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Kirk Bage (1775 KP) rated Tales from the Loop in TV
Jan 22, 2021
Such is the competition for our attention on the major streaming services, and such is the daunting depth of choice, that sometimes something of real quality can slip through the net for a while. I like to think that eventually, everything gets the audience it deserves, because eventually enough people that appreciated it will find it and pass it on. But it is apparent that good things can go under the radar very easily for one reason or another.
Everything about the production and presentation of Amazon’s Tales From the Loop suggests they thought it might be a bigger hit, or at least they had enough faith in it to let it be different from the mass appeal conventions that apply to sci-fi shows. They have proved this many times in recent years, with shows like The Man In the High Castle and The Expanse favouring patient and mature story-telling over interminable flashbangs and whizzpops usually found in the more action based sci-fi on Netflix and others (The Handmaid’s Tale being another notable exception).
Having raised myself auto-didactically on the oldest traditions of science fiction writing in novel and short story form since my teenage years, I can say with some amateur authority that the point of using sci-fi ideas was always about the people and the parallels to social reality and politics that could be highlighted by putting them in a “what-if” situation. The lazer guns and spaceships and evil aliens were much more a product of Hollywood, and still are. Great science fiction writing can and usually does revolve around a very simple change to the world we know, an inversion or a convention or a technology that turns how we live on its head. At its best it is philosophical and moral poetry.
Tales From the Loop, inspired by the beguiling paintings of Swedish Artist Simon Stålenhag aspires to return to these principles, eschewing breakneck pace and unnecessary exposition at every turn – it is entirely content to confuse and sometimes even bore you with its patient, melancholy approach, testing almost if you are worthy to reach the prize of deeper meaning buried away in the final few episodes.
The idea of Stålenhag’s work is to juxtapose a familiar and mundane landscape with a detail of technology that does not exist in our reality. Often it is something broken, run-down or neglected, leaving a strange sadness and beauty behind that has you wondering who once made this and what was it for, and why is it no longer loved? The untold stories objects and hidden lives, secrets and desires that have been lost, is what this sensitive and delicate show is about. It is about the interconnection of lives caught in time, and the sci-fi / tech conceit is only the hanger that coat is put on. Which… I love.
The surface idea is that we are looking at the inhabitants of a small American town that once relied on farming and community, but now has been changed by the presence of an underground facility that deals with experimental physics and finding ways to make impossible things possible. They call it The Loop. It is never fully explained where it came from, or why, or what it is truly capable of – the mystery is always allowed to remain mostly a mystery – which, again, I love!
Many people in the town work at The Loop and rely on it for their livelihoods and collective economy, including Jonathon Pryce and Rebecca Hall, who are ostensibly the show’s main characters. But most folk have no idea what is really going on. Each episode focuses on one or two members of the community that interweave with one another; several important people begin as background dressing and become more prevalent as the full story of their lives and connections unfolds. But no one character is in every episode… which, you know, I love.
Their lives, that seem simple at first glance, are revealed to be complex tapestries of emotion and personal history, revolving around how The Loop has affected them and the things they love. The progression and unfolding of the detail is so deliberate and usually under-explained that very often you don’t realise the effect the full image will have. And when it does catch up with you it becomes a very moving and meaningful experience. Characters that you don’t understand or even like at first come into sharper focus as we reach the climax of the season and grow to learn why they are the way they are. The story arcs of Pryce and Hall in particular are very satisfying, tragic yet utterly beautiful to comprehend.
A lot of the criticism you will see about the show will concentrate on how slow it all is. I am totally convinced this is a deliberate artistic choice to weed out the thrill junkies. They are very welcome to go elsewhere, and it sounds as if many of them did, basing their reviews on one or two half watched episodes they couldn’t be bothered to engage with or wonder at. Which is why I think in time the respect for this as a work of art will come back around.
