Back Down the Spiral

By Sam Watermeier 

"Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable."  — Banksy

This week at Media Matters, we are celebrating an album which does exactly that. March 8 marks the 20th anniversary of Nine Inch Nails' The Downward Spiral, a piece of music steeped in sorrow yet charged with cathartic energy.

Fusing elements of industrial rock, techno, and heavy metal, this album is darkly exhilarating and richly atmospheric.

Garnering both acclaim and controversy (especially when references to it were found in the Columbine killers' journals), this record's rich history is certainly worth remembering. 

A Dazzling Descent Into Madness

"I wanted to make beautiful surfaces that revealed the visceral rawness of open wounds beneath." Russell Mills' intention behind the cover art for The Downward Spiral perfectly mirrors what frontman Trent Reznor accomplished through its songs — harrowing yet inspiringly honest accounts that remind us of the beauty in revealing one's scars. Outpourings about addiction, alienation, and depression, these songs hit you like private confessions. 

The best musicians make stadiums feel like living rooms, and Reznor's confessional songs certainly have that kind of intimate power. 

The late writer David Foster Wallace said art provides "one of the few experiences where loneliness can be both confronted and relieved." A YouTube user confirmed that notion with this comment regarding one of Reznor's most popular songs, "Hurt," a poignant portrait of drug addiction and alienation. 

"I sit solitary and I replay this; I sing along quietly and I drown in my thoughts. But the reason I love it so much is the fact that it gives me so much comfort. I think it's because knowing that someone else wrote it, it makes me feel as if I am not alone."

20 years later, this album maintains that power, and keeps showing new shades of relevance. For example, when I listen to it now, the lyric, "The me that you know is now made up of wires" seems evocative of this digital age in which we're all perpetually plugged-in — power cords to our various electronic devices spreading across our floors like vines in a forest.

I encourage you to unplug, go out, buy this album, and experience it as you would have in 1994 — as a powerful personal journey that connects the particular to the universal, making one man's catharsis your own. 

Happy Birthday, Kurt Cobain

 

By Sam Watermeier

Given our emphasis on the importance of media and those who make it, we would be remiss not to mention the late, great Kurt Cobain, who would have turned 47 today.

As the frontman for Nirvana, Cobain produced thunderous yet intimate music. He made stadiums feel like living rooms. When you watch him perform, he exudes pure, raw emotion, as if he is confessing to the audience. 

Here at Media Matters, we like to celebrate media that is cathartic, media that reaches out and touches its consumers. The best media connects with people. It jumps off the page, ignites the screen, or radiates from your headphones and warms your heart. And that is precisely what Cobain's music did and continues to do. 

Like any great piece of media, Cobain's music communicates in a raw, honest, artful way. Nirvana bassist Krist Novoselic once said Cobain was like a particular piece of art he made — a picture of grocery store meat with an orchid pasted on it, a testament to raw beauty. 

It's a true shame that Cobain is gone, but like any great art, his music will live on forever.

In his honor, you should give it a listen tonight. Here's my personal favorite tune...

True Drama

By Sam Watermeier

Last week, I wrote about the intimate power of television, specifically how a talk show host can make you feel like he is sitting right next to you in your living room.

While "The Tonight Show" exhibited intimate power with its static shot of retiring host Jay Leno bidding farewell to his audience of 22 years, HBO's new series, "True Detective" has demonstrated another major power of television — its ability to make you feel like you are on a roller-coaster ride in your living room.

The crime drama did that quite literally last Sunday night with a six-minute, unbroken tracking shot following detective Rust Cohle (Matthew McConaughey) amid a robbery gone awry. Acting undercover as a member of the Iron Crusaders biker gang, Cohle participates in the robbery in order to gain access to a meth cooker who may be involved in the murder he's investigating.



Tensions rise and bullets fly as the gang raids the stash house and Cohle runs all over the housing project with its leader as a hostage. This unbroken scene is an exhilarating fly-on-the-wall moment that pulsates with you-are-there immediacy. As the show's director, Cary Joji Fukunaga said, this kind of unbroken shot is “the most first-person experience you can get in a film.”

