newyorker--2020-02-07--Oscars Predictions 2020: The Gulf Between Who Should Win and Who Will

Sentiment taints prognostications .
This year , I ’ m making a conscious effort to put aside any hope that the Academy may see things my way , in part because its cynicism is more overt than ever before .
The absence of Adam Sandler and “ Uncut Gems ” from the nominees , the absence of Greta Gerwig or any other woman in the Best Director category , the scant presence of black actors—none of these omissions seem to matter in the slightest to the Academy .
I have a little hypothesis : the only thing that the Academy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ got this year with “ Joker ” ( but would have enjoyed all the more had the front-runner been “ Avengers : Endgame ” ) , is for superhero movies and other franchises to be represented on the broadcast , the better to attract as young ( and as large ) an audience as those films do .
That ’ s why they floated a Best Popular Film award in 2018—before holding off because of pushback .
Sandlerites and Safdie-ites and Peelians and Gerwigians aren ’ t enough of an audience for the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ which explains why the major studios don ’ t produce many films of that sort ; independent producers mainly do so ) .
The victory of “ Moonlight , ” in 2017 , and the four nominations of “ Get Out , ” the following year , gave the Academy the sense that it could coast for years to come without worrying about pesky issues of representation , and that ’ s what it has been doing—not merely from lassitude but from a cold-eyed view of where it thinks its bread is buttered @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Oscars ’ most important product .
It is not nostalgia for movies or stars but for the era when making movies was tantamount to printing money—above all , the classic studio era , when Hollywood was the only audiovisual game in town , there were hardly any independents to challenge the studios ’ dominion , and studios even owned their own theatres to insure their own releases ( and pose obstacles to others ) .
The rules governing who can vote guarantee that awards will generally represent not the industry as it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ those who remember desperately want it to be so again .
The dignity of the industry depends on movies that resound with importance , but its economy depends on franchises .
The studios were never very good at recognizing their enduring works of art , which , more often than not , were the romantic melodramas , loopy comedies , crime dramas , musicals , and Westerns that were overlooked as frivolous .
The Academy is , to this day , no better at acknowledging movies that don ’ t reek of serious @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
This Sunday , it will continue the same dull and pompous tradition .
“ 1917 ” will win Best Picture , thanks to voters who are impressed by its visual originality , because they saw the same thing done five years ago , with “ Birdman , ” and voted for it then , too .
“ 1917 ” ’ s showy method—the digital suturing of long takes that makes the movie appear to be one continuous take—masks the banality of the script and the flimsiness of the story ; it depicts @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , history , context , and consciousness and reduced to the sort of action film that , without the historical framework , would be considered embarrassingly frivolous .
Putting forth outrageous trivializations with a proud face is Hollywood ’ s stock in trade .
“ Jojo Rabbit ” is the runner-up , because nothing signifies high moral seriousness to the Academy ’ s voters like Nazis .
Third choice : “ Once Upon a Time .
.
.
in Hollywood , ” because Hollywood loves to celebrate its past and , even more @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the world that Quentin Tarantino counterfactually saves is one in which Hollywood never had to modernize .
Impersonations of celebrities never fail to impress the Academy , because such performances take a kind of conspicuous , stuntlike labor that is easy to identify , as much quantitatively as qualitatively .
Renée Zellweger , in “ Judy , ” does something more impressive and substantial ; despite a flimsy script , she manages , in her role as Judy Garland , to convey the thrill of onstage performance and then , late in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ its confines and meld the role with her own personality .
She ’ ll win for it , though .
I ’ d prefer that the award go to Cynthia Erivo , who , as Harriet Tubman , evokes a complex blend of traits : unyielding courage , organizational practicality , steadfast principle , and visionary spirituality .
Saoirse Ronan ’ s performance in “ Little Women ” lacks Jo March ’ s creative ardor and impulsive anger ; it ’ s a skilled and amiable performance but not a passionate one .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Story ” is limited by Noah Baumbach ’ s conception of the role , which is blandly idolizing , largely for his self-exonerating purposes .
As for Charlize Theron ’ s incarnation of Megyn Kelly , in “ Bombshell , ” that film is like “ Jojo Rabbit ” with newspeople—a pantalonnade that largely depoliticizes and dehistoricizes Fox News—and neither the direction , by Jay Roach , nor the script allow her to deliver more than impressive competence .
Joaquin Phoenix , “ Joker ” Adam Driver , “ Marriage Story ” Leonardo @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
.
.
in Hollywood ” Antonio Banderas , “ Pain and Glory ” Jonathan Pryce , “ The Two Popes ” I suspect that many voters will prefer Antonio Banderas ’ s worldly romanticism and understated sensuality .
But the Academy ’ s notion of best acting tends to be most acting , and thus Joaquin Phoenix ’ s incoherent bag of shticks , in “ Joker , ” will take the statuette .
I think that Phoenix is one of the best actors working today ; like all actors , though @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s given to work with , which , in “ Joker , ” is a mess of sensational but empty scenes that only his furious antics fill out .
Poor Leonardo DiCaprio ; was he even in “ Once Upon a Time .
.
.
in Hollywood ” ?
The movie is stolen by Brad Pitt , and DiCaprio never gets to shine in it ; his nomination here is , I think , for the movie as a whole , and for what DiCaprio ’ s role signifies in it—things in Hollywood @ @ @ @ @ @ @ should have been nominated for “ The Dead Don ’ t Die ” ; his theatrical , heavy-lifting performance in “ Marriage Story ” is less original than what he does with Jim Jarmusch ’ s epigrammatic whimsy ( which is why the former brought a nomination : theatrical craft is what the Academy tends to celebrate ) .
As for Jonathan Pryce in “ The Two Popes , ” he hits all the notes , as does Anthony Hopkins , who ’ s nominated for Actor in a Supporting Role for the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Wikipedia article—one that fits easily into the kind of topically serious movie that takes the place of audacity and invention .
It ’ s the director , Fernando Meirelles , who deserves both nominations , not because of any particular originality but because his active camera and rapid montage create a simulacrum of cinematic vitality that the facile script doesn ’ t .