There is nothing to fault in the production at all. From the opening credits to the end of each episode, what you get is a very highly polished and considered look and feel, designed to evoke certain feelings over others – a wistfulness, an ennui, a bittersweet smile of knowing, perhaps. It invites you to watch patiently and relate, not to watch eagerly and expect… which, you know, I love.
The photography is crisp and well framed always; the music is subtle but effective; the dialogue is often sparing and well chosen (no detail is merely thrown away); and the direction is of a remarkably uniform vision, considering each episode is a different guest professional, including such prestigious names as Jodie Foster, Mark Romanek and Andrew Stanton.
I absolutely urge anyone that isn’t put off by a little sentiment to give this one a try. Sadness and regret in life is not something to shun and be afraid of, they are parts of human experience, and I love art that explores them as concepts. Put that art in a science fiction context and I am bound to love it even more. Like the final moments of Blade Runner, we know that one day all these moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. We have to take time to see the beauty while we can, even if that beauty is painful.
It may not be for you – I don’t think it is better or worse than other things, just more… me. There is every chance that if it isn’t you… you will hate it. If you do begin, however, please see it to the finish before casting judgement – the final episode directed by Jodie Foster is truly wonderful: a pay-off of such emotion after your investment of seven previous stories, tying it all together perfectly. Rarely have I felt so stupid for not understanding the point of something sooner, or been more pleased that I hadn’t. The final moment of the season is literally unforgettable, and gets richer in my imagination by the day.
Will there be a second season? There certainly could be. Was it enough of a success to justify the investment? Hmm, not sure. Either way, it either sits as a perfect self contained collection of fine, old-fashioned sci-fi stories, or I’d be happy to see it expand, as long as the temptation isn’t to listen to the negative reviews and pander to the fast-food mentality that has already rejected it without fully understanding it. Because nothing needs to change here. A thing of beauty, recommended to those who like beautiful and delicate things.
Everything about the production and presentation of Amazon’s Tales From the Loop suggests they thought it might be a bigger hit, or at least they had enough faith in it to let it be different from the mass appeal conventions that apply to sci-fi shows. They have proved this many times in recent years, with shows like The Man In the High Castle and The Expanse favouring patient and mature story-telling over interminable flashbangs and whizzpops usually found in the more action based sci-fi on Netflix and others (The Handmaid’s Tale being another notable exception).
Having raised myself auto-didactically on the oldest traditions of science fiction writing in novel and short story form since my teenage years, I can say with some amateur authority that the point of using sci-fi ideas was always about the people and the parallels to social reality and politics that could be highlighted by putting them in a “what-if” situation. The lazer guns and spaceships and evil aliens were much more a product of Hollywood, and still are. Great science fiction writing can and usually does revolve around a very simple change to the world we know, an inversion or a convention or a technology that turns how we live on its head. At its best it is philosophical and moral poetry.
Tales From the Loop, inspired by the beguiling paintings of Swedish Artist Simon Stålenhag aspires to return to these principles, eschewing breakneck pace and unnecessary exposition at every turn – it is entirely content to confuse and sometimes even bore you with its patient, melancholy approach, testing almost if you are worthy to reach the prize of deeper meaning buried away in the final few episodes.
The idea of Stålenhag’s work is to juxtapose a familiar and mundane landscape with a detail of technology that does not exist in our reality. Often it is something broken, run-down or neglected, leaving a strange sadness and beauty behind that has you wondering who once made this and what was it for, and why is it no longer loved? The untold stories objects and hidden lives, secrets and desires that have been lost, is what this sensitive and delicate show is about. It is about the interconnection of lives caught in time, and the sci-fi / tech conceit is only the hanger that coat is put on. Which… I love.
The surface idea is that we are looking at the inhabitants of a small American town that once relied on farming and community, but now has been changed by the presence of an underground facility that deals with experimental physics and finding ways to make impossible things possible. They call it The Loop. It is never fully explained where it came from, or why, or what it is truly capable of – the mystery is always allowed to remain mostly a mystery – which, again, I love!
