It's me, Pete... from the podcast.

Whiplash • 2014

I’ve seen Whiplash more than a dozen times. Each viewing feels like a necessary bruising. It’s a film that lives in the extremes, a dark and airless practice room where the only oxygen is ambition and the tutelage courtesy of J.K. Simmons’ Fletcher.

Let’s say he’s a monster—a tyrant who hurls chairs and insults in equal measure. And sure, Teller’s Andrew bleeds for his art in his effort to exceed Fletcher’s brutal expectations. We see the welts on his hands, the desperation in his eyes. Is it too much? That’s the point.

This isn’t a film about the gentle hand of mentorship. It’s about the fire in the belly, the primal scream of wanting to be great. It forces us to ask: what are we willing to endure to reach the pinnacle of our potential?

Now, I’ve never had a chair thrown at me (though a certain French teacher and his vigorous desk-shaking come to mind – a man who, ironically, became a beloved mentor). But Whiplash resonates because it speaks to that deep, human desire for approval, for recognition, for mastery.

And the music. Yikes, the music. That final performance is more than just a crescendo; it’s a rebellion, a reckoning, a triumphant middle finger to the limitations placed upon us. It’s exhilarating, terrifying, satisfying … all the “ings,” as someone probably says.

My wife, bless her soul, jokes that Whiplash turned her into a bad parent, afraid to say “good job” lest she unleash some inner Fletcher on our children. But that’s the brilliance of the film—it sparks these conversations, these uncomfortable reflections on ambition, mentorship, and the price of excellence.

Whiplash is not a comfortable film. It’s a film that stays with you, that leaves you breathless, and questioning, and striving.

I notched this again because we had the chance to talk about it with the delightful Emmy Award-winning hair and makeup designer Frances Hounsom on this week’s episode of Movies We Like. You should check it out and subscribe. It’s an illuminating conversation on a show I just adore. Hope you enjoy!

Get Duked • 2019

“Get Duked!” shouts the film, and get duked we do, right into a gloriously silly, often hilarious romp through the Scottish Highlands. Imagine, if you will, a gaggle of misfit teens – the kind who make you nostalgic for your own awkward adolescence – thrust into a bizarre wilderness survival challenge. Now, add a dash of Edgar Wright-esque humor (think B+ grade, perfectly serviceable), a pinch of social commentary, and a modest helping of Jonathan Aris being brilliantly Jonathan Aris, and you’ve got yourself the first act of this wild ride.

The film is at its best when it revels in the absurdity of its premise. The landscape, vast and hauntingly beautiful, becomes a character itself, a playground for both the hapless teens and the film’s more sinister elements. The central quartet of lads are a study in contrasts, their fumbling attempts at survival a constant source of amusement, especially when juxtaposed against Ian, the hilariously earnest “good” boy. And oh, the police incompetence—a trope, sure, but one deployed here with such gusto that it’s hard not to crack a smile. Kate Dickie, bless her, is in her element, chewing the scenery with the relish of a Highland cow on fresh grass.

But the real highlight, the moment the film truly sings, is the “Get Duked” musical number. Picture this: our lads, high as kites on, shall we say, “enhanced” rabbit droppings, busting out into a full-blown rave anthem, complete with psychedelic visuals and a thumping beat courtesy of the enigmatic DJ Beatroot. It’s bonkers, it’s brilliant, it’s pure joy.

Sadly, like a hiker losing a foot on a steep descent, “Get Duked!” stumbles in its final act. The filmmakers abandon the playful metaphor and opt for clunky exposition and ideological monologues. The performances remain strong, but the magic dissipates, leaving us with a slightly sour aftertaste.

That said, there’s a final, deliciously British twist in the tail, a last-minute gag that had me laughing out loud. It’s a reminder that at its heart, “Get Duked!” is a comedy, and when it remembers that, it soars.

