#i believe a fallible person is a lovable person

[ladybirdplace]

Responsibility part 1

I know I said in my update that I feel uninspired and like I can’t write a post like I used to, but I think this one is pretty similar to my old stuff.

Inspired by my last post, and by something I said in one of my posts once, I want to elaborate a bit on how amatonormativity as a socio-cultural phenomenon asserts that the responsibility of fulfilling an individual's emotional needs falls on others.

As a disclaimer, I do believe that there are responsibilities in any close relationship. It is the responsibility of a parent to love and care for their child emotionally. It is the responsibility of a romantic partner or friend to love and care for their partner/friend. And it is the responsibility of a therapist or mental health provider to aid their client's mental health.

But the thing I find curious is that those responsibilities usually fall on other people completely, especially in the respect of love.

When it comes to a person's natural need for love, acceptance, and understanding, it is expected for others to fill those needs, and there’s little or no mention of the person's need for the same things from themself.

Love, acceptance, and understanding are seen as purely social needs rather than also internal ones. It's good that we as a culture here in America are becoming more aware of how important self love is to an individual's mental health, but I also notice things when I read forum threads about someone wanting advice about their self image or when I read articles about self love.

On forums, when someone laments about not feeling accepted, the response is often that it is okay because they will eventually find someone who will accept them.

And in articles about self love, there is often an emphasis on the fact that not loving yourself will negatively effect your relationships.

The most common pitch for self love is that you can’t love others if you can’t love yourself, which isn’t necessarily true, and for people like me who go through periods of self hate, that statement can feel like you are being barred from loving others purely because of your feelings about yourself, leading you to feel as though your lovability and worth is conditional. You start thinking that not loving yourself means you are undeserving of loving others. And of course, the reason that you are undeserving of loving others is because your self hate makes you push people away or treat them badly or make them feel bad for you or because you are a burden to them for struggling with your self image.

While I think one's self image greatly has to do with how they treat others, I do feel that sometimes self love is still seen as a social need rather than an internal need for survival.

I understand this angle somewhat. Like I’ve said before, I feel it is a condition of being human the amount of trouble we have being kind to ourselves, and that it is completely inevitable for one to criticize themself more shrewdly than they would do to someone else.

It is only natural that we feel more motivated by thinking it is our responsibility to love ourselves for the sake of our loved ones. It lights a fire under our asses when we feel no compassion for ourselves. Still, I feel this reasoning leaves out the whole truth.

The more time goes on, and the more I’ve steeped myself in the subject of self love, I realize just how truly required it is to live with oneself in this world.

We humans are capable of introspection. We don't run only on instinct. We are solipsized. We have the ability to really conceptualize ourselves as something very unique and flawed and fallible. And this ability to understand that we are unique and flawed and fallible means that we are able to understand how to modify our behavior better to succeed and evolve. It is how we as a species have managed to achieve so much. Our ability to self reflect drives our survival.

We are animals that are required to understand our flawed state. And it is in our nature to think of ourselves in this way, and evaluate who we are, and place value on who are.

And it is for this reason that self love is so important. We are solipsized, we are doomed to self reflect probably more than is efficient, and so our own self image is instrumental in how we operate in our lives.

This is why our societies are always so cerebral, all about one's own success and status and morality and worth, and all the complication and pitfalls it comes with.

[coquelicoq]

one thing i really love about cherry magic is its use of the unreliable narrator trope. the narrator's skewed view of himself and the people around him makes him personally an unreliable source of information about his world, but for the majority of the show, every time he tells us something biased, he's immediately corrected by another source. because of the magic, we and the narrator are continuously exposed to information that contradicts what the narrator is telling us/himself, and as this continues to happen it allows us to develop a distance from the narrator's perspective that it's much harder for the narrator himself to achieve.

