What’s the deal? Is this a sporadic Friday Saturday Sunday Monday Tuesday newsletter now? (Those were all days I said I was going to publish this, but here we are.) Thank you for asking. The truth is: I don’t know. This edition is pushing out late because shortly after the fun of True/False, I was very sick, and this was just the next reasonable time to get out a newsletter. And going forward? Who’s to say? Because yesterday, we finally saw an end to our my long national nightmare (nope, sorry, not that one): I started a new job.

So there will be some learning and adjusting to go along with that, and I just don’t know how it will shake out. But I will be publishing this little newsletter every week (or as close to it as possible). Because it, and by extension all of you, kept me going in many ways when I was without. Hearing from you lifted my spirits and honestly made things seem a little less bleak. So thank you for that: for reading, for reaching out, for all of it.

It’s been two weeks since I sent you an entire film festival’s worth of documentary recommendations. That’s just enough of a delay that I’m not sure about the links I’m sharing this edition: Are they stale, outdated, moot? I fear some of them might be, but when I browse back through my read-later app, these still catch my attention just as much as the day I saved them. Besides, I’m not writing as a daily news source for anyone, so I should embrace that freedom.

Jason Kottke was grappling with the same question: What to share when the news moves as fast as it does these days? He’s got a more legit concern as the internet’s blogger-in-chief; he is providing daily curation, so these paragraphs from him made a lot of sense:

So, the question I’ve constantly been asking myself is: How should I be covering all this? What is the best use of your attention and my time, platform, and abilities? For the first couple of weeks, getting good information and analysis out about what was going on seemed most important, along with expert contextualization of events, providing actionable information, focusing on the stakes not the odds, and emphasizing the human stories and costs of the coup.

I believe all those things are still important to highlight. And writing about this still feels like something I have to do. However it feels increasingly unproductive for me to keep up with the “day to day” (even when that means something as consequential as the disappearing of legal residents for political reasons) on KDO. Other people and outlets are better equipped to keep you informed about such events. I do not want to contribute to folks feeling helpless or numb from information overwhelm — that won’t do any of us, or our future prospects for democracy, any good.

It’s a good assessment of things. And a good reminder of my own mission, such as it is. So I choose to celebrate that which is awesome.

Recently, we went to see the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra score the first Daniel Craig James Bond film, Casino Royale. This was a Christmas gift for Courtney, and when I gave her the tickets, I stashed them in the case of the 4K disc (which she couldn’t care less about owning in its physical form). As a result, we watched the film shortly after we exchanged gifts, and because of that, I thought I knew what to expect, sonically.

I couldn’t have been more mistaken. The SLSO was amazing, which wasn’t a surprise, but being in the room with these world-class musicians providing the backing track to this film I’ve seen a bunch of times was a stunning sensory experience.

It was honestly hard to keep up with all of it, in the way that sometimes you might find yourself staring at the Jumbotron while at a concert or sporting event—despite good seats, you just looked at the big screen. Or maybe it’s more like the split attention of keeping the subtitles on for movies and shows at home (which we often do)—suddenly you’ll realize you’re reading the words and have to wonder, “What did I miss on the screen?”

Something in between these experiences is what I felt watching the film with live music. I was there to watch the movie; it wasn’t wrong to get lost in the story and the action on screen. But then I’d realize in a moment of on-screen excitement just how involved the score was at that moment, and I’d snap out of movie mode and try to shift to diligent symphony-goer mode. And back and forth it went.

I was struck—truly in awe—of their mastery of their instruments and their craft. I mentioned one small observation to Courtney on the way home—none of the musicians tapped their toe to keep time.

She looked a little gobsmacked as she listened. Not at the revelation I’d uncovered, but by the fact that I’d found it noteworthy in the first place. A bit smug, you might say she was in dismissing my observation, the way you might chuckle at a kid (not a toddler) who marvels that the sky is blue on a bright, sunny day. “Yes, it is. Very good!” (Under your breath: Dumbass.)

I jest, but she has good reason: She’s an insanely talented pianist, closer to those world-class musicians than I am to an untrained monkey banging on a xylophone. But I remember, back in the days of sixth grade band and those few trumpet solos I had, how much of the band directors’ instructions and admonitions had been for us to tap our toes to find and keep the beat. While they didn’t get done on all fours to police this habit, I was an inveterate rule-follower and so was convinced that if I didn’t tap my toe, someone very well may die.

It was a two-hour film, and the playing was obviously not continuous. Sure, there were big, action-packed moments when you could not help but remember you were in the orchestra’s house for the evening; it was propulsive and loud and, honestly, it could take your breath away.

But I would note a silent patch and when I looked at the musicians, they were, unsurprisingly, watching the movie just like I was. And suddenly their bows were raised (we were so close that we could only really see the strings), they’d play these few ominous notes, and they’d be done. On the drive home, the sheer precision of that repeated non-moment throughout the film struck me as staggering. If a person here or there flubbed a cue, it was surely not loud enough for anyone to notice; the performance was, to my largely untrained ear, absolutely flawless.

