Tag: Zack Snyder

The Persuasion Filter and the DCEU

I know it’s been some time since I’ve posted.  The fact is, I was so disappointed about what Warner Bros. did to Zack Snyder’s Justice League that I couldn’t even write a review of the… thing… we got, and that took me out of blogging mode.  That coupled with the need to not put my entire novel online, left us with the tumbleweeds you probably notice all over this blog.

But, although I haven’t been writing, I’ve still been thinking, and not only that, but I’ve been getting a clearer handle on my worldview.  So when I posted about politics, I talked at some length about narratives and perceptions.  And what I’ve realized in the time since then, is that this is all part of a bigger picture: persuasion.  Politics has always been about persuasion, and the most persuasive candidate is usually the one who wins the election.  Simple as that.  The media, whether Fox or CNN or anyone else, has their particular bias and that can be persuasive but it also plays into confirmation bias, which is to say we all like to watch whatever news makes us feel good about what we already think.

But persuasion exists beyond politics.  In fact it exists all around us.  Sales is based on persuasion, and in business sales equals success.  So the most persuasive salesperson is the most effective; the business that manages its branding the most effectively, is the most successful.  Branding, by the way, is a type of persuasion.  It even happens with churches – especially the charismatic churches.  There’s a growing church in this area called Lifepoint Church.  We all wondered how they were growing so rapidly and I finally saw them in action the other day.  They came to my place of work to buy a bunch of food to feed the hungry.  Which is awesome, of course.  But I noticed the way the organization had arranged it, they made this simple act into an event that raised their visibility.  That is to say, the people of the church all came out in a humongous sea of humanity, wearing Lifepoint t-shirts that were red, and which bore the slogan “PAINT THE TOWN RED.”  They all came out at once, and they all had a shopping list that had been given them, and they bought whatever they were asked to buy and donate.

I had to try and figure how that fit with the gospel, where Jesus says when you do something good not to tell anybody but just do it and keep it to yourself, because it shouldn’t be about glory or recognition but just about doing a good thing.  Then I realized that Jesus in his own way was persuasive.  He didn’t just walk around preaching across the countryside, he healed the sick and the blind and raised the dead, cast out demons, and turned water into wine.  And in the end, he went to his death without uttering a word, allowed himself to be stripped and beaten, the flesh flayed off his back, and was nailed to a cross in full view of the public.  He didn’t just talk a lot.  He put himself out there, and put everything on the line.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., understood this principle in the way he approached his wing of the Civil Rights Movement.  There was persuasiveness in being nonviolent, in letting themselves be attacked by dogs, by policemen with clubs, by men with fire hoses; there was persuasiveness in going to jail and showing that the cause was so righteous that none of these indecencies could take away their dignity.  King’s speeches were persuasive, too.  He didn’t attack people, he attacked policies, and he tried to reach hearts and minds, to appeal to the common humanity in all people.

Now, Lifepoint Church’s techniques aren’t this dramatic because there’s no danger in what they’re doing; but they absolutely are persuasive.  They make themselves visible, they show you that they are an active church that does good things for the community.  It makes people want to be a part of their organization.  That’s just excellent persuasion.  And maybe, when it’s getting people involved in something that actually IS making a difference…maybe it’s a good thing.

So, let’s bring this principle to film, or specifically to the promotion of film.  In the years since Harry Knowles and the other first-generation independent online entertainment journalists opened a pipeline between fans and the entertainment industry beyond the sale and redemption of tickets, we have seen the major film studios learn how to work that system to their advantage.  And the system has evolved, so that now it’s based as much on YouTube as anywhere else.  People are making money just making YouTube videos where they blab about stuff they know little to nothing about.

Disney, being the largest and most successful studio at this point, knows how to make this work for them.  They invite entertainment journalists – both the legitimate ones and some of the more successful internet pundits – to tour the sets, to interview the stars and the creators.  Disney treats them like they’re special.  Now, that’s just good business.  Can you see why?  If you’re a schmoe with a YouTube channel that’s really taken off and you have a couple million followers, you’re feeling kind of like a celebrity yourself.  And to have done all that work, that has to have been what you wanted.  You wanted to be a voice, to be a part of the entertainment industry, even if only on the fringes.

So, by inviting you to the set, a studio, in this case Disney, legitimizes you.  They’ve given you something you want.  They’ve given you access, let you in the door.  They’ve fed you.  They (hopefully) stopped short of the reach-around.  But the other side of that, is they’re effectively making you an ally.  When you go to write about your experience, you’ll have had fun, and your writeup will reflect that.  Or when you make your YouTube video.  Therefore, when you go to the theater to watch the finished film, you’ll feel a sense of ownership because you were there when it was all happening.  You’ll have a ton of fond memories that make you light up just watching the film.  And you’ll probably feel a bit of an obligation to pay them back for the good time, by giving them a good review.  Especially because you want to be invited back next time.

