Reviewing the movie Gone Baby Gone, Manohla Dargis writes:
I’m not sure exactly when Casey Affleck became such a good actor.
And then she goes on to name Affleck’s most recent appearances in the Ocean’s series, Gerry, and The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, unaccountably missing the performance that immediately marked him as an actor to watch:
Good Will Hunting. Duh!
Dargis should have been watching more carefully ten years ago. Yes, thanks to the Miramax publicity machine, that film became The Ben and Matt Show, but that doesn’t excuse her blindness to Casey’s obvious talent. Especially since, back then, he did the exact same thing she praises him for in his new film (directed this time by big bro Ben, who is a terrible actor):
[Casey Affleck] didn’t plead the character’s case or remind us of his own humanity; he just played the role.
Yep.
So. I’m back and I’m mellow—probably because I have studiously avoided catching up on the blogospheric eruptions that I missed while I was away (though I did follow the news, at a vast remove, in the International Herald Tribune, which, shockingly, costs € 2,20 [approx $3.10]; more later on following the news at a vast remove).
Among others, I had P. G. Wodehouse for company on my European idyll, and these words, from Psmith in the City, written in 1910, also helped to lighten my mood [e.a.]:
All political meetings are very much alike. Somebody gets up and introduces the speaker of the evening, and then the speaker of the evening says at great length what he thinks of the scandalous manner in which the Government is behaving or the iniquitous goings-on of the Opposition. From time to time confederates in the audience rise and ask carefully rehearsed questions, and are answered fully and satisfactorily by the orator. When a genuine heckler interrupts, the orator either ignores him, or says haughtily that he can find him arguments but cannot find him brains. Or, occasionally, when the question is an easy one, he answers it. …
The electors of Kenningford who really had any definite opinions on politics were fairly equally divided. There were about as many earnest Liberals as there were earnest Unionists. But besides these there was a strong contingent who did not care which side won. These looked on elections as Heaven-sent opportunities for making a great deal of noise. They attended meetings in order to extract amusement from them; and they voted, if they voted at all, quite irresponsibly. A funny story at the expense of one candidate told on the morning of the polling, was quite likely to send these brave fellows off in dozens filling in their papers for the victim’s opponent.
[Penguin; pp. 56-57]
In 1910, there was no Feiler Faster Thesis to explain (courtesy of Mickey Kaus) that candidates (and their campaign strategists) needn’t fret about not having enough time to connect with voters.
Even a century ago it was understood that only at the last minute do voters give political campaigns their
allotted minute and a half of concentrated thought.
Except: even a century ago Wodehouse knew that the great unwashed among voters don’t give candidates their thought.
They vote with their gut.
And they are likely to be swayed not by facts but by—dare I say it?—infotainment [that is: gossip, rumor, fabrication, PRopagandaTM or anything else that makes for a more entertaining story than what reality, and a factual rendering of it, can deliver].
Upshot: time isn’t the crucial problem for candidates. As always, perception is the problem. Image is the problem. (Then, of course, there’s the little issue of connecting with the public’s mood.)
It’s not fair.
It’s not right.
It could lead us where we definitely don’t want to go.
It’s likely to offer dismal results for those of us “earnest Liberals” who want to vote for Obama—or, rather, to live in a world where Obama’s views hold sway.
But that’s the way it is.
