An Uncomfortable Question

In Andy Warhol Was A Hoarder, author Claudia Kalb examines the lives of various historical figures and consults with psychologists and mental health experts to search for an understanding of how those figures were fueled by ailments that medical science did not yet fully understand (and, in some cases, still doesn't). From Warhol's hoarding, to Marilyn Monroe's borderline personality disorder, to Howard Hughes' OCD, Kalb provides compelling cases for what they might be diagnosed with according to the DSM-5. The book probably falls short of perfect analysis, but it's also a lot higher than typical pop psychology, treating its subjects with sensitivity and sympathy.

One of the sections I found most striking was the chapter on architect Frank Lloyd Wright, about whom I knew nothing going in. But reading Kalb's analysis of the man, an examination of narcissistic personality disorder, I found myself drawing comparisons that I had no business drawing, not least because those comparisons immediately seemed too... facile? Too obvious? One of those, probably. Kalb writes: "Impertinent, pioneering, and dramatic, Wright embraced his ego throughout his life, used it to get ahead and promoted it to the world without an ounce of modesty."

A bit further on, discussing Wright's less-than-reliable autobiography, she says: "Rewriting one's past is characteristic of narcissistic people, who become adept at embellishing life stories to enhance their self-image. What matters is that Wright's account is the truth that he fashioned and wished others to believe."

Later, she lays out the checklist for NPD: "a grandiose sense of self-importance; a preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love... ; a need for excessive admiration; a sense of entitlement; exploitative behavior in relationships; a lack of empathy..." To name just a few.

Where could I possibly be going with this?

The comparison between Wright and Donald Trump, a thatch-roofed bologna loaf, is not a perfect one-to-one. Kalb cites Wright's son, John, in noting that "money didn't have value, other than getting [Wright] what he wanted." For Trump, however, money is everything--both the means and the end to anything a person might pursue. Also, Wright could be cold, even cruel, toward his children; John reported that, while working for his father, Wright Senior would deduct from John's salary everything that his son had cost him throughout his life, "including obstetrics." Trump, on the other hand, adores his children. Although that adoration does sometimes express itself in inappropriate and horrifying ways.

And yet. Both Wright and Trump are builders. They both revel in self-promotion. They've even both set up, ahem, schools to spread their wisdom to future generations. At Wright's Taliesin, "apprentices took part in running the day-to-day operations of the 200-acre estate... They hoed the fields, tended the manure pit, cooked meals, did laundry, hauled stones, cut trees, and built their own lodging. There was no formal instruction; instead, apprentices were awarded the opportunity to work alongside Wright in his studio. The annual price tag for this privilege was steep. Initially set at $650--more than Ivy League tuition--it quickly grew to $1,100." At Trump University... well, maybe I should reserve judgment until the lawsuit is finished.

Now, the Goldwater Rule exists for a reason. And I am not a trained psychologist. And I have not spoken with professional mental health experts, as Kalb did. And truth be told, I can only spell "psychiatry" with the help of spellcheck. So for me to try to analyze a man I have never met is not so much 'irresponsible and unethical' as it is 'dumb and pointless.' But as someone who thinks about these subjects far more than is healthy, I can say that I've reached a very uncomfortable conundrum.

In his delightful book, How To Fight Presidents, Dan O'Brien puts forward that "Only a person with an unfathomably huge ego and an off-the-charts level of blind self-confidence and an insatiable hunger for control could look at America, in all of her enormity, with all of her complexity, with all of her beauty and flaws and strength and power, and say, 'Yeah. I should be put in charge of that.'" And in my review of that book, I wrote, "Presidents are insane. We need them to be or we'd have no one else willing to do the job." I bought O'Brien's assertion. I still kinda do. So where does that leave me vis-a-vis Trump, who so energetically embodies that assertion?

Feeling a sudden need to take a very long shower, it seems to me that the best way to analyze Trump by O'Brien's standard would be to call him overqualified for the presidency. I know, I know: gross. But it's a pill that might be worth swallowing. Because that's a diagnosis that I feel comfortable applying. And if we believe that all he really wants is the attention, maybe in this case we should give the baby his bottle.

Suicide Squad

WARNING: SPOILERS FOLLOW

Somewhere there's an alternate universe where alternate me didn't previously know about Suicide Squad's last minute re-shoots. Or that, for a time, there were two competing cuts of the film that stemmed from WB's anxiety over the critical response to BvS. One cut was of director David Ayer's grimmer original vision, the other was a lighter and more colorful ode to the well-received (and outstanding) trailers from earlier this year. But once I knew about them, it was hard not to see it. A victim of the struggle between the grimdark that WB had initially embraced for the DCCU and the lighter fun that moviegoers turned out to actually want, Suicide Squad is a confused and conflicted offering whose back-and-forth tonal disparities hurt an otherwise engaging flick.

