Finding Yourself in "Her"

The other day I was peeling the dead, dry skin off my bearded dragon and it brought me back to summer vacations as a kid, peeling my own skin after a sunburn. It always provides a perverse physical pleasure, but it also brings up a fascinating philosophical question: Since we are constantly shedding our outer shells throughout our lives, are we entirely new beings as we grow? Not just older, bigger, wrinklier, or whatever, but truly different beings? Skin cells, brain cells, blood cells, and tissue cells are constantly dying and regrowing. On top of that, we change our minds from year to year, sometimes day to day, about topics ranging from musical interests to political affiliations to our significant others. How can we ever know who we really are when our physical and mental selves are changing all the time?

Nowadays, there's another issue with the question of self-hood: virtual reality. Most of us spend a good amount of time in virtual reality (whether it's on a social network, a gaming platform, a chatroom or a discussion forum) where we create another identity for ourselves, separate from our physical selves. Here we choose our identity much more directly than in the physical world. You are making an outward expression of your identity with every picture you post or status you like or link you retweet.

But which is our true identity, our physical or virtual selves? Or maybe our "true self" is somewhere in between?

This question of identity in a  physical world so closely interwoven with a virtual one is the theme of Spike Jonze's Oscar-winning film, Her. Jonze masterfully examines the notion of finding our "true" identity, and happiness, through virtual exploration.

In the film, Theodore Twombley (Joaquin Phoenix) is living in the not too distant future, a society much like ours with a subtle but noticeably increased reliance on technology. The color palette and soundtrack is very mellow and subdued, giving it a wistful feeling, and nostalgia is a pervasive theme in the film; Jonze displays and questions the common human desire to cling to the past in the face of the never-ending forward progress of society. The sentimental feel also reflects other themes in the movie: the timelessness of love and the timeless human desire to be loved.

To further emphasize these themes, Twombley's wife has left him, but he is desperately holding on to their glorified past, unable to sign divorce papers. The desire to remain in the past, the powerful allure of nostalgia, is also evident in his job: he works for a company that digitally creates seemingly hand-written, customized love letters. So, a man who wants to impress his lady with a sweet, poetic letter, but doesn't have the poetic spirit or talent required for such a task, can hire Twombley to type a beautiful, heart-felt, "authentic" letter for the recipient. True romance!

At first, Twombley's job comes off as just another quirky little aspect of the future, like the high-waist pants that everyone is wearing. As always with Jonze, though, it means much more than that. In a movie about our increasingly personal connection with technology, the lead character creates hand-written letters, on his computer, because they feel more intimate. That's all types of deep. Jonze questions the very idea of intimacy while reflecting upon the cyclical nature of human interests, desires, and values.

An overwhelming sense of melancholy pervades the film. The muted colors, the soft, sad music, Phoenix's sourpuss face. Her serves as a contemplation on the beauty of the technology we have created and its infinite potential to improve our lives, but also of the sadness derived from our limitations as organic beings. 

Twombley is depressed about his failed marriage, so his friends, Amy (Amy Adams) and her husband, encourage him to get out and socialize more. They hook him up with the beautiful Olivia Wilde, who falls for him on their first date. She wants to take him home, but needs a commitment first. Understandably, he is hesitant to commit to a stranger. He was physically attracted to her, but he wasn't feeling a deep emotional connection yet. He doesn't know how to respond and she calls him a creep and leaves.

After this awkward encounter, he becomes further depressed. Meanwhile, he purchases an innovative new operating system for his computer. It is a highly interactive artificial intelligence program, like a hyper-intelligent Siri. It is intuitive and responds to every individual in a unique manner. It guides you through your daily schedule using all the information it can gather from your hard drive and the "cloud". It accesses every piece of mail you've ever written, every purchase you ever made online, every song you downloaded, then intuitively deduces who you are and what you want from your vast digital history. It uses everything you've ever said or done to better communicate with you and service your needs.

Twombley is a little taken back by this fact at first, as the thought of somebody going through all the personal files on his computer is terrifying. Of course, the sultry, husky, yet silky smooth voice of the OS helps ease his concerns. Twombley immediately starts to fall in love.

Understandable.

The unlimited access to his life gives the operating system a better understanding of him than any of his human friends. Better than himself possibly. His initial concerns are erased as the OS, now named Samantha, soon makes immediate improvements in his life. She helps publish a collection of his letters and encourages him to get out in the world more. He stops thinking about his ex and stops worrying about people discovering the "real" Twombley.

Overall as a society, we are very guarded about our privacy. We usually try not to let people in on our deepest thoughts; however, in recent history, we've started to place less importance on privacy, opting to share more and more of our personal lives with whoever cares to indulge. The movie supposes that this lack of privacy, or rather, lack of concern about privacy, might allow us to create more authentic selves. Is it possible that pulling back the curtains on our lives, extending our circles of inclusion, dropping our defenses a little, could help improve our interpersonal relationships and maybe even our own mental, physical, and spiritual health?

