'Arrival' is the kind of movie we need more of

They're trying to figure out if it's a cookbook

It's pretty amazing that Arrival got made.

Arrival is a patient, cerebral, action-light, hard sci-fi drama. It's not based on a popular (comic) book, a video game, a toy, or any other of the pre-branded properties so in vogue in Hollywood these days, but on a patient, cerebral, action-light, hard sci-fi short story called "Story of Your Life" by Ted Chiang. It's helmed by an accomplished but relatively obscure director (Denis Villeneuve, of Prisoners, Sicario, and, next-up, Blade Runner 2049, a 2017 Blade Runner sequel returning Harrison Ford). It has a production budget of about $50 million, chump change by modern Hollywood major studio standards. It stars three great actors (Amy Adams, Jeremy Renner, and Forest Whitaker), none of whom, however, is known to be a reliable box-office draw. All this, and it somehow got a semi-wide theatrical release from Paramount Pictures, a major Hollywood studio.

And thank goodness it did. 

Arrival is about the sudden appearance on Earth of 12 gigantic, monolithic extraterrestrial craft, and Earth's attempts to figure out why they are here. The action focuses on America's efforts, spearheaded by linguist Luise Banks (Adams), theoretical physicist Ian Donnelly (Renner), and overseen by Colonel Weber (Whitaker). The aliens do not appear to be hostile. But Banks' team has to face a different enemy: the language barrier. It's hard enough to communicate with a human being when neither of you knows the other's language. Imagine trying to establish communication with another intelligent species, one that, it turns out, thinks in an entirely different way from you.

Especially when it could be a cookbook?

As I've said, it's a heady premise. But Arrival does great work with it. Unlike a large portion of alien-based sci-fi, there is no real horror. The dominating sentiments are, instead, mostly awe and mystery, as Banks' team goes to work trying to knock down the biggest language barrier in history. Adams' subtle portrayal of Banks gives her a confident intelligence, underscored by an emotional vulnerability that makes her character more than some kind of unflappable genius wunderkind. Her interplay and rapport with Renner's wise-cracking physicist excel as the movie's central relationship, driving the plot and intensifying credibly as the narrative advances.

Other aspects of Arrival elevate it above typical genre fare. Villeneuve belongs to that dying race of director capable of letting the camera linger and of framing a shot. The fact that camera tricks and filming choices keep the aliens themselves mostly hidden throughout the movie suggests this may have been partly for budgetary reasons, but we don't get a full shot of the half-football shaped alien ships until almost 20-30 minutes into the movie. And the payoff is worth it: The first craft we see is suspended just above a green plain, lightly draped with fog, and set against a bare sky. It's a memorable shot, one that also serves as an audacious audition for a place in the annals of iconic sci-fi imagery. Other scenes also supply worthy submissions: a hardly-novel but still-impressive playing with gravity and perspective, for example.    

The first real glimpse of  an alien ship in Arrival

I think it compares well to this iconic shot from 2001: A Space Odyssey, for example

The movie also dabbles in other thoughtful ideas, most of them proceeding from its central theme of communication: its difficulty, its breakdown, its meaning, its purpose. Some of this, unfortunately, gets swept up in a narrative that would have been content to linger for much longer than the movie we got, and some of it is made too explicit in scenes of over-exposition.

But the main flaw of Arrival, if there is one, comes from how much of the narrative is subsumed by an admittedly clever twist that comes at the end (and whose nature I shan't reveal here). Maybe I'm just too genre-savvy. But I was hoping that the movie was going somewhere other than where it went, even when I began to get a (correct) sense of its ultimate direction before the dramatic reveal. The journey to that place is still enjoyable, though--and probably even more so upon a second viewing--even if the destination left me a bit dissatisfied.    

So, yes, Arrival isn't perfect. But it's pretty good. I'd give it a positive review even if I weren't biased in favor of not only this type of movie, but also of seeing as many of this type of movie (the 2001: A  Space Odyssey, Interstellar, 10 Cloverfield Lane genre) in theaters as possible. In an age when studios and audiences alike seem to demand pre-branded, thought-lite properties, Arrival is an incredible gift, and I'm grateful for it. And if you take my advice and see it yourself, I think you'll be grateful as well.

As fall comes to a close, watch "Over the Garden Wall"

Led through the mist, by the milk light of moon...

For as long as I can remember, fall has been my favorite season. It cemented its status as such thanks to the years I spent running cross country, a fall sport and the best sport (my favorite anyway), one that pretty much defined my existence for nearly a decade.