The shot is a visual embodiment of the show — a sustained surge into a world of crime.

Just as Jay Leno's farewell speech was poignant regardless of whether you watch "The Tonight Show," this sequence in "True Detective" works as a stand-alone adrenaline rush. Of course, it is all the more powerful when you are immersed in the show's history and world. 

Whether sitting you in front of a talk show host as he bids farewell to his audience or thrusting you into a crime world, television is immersive. You may watch it in your living room, but it takes you to another world.

A Heartfelt Goodnight

By Sam Watermeier

Thursday evening, Jay Leno bid his final good night to the crew and audience of the talk show he has hosted for 22 years. 

Of course, this was not the first time Leno has said goodbye to "The Tonight Show." In 2009, he moved to prime-time, passing the "Tonight Show" torch to Conan O'Brien, but then reclaiming the show, which NBC offered him after O'Brien's low ratings and time slot conflicts. (Watch Leno's explanation below.)

Thursday night, Leno's explanation behind reclaiming "The Tonight Show" dispelled the popular notion that he acted out of mere show biz selfishness.

"People say to me, 'Hey, why didn't you go to ABC or FOX?'"

"I didn't know anybody over there," Leno said, then describing his NBC crew as family.

It was a humble, selfless speech from a man often accused of being otherwise.

There is more to a show than what meets the eye, Leno illuminated, pointing to: the 64 children of his NBC crew that were born during his time on the air; the fact that his parents and brother died during his first years on the show and the NBC crew became his family, etc.

By getting personal and letting tears strip away his clown makeup, so to speak, Leno revealed the intimate power of television. He turned the auditorium into a living room, and when he said, "I want to thank you, the audience," I felt like he was talking directly to me.

Journalist Edward R. Murrow was right; television can illuminate and inspire. When Leno connected with his audience on a personal, emotional level Thursday night, he further proved Murrow's point that television is not merely wires and lights in a box. 

The Old Switcheroo Made New

By Wendy Faunce

Hana Pesut, a photographer born and raised in Vancouver, BC, began her portrait series titled “Switcheroo” nearly two years ago. Since then, she has taken hundreds of pictures around the globe and published a photo book describing the process.

To participate in “Switcheroo,” couples are required to take two pictures. The first is a simple couple photo. The second is a photo in which the man and woman exchange clothes and mimic each other’s previous stance. The result is more often than not a woman power-stancing in a suit and a man balancing in heals and a dress.

“I think the project shows how far we've come in regards to what is acceptable for men and women to wear,” says Pesut. “[N]ow it seems that almost anything goes.” However, she does not want to assign a specific meaning or gender issue to the series. “I still enjoy just hearing everyone's own interpretations rather than putting an idea out there of what I think it should be.”

That is the beauty of this portrait series. It may be interpreted as a project criticizing gender politics, stereotypes, and the changing boundaries of social norms within society. It also may be enjoyed as a simple and quirky way for couples to reach a further understanding of each other. What is your interpretation?

Private Closets, Public Catharsis

By Sam Watermeier 
 
Media, or any effective rhetoric, links the particular to the universal. 

LGBT activist Ash Beckham did exactly that this week during a TED talk about coming out of the closet.

"At some point in our lives, we all live in closets," she said. "No matter what your walls are made of, a closet is no place for a person to live."

Beckham talked about coming out of the closet in a way I've never heard before. Her speech evokes a startling revelation — the fact that we are all living in closets of some kind.

"Who can tell me that revealing you just declared bankruptcy is harder than telling someone you just cheated on them? Who can tell me that his coming out story is harder than telling your five-year-old you're getting a divorce? Hard is not relative. Hard is hard."

 

Through this discussion of repression and closets, Beckham took what is usually seen as a uniquely gay experience and made it a universal one. 

Her speech inspired me to examine what I repress and to start being honest about my own demons. 