★★★★☆🧡

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Angst • 1981

We recorded an episode of Movies We Like yesterday with cinematographer Andrew Wonder and just as we wrapped up, he dropped this recommendation on us as one of those films that burrows under your skin and festers. He wasn’t wrong. It’s the kind of film that leaves you feeling grubby, like you need a shower and a strong drink, preferably while sitting in a brightly lit room. And yet, I can’t help but admire its audacity, its sheer, unflinching commitment to making you feel terrible. In the space of home invasion horror, this is at the very top of the raw discomfort-per-minute ratio in terms of raw despair.

Apparently, based on the crimes of Austrian murderer Werner Kniesek, the film follows an unnamed psychopath (played with chilling intensity by Erwin Leder) in the hours following his release from prison. His goal is to kill again. The film wastes no time in establishing his pathology, thrusting us into his disturbing worldview from the opening frame.

What sets Angst apart, truly sets it apart, is Zbigniew Rybczyński’s groundbreaking cinematography. Forget static shots and conventional framing; the camera here is a living, breathing entity, constantly moving, observing, almost predatory in its gaze. We are placed firmly within the killer’s perspective, forced to inhabit his distorted reality. It’s a claustrophobic, nauseating experience, and yet utterly mesmerizing. When critics call the camera a character in the film, they’re thinking of Angst.

This isn’t mere stylistic flourish. The camera work, coupled with the deeply unsettling score and the film’s chaotic direction, creates a terrifying and physically stressful experience.

This is a film that revels in its darkness, using violence not for titillation but to illustrate the banality of evil. The killer’s narration, a stream of consciousness that provides glimpses into his past traumas and attempts to rationalize his actions, only adds to the film’s unsettling power. We confront disorienting violence on screen paired with the calm reflection of our protagonist’s narration. We are forced to confront his lack of humanity while mirroring his own mental state.

Angst is not for the faint of heart. It is a film that will stay with you long after the credits roll, a film that dares to ask uncomfortable questions about the nature of evil and our own capacity for darkness.

And yet, for all its darkness, for all its unflinching brutality, there’s a strange, darkly comedic undercurrent to the film because for all his talk, for all his grandstanding, the killer’s journey in Angst ends in a clumsy bust with a brat in one hand, and bodies in the trunk. In that way, the film tells the story of a man who, in spite of his desire for greatness, demonstrates precious little talent in the task.

★★★★☆🧡

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Beetlejuice Beetlejuice • 2024

There’s a particular brand of chaotic energy that defines Tim Burton’s work, a blend of the macabre and the whimsical. It’s a tightrope walk, and unfortunately, “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice” stumbles more than it soars.

While the film boasts Burton’s signature visual flair, a feast of gothic whimsy and grotesque charm, the narrative feels as cobbled together as a sing-along with Miss Argentina.

Michael Keaton, typically a captivating screen presence, feels strangely misused as the titular bio-exorcist. Beetlejuice occupies a bizarre purgatory between antagonist and eager ally, leaving Keaton struggling to find a consistent rhythm for the character. His trademark manic energy is there, but it feels more forced than inspired, lacking the menace or the pathos to truly resonate—as he did in the original film.

Winona Ryder, saddled with the thankless task of portraying the archetypal ‘gloomy teen’ as an adult, delivers a disappointingly flat performance. Lydia Deetz, draped in black lace and existential angst, could have been a fascinating exploration of what was once adolescent alienation all-grown-up. But Ryder never quite inhabits the role, leaving sequel Lydia a pale shadow in a world begging for vibrant darkness.

It’s Catherine O’Hara who steals every scene she’s in, a comedic supernova as Delia Deetz. She’s less oblivious now and more in touch with the world, and O’hara brings impeccable timing and a gift for physical comedy, wringing laughs from the mundane, a delightful reminder of her singular talent.

Back to missed opportunities. Jenna Ortega’s Astrid. While Ortega brings a simmering intensity to the role, she’s given precious little to do. Her storyline feels frustratingly underdeveloped, a mere echo of Ryder’s Lydia, hinting at a depth the film never explores. As arguably the biggest star in the movie representing her generation, she’s bafflingly underused.

