Back in October, I had the opportunity to attend a Table Talk with Catherine Crouch, a physicist, and Andy Crouch, a journalist — both religious Christians with a unique view on science and religion. I came to the table as someone who does not subscribe to any organized religion or consider themselves religious in general, and so I was curious to hear how their views of religion and science informed each other. Personally, I found Catherine’s contributions to the discussion to be more interesting and easier to follow. She informed us that her faith and her field of study did not contradict one another; rather, they served as complements to each other. According to her, science and religion are two distinct entities at the macro scale, but this isn’t so at the quantum level — there is still much to be understood about how subatomic particles “work,” and an important question could also be “why” they work as they do. This gap in understanding at the quantum scale is where religion could enter the equation — perhaps a “god” is not a being that would watch over us, but rather the reason why atoms stick together and why the universe functions in the way that it does. Although I found these views to be novel and fascinating, I personally still do not consider myself to be religious (at least in the traditional sense), and for what it’s worth as someone who does not study physics, I would imagine that there is much more that can be attributed to science before religion enters the picture. However, I will keep an open mind.
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CRISPR Curiosities
On December 4, I attended a discussion hosted by Professor Nilay Yapici entitled “Age of Gene Editing: CRISPR and Beyond.” Having had a vague interest in the topic before attending, I was glad to get more information about gene editing from someone who was knowledgeable in the subject. Firstly, I learned that gene-editing technology has become less expensive over time due to the introduction of a CAS9 protein which makes the editing process more efficient. I also learned that this technology is being used by people called “bio-hackers” who want to edit their genes to “improve” themselves in some way, and that buying CRISPR with certain desired genes is actually relatively inexpensive. There has also been a significant controversy surrounding He Jiankui, a Chinese researcher who used the technology to implant HIV-resistant genes into twins in vitro. It is clear that people are beginning to take advantage of the technology, and I am curious to see how it will be used as it becomes more mainstream.
As far as the ethics and social issues of gene editing are concerned, I was fascinated by the other students’ views about CRISPR and gene editing. Hearing others’ opinions helped me shape my own view on the subject as well. I believe that the technology, as it inevitably develops further, should not be used to “design” each and every part of a newborn — after all, variation between people is valuable and makes the world more exciting, and the newborn baby might grow to wish that their genes had not been edited in the first place. However, I believe that gene-editing for unborn babies should be used in cases where the baby might have a genetic disease that gene-editing could fix — gene-editing would create a higher quality of life for them in that situation. I also believe that experimentation on gene editing (and the edits that one can make) should be regulated, but I believe that making changes that would be beneficial to all mankind — such as promoting a gene that increases intelligence, should one exist — should be allowed and research into making such changes should not be too heavily inhibited. However, I do believe that gene-editing for some quality like increased intelligence should only be done to newborns if the same technology can be applied to adults, whose neurons have stopped growing — no one wants to be “outdated.”
I was very happy to have attended this discussion, and I found it fascinating to learn that research on CRISPR is being done here on campus. I believe that the technology has an enormous potential to do good for humanity, but also a potential to create more disparities and health risks if used incorrectly.
Successful Failure in Apollo 13
For the last Friday Film event of the semester, we watched Apollo 13 (1995), directed by Ron Howard. The film’s plot centered around the 1970 NASA lunar mission of the same name, from both the point of view of the astronauts and Mission Control on Earth. The film left much to be desired in terms of aesthetics — most of the colors in the film were drab, neutral tones and the lighting could sometimes be too diffuse and unfocused, including scenes when the astronauts were inside the capsule away from Earth. Although the settings such as the space capsule and mission control would most likely have had desaturated colors, they could have been intensified slightly in order to give a more exciting feeling to the footage. I also believe that many of the scenes that followed the astronauts in the capsule, especially after the explosion of the tank, could have benefited from more directional lighting to create a subtle sense of drama as they worked to return to Earth.
