Ivan K

@ivankander.bsky.social

193 Followers 588 Following

Repping the DMV. Bad filmmaker. Mediocre motion designer. www.lucky9studios.com thereisnttimeforthat.substack.com

A screenshot from my spam inbox from a sender named "George Ottoman," which is a delightful fake name
An egg sandwich with lamb sausage, cheese, and hash brown served on English muffin
The Connor O’Malley Iran tweet
I realize the absurdity of equating the most popcorny of popcorn movies as some sort of symbolic representation of American idealism, but really, is there a better cinematic metaphor for “look how good we had it?” In retrospect it was a death rattle, but at the time, Endgame felt like we had summited pop culture Everest: the culmination of 12 years of cinematic world-building, combining dozens of obscure comic book characters into a satisfying narrative that gripped the cultural conversation that somehow defied the internet’s propensity to fragment. Even your Facebook Aunt knew who Starlord was. That’s insane.
As the show unfolds, while the narrative doesn’t fully abandon its whodunit premise (and, admittedly, Conrad throws some delightful red herrings in there), it is clearly less interested in that side of the story. In a way, DTF St. Louis—like a crab being cooked in boiling water—changes its temperature so steadily, that you don’t even realize you’re actually watching a show about sad and lonely people—sad, lonely people who are desperately struggling to forge some kind of connection, and the ridiculous lengths they will go to do that. Clark and Floyd love one another, yes, but it’s a platonic love, and I love how emphatically the show reinforces that point. This isn’t a show about gay men having to hide their true selves on the down low, but rather, how far they are willing to go for one another—even when common sense seems to indicate that they should stop…even when acts of ostensible kindness to lead to something destructive.
You see, to have a game of catch is to have a conversation: something physical to do with your hands while you connect with the person in front of you. It’s not competitive like one-on-one basketball or even horse. You aren’t playing a game so much that you are talking, a rhythmic call and response, ball against leather—chit-chatting through each exchange. It’s a seemingly endless volley that can only be curtailed by the lowering sun. As I grow older, I often feel like time is moving at a speed that I am unable to get in sync with. They’re growing up so fast. There is still so much I want to do. I’m always busy and feel guilty when I’m not. I always feel out of breath. But, baseball is never rushed. Each inning follows the next with no stopwatch to dictate how much time is left. One pitch after another. The game will continue on without you, and, when the time comes, it will be there for you when you are ready to come back home again.
A screengrab from the Twilight Zone episode, "Eye of the Beholder"
As I followed behind my daughter on the trail, her little legs barely large enough to fit around the body of this massive creature, I found myself growing nostalgic for something that wasn’t even over yet: I imagined her bigger and older and moody…I pictured me in the future, longing for her like this, so filled with wonder at something so basic. As parents we talk about seeing the world fresh through our children’s eyes (yes, another cliché), and that aphorism hit me especially in the gut this past weekend.
The Apollo dodgeball gift of prophecy meme
A screengrab from season 3 of the White Lotus where a drugged up Jason Isaacs points a gun at his head while wearing a duke t-shirt.
These are the true joys of a “7 out of 10” game—an entry into the medium that isn’t necessarily high-art, but also one that rewards my time and doesn’t insult my intelligence while playing it. It’s a video game that is meant to be “played” not “survived,” and in a gaming landscape chock full of “git gud” Soulslikes or rogue-like grinds, it’s damn refreshing.
A linked in job posting for an AI prompt specialist to describe film scenes. Bleak shit.
In a world where everything is content, it’s important to care about what you are actually producing. Although the structures of capitalism have taught us differently, the goal isn’t subscribers or profit or growth. No, the goal is fulfillment, and fulfillment can only come through making things that matter to you, regardless of how many people click the little thumbs up icon underneath said creation, even if that creation is just words put into sequence. It’s important to think critically about things. It should never be enough to simply “like” a movie or TV show or video game; it’s important to interrogate why. And, through that interrogation you might, ultimately, discover something deeper about yourself, and—perhaps more importantly—those around you. It is not enough to simply consume the world. We must participate in it
Absolutely terrible attempt to make corn tortillas fresh
A screenshot of my phone touting how good melting cabbage is
A screenshot from the detective video game "The Roottrees are Dead"
A screenshot from Xbox gamepass suggesting that Dredge is a relaxing game.