How did the speech inspire you?

Video Blog Premiere: Millennial

Today marks the introduction of an exciting new feature for Media Matters — video blogs. 

Our first video is a look at the intense self-indulgence and scrutiny perpetuated by the digital age. This short film, Millennial, is the tale of a young man literally starving himself whilst wallowing in emotionally malnourishing social media and technology. 

When he’s not counting calories or rigorously exercising, protagonist Nick Holloway (Sam Watermeier) is consumed by media. Perpetually plugged-in and walled off by screens, he embodies the sense of isolation associated with the iPod generation. The film follows Nick as he feeds his obsession and ultimately realizes that his physical withering reflects the social erosion of the world around him.

Part of a longer film project, Millennial ends here on an ambiguous note. Will Nick continue wasting away, physically and socially/spiritually, or is there a light at the end of the dark tunnel in and outside cyberspace? Tell us what you think! 


Millennial from Media Matters: The Public Screen on Vimeo.

Special thanks to Evan Dossey, Wendy Faunce, Eli Ralston, Heath Schlatter, Brent Smith, and Harry Watermeier for their input and contributions to this film.

Subtlety vs. Sensationalism

By Jillian Jenée and Sam Watermeier

Alfreda Giedrojc, a 61-year-old suburban Chicago woman, murdered her 6-month-old granddaughter Sunday, October 6. 

"Her father and grandfather had stepped out of the grandparents' house for a short time when this horrific event took place," Oak Lawn police said.

Giedrojc reportedly laid the child on the floor, pulled a sledgehammer from the closet and hit the baby on both her head and body several times. She then picked up the baby and slit her throat with a carving knife.

This is the same sort of horrific image with which a pro-life group sensationalized abortion on campus earlier this week.

The group, which was trying to spread information about its beliefs, ended up scaring students away with its grisly pro-life posters .

The whole display was an effective reminder of subtlety's power over sensationalism. It reminded us of something The Daily Show's Jon Stewart said about provocation — "If we amplify everything, we hear nothing." 

The anti-abortion group's signs were loud, and students seemed to be covering their ears. Why would a group so strongly against violence employ such an overwhelming barrage of violent imagery? Is news media to blame as an influence? Surely there was a less startling, effective way to convey the message. 

 

Modern Romance

By Sam Watermeier

Frankly, I'm tired of people talking and writing about romantic relationships. I would like to think there is more to life than being romantically involved with someone. Therefore, I usually get upset when I see a trailer for yet another movie that suggests otherwise.

However, the recently released trailer for "Her" presents a refreshing and timely twist — a story of a man who falls in love with the voice of his phone's operating system.



"Her" doesn't seem to be yet another piece of propaganda proposing love as the end-all, be-all of happiness. The film seems to have more to say about the illusion of intimacy in the Internet age. Given how much time we spend on our computers and phones at the moment, a film about a man falling in love with a communication device seems all too timely.

I will probably push past the separation anxiety I have with my computer and leave my laptop to see this film when it is released November 20.

Comic and Cinematic Catharsis

By Sam Watermeier
 
Over the weekend, Media Matters was going to host a screening of "The Crow." We thought it would be a good tie-in with Halloween, as the gothic film revolves around a man who returns from the dead on Halloween night to avenge his fiancée's murder.

Alas, the screening fell through, but it reminded me of what is arguably the most important reason we celebrate and study media — its cathartic power.

"The Crow" is a vivid example of how storytelling can serve as catharsis. Written after writer-artist James O’Barr’s girlfriend died at the hands of a drunk driver, the comic-book source material helped O'Barr overcome his grief. You can feel his pain and catharsis coursing through every panel of the comic book as its hero Eric Draven exacts revenge upon the thugs that killed him and his fiancée.

The 1994 film adaptation is the swan song of its star Brandon Lee, who died tragically while making the film at the tender age of 28. (Lee died during one of the last weeks of production when the metal tip of a dummy bullet was unknowingly lodged in a prop gun and shot into his abdomen.) The juxtaposition of Lee's death and his character's resurrection roots the film in mysticism. The movie feels like an ethereal, otherworldly force — a message from the beyond.