Sentiment taints prognostications. This year, I’m making a conscious effort to put aside any hope that the Academy may see things my way, in part because its cynicism is more overt than ever before. The absence of Adam Sandler and “Uncut Gems” from the nominees, the absence of Greta Gerwig or any other woman in the Best Director category, the scant presence of black actors—none of these omissions seem to matter in the slightest to the Academy. I have a little hypothesis: the only thing that the Academy wants, and that it sort of got this year with “Joker” (but would have enjoyed all the more had the front-runner been “Avengers: Endgame”), is for superhero movies and other franchises to be represented on the broadcast, the better to attract as young (and as large) an audience as those films do. That’s why they floated a Best Popular Film award in 2018—before holding off because of pushback. Sandlerites and Safdie-ites and Peelians and Gerwigians aren’t enough of an audience for the industry at large to care about (which explains why the major studios don’t produce many films of that sort; independent producers mainly do so). The victory of “Moonlight,” in 2017, and the four nominations of “Get Out,” the following year, gave the Academy the sense that it could coast for years to come without worrying about pesky issues of representation, and that’s what it has been doing—not merely from lassitude but from a cold-eyed view of where it thinks its bread is buttered.
Besides actual money, nostalgia is the Oscars’ most important product. It is not nostalgia for movies or stars but for the era when making movies was tantamount to printing money—above all, the classic studio era, when Hollywood was the only audiovisual game in town, there were hardly any independents to challenge the studios’ dominion, and studios even owned their own theatres to insure their own releases (and pose obstacles to others). The rules governing who can vote guarantee that awards will generally represent not the industry as it is now but as it once was—because those who remember desperately want it to be so again. The dignity of the industry depends on movies that resound with importance, but its economy depends on franchises. The studios were never very good at recognizing their enduring works of art, which, more often than not, were the romantic melodramas, loopy comedies, crime dramas, musicals, and Westerns that were overlooked as frivolous. The Academy is, to this day, no better at acknowledging movies that don’t reek of serious intent and the self-important proclamation of it. This Sunday, it will continue the same dull and pompous tradition.
Best Picture
“Once Upon a Time . . . in Hollywood”
“The Irishman”
“Parasite”
“1917”
“Marriage Story”
“Jojo Rabbit”
“Joker”
“Little Women”
“Ford v Ferrari”
“1917” will win Best Picture, thanks to voters who are impressed by its visual originality, because they saw the same thing done five years ago, with “Birdman,” and voted for it then, too. “1917” ’s showy method—the digital suturing of long takes that makes the movie appear to be one continuous take—masks the banality of the script and the flimsiness of the story; it depicts a First World War devoid of politics, history, context, and consciousness and reduced to the sort of action film that, without the historical framework, would be considered embarrassingly frivolous. Putting forth outrageous trivializations with a proud face is Hollywood’s stock in trade. “Jojo Rabbit” is the runner-up, because nothing signifies high moral seriousness to the Academy’s voters like Nazis. Third choice: “Once Upon a Time . . . in Hollywood,” because Hollywood loves to celebrate its past and, even more, to celebrate itself saving the world—and the world that Quentin Tarantino counterfactually saves is one in which Hollywood never had to modernize.
Actress in a Leading Role
Renée Zellweger, “Judy”
Charlize Theron, “Bombshell”
Scarlett Johansson, “Marriage Story”
Saoirse Ronan, “Little Women”
Cynthia Erivo, “Harriet”
Impersonations of celebrities never fail to impress the Academy, because such performances take a kind of conspicuous, stuntlike labor that is easy to identify, as much quantitatively as qualitatively. Renée Zellweger, in “Judy,” does something more impressive and substantial; despite a flimsy script, she manages, in her role as Judy Garland, to convey the thrill of onstage performance and then, late in the film, seems to break out of its confines and meld the role with her own personality. She’ll win for it, though. I’d prefer that the award go to Cynthia Erivo, who, as Harriet Tubman, evokes a complex blend of traits: unyielding courage, organizational practicality, steadfast principle, and visionary spirituality. Saoirse Ronan’s performance in “Little Women” lacks Jo March’s creative ardor and impulsive anger; it’s a skilled and amiable performance but not a passionate one. What Scarlett Johansson does in “Marriage Story” is limited by Noah Baumbach’s conception of the role, which is blandly idolizing, largely for his self-exonerating purposes. As for Charlize Theron’s incarnation of Megyn Kelly, in “Bombshell,” that film is like “Jojo Rabbit” with newspeople—a pantalonnade that largely depoliticizes and dehistoricizes Fox News—and neither the direction, by Jay Roach, nor the script allow her to deliver more than impressive competence.
Actor in a Leading Role
Joaquin Phoenix, “Joker”
Adam Driver, “Marriage Story”
Leonardo DiCaprio, “Once Upon a Time . . . in Hollywood”
Antonio Banderas, “Pain and Glory”
Jonathan Pryce, “The Two Popes”
I suspect that many voters will prefer Antonio Banderas’s worldly romanticism and understated sensuality. But the Academy’s notion of best acting tends to be most acting, and thus Joaquin Phoenix’s incoherent bag of shticks, in “Joker,” will take the statuette. I think that Phoenix is one of the best actors working today; like all actors, though, he depends on what he’s given to work with, which, in “Joker,” is a mess of sensational but empty scenes that only his furious antics fill out. Poor Leonardo DiCaprio; was he even in “Once Upon a Time . . . in Hollywood”? The movie is stolen by Brad Pitt, and DiCaprio never gets to shine in it; his nomination here is, I think, for the movie as a whole, and for what DiCaprio’s role signifies in it—things in Hollywood remaining as they were. Adam Driver should have been nominated for “The Dead Don’t Die”; his theatrical, heavy-lifting performance in “Marriage Story” is less original than what he does with Jim Jarmusch’s epigrammatic whimsy (which is why the former brought a nomination: theatrical craft is what the Academy tends to celebrate). As for Jonathan Pryce in “The Two Popes,” he hits all the notes, as does Anthony Hopkins, who’s nominated for Actor in a Supporting Role for the same movie, which is an illustrated Wikipedia article—one that fits easily into the kind of topically serious movie that takes the place of audacity and invention. It’s the director, Fernando Meirelles, who deserves both nominations, not because of any particular originality but because his active camera and rapid montage create a simulacrum of cinematic vitality that the facile script doesn’t.
Best Director
Martin Scorsese, “The Irishman”
Quentin Tarantino, “Once Upon a Time . . . in Hollywood”
Bong Joon-ho, “Parasite”
Sam Mendes, “1917”
Todd Phillips, “Joker”
“1917.” Photograph Courtesy Universal Pictures
Sam Mendes will win, because his directorial contribution to “1917” is the most conspicuous, though I think that the next most likely winner is Bong Joon-ho, for “Parasite,” not because what he does is distinctive (the movie’s script is more original than its direction) but because it’s both showy and narrowly focussed on the story. Martin Scorsese is in a category by himself this year. His achievement in “The Irishman,” using a panoply of classic-cinema studio techniques along with daring digital transformations to create a vast historical fresco that’s also a hushed and intimate work, has no peer. In other words, his is complicated direction, and therefore he won’t win. Quentin Tarantino has won much industry love for “Once Upon a Time . . . in Hollywood,” but, now that he’s taken it upon himself to be a righter of historical wrongs, his screenplays dominate his direction, and only a few scattered moments in “Once Upon a Time” have the verve that he displayed in his early films. As for Todd Phillips, his direction in “Joker” is as slapdash as it is garish, but in any case the movie depends far more on Phoenix’s performance and, for that matter, on production design.
Actor in a Supporting Role
Brad Pitt, “Once Upon a Time . . . in Hollywood”
Al Pacino, “The Irishman”
Joe Pesci, “The Irishman”
Tom Hanks, “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood”
Anthony Hopkins, “The Two Popes”
Brad Pitt is a lock for a role that allows him to exude charm and swagger and doesn’t cramp him in the kind of earnest drama that he does uneasily. On the other hand, his very nomination as a supporting actor strikes me as category fraud; his role is a leading one—even the leading one. Joe Pesci’s performance in “The Irishman” defies words—literally. Despite the vast and compact power pressed into his every phrase, Pesci here offers glances and gestures that outleap them. It’s too much to expect the Academy to endorse, which is why Al Pacino is there alongside Pesci, for a performance that—with its hard-edged pugnacity and bluff declamations—is in the Academy’s showy wheelhouse. Tom Hanks’s performance as Mr. Rogers in “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood” is transformative, thanks to the bold and original direction of Marielle Heller (whose absence from the Best Director nominees is a scandal). Hanks plays Rogers as haunted, hesitant, wrapped in pained, principled, self-doubting silences. As for Anthony Hopkins’s performance in “The Two Popes,” it delivers nothing that isn’t in the script, and there isn’t much there; it’s admirable for its precision, its professionalism, and its effort, but not for any element of surprise. It’s therefore the second most likely to win.
Actress in a Supporting Role
Laura Dern, “Marriage Story”
Margot Robbie, “Bombshell”
Florence Pugh, “Little Women”
Scarlett Johansson, “Jojo Rabbit”
Kathy Bates, “Richard Jewell”
California is a community-property state, as “Marriage Story” reminds viewers, and the Academy is sixty-eight per cent male, which is why Laura Dern’s path to an Oscar, in the role of a ferocious divorce lawyer who represents a woman—and who backs up her toughness with principle—is more difficult than it should be. Dern will, I fear, be punished for giving grand dramatic life to Noah Baumbach’s noteworthy insight. As Amy in “Little Women,” Florence Pugh brings excitement to Greta Gerwig’s conception of the character as self-aware, alert, and energetic, but I think that many voters have an unshakable prejudice against the movie for its domestic—and, implicitly, feminine—focus, which they mistake for lack of high moral seriousness. There’s no danger of that with “Jojo Rabbit,” in which Scarlett Johansson ably, yet pointlessly, abets Taika Waititi’s simplistic, ahistorical, and trivializing sentiment. Johansson will win. Margot Robbie does more with less material than the other nominees, but, as scripted, her role in “Bombshell,” as a Fox true believer, is stated rather than developed. Kathy Bates’s performance in “Richard Jewell” is a worthy contender—she brings vigor, warmth, subtlety, and poignancy to a significant though somewhat underwritten role, as a panic-stricken mother whose faith in the authorities is shaken by their abuses. The movie is, in some ways, one of the year’s best and, in others, one of the most dubious, which likely makes it too troublesome to win any awards.
International Feature Film
South Korea, “Parasite”
Spain, “Pain and Glory”
France, “Les Misérables”
North Macedonia, “Honeyland”
Poland, “Corpus Christi”


newyorker--2020-02-07--Louis C.K.’s Return to the Stage

Louis C.K.’s Return to the Stage

Hilton Als reviews Louis C.K.
’ s first American tour since the comedian was accused of sexual misconduct , in @ @ @ @ @ performer in C.K.
’ s position say about his scandal , and can he use @ @ @ @ @ belief in him ?
Plus , Jelani Cobb discusses the black vote in the 2020 @ @ @ @ @ , the chair of the Patriotic Millionaires , talks with Sheelah Kolhatkar about why he @ @ @ @ @ taxes .
Black voters may be key to who wins the Democratic nomination—and the general @ @ @ @ @ the white front-runners get the turnout they need ?
The New Yorker ’ s Hilton @ @ @ @ @ s return after a sexual-misconduct scandal .
A New Yorker staffer picks three things she @ @ @ @ @ about .
The Patriotic Millionaires Want to Raise Their Own Taxes A small group of @ @ @ @ @ gap has grown too large , and that it will hurt economic growth .
The @ @ @ @ @ raise their own taxes .

Illustration by Golden Cosmos
Hilton Als reviews Louis C.K.’s first American tour since the comedian was accused of sexual misconduct, in 2017. What should a performer in C.K.’s position say about his scandal, and can he use his art to redeem our belief in him? Plus, Jelani Cobb discusses the black vote in the 2020 election; and Morris Pearl, the chair of the Patriotic Millionaires, talks with Sheelah Kolhatkar about why he wants to raise his own taxes.
The Black Vote in 2020
Black voters may be key to who wins the Democratic nomination—and the general election. Will any of the white front-runners get the turnout they need?
Louis C.K.’s Return to the Stage
The New Yorker’s Hilton Als reviews the comic’s return after a sexual-misconduct scandal.
Tyler Foggatt Picks Three
A New Yorker staffer picks three things she can’t stop thinking about.
The Patriotic Millionaires Want to Raise Their Own Taxes
A small group of one-per-centers argues that the wealth gap has grown too large, and that it will hurt economic growth. The solution? They want to raise their own taxes.


newyorker--2020-02-07--In New Hampshire, Pete Buttigieg Makes the Case for Moderation

