doing it, especially when I have no idea when this can be indulged next.

I have a hotel reservation for this fall’s TIFF, but if I’m being honest with myself, I have a hard time believing the film festival will be held. Even if it is, I doubt that attending would be a responsible decision regardless of how much I’d like to be there. I’m guessing that for most people one of the hard parts of social distancing is the growing imbalance between what makes sense and what we want. If we’re being rational, our internal scales are tilted toward knowing it is wise to reduce the risks for ourselves and others no matter how long it takes, yet as this goes on without a clear resolution, the desire for things to return to normal threatens to tip the scales. I’ve stayed focused on each day rather than thinking down the line, and I feel like doing this has kept me level. Will that be true if this situation endures through the summer and into the fall? I can’t say, but it works here and now.   

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Last night I realized that I’ve gone five weeks almost entirely free of in-person face-to-face interactions except for checking out at the grocery store. What a weird way to live. We recorded new episodes of the podcast this week via Webex. Previously we recorded Filmbound in a studio. I wasn’t sure how this would work remotely or if the technical qualities would be where I would like for them to be. Using the Webex recording for editing demonstrated that the tech is good enough but far from perfect as we probably sound at varying times like a vocoder effect has been applied to our voices. While editing I could tell that changing the medium of our discussion also altered how the discussion unfolded. Our dialogue overlapped less, something I was a thankful editor for, especially when I switched up to cutting this week’s episode from our separate phone recordings. (Episode 111 sounds much better than Episode 110.) Still, I think it does illustrate that while remote interactions are worthwhile, they are far from perfect replacements.

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Checkerboard Dishcloth - Photo by Mark Pfeiffer

Work on the podcast soaked up a good bit of my free time this week, but I managed to fit in some other activities. It’s been a long time since I knitted anything, but I was bound and determined to make something this week. A dishcloth was the ideal project, as it was something I could complete relatively quickly while relearning skills that have eroded from non-use. Years ago I took up knitting as a stress reducer. Making this useful item was a nice reminder of the relaxation that comes from engaging in the craft. I can say the same for spending time in the kitchen. Baking was also limited, but I whipped up some blueberry muffins so I would have something quick to pair with a smoothie for work day breakfasts. 

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Music-wise, I listened to a lot of the same stuff I’ve been spinning, so there isn’t really anything to say about that this week. Actually, there wasn’t much that I watched either, which strikes me as fairly strange when considering my viewing habits pre-social distancing. Going to a movie theater isn’t an option right now, but usually I went two to three times a week, with some of those trips including two or three movies. Since I’ve been staying at home, I’m watching a lot fewer films than I have in a long, long time. It’s mainly a time thing--I don’t have enough--but it still seems weird that in these circumstances that my viewing has reduced so dramatically.

In terms of films, the only one I saw this week was Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, which I watched for the podcast. (The episode is now available here and here, among other places.) My co-host had never seen it, much to my surprise, and I felt like the adventures of Harrison Ford’s archaeologist were sufficiently escapist to part ways with my intention to stick primarily to comedies. That’s not to say this movie lacks humor. In many regards it’s a looser, funnier film than a lot of today’s event movies. I don’t recall when I last saw this film, but I was stunned at how much of it came flooding back to me. It’s my least favorite of the Indiana Jones films of the 1980s, so I assume the over-the-top violence and gross-out humor in the form of disgusting delicacies and creepy crawlies made an impression when I saw this as a kid. Temple of Doom holds up better than I expected and than I think its reputation is, so it made for fun viewing in spite of the scenes of human sacrifice that helped spur the PG-13 rating’s creation.

In television, I watched the finale of Schitt’s Creek. Like a lot of people who found the sitcom, I caught up with early seasons on Netflix and watched the last two seasons as they aired after locating Pop in my cable channel guide. I’m still not sure that the show’s name was the best choice, as it suggests a cruder and broader show than this warm and generous comedy is, but ultimately it didn’t prove to be an impediment to success. It doesn’t hurt that Schitt’s Creek is highly meme-able and GIF-able, qualities that I feel have become critical for TV shows to catch on. I don’t really have anything of consequence to say about the series other than to give it a chance if you haven’t heard of it or if the name puts you off.

I’ve mentioned watching Survivor, and I just want to chime in about a part of this episode that producers must think is crucial and which I find very uninteresting. This week featured visits from the cast members’ loved ones, a segment that took up way more of the episode’s time than was necessary and had no visible influence on players’ strategies. I understand that taking part in this reality show/game show must take an emotional toll on people as trust is something inherently in flux, if not outright absent, while living with the other players. And yes, I suspect that reactions are amplified for the sake of cameras as much as the charged circumstances. Maybe it’s because right now so many of us are separated from people we would like to see--and for a longer time than this season’s Winners at War returning players have been away from their friends and families--that the segment hit such a wrong note. The situations are not comparable, obviously, but for a segment that has increasingly become a disposable one on the show, this one really was a clunker. 

Previous Social Distancing Journal Entries:
Pre-Social Distancing

Week 1 (March 16-22, 2020)

Week 2 (March 23-29, 2020)

Week 3 (March 30-April 5, 2020)

Week 4 (April 6-12, 2020)