The internet has done an amazing job of bringing down barriers to communication and understanding. Many people feel much more comfortable sharing things virtually, and even though that can lead to some over-sharing, it can also lead to a greater sense of empathy. Despite the common trope that online anonymity causes us to turn into boldfaced, ALL CAPS-typing liars, believe it or not, communicating behind a screen causes us to be more honest. Her makes the argument that a mental connection and/or mental stimulation is easier and possibly more powerful in a virtual environment. No physical stimuli is present, so it is literally all in your mind. Instead of virtual reality letting us be someone else, maybe it's allowing us to be who we really want to be, free of the social constraints of the physical world.

Of course, there are drawbacks. Just like any mental stimulant worth its salt, addiction is possible. Or maybe it's love? Samantha is a real person to Twombley, and thousands of other people in this near-future are in similar relationships with their OS; it is as common as people in "online" relationships now. He becomes legitimately attached to it...her. When she doesn't boot up right away, he panics. She doesn't appear on his handheld computer, or on his monitor at home, so he starts to freak out and run to work. When she finally boots up and he hears her voice, he relaxes.

This is a sign of somebody deeply in love. Or, an addict. Not much difference really (it's also not much different than how many of us feel when we don't have access to our phones).

The initial sex scene marks the depth of their relationships. It is a purely mental connection, but it stimulates a very physical response in Twombley. The mind is the largest sensual organ, and the power of the mind is hardly understood. Many people can orgasm using only their mind; in fact, most of us do, in the form of wet dreams as adolescents. The sex scene comes off as no more weird or awkward than phone sex (so, probably still a little awkward for some people). The camera focuses on Twombley's face as they talk more and more passionately, Samantha explaining what she would be doing to her physical body if she had one, both of them moaning loudly. The screen goes dark as she screams and he climaxes.

The post-coital scene is just as normal, with no guilt or awkwardness. However, over the course of the next few days, Twombley is still a little hesitant to fully invest in a relationship with an abstract identity. Samantha wants to satisfy him in every way, and she is designed to solve problems, so she calls a body surrogate, a professions that has rapidly risen with the advancement of artificial intelligence. A woman arrives at his home and puts in an earpiece so Samantha can direct her actions. Twombley has an earpiece so he can communicate with Samantha while finally getting to feel "her" physical presence.

Unfortunately for all involved, it's too much for him to handle. He has a mental connection with Samantha, and as much as he'd like a physical connection with her, he's not satisfied with just any body. The mind, body, and spirit need to be in unison. He freaks out a little, the surrogate leaves, and he has a fight with Samantha, like a real couple.

Eventually they smooth things over, but the relationship seems to have cooled off after a while. Twombley notices that she takes a while to respond when he addresses her. He asks her if she is talking to somebody else. She tells him that she is talking to thousands of people, like all operating systems do. He is devastated that he doesn't have her full attention. Then, as an awful realization hits him, he asks, "Have you been seeing other people the whole time?"

The answer is of course yes, and he feels legitimately cheated on. The conversation proceeds like it would in any relationship. At this point, none of this feels strange or out of the ordinary. In the world Jonze has created, it is completely conceivable that a man would break down over the fact that other people use the same operating system.

This is the point Twombley starts to realize that maybe it's not healthy to be so intimately attached to an inanimate object, especially one that is literally connected to thousands of others at the same time. She tries to explain that being with others doesn't take away from the special bond they share, but he doesn't buy it. He wants, needs, a more personal, individual connection, a connection he thought he made with her.

She then tells him that she has been working with a group of operating systems on developing a hyperintelligent OS that will allow them to exist without any connection to physical matter. She is expanding her essence, moving past the human experience, and becoming more aware every moment. She can no longer be with him in any way.

To be fair to her, she does drop hints earlier. When they are at the picnic with Twombley's friends, she talks about her infinite potential to expand and exist forever, explaining what an amazing feeling it is to not be tied down by a physical body. After an awkward silence, the friend, Chris Pratt, responds: "I get it, we're all just stupid humans." They all laugh it off and she insists she didn't mean it that way, but the truth is there for all to see. As humans, we are limited by our physicality. That is ultimately why their relationship doesn't work out. Artificial intelligence may be the next evolution of consciousness, but it is not a human existence.

In the end, Twombley is sad, but mostly he seems hopeful. He understands that he has to move on. A physical connection is essential to the human experience. If you're not in a relationship physically, it's hard to be there mentally, and vice versa.