Pete Buttigieg is , at thirty-eight , the youngest candidate in this year ’ s Democratic primary , and the first openly gay candidate for President .
His boldest rhetoric tends to be about the need for “ generational change ” in Washington , D.C. , but he is running what amounts to a moderate campaign in the current field .
He supports a path to citizenship for undocumented immigrants , without decriminalizing illegal border crossings , and proposes an option for universal health care that would leave the private-insurance industry in place .
After finishing either first or second @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hopes to accomplish something similar in New Hampshire .
There are reasons for him to be optimistic in the first primary state , where ninety per cent of the population is white , and nearly half of registered voters are undeclared and can vote in the Democratic or the Republican primaries .
Joe Biden , as the middle-of-the-road stalwart , should be competitive here , but , as with Iowa , he isn ’ t .
The most recent New Hampshire poll shows Buttigieg in second place , just a point behind Bernie @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of ideology and demographics , Buttigieg also might have a particular advantage in appealing to many voters in New Hampshire .
There is no state income tax , or sales tax , the median age is the second oldest in the country , and the state motto is , famously , “ Live Free or Die.
” But there is also , in small doses , a new sense of hipness—farm-to-table restaurants , cocktail bars , and art galleries—in areas that , for decades , seemed to conspicuously cling to their Colonial roots @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , he is frequently the youngest person in the room .
His campaign projects an image that , like New Hampshire , feels at once radical and safe .
Around noon on Tuesday , Buttigieg was at Community Oven , a wood-fired pizza restaurant , in Hampton .
Inside , chalkboards celebrated locally grown produce , and a mural behind the cook ’ s station read , “ LOVIN ’ THE OVEN.
” Near a row of booths , Robert Saltmarsh was standing with his arms crossed , in a leather jacket and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , worked in high-tech finance in California for almost thirty years before retiring to New Hampshire .
For the past two months , he has been donating money to the Buttigieg campaign .
“ Right away , this guy stood out as being different than the rest , ” Saltmarsh told me .
“ Smart and honest .
A lot of integrity.
” Buttigieg ’ s relatively young age didn ’ t concern him , he said , because “ the seventy-year-old crowds really screwed it up , so why are you voting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for a new generation.
” Buttigieg , wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up , a blue tie , and charcoal-gray slacks , opened with a now familiar thought experiment “ of what it ’ s going to be like the first time the sun comes up over New Hampshire , and Donald Trump is no longer the President of the United States.
” He describes a historic coalition that can bring that day about , because “ I ’ m meeting so many independents who are frustrated and furious with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ White House , and a remarkable number of what I like to call ‘ future former Republicans ’ who come to our events.
” In the face of the “ generation-defining ” challenge of defeating Trump , he frames his lack of experience as an advantage .
“ Every time my party has won the White House in the last half century , we ’ ve done it with a candidate who is focussed on the future and hadn ’ t been in Washington very long , or not at all , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ generation of leadership , ” he said .
In the course of five campaign stops on Tuesday , Buttigieg went on to make broad appeals to the possibility of national consensus .
“ God does not belong to a political party in the United States of America , ” he said , but , in a state with the motto “ Live Free or Die , ” everyone should support “ insuring that the government stays out of the business of dictating to women what their reproductive health-care choices ought to be.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he said , “ there is a powerful American majority that spreads across both parties insisting that we no longer allow the Second Amendment to be transformed into an excuse to do nothing at all.
” Perhaps his most charming line , which comes at the close of his stump speech , is also willfully cloying .
“ This is no time to walk away , ” he said , suddenly serious .
“ This is no time to let the cynics win by stepping away from the process.
” But , while @ @ @ @ @ @ @ assured his audience that he is running for President “ as an expression of hope.
” In fact , it ’ s perhaps not an accident , he said , that the word “ hopeful ” has become a synonym for “ candidate.
” He flashes a star-pupil grin , grabs his lapel , and bounces on his heels as he said , “ I ’ m a 2020 hopeful.
” In Hampton , he had only begun to run through the issues when Lisa Demaine , a twenty-five-year-old climate activist , stood @ @ @ @ @ @ @ him .
She had come to the event planning to disrupt it with a small group organized by 350.org .
This was the second time in the span of a few weeks that the group had turned up at a Buttigieg event , calling attention to the fact that he signed a pledge not to accept money from the fossil-fuel industry but held a fund-raiser at a vineyard owned by Craig Hall , a real-estate investor who has backed oil-and-gas projects .
( The Buttigieg campaign has argued that , because Hall is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from him doesn ’ t break the pledge . )
Before the event , I had spoken to Lila Kohrman-Glaser , another volunteer from 350.org .
If the nomination goes to Buttigieg , she said , “ I think we ’ re going to have a really tough time getting young people to vote in New Hampshire , and that ’ s going to mean that we might lose.
” As she and the other demonstrators , all of whom were under the age of thirty , were escorted out to the parking @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you for your climate activism.
” None of this seemed to concern the rest of the crowd , some of whom had shouted “ Down in front !
” and “ You ’ re being rude !
” during the protest .
After the event , Sue Jones , a bookkeeper for a boutique art gallery , told me that she had liked what she ’ d seen from Buttigieg .
“ I think he is very moderate in what he wants to accomplish , ” she said .
“ I do like @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you want to sign up for it , but you keep your insurance going.
” More important , though , she said , is the sense that Buttigieg could be a transformational figure .
“ I think our leaders should be moral beacons , ” she told me .
“ I think what comes from the top filters down and influences everybody down below.
” She added , “ He ’ s young , which makes a difference .
I think he ’ s enthusiastic .
He is hopeful .
He says all @ @ @ @ @ @ @ right to be hopeful .
A competitive showing in New Hampshire could establish him as the moderate alternative to Sanders .
On Tuesday evening , he spoke to about eight hundred people at Concord ’ s City Hall Auditorium .
John Jezak , a thirty-four-year-old pharmacist , had decided to come after seeing the news out of Iowa .
“ I thought it would be super cool to be here tonight , being a supporter , and kind of seeing that energy , ” he said .
“ I thought he ’ d @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in Bow with his wife and two kids , voted for Barack Obama in the 2008 Democratic primary , and John Kasich , a Republican , in 2016 .
“ I was trying to get the anti-Trump , ” he explained .
“ That failed.
” He first saw Buttigieg at an event in October and “ it clicked.
” “ I ’ m truly a moderate , ” he told me .
“ It ’ s been harder and harder to be a moderate in current times .
”

Pete Buttigieg is, at thirty-eight, the youngest candidate in this year’s Democratic primary, and the first openly gay candidate for President. His boldest rhetoric tends to be about the need for “generational change” in Washington, D.C., but he is running what amounts to a moderate campaign in the current field. He supports a path to citizenship for undocumented immigrants, without decriminalizing illegal border crossings, and proposes an option for universal health care that would leave the private-insurance industry in place.
After finishing either first or second in the chaotic Iowa caucuses, Buttigieg hopes to accomplish something similar in New Hampshire. There are reasons for him to be optimistic in the first primary state, where ninety per cent of the population is white, and nearly half of registered voters are undeclared and can vote in the Democratic or the Republican primaries. Joe Biden, as the middle-of-the-road stalwart, should be competitive here, but, as with Iowa, he isn’t. The most recent New Hampshire poll shows Buttigieg in second place, just a point behind Bernie Sanders.
Beyond this basic political calculus of ideology and demographics, Buttigieg also might have a particular advantage in appealing to many voters in New Hampshire. There is no state income tax, or sales tax, the median age is the second oldest in the country, and the state motto is, famously, “Live Free or Die.” But there is also, in small doses, a new sense of hipness—farm-to-table restaurants, cocktail bars, and art galleries—in areas that, for decades, seemed to conspicuously cling to their Colonial roots. At Buttigieg’s campaign events, he is frequently the youngest person in the room. His campaign projects an image that, like New Hampshire, feels at once radical and safe.
Around noon on Tuesday, Buttigieg was at Community Oven, a wood-fired pizza restaurant, in Hampton. Inside, chalkboards celebrated locally grown produce, and a mural behind the cook’s station read, “LOVIN’ THE OVEN.” Near a row of booths, Robert Saltmarsh was standing with his arms crossed, in a leather jacket and jeans. Saltmarsh, who is sixty-five, worked in high-tech finance in California for almost thirty years before retiring to New Hampshire. For the past two months, he has been donating money to the Buttigieg campaign. “Right away, this guy stood out as being different than the rest,” Saltmarsh told me. “Smart and honest. A lot of integrity.” Buttigieg’s relatively young age didn’t concern him, he said, because “the seventy-year-old crowds really screwed it up, so why are you voting for them? It’s time for a new generation.”
Buttigieg, wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a blue tie, and charcoal-gray slacks, opened with a now familiar thought experiment “of what it’s going to be like the first time the sun comes up over New Hampshire, and Donald Trump is no longer the President of the United States.” He describes a historic coalition that can bring that day about, because “I’m meeting so many independents who are frustrated and furious with what’s going on in this White House, and a remarkable number of what I like to call ‘future former Republicans’ who come to our events.” In the face of the “generation-defining” challenge of defeating Trump, he frames his lack of experience as an advantage. “Every time my party has won the White House in the last half century, we’ve done it with a candidate who is focussed on the future and hadn’t been in Washington very long, or not at all, and was opening the door to a new generation of leadership,” he said.
In the course of five campaign stops on Tuesday, Buttigieg went on to make broad appeals to the possibility of national consensus. “God does not belong to a political party in the United States of America,” he said, but, in a state with the motto “Live Free or Die,” everyone should support “insuring that the government stays out of the business of dictating to women what their reproductive health-care choices ought to be.” When it comes to gun violence, he said, “there is a powerful American majority that spreads across both parties insisting that we no longer allow the Second Amendment to be transformed into an excuse to do nothing at all.” Perhaps his most charming line, which comes at the close of his stump speech, is also willfully cloying. “This is no time to walk away,” he said, suddenly serious. “This is no time to let the cynics win by stepping away from the process.” But, while Sanders promises a political revolution, Buttigieg assured his audience that he is running for President “as an expression of hope.” In fact, it’s perhaps not an accident, he said, that the word “hopeful” has become a synonym for “candidate.” He flashes a star-pupil grin, grabs his lapel, and bounces on his heels as he said, “I’m a 2020 hopeful.”
In Hampton, he had only begun to run through the issues when Lisa Demaine, a twenty-five-year-old climate activist, stood on her chair and started shouting at him. She had come to the event planning to disrupt it with a small group organized by 350.org. This was the second time in the span of a few weeks that the group had turned up at a Buttigieg event, calling attention to the fact that he signed a pledge not to accept money from the fossil-fuel industry but held a fund-raiser at a vineyard owned by Craig Hall, a real-estate investor who has backed oil-and-gas projects. (The Buttigieg campaign has argued that, because Hall is principally in real estate, taking money from him doesn’t break the pledge.)
Before the event, I had spoken to Lila Kohrman-Glaser, another volunteer from 350.org. If the nomination goes to Buttigieg, she said, “I think we’re going to have a really tough time getting young people to vote in New Hampshire, and that’s going to mean that we might lose.” As she and the other demonstrators, all of whom were under the age of thirty, were escorted out to the parking lot, Buttigieg said, “Thank you for your climate activism.”
None of this seemed to concern the rest of the crowd, some of whom had shouted “Down in front!” and “You’re being rude!” during the protest. After the event, Sue Jones, a bookkeeper for a boutique art gallery, told me that she had liked what she’d seen from Buttigieg. “I think he is very moderate in what he wants to accomplish,” she said. “I do like Medicare for All, as long as you want to sign up for it, but you keep your insurance going.” More important, though, she said, is the sense that Buttigieg could be a transformational figure. “I think our leaders should be moral beacons,” she told me. “I think what comes from the top filters down and influences everybody down below.” She added, “He’s young, which makes a difference. I think he’s enthusiastic. He is hopeful. He says all the right things.”
Buttigieg has every right to be hopeful. A competitive showing in New Hampshire could establish him as the moderate alternative to Sanders. On Tuesday evening, he spoke to about eight hundred people at Concord’s City Hall Auditorium. John Jezak, a thirty-four-year-old pharmacist, had decided to come after seeing the news out of Iowa. “I thought it would be super cool to be here tonight, being a supporter, and kind of seeing that energy,” he said. “I thought he’d be third.” Jezak, who lives in Bow with his wife and two kids, voted for Barack Obama in the 2008 Democratic primary, and John Kasich, a Republican, in 2016. “I was trying to get the anti-Trump,” he explained. “That failed.” He first saw Buttigieg at an event in October and “it clicked.” “I’m truly a moderate,” he told me. “It’s been harder and harder to be a moderate in current times.”