"The Crow" immortalizes Lee and proves the comic book's message that people's spirits never die.

After carrying a few forgettable action vehicles, Lee was clearly ready to step out of the shadow cast by his father, the legendary Bruce Lee. In “The Crow,” he stands firmly on his own, delivering a powerful performance pulsating with energy and pathos.

In "The Crow," Lee's spirit along with that of O'Barr's girlfriend live on. The film and the comic book are testaments to media's visceral impact as well as its immortalizing, therapeutic power.

Did Online Gaming Kill the Couch Stars?

By Sam Watermeier

 

This week on the Media Matters radio show, we're discussing social interaction through gaming. The only gaming experience I have dates back to the late '90s, early 2000s, playing mostly Nintendo 64's "Goldeneye" and "Podracer" with my brother. (He was such a sneaky little jerk, always boosting in front of me at the last second in "Podracer" and winning by a nose.) I'm not sure it was the friendliest form of social interaction, but it was certainly...cathartic. A healthy way of venting anger and energy.

 
Since N64, games seem to have become more intimate and immersive. More cinematic. They seem to be more evocative for individuals, but like I said, I don't do much gaming. So, for thoughts on gaming and social interaction, I turned to friend and gaming connoisseur Brent Smith.

Brent, given the focus on more individual, immersive gaming experiences, I wonder if games still inspire camaraderie between players. How have they changed or confirmed the way you interact with people? 

Brent: Well, sadly, I think gaming camaraderie has taken a bit of a dive. The term for what it was like in the N64 days was "couch co-op", which is the idea that you are merely a couch cushion apart from the person you're playing with. Online gaming was still largely PC exclusive at the time because it wouldn't be until a year or so later with the Dreamcast that a console even had the ability to get online, and it was still expensive and unwieldy to do so. Online play became not only prevalent but almost necessary for the newer systems (Even Nintendo, which has been known to block online interactions because their player base is generally in a lower age bracket, is turning toward an online experience). You throw in the idea of online anonymity and that really wrecks that kind of interactive, "couch co-op" bonding experience unless you are playing with your friends over the network. That said, this is still a generalized answer because you have to look at a community by community basis. The community for "Call of Duty" is largely different than the community for, say, "Defense of the Ancients 2." Valve, the company that created Half-Life, Portal, and so forth, is always working to create a mature community, and in the case of "DOTA 2," it's been working for them to create a better experience for new players. Compared to its contemporary, League of Legends, which is still plagued by a community of angry people who belittle players for being inexperienced.

I'm afraid I'm one of those inexperienced players. Perhaps I should dust off my N64 or try one of these new games. Brent later said something that made them particularly appealing to me as a film fanatic. "Games are like any art form — there are cult hits, major blockbuster productions, and indie darlings," Brent said. 

If you think about it, games offer the best of both worlds for a visual art-lover like me — not only do they immerse us intimately in a world but they allow us to actively interact with it as well. Take the game, "Asylum," an atmospheric indie horror film of a game that allows players to explore a vast mental institute based on blueprints of real asylums. 

This is definitely a game you shouldn't play alone. How about we all cuddle up on the couch and play it?!

Until then, check out WCRD, 91.3, this Saturday from 11 to noon to hear more of Media Matters' thoughts on gaming and social interaction.

Thrills, Chills, and Funhouse Reflections of Society

By Sam Watermeier

Like a surprising number of films this year, "Prisoners" is a work of dark magic — a spellbinding mystery that sucks viewers down a rabbit hole leading to snakes, mazes, and moral murk.

On the surface, it is a tale of two missing girls and the search to find them. Hugh Jackman's character is far more determined to find his daughter than Terence Howard's. Throughout the film, he butts heads with the detective assigned to the case (Jake Gyllenhaal) and eventually takes the law into his own hands.