this in itself isn't i would say a very uncommon way for the unreliable narrator device to be used, but what i like about it here is that the whole point of the show, the main character arc imo, is for the narrator to realize and work on correcting his unreliability - to accept that the story he tends to tell himself about his life is faulty and to learn how to tell a new story. so often an unreliable narrator is used to create a sense of mystery for the reader - what's really going on? what can be trusted? are we being lied to or is the narrator misinformed? - and i love that usage, but here what's so fun about it is that there is no mystery whatsoever. we know that adachi is misguided, in general and in each specific moment. the pull of this story is very much character-driven and comes from watching him struggle to change his worldview, in the exact same way that any person with a skewed self-image due to low self-worth has difficulty believing they're lovable and other people are fallible just like they are. so in that way the magic (the anti-unreliable narrator) is the perfect device for telling a story with that arc.

i love an unreliable narrator story that has something to say about the unreliability of the stories that other people tell us. but more than that i love a story about the unreliability of the stories we tell ourselves. there's an uplifting humility in that, when the story we tell ourselves is that we're worthless. how can we know that? do we have access to the information we would need to make that assessment? we think we're worthless but also omniscient? cherry magic reveals this thinking as the absurdity that it is. i think that's why this show, despite its truly unfortunate name and general premise lmao, has such staying power for me.

[phoenixrisesoncemore]

But Whose Deontology?

The Untamed: three-fifths mark

OK, @thearrogantemu​ I finally had a chance to look at a non-work screen for long enough to watch some more Untamed; through episode 30 now! Oh boy. Spoilers for anyone who isn’t this far yet below the cut:

I feel like this show didn’t exactly *hide* that it was interested in poking holes in everyone’s moral system, but it did spend a lot of time... not distracting us, really, but using the other assorted comical, tender, and otherwise emotional aspects of the show to deepen our investment in these characters’ lives and choices before it started really making its moves. I suspect it wouldn’t have had the same effect otherwise.

The long run up is a pacing I’m quite the fan of from almost three decades of JRPGs that start out as light-hearted adventures about teenage angst only to turn into philosophical ruminations on God and the nature of the universe (see my favorite example: Xenogears). Even The Lord of the Rings does something... similar, albeit not intentionally on the part of the author. It’s actually one of my favorite “tropes” in storytelling: the tone shift—the moment the light-hearted and comfortingly simple reveals itself to be something much wider and deeper and which will leave you unsettled in its wake.(1)

I’m really quite impressed with Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo. Xiao Zhan manages to believably play the process of aging from arrogant and ornery but innocent and lovable “student” in Cloud Recesses, to the (still arrogant and ornery but lovable) rebellious “hero” during the Wen indoctrination, to the (still arrogant but lovable) young man forced to grow up too fast when his adoptive parents are killed, to the Master of Demonic Cultivation and head of The World’s Most Wholesome Farming Co-op (why cultivate only demons when you can cultivate turnips, too!?).(2) And he manages to play it all as believably the same character, always deeply expressive but also somehow... authentic... even when he is putting on a show: his play-acted irresponsible argumentativeness with Wen Qing; his self-infantilization whenever he wants Yanli to mother him. The latter would be laughable if we were to take it as entirely straight-faced—he knows he is playing childish, and he knows that she knows, even if he does legitimately want to be mothered. Jiang Cheng on the other hand seems to never handle the reality of Wei Wuxian as well as Wei Wuxian handles the reality of Jiang Cheng...

I understand there was some criticism of Yibo’s perceived lack of expressiveness when the show first came out, but I think he’s doing a fantastic job portraying a deeply stoic character whose emotional turmoil is buried under mountains of learned and self-enforced composure. It’s not like he’s missing beats; he’s responding, it’s just subtle. He’s responsible for two of my favorite moments so far: when he first smiles ever so slightly when he sees the lantern Wuxian has made him with the rabbit drawing(3) and the scene of him kneeling in the snow as punishment. I don’t know if it’s the lighting or the fact that it’s one of the few times he’s not carrying tension in his eyebrows, but he looks SO YOUNG in that shot. Honestly, he looks more AT PEACE in that shot than I think he does at almost any other time in the show so far. It feels to me like, in that moment, he has no regrets either about what he did nor about the fact that he should have to atone for it. Like he has internalized some sense that both things are right and can exist in tension. The weird effect of this growth next to Wei Wuxian’s feels like watching one of the two grow older (Wuxian) while the other grows younger (Wangji).