Many people in the town work at The Loop and rely on it for their livelihoods and collective economy, including Jonathon Pryce and Rebecca Hall, who are ostensibly the show’s main characters. But most folk have no idea what is really going on. Each episode focuses on one or two members of the community that interweave with one another; several important people begin as background dressing and become more prevalent as the full story of their lives and connections unfolds. But no one character is in every episode… which, you know, I love.
Their lives, that seem simple at first glance, are revealed to be complex tapestries of emotion and personal history, revolving around how The Loop has affected them and the things they love. The progression and unfolding of the detail is so deliberate and usually under-explained that very often you don’t realise the effect the full image will have. And when it does catch up with you it becomes a very moving and meaningful experience. Characters that you don’t understand or even like at first come into sharper focus as we reach the climax of the season and grow to learn why they are the way they are. The story arcs of Pryce and Hall in particular are very satisfying, tragic yet utterly beautiful to comprehend.
A lot of the criticism you will see about the show will concentrate on how slow it all is. I am totally convinced this is a deliberate artistic choice to weed out the thrill junkies. They are very welcome to go elsewhere, and it sounds as if many of them did, basing their reviews on one or two half watched episodes they couldn’t be bothered to engage with or wonder at. Which is why I think in time the respect for this as a work of art will come back around.
There is nothing to fault in the production at all. From the opening credits to the end of each episode, what you get is a very highly polished and considered look and feel, designed to evoke certain feelings over others – a wistfulness, an ennui, a bittersweet smile of knowing, perhaps. It invites you to watch patiently and relate, not to watch eagerly and expect… which, you know, I love.
The photography is crisp and well framed always; the music is subtle but effective; the dialogue is often sparing and well chosen (no detail is merely thrown away); and the direction is of a remarkably uniform vision, considering each episode is a different guest professional, including such prestigious names as Jodie Foster, Mark Romanek and Andrew Stanton.
I absolutely urge anyone that isn’t put off by a little sentiment to give this one a try. Sadness and regret in life is not something to shun and be afraid of, they are parts of human experience, and I love art that explores them as concepts. Put that art in a science fiction context and I am bound to love it even more. Like the final moments of Blade Runner, we know that one day all these moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. We have to take time to see the beauty while we can, even if that beauty is painful.
It may not be for you – I don’t think it is better or worse than other things, just more… me. There is every chance that if it isn’t you… you will hate it. If you do begin, however, please see it to the finish before casting judgement – the final episode directed by Jodie Foster is truly wonderful: a pay-off of such emotion after your investment of seven previous stories, tying it all together perfectly. Rarely have I felt so stupid for not understanding the point of something sooner, or been more pleased that I hadn’t. The final moment of the season is literally unforgettable, and gets richer in my imagination by the day.
Will there be a second season? There certainly could be. Was it enough of a success to justify the investment? Hmm, not sure. Either way, it either sits as a perfect self contained collection of fine, old-fashioned sci-fi stories, or I’d be happy to see it expand, as long as the temptation isn’t to listen to the negative reviews and pander to the fast-food mentality that has already rejected it without fully understanding it. Because nothing needs to change here. A thing of beauty, recommended to those who like beautiful and delicate things.
Hadley (567 KP) rated The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness in Books
Jan 18, 2021
History (1 more)
Well-written
H.H. Holmes had many aliases and lives.
He's been a doctor and a licensed pharmacist, who then conned an old couple into selling their drug store to him where he preyed on young girls and ignorant customers that would buy whatever Holmes would tell them to buy, whether it were real or fake tonics.
He was a building owner who had a murder hotel secretly built with " a wooden chute that would descend from a secret location on the second floor all the way to the basement... ", "a room next to his office fitted with a large walk-in vault, with airtight seams and asbestos-coated iron walls. A gas jet embedded in one wall would be controlled from his closet...", "a large basement with hidden chambers and a sub-basement for the permanent storage of sensitive material. "
He owned and ran an alcohol-treatment company known as the Silver Ash Institute that claimed to have the cure for alcoholism.