And what, pray tell, is Willem Dafoe doing in all of this? His character, while visually striking, feels utterly superfluous, a bizarre footnote in a narrative already littered with them. The film ends with a shrug, leaving a trail of unanswered questions and unresolved conflicts in its wake.

“Beetlejuice Beetlejuice” is not without its charms. O’Hara’s comedic brilliance, the film’s visual panache, and Danny Elfman’s evocative score all deserve recognition. However, these fleeting delights can’t quite compensate for the film’s narrative shortcomings and missed opportunities. Like a ghost flitting through walls, it leaves you with a sense of what might have been, a spectral echo of a far more compelling story.

★★☆☆☆

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Killer Klowns from Outer Space • 1988

This film, dear reader, is a glorious, gaudy carnival of the absurd. It’s a B-movie masterpiece, a technicolor nightmare dripping with cotton candy and existential dread. Imagine, if you will, a world where the threat of Cold War paranoia manifests as clowns – not just any clowns, mind you, but extraterrestrial jesters with a penchant for transforming humans into grotesque cotton candy juice bags.

The Chiodo brothers serve up a delicious cocktail of horror and comedy, expertly balancing some chills with absurdity. The practical effects are a triumph, a testament to the power of ingenuity—those clown faces? Pure nightmare.

But beneath the schlock and silliness lies a surprisingly sharp commentary on small-town America. The authority figures are hilariously inept, leaving it to a trio of savvy (and slightly too old for high school) teenagers to save the day. It’s a classic trope, yes, but one that feels particularly resonant in this context.

Is it perfect? God, no. The plot is as hole-ridden as a clown car after a pie fight. I don’t know what that means but it sounds horrible. Still, that’s part of the charm, isn’t it? This is a film that revels in its own ridiculousness, inviting us to embrace the chaos and laugh in the face of fear.

So, go ahead. Take a slurp from this cinematic cotton candy. You might just find yourself delightfully terrified.

★★★★☆🧡

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The Importance of Being Lazy

There was a time, years ago, when I had it all figured out. I organized my work days around a simple principle: four hours of intense, focused work on client projects. From 10 am to 2 pm every day, I was in the zone — cranking out high-quality work for the people who were paying me. No distractions, no excuses.

Then, from 2 pm onwards, I shifted gears. I caught up on my reading, wrote my own pieces, and gave myself the space to think deeply about the big questions in my field. It was a beautiful system: four hours of productivity, followed by four hours of learning and growth.

But then I started working with other people, and everything changed. Collaboration is great, but it doesn’t always play nicely with rigid schedules and deep work. My four-hour sprint became a thing of the past.

However, every so often, I come across articles and stories that remind me of the power of focused work. They make a compelling case that maybe, just maybe, there’s something to be said for limiting the amount of time we spend grinding away on other people’s projects. Not only can it boost our productivity, but it might just make us happier and healthier too.

It’s food for thought. And who knows? Maybe one of these days, I’ll give the four-hour workday another shot. It worked wonders for me before — perhaps it could again. In a world that’s constantly demanding more of our time and attention, there’s something deeply appealing about the idea of reclaiming some of that time for ourselves.

Apple TV+ to Adapt William Gibson’s ‘Neuromancer’ into a Streaming Series

From The Verge.

Apple TV+ is set to adapt William Gibson’s iconic cyberpunk novel, Neuromancer, into a streaming series. Published in 1984, Neuromancer explores a future filled with AI, virtual reality, and cybernetic enhancements, following a hacker named Case on a journey through corporate espionage and digital landscapes.

This news is particularly exciting for me. I adored this book as a kid, and it may be one of the only books I read more than once until I was 25. It’s also the only book I ever left on a plane, repurchased, and left on a plane again. As one of the only fans of Johnny Mnemonic, the film adaptation, it’s likely my bar for success is lower than most. But Apple is killing it with Sci-Fi, so chances are good I won’t have to be the lone champion of this one.