Disney, in fact, does EXACTLY what I’ve just described.  They’re known for it.  Warner Bros., on the other hand, is notorious for being very bad at this game.  Warners, to put it bluntly, doesn’t kiss nerd butts.  Now, that alone isn’t enough to generate negative reviews, obviously.  That won’t happen on its own.  But there’s this DC and Marvel rivalry that has existed since Marvel Comics came to be in the 60’s.  And it’s only natural.  DC and Marvel are competitors.  Like Coke and Pepsi.  Ford and Chevy.  Beatles and Stones.  McDonald’s and all that is good and holy.

So there’s already a pre-existing tendency to choose sides between DC and Marvel.  If you’re a blogger getting your butt kissed by Disney, and being treated as insignificant by Warner Bros., well, that’s going to decide your bias for you real quick.  If you have to pick a side, you’ll pick the side of the butt-kissing every time.  Human nature being what it is.

So the bloggers and the vloggers went out and trashed BvS because it wasn’t a Marvel picture, and nobody at Warners ever even offered them a handy.  It probably wasn’t even a conscious choice.  They thought they were doing their duty.  Now you’ll say, “but wait!  The bloggers and the vloggers and the critics weren’t the ONLY ones who hated the movie, a lot of moviegoers did, too!”  And that’s fair.

Except that a five-minute conversation with the average moviegoer who hates BvS yields, consistently one result: none of them can name a legitimate reason why they dislike the film.  None of them can describe one actual thing about the film that was bad.  And when you counter them, point-for-point, most of them just move the goal posts.  They have to make up stuff that isn’t true, to explain why they don’t like the movie.  You know what that’s a tell for?

Cognitive dissonance.

They BELIEVE the movie is bad, but they don’t know why.  And they can’t accept being wrong, or having been duped.  So they hallucinate all kinds of reasons why the movie was bad.  Which probably indicates they didn’t form their own opinion, here, they sided with their favorite internet personality, or they simply chose Marvel over DC because Marvel movies are good so DC movies can’t be.

Now, here’s Warners’ second mistake.  When they realized they had a branding problem after BvS, they pulled the rug out from under Zack Snyder and made Joss Whedon ruin Zack’s movie.  Yeah, no, that’s what happened.  They MADE Joss ruin Zack’s movie.  I don’t think Joss was like, “I’ll just piss all over everything, here.”  Joss is actually a pretty talented guy.  Warner’s told him, “Zack’s movies aren’t working well for our brand, so make the movie short and funny.”  And Joss said, “um…well I guess if I don’t my career’s going to take a hit, so, this sucks, but at least I’m getting paid.”  Probably.  I mean, I can’t read his mind.

But here’s why this was bad persuasion.  In the first place, it says, “everything we’ve done so far has been bad,” which is throwing under the bus every fan who has paid to own the DC movies and to see them in the theater so far.  It’s throwing under the bus every fan who went in prepared to love BvS and did.  It’s throwing under the bus Zack Snyder, and his wife Deborah, who worked their asses off for years, starting with Man of Steel, to get the DCEU up and running.  In short, it was brand suicide.  It did not persuade anyone who hated the DCEU already, to come see Justice League.  It displeased the diehards who love Zack’s films.  It produced a film for exactly NOBODY.  Justice League the theatrical cut, or “Josstice League,” as some are calling it, is a film for nobody.  It landed with a splat and nobody gave a damn.

Now, here’s the good news.  Warners cleaned house.  All the idiots responsible for these dumb decisions are gone.  Kevin Tsujihara (the King of the Idiots) is out.  Walter Hamada is in.  There are rumblings of many varied projects, which are not all connected.  That sounds off-putting at first, but it could potentially be a great idea.  Here’s why.

It sets up multiple paths to success.  They’ll make some darker films, some lighter films; some low-budget films, and some big-budget ones.  They’ll see which ones audiences respond to most, and then they’ll make more of those.  That’s a good strategy.  It makes me think maybe Mr. Hamada has a good persuasion game.  Maybe he’s going to right some wrongs.

This is backed up by the fact that Warners now actively kisses nerd butts.  Embargoes lifted today for Aquaman set reports.  The trailer drops at SDCC this coming weekend.  And it has been officially confirmed that the #SnyderCut of Justice League exists.  It has not yet been confirmed that it is coming, but there have been a lot of hints, both from Zack Snyder on Vero and from others as well, including Jay Oliva, Zack’s storyboard artist, and Aisha Tyler, the host of the DC panel at the upcoming SDCC.