He was a traveling business man, who had two wives and two children. He established the Campbell-Yates Manufacturing Company, which made nothing and sold nothing.
He was also labeled as America's first serial killer. His body count is unknown even today; his victims were frequently young women, which included stenographers and house wives. He was best known for convincing people who trusted him to sign him as the beneficiary of their life insurance policies, only to kill them and make it seem an accident so he could collect the money.
Holmes grew up in a small farming village in New Hampshire, where he briefly spoke about an early fear of a human skeleton that hung in a doctor's office: " 'I had daily to pass the office of one village doctor, the door of which was seldom if ever barred,' he wrote in a later memoir. 'Partly from its being associated in my mind as the source of all the nauseous mixtures that had been my childish terror (for this was before the day of children's medicines), and partly because of vague rumors I had heard regarding its contents, this place was one of peculiar abhorrence to me.' "... "Two children discovered Mudgett's [Holmes' real last name] fear and one day captured him and dragged him 'struggling and shrieking' into the doctor's office. 'Nor did they desist,' Mudgett wrote, 'until I had been brought face to face with one of its grinning skeletons, which, with arms outstretched, seemed ready in its turn to seize me. It was a wicked and dangerous thing to do to a child of tender years and health,' he wrote, ' but it proved an heroic method of treatment, destined ultimately to cure me of my fears, and to inculcate in me, first, a strong feeling of curiosity, and, later, a desire to learn, which resulted years afterwards in my adopting medicine as a profession.' "
Erik Larson's fourth book, the Devil in the White City, is only partly about Holmes and his dark trail of murder and lies. The story told is mostly centered around the planning and building of the 1893 World's Fair. The prologue opens with one of the architects aboard a ship long after the fair has ended - - - 1912 to be exact- - - where he begins to write of the fair in his diary. The next chapter continues on with Chicago competing against other major cities to win the rights to host the World's Fair. Chicago was not the ideal place for the fair because it was known for it's crime and slaughter houses - - - this was exactly why the politicians wanted it so badly there, so it would help to lighten the image of Chicago for the rest of the world. Even the local Whitechapel Club that had sprouted up after the infamous murders by Jack the Ripper, were excited to win the rights to host the fair in their city, and celebrated in a macabre way:
"Upon learning that Chicago had won the fair, the men of the Whitechapel Club composed a telegram to Chauncey Depew, who more than any other man symbolized New York and its campaign to win the fair. Previously Depew had promised the members of the Whitechapel Club that if Chicago prevailed he would present himself at the club's next meeting, to be hacked apart by the Ripper himself - - - metaphorically, he presumed, although at the Whitechapel Club could one ever be certain? The club's coffin, for example, had once been used to transport the body of a member who had committed suicide. After claiming his body, the club hauled it to the Indiana Dunes on Lake Michigan, where members erected an immense pyre. They placed the body on top, then set it alight. Carrying torches and wearing black hooded robes, they circled the fire singing hymns to the dead between sips of whiskey. The club also had a custom of sending robed members to kidnap visiting celebrities and steal them away in a black coach with covered windows, all without saying a word.
The club's telegram reached Depew in Washington twenty minutes after the final ballot, just as Chicago's congressional delegation began celebrating at the Willard Hotel near the White House. The telegram asked, 'When may we see you at our dissecting table?' "
There are chapters in-between, technically reading like a side story, that tell us about Holmes and his misdeeds in Chicago, but there just wasn't enough about Holmes that I could consider this a True Crime book, nor an informative book about Holmes. Unfortunately, when the reader begins to really dwell into the story of Holmes, it's quickly ended by having two or more chapters about the building of the World's Fair. One interesting point about the story is that the reader does get to see how many inventions were brought to light because of the Fair, such as the invention of the Ferris Wheel. Larson's writing is very coherent and the descriptions are so well done that the reader is practically transported back to the late 1800s, yet, before I finished the book, I felt misled by the title... then coming across everything that happened to not only the Fair, but the people who were involved with it, it's hard not to wonder if the whole thing was cursed, thus the Devil being in the White City.
