Tap twice to heart this post. #cinefile #nofilter #bestlife

My frustration at not seeing Ingrid Goes West sooner is matched only by my delight at having finally done so. Aubrey Plaza, whom I love (Parks & Rec!), plays unhinged one moment, socially awkward the next better than anyone else I can think of (have you seen Legion!?). The knowing portrayal of a certain type of California social media bohemian by Elizabeth Olsen manages both pinpoint accuracy and razor parody.

But the way the writers/director/cast refrain from fully picking a side makes this movie special. They could have fallen into the trap of stalker movie cliché pretty easily, and this could have ended at bad melodrama. Lonely weird girl tries way too hard to befriend internet obsession, craziness ensues.

Instead, this film shows sympathy for Ingrid. She’s not well, ok, but she really just wants some friends. Meanwhile Olsen’s Taylor is no innocent; she’s manipulative, insincere, and most of all a hollow mask of perfection. Her social media life cries out for constant attention, asks for you to “follow” her, to “feel” like her friend along for the perfectly bourgeois ride. But then Taylor the person pushes away anyone who gets too close if they’re not good for her diligently curated “brand”.

Ingrid suffers from depression and could get better, though the film’s ending suggests otherwise. Taylor, on the other hand, will likely only ever get worse. If that’s the case, who’s the real villain?

Are social media influencers monsters?

Do they sort of have to be to become one in the first place?

Is it possible to befriend someone you start off following on the internet, or with someone who starts off following you?

The key to any strong friendship, or business, is well-coordinated hairstyles.

Not every good professional collaboration becomes a social friendship, some friendships make terrible business partnerships. Maybe the qualities that make people good at working together are different from the ones that develop into deep emotional bonds, and that’s okay.

At the same time,  friendships start in workplaces every day. And doesn’t it sound like a dream to start a fulfilling and successful business with your best friends? How fun would that be?

I have personally found leaping the gap from cool coworker to actual friend very difficult. Maybe that’s just my hangups. How about you?

Do people you like at work become your friends outside of work?

What’s behind your failure or success to merge those worlds?

Do you like things that way, or wish you could change them?

There is no fire-fighting in this game. Only fire-watching. Respect the restraint.

As an adult male that begrudgingly accepts the label “gamer” — I play them regularly, I follow the latest releases — my favorite movement in games right now is toward shorter, more focused narrative games. Games that steer away from grand adventure and intense action and tell intimate interactive stories. Games that feel like they’re made by adults, and for an adult sensibility; games that don’t require lightning reflexes or hours of dedication to enjoy or excel in. Gone Home, Her Story, SOMA, and The Beginner’s Guide are some of my favorite recent examples, and now currently, Firewatch.

The setup: main character Henry flees a difficult relationship situation to work in a fire lookout tower for the park service in Wyoming. It’s beautiful, isolated, and lonely, but for his boss and eventual friend Delilah on the other end of the handheld radio.

Playing the game consists of exploring your patch of forest, dealing with minor problems (some which later become major ones), and getting to know the woman on the other end of the radio as you do your jobs. There’s some excitement, definitely some mystery and tension, but no fighting, racing, collecting, or puzzle-solving like other games you might play. You can’t die or lose. You can’t even jump.

But it’s moving, it’s human, it’s beautiful both visually (the scenery, lighting and color palettes are spectacular) and emotionally. It feels grown-up, which so few video games manage to do. And at least for me, it made me think about my life and my relationships, which almost no games do. So, based on the big-boy ideas dealt with in Firewatch, two topics for discussion*:

(*saving the others that might spoil surprises in the game)

Henry takes the job as a fire lookout to get away from a tough relationship, needing time to think and sort out his life.

Why do we associate going out into nature with figuring out our lives?
Aside from quiet and lack of distraction, what are we looking for when we “get away from it all”?
Aside from nice landscapes that make good photos, what is the emotional benefit of “natural beauty”?

Henry “meets” Delilah over the radio, and for the rest of the game she’s really your only other point of human contact.

Have you ever become friends with someone you’d never met in person?
How did they become your friend?
How was your friendship with them different than with people you have met?

Not addressed: all those downward-facing photos with feet poking into frame.

Rarely do I feel my mind changing dramatically in real time. This was one of those moments.

I, like many, looked at obsessive selfie-takers with contempt. “So self-absorbed. How can a person enjoy the world around them if they’re only ever looking at themselves? If someone’s highest priority is posting images to show off the curated version of their life they want to represent online, aren’t they simultaneously cutting themselves off from truly engaging with that very life in the world as it happens?”

This (quite) long and well-reasoned argument from Medium entitled simply “Selfie” may take a while to read, but is full of passionate (and convincing) reasons that I was simply wrong. That selfie-taking is more about learning to love oneself, and take control of the way we are seen by the world. It’s powerful stuff.

Here’s the secret: Nothing destabilizes power more than an individual that knows his or her own worth, and the campaign against selfies is ultimately a crusade against widespread self-esteem. What selfie-haters fear, deep down, is a growing army of faces they cannot monitor, an army who does not need their approval to march ahead. They fear the young, the technologically savvy, the connected… so these selfie-haters want to silence and erase the faces they don’t understand. It is that simple. Anyone who hates selfies outright is likely in the position of privilege to never have felt invisible. They fail to perceive the value that a new way of seeing can bring to so many lives.

This article gets one of my very highest recommendations for provoking conversation on a topic that I’m guessing has very entrenched stances on either side.

Forcing yourself to consider selfies as a socially empowering and positive tool, how does that change how you see other people taking selfies?

How might it change your own behavior around taking and posting your own?

Or if you don’t buy into this argument at all, what’s your best explanation for the rise of the selfie? What needs are being met, what social role do these images play?