If Hamada is the persuader and strategist I think he is, this would be a brilliant play.  The bloggers and the vloggers and the journalists have been saying for months that the #SnyderCut doesn’t exist.  For them to be proven wrong in so big a way, would jolt a lot of people out of their mental cages.  Bust some bubbles.  And it might signal the dawning of a new age.  I could be getting ahead of myself, of course.  We’ll probably have a clearer picture, one way or the other, next Saturday.

But until then, I leave you with this food for thought.

Oh, and one other thing:

#ReleaseTheSnyderCut

A good decision (left) and a bad one (right), as solutions to the same problem.

 

Geek Salad: Fandom and the Business of Film

I talk a lot about the art of filmmaking.  Or I suppose I give critiques of movies the way I learned to do with art pieces during my art training years ago, looking at the positive and the negative and trying to be fair and honest in my assessments.  Which for me means I am treating films as an art form, which I think is fair since film is an artistic medium.

However, filmmaking is also a business, and when we talk about the decisionmaking process behind the movies, quite often it’s the business that informs it.  For instance, when we look at the recent announcement that Ron Howard is replacing Phil Lord and Chris Miller in the director’s chair for Lucasfilm’s latest Star Wars Anthology film, the currently untitled Han Solo project, it raises questions about the artistic integrity of the film, even as we understand that this was a business decision.  Scuttlebutt is that Lucasfilm President Kathleen Kennedy and screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan had a difficult relationship with Lord & Miller.

Han Solo Cast
Woody Harrelson’s face makes me wonder what the hell everybody is grabbing.

Lord & Miller are, after all, known primarily as comedic directors.  But likewise we have been told that the Anthology films are meant to be different from the Saga films, to really let directors explore new kinds of Star Wars stories.  Let us also remember that Kennedy and her team at Lucasfilm hired Lord & Miller to direct this movie.  Nobody foisted the directors on them, they didn’t inherit the duo, this was a hiring decision they made, knowing who these guys were.  Now, last year’s “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story” directed by Gareth Edwards, wound up getting heavily re-shot by someone not named Gareth Edwards.  The film was restructured in the 11th hour, apparently to make it more like the saga films, and now Kathy Kennedy has fired Lord & Miller from the Han Solo picture.

Kennedy has a responsibility to protect the legacy of the Star Wars brand, but my read is that she’s somewhat conflicted between wanting to explore what a Star Wars film can be, and making sure that she protects the model of what a Star Wars film already is.  The result is almost guaranteed to be another safe and familiar, if entertaining, film.  I have not seen a single film that Lord & Miller have made, but these are the guys who cast Alden Ehrenreich to play young Han Solo, and Donald Glover as Lando Calrissian, and damn if I didn’t want to see the movie they were making, good or bad.  Now nobody ever will.  That feels a little tragic.

On the other hand, there’s also a rumor going around that Lord & Miller, who previously met with Warners and DC about directing “The Flash” before stepping away to do the Han Solo picture, met again with the DC films people during a recent hiatus from filming their Star Wars project, suggesting a possible return to DC.  For a DC comics guy like me, that’s an interesting prospect.  The mostly unfounded stigma against the DCEU is finally lifting, with the success of Wonder Woman, and a good Flash movie, free of all the soap-opera garbage of the CW show, would be a welcome addition to the lineup.

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Actual photograph of Ezra Miller in the vault where Warners is keeping him until they find a director for his movie.

Shakeups like this are still more common than I’d like to think.  Look at how many of the Marvel films have lost directors, for example.  Before she directed Wonder Woman, Patty Jenkins was up for Thor 2:  The Dark World, but departed the project because Marvel Studios had certain requirements that a Thor sequel needed to meet and Jenkins wasn’t going to be able to tell the story she wanted to tell.  Before Ryan Coogler came onboard for Black Panther, Ava Duvernay was attached to that project.  Peyton Reed replaced Edgar Wright on Ant-Man.  Joss Whedon quit Marvel after Avengers: Age of Ultron because hitting a checklist isn’t as fun as telling a story.  I think this has a lot to do with the reason Marvel mostly hires TV directors these days to do their movies.  It’s about having workman directors who are cheap, controllable, and who can’t afford to let ego get the better of them.  It’s like the time George Lucas hired Richard Marquand to direct Return of the Jedi.  In the end none of the Marvel movies are bad, but none of them are great, either.  They are entertaining and provide a reasonable ROI, and as long as that is true they are going to keep making them the same exact way.  Same with the new Star Wars movies.  If there’s money in it, Kathy Kennedy will keep pushing for more of the same.

DC has had their share of directorial shakeups too, of course.  Patty Jenkins actually replaced Michelle MacLaren on Wonder Woman, and The Flash has had numerous directors attached at various points.  Franchises are tricky, they’re not solely about a director’s artistic vision, they are also about building a brand and making money, and studios work hard to find directors they like, who they feel have a vision that suits their needs.  In other words, the art takes a backseat to the business.  As expensive as these movies are to make, that can’t be a surprise to anyone.