But I think what cross country really did for me was point out and magnify what already were the best parts of fall. I think of the weather--humid at first, but then cool, breezy, pleasant. Of the incipience it usually brings on: I still think of the start of the school year as the real start of the year, not New Year's Day (which has always been more of a halfway point for me). Of fall sports: mostly cross county and college football (and the NFL, though college football has always been more interesting to me). Of pumpkins, corn mazes, apple cider, open fires, the smells, and Halloween. And the leaves. How could I forget the leaves? Their changing colors mark the progress of fall, and bring a dappled, warm-color beauty to any area with trees, and to any ground below those trees (though raking is a pain, leaf piles bring their own fun). I could go on about the greatness fall forever.

But there's also always been a kind of indescribable, ineffable melancholy to fall. I'm typically happy during it, to be sure. Yet the cause of the beauty that marks fall is, essentially, the dying of nature, in preparation for winter, when things will truly be dead. In the day that is our seasonal year, autumn is the evening twilight, that last glimpse of nature's sublimity before the coming of night (which may be why the twilight is also the most beautiful part of a fall day).

Pictured: the twilight hours of a late fall day in Houghton, Michigan

There is plenty of popular culture set in or around fall. Thanks to Halloween, a lot of it (e.g., The Exorcist), is based around horror. To my mind, though, nothing has better captured the full range of fall's spirit, from beauty to melancholy, than Cartoon Network's miniseries 2014 Over the Garden Wall (though Arcade Fire's Funeral might be a close second). Noted Batman expert Jared Van Dyke introduced me to this series last fall, and I watched it then, but too late to write the fall-centric review of it that I have decided to write now. Created by Adventure Time's Patrick McHale, Over the Garden Wall is about the journey of brothers Wirt (Elijah Wood) and Greg (Collin Dean) through a mystical forest land called the Unknown. They have all manner of strange encounters over their journey: monsters, ghosts, highwaymen, witches, curses, and more. The opening credits will give a good sense of what kind of show it is (and give you a whistle-friendly tune that may lodge itself in your head):


In addition to perfectly capturing the spirit and essence of fall, Over the Garden Wall also impressively combines American and European folklore. The above elements, and the sylvan setting, suggest the Grimms' Fairy Tales aesthetic very much present in the series' approach. Yet the boys themselves, and most of the other voice actors (Christopher Lloyd and Tim Curry among their number), are thoroughly American, in both their dialects and their overall impression. Other aspects of the series also heavily suggest Americana: I think, for example, of the prominence of a Mark Twain-style steamboat, or an early-America-style schoolhouse. 

Greg and Wirt have a mostly picaresque journey, with the 10 episodes of the show loosely connected to one another. But common elements emerge, both in the narrative itself and in its themes. I didn't expect an animated cartoon aimed at children to say much about the importance of faith, perseverance, and family, for example (although maybe I should have, given that Samurai Jack had plenty to say about all of those), but Over the Garden Wall did just that.   

Over the Garden Well has many other things to commend it that I don't want to describe in too much detail, lest I ruin the show for you. I'll just give two pieces of advice: First, watch the 10 11-minute episodes in as quick succession as you can. Here, for once, I'll endorse binge-watching, the practice on which I have previously heaped scorn. For Over the Garden Wall achieves its maximum effect when viewed as a proximate whole. Second, watch it either as soon as possible, or wait until next October/November. You can enjoy Over the Garden Wall at any time of year, but it's best viewed right now, as the air begins to get crisper, the sports seasons begin to wrap up, the last leaves of autumn begin to fall, and winter begins to threaten. Over the Garden Wall is the perfect complement to all of the things that make fall the best season of the year (or my favorite, anyway). So be sure to make it part of your own fall.

I endorse Gary Johnson's run(ning)

Pictured: Gary Johnson running. Not for president, though.

Poor Gary Johnson. This should have been the year for a third-party presidential candidate. The two major-party presidential candidates are widely disliked, and he's a reasonably-accomplished former Republican governor of a blue state, with a similarly-pedigreed individual, in William Weld, as his Libertarian Party Vice Presidential nominee.

Alas, his campaign has not been anywhere near the success he surely hoped. First, his ticket failed to reach the 15 percent polling threshold required for participating in the presidential debates, despite the other candidates' aforementioned unpopularity (at least he got to serve as a podium). And his ticket now risks falling below the five percent popular vote threshold that would not only serve as a small, if concrete, rebuke to what our democracy has wrought this year, but also give the Libertarian Party an infusion of public funds for the next presidential election (an irony I won't bother to comment on).