As Jackman and Gyllenhaal's characters chase the wrong men and resort to violence in order to find answers, the film evokes the trials and tribulations of the post-9/11 Bush administration. When Jackman tortures his daughter's alleged abductor in a grimy abandoned house, you cannot help but recall the abusive atmosphere of the Abu Ghraib U.S. military prison in Iraq.

While the film takes place in a fairly realistic suburban setting, it occasionally feels surreal and otherworldly, such as when Gyllenhaal's character searches a suspect's house whose walls are lined with crude maze drawings and whose bedroom floor is covered with crates full of snakes.

In visualizing or stylizing the character's deviance, this scene reminds us how films can hold a funhouse mirror up to reality. Moviegoers are receiving an even stronger reminder of that from this year's slate of horror films.

Horror is arguably the most imaginatively therapeutic genre, as it holds a surreal mirror up to everyday fears and contemporary issues. 1982's "The Thing," for example, tapped into the fear of AIDS and our nation's warped view of the disease with its story of an infectious alien. And 1979's "Dawn of the Dead" addressed consumerism through its tale of zombies attacking a shopping mall.

This year, the found-footage horror anthology "V/H/S/2" reflected the eerie state of this Internet age in which viral videos blur the line between reality and fantasy. Through its story of a couple that stumbles upon a collection of gruesome video tapes, "V/H/S/2" also addresses our culture's collective morbid curiosity — a curiosity more prevalent in this age where we can find almost anything online.

"You're Next" explores socioeconomic tension with its story of masked murderers who invade a wealthy family's vacation house.

The haunted house thrillers, "The Conjuring" and "Insidious: Chapter 2," on the other hand, tackle more timeless, universal issues of family fragility.

This has been a thrilling year for all sorts of scary movies, and Halloween isn't even here yet! Keep an eye out for more fascinating thrillers, even though you may want to look away.

Although these films scare us, they are ultimately quite cathartic. As director Tobe Hooper ("The Texas Chainsaw Massacre") said, “We live in messed-up times and people are scared and angry. This form of cinema (horror) helps us get some of the poison out of us.”

Hooked to the Net

By Sam Watermeier

The computer is like electronic cocaine.

While that may seem like the kind of hyperbolic intro a college student like me would write to grab attention, it is actually the exact description of cyberspace uttered by Peter Whybrow, the director of the Semel Institute for Neuroscience and Human Behavior at UCLA.

Experts like Whybrow assert that the Internet is infecting us like an addictive drug, "fueling cycles of mania followed by depressive stretches."

While these cycles are certainly visible, most people probably wouldn't take them seriously, treating the notion of Internet addiction the same as the one that TV rots our brains.

Apparently, though, there is actually proof out there that the Internet is changing our brain matter. In a study published last year (and cited in this article), Chinese researchers linked Internet addiction to "structural abnormalities in gray matter," specifically shrinkage of 10 to 20 percent of the brain responsible for processing of speech, memory, motor control, emotion, sensory, and other information. And the more time the surveyed brains engaged with the Internet, the more they showed signs of shrinkage.

Studies like this are still in the chicken-or-the-egg phase in the sense that brain scans don't reveal which came first — the Internet abuse or the brain changes. But many clinicians contend that a link exists between Internet use and impulsive behavior and also that the rise in OCD and ADHD diagnosis is positively correlated to technology use.

A 1998 Carnegie Mellon study linked Internet use over a two-year period to loneliness and depression. Skeptics of the study complained about its lack of range and diversity, specifically the fact that all the subjects lived in Pittsburgh. In the years since that study, numerous other studies have duplicated the Carnegie Mellon findings and expanded them, showing that the more people go online to find comfort, the worse they will feel, as the web displaces sleep, exercise, and face-to-face interaction — all of which contribute to our well-being. Scholars at Case Western Reserve University even correlated heavy social-media use to suicidal thinking. (Isn't that reflective of drug use — something with an initial mood-elevating appeal leading to self-destruction?)