We can reach back even further, to the Salkinds ditching Dick Donner for Superman II, or Warners booting Tim Burton off Batman Forever.  What sets the modern age apart is guys like Kevin Feige and Geoff Johns, whose job it is to balance between the studio’s need for bankability, and the legacy of their respective brands.  But Geoff Johns, the DC guy, is a fairly recent addition to the staff at DC Films, and what I think a lot of the fans forget, is that while DC Films is pretty new, Warners has been in the business of making DC films for a long time, and while most of those films are not in DCEU continuity, there’s another kind of continuity at work: it is, after all, the same studio that has been making DC films since 1978.  The reality is, that’s a continuity of business decisions for them.

batman-robin-movie
Unfortunately, this was one of those decisions.

Essentially, every DC film from Superman: The Movie to Green Lantern, informs the genesis of the DCEU.  Take Batman ’89 for example.  It was a fight for Michael Uslan to get a serious Batman movie made at Warners at that time, and landing Burton to direct was crucial to making that happen.  Warners loaded the film with big-name talent to try and trade on star power, a tactic the entire 90’s Batman franchise would repeat to increasingly comical effect.  That’s a practice that Dick Donner and the Salkinds employed with Superman; although Christopher Reeve wasn’t a big name, that film had Marlon Brando, Gene Hackman, Glenn Ford, Jackie Cooper, and Ned Beatty.

Batman was a huge success, and Warners greenlit a sequel and re-signed Burton and most of his cast.  Since dark, serious Batman had worked out for them, they let Burton do what he wanted, and the result was Batman Returns, a film that even a lot of people in my generation don’t like.  It didn’t do as well ast the box office, and Burton was booted for Batman Forever.  Michael Keaton walked away soon afterward, and we wound up with Joel Schumacher and Val Kilmer.

Batman Forever was fun, and tried to strike a balance between camp and the drama inherent to the character.  It was also extremely toyetic, stuffed full of colorful characters with lots of costume changes so that action figures could be sold.  The result is a movie that was fun in the summer of 1995, but is often cringeworthy in revisits, and squarely of its time.  However, it was a huge success, bigger even than Batman ’89, and that prompted Warners to rehire everybody for its sequel.  Val Kilmer dropped out, though, having other commitments, and was replaced by George Clooney.  Batman & Robin took all the worst aspects of Batman Forever – the cheesy jokes, the camp, the over-saturated color palette, the gratuitous redesigns and alternate costumes in order to sell toys.  The hiring of big name actors had devolved into getting Arnold Schwarzenegger to portray a tragic villain.

Arnold Freeze
What killed da dinosaurs?  DIS MOVIE!

It’s worth noting that all of this happened at a time when the internet was just arriving as the seat of all fandom, and Batman & Robin became the first casualty of internet fan rage.  It was totally deserved, the movie was awful, and the internet pounced on it like sharks on chum.  Warners retired Batman for some eight years.  DC Superheroes mostly retreated to television, the realm of animated series and CW melodramas.  But Warners, and every other studio, began using the internet as an access point to the fandom, hoping in this way to keep a finger on the pulse.

In the interim, Warners looked at bringing Superman back to cinemas, and hired Tim Burton to do it.  That’s a strange pairing, and one that resulted in Nicholas Cage being hired to play Superman.  Thank God that never came to pass, but it’s one of the stranger chapters in this history.  Brett Ratner and JJ Abrams took a pass at making Superman.  The studio also considered doing Batman: Year One, and even began developing a Justice League movie to be directed by Mad Max’s George Miller.

george-miller-justice-league-movie-megan-gale-wonder-woman
Megan Gale’s costume test for George Miller’s Justice League.  This is a thing that almost happened.
the-death-of-superman-lives-what-happened
Unfortunately, so is this.  Nicolas Cage costume test for Tim Burton’s “Superman Lives.”

When Batman returned in 2005, or, more specifically, Began, Christopher Nolan made it easy for audiences to believe a man could dress up like a bat and punch bad guys.  Nolan cited Superman: The Movie as one of his references, saying Donner’s approach to using big names in key supporting roles was a strategy he appreciated, and that thinking gave us Michael Caine as Alfred, Gary Oldman as Jim Gordon, Liam Neeson as Ra’s al Ghul/Henri Ducard, and Ken Watanabe as Ubu/Decoy Ra’s.  Nolan also wasted no opportunity to take moments that were some of the greatest failures of the Burton-Schumacher films, and invert them.

