“The power of accurate observation is commonly called cynicism by those who have not got it.” — George Bernard Shaw
“[T]he notion that even paranoid people have enemies is wielded as if its absolutely necessary corollary were the injunction ‘so you can never be paranoid enough.’
“But the truth value of the original axiom…doesn’t actually make a paranoid imperative self-evident. Learning that ‘just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean you don’t have enemies,’ somebody might deduce that being paranoid is not an effective way to get rid of enemies. Rather than concluding ‘so you can never be paranoid enough,’ this person might instead be moved to reflect ‘but then, just because you have enemies doesn’t mean you have to be paranoid.’ That is to say…: for someone to have an unmystified view of systemic oppressions does not intrinsically or necessarily enjoin that person to any specific train of epistemological or narrative consequences. To be other than paranoid…, to practice other than paranoid forms of knowing does not, in itself, entail a denial of the reality or gravity of enmity or oppression.”
— Eve Sedgwick, “Paranoid Reading and Reparative Reading, or, You’re So Paranoid, You Probably Think This Essay is About You”
I can’t remember when exactly I first came across that Shaw quotation—I think it was in middle school, maybe early high school. I’m almost positive I had it in my rotation of AIM away messages, to give you an idea of how long ago this was. The point being, I’ve lived by that quote for about half my life, at times wielding it as a shield, at other times wielding it as a weapon, but always using it to fight against what I saw as naive acceptance.
“Fight” being the operative word here. I am antagonistic, towards political statements, towards media and pop culture, towards ad slogans and other marketing copy, towards really any text, and if you happen to like that text then you’re collateral damage. I’ve killed a number of conversations (and made a number of people feel kind of shitty) by being vociferously critical of something my interlocutor happened to like, and while I’ve grown enough to be aware of this problem and feel guilty about it, that’s done very little (though not, I hope, nothing) to curtail it.
I’ve also denied myself any enjoyment of these things by taking such an antagonistic stance toward them, one which brooks no compromise or nuance. Well, I’m exaggerating a little, there are plenty of things I like even while recognizing their flaws. But fewer than I might otherwise, particularly as I approach each text on high alert for any ideological or artistic transgressions.
Which brings us to Sedgwick’s essay. A friend of mine recommended it, and I happened to read it just a few weeks before going to see Everything Everywhere All at Once. Okay, by read I mean skim, but even as some of it didn’t really grab me, other parts clearly sunk in, namely the idea that this approach to reading texts is maybe not the healthiest one to use all the time. To use any perceived flaw in a text as an excuse to read it primarily as an act of manipulation rather than communication often means missing what it’s actually attempting to communicate.
Which brings us, finally, to Everything Everywhere All at Once. Early on in the film, in particular when Alpha-Waymond says his bit about people being suspicious of each other and institutions failing and trying to get things back to how they should be, I could feel my instincts kicking in. “This is some really on-the-nose Liberal ‘back to brunch’ bullshit,” thought I. “This movie is trying to tell me that everything that’s been going wrong in the last X years isn’t due to decades of neoliberal agendas or centuries of capitalistic exploitation and greed, etc. but instead to the fact that we’re in some wacky alternate universe, and if we can just find our way back to our universe than everything will be fine again,” I grumbled. “This is the Joe Biden of movies,” I pontificated.
And then I remembered Sedgwick’s essay, and I thought to myself, “Why am I assuming that this movie wants to be about politics? Does it have to be whether it wants to or not? What if I let it tell me what it’s about instead of me telling it what it’s about?”
So I did that and it turns out I really liked the movie and I was biting my lip to keep from crying for most of the second half because yeah, I really relate to the idea that an increased awareness of everything inevitably leads to nihilism, and maybe I constantly need to be reminded that that’s not necessarily true, and maybe I also sometimes need to be reminded that you can fight *for* something not just *against* something and that you can fight with conviction but also with empathy.
Maybe sometimes you can choose joy.
p.s. And maybe it’s kind of about politics after all, and maybe this movie is actually an artistic representation of a very similar argument to the one that Sedgwick is making in her essay and I’m very clever for pairing the two even if it is just a coincidence that I was too lazy to read (skim) the essay for like 6 months and only got around to it recently.
p.p.s. But also I’m only human and I could not stand the hot dog fingers (and a couple other things that relate to very specific phobias of mine we don’t need to go into) so half a point off for that.
p.p.p.s. If the Oscars mattered and had any integrity or in any way actually represented the highest achievements in film this movie would sweep the Oscars. As it is I think they have to at least nominate Michelle Yeoh for Best Actress, and of course Ke Huy Quan for Best (Supporting?) Actor, and the two Daniels for Directing and Writing. Also Larkin Seiple for Cinematography and Paul Rogers for Editing (dear god the editing on this movie was going to make or break it and it absolutely makes it). And Son Lux for Best Score. And Stephanie Hsu for Best Actress also, but, like, she and Michelle Yeoh should both win and that’s just going to have to be allowed. Or I guess Stephanie Hsu could get Best Supporting Actress but then of course we have the same problem because Jamie Lee Curtis will also be winning that category. Also Timothy Eulich for Stunt Coordinator and I don’t even know if that’s a category, and don’t even get me started on the visual effects—
p.p.p.p.s. I appreciate a movie that doesn’t try to hide from its influences and the explicit Matrix references were really tastefully done.
p.p.p.p.p.s. The shot with the two rocks going “ha ha ha ha” needs to be a poster. Specifically a poster on my wall.
p.p.p.p.p.p.s. I hope that my somewhat ecstatic epiphany in the main body of this review doesn’t come across as forced or somewhat unbelievable. To be clear, I legitimately had a very moving experience with this movie that will hopefully affect how I approach the world, but it didn’t, like, fix me or whatever. Just as Evelyn still has all those other worlds clamoring for attention at the end, I’m not suddenly going to be able to completely stave off my cynicism or my nihilism—which, in case the pre-epiphany part sounded too self-deprecating, I should clarify is at least partially because depression is a thing that exists and affects brains.
p.p.p.p.p.p.p.s. According to IMDb the voice of Raccacoonie was Randy Newman, yes, that Randy Newman.
Certain of Eventual Failure 