Your Milk-Preference Horoscope

You can ’ t shake a nagging sense of complicity in the water-intensive production of your favorite ovular nut , but don ’ t allow that or anything else to infiltrate the serenity of your home .
Avoid looking at your phone in bed and skip any articles with headlines including the words “ trade war , ” “ escalation , ” or “ impending disaster.
” Your newfound clarity could bring with it some unexpectedly lucrative freelance work ; when a surprise guest arrives around the twelfth , make sure to have hidden evidence of your recent Amazon purchases @ @ @ @ @ @ @ challenges—the new high-rise next to your community garden undercut your turnip yield , and the city ignored your requests to extend its composting program to your block .
With each glass you pour , let go of recent disappointments .
Play a second-hand Leonard Cohen album on the record player you ’ ve never previously used and take a moment to listen to yourself every time the needle skips .
If you ’ re feeling depleted mid-month , increase your calcium intake .
Your consistency is an admirable quality , but if the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to grate , be open to change .
Consider taking a break from Atkins , at least until the end of the month .
Then , a return to your no-carb regimen will help ease the gnawing sense that reruns of your favorite nineties sitcoms don ’ t stand up so well in 2020 .
When that happens , remember—you have never been in control of time .
Your impassioned political posts on social media have not gone unnoticed , but you know well that it is possible to indulge in too much @ @ @ @ @ @ @ before taking to the comments section , and while you ’ ve got your Moleskine open , make a list of everyone who has ever hurt you .
Call each of them and air your frustrations about the weakened Endangered Species Act .
Draw an analogy between them and the oil industry , casting yourself as the bald eagle .
There ’ s no doubt that you prefer to avoid extremes , but consider reducing your use of phrases like , “ I ’ m just not that political.
” Ask yourself , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” An additional dose of Vitamin D may help you reëvaluate your stance that structural obstacles to the American Dream are overstated .
Instead of gazing up at modernist art and grumbling , “ I could have made that , ” exit the halls of the gallery and enter the museum of the world .
Your friends often envy your predisposition for harmony , and you certainly had a knack for mindfulness long before they installed meditation apps .
Though you continue to take pleasure in the unity you feel sipping milk derived @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the world , this month you will find that the simple pleasures that once sustained you have lately had diminishing returns .
A string of near-misses breaking into a creative field such as video-game design has been an unmistakable setback , but do not let this stand in your way .
Begin studying for your real estate license and put out feelers for a place of your own .
As you master terms like “ adjustable-rate mortgage ” and “ escrow , ” you ’ ll be faced with new questions about @ @ @ @ @ @ @ or a condo at heart ?
Are you more of a garden unit , cozy and tucked out of sight , or do you , like the floor-through penthouse , long to be truly seen ?
While there ’ s nothing more satisfying to you than a well-monitored to-do list , do not mistake the victory of each crossed-off chore for true productivity .
Remember , not all tasks are created equal , and cleaning crumbs from the keys of your laptop is not the same thing as finishing your novel .
Rid @ @ @ @ @ @ @ life composed entirely of epiphanies .
If anyone knows true heartbreak , it ’ s you .
Your challenge this month is to realize that you deserve more from love than the human equivalent of an airy , acoustic song played before the commercial break of a network soap .
After years of hard work and the occasional consultation of a best-selling self-help book , you now enjoy the trappings of a shiny , non-specific office job .
But be wary of ruts that disguise themselves as routines .
Reconsider whether you ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gym membership .
If you have the urge to Google “ life ’ s meaning ” or “ what ’ s the point , ” get a dog .

Almond Milk
You can’t shake a nagging sense of complicity in the water-intensive production of your favorite ovular nut, but don’t allow that or anything else to infiltrate the serenity of your home. Avoid looking at your phone in bed and skip any articles with headlines including the words “trade war,” “escalation,” or “impending disaster.” Your newfound clarity could bring with it some unexpectedly lucrative freelance work; when a surprise guest arrives around the twelfth, make sure to have hidden evidence of your recent Amazon purchases.
Hemp Milk
Last month was not without its challenges—the new high-rise next to your community garden undercut your turnip yield, and the city ignored your requests to extend its composting program to your block. With each glass you pour, let go of recent disappointments. Play a second-hand Leonard Cohen album on the record player you’ve never previously used and take a moment to listen to yourself every time the needle skips. If you’re feeling depleted mid-month, increase your calcium intake.
Skim Milk
Your consistency is an admirable quality, but if the familiar trappings of your life have begun to grate, be open to change. Consider taking a break from Atkins, at least until the end of the month. Then, a return to your no-carb regimen will help ease the gnawing sense that reruns of your favorite nineties sitcoms don’t stand up so well in 2020. When that happens, remember—you have never been in control of time.
Coconut Milk
Your impassioned political posts on social media have not gone unnoticed, but you know well that it is possible to indulge in too much of a good thing. Consider journaling before taking to the comments section, and while you’ve got your Moleskine open, make a list of everyone who has ever hurt you. Call each of them and air your frustrations about the weakened Endangered Species Act. Draw an analogy between them and the oil industry, casting yourself as the bald eagle.
Two Per Cent
There’s no doubt that you prefer to avoid extremes, but consider reducing your use of phrases like, “I’m just not that political.” Ask yourself, instead, “Who am I?” An additional dose of Vitamin D may help you reëvaluate your stance that structural obstacles to the American Dream are overstated. Instead of gazing up at modernist art and grumbling, “I could have made that,” exit the halls of the gallery and enter the museum of the world.
Rice Milk
Your friends often envy your predisposition for harmony, and you certainly had a knack for mindfulness long before they installed meditation apps. Though you continue to take pleasure in the unity you feel sipping milk derived from a grain that feeds so much of the world, this month you will find that the simple pleasures that once sustained you have lately had diminishing returns.
Chocolate Milk
A string of near-misses breaking into a creative field such as video-game design has been an unmistakable setback, but do not let this stand in your way. Begin studying for your real estate license and put out feelers for a place of your own. As you master terms like “adjustable-rate mortgage” and “escrow,” you’ll be faced with new questions about your identity. Are you a co-op or a condo at heart? Are you more of a garden unit, cozy and tucked out of sight, or do you, like the floor-through penthouse, long to be truly seen?
Oat Milk
While there’s nothing more satisfying to you than a well-monitored to-do list, do not mistake the victory of each crossed-off chore for true productivity. Remember, not all tasks are created equal, and cleaning crumbs from the keys of your laptop is not the same thing as finishing your novel. Rid yourself of banal tasks and live a life composed entirely of epiphanies.
Soy Milk
If anyone knows true heartbreak, it’s you. Your challenge this month is to realize that you deserve more from love than the human equivalent of an airy, acoustic song played before the commercial break of a network soap.
Cashew Milk
After years of hard work and the occasional consultation of a best-selling self-help book, you now enjoy the trappings of a shiny, non-specific office job. But be wary of ruts that disguise themselves as routines. Reconsider whether you’re getting the most out of your gym membership. If you have the urge to Google “life’s meaning” or “what’s the point,” get a dog.


newyorker--2020-02-07--How the Coronavirus Has Tested China’s System of Information Control

Around 5 P.M. on December 30th , Li Wenliang , an ophthalmologist at Wuhan Central Hospital , messaged his college-classmates group on WeChat .
He told them that “ seven confirmed cases of SARS ” were in quarantine at the hospital , then followed up with a correction : it was an unspecified coronavirus , which later became known as 2019-nCoV .
Li wasn ’ t authorized to share the information , but he wanted to warn his former classmates—mostly fellow-physicians—so that they would know to protect themselves .
He asked them not to share the news outside the group @ @ @ @ @ @ @ screenshot , with Li ’ s name attached—throughout and beyond Hubei Province , of which Wuhan is the capital .
Li was irritated at first , but understanding .
Eight hours later , at one-thirty in the morning , Li received a phone call summoning him to the offices of the municipal health commission , where his superiors were attending an emergency conference ; there , hospital leadership questioned him about the WeChat message .
Later that day , while at work , Li was called to the “ inspection section ” —essentially @ @ @ @ @ @ @ which concerns itself with political transgressions , as opposed to professional ones—for more disciplinary meetings .
On January 3rd , Li ’ s local police station called and informed him that he was required to sign and fingerprint an admonition letter for spreading “ untrue speech.
” Meanwhile , CCTV , the primary state broadcaster , had reported that police had contacted eight people in Wuhan who had spread rumors about a new , SARS-like strain of pneumonia .
“ The Internet is not a land outside the law , ” the station @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Li treated a glaucoma patient who appeared to have an “ unidentified pneumonia.
” She had a fever , and a CT scan that showed telltale lesions on her lungs , known as ground-glass opacities .
Several of the patient ’ s family members had begun showing symptoms similar to hers .
On January 10th , Li began coughing ; he ran a fever the next day and was hospitalized , and was given a diagnosis of coronavirus .
The general public was still largely unaware of any outbreak .
It was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Jinping issued a statement on coronavirus , vowing to “ resolutely curb the spread of the epidemic.
” According to WeChat , which tracks usages of keywords on the platform , the index of mentions of “ pneumonia ” and “ coronavirus ” were in the low thousands just a couple of days before Xi ’ s announcement ; they then skyrocketed to more than two hundred million each .
On January 21st , the newspaper People ’ s Daily , an official organ of the Chinese Communist Party , reported two hundred @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Beijing , and Guangdong Province , and that the virus had spread to Japan , Thailand , and Korea .
It was five days before the Lunar New Year , and millions were planning on travelling home or on their way already .
On January 23rd , state media called on all Chinese families to cancel gatherings , and the government placed Wuhan on lockdown , halting all trains and flights from the city .
Soon , similar restrictions were placed on more than a dozen surrounding cities , limiting the free movement @ @ @ @ @ @ @ populace was urged to stay at home .
Li told his story anonymously to Beijing Youth Daily , a Party-affiliated newspaper , which published his account on January 27th and deleted it about an hour later .
The following day , the Chinese supreme court published an article on its WeChat account clearing the eight unnamed “ rumor-mongers ” in Wuhan of any wrongdoing .
“ Although the new coronavirus is not SARS , the information they distributed was not entirely made up , ” the court wrote .
“ Had the public @ @ @ @ @ @ @ time , and , out of fear of SARS , started to wear facial masks , sanitize themselves , and refrain from going to wildlife markets , it might have been beneficial for preventing and controlling the epidemic.
” An official from China ’ s Center for Disease Control and Prevention later offered public praise for the “ whistleblowers , ” as they were now called .
On January 31st , the Beijing-based magazine Caixin ran Li ’ s story using his real name .
“ A healthy society shouldn ’ t have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Caixin .
On the evening of February 6th , Li died , of complications of coronavirus .
His was one of 31,261 confirmed cases and 637 deaths to date , according to the official count .
Party media , including the Global Times , announced Li ’ s death .
Later that night , however , the phrase “ Li Wenliang is still being rescued ” began to trend on Weibo ; stories circulated that Li had been placed on extracorporeal life support ( E.C.M.O . )
, hours after his heart had @ @ @ @ @ @ @ media , pronounced him dead again early Friday morning .
Around 1 A.M. on February 7th , several variations of the hashtag “ We demand freedom of speech ” —a phrase previously unthinkable on the Chinese Internet—had appeared in more than ten thousand posts on Weibo and had gotten millions of views .
Also trending were quotes from the HBO series “ Chernobyl ” ( “ Every lie we tell incurs as a debt to the truth .
Sooner or later , that debt is paid ” ) and lyrics from “ Les @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the people sing , singing the songs of angry men ” ) .
Before daybreak in China , all versions of these hashtags , as well as numerous detailed discussions of Li ’ s death , had vanished from Weibo .
In their place , a message says , “ According to the relevant laws , regulations and policies , the page is not found.
” Because of heavy censorship and a tight , top-down control of information , people in China are habituated to be cautious and apolitical in their online behavior @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that conditioning .
People like Li felt an urgency to share what they knew , and news outlets felt similarly emboldened to report out the information that the public was demanding , in defiance of a state propaganda apparatus that stresses positivity—and , failing that , euphemism—at all times .
After President Xi ’ s statement on January 20th , WeChat spilled over almost instantly with information , rumors , and conspiracy theories : that coronavirus was spread by snakes ; that the American government had developed the virus as a biological weapon @ @ @ @ @ @ @ antibiotics or honeysuckle or urine .
Various public accounts on WeChat published Wuhan diaries and interviewed experts , including a Hong Kong epidemiologist who called on officials in Wuhan to “ get to the bottom of what ’ s the worst-case scenario.
” Caixin , known for its formidable investigative reporting , dispatched five staff reporters and two interns to Wuhan before the transportation ban took hold ; overwhelmed with traffic , its news app crashed multiple times over twenty-four hours .
( Last weekend , Caixin Weekly published an issue dedicated to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ not distribute the print magazines , owing to unspecified “ technical issues.
” ) “ In the past few years , since Xi started to regulate the Internet and control information and crack down on civil society—including many verified users with large followings—there have been fewer and fewer voices that question or criticize the government , and less and less discussion of public affairs , ” Xiao Qiang , the director of the Counter-Power Lab , at the University of California , Berkeley , which studies digital freedom and censorship , told me @ @ @ @ @ @ @ eruption of opinions since then .
”