One of the side stories I did really enjoy was the slow unfolding of a man named Prendergast. A delusional young man who ran one of the groups of paperboys in Chicago, who was also obsessed with politics, became a determined supporter of Mayor Harrison; after Harrison was voted into office again, Prendergast believed it was because of him and the letters he sent out to numerous politicians and potential voters. Prendergast also believed he deserved a chair on the council for Harrison's re-election, for which he even showed up at City Hall to take over. This incident was the straw that broke the camel's back for Prendergast - - - he was humiliated when the people there laughed in his face. Prendergast then decided to take matters into his own hands, and bought a revolver. The day before the Fair would end, Prendergast showed up at Harrison's home and shot him. Harrison died minutes later. Prendergast turned himself in for the murder as soon as he left Harrison's residence. When asked why he had done it, Prendergast responded: " ' Because he betrayed my confidence. I supported him through his campaign and he promised to appoint me corporation counsel. He didn't live up to his word.' "
This book has been voted as a top True Crime must-read novel. I don't agree with this. As I said before: Holmes' chapters are few; eighty percent of this book is about the building of the World's Fair. As a True Crime junkie, I didn't enjoy this one, but also as a history junkie, I enjoyed learning about the Fair and everything that happened. I can't recommend this book to TC fans or horror fans. It's mostly history and architecture.
He's been a doctor and a licensed pharmacist, who then conned an old couple into selling their drug store to him where he preyed on young girls and ignorant customers that would buy whatever Holmes would tell them to buy, whether it were real or fake tonics.
He was a building owner who had a murder hotel secretly built with " a wooden chute that would descend from a secret location on the second floor all the way to the basement... ", "a room next to his office fitted with a large walk-in vault, with airtight seams and asbestos-coated iron walls. A gas jet embedded in one wall would be controlled from his closet...", "a large basement with hidden chambers and a sub-basement for the permanent storage of sensitive material. "
He owned and ran an alcohol-treatment company known as the Silver Ash Institute that claimed to have the cure for alcoholism.
He was a traveling business man, who had two wives and two children. He established the Campbell-Yates Manufacturing Company, which made nothing and sold nothing.
He was also labeled as America's first serial killer. His body count is unknown even today; his victims were frequently young women, which included stenographers and house wives. He was best known for convincing people who trusted him to sign him as the beneficiary of their life insurance policies, only to kill them and make it seem an accident so he could collect the money.
