I've loved the work of Aaron Sorkin since The West Wing. Yes, his sensibilities and politics are very similar to my own, but he also gets to tell some important stories. This is another one of those, which he has both written and directed.
We were all around a few years ago when a whistleblower shouted long and hard about the abuses and lack of civil responsibility at Facebook. The Social Reckoning looks at this part of history, to great effect. Sorkin also wrote the screenplay for The Social Network, which looked at the formation and fallout of the formation of Facebook. In both of these films, Mark Zuckerberg doesn't walk away looking like a great human being.
The Social Reckoning follows Frances Haugen (Mikey Madison), a young Facebook engineer, who enlisted the help of Jeff Horwitz (Jeremy Allen White), a Wall Street Journal reporter, to blow the whistle on the social network's most guarded secrets. We also see what Zuckerberg (Jeremy Strong) and his team do with him to "make him seem more likeable." If you followed the news at the time, Haugen testified in front of Congress about Facebook's nearly inhuman way of taking profits over people. And Jeff Horwitz received a Pulitzer Prize for his reporting.
This is a wordy movie - but this is how Aaron Sorkin runs. Thankfully, the lead players put in excellent performances. Jeremy Strong as Mark Zuckerberg is particularly effective. (They asked Jesse Eisenberg to come back and play Zuckerberg but he turned the role down, wanting nothing to do with the man himself - and fair enough.) The well-crafted script would have helped these performances - mind you, Jeremy Allen White plaus a great underdog, just as Jeremy Strong is brilliant playing morally bankrupt characters. Mikey Madison, known best for her Oscar winning role in Anora is also great as the conflicted Frances.
You'll come out of this movie thinking hard about social media and its horrors. The Social Reckoning provides a number of insider perspectives. It's a film that will play well on the streaming services in the near future.
I came to the ticket for Koreaboo in an unusual way. Having booked two tickets to another show by accident, I had some sucking up to do with a friend who works in the box office, begging nicely to change the ticket to another show. Thankfully, my friend was able to assist me, and I was found a ticket to this. I'm so glad I got to see this.
The other thing that came to mind was my late niece, Lauren, who as a fan of all things Korean. She would have loved this. The music. The sensibilities. The culture shock. The culture.
Me, I loved the story.
Michelle Lim Davidson is an Australian actor who was born in Korea and adopted by Australian parents. This play is based around her experiences of meeting her birth mother in Korea and a subsequent trip back to spend some time with her. This play is taking from her experiences of being a Koreaboo - somebody who is only interested in K-Pop, Kimchi and bulgogi.
In Koreaboo, Lim Davidson plays Hannah, woman who's returned to Korea to spend time with her motherm, Umma (Heather Jeong), who works almost without a break at the family's corner store in the back blocks of Seoul. With not only a language barrier, the two women try to find a way forward, finally bonding over K-Pop, which takes the play in yet another direction.
Mostly set in the family's shop, looking like every stereotypical Asian corner store, Lim Davidson's wisdom and comic timing shone through here. The foibles of both sides were looked on lovingly, while also having a good dig and the K-Pop phenomenon. Jessica Arthurn's direction made sure that there were no lags in the show, while keeping a slightly tongue in cheek. By the end of the play, you've got a good understanding of where both women are coming from, with a good understanding of how things came to pass.
I'm so glad I got to see this. It's a bit of a sleeper hit, but its loving look at the Korean diaspora is remarkable. I'm just sorry my niece couldn't have seen this.
It's time to get the questions out of the way. I've had a good day. I managed to finish the cleaning project at the temple, which has taken me five days (spending two hours a day there, because if I did it in one shot I would have gone mad.) I saw a not so good play last night, a good one today and the washing dried on the line. Oh, and after five days, they've fixed the hot water. Life is good.
Now I just need to get myself a job (Hopefully the interview I've got on Monday goes well.)
Anyway, here are this week's questions, brought by Sunday Stealing.
1. What was the last gift you received?
It was my birthday a few weeks ago. I received a voucher for a local bookshop and a voucher for a local cinema chain. I think that's all I received this year. This is fine, I want for nothing.
2. Who did you last hang out with?
I went for dinner and the see a play with Jay last night. Jay is also my gym buddy, so I see a bit of her.
3. Do you often lose the remote?
Yes, but it's normally found under my knitting or on my messy desk.
4. When did you last check Facebook?
About five minutes ago. Checking on a friend who's in a body building competition.
5. Are there scented candles in the room you're in?
Yes. Quite a few with different scents. I'm burning my green one at the moment. Burning green candles is a witch trick for bringing in abundance.