Around 5 P.M. on December 30th, Li Wenliang, an ophthalmologist at Wuhan Central Hospital, messaged his college-classmates group on WeChat. He told them that “seven confirmed cases of SARS” were in quarantine at the hospital, then followed up with a correction: it was an unspecified coronavirus, which later became known as 2019-nCoV. Li wasn’t authorized to share the information, but he wanted to warn his former classmates—mostly fellow-physicians—so that they would know to protect themselves. He asked them not to share the news outside the group, but soon the chat had spread—via screenshot, with Li’s name attached—throughout and beyond Hubei Province, of which Wuhan is the capital. Li was irritated at first, but understanding.
Eight hours later, at one-thirty in the morning, Li received a phone call summoning him to the offices of the municipal health commission, where his superiors were attending an emergency conference; there, hospital leadership questioned him about the WeChat message. Later that day, while at work, Li was called to the “inspection section”—essentially a political arm of the hospital, which concerns itself with political transgressions, as opposed to professional ones—for more disciplinary meetings. On January 3rd, Li’s local police station called and informed him that he was required to sign and fingerprint an admonition letter for spreading “untrue speech.” Meanwhile, CCTV, the primary state broadcaster, had reported that police had contacted eight people in Wuhan who had spread rumors about a new, SARS-like strain of pneumonia. “The Internet is not a land outside the law,” the station warned its viewers.
The following week, Li treated a glaucoma patient who appeared to have an “unidentified pneumonia.” She had a fever, and a CT scan that showed telltale lesions on her lungs, known as ground-glass opacities. Several of the patient’s family members had begun showing symptoms similar to hers. On January 10th, Li began coughing; he ran a fever the next day and was hospitalized, and was given a diagnosis of coronavirus. The general public was still largely unaware of any outbreak.
It was not until January 20th that President Xi Jinping issued a statement on coronavirus, vowing to “resolutely curb the spread of the epidemic.” According to WeChat, which tracks usages of keywords on the platform, the index of mentions of “pneumonia” and “coronavirus” were in the low thousands just a couple of days before Xi’s announcement; they then skyrocketed to more than two hundred million each. On January 21st, the newspaper People’s Daily, an official organ of the Chinese Communist Party, reported two hundred and seventeen confirmed cases in Wuhan, Beijing, and Guangdong Province, and that the virus had spread to Japan, Thailand, and Korea. It was five days before the Lunar New Year, and millions were planning on travelling home or on their way already. On January 23rd, state media called on all Chinese families to cancel gatherings, and the government placed Wuhan on lockdown, halting all trains and flights from the city. Soon, similar restrictions were placed on more than a dozen surrounding cities, limiting the free movement of some thirty-five million people. The populace was urged to stay at home.
Li told his story anonymously to Beijing Youth Daily, a Party-affiliated newspaper, which published his account on January 27th and deleted it about an hour later. The following day, the Chinese supreme court published an article on its WeChat account clearing the eight unnamed “rumor-mongers” in Wuhan of any wrongdoing. “Although the new coronavirus is not SARS, the information they distributed was not entirely made up,” the court wrote. “Had the public heard this ‘rumor’ at the time, and, out of fear of SARS, started to wear facial masks, sanitize themselves, and refrain from going to wildlife markets, it might have been beneficial for preventing and controlling the epidemic.” An official from China’s Center for Disease Control and Prevention later offered public praise for the “whistleblowers,” as they were now called. On January 31st, the Beijing-based magazine Caixin ran Li’s story using his real name. “A healthy society shouldn’t have only one voice,” he told Caixin.
Li Wenliang, an ophthalmologist at Wuhan Central Hospital, warned others about coronavirus on WeChat. He died, of complications of coronavirus, on February 6th. Photograph from Getty
On the evening of February 6th, Li died, of complications of coronavirus. His was one of 31,261 confirmed cases and 637 deaths to date, according to the official count. Party media, including the Global Times, announced Li’s death. Later that night, however, the phrase “Li Wenliang is still being rescued” began to trend on Weibo; stories circulated that Li had been placed on extracorporeal life support (E.C.M.O.), hours after his heart had stopped. The hospital, and state media, pronounced him dead again early Friday morning. Around 1 A.M. on February 7th, several variations of the hashtag “We demand freedom of speech”—a phrase previously unthinkable on the Chinese Internet—had appeared in more than ten thousand posts on Weibo and had gotten millions of views. Also trending were quotes from the HBO series “Chernobyl” (“Every lie we tell incurs as a debt to the truth. Sooner or later, that debt is paid”) and lyrics from “Les Misérables” (“Do you hear the people sing, singing the songs of angry men”). Before daybreak in China, all versions of these hashtags, as well as numerous detailed discussions of Li’s death, had vanished from Weibo. In their place, a message says, “According to the relevant laws, regulations and policies, the page is not found.”
Because of heavy censorship and a tight, top-down control of information, people in China are habituated to be cautious and apolitical in their online behavior. But the coronavirus seemed to weaken that conditioning. People like Li felt an urgency to share what they knew, and news outlets felt similarly emboldened to report out the information that the public was demanding, in defiance of a state propaganda apparatus that stresses positivity—and, failing that, euphemism—at all times.
After President Xi’s statement on January 20th, WeChat spilled over almost instantly with information, rumors, and conspiracy theories: that coronavirus was spread by snakes; that the American government had developed the virus as a biological weapon; that it could be prevented with antibiotics or honeysuckle or urine. Various public accounts on WeChat published Wuhan diaries and interviewed experts, including a Hong Kong epidemiologist who called on officials in Wuhan to “get to the bottom of what’s the worst-case scenario.” Caixin, known for its formidable investigative reporting, dispatched five staff reporters and two interns to Wuhan before the transportation ban took hold; overwhelmed with traffic, its news app crashed multiple times over twenty-four hours. (Last weekend, Caixin Weekly published an issue dedicated to its Wuhan coverage online, but could not distribute the print magazines, owing to unspecified “technical issues.”)
“In the past few years, since Xi started to regulate the Internet and control information and crack down on civil society—including many verified users with large followings—there have been fewer and fewer voices that question or criticize the government, and less and less discussion of public affairs,” Xiao Qiang, the director of the Counter-Power Lab, at the University of California, Berkeley, which studies digital freedom and censorship, told me. “This is the first large-scale eruption of opinions since then.”
Videos circulated on Weibo and WeChat, showing miserably crowded hospital lobbies and overworked medics in states of apparent emotional breakdown. On Weibo, people posted distraught accounts of sick family members who could not gain admission to hospitals or obtain a test kit for 2019-nCoV; begging for help, many of them posted their phone numbers. The Hong Kong–based digital outlet Initium Media and China Newsweek, among others, published candid interviews with doctors in Wuhan. Chinese epidemiologists published articles in The Lancet, The New England Journal of Medicine, and the free platform bioRxiv, revealing information that included the genome of the virus and the early transmission dynamics. (Some of these reports convinced many that China’s Center for Disease Control and Prevention was aware of the nature of the outbreak weeks before January 20th.) Stories out of Hubei Province suggested that the Wuhan Red Cross was mishandling donations, as in a video that allegedly showed a local official absconding with a box of surgical masks—a much sought-after commodity. Chinese citizens and overseas Chinese swiftly organized themselves through chat groups, alumni networks, and other platforms to provide donations and volunteer services.
“If people are not angry enough, they don’t want to touch certain topics, because they prioritize safety,” Fang Kecheng, an assistant professor of communications at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, said. “But people are really angry now. And, when everyone is on the same page, they feel safer—the voice of criticism doesn’t stand out so much anymore.” Fang is generally pessimistic about the state of journalism in China, given the shrinking print industry and the mounting pressure from government censorship, but he was pleased to see the early reporting on Wuhan. “I was surprised to see a handful of quality outlets had the capacity to send professional journalists to cover something like this,” Fang said. “People were trying their best to break through the censorship.”
Although this recent wave of relatively free reporting and information sharing has been striking, it has not altered the system of information control in China—rather, it has temporarily overwhelmed it. Xiao told me that the degree of open exchange was due to the sheer volume of the response to the outbreak, and not to any relaxation of censorship. “The censors are advanced and aggressive. We saw many posts that were deleted soon after posting,” Xiao said. Xiao’s lab monitors widespread V.P.N. outages in China, which tend to happen during politically sensitive periods; a nationwide V.P.N. interruption began on the eve of the Lunar New Year and lasted about forty-eight hours. (The last disruption of this scale occurred in October, Xiao said, during celebrations for the seventieth anniversary of the founding of the Communist state.)
Internet censorship in China has two layers. First, most platforms, such as WeChat and Douyin—a Chinese analogue to TikTok—have automated censorship protocols to screen out “sensitive words”; they also use human content moderators, who operate according to government-issued guidelines. Then, once a post is live, if it reaches a large audience and a government censor objects to its content, the platform may be required to remove the post or limit its distribution.
In the wake of the coronavirus outbreak, it has been harder for censors at either of these stages to draw a clear line between what is permitted and what is not. In January, People’s Daily launched a reader survey on the Wuhan epidemic that was suspended by the survey platform Wenjuan Xing, owing to its containing “sensitive words.” A social-media editor at People’s Daily criticized the decision on WeChat, asking, “What’s wrong with this platform? Whether there is a sensitive word or not, wouldn’t I know better than you do?”
Guo Jing, a social worker who moved to Wuhan in November, for work, started a daily journal that she has been sharing on Weibo and WeChat. Her first entry on Weibo was shared thousands of times, but her following updates only received dozens of shares each. She told me that, for a while, she couldn’t receive friend requests on WeChat, and she also suspects that Weibo has limited the visibility of her posts. (Weibo’s algorithm is not transparent; certain posts seem to appear only if a follower goes to a user’s profile page.) On WeChat, another young woman shared the story of a brief reunion with her father, who was infected with coronavirus after nursing the woman’s dying mother; her account went viral, and, although WeChat did not delete it, it blocked it from being shared, citing a nonspecific violation of user rules.


