The Giants bounced into the playoffs on Sunday on the strength of some solid pitching, a little bit of here-and-there hitting, and one big fly from a rookie catcher who plays as though he’s had some kind of Cal Ripken Jr poise-transplant. To call Buster Posey “old school” is a misnomer; there weren’t many 23 year-olds like this back then, either. I wouldn’t say that faith is my strong suit as a baseball fan, and my early sense in both of the first two San Diego games was that the Giants would lose. But the final game had a different feeling, and despite a largely average offense, when their pitching has been on it’s really been on. I called Posey’s home run, despite his 0 for 12 mark to that point in the series. “Right here Buster – take him deep,” I said aloud and to myself, watching my small computer screen. Outside of a few profanities, it had been the only thing I’d muttered in three days. I make no predictions moving forward to the playoffs, and those hung up on such things obviously don’t get it. This was the culmination of a 162 game season and the Giants won the West. If you can’t wrap your head around that, then you’re a Yankee fan, and one who misses the point that even their most stirring recent season came in 2001 when they came up short in the World Series.
In a less competitive realm, I took in two movies in recent weeks – Woody Allen’s You Will Meet A Tall Dark Stranger and David Fincher’s The Social Network. The decision to see both was based largely on positive reviews – specifically David Denby’s for the Allen film. I’ll generally take a chance on most things Woody does, and have no real problem with his tireless insistence on life’s meaninglessness. But I failed to channel Denby’s experience of the film and can’t bring myself to proclaim it “perverse and fascinating.” Much of Allen’s late-life work is reminiscent of George Carlin’s final routines, minus the overt bitterness and served in a slightly more urbane manner. Still, it’s always inspiring to see Josh Brolin portray a dumpy, middle-aged, has-been novelist who can seduce the stunningly beautiful and engaged young woman across the courtyard by explaining that he’s been spying on her through the window.
Social Network was a different deal entirely, and despite my initial resistance to the subject matter I found it to be a quick-moving two hours. While by no means a flattering portrayal of Facebook creator Mark Zuckerberg, I wouldn’t call it a hit piece, either. As the credits rolled, the well put-together dude sitting next to me with his girlfriend remarked “that movie did its job – I wanted to punch that guy in the face.” Curiously, my experience was quite the opposite, and while assuming that much of the content was highly fictionalized, my post-viewing impression of the Zuckerberg character was more favorable than what little I’ve pieced together about the real-life kid billionaire. Maybe if Zuckerberg had the West Wing writer feeding him the same snappy, condescending dialogue, he’d come off as equally unlikable but a bit more defined. In any case, The Social Network’s message that life is unfair is still marginally more palatable if no more reasonable than Woody Allen’s that it has no point at all.
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