6. Next time you leave the house, where will you be going?
That will either be early tomorrow morning to go to the gym, or a little bit later to go and meet Blarney at the cinema where we're going to see The Social Reckoning. It all depends if I can get myself out of bed in the morning.
7. Do you know anyone named Steven or Stephen or Steve or Stevie?
Ah yes, I do. Steven is the child of an English friend of mine, who was named after the Australian Cricketer, Steve Waugh. I know a couple of Stephens - one is one of a partnership, Richard and Stephen. I had a Stephen who was my boss in a recent contract. I also know a couple of Steves - I'm not sure of their spelling, but I'm sure one is a Greek Stephanos - the other, I'm not sure. Oh, and there is Steve the builder at the site across the road. Most Stevens/Stephens/Steves are middle aged engineers.
I don't know any Stevies.
8. Which do you prefer: macaroni salad or potato salad?
Look, I like both. A good home-made potato salad is gold - but am very fold of the pasta salad that you get at the supermarkets over here. It's glorious and addictive.
9. Do you have an ice maker in your refrigerator door?
No. Too expensive, needs to be plumbed in - and I rent. My fridge is far more utilitarian.
10. When you woke up this morning, did you get up straightaway or lounge a bit?
I'm a ditherer in the morning, especially now as I'm 'between jobs'. But I was up and about around 9 this morning after some doom scrolling.
I've had a full subscription with the MTC for many years. Every year, of the ten plays, there will be a couple which you adore. They stay with you. They're fantastic. Then there will be four or five which you enjoy - not to the same extent as the great ones, but they're still good. Then there's one or two you will have to dig deep to find things you like. And one will have you wanting to leave at the interval.
Eliza is the play I wish had an interval. It's an hour and a half that I'm never going to get back.
This just didn't do it for me. I get what they're trying to do, but nah. Sorry, didn't work for me. A play about AI. Yeah, it's a bit fraught to begin with. They say it's a psychological thriller. Me, I was bored. It was a talkfest with characters you couldn't get into. It's called Eliza from the references to Pygmalion and the morphing of Eliza Doolittle from a flower-seller to a lady. In this case, Eliza is a computer program changing into generative A.I.
The MTC describe this as follows:
"Dr Joseph Weizenbaum (Dan Spielman), a brilliant professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, carries the trauma of a childhood fleeing Nazi Germany. When he begins testing a new computer program designed to simulate talk therapy – using details of the private life of his secretary Becky (Manali Datar) – the lines between code and connection begin to blur.
The project is lauded by his research assistant (Hamish Michael) and his colleagues, but as wider interest in his breakthrough intensifies, Weizenbaum begins to question the true cost of his innovation.
As society grapples with the ethics of rapidly advancing and increasingly invasive technologies, director Paige Rattray (Black is the New White) delivers an urgent and unnerving depiction of the birth of AI."
Although there were others in the audience who gave this a standing ovation, I was glad to get out of the auditorium. For me, the story fell flat. Sure, it's early in the season, but I was bored. Working in I.T. I could see what they were trying to do, but it fell flat. The three actors gave this there best, but for me, it didn't hit. There were too many Orwell references, ad infinitum. It was circular. Sure, we know now the joys of generative AI, and this was the start of it, but this was trying to do too much with too little.
I did like the set. I did like that the stagehands came out for applause at the end of the night. I like the murmuration light show about three-quarters the way through (which went on a bit too long) but yeah, this one was not for me.
Some obviously liked this a lot more than Jay and I did (Jay slept for most of the first act). I was struggling to stay engaged.
Just because it didn't hit for me doesn't mean others won't like it. However, I can't recommend this. There are better things on and around Melbourne at the moment.
I'm wising up to the insidious nature of online subscriptions.
Buy something. Get signed up for a subscription which you barely know you're doing. Forget about the subscription. Get stung for an amount of money you hadn't budgeted for. Get stuck with a service or product you don't want or need.
Today's case in point - Adobe. I don't have an Adobe licence. I don't mind paying for a limited licence for a short time, like today, when I needed Adobe to make some changes to a PDF file. This isn't something I do often, but rather than find a sub-par online cheap fake, I may as well sign up for a week's trial for a dollar. Makes sense to me. My document gets updated quickly and easily with the good software, then the licence goes away.
WRONG
They've also signed me up for a monthly subscription, not only for the Adobe suite, but their AI offering too.
I just need to fix a document. Sheesh. A ten-minute job. They want me to pay $30 a month for the Adobe, and another $12 a month for the AI.
Thankfully, it was caught in time. Once I'd done the task, I logged back into the Adobe website, cancelled the two subscriptions, made sure I had emails saying the subscriptions were cancelled, and then breathed a sigh of relief.