My goodreads year in review image
The Vince Mcmahon reaction meme indicating the various elements of the indie deck building game, Death Howl
Screenshot from Season 4 of the Righteous Gemstones, featuring an image of the "Cape and Pistol" society.
Yes, Caught Stealing is very much a “movie”—not a film—and I think it’s very interesting that Darren Aronofsky—a very notorious “filmmaker”—decided to make a movie. Regardless of your opinions of his oeuvre, Aronofsky is incontrovertibly an auteur, so it’s cool that he has used his powers to craft something that isn’t meant to be particularly deep or nuanced. Rather, he just gave us a good time at the movies. Coming from the man who brought us both Requiem for a Dream and Black Swan, that’s a surprise. And, the fact that a studio actually gave him $40 million to make a movie like this…well…that feels like a miracle. Darren Aronofsky has a sense of humor? It’s true…people really do contain multitudes. All this to say, I wish more auteur filmmakers would do this. I want Ari Aster to make a studio thriller. I want Noah Baumbuch to give us a straight-up romantic comedy. I want Kathryn Bigelow to make something Point Break-esque again (instead of whatever House of Dynamite was supposed to be).
All this to say, how can we separate the art from the artist? This basic debate has come up often in the world of movies—where problematic filmmakers are finally being called out for disgusting and often illegal behavior. But, does that mean folks shouldn’t watch Annie Hall in a film studies class? Does Rosemary’s Baby get stricken from the record? Is it possible to enjoy the art without somehow supporting the artist? I’d argue that the two are inexorably linked; bifurcation is impossible. In the case of Hogwarts Legacy, it gets even more complicated: a team of literally hundreds of people—developers, artists, writers, animators—brought this game to life, and I’d imagine the majority of them disagree or are actively opposed to Rowling’s views. But, yet, by building such an elaborate piece of Harry Potter lore, they too are feeding the machine, both with financial and cultural capital. By preserving the legacy of the property, they too preserve the legacy of its creator. There is no unraveling that thread.
Screenshot from my substack newsletter that reads: "Eddington is a Thanksgiving movie in that it is representative of the awkward interactions that occur at a yearly meal with family members you hardly see, ripped from our bubbles and forced into ceremonial congregation. It’s where barely-researched—but strongly held— ideals clash with one another, where Facebook posts and Twitter memes are confronted with the reality of the person spewing them. After the niceties about weather and football fade away, you begin to realize that your dear old uncle is actually kind of racist, or that perhaps you didn’t really know as much about clean energy or bitcoin as you thought you did. The irony of modern life is being inundated with information, yet, also still being woefully uninformed about most things."
Meme image of Frank Costanza from Seinfeld complaining about motion smoothing.
Well, as a father of two, I have a theory: kids don’t so much like mac and cheese as they like the blue box that comes with the powder. The homemade stuff? Fancy gruyere and shredded cheddar? They ain’t having it. As a food snob, I refuse to submit to the altar of Kraft, and so I stubbornly always make mac and cheese from scratch. My homemade variation basically amounts to buttered noodles, some milk, shredded cheese, salt, and paprika, mixed together in a single pot. My kids like this okay, but they also don’t go bananas for it like I’m always secretly hoping (to be fair, it’s always a bit bland). And, of course, I have to suffer through their eye rolls when they discover the vegetables I try to sneak in there. Dad!? Are these frozen peas?!