Note, for instance, that in Batman Forever, Riddler and Two-Face ambush Alfred and beat him over the head with a cane before blowing up the Batcave and trashing Wayne Manor; in Batman Begins, when Ra’s al Ghul and the League of Shadows set fire to Wayne Manor, it is Alfred, armed with a golf club, who beats a goon over the head and makes his way through the burning mansion to save Bruce.  As a second example, just to prove that I’m not making this up; at the end of Batman ’89, Batman tethers Joker by the ankle to an apotropaic figure using his grapnel, which ultimately results in Joker’s death.  In the Dark Knight, Batman tosses Joker out of an incomplete skyscraper, then uses his grapnel to catch him by the ankle and leave him for the police.  The DK trilogy is full of these little mulligans.

In 2006, following the success of Batman Begins, Warners heisted Bryan Singer away from Fox’s X-Men franchise (where he was replaced by Brett Ratner) and gave him the keys to Superman.  Superman Returns, while a decent Superman movie, was a love letter to the Salkind-era Christopher Reeve movies.  It told a story that amounted to a remake of Superman and Superman II, pitting the Man of Steel against Lex Luthor yet again.  Fans complained that the film was boring and there was nobody for Superman to throw a punch at.  The film underperformed at the box office.

In 2008, “The Dark Knight” crushed it at the box office, and Marvel launched the MCU the same year.  By 2009 Warners killed Bryan Singer’s sequel to Superman Returns, and began developing Man of Steel.  Then 2011 gave us Green Lantern, which looks for all the world like DC’s attempt to replicate the Marvel Formula.  It didn’t replicate it successfully, though, and the result, though entertaining, was a total misfire.  The following year saw Nolan’s third and final Dark Knight film, and then Man of Steel in 2013, produced by Christopher Nolan and his wife Emma Thomas, along with Debra Snyder, Zack’s wife.  It was a clear reaction against the failure of Green Lantern and Superman Returns.  It was also the film that finally launched the DCEU: a Superman movie made in the style of Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy.  They even did the thing where they cast a mostly unknown actor in the lead role and surrounded him with veterans like Russell Crowe, Kevin Costner, Diane Lane, and Laurence Fishburne.  Yet, audiences were divided.  Finally Superman had somebody to punch, and Henry Cavill was perfectly cast, but the film was misunderstood by many.  Where Returns had been accused of not having enough action, Man of Steel was castigated for having too much.  Where people reacted against Returns being too much of a Donner retread, Man of Steel was reproached for not having the tone of the Salkind films.

batman-v-superman-trailer-screengrab-4
Superman bearing the weight of fanboy bitching.

I have to believe that at this point, Warners was feeling like nothing they could do would make a Superman movie successful, which is probably why the sequel to Man of Steel was a Batman movie.  Audiences seem to like Batman better, if you’re looking at the numbers.  The tone of both MoS and BvS, that so many people reacted negatively towards, I would say was a simple decision for a studio that had just had success with the Dark Knight Trilogy, and failure with Superman Returns and Green Lantern.  They just followed the money.  BvS underperformed too, but it did much better than MoS.

At this point, David Ayers’ Suicide Squad was reshot to emphasize more humor, and was turned into what amounts to a feature-length music video.  And then there’s Wonder Woman.  As I wrote in my review last week, Wonder Woman definitely feels like a reaction to the general audience reception to MoS and BvS, and while I think Wonder Woman is a good movie, I also think the balancing act that it has to do is awkward and lets it down a little bit at the end, though not enough to ruin the film.  Warners and DC, though, have spoken openly about trying to create an environment where directors are free to work and to put their stamp on their films.  When they let Michelle MacLaren go, it was because her vision wasn’t the one they wanted, but once they brought Patty Jenkins onboard, they knew they were all on the same page and they mostly stayed out of her way.  That’s probably what puts Wonder Woman above the average Marvel film for me.  I hope that approach continues.  I’d rather have movies, whether hugely successful like Wonder Woman or underperformers like MoS or the BvS Ultimate Edition, that are good, well-made films the directors stand beside and are proud of, than have a gaggle of garbled messes like Suicide Squad cluttering up the theaters.

In the end, this is why I end up writing so much about movies, and why I have a long history of arguing with people on the internet:  I know the studios are listening, and if I like a movie I’m not going to keep it to myself.  Arguing with a random stranger probably won’t change that stranger’s mind, of course, but for people reading the comments section, seeing a reasoned argument about why BvS is great, for instance, may be the incentive for some who had avoided it, to check it out.  And maybe some of those folks will enjoy it.  So when I debate, when I argue, when I converse… it isn’t necessarily for your benefit, or for mine, but for other people.  For studios and directors I think have done a good job.  For people who might like the movie but haven’t seen it yet due to something their friends said.  The internet has given us all a certain amount of power.  Let’s use it responsibly.