I believe that what the film lacked in aesthetics, it made up for in content. Although the events of the movie transpired slowly, they never felt boring. There was a constant sense of tension as the astronauts had to adapt to the dangerous circumstances created by the oxygen tank explosion and steer the capsule back towards Earth, and this tension was paralleled by the scenes depicting the engineers back at Mission Control, as they worked to create a quick solution to the power loss and to the increasing concentrations of carbon dioxide on the ship, for example. I also appreciated the idea of the film as a whole — the idea of reacting to a catastrophe on the ship was perhaps more exciting in terms of plot than seeing astronauts walk on the moon and perform geological experiments. I also believe that the experience that the engineers and astronauts gained from the catastrophes of Apollo 13 will only make future missions easier, as they have contributed to future knowledge about troubleshooting emergencies in space. I feel that this will be especially valuable, given that NASA claims to be working to return to the moon by 2024.
Greed and Values in Sorry to Bother You
During one of the Friday Film events, I had the pleasure of watching Sorry to Bother You (2018). The film by Boots Riley followed Cassius “Cash” Green, a man living with his girlfriend Detroit in his uncle Sergio’s garage and simply trying to survive in the capitalist United States of the 21st century. I enjoyed the film mostly because of its fascinating characters — I sympathized with Cash’s sentiments in the first scene of the film that he wanted to do something meaningful with his life, and I enjoyed watching Detroit create her art (and seeing what kind of wild earrings she would wear) throughout the film. In addition to the characters, however, I also believe that the film provided a powerful message: it can be too easy to become fixated on the idea of being wealthy. Even if one has good intentions at the outset as Cash did (i.e. earning enough money to pay off his uncle Sergio’s house and to provide more material comforts for himself and Detroit), one can easily go beyond doing good for oneself and others and become greedy, as Cash did by crossing the picket line at Regalview. The film showed that greed can backfire spectacularly, from when Cash got hit with a soda can and became a meme online, to when Detroit left him, to when he was transformed into a half-horse, half-human “equisapien” by Steve Lift, the CEO of WorryFree. Lift wanted to use Cash as a false revolutionary figure to suppress the other equisapiens, but I was happy to see that Cash went back to his friends at the end of the film, declining the offer and losing his job, even though it paid well. I also appreciated, despite its bizarreness, the resolution that occurred at the end of the film — after inadvertently becoming an equisapien, Cash and many of the other equisapiens stormed Lift’s house (presumably to take revenge on him and/or force him to turn them back into humans).
I feel that this film conveyed many messages beyond the one that I described, but I think that its anti-greed message — although incredibly hyperbolic– is especially useful at a less extreme level for college students who have chosen or are choosing their major and are pressured into considering stem or business careers, despite having other interests. I think that it will also be useful to keep this anti-greed message in mind long after college, where one might be faced with ethical decisions involving money versus personal values in the workplace.
Alternate Histories and Animation Styles
Although I saw them back in October, Kelly Sears’ animations remain ingrained in my memory. What she presented to the few of us who were present in the Cornell Cinema that afternoon was a selection of short films in which she removed imagery from its original context, and, as she described it, “made it work against itself.” Not sure what to expect, I kept an open mind as I watched the series of films.
I found “Once It Started It Could Not End Otherwise” to be the most disturbing of all the films. Although it was nothing more than a series of 1970s high school yearbook photos set against some backgrounds of an outdated high school, it managed to communicate a horror much deeper. The first aspect of the film that struck me was the feeling of awkwardness that came to mind while looking at the old yearbook photos. With the repeated appearance of the photos, Sears called to mind the feelings of dissatisfaction with our looks and of worrying about “fitting in” that seem synonymous with high school, and truly drew me into the atmosphere of being there once more. The story got darker when it mentioned a horror that had occurred at the high school in the past. In addition to the photos, there was written dialogue on screen, and notes scrawled in pen on the high school yearbook pages — yet the dialogue only hinted at the horrible event, the notes remained illegible, and the people in the yearbooks remained nameless. The only sound in the film was a vague, electronic-sounding screeching, and a loud noise that played whenever a new picture of a high schooler appeared on screen. Rather than constructing a story for the viewer, the viewer was left instead to construct their own meaning for the event, possibly calling to mind similar tragedies that have occurred in recent years, such as the Columbine shooting or other school shootings. I remember the film mostly for the visceral unrest I felt while watching it.