Now, I’m a sucker for every last story where two highly disparate-seeming people move from from some variation of dislike (either on the part of one or both) to friendship to, sometimes, something more (no, no BL here, none at all *looks the other way*). Certainly Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have very different personalities. Wei Wuxian has little regard for rules, authority, tradition, taboos, or social etiquette: he uses Lan Wangji’s ming(4) almost as soon as he meets him! The way he interacts with objects and spaces (and personal space!) shows his lack of reverence/respect for the people and things others expect him to have reverence for. He has no problem questioning what everyone else seems to see as obvious up to the point of outright suggesting the use of dark magic. Because...well, why not?? Because “they said so?”

It’s not that he doesn’t KNOW the rules. Another of my absolute favorite moments is during the Wen indoctrination when Wei Wuxian starts reciting not the Wen clan principles, but the Lan clan principles! Sure, he lacks the expected respect for sources of authority be they personal or ideological, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t KNOW them. He’s obviously naturally talented, gifted, a fast learner, curious, but also—and crucially—he has a very strong moral compass! He does not tolerate bullies, especially when they turn their attention to the vulnerable, like Wen Chao.(5) Yanli notes that their father always favors those with moral integrity and who does he favor? Wei Wuxian.

And this is where he and Lan Wangji are more alike than Wangji initially thinks, and why I love that moment, just after they release the lanterns, when you see, just for a second, the surprise on his face at the content of Wei Wuxian’s prayer: that he always be able to “stand with justice and live with no regrets.” It is, I imagine, the moment when it really hits Wangji that this rebel he finds himself irrationally attracted to truly is *good* despite the fact that he shows no outward signs of respecting the same sources of moral authority Wangji does.

So what is the main difference? Where the rules come from. Who makes the rules? Both of them are pretty sure they know.

Lan Wangji gets his moment to present his source just after their rooftop duel when he catches Wei Wuxian drinking: the Lan Clan principles chiseled right into stone. All 3000 of them. Interestingly, even though Wei Wuxian can and does memorize the code and seems perfectly happy with the notion of moral principles in general, I’ll wager a guess that he is confused by the very idea that a moral code would be so strict and unchanging and inflexible that it could be chiseled into stone *in the first place* or that it would *need to be memorized*. Surely you’d just...”know?” Besides, morality is too contextual to treat this way surely?

As a CLH (Confirmed Lifelong Heretic) my sympathies admittedly lie more with Wei Wuxian than Lan Wangji. It’s not that traditional codes of ethics and conduct are bad things. These are the things that provide stability across entire cultures and peoples. If they’re written in stone, at least that means they’re something everyone has a greater chance of pointing to and agreeing on.(7) And just as Lan Wangji has to learn that there are moral codes that aren’t written in stone and that individual minds can have very clear senses of right and wrong outside of group structures, Wei Wuxian has to learn to temper his arrogance—that his actions, for however right he *thinks* they are, can and do have consequences he would not intend for those he loves, as when he stops himself from calling to Wangji during the hunt. I have a feeling he’s going to be learning more...

Then there’s that whole conversation from ep. 29 as Lan Wangji prepares to leave the burial mounds which is just full of whammies (set, naturally, against the exceedingly domestic reality of the community as a whole and their exceedingly sweet interactions with a-Yuan). Wei Wuxian says: “But let yourself be the judge of what is right and what is wrong, leave others’ comments aside, and care little about gain and loss. What I should do. I know it very well. I believe that I’ll be able to control it well.” And then there’s that moment where you can actually feel Lan Wangji’s heart drop into the pit of his stomach as he presses his eyes closed.