As stated in the hyperlinked article above, "if Internet use is unhealthy, it's clear that many Americans don't want to be well." Most of us stare at a screen for at least eight hours a day. Considering one of the early flags for addiction was spending more than 38 hours a week online, we are all addicts now.

If the Internet is a drug, everyone is doing it. Internet use is encouraged. We're on the Internet right now! The trick is to avoid abusing it. 

Be sure to tune in to 91.3 this Saturday from 11 to noon when Media Matters will further explore the implications of Internet use.

Clicks Away from Happiness

By Sam Watermeier

In his book, "The Paradox of Choice," psychologist Barry Schwartz perfectly summarizes the way I'm sure we all feel when we park ourselves in front of some form of media to find fulfillment. "We are free to be the authors of our own lives, but we don't know exactly what kind of lives we want to write," Schwartz states.

Media gives us writing prompts, so to speak — and enticingly simple, easy prompts for that matter. Countless commercials tell us, “Do ____, and you will be happy.”

In other words, the media — particularly self-help media — has turned us into satisficers, leading us to settle or tunnel-focus on one path to happiness rather than embrace the multitude of routes to it (like maximizers). At least it has had that effect on me. 

When it comes to how I can feel better about myself, I tend to focus on big, tangible goals rather than taking each day at a time and being the best I can be from moment to moment. In other words, I don’t do what maximizers do in terms of considering all possible aspects of my life that I can work on to improve my well-being. Over the past five years or so, I have been almost entirely focused on three goals — getting published, losing weight, and establishing romantic relationships.

In my pursuit of these goals, I basically did what Schwartz suggests in “The Paradox of Choice” — focusing my time and energy on choices in my life that mattered most to me and thereby letting many other opportunities pass me by. However, in hindsight, I think I let too many opportunities pass. For example, when I dabbled in newspaper work, I sacrificed my personal life for a professional one, even to the extent that I took my work with me everywhere, talking about almost nothing but my writing with family and friends.

Although this complete focus on my professional identity was a comforting distraction from my less comfortable personal identity, it prevented me from engaging with other aspects of myself and those around me. Friends’ eyes glazed over when I spoke as if I was dictating an article. “Sam, relax. You sound like a newspaper,” they often said. And they seemed even more frustrated when I beat myself up over not meeting expectations with my writing. I wasn’t myself around people; I was always rehearsing to be the ideal form of myself. And that rehearsal, that distance from the moment, made connections difficult.  

Losing weight isolated me more. I put so much time into shaping up to be more socially confident that I forgot to work on actually socializing, which would have helped even more when it came to starting romantic relationships.
                                                                                                

After all this work — building my creative, professional identity, improving my appearance, etc. — I'm finally in the position I thought I needed to be in to successfully establish romantic connections. But during all this time spent on doing what I thought would make others approve of me, I forgot to explore what I approve in myself. And it's quite difficult to form strong connections with people when you don't feel comfortable connecting with yourself.

I didn’t realize that people already saw good in me, that I had intangible qualities. I thought I needed some tangible thing to be happy with myself and other people. (At least that’s what I thought when I saw ads for eHarmony and Special K.) Those ads create too much pressure and unrealistic expectations. A self-esteem boost from some product or endeavor should be a secondary side effect, not the primary motivation for jumping into anything. We need more ads like the one below, ads that remind us of our inherent potential and encourage us to embrace it rather than making us feel like we have to construct it.

While satisficing may be a good way to avoid the stress of excess choice, I’ve realized that it can also be detrimental. We live in a world that tells us all we need to do is find a career or lose weight or get a girlfriend to make us happy. It’s not that simple. The key to happiness is much less tangible. It’s about feeling comfortable with yourself first, even before you head over to eHarmony or hit the gym. But learning to love yourself isn’t as easy — or marketable — as popping a pill or the notion of quickly choosing a flattering outfit. When those actions don’t work, it’s a relief to know that there are other choices out there, other paths to happiness that we can traverse. What the media doesn’t tell us is that it’s a hard road. Happiness is not just a click away.