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Why Yuval Noah Harari is asking the right questions and much more! $$PLAIN_TEXT_PREVIEW$$
MY FAVOURITE THINGS | It’s About Time
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“Three important revolutions shaped the course of history. The Cognitive Revolution kick-started history about 70,000 years ago. The Agricultural Revolution sped it up about 12,000 years ago. The Scientific Revolution, which got under way only 500 years ago, may well end history and start something completely different.” — YUVAL NOAH HARARI
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I’ve been doing my utmost to savour the final weeks of summer, taking impromptu trips out of town or getting an afternoon swim in during the week. The summer season is my favourite time of year. No other season forces folks out of their self-imposed routines to ride a bike, cool off with a swim or enjoy a glass of something tasty in the evening air. Wherever I’ve been lucky enough to travel, from Chicago to Berlin, the locals have an altogether different pep in their step, lounging around outdoor tables and filling public spaces with a sense of celebration after hibernating through winter (and most of Spring). While I never grew up with such bone-chattering climates in the city of Sydney I can’t help falling back into a state of childish joy when the summer sun comes out to play. A conscious reminder to savour it while you can.
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Last year, I published a blog post that framed my outlook on the world as seen through the eyes of three celebrated personalities. Yuval Noah Harari was at the very top of the list (followed closely by George Harrison and Ricky Gervais) for providing a ‘soothing antidote to my existential angst.’ While Ian Parker’s comprehensive profile of the Israeli historian makes plain that I am his key demographic (males aged between 25-35) I can’t deny the fact that my whole perspective on our present moment has been elevated in large part to Harari’s output. Sapiens, Homo Deus and 21 Lessons for the 21st Century are all cogently constructed dissertations on mankind’s past, our unprecedented present and disconcerting future. For those that have yet to dip a toe into his universe, Harari writes with a genuine simplicity, digesting the complexities of humanity with remarkably wit and dexterity. He has rallied the admiration of celebrated personalities like Barack Obama and Bill Gates (whose thoughts are uniquely fascinating). I love the way Parker offers the reader an intimate look at the daily life of the Israeli philosopher, bringing us into his home to help us understand the man in greater detail. His central mantra, — Learn to distinguish reality from illusion — pinned to the bulletin board of his Tel Aviv office, captures my own personal quest and reminds me why he’s such a force for good. I love the way he speaks of the transformative process of meditation (he’s been practicing Vipassana for the past twenty years) and its far-reaching implications on his work and outlook. For any Harari die-hards (or curious minds) be sure to check out his searing presentation at the World Economic Forum in Davos last month (skip to 4:15).
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I’ve got a real chip on my shoulder about the current landscape of Australian content in the 21st Century. Every time I come upon a new homegrown television show or podcast I find myself shaking my head at the lack of originality and its inability to compete with the international landscape in any meaningful way. Ronny Chieng’s recent quote in the New Yorker sums it up better than I ever can, describing our output as ‘very old-people-focussed: old people making content for old people, old people making content for young people.’ After binging the first season of Scott Ryan’s Mr Inbetween — directed by Nash Edgerton — I’ve found my bitterness subsiding, replaced by a sense of pride. For while the television series wouldn’t have come to air without the support of the Yanks (FX financed in collaboration with Screen Australia) there is something so characteristically dinky-di about the underlying narrative. Mr Inbetween follows the life of a wiry but surprisingly proficient hit-man living in the ‘burbs of Sydney, a single father sharing custody with his darling little daughter and simply trying to survive in a ‘world full of arseholes’. Ryan brings so much humanity to Ray, a character adapted from a 2005 low-budget indie feature The Magician which he wrote and directed and for which he has since adapted for the small screen. It’s pretty incredible to conceive that Ryan didn’t get his ‘big break’ until the age of forty-eight but such are the realities of show business. I for one am excited to see where our Antipodean Steve Buscemi takes season two and sincerely hope this kind of content will inspire my generation.