My favorite of the films, however, was the less disturbing, but still mysterious “The Drift.” Set in the 1960s at the height of the space race, “The Drift” told the story of an alternate America in which people no longer cared about material things or even about expanding their families — the only thing on anyone’s mind was space exploration. To me, this alternative reality sounded slightly single-minded, but still oddly inspiring — I think that it would be fascinating to live in a society where exploration beyond Earth was made a top priority. This film was the only one that employed smooth, harmonic background music, rather than discordant, jarring noise — I felt that this was appropriate, given that the plot of the film revolved around a spacecraft that got lost on its mission, but found a sound in space that was so beautiful that people wanted to listen to it constantly. Eventually, the government began to block the “contraband broadcasts” of the sound from space, and people had to simply let it go. However, although the space sound was no longer available to them, they nevertheless created their own sound in response: psychedelic rock. I thought the film was a fascinating alternate history for the underground movement created in the 1960s and perfectly appropriate for the title of the collection of films.
As I was leaving the theater, I felt a mix of emotions — unsettled by “Once It Started,” excited by “The Drift,” and most of all, fascinated by the way that Sears was able to use imagery in such an innovative way. I had considered animation as an art form in the past, but never imagined how it could be avant-garde — I was only accustomed to catching snippets of cartoons on television from time to time, or of seeing them on Youtube — always drawn out or made with CGI, using voices or upbeat music, and telling a story with a clear plot. I am grateful to Sears for giving me a new view on the medium, and I hope to see more of her work in the future.
Hollywood in Ithaca
Over the past weekend, I had the privilege of attending Sabor Latino’s 27th Annual Dance Showcase, entitled “Hollywood Night.” I was thrilled to see the show, as I had heard great things about Sabor before (mostly because of a friend who is a member of the group) and had very much enjoyed Bachata music in the past — although only casually — when my friends would play it as we were cooking or doing work together. “Hollywood Night” started off a bit slow, with a long introduction filled with Snapchat videos and pictures of the team rehearsing and bonding, as if showing the audience the hard work that they had put into perfecting their dances. However, when the dancing started, it spoke for itself. Each song was expertly choreographed, accented by intricate flips and spins and rapid movement around the stage. There was never a dull moment during the performance (…except perhaps during the long breaks between songs where the MCs would crack jokes about the dance group or other topics, but I won’t go into that here) and I appreciated how Sabor gave other dance teams a platform to share their dances as well. Afrobeats, Teszia, and the Caribbean Island Fusion groups all had the audience spellbound throughout their entire performances, and the entire auditorium erupted in applause at the end of each of their numbers. While I had not been to many dance performances before “Hollywood Night” — and did not expect to enjoy the concert as much as I did — I plan to check out many more dance groups’ showcases in the future.
Gaining A New Perspective on Women’s Rights in Myanmar
Last night, I had the opportunity to view three short documentary films about women’s rights in Myanmar: Whistle For Help, She, and Women’s Desire. The two that I found to be the most impactful were the first and second of the films.
Whistle For Help, directed by Rhoda Linton, centered around a campaign launched in 2008 to end the sexual harassment of women on buses in Yangon. The film begins on a black screen with text fading in, reading “Everyone knows about the ugliness that is happening on the bus, damaging the image of our country.” I could quickly see that this truly was the case. Before viewing this film, I had no idea that sexual harassment on buses was such a pertinent issue in Myanmar, but every woman interviewed mentioned experiencing harassment at some point in her life, whether that point was in recent years or during her youth — some of the women interviewed even mentioned that their grandmothers had experienced the same sexual harassment on the buses. The low-budget appearance of the film only added to the gravity of the issue that it was speaking about; each woman interviewed talked about how she felt and the message was communicated more directly as a result of the lack of elaborate visual effects. I also felt that this do-it-yourself aspect of the film was appropriate for the similarly low-tech solution to sexual harassment that the group in the film championed: handing out brightly colored plastic whistles to women (and men) at bus stops.