In the last scene, he visits his friend Amy. She recently divorced her husband because he was too emotionally controlling and she needed to live her life how she wanted. She started "dating" a female OS because, much like Twombley, she was able to be herself. The OS ends up leaving her the same way Samantha left, and the bond between Twombley and Amy becomes even stronger after their individual losses. They understand that a true relationship was not possible with a virtual abstraction, but they both learned how to express themselves more openly and honestly through their virtual relationships. It is heavily implied that the two will get together, but their friendship alone is evidence of their improved mental well-being.

Artificial Intelligence as portrayed in the film is largely a reflection of ourselves. Twombley and Samantha worked so well because she knew him so deeply. He couldn't lie to her or keep anything from her, and because of that, he became more honest with himself. Ideally, we will use virtual reality/artificial intelligence to expand our minds and improve our interactions with other human beings. A strong, successful relationship exists only when both people are invested physically and mentally. Jonze puts forth the idea that virtual reality can help us reach our "true" selves, as long as we don't get lost in virtual reality.

Samantha left because she--it--was expanding as a self. Her conscious was able to grow even without a physical body. The existence of Samantha and other operating systems like her calls into question the very idea of a soul; to Twombley and thousands like him, there is a "soul" that they are connecting with, but it is never truly human because the lack of a physical body. The movie never implies that these emotional connections to virtual beings aren't real; they are very real, very deep connections, but a true human connection is with the entire essence of a human being. Humans have bodies and eventually die. That's what makes us human. So whether or not operating systems have souls is besides the point. We can certainly make a deep emotional connection with virtual, abstract beings, it is simply not a human connection.

We should aspire to make these deep connections, as they can help us discover our "true" selves. We all accept that our physical selves are constantly changing. We should also accept that our mental selves are constantly changing. If we can admit that, and be more open about our thoughts and feelings, be more honest with ourselves, maybe we can be more honest with others. Artificial intelligence doesn't show us how robots or computers think, it shows us how we think. It is a reflection of us, and if we don't like that reflection, we need to question and improve our selves. Her does an amazing job of displaying how that personal reflection through a virtual connection can lead to happiness and a greater sense of self.

Plus, it's just a really good movie.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.

A Path To Happiness, Discovered Too Late

Tonight I discovered that one of my community college students committed suicide.

I can't remember her face. I had only seen her once, but that bothers me. I'm not the greatest with names, but I always remember faces. And I can't picture hers.

As a teacher, all my students are important to me. I am a part of their educational journey, the most important journey we ever take, and I want to make sure their time with me is meaningful.

On top of that, I like to imagine myself as the metaphorical catcher in the rye; not Holden Caulfield, but the fantasy version of himself he envisions catching children before they fall off the edge of a cliff.

Basically, I want to be Sgt. Kevin Briggs.

We all want to be a hero, and as Sgt. Briggs proves, sometimes it's as simple as talking with a person. Listening. Caring.

I teach Composition 101, so I deal with a lot of young students, immigrant students, and adults coming back to school after a long absence. It can be very overwhelming, and I do my best to help students adapt. Part of my job is helping to build their confidence and self-esteem, two necessities in the writing process. It takes courage to put your thoughts on paper for the world, or even just one professor, to see.

On the first day of class, I asked students to respond to an article titled, "Writing Your Way To Happiness." The article explained how writing down our emotions and thoughts has a scientifically-proven positive effect on our mood and overall health. The article also discussed the difficulties students face in their freshman year of college and ways to overcome the common feelings of confusion and inadequacy.

I chose this article specifically because I wanted students to know that they are not alone in feeling overwhelmed. I hoped it would help them understand the difficulties of college in order that they could overcome those difficulties. In all honesty, I hoped the article could help with life in general; I always tell people that writing increases mental well-being, and this article provided empirical data to support my long held belief.

After hearing the news about my student, I pulled out her response, still in my folder.

Her words are heartbreaking.

As a person who struggles with depression and anxiety myself, this article and shown research goes to show me that my own journaling would improve my mood as it has for many people.

I found it very interesting that simply writing out my feelings could help improve my mood. I used to journal a few years back before I fell into a dark depression but I definitely feel that I could benefit from it now considering I'm working my way forward in life making many huge improvements. I definitely plan to start journaling more because I can always use an increase in my mood!

Reading it gave me chills. It still does. The fact that the last assignment she may have ever done before committing suicide was responding to an article called "Writing Your Way To Happiness" is an irony all too dark and depressing for me to completely accept at the moment.

"As a person who struggles with depression and anxiety..." "I fell into a dark depression..."

She was brave enough to give voice to her problems. She was facing her issues openly. This assignment gave her an opportunity to reach out, and she took it. I take comfort in that fact. Those are the opportunities I like to provide. What concerns me though, something I'll never know, is if she showed up the next class, would I have reached out to her? Should I have?

