Thursday, 23 July 2020

WATCHING DA 5 BLOODS


Spike Lee does Netflix as did Martin Scorsese (The Irishman, 2019), with a very long film, this time set in contemporary Vietnam, on the legacy of the colonial wars.
The focus is on a squad of African American ex-soldiers, who return to search for their charismatic squad leader, Storming Norman (played by Chadwick Boseman), an inspirational amalgam of Malcolm X, Martin Luther King and a human war machine. There is also a cache of CIA-gold the squad buried and now plan to retrieve for their own benefit.
Echoing reactions to Martin Scorsese's film, the viewer wonders if this fine and fascinating film, at 2 hours and 34 minutes, is an hour too long. What happened to the Hollywood tradition of the gripping and sufficient 90 minute feature? With the shift of US film distribution to Netflix and to other digital platformsare film-makers stuffing in too much? 
Da 5 Bloods is three films, perhaps: two quest films – firstly, searching for the remains of an old comrade-in-arms, secondly lusting for gold (See The Treasure of Sierra Madre, 1948) - and it’s also an exploration of brotherhood and race in America today. 
The primary plot-driver is a crusade. A group of older men, linked by combat experiences and a mixed set of purposes and plans, embark on a mission to retrieve the remains of their near-sainted leader and to bring them home. This is a theme that resonates with many US war dramas. See Saving Private Ryan (1998).
The film presents chilling statistics such as that 33% of the US military forces in the American War in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia were African Americans, despite being only 17% of the US population. This underpinthe exploration of racism in America today. The racism and lived experience of African Americans rest not only on the legacy of the slave trade, but on many other legacies, including the state’s reliance on African Americans in its military endeavours. This continues to the present day.
Paul (Delroy Lindo) wears a cap with the logo Make America Great Again. Delroy Lindo is great. This is his film. He gives a powerful performance of hurt, anger, intelligence, lyricism and mania that soars over the other performances. All the principal performers are terrific, presenting well-developed and well-written characters. 
(See Delroy Lindo in David Mamet’s 2001 double-cross film Heist, where, as Bobby Blane, he delivers many wonderful Mamet-esque lines with terrific style and menace, including 
You know why the chicken crossed the road? Because the road crossed the chicken.)
Da 5 Bloods gives a nod to the war of liberation against the French with a role for an old colonial, Desrochesas financial fixer and gangster. He is played adroitly by Jean Reno, laying on the Gallic arrogance and insouciance. 
Paul’s son Davi(Jonathan Majors) joins the quest in a surprise turn, to bring father-son, inter-generational themes to the story. 
The locals in Da 5 Bloods are not given very much to do. A number of them are cannon fodder for the African Americans who mow down a large troop of Viet Cong during the flash-back war scenes. The aged Bloods remain surprisingly adept ex-soldiers, seeing off a sizeable gang in a climactic fire-fight over the gold.
Not unlike other US war films, a small group of American fighters, regardless of their ethnicity, readily defeat larger numbers of native fighters. Greater firepower and better training, no doubt, but also greater financial and cultural clout for American film-makers make heroic war actions by Americans the dominant narrative. See the Indian Wars’ films, involving US cavalry, produced by Hollywood.
The film doesn’t stray far from the notion of American exceptionalism as an international power. The principals hold to Mark Twain’s aphorism:
loyalty to country always, loyalty to government when it deserves it.
That the final shakedown occurs amidst the ruins of a forest-engulfed temple is a telling illustration of the overwhelming capture Time achieves on all human activity, imperial wars included.
The Vietnamese people continue their history, incorporating new cultures into their ways of being, as the contemporary scenes in Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) show. Legacy matters are ever present, nonetheless. Ordinary people challenge the ex-soldiers for killing their parents and families. 
DA 5 Bloods is a timely film, focussing on African American history and how it impacts on lives today. The film is intercut with telling archive news and documentary footage to bring that history to bear on the film. As ever in war, the men who gave the orders rarely face the consequences. Even President Barack Obama validated the Stars and Stripes and sent fellow African Americans to secure that banner at military bases all over the globe, while advancing international wars of conquest, supported by an arms trade that is a cornerstone of the American economic system.
Da 5 Bloods is recommended.Though it is very long, it tells an untold story with panache and verve. It has a lush, sometimes epic, orchestral score of original music by the great Terence Blanchard and uses the workof Marvin Gaye (What’s going on? With the line: war is not the answerto terrific effect. 
Delroy Lindo’s exceptional solo in the jungle is a highlight. It is elegiac and poignant, powerfully delivered in the fallen-hero tradition.
Might Spike Lee make a film telling the heroic story of Muhammed Ali’s challenge to the military draft?
Why should they ask me to put on a uniform and go 10,000 miles from home and drop bombs and bullets on Brown people in Vietnam, while so-called Negro people in Louisville are treated like dogs and denied simple human rights? No, I’m not going 10,000 miles from home to help murder and burn another poor nation simply to continue the domination of white slave masters of the darker people the world over. This is the day when such evils must come to an end.