I was happy to learn that the campaign worked in the end, and that even though people do not necessarily carry around the whistles on the buses anymore, the conversation about sexual harassment on public transport has become more important and less taboo to the people of Myanmar. Being interested in design, I also appreciated how such a simple object could be so effective — the whistles were mass produced and uncomplicated in form, perhaps costing less than a dollar to manufacture, yet gave both victims and bystanders an unignorable way to say “no” that previously did not even exist.
The second film we watched was She, directed by Kyal Yi Lin Six, which focused around the lives of three women of different religions in Myanmar: a Buddhist nun, Sayarlay Ketumarla; a Catholic nun, Chit Pon, and a Muslim doctor, Dr. Thet Su Htwe (who we also had the pleasure of meeting in person). The film opened with shots of the three women each praying in their own way, with bells in the background, and this set the tone for the rest of the film. Each of the three subjects of the film spoke about their lives and the difficulties they faced specifically because they were religious women. Although I am aware that women face challenges everywhere, it was especially eye-opening to hear specific examples from these women who all had a drive to help others, such as by creating schools or helping children in IDP camps, yet were held back from implementing their ideas because of societal expectations. There was no soundtrack to most of the film, and there were many long shots of the women walking down paths or hallways, which I felt was effective in symbolizing the long journeys that they had to face in achieving their goals.
Before watching these films, I knew that I had a certain amount of privilege in being a man, but I did not truly understand what that meant. These films’ directness in communicating the obstacles of various women will help me to reflect more on that privilege in a more concrete way in the future. Despite the obstacles the women faced, I found the films to be hopeful. I found it inspiring to see them overcome — or at least begin to overcome — the challenges they faced in their lives and in the society of Myanmar, and I am grateful to have gotten this view of women’s rights from a country other than the United States.
Messages and Musical Numbers in Rent
I don’t usually watch musicals — I really don’t. Call me boring, but I honestly always think there’s too much singing where there could be talking or some other form of communication. For Rent, though, I made an exception because of how much praise I had heard heaped upon it over the years (not to mention hearing “Seasons of Love” and admittedly finding it catchy). I did not know much about the specifics of the musical before seeing it in its 2005 film version this past weekend, but I quickly saw that it was a window into the lives of several fictional New Yorkers on Christmas Eve in 1989. Despite their separate lives, all of the characters have a relationship to each other in some way, whether they are roommates, friends, or lovers. All of them also share something in common: They have been unfortunately pushed to the fringes of society in some way, whether through poverty, through their sexuality, through addiction to drugs, or through an affliction with AIDS.
As I expected, I didn’t initially love Rent — again, because of my personal distaste for musicals in general. I also wondered if this was really the best medium to be talking about the themes that were so prevalent in its plot. Shouldn’t the characters be having more conversations about what was going on in their lives rather than dancing around? And do Mark and his mother really need to half-talk, half-sing to each other about their Christmas plans over the phone? At first my answer was a resounding “no,” but I later took a step back and reconsidered. How many people were having regular conversations about struggling with AIDS, addiction, sexuality, or poverty — let alone musical ones — when Rent first premiered 1996? Although I can’t give exact numbers, I can be certain that there was less talk about these pressing issues in that time than there are in 2019. As I thought more about the musical, I also began to appreciate the risk that Jonathan Larson took in creating it– I doubt that he knew how others would receive Rent as he was writing it. Perhaps they would not respond well to its messages or to its characters, and perhaps the musical would have completely flopped. I think that song and dance take some of the seriousness away from the darker issues in Rent to make them more accessible, while also suggesting that no matter what one might be going through, there is hope and there are other people going through similar struggles. And perhaps those people aren’t even total strangers, but are in fact just friends of a friend.
I can’t lie and pretend that I’m going to start watching more musicals because of Rent. I can say, though, that I will take its concept with me as I go forward in life — that sometimes, portraying serious ideas in an unconventional way, even with some element of fun, can help get those ideas across more effectively.