Earlier in the week I watched for the third time Michael Mann's theatrical debut, "Thief" (1981). Starring James Caan and Tuesday Weld, it's a hard, gritty thriller about a career jewel thief who thinks that he can escape the life with one last job, but finds himself trapped by the criminal underground. |
My first two times viewing it, I saw the film as the story of a man whose only commitment was to his own independence and who would do anything to preserve that independence, even if it meant destroying the life he had built for himself. But on this viewing, I was struck by two lines of dialogue — one by Caan's character, Frank, and one by his antagonist, Leo, played by Robert Proskey — which suggest a different way to read the movie. |
By this point in the film, Frank has completed his one big job and has come to Leo, who hired him, to collect his money. Instead of the full payment, however, Leo gives him a portion, claiming to have invested the rest. Frank is furious: |
You are making big profits from my work, my risk, my sweat. But that is OK, because I elected to make that deal. But now, the deal is over. I want my end, and I am out. |
He brandishes his gun, gives Leo a deadline for the money and leaves. Later that night, he's beaten and kidnapped by Leo's men, after which Leo gives him a lecture: |
You got a home, car, businesses, family, and I own the paper on your whole [expletive] life. … Your kid is mine because I bought him. You got him on loan, he is leased, you are renting him. I'll whack out your whole family. People'll be eating 'em in their lunch tomorrow in their Wimpyburgers not knowing it. You get paid what I say. You do what I say, I run you, there is no discussion. |
I want you to work, until you are burned out, you are busted, or you're dead … you get it? You got responsibilities, tighten up and do it. |
To my mind, these two scenes of dialogue and the context in which they occur — an independent laborer who has contracted with the equivalent of a corporation, out of a mistaken belief that he can maintain his independence — give the film an almost Marxist tint. |
Frank does the job. He even takes pride and satisfaction in it. But the deal isn't what he thought it was. And he can't just quit. There's a contract. Leo, as he reminds him, owns the paper on his life. Frank will labor until he can't, and Proskey will take the profit. |
Or perhaps not? When Frank demands his money, when he tells Leo that Leo is profiting off the "sweat of his labor," Leo says that Frank ought to join a labor union. Frank, revealing his weapon, says, "I am wearing it." And when it is clear that Leo will not let him quit, Frank uses his "labor union" to break that contract and assert his autonomy over himself and his labor. If his labor cannot be extricated from his life, and if his life cannot be extricated from his labor, then he must destroy his life in order to secure his labor. |
I don't have any other thoughts on this, at least not at this moment. What I will say, however, is that this is why you should spend time rewatching movies, not just for the pleasure of it, but because you never know what you'll take away or how the passage of time will change your view of seemingly familiar material. |
My only column this week was on Senator Raphael Warnock's first speech on the Senate floor. In it, he called on Congress to defend voting rights and in doing so, evoked the words of some of the first Black Americans to serve in Washington: |
A Black lawmaker from the South, urging his mostly white colleagues to defend the voting rights of millions of Americans is, to my mind, an occasion to revisit one particular episode in the history of American democracy: the fight, in Congress, over the Civil Rights Act of 1875. The first Black members of the House of Representatives, some of them former slaves, were prominent in this battle. They saw the bill as vital in the fight against discrimination and race hierarchy. Their arguments still resonate in our own time and found echoes in the Rev. Dr. Warnock's speech. |
Jiayang Fan on the dehumanization of Asian women in The New Yorker. |
Ken Schwencke on the difficulty of gathering accurate hate crimes statistics in Pro Publica. |
Chrissy Stroop on sex and conservative evangelicalism for Religion Dispatches. |
Vinson Cunningham interviews the historian Robin D.G. Kelley for The Los Angeles Times. |
Another photo from that old point-and-shoot I bought. I've been using it a ton and have really come to like it. This is a photo of downtown Charlottesville, Va., sometime in the afternoon, when the shadows are strong and distinctive. |
Now Eating: Olive Oil Refried Beans |
I am willing to put energy into making breakfast, and I am willing to put energy into making dinner, but I like my lunches to be as easy and straightforward as possible. This is one of those recipes. Refried beans made with a lot of olive oil and a lot of garlic, served over buttered toast and topped with cilantro, fresh cheese and green onions. If you use an Instant Pot, and if you soak the beans overnight, you can have this done in well under an hour. Best way to reheat it is to save some of the bean cooking liquid and rehydrate the refried beans in a nonstick pan. Recipe comes, slightly modified, from the Cooking section of The New York Times. |
- 1 pound dried pinto beans
- kosher salt
- a generous pinch of baking soda
- 4 fresh or dried bay leaves
- 10 garlic cloves, peeled
- 1 small dried chile of any variety
- ⅔ cup extra-virgin olive oil
- 4 thick slices country-style bread, grilled or toasted
- 1 garlic clove, peeled
- ⅓ cup chopped cilantro for garnishing
- ¼ cup chopped green onions for garnishing
- fresh cheese such as feta for garnishing
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The night before cooking, remove any debris from beans. Rinse them, then place them in a 4-quart Dutch oven or pot of similar size. Add 6 cups water, 1 teaspoon salt and the baking soda. Cover and set aside in a cool place for 8 to 12 hours. |
To cook, add bay leaves, garlic and chile to the beans and bring the pot, uncovered, to a boil. Taste the cooking water and adjust seasoning as needed; it should taste pleasantly salty. Reduce heat to a gentle simmer, partly cover with a lid and cook until beans are completely tender and just beginning to fall apart. Depending on the age of your beans, this can take anywhere from 1 to 3 hours. Throughout the cooking time, monitor the pot to ensure the beans are always submerged, adding more water as needed. When you suspect the beans might be done, taste five of them. If they are not all creamy through to the center, keep on simmering. |
To fry the beans, remove the bay leaves and chile from the bean pot. Discard the bay leaves and mince the chile. Set a large cast-iron or other frying pan over high heat, and add about half the oil. Add the minced chile. Use a slotted spoon or sieve to add beans and garlic — but not their cooking liquid — to the pan. Reduce heat to medium, and with a potato masher or wooden spoon, stir and mash the beans into a silky paste, constantly stirring and scraping to keep them from sticking to the bottom of the pan. Add about ¼ cup bean cooking liquid to loosen the mixture, then gradually add remaining oil. If the bean paste is too thick, continue adding cooking liquid as needed, being mindful that it is seasoned with salt. When the mixture is rich and velvety, taste and adjust seasoning with salt. |
To serve, lightly rub warm toasts with raw garlic, then slather with a generous amount of bean paste. Top with garnishes. |
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