Holmes grew up in a small farming village in New Hampshire, where he briefly spoke about an early fear of a human skeleton that hung in a doctor's office: " 'I had daily to pass the office of one village doctor, the door of which was seldom if ever barred,' he wrote in a later memoir. 'Partly from its being associated in my mind as the source of all the nauseous mixtures that had been my childish terror (for this was before the day of children's medicines), and partly because of vague rumors I had heard regarding its contents, this place was one of peculiar abhorrence to me.' "... "Two children discovered Mudgett's [Holmes' real last name] fear and one day captured him and dragged him 'struggling and shrieking' into the doctor's office. 'Nor did they desist,' Mudgett wrote, 'until I had been brought face to face with one of its grinning skeletons, which, with arms outstretched, seemed ready in its turn to seize me. It was a wicked and dangerous thing to do to a child of tender years and health,' he wrote, ' but it proved an heroic method of treatment, destined ultimately to cure me of my fears, and to inculcate in me, first, a strong feeling of curiosity, and, later, a desire to learn, which resulted years afterwards in my adopting medicine as a profession.' "
Erik Larson's fourth book, the Devil in the White City, is only partly about Holmes and his dark trail of murder and lies. The story told is mostly centered around the planning and building of the 1893 World's Fair. The prologue opens with one of the architects aboard a ship long after the fair has ended - - - 1912 to be exact- - - where he begins to write of the fair in his diary. The next chapter continues on with Chicago competing against other major cities to win the rights to host the World's Fair. Chicago was not the ideal place for the fair because it was known for it's crime and slaughter houses - - - this was exactly why the politicians wanted it so badly there, so it would help to lighten the image of Chicago for the rest of the world. Even the local Whitechapel Club that had sprouted up after the infamous murders by Jack the Ripper, were excited to win the rights to host the fair in their city, and celebrated in a macabre way:
"Upon learning that Chicago had won the fair, the men of the Whitechapel Club composed a telegram to Chauncey Depew, who more than any other man symbolized New York and its campaign to win the fair. Previously Depew had promised the members of the Whitechapel Club that if Chicago prevailed he would present himself at the club's next meeting, to be hacked apart by the Ripper himself - - - metaphorically, he presumed, although at the Whitechapel Club could one ever be certain? The club's coffin, for example, had once been used to transport the body of a member who had committed suicide. After claiming his body, the club hauled it to the Indiana Dunes on Lake Michigan, where members erected an immense pyre. They placed the body on top, then set it alight. Carrying torches and wearing black hooded robes, they circled the fire singing hymns to the dead between sips of whiskey. The club also had a custom of sending robed members to kidnap visiting celebrities and steal them away in a black coach with covered windows, all without saying a word.
The club's telegram reached Depew in Washington twenty minutes after the final ballot, just as Chicago's congressional delegation began celebrating at the Willard Hotel near the White House. The telegram asked, 'When may we see you at our dissecting table?' "
There are chapters in-between, technically reading like a side story, that tell us about Holmes and his misdeeds in Chicago, but there just wasn't enough about Holmes that I could consider this a True Crime book, nor an informative book about Holmes. Unfortunately, when the reader begins to really dwell into the story of Holmes, it's quickly ended by having two or more chapters about the building of the World's Fair. One interesting point about the story is that the reader does get to see how many inventions were brought to light because of the Fair, such as the invention of the Ferris Wheel. Larson's writing is very coherent and the descriptions are so well done that the reader is practically transported back to the late 1800s, yet, before I finished the book, I felt misled by the title... then coming across everything that happened to not only the Fair, but the people who were involved with it, it's hard not to wonder if the whole thing was cursed, thus the Devil being in the White City.
One of the side stories I did really enjoy was the slow unfolding of a man named Prendergast. A delusional young man who ran one of the groups of paperboys in Chicago, who was also obsessed with politics, became a determined supporter of Mayor Harrison; after Harrison was voted into office again, Prendergast believed it was because of him and the letters he sent out to numerous politicians and potential voters. Prendergast also believed he deserved a chair on the council for Harrison's re-election, for which he even showed up at City Hall to take over. This incident was the straw that broke the camel's back for Prendergast - - - he was humiliated when the people there laughed in his face. Prendergast then decided to take matters into his own hands, and bought a revolver. The day before the Fair would end, Prendergast showed up at Harrison's home and shot him. Harrison died minutes later. Prendergast turned himself in for the murder as soon as he left Harrison's residence. When asked why he had done it, Prendergast responded: " ' Because he betrayed my confidence. I supported him through his campaign and he promised to appoint me corporation counsel. He didn't live up to his word.' "
This book has been voted as a top True Crime must-read novel. I don't agree with this. As I said before: Holmes' chapters are few; eighty percent of this book is about the building of the World's Fair. As a True Crime junkie, I didn't enjoy this one, but also as a history junkie, I enjoyed learning about the Fair and everything that happened. I can't recommend this book to TC fans or horror fans. It's mostly history and architecture.