This is the reverse of the moment when Wangji directed Wuxian’s attention to the list of Lan clan principles, so solid they are written in stone.(8)

Then there is that wonderful bit about their respective paths—Lan Wangji’s path vs. Wei Wuxian’s path: the wide avenue vs the one-log bridge. I assume this is a literal translation of the Mandarin. Is it an idiom? If so, I may mangle its meaning terribly and for that I am sorry. But it seems to me that a wide avenue is safe, easy, populated; a single-log bridge is comparatively dangerous and only one person can walk it. Which seems a pretty good metaphor for the differences in whose rule-book each of the leads chooses. Not to mention, with my Western ears, it sounds a WHOLE lot like a “straight and narrow path.” Interesting then, that it is The Master of Demonic Cultivation who is choosing it, while Lan Wangji—with his brightness and discipline and clarity—is following the “easy” way.

So, there it is: whose deontology is the right one? How do you choose?

It’s the epistemological aspect of the question of ethics that Newbigin gets right in that quote I posted the other day. Honestly, I disagree with a great deal (like, a lot) of what Newbigin says in that book, and I think he spends far too much time running himself in ever tighter Calvinist circles, (not to mention I have little interest in missiology and am highly skeptical of evangelism). But! I appreciate that he does, at least, recognize the danger of believing we have insulated ourselves completely from uncertainty or of expecting that certainty is even a thing possible to achieve.

But where do we choose to anchor our axioms? And why? Whose deontology is the right deontology? The rules written on parchment and stone? Or the rules written on our souls? Remembering, of course, that both are fallible. 16 years in the future, will the two leads have changed their minds at all?

And now with any luck, I’ll have a free weekend in which to watch the last 20 episodes, assuming no one wants me to do adult things like house cleaning or completing design projects people are paying me for.(10)

Like how Tolkien switches register from the low and comedic to the high and romantic but you’re fully aware it’s all really part of the same story and suddenly, bam!, you recognize that those aspects of life are somehow not able to be disentangled.

OMG is this an intentional play on “cultivation”? Sometimes I can’t tell what might be getting lost in translation, and I’m certainly too ignorant of Chinese culture, mythology, and folklore to really appreciate everything happening in this show, not least of which due to the language barrier.

He is, interestingly, far more moved by it than the drawing Wuxian does of *him* two episodes beforehand—is this merely the result of the progression of their relationship? This is post-cold springs after all.

That took some research to understand!

The main “vulnerable” character that he never seems to swoop in to save is Meng Yao and I wonder if it’s because he can sense something “off” about him. I felt bad for Meng Yao at first but he always put me on edge. Honestly, is there anyone who trusts Meng Yao as far as they can throw him? *looks at Elrond* OK, anyone except Elrond?(6)

Honestly, before I started watching this I saw that one of the characters was being referred to as Elrond and I wondered, going into it, if I’d know which character it was, and then Lan Xichen walked in and I was like “oh, yeah, obviously!” Seriously, what is it about him? Is it his physical appearance? The way he holds himself? His outfit? His pattern of speaking? How is this person so obviously coded “Elrond?”

Except they don’t really. That’s never how it works.

And interestingly, when looking at his name: “Wei Ying,  Ying is his 名, meaning, baby; Wuxian is his 字, it comes from an ancient prose “喜乐无羡赏,忿怒无羡刑”, which means when you’re delighted don’t reward without restraint,  when you’re angry don’t punish without restraint. Wuxian here means exercise your power reasonably.”(9)

The richness of the world in this show really appeals to me as does the carefully choreographed costume design, productions design, and cinematography (seriously, everyone needs to dress like this all the time; end of story; I have spoken). There have been some amazing shots that I can only assume are drone footage that have been ADRed?

20 years in and adulthood still sucks. 0 of 5 stars. Would not recommend.

[schoktireviews-blog]

Review: Sorcerer - A Tale of the Last City, David Sarachman

4/5

I was given a copy of this novel in exchange for a review.