DA 5 BLOODS, film, Spike Lee, 40 Acres and a Mule Filmworks, 2020
Delroy Lido, as Paul, in a solo scene

Related reading/viewing:
The Sorrow of War by Bao Ninh, (book, 1987) 
The Quiet American by Graham Greene, (book, 1955 and film, 2002) 
Indochine,(film, 1992)


Monday, 13 July 2020

THE APOLOGY ALGORITHM


Algorithms are as old as computation. They appear in mathematical systems across all cultures, both informally and formally. They are step-by-step procedures, designed to perform calculations or solve problems. 
The word, as used in English, gained traction in wider culture with the advent of Turing Machines in the mid-twentieth century. These machines, and the computer science to which they gave rise, are the precursors of the contemporary information technologies which dominate social, economic, media and public life globally.
Common usage understands algorithms as veiled processes used by over-whelming social media platforms to select and focus our choices and our behaviour. If you use a machine search engine to check out holidays by the sea, you will find advertisements for seaside resorts cluttering your email account, confusing your social media browsing and intruding on future machine searches.
A basic definition of an algorithm says it is a well-defined sequence of steps, explained clearly enough that even a computer could do them.
The following notes discuss how humans use one to solve one of the most intractable human problems: how to make an apology when you don’t mean it and when it isn’t meant to have any consequences.
The classic steps in the apology algorithm are similar in all human languages. More arcane versions are being developed in computer languages, as part of Artificial Intelligence advances to equip robots with this vital piece of software.
In English, a classic apology goes as follows:

I am sorry for … 
                            action/occurrence/event
I will … 
                           action/redress/recompense

By way of illustration, consider an incident involving two footballers, in a heated game in a women’s tournament.
Player 1 says 

I am sorry for breaking your leg.
I will not do it again.

She may go further.

I will visit you in hospital and bring grapes.

Player 2 may accept the apology. She may not consider it sincere. She may not consider it sufficient.
A variation on this classic formula is widely found in contemporary public life.

I am sorry that you were... 
                                          emotion

The notable changes from for to that and from to you clearly demonstrate the shift of agency from the apologiser to the person receiving the apology. A further significant change is from action to emotion.
This form of the algorithm is commonly used in cases where the apologiser is under pressure not to give way.
Player 1 says

I am sorry that your leg was broken.
I am sorry for the hurt this has caused.

Player 2 may accept this apology. She may doubt Player 1’s trustworthiness.

Elaborations on this variation occur widely in public life. It is known informally as The Half-Apology and, more formally, as The Politic Apology.




http://www.irishnews.com/news/northernirelandnews/2020/07/04/news/michelle-o-neill-criticised-over-half-apology-in-storey-funeral-row-1995281/

