#And quit saying shit like 'unalived' or 'r-worded'. Don't adopt the language of those whose livelihood depends on self-censoring

[archeolatry]

Recently I've been trying to remind myself to take in more "slow media" (akin to the "slow food" movement)- less content, more longform art. I've dusted off a very old list of films that I haven't seen but should, gleaned from the AFI Top 100. Some of it is patience-testing, from musicals (My Fair Lady) to epics (Lawrence of Arabia). Most of it is stuff that didn't necessarily appeal to me initially but is one of those Movies One Should Watch: From Here to Eternity or The Wild Bunch. And some of them are shameful, glaring gaps from the days before you could instantly stream gigabytes of data per second through a screen and into your faceholes. A film of the latter variety is The Third Man.

I watched it last night to keep from doomscrolling and doom-refreshing. (A strange and fascinating choice, in retrospect.) I had heard the above speech before, but in the context of the film it hits even harder. It's not exactly true —Germany invented the cuckoo clock, for one thing�� but this speech, as well as others most of Orson Welles' film-defining dialogue, shows you just what kind of man Harry Lime is.

Like the protagonist, we're swayed by Harry's charisma even as we are repulsed by his words. By vastly oversimplifying a paradigm-shifting period in human history and adding a little rosy hindsight, what Harry's saying almost makes sense in a 'big picture' kind of way. But when you find out how Harry made his money and the human toll it took, the picture becomes much, much smaller. It's a great promise to think that hard times may make you into another DaVinci, but it is perhaps more likely that you'll simply be poor and die of the plague.

Relatable, right?

I guess what I'm saying is this: Watch a classic film. Really watch it. Even if that actor or director is "problematic". Put your phone away, even if you feel the urge to look up something that you think will clarify an aspect of what you're watching. Be discomforted. Ask what the film is trying to say. Read or watch The Celluloid Closet. Try to see what's between the lines. Buy physical copies of media you treasure. Put it in your memory where it can't be deleted from collective consciousness. So many classic films —Spartacus and High Noon, just to name a few— were allegories necessitated because of The Hays Code. And whatever censorship Project 2025 has coming down the pike means the great possibility that something like the Hays Code may exist again. Media literacy is going to be more important than ever. You will be forced to learn the differences between queerbaiting and queer coding, because coding might be the most queerness you get. Sometimes ancient Rome is just ancient Rome, and sometimes it's Hollywood under a combination of self-preserving, self-enforced guidelines and government witch hunting overseen by a petty tyrant.

We've seen this shit before.