“Apple announces changes to iOS, Safari, and the App Store in the European Union”

In what can generously be described as a reserved press release today, Apple laid out forthcoming changes to comply with new EU regulations, allowing developers more flexibility in payment processing and app distribution on iOS while implementing safeguards to mitigate security risks. Though Apple maintains its priority is protecting user experience, the legally required adjustments mark a notable shift for the company long known for its closed ecosystems, tightly controlled App Store, and emphasis on privacy. While framed as an obligatory concession, the move opens Apple to new competitive forces within the massive EU market.

Apple’s release is chockablock with things like this:

Across every change, Apple is introducing new safeguards that reduce — but don’t eliminate — new risks the DMA poses to EU users. With these steps, Apple will continue to deliver the best, most secure experience possible for EU users.

Apple is full of incredibly bright people on the verge of releasing a mind-blowing new technology in the Vision Pro that purports to be the foundation for the next generation of computing. They can do that, but they can’t authentically say that they’ve solved the security challenges on iOS that have been resolved on macOS for years? I don’t buy it, and I don’t think anyone else does either. It shines a klieg light on the division between vested interests inside the organization and externally across the development landscape beyond it.

Again, generously, maybe navigating the changes required to align the global footprint to align with the DMA takes time. If that’s the case, communication here is clumsy at best. Critically, Apple is at its best when it marches ahead of the adaptation curve, not dragged along behind it. And it stinks to be on the sideline watching the company consistently come across as manipulative, spiteful, and greedy in this area.

The Mac at 40

There has been much ink spilled from old-school Mac users and their experiences with their first Macs on this, the official birthday of the Macintosh. I was not an old-school Mac user. I was a switcher.

When the first Macintosh dropped, I was using an already-yellowing Apple II in my bedroom, swapping floppies to play through The Bard’s Tale. I remember meeting the Mac for the first time, though. Dad took me to his boss’s house, Jim Lucas, who had bought the first one for his home office. I drew on it with a mouse in MacPaint. I was 12 and gobsmacked.

When we upgraded from the Apple II, Dad picked an IBM P/S2. It wasn’t boring, but it didn’t live up to the pre-Mac Apple in my book. It also introduced the first format battles in our home, as all the computers at school were Apple.

That was it. From then on, I was mostly a PC kid. Through high school and college, I ended up building my own machines, a process I adored and learned a lot. I spent a little time with Dell, then a dalliance with Sony Vaio laptops. I didn’t think much about Macs through those years.

Then I got married, and memories became more important. I picked up what Apple was doing with music, photos, and videos. I would spend my lunch hour at work wandering from Mac to Mac at our local Beaverton Mac Store, typing on them, clicking around. I tortured those guys for a year before I pulled the trigger on my first Mac, the white polycarbonate iBook.

I thought it looked cool. Come to find out, the purists weren’t so keen on it. But it was my entry into the Apple ecosystem. I came to it late. With the exception of a few late-night computer lab sessions in high school, I never really lived with anything before OS X. In fact, that iBook shipped with Cheetah on it, macOS 10.0, when I booted it for the first time. I am a macOS X native.

But there is no doubt that my experience with that first Mac changed my life. There was nothing on Windows that allowed me to work as fluidly in my native language of audio, video, and image as I could on the Mac. There was nothing that allowed me to return to my roots as a broadcaster and launch a podcast business just five years later like I could on the Mac. Most importantly, there was nothing that approached the level of joy on Windows like the joy I had on the Mac, from the tactile experience of using it to the cognitive experience of living with it.

I thought I might try to recover the list of Macs I have owned. Owing to my impulsivity, this might be tricky.

iBook, 2001. Fantastic My First Mac.

iPod Gen 1. Okay, not a Mac. When I did the Switcher campaign, they comped us all one of these.

PowerBook G4 12.1”, 2004. Still a favorite in the line-up. That era of PowerBook keyboards just dominated.