A scribble of a stussy symbol I found in my sons bedroom
After the series’s inciting incident where Ron Trusper is humiliated by a faulty chair, we watch him deal with the mundane insanity of “normal” American life. Ron just wants to talk to someone on the phone, but alas, he’s forced to navigate stock-photo filled, corporate-speak laden websites, useless and infuriating AI Chat Bots (“you’re a fucker!”), an ouroboros of phone trees and bad on-hold elevator music. Is Ron Trusper crazy? Or, are we insane for living in a society that has normalized all this? Just yesterday I tried to buy groceries at an Amazon Fresh, only to find that my “smart cart” couldn’t recognize the store QR code on my phone, and thus, didn’t keep track of my scanned items, resulting in me having to wait in line for 10 minutes so that the check out clerk could just scan my items manually—you know, like they’ve been doing for the last five decades. It’s amazing that we all haven’t snapped already. Tim Robinson is clearly fascinated by the dumb rules and mannerisms of “polite” corporate culture—how we all comply with arbitrary guidelines or default into HR speak…the way off-hand comments can become obsessions, and, ultimately, how people at their core only care about their own wants and desires (a recurring bit where the father of Trusper’s daughter’s fiancé kept bringing up how often a dead dog used to bother him had me rolling). As I often glibly joke to my wife: Everybody is nuts about something. Robinson’s oeuvre, through the characters he plays or encounters, is emblematic of that idea.
The real question mark for me is that I have no clue how OpenAI or Meta or whomever else intends to make money off this garbage. And, let’s face it, all of these tech projects, at some point, need to figure out how to make money to satiate their investors. Social media is already a tremendously difficult industry to monetize; people won’t pay to use the service, so you are reliant on advertising or other avenues for revenue. In other words, the currency is eyeballs and the content itself—created by users—is free. But, with AI slop video apps, the content is no longer freely generated…it costs money and time—compute, energy, server usage, whatever—to make these things. So, now, literally the only selling point of social media as a business—the fact that users will self-generate the stuff that people will want to click on, and thus, appeal to advertisers looking for eyeballs—is gone. Silicon Valley has managed to make an unprofitable industry, less profitable? Amazing. We thought the future was flying cars? No, it was computers burning hectares of rainforest in order to get enough compute power to generate facsimiles of existing social media videos, which are then being commented on and viewed by other computers. Gosh, our technodystopia is way more boring than I thought it would be.
Me dressed as Nathan Fielder for Halloween
Screengrab of me beating Silksong
Maron’s departure truly is the end of an era. The podcast boom has been punctured by the enshittification that always swallows any endeavor dependent on profit and constant growth. Honestly, I’m just glad Maron is quitting on his own terms…that he got out before selling out (albeit after uttering hundreds of ad-reads for Shari’s Berries). And, really, at this point, what more could I have asked for? Maron has talked to practically everyone—from guitar players to politicians who share my last name. Dude deserves a break. Still, though, it’s hard not to get a little weepy knowing that his familiar voice just won’t be there anymore: on neighborhood runs, when I’m cooking dinner, when I can’t sleep. Marc Maron has been the soundtrack of my life for nearly 15 years. Everything ends, I realize, but that doesn’t make it any easier to say goodbye.
Cover art for Rainbow Rowell's Eleanor & Park.
Screencap from my newsletter reading: "I very much believe that watching anything done well is inherently interesting. Obviously, the most common realization of this in modern life is sports—it’s fascinating to watch people in peak physical shape and ability face off against one another in athletic competition. But, this sense of wonder can apply to anything if there is enough skill or passion behind it: painting, model-making, sand castle building, and, yes, of course cooking. Not to derail this newsletter post too far into the weeds, but this fascination in the process itself is one of the main reasons why AI-generated material feels so soulless…we are denied seeing the struggle of creation. In watching true masters of the craft smoke brisket, I was often left slack-jawed at the effort these folks put into their work—an effort not driven by monetary reward, but rather, by a desire to be excellent at something…to make something delicious. In a world driven by capitalist incentives, I was moved by the sentiment."
I’m not suggesting that beating Silksong is actually an “important” endeavor: in the grand scheme of things, I know that completing a video game is literally childish. But, I do think there is something more to glean from all this self-induced thumb pain. You see, Silksong’s ultimate thrill comes not from collecting items or trinkets (none of the upgrades fundamentally make the game any easier), but rather from the vicarious joy of thinking something is impossible only to realize that it, in fact, actually isn’t—that you are capable of much more than you ever dreamed of. It’s a general aphorism, yes, but it proves there is some value in my struggle.