The Wolf and the Warrior

Recent events – in name, the death of Chris Cornell and the news about Autumn Snyder, Zack Snyder’s daughter, has made me decide that it’s time to talk about my depression.  I don’t talk about it a lot, except with my closest friends.  I’m not embarrassed about it or ashamed of it, it’s just that I’ve never been to a shrink, I’ve never been diagnosed.  Only recently, within the last few years, have I learned that it runs in my family.  I’ve dealt with it in some form for most of my life, and it’s the reason I write, the reason I used to draw non-stop.  It’s my voice.  The voice of a guy who can’t use his real voice because a lot of the time it doesn’t work; it skips and scratches like a broken record, and it isn’t a pretty  voice, nor an exceptionally manly one.  A deviated septum, possibly sustained during childhood when I jumped off one of those Masonite slides at a friend’s house and bashed my face onto a brick hearth, gives it a honking, nasal tone that is flatly unattractive.

Anyway, I’ve never been diagnosed with depression, and I don’t see the point in going to a shrink because I wouldn’t accept meds even if they were deemed necessary, and in any case I certainly don’t have it to the extent that others do.  I’ve never been suicidal.  I can say that for a certainty, though I can admit that there’ve been times where I hated being alive, and couldn’t imagine a day when I wouldn’t.  Those were dark times, and I don’t dwell there.  That is not my life.  That is not what God wants for me.  That is not His plan.

Therein is one of the secrets to my dealing with it: faith.  It would be a lie to say that I haven’t had my struggles with faith, though, too.  I remember one time, back at my parents’ house, having been broken up with by yet another young lady, I collapsed on the floor between my bed and my dresser, in the corner with the subwoofer, my back against the actual wall, tears streaming down my face, wondering what in the hell was wrong with me that nobody wanted me, my mom came in and knelt down in front of me, trying to cheer me up, and she asked me if I had prayed.  I remember this because the words that came out of my mouth were like black sludge, like poison, and I bear the shame of them every day.  I ever worked it into one of my books, “The Disciple of Cardonn.”  I told my mom, “the son of a bitch doesn’t listen.”  I regret those words with all my heart.  I may apologize to the Lord for those words every day of my life; I know I was forgiven the first time I did so.  But I will always be ashamed that I ever said them.  What I have learned in the years since, is that it’s pointless to expect things to go my way, and that most of the heartache and the worry and sense of doom and defeat I have encountered in my life, has come from thinking that I could control how things would play out, and being emotionally and intellectually unable to accept the reality when it didn’t meet my expectations.

I watched a few documentaries about castles in Great Britain and Ireland, recently; and one of them, a fortress called Warwick Castle, there’s a dungeon which is really just a dark, claustrophobic stone pit with a mud floor and a chute from the privy, so that the guy who lived in the castle would literally crap on his prisoners.  As a metaphor for certain periods of my life, the dungeon of Warwick Castle is imprecise, but it will do.  When you try to force things to go your way, and they don’t, you rather have the feeling of being in a dungeon where it is raining crap.  You don’t know how you got there, or why.  You would give quite a lot to be shut of it.

But of course this is disappointment, not depression.  Depression, however, makes it tough to handle disappointment.  Because every disappointment becomes cataclysmic in scale.  Way back in my college days, dealing with the disappointment of heartbreak for the first real time, I wrote a poem.  I don’t remember it; it is probably long gone, and in any case was most likely garbage.  But I had a turn of phrase that I thought was very clever at the time, and looking back on it, it was describing depression: I spoke of having some unknown condition of the mind “that makes mountains of molehills, and molehills of mountains.”  The point being that you get focused on the wrong things and find yourself disproportionately upset about them.  It can be very hard to recognize that, when you’re in the middle of it.  Because your brain is affected.  You are malfunctioning.

I talk about heartbreak a lot because my loneliness and whatever sort of mild depression I have, make mountains out of a simple thing like the end of a relationship.  It takes me forever to get right again after that happens.  The older I get, the longer it seems to take.  Like skin getting less pliable with age, so does my heart.  But my emotional disturbance doesn’t live solely in the realm of heartbreak.  I have a kind of sine wave of general happiness; it goes up and down.  I hit a peak for a few days where I am downright gregarious, laughing and joking with complete strangers, surprisingly bold with the ladies; then it passes and I start slowing down, drooping, sleepy all the time, lethargic, sullen.  I don’t want you to talk to me, but I didn’t tell you to leave.  Get back here and leave me the hell alone.  During this low point, I can’t even bear to hear people laughing.  I hear people laughing and I want to punch the living hell out of all of them.  I see my red door, I must have it painted black.

I’m learning to recognize it for what it is.  To understand that I need to be less affected by stuff I can’t control.  I need to quit giving things power over my life.  Ups and downs are natural, but the sine wave, not so much.  And what happens, then, is that love, on those rare occasions when I find it, is like a mug of beer and a shot of bourbon in the hands of an alcoholic.  Suddenly the sine wave is disrupted; I am up up up and flying.  And I don’t want it to ever end.  When it inevitably does, I come down like an atom bomb out of the belly of a B-29.  And I mean I crater epically.  In the end it doesn’t so much level the sine wave, as exaggerate it.

