President’s Message, January 2022

by Tony Norman, NSNC President

Two weeks ago, I attended a relatively sparse screening of “The Matrix: Resurrections” at a multiplex at a nearby mall.

Like the character Neo played by Keanu Reeves in four installments spanning two decades, I experienced bouts of déjà vu while sitting in the dark watching the movie run through its paces.

In the film, the sensation of reliving a moment one has experienced before is depicted by a cat flickering in and out of time like a piece of badly edited film.

Everyone sitting in the theater that afternoon knew we were watching a film cannibalize its best images from past installments to tell a story that was essentially a rehash of what came before. 

Audiences don’t want an endless Möbius strip of nostalgia shoved down our throats. We want less exposition and more narrative willing to push beyond familiar heroes, villains and the same old story.

The challenge franchise film directors and columnists have in common is to tell fresh stories while ignoring the stupefying layers of jargon and mumbo-jumbo that have come before.

The nostalgia for characters who can strike cool poses while doing ballet in bullet time only goes so far as “Matrix: Resurrections” disappointing box-office confirms.

The sun was setting when I left the theater thoroughly confused more than two-and-a-half hours later.

Driving home, I knew I wouldn’t be able to tease out the meaning of “Matrix: Resurrections” on my own because the narrative was just too dense for my brain. My plan was to consult reviewers who do scene-by-scene breakdowns of sci-fi and comic book-related movies on YouTube.

But a funny thing happened when I sat down at my home-office computer. Suddenly, I really didn’t care what the movie meant. It was behind me. Once on YouTube, I fell down a zillion other rabbit holes for the evening and completely forgot about it.

My takeaway from the whole experience that day is generally applicable across the board: If a piece of cultural production — whether a movie or a column — isn’t written to be easily understood, then there won’t be an audience for it.

Most people aren’t going to take the extra step required to consult experts about the meaning of a movie or column. Life is too short to impose meaning on bad writing.

In recent days, several of my heroes passed on, but only two were renowned for their literary or journalistic skills. South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu happened to be a terrific writer but he is known primarily for holding the powerful to account while protesting the evils of apartheid. He was also a moral anchor for the country during the truth and reconciliation process that followed.

The actress and performer Betty White never failed to make me laugh, no matter how dark a mood I was in. She was a key part of two brilliant ensemble shows that illustrated the value of women’s comedic genius when I was growing up — “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” and “Golden Girls.”

Two of my literary heroes who died on the tail-end of 2021 wrote eloquently about complicated things during complicated times without ever resorting to jargon or inaccessible language.

Both Joan Didion and bell hooks wrote with a moral and intellectual clarity envied by most of their contemporaries. They were writers whose identities were formed in the cultural and intellectual maelstrom of the last century, so they had to be clear.

Reading excerpts from their work included in long appreciations and obituaries is humbling because it is always humbling to be in the presence of great writers, even after they have passed on.

Few writers of any generation wrote about the importance of love and self-acceptance with the fierce intentionality of bell hooks. She spoke to and about the inner lives of Black people — especially women — with intellectual rigor and empathy. It is impossible to read her essays and not come away convinced you’ve had an encounter with one of the wisest people you’ll ever meet.

No one chronicled the grand generational shifts in American life in the middle of the last century with the acuity and breadth of Joan Didion. It is impossible to understand the latter half of that century without reading her essays and journalism. Didion somehow managed to keep the temperature cool in her prose even while chronicling the fires burning at the heart of the American empire.

As I write this, it is a dreary, rainy day in Pittsburgh. It also happens to be the first day of a new year. I’m glad circumstances have forced me to dip into the words of Joan Didion and bell hooks again. Rereading work by two such great writers has rejuvenated me. I feel like I’ve swallowed a big red pill offered to me by some shadowy purveyor of second chances who has been waiting patiently for me to return to my home office desk.

Rereading work by two such great writers in recent days has rejuvenated me. I feel like I’ve swallowed a big red pill offered to me by some shadowy purveyor of second chances who has been waiting patiently for me to return to my home office desk.

This is the first day of 2022. Major changes are afoot for me, and, I suspect, many of you. Turning the calendar page to a fresh year feels good. Let’s embrace the moment to create a Matrix worthy of our hopes and dreams.