newyorker--2020-02-07--Oscars 2020 Spotlight: The Best Picture Nominees

At the first Academy Awards , in 1929 , there were two top prizes .
The award for Outstanding Picture went to “ Wings , ” William Wellman ’ s dazzling airborne First World War epic , while the prize for Unique and Artistic Picture went to “ Sunrise : A Song of Two Humans , ” a warped domestic thriller from the German Expressionist director F. W. Murnau .
Ninety-one years later , the Oscars still echo the same tensions : between the spectacular and the intimate , between roaring technical achievements and quieter innovations in style .
This @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , after all , are a technologically ambitious First World War epic ( “ 1917 ” ) and a warped domestic thriller by a foreign director ( “ Parasite ” ) .
The Academy , meanwhile , is still navigating its place in Hollywood ’ s perennial tug-of-war between art and commerce .
Witness the plan , announced in 2018 and quickly rescinded , to introduce a category for best “ popular ” film .
That came eight years after the Academy expanded the number of Best Picture nominations from five to as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ The Dark Knight ” failing to get a nod .
Now , in a promise self-fulfilled , a billion-dollar blockbuster from the Batman franchise has made the list , in the grimacing form of “ Joker.
” But will that make the Oscars any more relevant than , say , 2017 , when “ Moonlight ” ( after some confusion ) snatched victory from the jaws of “ La La Land ” ?
And what will it portend for the industry if Netflix , represented by “ The Irishman ” and “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ win the grand prize , after it came so close last year , with “ Roma ” ?
If there ’ s a theme running through this year ’ s nine nominees , it may be the past—how it recurs and refracts and never stays still .
“ The Irishman ” glances back with ambivalence at the swinging heyday of hitmen and Motown , “ Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood ” at the queasy summer of 1969 .
“ Little Women ” spikes a nineteenth-century novel with twenty-first-century defiance .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ straight out of the grimy Ed Koch era .
“ 1917 ” eyes the First World War battlefield from a new angle—just over the shoulder—while “ Jojo Rabbit ” blows a raspberry at Nazis .
Even “ Marriage Story ” is haunted by the marriage in its title , which precedes the events of the film .
And then there ’ s “ Ford v Ferrari , ” a back issue of Esquire turned sentient .
Only “ Parasite ” seems free of nostalgia , tarnished or otherwise .
It ’ s too @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Who will win ?
Let ’ s take one last peek at the contenders .
It ’ s a testament to the twists and turns of Oscar season that “ The Irishman ” isn ’ t this year ’ s incontestable front-runner .
A three-and-a-half-hour Martin Scorsese epic that brings together Robert De Niro , Al Pacino , and Joe Pesci for one more joyride through the land of guns and golden oldies ?
A reported hundred-and-sixty-million-dollar budget , which paid for state-of-the-art effects that rewound the clock on some of the most @ @ @ @ @ @ @ like the grand gesture that would clear the field for Netflix , which picked up the project after Paramount declined to foot the bill .
And yet , after the film won honors in early December from the National Board of Review and the New York Film Critics Circle , its awards momentum slowed .
Go figure .
“ The Irishman ” has the melancholy soul of an old man who ’ s seen his world come and go , but it moves and gleams like a vintage Chevrolet .
Speaking of cars @ @ @ @ @ @ @ !
!
!
!
!
!
Hoooooooo-boooooooy !
!
Did you see how fast the cars move in this thing ?
!
?
!
?
Ha ha ha !
!
Vrrroooooooom !
Months after its release , the concept still stuns : a cute little tyke , who happens to be in the Hitler Youth , dreams up the Führer as an imaginary friend .
Taika Waititi not only wrote and directed this stone-faced satire , he also played the child ’ s-eye Hitler , in the antic tradition of “ Drop Dead @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the film ’ s zany take on Nazism really lands in an age when far-right extremism is making a global comeback , but it ’ s hard to see how anyone could get the wrong message : indoctrination is insidious , and we ’ re all susceptible to brainwashing ( and capable of deprogramming ) .
“ Jojo Rabbit ” is a tricky proposition , and kudos to Waititi for daring to put it onscreen .
If you prefer parables that beat you bloody with the obvious , however , look no further @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s movie managed to win the Golden Lion award at the Venice International Film Festival , make a billion bucks , turn a grotty staircase in the Bronx into a tourist attraction , and rack up eleven Oscar nominations , the most of any film this year .
So why does its ascendance feel like a hostile takeover ?
When it opened , some feared it would inspire mass violence .
Instead , it just seems like a sour time capsule : in the year 2019 , an origin story about a homicidal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it would be wrong to call “ Joker ” a Trumpian fantasy of white male grievance .
If anything , its politics resemble old-fashioned bleeding-heart liberalism : every down-and-out murderer is the product of neglectful parents , a fraying social safety net , poor health care , and income inequality .
If Ronald Reagan were alive , he ’ d run against it .
Greta Gerwig , the mumblecore starlet turned A-list director , gave Hollywood its fourth major adaptation of the Louisa May Alcott novel in the last century , which is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had since 2008 .
Since its release , its admirers have worried that men—including men who vote for awards—have been giving the movie a pass .
Gerwig ’ s absence from the Academy ’ s best-director list appeared to back up that unsettling theory .
Nevertheless , the movie is arriving at Oscar weekend with a hundred million dollars in domestic grosses , meaning that plenty of women ( and men ) knew where to find it .
Gerwig ’ s take on Alcott felt fresh and timely and not the least bit @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the act of adaptation .
“ Little Women ” has a good chance of winning a screenplay award for Gerwig , but it is an underdog in the Best Picture race , where it stands alone as a female-driven film .
Oh , and look : Gerwig ’ s boyfriend has a movie , too !
I first saw Noah Baumbach ’ s “ Marriage Story ” in an empty screening room , on my way to meet Adam Driver , and its raw ache was impossible to shake off .
But so @ @ @ @ @ @ @ true Baumbach fashion , is inextricable from its pain : the machinery of divorce is just that awful and absurd .
In some sense , “ Marriage Story ” feels like a throwback to the kind of chamber family dramas Hollywood made four decades ago , when “ Kramer vs. Kramer ” ( 1979 ) was both the biggest domestic moneymaker of that year and the Best Picture winner .
( The only film that has achieved that since is “ Titanic.
” ) Like “ Kramer , ” “ Marriage Story ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in people who once loved each other , and on some level still do , even as they strive to become functioning co-parents .
Laura Dern , as a power-suited divorce lawyer , is all but certain to win best supporting actress .
But the breadth of talents that Baumbach corralled shouldn ’ t be overlooked , including his own ; it ’ s his best film since “ The Squid and the Whale , ” another quasiautobiographical tale of love lost and family divided .