The final cut is a mix of the two that were screened for test audiences, plus bits from the re-shoots, and that shows in choices that might not have been so odd if not for their placement together. In one moment, Enchantress is darkly conjuring her doomsday weapon while ominous music swells, in another she's shimmying her shoulders while monologuing for Amanda Waller. Meanwhile, El Diablo, a metahuman with pyrokinesis, states at various points that his powers came "from the Devil," but it's still jarring when he turns into an enormous literal fire demon in the climax. And a few members of the Squad get two different introductions, one loving and indulgent with lots of neon highlights, the other grimmer and stingier on time.

I don't know which cut deserves credit for the soundtrack. We should probably just thank Guardians of the Galaxy.

Despite the tonal problems, Squad soars with some excellent character work. Ayer and the actors push through limited screen time to outline some decent motivations and the film allows just enough space to showcase some strong personalities (it's almost like they're out of a comic book). Please excuse the bullet points.

• Margot Robbie's Harley Quinn was a worry for me going in because Harley is one of my favorite characters in comics and I recommend Amanda Conner's run on her book to anyone who will listen, but Robbie brings all of Harley's charm to the screen without making us sick of her. Actually, Squad could've used more of her. I had also worried, based on the marketing (and Hollywood's preoccupations) that Harley's ass would be at least as prominent a character as the rest of her. Her ass is certainly present, but not as much as I had anticipated. Still, it could take a backseat (I see what I did there) in her solo movie... or her team-up movie with Poison Ivy.
• I have personal problems with Jared Leto. I might explain those problems in writing one day. Until then, I will remember that he had the fearlessness to follow Ledger. And that the Joker's aesthetic probably wasn't entirely up to him (I don't see Joker sitting still long enough to get tattoos, do you?). And though he seemed to try too hard to put his own spin on the character, somewhere around the Ace Chemicals flashback, he had me buying in. The Joker-Harley relationship is horrifying and tragic. The romanticization of it is creepy and a bad-read and diminishes Harley. The spirit of that weirdly engrossing relationship is here, poking up through the rushed backstory. It's a highlight of the film. But then I recall Leto's moronic pranks during filming and I'm back to rolling my eyes. People will like you more if you stop trying so hard, Jared Leto. 
• Will Smith is impressive as Deadshot. 
• I didn't know much about Jay Hernandez or El Diablo going in, but his emotional trauma provided a nice touchstone, while also grounding a character that would've been crazy overpowered for this team. 
• Joel Kinnaman had a tough act following Tom Hardy's departure, but he holds up well in a role that could've been little more than hard-ass military dude trying to boss around a bunch of comic book villains. However, I wonder if either cut of the film had June Moone stay dead following Rick Flag's killing of Enchantress, adding meaning to that sacrifice. Still, I'll look on the bright side: Moone wasn't fridged. 
• Finally, holy shit Viola Davis. A movie that's not trying would depict Amanda Waller as a stoic government agent with access to a lot of important secrets. But Waller requires presence. She requires unspoken authority. She requires awe-inspiring dread and a Machiavellian will to play anyone and everyone like a fiddle until she doesn't need them to play anymore. Batman should be a little afraid of Waller. So I shouldn't need to tell you how gratifying it is to see that Davis nails the Wall. I know that Bruce Wayne/Batman is supposed to be the connective tissue for the DCCU, but that role could just as easily fall to Waller. And I kind of want it to.

Not all characters get the lingering lamp shade treatment. It's a very large cast. And I'd like to spend more time with each of them. The ones who are still alive, anyway.

I liked this movie. But I wanted to really, really, really like this movie. And that, I believe, is the DCCU's primary hurdle right now. The bulk of the audience for these movies was given grandiose adventures by the DCAU of the 90's and early 00's. Add in what Marvel's done with their properties in recent years and it's easy to see how an underwhelming movie becomes OMG TEH WORST MOVIE EVAR!!!1!!

If this sounds a lot like my thoughts following BvS, it's because I feel the same now as I did then: this is going to be a process and I'm willing to stomach some growing pains if the larger universe can grow in the right direction. There are some great elements here. In addition to Batman and Wonder Woman, we now have Harley, Waller, Deadshot, and the Flash. Meanwhile, Squad largely ditches BvS's cynicism. And while the tonal problems keep the movie from achieving more, the fact that WB is shifting its direction so openly, if also awkwardly, is a good sign.

Grade: B-