So, I no longer actively search for love.  I fear putting myself through that again, for the wrong woman, will destroy me.  If I can find stability, by myself, then I will be a better partner when the time comes.  Whatever God has in mind, I will follow the steps He lays out for me and not try to force my own will upon it; that way lies only ruin.   I am fortunate that I have this ability to introspect and sort through not only my feelings, but the reasons for them.  It keeps things from getting away from me.  When I understand that my feelings aren’t rational, I can dissect them and find the root causes.  The last time heartbreak came to me, I remember sliding down again, and realizing what I was experiencing was an emotional hangover, and knowing that, I was able to put some perspective on it, and prayerfully face it.

Now, it’s been a couple of years.  My feelings for her remain, but I know that they are not requited.  I exist, with this emotional reality staring at me like a lone wolf from the forest’s edge.  Sometimes I can only see the light reflecting off its eyes.  It’s there.  I am not very sad.  But I am not very happy.  I am in the field, and the wolf is in the woods, and we regard each other.  I could go into the woods.  I could dwell there, and snarl at people and howl at the moon, and hunt some kind of satisfaction, some fleeting victory.  I could bare my teeth and spring away into the brush.  Because that wolf is just the other part of me.  The thing I would become if I let the darkness in.

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But I remain in the field, where I can see the light of the sun, and the stars, and the moon.  From a distance away, I hear people laugh, and I want to punch them, but I don’t.  I exist.  It is lonely.  I am lonely.

Three times in my life, I can remember hitting bottom, and each time has been lower than before.  The first, was when I left home to start school at Longwood College 1994.  I did not have a direction in life, and I did not want to go to college, at least until I knew what I wanted to do with my life.  However this option was not allowed me.  I have never done well with change.  Four people were my entire world: my parents, and my friends Steven Lowry and Jeremy Bertz.  Those four people were my support system, they kept me sane and kept me laughing and kept me from feeling too alone.  Leaving all of that behind, going to a place far way with nothing but strangers, filled me with anxiety and dread.  I did not realize that I had a kind of anxiety, but I’m sure now that I do, and like the other things, it has only intensified with age.  When I got to Longwood, I was placed in a dorm room with Drew, a tall, quiet guy with a strong observational wit, and Chris Blauert, basically a shitty version of Chris Pine.

The three of us shared a suite with Jay, who looks like the love child of David Hasselhoff and Joel Osteen; Justin, who used to spray a cloud of deodorant in the air and walk through it; and Andy Banyasz, a cynical, ballcap-wearing Mac user.  I liked all of them except Shitty Chris Pine, but none of them particularly liked me, and in any case, I was panicking, full of the shock of being away from home, having to live with people who listened to The Pixies, and ruined my sleep by spending all evening socializing across campus and then coming home and turning the light on to do homework at 2am when I had an art class at 7.  The truth is, I was unprepared in almost every way for being away from home, and I was depressed, and I didn’t understand it, and thus I didn’t know how to face it, and I desperately needed a support system, but instead I mostly got bullied and it only got worse.  I’m sure I was insufferable.  I was depressed, what the hell else would I be to a bunch of guys just trying to drink beer and get laid, than an insufferable bastard?  Of course I was.  I hated every minute of my freshman year.  At the beginning of the second semester, Drew and Shitty Chris Pine kicked me out of the room, forcing me to find residence elsewhere.  I benefitted from this by getting a room to myself, but I had to share a suite with two frat turds whom it would be possible to compare to apes, if one felt like insulting apes.  I remember one night, laying on my bed in my half-furnished, cold, cinder-block dorm room, crying, a voice telling me just jump out the window.  I wanted to be anyplace other than college.  Anyplace other than Farmville, Virginia.  The thing that stopped me, was the realization that the only thing worse than staying in college would be disappointing my parents, or worse, hurting them.

The second time was about six years later.  I was working at a print shop in Fredericksburg that made junk mail, primarily with a Catholic conservative bent, when my then-girlfriend, Laura (it was a long-distance internet relationship, because I was very stupid) broke up with me.  To be clear… I had just finished four and a half years at Longwood, where I did not want to be, studying drawing and printmaking because they did not teach sequential art, and not minoring in English because my advisor was an idiot.  I came home and had to find a job, which was made more complicated by the fact that after all that school I still did not know what I wanted to do with my life.  In fact I was less certain at this juncture than I had been when I started college.  Still directionless, I took the pre-press job because it was sort of art-adjacent, my degree had “printmaking” in the title, which may have fooled the idiots that ran the company, it paid reasonably well, and had a strong benefits package.