I normally discuss what I liked first in a book but I'm reversing that this time around. This book has editing issues. The editor has difficulty with the difference between its and it's, among other things. And there are formatting issues which makes it a bit difficult to read as it is distracting (random tabbing, justification, etc.). But - if you can ignore these things and just read the STORY, this is a fantastic read. The editing/layout is really the only thing wrong with this book.

One of my favourite things about fantasy novels is every read, every universe is different. The author can explain concepts like magic in any manner they like and it is all acceptable. Once in a while, we find a world that does things just a little bit differently and that is exciting. Sarachman does just that. He manages to give a source of magic that is generally considered, and blends magic with a bit of steampunk at the same time. Toss in a few gods, demons, and zombies and the result is a universe we want to know more about.

The story in this book is a good one. There is no way for the reader to assume what is happening next. It is essentially a who-done-it, and we are left wondering right to the very end who it could possibly be despite the same clues given to the reader as the protagonist.

While the setting and story are great, the best part of this book is the characters. The gods are fallible, the demons are lovable, and the main character is relatable. The dialogue between characters is entirely believable, and funny. The main character narrates the story, and the author uses that to great effect to present his personality. For example:

    She could see I was thinking because she said, "I can see you are thinking about this." (196)

This may seem redundant however the author does these types of things in just the right spots to make us love the main character. He recognizes his issues and comments on them frequently; this just makes him far more enjoyable.

   "If what he was became common knowledge it would put not only him, but myself in danger, and since I am allergic to most kinds of danger I would prefer it to remain a secret. Even though I just told you in a very public eating establishment." (168)

Even the love interest bit in this novel, which is a trope almost always unnecessary and over done, is done very well in this story and relevant. It becomes part of the mystery and just one more necessary piece to the puzzle.

While this story does have a distinct ending, it is left open with several questions, which I can only assume are going to be answered in future books. Future books which I will most definitely read.

[funface2]

When We Laugh at Nazis, Maybe the Joke’s on Us – The New York Times

Even if Max Bialystock hadn’t gone to prison for embezzling from the backers of his hit Broadway show, trouble would have found him one way or another. Didn’t he slap his business partner, the accountant Leo Bloom, after dousing the poor man with a glass of water during working hours? And while Max’s hanky-panky with Ulla, the receptionist, may have involved consenting adults, his whole business model was based on trading sexual favors with senior citizens for money. If ever a man in show business was in need of cancellation, it was surely Max Bialystock.

Not a chance! Max is a beloved figure who has, for more than 50 years, inspired not outrage but delight. The man is an institution, an archetype. He turned a song-and-dance spectacle about Hitler into a Broadway smash. Hitler! Max’s exploits have been chronicled in a 2005 movie and a long-running stage musical, both called “The Producers” and both starring Nathan Lane. Long before that, Max was played by Zero Mostel, in the first film directed by Mel Brooks. That original “Producers,” released in 1967 with a very young Gene Wilder as Leo, was a staple of my youth.

Now that fascism seems to be in bloom once again, it is a good time to revisit “Springtime for Hitler,” the show that made Bialystock and Brooks into household names. But like Leo when he first shuffles into Max’s office to audit the books, I’m a little nervous at the prospect.

The question of how much and what kind of fun it’s permissible to have with Nazis never goes away, and the resurgence of right-wing extremism around the world makes the question newly uncomfortable. When “Jojo Rabbit” showed up at the Toronto International Film Festival in September, the fact that it played Hitler at least partly for laughs — with the director, Taika Waititi impersonating a goofy, gangly, almost lovable Führer — you could hear the wincing from across the border. The relative innocuousness of the film (which won the audience award at the festival) doesn’t entirely dispel the uneasiness around it.