Power Macintosh G5, late 2005. This was a complete coup. I managed to get my Windows-only organization to sign off on a custom G5 just for me since I was doing “new media.” When I left, they didn’t know what to do with it and let me walk away with it, plus two 24” displays. Crazy.

In 2009, things got muddy. I pretty much swapped out a 15” MacBook Pro every two years for a while. At some point, I downsized from the giant G5 to a MacMini in my office closet and a MacBook Air for the road. Production slowed way down for a spell, but I enjoyed the computers.

In 2019, I thought I might be able to do a bunch of work on an iPad Pro. Why do I keep hitting myself in the head with this particular hammer?

OK, 2020. Things get clearer. Over the course of three or four months, I secured an M1 MacBook Air and then an M1 MacMini. Production picked up. A lot. That was a reinvigoration of computing, the likes of which I had not experienced since I got the first iBook nearly twenty years prior. I didn’t stick with those two for long, though, because when the M1 MacBook Pros came out, I sold them both, went back to the single-computer lifestyle, and started driving the M1 MBP Max. It was transformational.

Until I got the M3 MacBook Pro Max, which brings us to the now.

Today’s Apple is as complex an organism as it has ever been. I don’t love the choices they’ve made around developer relations and payments. They look greedy and capricious. My emotional side, unmetered and frustrated, wants to stand up and shout, “That’s not myApple.” But that’s neither fair nor true. It’s also vastly more complicated than this post is meant to be.

This post is about my experience with the Mac and my love of the devices these last 23 years. For that, I don’t need headlines and talk of stock prices and valuations. I don’t need to talk about corporate greed or unfair competition. All I need to do is rub my fingers over the keys of this laptop and enjoy the experience of grazing across 40 years of innovation, evolution, care, and attention that has helped me chart a new path for my career and my family so joyously.

So, thanks, Mac. And, in honor of those of us who fancy ourselves just as crazy as the originals but a few years late, here’s my contribution, an ode to the first Crazy Ones contributed by Rob Siltanen, Lee Clow, and others. We got here, eventually.

Here’s to the late bloomers. The converts. The Switchers. The round pegs who eventually found their round holes. The better late than neverers. The ones who thought the same before they could think different. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify, or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is count on them to be on time. Because they changed things for themselves, just later, they pushed their own lives forward alone for too long. And while some may see them as behind the curve, we see the courage. Because the people who are brave enough to admit they were wrong at first and change course to do what’s right in due time are the ones who inspire us the most.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

It’s been a long time, and I’m not sure what I’m doing. But I think it’s time to clean the place up and get back to blogging.

I started this blog in 2001 in an effort to write about my life on becoming a father. I wrote some posts, but that effort was pretty quickly usurped by the act of actually becoming a father. After that, the writing changed.

The site evolved into — then back out of — a link blog. The posts migrated into and out of other sites I built and other domains over the years. Eventually, everything went dormant, and the site went completely offline, starting right around 2018.

All the time, the posts were still there, resting quietly in a long-ago unpaid Squarespace account. Did you know they keep those things around forever? I guess? I paid for a month of service to migrate the posts again and bring them into yet another word reservoir.

There are … I dunno … hundreds of old posts here. I’ve been sorting through them and fixing broken links — SO MANY broken links. The writing was lousy, and the opinions were often lousier. I was a kid when I started this thing, and I like to think I’ve relaxed a bit in the intervening twenty-three years. Maybe the opinions aren’t quite as strongly held as they were then, either. I find the world a funnier place than I did back then, a more wondrous place, even as it is more confusing than ever.