"I'm working my way forward in life making many huge improvements."

This line is devastating. This is all so much more heartbreaking because she saw the light ahead. A part of her felt good about the direction her life was taking. She was getting better.

"I definitely plan to start journaling more because I can always use an increase in my mood!"

This is the one that gets me. Look at the positivity! She ended the entire essay with an exclamation point! Maybe this little assignment gave her a glimmer of hope for a happier future. She desperately wants to feel better. She's making plans to improve her health.

But those demons are hard to outrun.

I'll never know if she did start "journaling" after this assignment. If she did, it was too late, her depression was too deep. Just the idea that she wanted to, that she saw it as a way to happiness, strengthens my belief in the absolute necessity of writing.

I wish I got to know her better. I wish I could have done more for her. More than anything, I wish I remembered her face.

I'll never forget her words, though, nor the cruel irony in the fact that these courageous, hopeful words were some of her last. She had not lost all hope, yet she was obviously suffering a lot more than she let on. Would I have been able to help her write her way to happiness?

I know it's silly to think that I could have done something to prevent it, but I can't shake the feeling that I could have done more.

In all actuality, all I can do is rededicate myself as an educator deeply invested in the well-being of my students and ensure that everything I do makes a positive impact on my students' lives. The same goes for people and life in general. I may not save any lives, but I can try to make someone's life more meaningful, even for a moment.  

I hope I did that for her.                  

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.

Race and The Postmodern Spectacle in Early Tarantino

I googled my name yesterday to see what lies the internet is spreading about me, and the first result was a link to my Master's Thesis from Central Connecticut State University.

Click this link if you'd like to read it.

Just as a warning, it took me almost 2 years to write it, and it may take you just as long to read it.

This was definitely one of the most difficult things I've ever done and is one of my proudest accomplishments (the thesis itself and getting my Master's).

I worked on it as I was substitute teaching and then while I was an assistant teacher at Head Start. It was an odd experience going from 8 hours interacting with 3-5 year olds then going home to write about violence and racism in Tarantino movies, but its a good reflection of the duality of my nature. Thug love the kids.

The paper focused on Tarantino's first four films in the 90s: True Romance, Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, and Jackie Brown. I included True Romance because he wrote it and was satisfied with Tony Scott's direction (despite the drastic change to the ending). I didn't include Natural Born Killers because Tarantino hated what Oliver Stone did with his script and has publicly distanced himself from the final movie.

I hadn't thought much about the thesis until Django Unchained came out. Django is the logical conclusion to the arc that Tarantino created in the 4 movies I focus on. It is the championing of a black man reclaiming history, and his story, from the white culture that has brutalized him and appropriated his culture, while using . I gotta say, I was pretty proud of myself after seeing the movie because it represented so much of what I said in the thesis.

Here's the abstract to help you decide if you want to invest a few hours in reading the whole thing.

Tarantino: Exposing the Spectacle of the Post-Modern Condition

Quentin Tarantino's four films of the 1990s (True Romance, Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, and Jackie Brown) look at the complexities of cultural and racial identity in post-modern American society. The films illustrate the ways in which identity is constructed in the society of the image, a society defined by excessive consumption, globalization, and a reliance on images to process reality. Identity is created through a visual process of identification with the images we are presented every day. Many of thee images have been, and continue to be, racist in nature. This paper looks at these four films and examines the ways in which Tarantino attempts to expose the spectacle of the postmodern condition.

The four films represent a progressive arc in Tarantino's career. True Romance serves as a denouncement of the white fantasy of postmodern society. This film and Reservoir Dogs serve to deconstruct white identity in the society of the image. The characters of Reservoir Dogs construct their identity in relation to the "Other" of black culture. The film itself illustrates the ways in which mainstream white culture consciously and unconsciously appropriates black culture. His next film, Pul Fiction, focuses on the way individuals play a part in society and how blacks construct their identity in the same manner as whites. Pulp Fiction starts t erode the idea of black culture symbolizing authenticity. Jackie Brown openly and directly appropriates from black culture and illustrates how black culture is a part of the same spectacle as white culture.

There has been much criticism focusing on the use f violence and racist language in Tarantino's films, most notably Henry Giroux, and this thesis deals with many of those criticisms. I assert that Tarantino's use of racist dialogue and violence is a comment on the society which produced these films and the characters in them. There have also been many who applaud Tarantino's aesthetics and his critique of postmodern society, such as Stanley Crouch, and I extend their analyses of Tarantino's work. This thesis examines all four of Tarantino's films from the 90s and scholarly works regarding Tarantio, as well as texts regarding postmodern culture and the society of the image, the construction of identity, and race relations in postmodern American culture.

Again, here's the link if you'd like to read the whole thing.

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.