Dear Wags,

When you are pummeled with takes, when the whole world rushes to its phone to wail We are Doomed, we suggest you set this rattling device aside and take a breath. Sadly, you are not the director of the grand cosmic shit show. You do not get to select whatever craziness gets hurled at you. Colorful catastrophizing won’t bend the arc of history a micron in your direction. The side of the political spectrum with all the liberal arts majors will lapse into days of eloquent flagellation. Wallow while ye may, but if you believe things are truly that dire, then it’s maximally self-indulgent.

Our national pastime is denial. We despise reality so much we’ve nurtured vast industries to stoke our fantasies. We talk a blue streak about freedom while tunneling deeper into virtual dreamland. Well, this is what happens when you get a kick in the pants. Over the next few days, insiders will scramble to figure out their next moves. Advice will be incessantly proffered from all quarters. A decent guy has major decisions to ponder. Oh, it isn’t right or fair—get over it. Real leadership demands sacrifice; you can’t just be for nice-sounding stuff, you must make the case. If not, all those heartfelt posts about looming authoritarianism were disingenuous.

In some ways, the timing couldn’t be better. We all head into our national holiday with some homework. Can we ever climb out of the muck and articulate our higher values? Can we still do hard things, not to serve ourselves but for the great and troubled country we are? Nations get the standard bearers they deserve. Go ahead and moan is this the best we can do? This is not fantasy baseball, this is the system we have. Many months and more disasters from now, you’ll still have a choice to make.

Cataclysm can be clarifying. If your answer to bad news is more delusion and gaslighting, you’re playing the game that put us in this spot. The real world is frightening, but after 247 years, it’s past time to grow up. Nobody said that it was easy for Americans, young and old, to face imperfect reality. But if not now, when?

Yours Ever,

The Runaways

Fancy Dance (Theaters/Apple TV+). Wag Erica Tremblay has confected a tough-and-tender family drama starring Oscar nominee Lily Gladstone as Jax, a low-rent hustler who must parent her 13-year-old niece (Isabel Delroy-Olson) after her sister vanishes. The girl’s white grandparents don’t approve and the state gets involved, so the pair hit the road. Chemistry between the leads lifts this yarn into higher realm. — Vic Joseph

Oater

Horizon: An American Saga (Theaters). Let’s address a great cultural divide: Kevin Costner’s lavish cowboy epic is unloved by critics, but pencil necks always misunderestimate him (OK, they called Water World). This conventional Western is the sort of gamble nobody takes anymore —it’s three hours long and all over the place! Yet it’s the sort of ego-driven star project we can’t help but applaud. Is it good? Well, it’s gorgeously shot, and aimed at folks who yearn for grand sagas, not agitprop. The sandy-haired maestro says this behemoth is the first of a four-part franchise. Now, that’s gumption, pardner.—John Dunbar