In 2006, I picked up a microphone and became a podcaster. We have a website for the network TruStory.FM, and every episode of every show has an associated post there. But there’s a sausage churn that goes into preparing for the shows I host, and I often find I’m missing a vessel for the thoughts, the research, and the resources that go into the process of making the shows we make. I had a Twitter account since the place opened and often posted links there. I deleted that. For a while, I used Facebook and Instagram. I’m not very good at those. I have Mastodon and Threads, but they’re very new and my account is not well-trafficked. I did start posting over there, but then I read this piece from blogger and fellow Prince fan, Anil Dash, and hit home. He opens the piece talking about all the wonders of the messy internet, then:

The era I’m talking about is 2000. But it could just as easily be 2024, because this new year offers many echoes of a moment we haven’t seen in a quarter-century. Some of the most dominant companies on the internet are at risk of losing their relevance, and the rest of us are rethinking our daily habits in ways that will shift the digital landscape as we know it.

In the early-2000s, I got on the social media train. I was incredibly bullish about the wonders of the social internet. They’ve had years of taking my content and churning it up and in all that time, I find it increasingly hard to find it again. My own work. It’s just gone. I need a new place, a place that’s mine, and I’m pretty sure It’s Me Pete is going to be that bucket going forward.

I’ve been working hard to get all the posts cleaned up, but it’s going to take a while. Going forward, here’s a bit of what you can probably expect.

I’m writing now. The manuscript is due to the publisher next month, so as I write this, it’s really an excuse to clear my head for a spell before I get back into editing. Once that’s done, you can bet I’ll be writing about writing quite a little bit. I wrote another book last year for National Novel Writing Month that I’m actually thrilled about, and I’m eager to get back into editing mode over there in a few weeks.

On the podcasts, I talk about movies, anxiety, ADHD, emotions, and pop culture. I’ll try not to post much about politics. I’m not a political blogger, and I find when I try to write about the state of political discourse, I just get mad. That’s not great for my blood pressure, and frankly, there are vastly more interesting and involved citizens out there doing the work. When you come to me, you come for nerd stuff. I’m a pretty diehard macOS guy, too. Probably some stuff about Apple products will ooze into the new blog.

I think I’m supposed to thank you for making it this far. So, you know, thanks for making it this far! You’re the best!

Vox interview Tristan Harris — “Phones are designed to be addicting.”

No, it’s not a surprise. But Harris (former Google design ethicist) outlines the three big things you can do to reduce your device’s hold on your life.

  1. Turn off all non-human notifications
  2. Change your screen to grayscale (this is my favorite — never even occurred to me, but it’s brilliant)
  3. Restrict your home screen to everyday tools

That last point is part of a housecleaning I do every few months and I recommend it. Take a few minutes to manually move all your apps to your second screen leaving only one app that you’re sure you use every day. From there, each time you open your phone to perform a task, consider whether your frequency of performing that task requires the app to be first-screen accessible. Over a few days, you’ll have all the apps you really use back on the home screen and likely have cleared a bunch of cruft in the process.

(more…)

“The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters”

A lovely and dark meditation on Goya from Nerdwriter. It is appropriate timing to remind us of the cycles through which we travel culturally, politically, and intellectually.

Thomas Flight on Blade Runner 2049 Side-by-Side the Original

Blade Runner 2049 is my favorite film of last year. It’s aged well, and for lovers of the original, it’s practically a love story. This post from Thomas Flight is a celebration of the motifs Villeneuve and Roger Deakins applied to bring us a new story that feels so deeply rooted in the universe of Blade Runner.

We did a breakdown on the film when it opened on The Next Reel Film Board last year.

The true value of student debt to the US Economy? Canceling it.

Terrific summary from Brian Alexander on this study from a Bard College research team:

What would happen if the United States decided to cancel all student debt?

A Bard College economics research team (Scott Fullwiler, Stephanie Kelton, Catherine Ruetschlin, and Marshall Steinbaum) decided to explore what such a bold near-term future could look like in “The  Macroeconomic Effects of Student Debt Cancellation” (pdf).

The tl;dr result?  It’s a good idea for the country, for debtholders and non- alike.  “Student debt cancellation results in positive macroeconomic feedback effects as average households’ net worth and disposable income increase, driving new consumption and investment spending.”  They find other, noneconomic benefits as well.

But what is “that?”

Just showed the kids Anything for Love. They were most confused by that.  Funny the things I’ve never asked.