Book cover art for Cory Doctorow's Picks & Shovels
But if BoJack’s specific niche was show business, Long Story Short’s is Jewishness. Yes, the show has plots and characters that don’t revolve around Judaism, but every frame of this show is packed with Yiddishkeit. As a basic pitch, I recognize that’s not particularly unique: there’s lots of comedic Jewish stories that have been been told via mainstream platforms (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Seinfeld). But, I just don’t think anything has ever felt this authentic before. The Jewish characters in Long Story Short aren’t there to fill stereotypical roles nor does Waksberg relegate Judaism to only its cultural identity (e.g. Bagels and lox! Nagging mothers! Guilt!). The great accomplishment with this show is that Waksberg manages to give us all these things—the bagels and nagging mothers and Borscht-belt affectations—but also grounds it in a reality that exists beyond the punchlines and expected tropes. This show is unafraid to explore the faith directly and how it is being practiced (or not practiced) in the United States today.
Achievement for beating “the last judge” in hollow knight Silksong
Cover art for "Careless People" by Sarah Wynn-Williams
Screengrab from my Newsletter, "There Isn't Time for That" reading: When you have kids, you don’t so much sit down to “watch a movie” as you do “watch it increments”: 30 minutes at night here, another 20 there. Soon, you have inadvertently turned a single piece of art meant to be consumed in a solitary sitting into an extended miniseries. For me, the length of each impromptu "episode" is often determined by how long my wife can go before falling asleep. Look, I’m not pointing fingers…life is tiring. My personal resting state is exhausted. Both of us get up early, work all day, make lunches and dinners, and clean up improbable messes (You’re 11! Use a fork!). Come 9pm, sometimes the best either of us can muster is 15 minutes of The Bear before tapping out. Still, though, I’ve noticed that the kind of material we watch is directly proportional to how long my wife will last before the sweet siren’s call of slumber beckons her home.
I don’t know about you all, but I need a timeline cleanse. The world is feeling especially dour as of late, so I retreated to the thing that brings me comfort when I feel smothered by the darkness.. Yes, I am talking about food…
Screengrab from my substack newsletter, There Isn't Time for That, reading: "I’ve made a lot of short films. All were impractical. But, I’d argue that, for all intents and purposes, all art is impractical: ideas that need to be expressed regardless of any rational reasoning. As soon as you start getting strategic or practical with what you want to create, you are essentially just making a corporate video—a corporate video for an imaginary non-paying client. Your art loses it’s soul. I often think back to an interview that Mike Birbiglia did with the New York Times way back in 2016 (god, does that seem like an eternity ago!) during his press tour for the indie comedy Don’t Think Twice. In it, he said something that has stuck with me ever since: “Cleverness is Overrated, Heart is underrated.”
Screenshot of comedic legend Tim Meadows on season 2 of HBO's Peacemaker saying "Who's the Nerd?"
Book cover art for Kaveh Akbar's novel, "Martyr!"
A screenshot from my newsletter reading the following: "I try to limit my 11 year-old son’s time on YouTube—I really do. But, ever since he got his first hit a few years ago (with Minecraft videos, naturally), he’s been more or less addicted. At first, I waved off the YouTube video obsession as a sort of boredom filler when he wasn’t allowed to watch TV or play video games, and thus, stole my phone just so he could watch ANY screen. But, quickly, I realized something I found—if not outright alarming—certainly surprising: when screen time is allowed, he’d RATHER watch YouTube then watch TV or play video games. And, for the real kicker: he’d rather watch YouTube videos of SOMEONE ELSE playing video games then play them himself. Perhaps I’m just slow on the uptake, but all this seems to speak to a fundamental shift in what we watch and why we watch it."
Screenshot from Gore Verbinksi’s the Ring
Tomas from the Orphanage
Tom Hanks as Jimmy Dugan from a "League of their Own" tells Dottie Hinson (Geena Davis) that things are supposed to be hard.
Screenshot from my substack newsletter, "There Isn't Time for That" that reads: I’m not immune to the surface-level lizard brain appeal of this: wouldn’t it be cool if I could produce a great painting without actually having to learn how to paint? I have ideas! I think I know, generally, what would make a pretty picture! The problem is the idea isn’t the thing—it’s never the thing—the end product is, and that end product has to be the result of the process, otherwise it doesn’t mean anything. You have to suck before you can be good, and, yeah, sucking at something—well, sucks—but it’s the sucking that allows you to learn and become better.