A better-funded Libertarian Party could do something about this dilemma.

Why hasn't America, faced with the left nut and the right nut, felt the Johnson? Many reasons. Some conservatives disillusioned by Trump (and Clinton) say he never bothered reaching out to them when they could have formed his core support. Some libertarians claim the Johnson-Weld ticket is not really libertarian (especially the Weld part; it doesn't help that Weld's basically endorsed Hillary Clinton). Others wonder if libertarians can ever overcome their intra-party squabbling and unprofessionalism (e.g., this strip-tease that a corpulent, redheaded podium-crasher at their convention performed) if they couldn't do it this year. All could be factors.

Still others, however, blame Johnson himself. First, he responded to a question about the Syrian city of Aleppo by asking "what is Aleppo?" (from which he tried to recover by saying that not knowing where someplace is on a map makes him less likely to bomb it). Failed presidential candidate and successful Southern humorist Lindsay Graham said Johnson's performance in this interview "set back the cause of legalizing marijuana by 50 years." Then, when asked which foreign leader he admired, he referenced his own prior failure ("I'm having an Aleppo moment") when he could not name a single one. He seems to have taken this failure personally, angrily lashing out in interviews to express his pent-up frustration. And, to make things worse, his underwear is too tight, and his phone is almost out of data.

Pictured: probably not the tongue of our next president

But I said when I started this blog that I wouldn't talk about politics, so you can ignore all of that. For, despite it all, I endorse Gary Johnson's run...
 ...ing habits.

There's been a lot of talk about stamina this election. One candidate say he has it, and has a note from his doctor that is most definitely not one of the most ridiculous documents ever produced to prove it (but a record that awkwardly suggests otherwise). Meanwhile, he accuses the other candidate of lacking this precious stamina (indeed, she should probably consume some chocolate frogs). Yet the candidates from each respective party with the best stamina failed to win their party's nominations. Marco Rubio, now known mostly for sweating and being thirsty, probably picked up those habits from his (short-lived) stint as a college football player. Bernie Sanders was captain of his high school cross country team, and claims to have run a mile in the 4:30s (but everyone ran a 4:30 mile in high school...).

That leaves Gary Johnson. And, contrary to his campaign troubles, Johnson is the real deal in this area. He is a veteran mountain climber, and has even conquered Mt. Everest. Like Sanders, he ran track in high school, but has stuck with endurance athletics ever since. He has completed five Iron Mans, and has competed in the Ironman World Championship at Kona, Hawaii. He has run at least 13 marathons, including the Boston Marathon in 2002 (3:11:11), and claims a lifetime marathon PR of 2:48 (and a lifetime 10k PR of 33:45), and, unlike Paul Ryan, he doesn't seem to be lying about it. He ran the Leadville 100-miler (29:45:09). And, most impressive of all, he shows up to major news interviews and campaign events wearing running shoes. If this presidential race were an actual race, Johnson would win, hands-down (seriously though; all this talk about "running" for president, but where are the candidates' training logs?).

He prefers Nike.

Alas, it is not. But Johnson loves the active lifestyle so much that you almost get the sense he'd rather have spent this time training for and then racing a marathon than campaigning. He told Runners World that “Any day that I am not campaigning, I train an average of two to three hours a day," but “Campaigning 6 a.m. to midnight—[training is] not happening, although I walk as often as is possible.” If Gary Johnson is anything like me, or most runners or otherwise physically active people I know, not being able to workout has made him very unhappy (perhaps this explains his lashing out in the interviews above). He also said somewhere, though I cannot find where, that, to him, this presidential campaign wasn't a huge deal; if he didn't win, he'd go run a marathon or something.

This is the aspect of Johnson I find most compelling and appealing. Sure, if he were just a runner, I, as a runner myself, would still relate to him, much as I relate to John Kasich's massive appetite, or to Hillary's interest in UFOs. But there seems to be more to Johnson's commitment to endurance activities than that. Indeed, I'd argue that his passion suggests he recognizes, at the very least instinctively, and, one would hope for a libertarian, philosophically, that there is more to life than politics. Unfortunately, our age perversely rewards the sick-souled among us who desire power and willingly subordinate the rest of their lives to the political, the better to achieve a position whereby they can order the rest of us around. Something tells me that, at a fundamental level, this never appealed to Gary Johnson. And maybe there's a lesson in that.

And that lesson is we should all be runners.