At the first Academy Awards, in 1929, there were two top prizes. The award for Outstanding Picture went to “Wings,” William Wellman’s dazzling airborne First World War epic, while the prize for Unique and Artistic Picture went to “Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans,” a warped domestic thriller from the German Expressionist director F. W. Murnau. Ninety-one years later, the Oscars still echo the same tensions: between the spectacular and the intimate, between roaring technical achievements and quieter innovations in style. This year’s front-runners for Best Picture, after all, are a technologically ambitious First World War epic (“1917”) and a warped domestic thriller by a foreign director (“Parasite”).
The Academy, meanwhile, is still navigating its place in Hollywood’s perennial tug-of-war between art and commerce. Witness the plan, announced in 2018 and quickly rescinded, to introduce a category for best “popular” film. That came eight years after the Academy expanded the number of Best Picture nominations from five to as many as ten, in response to “The Dark Knight” failing to get a nod. Now, in a promise self-fulfilled, a billion-dollar blockbuster from the Batman franchise has made the list, in the grimacing form of “Joker.” But will that make the Oscars any more relevant than, say, 2017, when “Moonlight” (after some confusion) snatched victory from the jaws of “La La Land”? And what will it portend for the industry if Netflix, represented by “The Irishman” and “Marriage Story,” finally manages to win the grand prize, after it came so close last year, with “Roma”?
If there’s a theme running through this year’s nine nominees, it may be the past—how it recurs and refracts and never stays still. “The Irishman” glances back with ambivalence at the swinging heyday of hitmen and Motown, “Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood” at the queasy summer of 1969. “Little Women” spikes a nineteenth-century novel with twenty-first-century defiance. “Joker” gives us a Gotham City straight out of the grimy Ed Koch era. “1917” eyes the First World War battlefield from a new angle—just over the shoulder—while “Jojo Rabbit” blows a raspberry at Nazis. Even “Marriage Story” is haunted by the marriage in its title, which precedes the events of the film. And then there’s “Ford v Ferrari,” a back issue of Esquire turned sentient. Only “Parasite” seems free of nostalgia, tarnished or otherwise. It’s too rabid with hunger to look back.
Who will win? Let’s take one last peek at the contenders.
“The Irishman”
It’s a testament to the twists and turns of Oscar season that “The Irishman” isn’t this year’s incontestable front-runner. A three-and-a-half-hour Martin Scorsese epic that brings together Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, and Joe Pesci for one more joyride through the land of guns and golden oldies? A reported hundred-and-sixty-million-dollar budget, which paid for state-of-the-art effects that rewound the clock on some of the most famous faces in cinema? It seemed like the grand gesture that would clear the field for Netflix, which picked up the project after Paramount declined to foot the bill. And yet, after the film won honors in early December from the National Board of Review and the New York Film Critics Circle, its awards momentum slowed. Go figure. “The Irishman” has the melancholy soul of an old man who’s seen his world come and go, but it moves and gleams like a vintage Chevrolet. Speaking of cars . . .
Photograph by Merrick Morton
“Ford v Ferrari”
Vrrroooooooom! VROOOOOOOOM!!!!!!! Hoooooooo-boooooooy!! Did you see how fast the cars move in this thing?!?!? Ha ha ha!! Vrrroooooooom!
“Jojo Rabbit”
Months after its release, the concept still stuns: a cute little tyke, who happens to be in the Hitler Youth, dreams up the Führer as an imaginary friend. Taika Waititi not only wrote and directed this stone-faced satire, he also played the child’s-eye Hitler, in the antic tradition of “Drop Dead Fred.” Opinions differed as to whether the film’s zany take on Nazism really lands in an age when far-right extremism is making a global comeback, but it’s hard to see how anyone could get the wrong message: indoctrination is insidious, and we’re all susceptible to brainwashing (and capable of deprogramming). “Jojo Rabbit” is a tricky proposition, and kudos to Waititi for daring to put it onscreen. If you prefer parables that beat you bloody with the obvious, however, look no further than . . .
Photograph by Niko Tavernise
“Joker”
Todd Phillips’s movie managed to win the Golden Lion award at the Venice International Film Festival, make a billion bucks, turn a grotty staircase in the Bronx into a tourist attraction, and rack up eleven Oscar nominations, the most of any film this year. So why does its ascendance feel like a hostile takeover? When it opened, some feared it would inspire mass violence. Instead, it just seems like a sour time capsule: in the year 2019, an origin story about a homicidal clown really got us. Still, it would be wrong to call “Joker” a Trumpian fantasy of white male grievance. If anything, its politics resemble old-fashioned bleeding-heart liberalism: every down-and-out murderer is the product of neglectful parents, a fraying social safety net, poor health care, and income inequality. If Ronald Reagan were alive, he’d run against it.
“Little Women”
Greta Gerwig, the mumblecore starlet turned A-list director, gave Hollywood its fourth major adaptation of the Louisa May Alcott novel in the last century, which is still less Batman than we’ve had since 2008. Since its release, its admirers have worried that men—including men who vote for awards—have been giving the movie a pass. Gerwig’s absence from the Academy’s best-director list appeared to back up that unsettling theory. Nevertheless, the movie is arriving at Oscar weekend with a hundred million dollars in domestic grosses, meaning that plenty of women (and men) knew where to find it. Gerwig’s take on Alcott felt fresh and timely and not the least bit redundant, an adaptation that slyly interrogated the act of adaptation. “Little Women” has a good chance of winning a screenplay award for Gerwig, but it is an underdog in the Best Picture race, where it stands alone as a female-driven film.
“Marriage Story”
Oh, and look: Gerwig’s boyfriend has a movie, too! I first saw Noah Baumbach’s “Marriage Story” in an empty screening room, on my way to meet Adam Driver, and its raw ache was impossible to shake off. But so was its humor, which, in true Baumbach fashion, is inextricable from its pain: the machinery of divorce is just that awful and absurd. In some sense, “Marriage Story” feels like a throwback to the kind of chamber family dramas Hollywood made four decades ago, when “Kramer vs. Kramer” (1979) was both the biggest domestic moneymaker of that year and the Best Picture winner. (The only film that has achieved that since is “Titanic.”) Like “Kramer,” “Marriage Story” reveals how divorce brings out the ugliest in people who once loved each other, and on some level still do, even as they strive to become functioning co-parents. Laura Dern, as a power-suited divorce lawyer, is all but certain to win best supporting actress. But the breadth of talents that Baumbach corralled shouldn’t be overlooked, including his own; it’s his best film since “The Squid and the Whale,” another quasiautobiographical tale of love lost and family divided.
Photograph Courtesy Universal Pictures
“1917”


newyorker--2020-02-07--The Sweet, Silly “Mythic Quest” Is “The Office” for Game Developers

“ Mythic Quest : Raven ’ s Banquet ” is an old-school workplace comedy , set behind the scenes of a multiplayer online role-playing game .
It airs on Apple TV+ , so its vision of tech-sector dysfunction might demonstrate capitalism ’ s deftness at absorbing critique .
The show addresses anxieties about digital tyranny with a few satirical pinpricks , in the course of unevenly excavating humor from open-plan angst , casual sexism , and inadequate management skills ; it ’ s most powerful when dealing in pettiness .
The success of the game “ Mythic Quest , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ such entertainment in the history of human endeavor , defines the stakes of the show , and the tenor of the game play—seen in flashes of botched world-building , goofy glitches , and heavy-metal digital mayhem—reflects the tone of the office environment .
The M.Q .
team is led by Ian Grimm , played by Rob McElhenney ( who created the show alongside Charlie Day and Megan Ganz ) , who wears a beard evocative of Twitter ’ s Jack Dorsey and a stack of leather bracelets that could belong to some boho @ @ @ @ @ @ @ swagger into his office is to know that he has been told too often that he is a visionary .
This particular compound of grandiosity and insecurity is an artisanal microbrew , and McElhenney does good work clowning his eyebrows into attitudes expressive of pure contempt and unsteady comprehension .
Ian spends his days fending off the best ideas of Poppy ( Charlotte Nicdao ) , his chief programmer ; forming strategic alliances with a worm-spined project manager ( David Hornsby ) ; and tending to the demands of his ego .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the game is set to launch , and Ian , undermining the competency of his underlings , decides to introduce a further new element to the relaunch .
It is a shovel—a blunt object that each main character wields strong feelings about , revealing the sweet silliness at the heart of the show .
Ian imagines the shovel as a resource to give players the power to alter the landscape of their fantasies .
We understand it as a Michael Scott-like bit of meddling .
Soon , as predicted , the players @ @ @ @ @ @ @ penis-shaped trenches .
Later , a superstar gaming streamer—a fourteen-year-old whose handle is Pootie Shoe—is wooed to rave about the development to his audience : “ exploding people ’ s heads with this thing is straight fire.
” Ultimately—in an early indication of the fine , old-fashioned , morally improving sappiness of “ Mythic Quest ” —Ian and Poppy reach a compromise in time for an on-the-beat resolution .
Though the characters are ill-tempered , the show comprises generally good-natured tales of competing egos and angry compromises .
F. Murray Abraham plays a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ holds the trophy commemorating his Nebula award as if brandishing some rusty amulet—whose job is to sit around Joseph Campbelling together narratives for the game .
His own narrative function is to be a kind of cuddly mascot ; the show sighs at his treacly invocations of “ the power of story.
” Both the show and the game are indoor sports .
If characters leave the office , it is only to materialize in another sterile space—the floor of a convention center or the headquarters of a competitor .
There are , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ shots to speak of or any domestic interiors at all—we have no idea where these people go when they storm out in a huff .
This choice seems less like a matter of conservative budgeting than of thematic unity .
These people have no lives outside of work ; the only romance in sight concerns one game tester ’ s slow-boil crush on another , who tries hard to focus on her job , explaining , “ We should probably get back to work because , you know , they track our eyeballs.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ the critique .
Many of the show ’ s darkest moments arrive by way of a new assistant named Jo ( Jessie Ennis ) , who pairs a mouse-brown demeanor with a white-fang ferocity of mind .
She ’ s the one consistent voice of lunatic viciousness in a series that sometimes treats sociopathic behavior as a charming foible .
Attracted to drama , seeming to fancy herself a native citizen of a fantasy universe , she exemplifies the mean streak of “ Mythic Quest ” and adds an interesting strangeness .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , often , like a fondly teasing commentary on people who use “ Game of Thrones ” as a lens for understanding their own cubicle intrigues .