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When Brit Marling’s recent NYT op-ed piece popped up on my social feed I initially swiped over the click-bait headline. After a friend shared it with me a couple days later, urging me to reconsider, I bit the bullet. The Illinois native’s thoughts hit a nerve, bringing dormant emotions to the surface. Within the piece, Marling shares her personal experiences within the Hollywood system before offering a more macro-focused critique of gender inequality. In doing so, she puts the very history of storytelling within her sights, taking aim at the hero’s journey and arguing (with great conviction) that the very foundations of narratives are skewed in favour of men. It’s hard not to agree, to acknowledge that the very idea of the strong female lead — as portrayed within Hollywood pictures — is molded in man’s image. To realize that our conception of women, as portrayed within the arts, is handicapped by thousands of years of patriarchal domination is a tough truth to swallow. As I digested her potent argument I found myself returning to her Instagram post and eating humble pie. Marling’s fear of sticking her neck out and drawing the ire of her peers hit me like a tonne of bricks. It helped me comprehend how hard this decision had been for her. How such vulnerability threatened to derail her steadfast beliefs. Marling’s decision to face her fear head-on is a story of courage. Her dream to re-shape the image of women, to invest within new mythologies for generations to come is both thrilling and inspiring. Confronting our discomfort is how we grow into the best versions of ourselves.
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When my lady first pitched the premise of this show (passed along by my boy Nick Tsindos), I found myself shaking my head in disbelief, unable and unwilling to comprehend the concept. Not only do two young turks choose to review a critically-panned blockbuster sequel from the twenty-first century, but they force themselves to watch and review it for the REST OF THE YEAR! I don’t know about you but watching and gossiping over the merits and shortcomings of Grown Ups II or Sex and The City: The Sequel for fifty-two weeks is nothing short of bonkers. After listening to Tim Batt and Guy Montgomery discuss the merits and shortcomings of Carrie and Samantha’s table manners from SATC II with genuine care and compassion (on episode 46 mind you!), I soon understood what the fuss was all about. How these two Kiwi millennial comedians are able to watch such commercial tripe (on repeat!) and still manage a thoughtful discussion left me giggling at several impasses. While I’ve only chipped the tip of the iceberg, these geezers are the closest thing I’ve found to our very own Popcorn Therapy, two blokes just hanging out and chewing the fat. While the New Zealand duo have gained a cult following, touring the US to present live recordings, it’s nice to know that success hasn’t gotten to them. When I read that one of the big reasons for them starting the show was to strengthen their friendship I knew this series was going to take up a regular spot on my weekly list. For those curious to dip a toe be sure to check out this Jingle All The Way episode. It’s a rare treat.
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I was turned onto the profound beauty of Terry Callier while digesting Michael Kiwanuka’s self-titled KIWANUKA from last year (a masterful accomplishment!) a couple weeks back. According to his Spotify bio, the English talent has drawn favorable comparisons to the likes of Curtis Mayfield, Van Morrison and Callier himself. I’d never heard of the American talent and soon found myself diving into his earliest recordings. While his debut LP The New Sound of Terry Callier and follow-up Occasional Rain are laced with some potent singles, it was his third record that shook me into a frenzy. There is something special about the way Callier marries his heartfelt vocals with the rhythmic instrumentals. Born on the North side of Chicago at the end of WWII, he was childhood friends with Mayfield, eventually scoring a chance to audition for Chess Records at the age of seventeen where he recorded his debut single ‘Look At Me Now’. His debut LP, released in 1968, is a fascinating marriage of traditional folk elements and jazz, influenced by John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme. While his subsequent recordings through the seventies were commercial failures, his cult fanbase allowed him to continue recording until the mid-eighties before he hung up his hat to become a computer programmer. The rise of the DJ in the early nineties would see his music reach new audiences, eventually resulting in his comeback by the end of the decade. Callier would continue to record and tour up until his death in 2012 at the age of sixty-seven. This interview with the late great titan from The Guardian in 04 just about blew my mind.
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There is a section in Hit and Run: How Jon Peters and Peter Guber took Sony for a Ride in Hollywood (profiled in the last edition) that dives into the making of Tim Burton’s Batman in the late 1980s. It is one of the wildest behind-the-scenes stories that I’ve ever come upon and features so many encounters that left me shaking my head in wonder. Stories of Peters driving a young Burton to tears as he consistently tweaked the director’s shooting script and production schedule. Of Peters driving Kim Basinger’s hot-tempered hubby out of town — Peters was no saint himself — before engaging in a rather public affair with the starlet. But it was Peters’ collaboration with Anton Furst, the talented production designer, that really left a lasting image. Peters championed the English talent, co-opting his help in designing the poster and marketing materials for the movie (much to Warner Bros chagrin). Furst’s bold design, featuring nothing but the bat logo, would captivate audiences and went on to play a large part in making the film a box office darling. Furst would be invited to Hollywood after designing Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket and would go onto to spearhead the re-design of the old Columbia lot following Sony’s acquisition in 1990 along with the interiors for the Planet Hollywood franchise. At the height of his success, Furst — afflicted by manic depression —would take his own life in 1991, jumping from the top floor of a carpark structure. He was forty-seven.
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