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Wednesday, 10 June 2020

MOVING STATUES TODAY


In the summer of 1985 statues moved in Ireland. The statue of Mary, the virgin mother of Jesus, in a grotto at Ballinspittle on the road between Cork and Kinsale, became the most renowned. Crowds flocked to the scene to express their devotion. 
Various learned opinions described the occurrences as optical illusions, a consequence of existential angst or the outworking of childhood traumas amplified by religious piety. The experts said they were grounded in human and material causes. The Roman Catholic Church authorities were reticent and sceptical. One Bishop took the illusion line. No religious authority endorsed them.
When statues move, authorities become uncomfortable.
Statues are moving again. Not statues of virgin mothers, but of wealthy merchants, traders, benefactors, governors and military generals. They are not moving spontaneously – perhaps only religious ones can manage that feat – but with the agency of local people or local authorities in places like the southern states of the USA and the English cities of Bristol and London. These statues are being moved because of anger at the slave trade and its legacies. They are moved by informal efforts of citizens or by formal efforts of city councils and other bodies in power.
The legacies of the human slave trade persist long after manifestations of the trade cease. The principal legacy is the human slave trade thriving today, in overt forms such as sex-worker trafficking or in the de-facto indentured labour of construction workers building stadia for the FIFA World Cup in Qatar. Other legacies are institutional and inter-personal discriminations against Black and other people of colour in the world and the virulent racism that underpin them. 
The current impetus that has set the statues moving arises from the horror of the murder of George Floyd by a police officer who choked him by kneeling on his neck for nine minutes, while other police officers ignored Mr. Floyd’s appeals to be allowed to breathe, all in the full glare of mobile phone camera coverage, which circulated globally following his death. 
Efforts to formally move the statues occurred long before George Floyd’s murder, but were not successful. The informal efforts that occurred recently arise from the anger that his murder uncovered, anger that has been held within by Black and many other people. Repressed anger is a legacy of the direct and indirect violences of human slavery and racism. Such violences always lead to expressions of anger, some of which may themselves be directly violent. That such violence occurs ought to surprise no one. 
And so the story of these occurrences and the debates that follow them spread in the public and media spheres. 
In the 1948 film, The Miracle of the Bells, the story of another moving statue, this time in an immigrant community of coal miners in the USA, is told by Hollywood stars Frank Sinatra, as the priest and Fred MacMurray, as a film company press agent. A statue moves and draws hard-pressed miners and their families to religious devotions. Though it emerges that earthly and economic causes moved the statue, how that story is told, is critically important. 
The press agent has a telling lesson for the adamant priest. 
God doesn't need a press agent.
I'm not so sure, once upon a time if I remember rightly, he had 12 very good press agents. Top men. 
My my, I never thought of the apostles as press agents. 
Well, what else were they? They sold the biggest story that ever happened to the whole world and without the benefit of newspapers and radio. Terrific job.
Both characters, the priest and the press agent, are story-makers. The priest operates in the religious and spiritual world. The press agent plies a trade in material and commercial concerns. Their voices and those of many other interests and forces are present in the stories and debates that range across the world today. Legacy matters are always current affairs, not least in regards to racism. They demand current attention and story making. 
Tossing a statue into a harbour is one story. Using a local council hoist to remove a statue is another. The first is perhaps a necessary spark to illuminate the need for the latter and to ignite the action to bring it about. 
Attempts to story these statues as educational or historic are vain. They are in the here and now and their purpose is glorification. The phrase ‘on a pedestal’ is telling. Which statues are moved is a matter of political and social choice, best served by a form of consensus not readily achieved in racist and colonialist instances. Wider and deeper stories need to made, well beyond statues, from the legacies of racist and colonial histories, which run from the past right up to the present day. White privilege is not a story of the past. It is a story of the present.
Not all statues are vulnerable to movement. There is a statue of the nurse Mary Seacole, a Black woman, outside a London hospital. It is stable. It is not on a pedestal, but on a modest platform, that maintains a human scale.
Will the story of the service of nurses, cleaners, porters, care-workers, doctors and other health and social welfare workers be told by statues at the end of the current pandemic? Or by medals, honours or scholarships? Or will it be a story of fair pay, fair treatment, decent working conditions, respect and equality? A fitting legacy. No vain glory. No pedestal. Simply respect and justice. 


Statue of Mary Seacole:
The Miracle of the Bells (film, 1948):