If you’re fooling around in the costume of history’s most notorious genocidal maniac, you’re working in proximity to a powerful taboo. Which is exactly what makes Hitler humor irresistible, in particular for Jewish comedians like Brooks and Waititi. (Brooks dressed up as the Führer not in “The Producers,” but in a 1978 television special called “Peeping Times” and then in the 1983 remake of Ernst Lubitsch’s “To Be or Not to Be.”) Such cosplay represents a form of exorcism, a way of appropriating the symbols of terror and hatred and stripping them of their power by exposing their absurd, idiotic banality.

The goose-step clowning in “The Producers” has a long pedigree. The film premiered two years into the run of “Hogan’s Heroes” on CBS, a madcap, Emmy-nominated comedy about a German P.O.W. camp in World War II. One of the prisoners would sometimes dress up as the Führer to bamboozle the hapless commandant, Colonel Klink, and his bumbling minion, Sergeant Schultz. Those guys were always being bamboozled, though Hogan and his pals never did manage to escape.

It was sometimes hard for a kid watching reruns of “Hogan’s Heroes” — as I did nearly every weekday afternoon that Gerald Ford was president — to square the foolishness of Klink and Schultz with the genocidal monstrosity of the real Nazis. Surely it’s in bad taste to take evil so lightly. But in 1967, when “The Producers” came out, World War II was still within living memory for many adults, and so was a wartime tradition of mocking the enemy. Brooks, who attacked the history of comedy with scholarly diligence, was following in the footsteps of two of the great comic minds of old Hollywood: Charles Chaplin and Ernst Lubitsch.

Chaplin’s “The Great Dictator” (1940) turned Hitler — thinly disguised as Adenoid Hynkel, dictator of Tomania — into a blustering, pompous clown, surrounded by snakes and toadies, drunk on ugly fantasies of world conquest. Lubitsch’s “To Be or Not to Be” (1942), set mainly in Poland just before and right after the German invasion in 1939, takes a less fantastical route to a similar destination.

These movies insist that what will defeat fascism — at the time a hope, not an assumption — is not so much military might or political cunning as an attitude that could be called the spirit of comedy itself. The fatal weakness in Hynkel, and in the officious SS men who spoil the fun in Lubitsch’s Warsaw, is their humorlessness. The simple, decent fallibility of the Jewish barber Chaplin also plays (a variation on his Little Tramp persona) is the opposite of the dictator’s buffoonish megalomania. The joke lies in the way the little guy impersonates the big shot, laying bare the empty grandiosity of his will to power.

Imposture is the ethical key to Nazi-mocking, a way of revealing the vanity and stupidity of people who insist above all on their own deadly seriousness. Bullies beg to be humiliated, and comedians are uniquely equipped for the task. In “To Be or Not to Be,” members of a Warsaw theater troupe pretend to be high-ranking Gestapo officers and Nazi operatives, and even Hitler himself. This ability to play, to pretend, to parody isn’t just a matter of professional training. The artistry of the actors — their ability to improvise and crack wise in potentially lethal circumstances — is what separates them from their foes. If the Germans were to win, all the fun would go out of the world.

The Germans didn’t win, of course, but unspeakable things happened anyway. With the terrible knowledge of hindsight, the gentleness of “The Great Dictator” and the high spirits of “To Be or Not to Be” take on a special kind of poignancy. Chaplin and Lubitsch saw the darkness clearly, but they could not yet measure its full depth and scale. Some of the jokes can make you wince. A vain German commandant is tickled to learn — from a fake source — that his nickname back in Berlin is “Concentration Camp Ehrhardt.” “We do the concentrating, and the Poles do the camping,” he says with a chuckle.

It wasn’t the best joke in 1942, and it sounded even more awkward in 1983, when Mel Brooks recycled it in his affectionate, puzzling remake of “To Be or Not to Be” (directed by Alan Johnson, who had choreographed “Springtime for Hitler” in “The Producers”). That film, unlike the Lubitsch version, is hard to find these days, but a snippet available on YouTube features Brooks as a rapping, break-dancing Hitler — a miniature tour de force of bad taste that reprises an immortal rhyme from “Springtime”: “Don’t be stupid, be a smarty/Come and join the Nazi Party.”