I was depressed every day, going to that awful job in that awful place and making awful crap for money.  It was art-adjacent in the exact way that farting is sort of like composing music.  Laura was my life-preserver.  Idiot that I am, it was her, and not my faith, or my family, that I clung to.  I broke her.  And then she left and I just broke.  There were days, driving to work, that the voice urged me to swerve into oncoming traffic.  Actually it was all of the days.  I hated my life.  I kept going there and collecting the paycheck as long as I could, but finally the awfulness of the job just pushed me over the edge.  One can only throw so many chairs – and no, that isn’t a metaphor, I used to throw chairs up in that place.   Then one day I walked out.  I took five months off, wrote the first draft of “Disciple of Cardonn,” and that was therapy as much as anything.  I got right.  Mom told me it was like I was myself again, like her son was back after being gone for a long time.  I knew what she meant.  I felt it, too.  I got re-hired at Food Lion, where I had worked during my college years, and I’ve been there ever since.  It was only supposed to be five years.  Whoops.

Well, I did have a plan, once.

The third time was just a couple of years ago.  I had worked my way up to being a Produce Manager, and I was proud of the work I was doing.  I was making enough money and had finally lined up a couple of friends to rent a place with, and I got out of my parents’ house at last.  I was proud of that, but remember what I said about my support system, and change?  I began to feel adrift, again.  I also had to adhere to a similar sleep schedule to what I’d had at AKA, and I have learned that this is a factor for me.  My circadian rhythms dictate that I was not meant for being early to bed nor early to rise.  It takes a toll on my physical, mental, and emotional health.  I had the job for some fourteen months.  I started strong but as the job took its toll on me, I was increasingly unable to perform.  Finally the company swapped store managers between the Dahlgren and King George stores, and I found myself working for a man I still maintain is the actual devil.  He ground me down the rest of the way, and then forced me to step down from my position and leave the store I’d been at for over a decade.  I’m happier at my current store, but I lost a lot of money, most of my dignity, and all of my pride.  For the entire first year at my current store, I was basically just taking up space.  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be there.  I was humiliated, I was wounded, and I felt like I’d just been reduced to a child again.

And then I did a dumb thing.  I decided to try to drive to Pennsylvania in a snow storm to pick up a dining room table, and I did not much care if I made it or not.  I did not, in fact, make it.  God, though?  God has a funny way of reaching out, plucking you up and putting you in the palm of his hand.  I misjudged my ability to stop in time on approach to the stoplight at Billingsley Road in White Plains, Maryland, and slid through the intersection after the light had turned red, standing on the brake, knowing something bad was about to happen.  Somehow, miraculously, what happened was not so very bad.  I did total a lady’s car.  She happens to be the most beautiful lady I have ever seen in my life.  She was not hurt.  Nobody was hurt.  We hugged each other, she cried, and I thanked the Lord that I had not injured this beautiful, wonderful person.  It is absurd that I fell for her in that moment, standing in the snow in southern Maryland, snow in her hair, my insides like jelly.  But it is also a kind of miracle.  Although we did not end up together – she did seem to consider it, but I lost out to another guy, alas – she and I are friends.  And, better still, I came to understand something that day, standing in a pool of warmth by the exhaust of a fire truck.  I came to understand that the designs we have for our lives are basically inconsequential, because God’s plan overrides all, and his plans are to benefit us and not ruin us.  I was feeling ugly, when I got in the truck that afternoon.  I felt like dying.  Instead I was reminded of beauty, of the preciousness of life and the wonder of chance.  Of snow in a pretty girl’s hair.  I was reminded that the world is a pretty good place, when you stay in the field under the light of the universe, rather than hiding in the thorns with the wolf.

That was the day, more than two years ago now, when I finally surrendered my will to God.  Now I know that some of you reading this, are not religious.  Some of you will think I’m crazy.  I’m completely okay with that.  But I look at a guy like Chris Cornell, who had more talent than I do, who was good-looking and successful and had three children, and I feel like hell that he’s gone, because I know the wolf got him.  I hate that wolf.

I think about Autumn Snyder, and then I think about Zack and Deborah, talented filmmakers, Zack is a great artist, again, more talent than I can imagine.  I think about what stopped me from seriously considering the window that night at Longwood so many years ago, and then I think about Autumn, and I know why Zack had to quit the movie.  He feels like he failed her.  It isn’t your fault, Zack.  You, and Deborah, it isn’t your fault.  It’s the damn wolf.

That will not be me.  The wolf will not eat me.  I will eat the wolf.  I will eat the wolf raw, with the fur still attached, and I will swallow it whole.  I am a warrior.  I will live.  I will live for the will of God, I will live for the joy of discovery.  For snow in a pretty girl’s hair.  My God, but it’s a beautiful world.