It just seems more and more vendors are signing you up for these subscriptions. The Adobe crew were thankfully very upfront about the subscription. Not every purchase is like that. Often the first thing you know that you've been signed up for one of these subscriptions is when the funds come out of your account.
One of the best gifts I've ever received is a voucher for the Wheeler Centre. "The Wheeler Centre?" you ask. It's a hub dedicated to books, ideas and writing, where writers and their audience can connect. Just must sort of place.
The voucher was a regift - my friend's daughter received it from her work, she gave it to her mum, and her Mum passed it on to me - for which I will be eternally grateful.
What nobody tells you is that writers are great people who tell fantastic stories and can talk underwater with a mouth full of marbles. The Wheeler Centre regularly puts authors in conversation with other writers, who sit down and chew the fat, normally about the author's new book and the themes within.
Every time I come away from these sessions absolutely blown away, not only by the ideas, but the generosity extended by the authors. Most times I'll come away from with a book as well. I mean, it would be rude not to. Besides, it's not hoarding if it's books.
So, this last week, I ended up using the last of this voucher. Last Tuesday was the talk at the Town Hall with Magda Szubanski. Last Thursday was the launch of Carrie Tiffany's new book, The Lady with the Dog, in conversation with Helen Garner. Last night I got to see Andrew O'Hagan talk with Marieke Hardy about his new book, On Friendship - a series of essays on the subject.
What gets me is how generous these writers are. They delve into their own lives, their ideas and their processes. They provoke thoughts and emotions. They inspire and entertain. They make me feel like I can write a book too.
I've already written about Magda Szubanski's wonderful session at the Town Hall. She is a true legend and icon.
Carrie Tiffany is an old teacher of mine. Her writing is amazing. Like Claire Keegan, the Irish writer, she writes small books with a huge impact. Being in the same room as Helen Garner is also very special. They launched the book with the snap of a Scotch Finger biscuit. Very Carrie. Very cool. It's always good to connect with other writers.
Andrew O'Hagan is a Scottish writer from great Glasgow. I could sit and listen to him for hours. His latest book, On Friendship, is a collection of essays on the greater theme of friendship. O'Hagan appears to be a man very skilled at friendship. He spoke of many friends, of how making people feel seen, of holding presence, of being there, and friendship's ability to morph, grow and disappear is unique to all friendships as one of the wonders of the world. It was a wonderful talk.
I bought a copy of his last novel, Caledonian Road. I've read a couple of his books - Mayflies, which looks at the end of a special friendship, is a great, thought-provoking read. As he was doing a signing, I popped up. May as well say hello, and thanks for his wonderful work.
"It's lovely, to meet you," he said as he held out a hand.
"And you, though we have met before."
"Yes, you were here at a writer's festival 25-years-ago. I was volunteering and I drove you from the hotel down to the venue. You were texting Zadie Smith. You're one of my best author stories." (This goes down with being stuck in traffic with David Malouf and saying to Graeme Blundell that my father would be very pleased I got to drive around Alvin Purple.)
O'Hagan exudes the air of the incredibly decent man.
The curse of our block has struck this side of the driveway.
It came as a text message from my downstairs neighbour yesterday morning. It appears someone finally looked into the faint gas smell you'd occasionally detect in the stairwell.
"Hey Pand, they've shut off the hot water. It seems whoever did the recent repairs botched it and we're lucky the whole thing didn't blow up."
Joy.
When you think about it, we're spoiled. Generations, eons even, have done without hot water. I know that my grandparents would have had to manually heat water daily for bathing and other household jobs.
We've just gone soft. I've gone soft. The hot water in this flat has always been good and reliable. There was no notice that the hot water service might blow up the units.
Regardless, it's been over 24 hours since we've had hot water in the flat. I've got very good at boiling the kettle. The dicky bird bath, as my mother used to call it, has become my best friend.
Thankfully, it's not too cold at the moment. Filling up the bathroom sink with hot water, give yourself a sponge bath, when quickly rinse off with the cold before giving yourself a wipe over with the last of the warm water. It's not ideal, but it does the job.
There's always a shower at the gym.
I might be able to bum a shower off friends.
We've just received the following from the body corporate:
So, there's nine flats without hot water. Mine is one of them.
Speaking to the downstairs neighbour, it once this has all passed the committee, this probably isn't going to happen until sometime next week.
I just have to remind myself that I'm lucky to be off work, I have an active gym membership, understanding friends and a working kettle. Also, as a tenant, I don't have to pay for this.
I tell myself it's a first world problem. But an annoying one, for somebody who normally showers twice a day.