The poster for Netflix's animated comedy, Long Story Short.
The book cover for the "The Heart in Winter" by Kevin Barry
When you travel with kids you don’t so much go on vacation as you simply watch them in a different place—a place that isn’t as well-stocked with all the stuff you need to keep them happy and occupied. Even if you take one of those trips designed to be kid-friendly, full of all the bits and bobs tailor-made for their enjoyment (ice cream! theme parks! interactive museums!), you will, still, undoubtedly be bombarded with moans and complaints of boredom. And, of course, the experience is often not comfortable or relaxing.
Nickel Boys is the rare piece of art that feels essential—essential such that if you were to remove it from the cinematic world—Thanos snap it out of existence—the loss would be devastating to culture at large. I’ll be honest: it took me about twenty minutes to really get on Nickel Boys’ wavelength. Again, I had to force myself to stick with it; force myself to not cheat and look at my phone. But, almost like an act of meditation—once I stopped forcing myself to appreciate it—once I surrendered to it—I found myself consumed by it, riveted by both what it had to say and how it used the tools of cinema to say it.
The cover for Emma Pattee's novel, "Tilt."
Screenshot from my Substack newsletter that reads: "I turned 40 this past week and was feeling melancholic as a result. My life is half over and I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m having the predictable, boring existential crisis that befalls men of a certain age. Though, instead of having a desire to test drive sports cars or becoming inexplicably interested in golf, I found myself having romantic visions of casting off the yolk of the oppressive capitalistic system, eschewing my material possessions, growing a beard, and taking to a life on the sea."
But, yeah, as much as I want to rail on The Bear for the things I think it gets wrong, it’s important to focus on what it gets right—on the reasons I fell in love with this show and its characters in the first place. Despite my issues with theatricality or pretension (words, perhaps not coincidentally, often used to describe highfalutin fine dining experiences), at its core, The Bear is a show with its heart in the right place. It’s warm and life-affirming: exhibiting how true value comes from human connection and artistic creation; it’s about flawed but good people trying to do their best, often failing, but having the courage to try again.
Book cover for Emily Nussbaum's book, "Cue the Sun!"
A screenshot from my newsletter that reads: "I don’t think I ever will be a true multiplayer gaming fan. Sometimes I just want to put on noise-canceling headphones and zone out. Some people do Yoga. I play Slay the Spire. But, I cherish the It Takes Two experience I had with my kids. I don’t mean to be hyperbolic and suggest that it repaired our relationship (it’s not like it was particularly damaged to begin with) but we did go through something together. There’s meaning in that. So often video games are denounced for how isolating they can be: kids huddled in front of glowing screens in darkened rooms, avoiding “real” interaction and connection. But, It Takes Two, via its collaborative nature, is inherently the opposite of that. We weren’t just playing a game, we were partners: on screen and in the real world. And, despite what the title of this newsletter suggests, there should always be time for that."
30 second edit of a scene from Hulu's the Bear with dialogue removed and only character's nodding.
Screengrab from my blog that reads "All this to say, it got me thinking on a larger question—something that bothers me much more than having my kid hear some swear words. In basic terms: who are these superhero movies for? I realize this is a loaded query and the Marvel machine has utterly reshaped the cinematic landscape for better and worse (mostly worse). But, the very fact that Superman has any of the above elements, clearly means it isn’t for current kids. It’s for…well…it’s for nerds like me—40 year-old millennials who grew up watching Superman/Batman The Animated Series in 1997 and still wish they were kids. And—I dunno—like…maybe it shouldn’t be? After all, this is Superman we are talking about here: if there ever was ever a comic book movie you should feel confident taking your kid too, isn’t this it? The one that features the guy who is selfless, caring, trusting to a fault…you know…truth, justice, and the human way…all that jazz… Honestly, I’m less frustrated with James Gunn and more annoyed with me and my fellow man-children. We’ve had our shot and then some: our childish fantasies and play things have already been realized on screen beyond our wildest imaginations—we’ve had three Ant-Man movies for crying out loud!"