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Monday, 8 June 2020

VIRUS-TIME SHORT TALKS NO. 10: NEW NORMAL


No. 10 New Normal      broadcast 8.6.2020     THE LAST ONE

I bought a crystal ball. I reckoned I needed one, to see into the future, what with all the changes coming in the lockdown. Now, I was surprised to get one, because all I’ve been hearing was that there was no crystal ball to tell how this thing will go in the future. I followed my own instinct, as one of our most senior advisors told us to do after all his cummings and goings and stared into my crystal ball. 
It was a bit cloudy, as there have been numerous calls from retailers and hoteliers and barbers and many others for clarity. At least now you can get your dog groomed and there’s a few shaggy dogs coming and going on our street and not all of them on four legs. 
Suddenly a shot rang out and my crystal ball shattered on the table. I saw a silver bullet, nestling under the tea cosy. That surprised me, because like the crystal ball, I’d heard that there was no silver bullet for the virus or the lockdown. But there it was. It’s on the mantlepiece now, next to the photos of the grand weans.
I have no idea where it came from. Certainly not from our twin eagles Foster and O’Neill, aided by their trusty, lugubrious Swann, our health minister and his valiant public health mallardJerrythe numbers Waldron, all of whom are flying well.
After I swept up the shards of the crystal ball, I wondered where to go from here. I’m knackered following the science and I haven’t caught it yet. The science or the virus. So I’ll keep following it, the science, even though we’re easing out of lockdown. Lockdown is like dog foul on our street. Easy enough to get into, but messy to get out of. (Sfx. dog bark)
Except, we’re all in it together, as I’ve been told for weeks now. I’m not so sure. It’s like we’re all at sea, only we’re not all swimming, we’re in different boats. (sfx. ship’s horn) I see private yachts and great cruisers on their way to isolated islands. I see dainty dinghies barely seaworthy. And I see crowded rowing boats, jammed full of people and not an oar among them. Same sea? Maybe. Different boats? Definitely.
Me and the people on my street are in the public sea. Certain politicians and commentators, say things like ‘the public wants reassurance, they want clarity’, which tells me that those people don’t see themselves in the public sea, like me and you.
Enough of this rambling. I’ve had ten good weeks of it and listeners must be deeved. This is my last ramble. I’ll away and wash me hands and sing happy birthday twice. I did that for three weeks solid at the start, then I realised I could wash the rest to me, so I had a shower. And after that I’ll make some cherry scones. This member of the public needs flour and baking soda. And buttermilk. And cherries. We’ll all need cherries in the new normal. I’ll be glad of them.

Thanks to Colum Arbuckle for sound production throughout the series. THE LAST ONE!
Broadcast on BBC Foyle, The Breakfast Show, 8.6.2020 
Available on BBC Sounds. From 1 55 00

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m000jxlj





Monday, 1 June 2020

VIRUS-TIME SHORT TALKS No. 9: Numbers


No. 9: Numbers 

I met a neighbour – he’s about the same age as me - on my early morning tramp around our estate and we agreed about two things. We’re both scunnered with the comings and goings at Westminster and we’re both missing our grand weans.
One of our wee men had a birthday last week. His Ma and Da invited us to a zoom party. We dressed up and had a cake with four candles in our own house. It was a hoot, tinged with sadness. The birthday boy didn’t spend much time on-screen. He was in full Fireman Sam mode and the party was really in Pontypandy. He could be heard, off, rescuing an angler from the rocks when the tide came in, saving a cat off a roof and putting out a blaze at a barn. (Sfx – nee-naw; fire-engine). 
When I asked what age he was he said he was a square number. Four. That fired me up. The next day, I got the bag of spuds and put out a line of two, then another line of two underneath and right enough, that made a square. When I put out another line of two it was a rectangle. 6 is not a square number. It’s rectangle number. I said to myself: that wee lad’s on to something here. Einstein and Hawkins better watch out. My neighbour thinks the same. Every grandpa things their grandweans are brilliant.
There weren’t enough spuds, so I drew dots on paper, pretending they were peas. I got 4 lines of 4 making 16, 5 lines of 5 making 25, both square numbers. By the time I got to 81, which was nine lines of nine, I thought to myself – Dave, you’ve definitely gone lockdown loopy. You need to get out more. 
So I did 100, ten lines of ten. Yep. 100 is a square number. I looked at all my dots and my squares and admired them. Everyday's a school day, eh. The spuds went the only way they could. As an accompaniment to the bacon and cabbage.
I’m a square number myself. (sfx- tune Beatles when I’m 64 - clarinet only)
Ach, I was never great with numbers. I was better with algebra. The letters, you see. But I wasn’t great there either. I’m struggling with the R number now, a public health algebraic conundrum. It’s about the level of infection. I’m not sure what the R stands for. Restricted? No, that’s drivers. I think it might be reproduction, for the number of times the virus reproduces. The lower the better. Get it under 1. It’s around point 8 at the minute. I wasn’t much good at decimals either. You put that dot in the wrong place and you’re out millions.
Say the R number was point 5. Does that mean a person with the virus could only infect half of you? If that’s true, I’d like it to be the lower half, from my feet up. Save the lungs. And stop just before the watershed, below the waterworks, which are fragile enough at the best of times. And these are not the best of times.
I need to fess up. That was only a point 5 truth earlier. I’m not a square number. I’m a square number plus 1. I told you I wasn’t great with numbers. Is 1 a square number? I’ll leave that one with you. (sfx – more of the full tune)



Broadcast on BBC Foyle, The Breakfast Show, 1.6.2020 
Available on BBC Sounds. From 1 55 00

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m000jxlj