Hello Smarty, It's Apocalypse Wag!

Democracy dies in pyrotechnics (Civil War, courtesy of A24).

Dear Wags,

As a species, we share a fetish for the apocalyptic. Human beings are hardwired to dwell on nightmare scenarios because our brains allow us to conceptualize a future. And what a gift of survival it is, to be able to plan ahead. But there’s a downside to having this imaginative power. We don’t plan for the future so much as dread it. We’ve always spun stories about what looms ahead, and these narratives are not distinguished by optimism. An insidious talent for conjuring doomsdays drives our entertainments. Let’s face it, airy-fairy visions of paradise are rather dull. Bring on Sodom and Gomorrah.

A vast array of media feeds this need to get off on cataclysm. The rhetoric of authoritarianism —those dark dreams of smashing the old order, beating up punks, and frogmarching elites to prison—gives a demographic what it wants. In a polarized society, language on the extremes endlessly raises the stakes — all to the satisfy doom jones. A crowd can decry genocide and creepily thirst for it at the same time. If we really don’t want the end of the world as we know it, why do we spend so much time conjuring it up?

We decry real atrocities (never again!) while hallucinating about dystopia (it’s time to take out the trash). Maybe this is just what a bored public does in cossetted civilizations —get its jollies from the drowning of Atlantis, the calamity of the Great Flood, The Towering Inferno, Godzilla, nuclear meltdown, the collapse of democracy.

This gets tricky when actual hazards are cropping up everywhere. It’s hard to alert a distracted polity to danger without turning it into just another show. Social media hones the capacity for petty outrage, while dulling the ability to confront genuine horror. Nihilism is a nasty online hobby, paralyzing many of us and milking an appetite for real destruction among the damaged.

Is it even possible to tell an unsexy story—that flawed liberal democracy allows for a diversity of human beings to lead comfortable and dull lives—and keep an audience engaged? The center may not hold, and it is lousy at providing dopamine hits.

Alex Garland’s Civil War attempts to pry worries about authoritarianism from current political binaries, so that it may be looked at as a systemic challenge. In other words, this is not a red-blue thing but a civilization thing. Partisans find this frustrating (Garland deliberately constructed a world where Texas and California fight on the same side), but his point is that alliances shift while existential questions fester. There are those who believe in democratic institutions and disagree about politics. And there are those who get off on jack boots and Molotov cocktails. If that’s the plot, whose side are you on? Those who reject the premise may have already chosen.

Civil War is a critical darling, which probably says nothing good about its ability to win the bigger argument. Then again, it’s making money as an action movie. Do the pyrotechnics help Garland’s case? The canniest argument tucked into his picture is that civil disintegration is not always sweeping spectacle. Pockets of normalcy persist in the most war-torn societies. If we’re already indulging in dark fantasies, it’s hard to imagine a Boise in the throes of armed rebellion while a Menlo Park slumbers on.

Who knows what the real future holds. If the past is our gauge, it will be prosaic and lurid at once. Garland seems to think is that our uncertain present is a variation on his theme. Hot wars erupt here and there, blazing with increasing intensity while the rest of us keep scrolling. It’s possible our civilization is constructed to take the heat. Then again, we may not look up until the whole place is on fire.

Yours Ever,

Clash of the Intellectual Titans

Freud’s Last Session (Netflix). Suppose Sigmund Freud (Anthony Hopkins) and C.S. Lewis (Matthew Goode) got together at the start of World War II. They almost certainly didn’t, but Wag Mark St. Germain’s adaptation of his own play imagines the clash. The founder of psychoanalysis was an an atheist and Lewis was a Christian apologist—that would make for a philosophical Thrilla from Manila. Hopkins has an unfair advantage, having also played Lewis in 1993’s Shadowlands. Still, Goode can summon the powers of Aslan. Some may say it’s stagey, but life can’t be all parachute jumps. Brace yourself for the badinage. —Ben Sobel

Lost Girls

Under the Bridge (Hulu). Dame Lily Gladstone follows up her Oscar-nominated turn in Killers of the Flower Moon with this thriller based on the case of Reena Virk, a Canadian teen whose 1997 murder exposed a subculture of teen violence. Gladstone is the cop investigating the killing, while Riley Keough is a reporter delving into some very dark corners. The Pacific Northwest stars as its soggy, spooky self. — Donna Hayward

The Durst That Could Happen

The Jinx-Part Two (Max). A decade ago, Wag Andrew Jarecki brought us The Jinx, a kind of ur-text for true crime documentary. In it, we met Robert Durst, real estate billionaire and murderer. The rest is media legend — Durst was arrested the day before the show’s finale aired and in that episode, he appeared to confess. The sequel picks up from there, following his prosecution. The jury is in: He’s an indelible and singularly disturbing character. —Laura Manion

Conan O’Brien Must Go (Max). Conan O’Brien’s genius is for mortification. His new travel series ships him around the world to make nice people very uncomfortable. Inspired by his podcast Conan O’Brien Needs a Fan, the show takes us to Norway, Argentina, Thailand, and Ireland. Hijinks with a pasty slice of ginger ensue. As a comedy of cultural misunderstanding, it is supremely goodhearted. The point is simply that we are all more tolerant and funny than we think. And that the tall guy wants to be the esperanto of punchlines. —Audrey Griswold