It’s funny because everyone knows the opposite is true. The only “real” Nazi in “The Producers” is Franz Liebkind, the author of “Springtime for Hitler,” a German exile too pathetic for any war-crimes tribunal, who keeps pigeons on the roof of his Greenwich Village tenement. His heartfelt tribute to the Führer is taken up by Bialystock and Bloom because they are looking for a surefire flop, a work of such stupendous bad taste that audiences will flee in disgust. But it’s precisely because no one could possibly take Liebkind and his ilk seriously that Max and Leo fail so spectacularly at their attempted failure. Because Franz is manifestly an idiot, any even moderately smart person could only take the show as satire. The triumph of “The Producers” is to suppose a world where the anxious hopes of Chaplin and Lubitsch have come true — where fascism has been expunged, its spell permanently broken by humanism and humor. That’s the world of “Hogan’s Heroes,” too, and also of “Jojo Rabbit.”

But what if we don’t live in that world? For a long time, laughing at historical Nazis has seemed like a painless moral booster shot, a way of keeping the really bad stuff they represent safely contained in the past. It never occurs to Max Bialystock that the audience might respond to “Springtime” as satire, and it never occurred to Mel Brooks that the show might be effective propaganda.

“The Producers” is naughty and silly, but it works to establish boundaries rather than transgress them. It plays with a taboo that it is ultimately committed to upholding. Whether a show like “Springtime” represents absolute bad taste or delicious good fun, it exists in a place far removed from the norms of civilized, rational discourse. A patron can be offended or amused by its nutty Nazis, but no one in their right mind — no one who isn’t operating at the mental and moral level of Franz Liebkind — could find it touching or persuasive. The very possibility of an actual, effective, politically empowered Nazi, a Nazi who could pose a real danger, is unthinkable. And the job of “The Producers” is to keep it that way.

Maybe that was always wishful thinking. In any case, recent history shows that the medicine of laughter can have scary side effects. Fascism has crawled out of the dust pile of history, striking familiar poses, sometimes with tongue in cheek. It has been amply documented that “ironic” expressions of bigotry and anti-Semitism — jokes and memes on social media; facetious trolling of the politically correct; slurs as exercises in free speech — can evolve over time into the real thing. A dress-up costume can be mistaken for a uniform, including by its wearer.

Meanwhile comedians advertise their racist jokes as bold challenges to the tyranny of political correctness, and brand their bigotry as boundary-pushing, taboo-busting bravery. The anti-authoritarian spirit of comedy that flows through Lubitsch and Chaplin to Brooks and his heirs is twisted away from its humanist roots.

At the same time, authoritarian leaders prove impervious to satire. Laughing at how stupid, pompous or corrupt they are doesn’t seem to break the spell of their power. The joke may be on those who persist in believing otherwise. If it were revived today, “Springtime for Hitler” might wind up being a hit for the wrong reasons. Or it might flop because those old Hitler jokes aren’t as funny as they used to be.

I don’t blame Max Bialystock. I find myself envying his misguided faith in the high-minded good taste of the public, even as I cherish Mel Brooks’s belief in our irrepressible vulgarity. Part of me looks back fondly on the days when fascism seemed like history’s dumbest joke. And part of me thinks we’d all have been better off if the opening-night audience at “Springtime for Hitler” had stormed out of the theater in a rage, leaving Max and Leo to make their way safely to Brazil.

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Bài viết When We Laugh at Nazis, Maybe the Joke’s on Us – The New York Times đã xuất hiện đầu tiên vào ngày Funface.

from Funface https://funface.net/best-jokes/when-we-laugh-at-nazis-maybe-the-jokes-on-us-the-new-york-times/

[enashinonome]

sometimes i get mad because i don’t believe i get back as much love as i give but then i remember all the love i’ve withheld from others and the cruel things i’ve thought and said and think that ultimately these things do balance themselves out