And just like that, they, through sheer talent, were able to bring a part of the movies to life for me like I’d never experienced. There are assuredly people who can’t help but foreground the music in a film when they watch, but I’m not that person. I’m trying to clock a million things, because that’s what I feel like the cinephile friends and critics I admire do because they’re able to talk about so many different facets of the film, but a lot of the time, if the film is any good, I’m just sitting there, like a big ol’ dummy, swept up in the story.

My big dummy brain tried to get swept up in the story that night, too, but I’m really thankful for musicians so talented to make me see (read: hear) a familiar property in a new light for the very first time.

Ten (And Then Some) Worth Your Time

(Just going in order from my read-later app, so there you have it: the entire method to my madness for this one.)

1. Robert Daniels for Letterboxd on The Wages of Fear being released in 4K for the Criterion Collection. It’s fun to see a talented critic draw connections to so many other great films, PLUS the Criterion Collection just announced that William Friedkin’s Sorcerer, a modified version of TWOF and an all-time flick, is going to be released in June.
2. One dedicated park ranger in Golden Gate Park works above and beyond to help the homeless people living in the park find other housing options. Heartbreaking and inspiring in equal measure.
3. An interesting glimpse by Neiman Storyboard behind-the-scenes at what goes into a book’s release by taking a tour through its acknowledgements. Wright Thompson’s new book, The Barn, remains on my TBR list, but every time I see it in my office, I’m reminded of the need to dig in. Hearing him give thanks to those who helped make it possible just reinforces that feeling.
4. The internet’s Menswear Guy (otherwise known as Derek Guy) wrote a great essay for PBS on the sartorial style of James Baldwin, and when I tell you this overlap of topics is extremely my shit, I don’t do it justice. Loved this bit: Clothing is more than adornment; it’s a social script we perform daily. While the fashion press fixates on fleeting trends, runway theatrics, and the latest creative director’s vision, the real narrative of dress unfolds in the subtle ways we signal who we are—or who we need to be.
5. This Oxford Americanarticle about a truly local loaf of bread from a Chattanooga, Tennessee, bakery spoke to the nascent baker in me. Loved all of the characters in this story.
6. The Washington Post wrote about the founder (and founding) of IMDb, which I had no idea was one of the oldest websites on the entire internet.
7. Tina Brown’s newsletter, Fresh Hell, and her happy-100th-birthday message for The New Yorker was my drug. Shoot it straight into my veins. It just sounds like so much fun to scour the earth for the most talented writers and editors and artists, and she makes it sound like the time of her life. Makes me pea-green with envy.
8. More love for The New Yorker on the occasion of its 100th year, this time from The Hedgehog Review.
9. Enjoy some stunning photos of Antarctica in a short essay meditating on the very act of attempting to photograph Antarctica and all of its wonder that can’t fully be captured in a still image.
10. The Criterion Channel is currently running a collection of films directed by Joan Micklin Silver, and its magazine, The Current, ran an essay about one of my favorite movies, Between the Lines, about the staff of a Village Voice-esque alternative weekly magazine.
11. More general terribleness from the legislators of my state: After a constitutional amendment that guaranteed abortion access clearly showed the preference of its people, Missouri is now offering tax credits to donations to anti-abortion centers. Absolutely galling, but honestly it’s a bit surprising they hadn’t thought of it before.
12. I loved this impassioned takedown of the concept of AI attempting to answer moral questions. When it comes to AI vs. The Trolley Problem, The Verge says AI shouldn’t even get a say.
13. Vulture reviewed Jason Isbell’s new solo album that was written in the aftermath of his divorce.
14. This great advice to anyone interested in starting a blog (or any other creative endeavor)(h/t to Caroline Crampton’s newsletter for this one).
15. Chris Heath, a master storyteller in his own right, interviewing Robert Caro, the absolute king researcher/writer/storyteller of them all.
16. There’s a certain quality that comes with having lived in a place for a stretch of time that makes you invested in any writing about that place in perpetuity. It’s easy for me to say that about the entirety of Wyoming, but in reality that’s a silly thing to say because it’s a monstrously huge state. But I couldn’t help but do a double take when I saw this New Yorker story about a massacre of Chinese miners in Rock Springs, which was only two hours south of where I lived and the home of one of our sister papers.
17. Revisiting another one of my old stomping grounds as I celebrate Mississippi Free Press’s willingness to pull the trigger in a way I haven’t yet myself: leaving Twitter once and for all.
18. Remember that crazy story from The Cut last year that took the internet by storm for a few days? Yeah, you know the one, where the financial advice columnist got scammed into giving $50,000 in cash in a shoebox to her scammers as they rolled down the window of a vehicle, like in some kind of movie? Well, here’s a piece of a finance writer who knows a thing or two about banking procedures and thought that story just didn’t quite seem right. (h/t to The Browser for circulating this one to me.)
19. This piece from The Bulwark that reminds us that politics in the South have always been anti-democratic. “They’re not wrong about the scope of his intent—but when critics go so far as to claim that there is no precedent for what Trump is doing in the history of American government, they are forgetting about the political history of the American South.”
20. Critic Matt Zoller Seitz on what Roger Ebert would have thought about his favorite fast-food restaurant, Steak ’n Shake, and its string of weird MAGA/MAHA tweets. “The Supreme Court notoriously decided in 2010 that in certain circumstances, corporations should be considered people. If that’s true, Steak ‘n Shake wears a brown shirt and swastika armband.”