Posts tagged: alex MacFadyen
Screen Editor alex writes about Mad Men's Don Draper, True Detective's Marty Hart and the limits of self-control.
Self-control is rooted in stopping something that feels good because you can see that it will lead somewhere bad later. Adults are pretty strongly motivated by the avoidance of imagined future pain, so if they envision their boss calling them into her office and yelling at them for doing something, that’s usually enough to stop them from doing it. Children, however, aren’t very good at predicting consequences. They need adults to act as a control while they’re learning because their primary motivation is the experience they’re having right now. They’re figuring out how to avoid getting in trouble later by making a better choice in the moment, but they’ll get all the way to being yelled at before they realize it was a mistake, at which point they’d do anything to make it stop. And that anything is often just another thing that seems like a good idea at the time, but actually makes it worse later.
And his article was one of RogerEbert.com’s “Thumbnails.” Check it out here.
Screen Editor Alex’s latest piece for the Gutter is RogerEbert.com’s daily Thumbnails. Meanwhile, at the Alcohol Professor, SF/F Editor Keith writes about the Stonewall Inn, aka, “The Bar That Launched Pride.”
We all know what we thought before we did that thing we really shouldn’t have done. We had a reason. Maybe it wasn’t a good reason, but unless we’re in an existentialist novel it wasn’t completely random and without motivation. Our understanding of why we do things is inextricably linked to what happened around us and how we were provoked. Other people, however, often do appear to be doing things completely randomly and without motivation because we don’t get to see what preceded their actions. It takes a conscious effort to remind ourselves that maybe that person who just drove through a giant mud puddle and left us dripping on the sidewalk was rushing to get somewhere for a reason we could empathize with and didn’t notice we were there until it was too late. When I do something inconsiderate or idiotic it’s because reasons, but when you do it, it’s because you’re a jerk.
It’s called the fundamental attribution error, and it started me thinking about other kinds of perceptual errors people make, like taking things at surface value and mistaking some element of the appearance for the complete reality.
Screen Editor alex writes about Jack Skellington and Bright Spot Theory:
My heart is like a toddler. It has very little concern for cause and effect and only a tenuous grasp on temporality. All sorts of things it really ought to know by now, it doesn’t appear to. I’ve had years to teach it better social behavior, but it’s basically still the kid jumping up and down in the back of the room, raising its hand so high it hurts, saying ‘I can do that!’ to crazy things I’m old enough to have learned it can’t promise. I don’t really believe it anymore, but I’m still entranced by what it wants me to see – the shiny possibility, the best ending to the story, the bright spot in a dark room. That said, I acknowledge that there’s a critical difference between finding and following the positive in a situation and fooling yourself with blind optimism. Take Jack Skellington in Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas.
Click through to read the rest.
This week at the Gutter, Screen Editor alex looks at Adventure Time, narrative, consequences and sandwiches.
Over the past several months I’ve been working my way through all of Pendleton Ward‘s Adventure Time, in part because it comes in 11 minute segments that are easy to squeeze into tiny cracks of spare time, but mostly because it’s awesome. There are lots of things to love about it – the humor, the weirdness, the clever allusions to art and literature – but I think the thing I enjoy most is how creatively they play with narrative. Watching all of the ideas they’re able to explore by ignoring the usual boundaries of time, space and consequences makes me realize how limiting conventions can be.
Screen Editor alex becomes a Vengeful God (and Comics Editor Carol becomes a tyrannical mayor) in simulated life games:
When it comes to raising a child who can use words and interact with other humans, so far I seem to be succeeding, but I have to admit that my track record prior to this was not exactly promising. Aside from managing to keep an egg safe for a week in middle school, my first attempt at virtual parenthood was a joint effort with comics editor Carol Borden in the initial release of the game Creatures in the late 90s. We had fun, but we failed.
Screen Editor alex ponders theoretical sailboats, The Fantastic Mr. Fox, and the guy he’ll never be:
To my mind, those empty boat supports became a metaphor for the things you know in your heart of hearts you’re never going to do but you just can’t quite let go. Instead you bend and twist to fit around them so you don’t have to admit to yourself that you’re actually just not that guy. Sometimes you could never be that guy, and sometimes you can’t be without giving something else up so you have to choose. And sometimes that choice really sucks.
But how do you differentiate between an achievable dream and an unrealistic fantasy? It’s one of the central dilemmas in The Fantastic Mr. Fox, which I have seen many, many times (minus the scary scenes with the villains, Boggis, Bunce and Bean).
This week at The Gutter: Editor alex thinks about “Naked Woman (Steep Hill)”
One night, when I was poking around on the internet for something mindless to play, I stumbled across a game called Naked Woman (Steep Hill). The description: “Control the fate of a naked woman riding down a steep hill. 20 options decide her doom. Feel free to suggest any other fates she can face!” My response was something akin to watching a horror movie between your fingers – I had a feeling that I’d wish I hadn’t seen it but I couldn’t quite bring myself to look away.
Screen Editor Alex looks at flaws, failures, Raising Arizona and Run Fatboy Run:
I feel like there’s a lesson in a thousand quirky movies that I, in my struggles to do my absolute best at all times, never quite seem to learn: our limitations don’t make us less lovable. They may drive us crazy and make us more irritating, but being flawed is something we all share. We’re all good at this and suck at that. It’s one of the roots of compassion.
It’s also why I’m fond of movies like Raising Arizona or Run Fatboy Run.