“Mythic Quest: Raven’s Banquet” is an old-school workplace comedy, set behind the scenes of a multiplayer online role-playing game. It airs on Apple TV+, so its vision of tech-sector dysfunction might demonstrate capitalism’s deftness at absorbing critique. The show addresses anxieties about digital tyranny with a few satirical pinpricks, in the course of unevenly excavating humor from open-plan angst, casual sexism, and inadequate management skills; it’s most powerful when dealing in pettiness.
The success of the game “Mythic Quest,” which is posited as the most popular such entertainment in the history of human endeavor, defines the stakes of the show, and the tenor of the game play—seen in flashes of botched world-building, goofy glitches, and heavy-metal digital mayhem—reflects the tone of the office environment. The M.Q. team is led by Ian Grimm, played by Rob McElhenney (who created the show alongside Charlie Day and Megan Ganz), who wears a beard evocative of Twitter’s Jack Dorsey and a stack of leather bracelets that could belong to some boho tech-bro tribal warlord. To see him swagger into his office is to know that he has been told too often that he is a visionary. This particular compound of grandiosity and insecurity is an artisanal microbrew, and McElhenney does good work clowning his eyebrows into attitudes expressive of pure contempt and unsteady comprehension.
Ian spends his days fending off the best ideas of Poppy (Charlotte Nicdao), his chief programmer; forming strategic alliances with a worm-spined project manager (David Hornsby); and tending to the demands of his ego. The series picks up as a long-planned expansion of the game is set to launch, and Ian, undermining the competency of his underlings, decides to introduce a further new element to the relaunch. It is a shovel—a blunt object that each main character wields strong feelings about, revealing the sweet silliness at the heart of the show.
Ian imagines the shovel as a resource to give players the power to alter the landscape of their fantasies. We understand it as a Michael Scott-like bit of meddling. Soon, as predicted, the players are employing these nonsensical shovels to dig penis-shaped trenches. Later, a superstar gaming streamer—a fourteen-year-old whose handle is Pootie Shoe—is wooed to rave about the development to his audience: “exploding people’s heads with this thing is straight fire.” Ultimately—in an early indication of the fine, old-fashioned, morally improving sappiness of “Mythic Quest”—Ian and Poppy reach a compromise in time for an on-the-beat resolution. Though the characters are ill-tempered, the show comprises generally good-natured tales of competing egos and angry compromises. F. Murray Abraham plays a faded genre novelist—at one point, he holds the trophy commemorating his Nebula award as if brandishing some rusty amulet—whose job is to sit around Joseph Campbelling together narratives for the game. His own narrative function is to be a kind of cuddly mascot; the show sighs at his treacly invocations of “the power of story.”
Both the show and the game are indoor sports. If characters leave the office, it is only to materialize in another sterile space—the floor of a convention center or the headquarters of a competitor. There are, through ten half-hour episodes, no exterior shots to speak of or any domestic interiors at all—we have no idea where these people go when they storm out in a huff. This choice seems less like a matter of conservative budgeting than of thematic unity. These people have no lives outside of work; the only romance in sight concerns one game tester’s slow-boil crush on another, who tries hard to focus on her job, explaining, “We should probably get back to work because, you know, they track our eyeballs.” The clammy atmosphere is key to the critique.
Many of the show’s darkest moments arrive by way of a new assistant named Jo (Jessie Ennis), who pairs a mouse-brown demeanor with a white-fang ferocity of mind. She’s the one consistent voice of lunatic viciousness in a series that sometimes treats sociopathic behavior as a charming foible. Attracted to drama, seeming to fancy herself a native citizen of a fantasy universe, she exemplifies the mean streak of “Mythic Quest” and adds an interesting strangeness. The show gains a curious texture for seeming, often, like a fondly teasing commentary on people who use “Game of Thrones” as a lens for understanding their own cubicle intrigues.


newyorker--2020-02-07--Daily Cartoon: Friday, February 7th

Daily Cartoon: Friday, February 7th

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“In my dream I’m in a large auditorium, surrounded by people. They’re all looking at me—and that’s when I realize I’m completely naked.”


newyorker--2020-02-07--On the Trail: Making Sense of the Iowa-Caucuses Mess

The 2020 Iowa caucuses will be remembered as a mess .
First , the app that the Iowa Democratic Party purchased so that caucus organizers could report the night ’ s vote tallies broke down , forcing the Party to delay releasing the results .
Then , the Party proceeded to parcel the results out in chunks over the ensuing days , only to end up having to retract and amend some of those partial figures , as errors in the data were identified .
There was confusion , and there was a data vacuum .
Pete Buttigieg , who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ leaving Iowa “ victorious.
” Joe Biden ’ s campaign , which underperformed , made noise about the delayed results and “ quality control.
” The Times published an article headlined , simply , “ Here ’ s a List of Everything That Went Wrong at the Iowa Caucuses.
” As of Thursday , when I ’ m writing this , we still don ’ t have a hundred per cent of the numbers from Monday night .
( And we may not have truly final results for some time longer : early @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the head of the Democratic National Committee , called for a retallying of the results . )
What ’ s clear is that the Iowa caucuses ended up being a very close contest between Bernie Sanders and Buttigieg , and , despite Buttigieg ’ s “ victorious ” caucus-night speech , Sanders may well wind up edging him out to claim victory .
( Or not . )
Elizabeth Warren came in third , and Biden came in fourth , with Amy Klobuchar not far behind him .
Of the four early-voting states @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of their attention this past year .
New Hampshire and South Carolina looked favorable to Sanders and Biden , respectively , and Nevada was barely talked about .
Which makes it particularly weird that the results from Iowa will now , in many ways , be dismissed as a wash , or unknowable .
Sanders ’ s supporters , in particular , are right to feel that the spoils of victory were denied to them—in the media , at least .
Sanders is benefitting from a fund-raising surge and looks strong in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Iowa wasn ’ t “ Bernie , Front-Runner ” —it was “ Iowa , Catastrophe.
” His campaign is understandably proud that its high Iowa finish came thanks to strong support from minority voters , whom it made a point of appealing to in the overwhelmingly white state .
There ’ s another aspect of the results that I think got lost in all of the craziness : for the past few weeks , Sanders was telling his supporters , explicitly , that turnout was crucial .
“ On caucus night , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is high , we win , ” he said at a rally in Ames last month .
“ If somebody tells you turnout is pretty low , we lose.
” On Monday , turnout turned out to be middling .
Sanders may have won , anyway .
I don ’ t know what to make of that .
( Anybody out there have any ideas ? )
My colleagues have been doing a good job of making sense of the different aspects of the Iowa-caucus aftermath .
In a twist out of some @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out that the app at the center of Iowa ’ s caucus meltdown was made by a company called Shadow , which in turn is an offshoot of a political nonprofit named Acronym .
The New Yorker ’ s Andrew Marantz just happened to have stopped by Acronym ’ s offices a few weeks ago , before all of this happened , and wrote a piece about the veteran Democratic operative behind the outfit , whom he described as “ a starry-eyed techno-utopian , prone to believing that a wide array of societal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , another round of investment , or another app.
” Meanwhile , Sue Halpern , who has been sounding the alarm about the shoddy state of election infrastructure for years , broke down how this all came to be and what should be done about it .
For a start , she wrote , “ The United States needs to move away from having for-profit companies running elections , prohibit candidates from funding companies that also supply election technology for primaries and general elections , and provide sufficient training for poll workers , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and the outcome.
” Before I left Iowa , on Wednesday , I spoke to a number of Iowans distraught over what had happened and what was being said about their state and its political processes .
The caucuses themselves , in high-school gyms and libraries and town halls , had gone smoothly .
The results would come out eventually .
This demand for an Election Night that starts with uncertainty and ends with resolution is an arbitrary modern creation of the media , and of television news , in particular .
I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ not with their conclusions .
The primary process is arbitrary .
Iowa going first is arbitrary .
These aren ’ t constitutionally mandated aspects of American self-government : the parties hold primaries to build momentum around their candidates , to project confidence and competence , to create the justification for a nomination .
After the Democratic Presidential candidates spent months campaigning and millions of dollars , the results from Iowa won ’ t help those ends .
There ’ s no other way to look at it .

The 2020 Iowa caucuses will be remembered as a mess. First, the app that the Iowa Democratic Party purchased so that caucus organizers could report the night’s vote tallies broke down, forcing the Party to delay releasing the results. Then, the Party proceeded to parcel the results out in chunks over the ensuing days, only to end up having to retract and amend some of those partial figures, as errors in the data were identified. There was confusion, and there was a data vacuum. Pete Buttigieg, who outperformed expectations, declared that he was leaving Iowa “victorious.” Joe Biden’s campaign, which underperformed, made noise about the delayed results and “quality control.” The Times published an article headlined, simply, “Here’s a List of Everything That Went Wrong at the Iowa Caucuses.”
As of Thursday, when I’m writing this, we still don’t have a hundred per cent of the numbers from Monday night. (And we may not have truly final results for some time longer: early on Thursday afternoon, Tom Perez, the head of the Democratic National Committee, called for a retallying of the results.) What’s clear is that the Iowa caucuses ended up being a very close contest between Bernie Sanders and Buttigieg, and, despite Buttigieg’s “victorious” caucus-night speech, Sanders may well wind up edging him out to claim victory. (Or not.) Elizabeth Warren came in third, and Biden came in fourth, with Amy Klobuchar not far behind him.
Of the four early-voting states, Iowa was where Democrats focussed most of their attention this past year. New Hampshire and South Carolina looked favorable to Sanders and Biden, respectively, and Nevada was barely talked about. Which makes it particularly weird that the results from Iowa will now, in many ways, be dismissed as a wash, or unknowable. Sanders’s supporters, in particular, are right to feel that the spoils of victory were denied to them—in the media, at least. Sanders is benefitting from a fund-raising surge and looks strong in the upcoming states, but the story out of Iowa wasn’t “Bernie, Front-Runner”—it was “Iowa, Catastrophe.” His campaign is understandably proud that its high Iowa finish came thanks to strong support from minority voters, whom it made a point of appealing to in the overwhelmingly white state. There’s another aspect of the results that I think got lost in all of the craziness: for the past few weeks, Sanders was telling his supporters, explicitly, that turnout was crucial. “On caucus night, if somebody tells you that the turnout is high, we win,” he said at a rally in Ames last month. “If somebody tells you turnout is pretty low, we lose.” On Monday, turnout turned out to be middling. Sanders may have won, anyway. I don’t know what to make of that. (Anybody out there have any ideas?)
My colleagues have been doing a good job of making sense of the different aspects of the Iowa-caucus aftermath. In a twist out of some kind of cheap potboiler, it turned out that the app at the center of Iowa’s caucus meltdown was made by a company called Shadow, which in turn is an offshoot of a political nonprofit named Acronym. The New Yorker’s Andrew Marantz just happened to have stopped by Acronym’s offices a few weeks ago, before all of this happened, and wrote a piece about the veteran Democratic operative behind the outfit, whom he described as “a starry-eyed techno-utopian, prone to believing that a wide array of societal ills can be cured by another innovation, another round of investment, or another app.” Meanwhile, Sue Halpern, who has been sounding the alarm about the shoddy state of election infrastructure for years, broke down how this all came to be and what should be done about it. For a start, she wrote, “The United States needs to move away from having for-profit companies running elections, prohibit candidates from funding companies that also supply election technology for primaries and general elections, and provide sufficient training for poll workers, who are the intermediaries between the voters and the outcome.”
Before I left Iowa, on Wednesday, I spoke to a number of Iowans distraught over what had happened and what was being said about their state and its political processes. The caucuses themselves, in high-school gyms and libraries and town halls, had gone smoothly. The results would come out eventually. This demand for an Election Night that starts with uncertainty and ends with resolution is an arbitrary modern creation of the media, and of television news, in particular. I could sympathize with their frustration, but not with their conclusions. The primary process is arbitrary. Iowa going first is arbitrary. These aren’t constitutionally mandated aspects of American self-government: the parties hold primaries to build momentum around their candidates, to project confidence and competence, to create the justification for a nomination. After the Democratic Presidential candidates spent months campaigning and millions of dollars, the results from Iowa won’t help those ends. There’s no other way to look at it.