“Two things control men’s nature, instinct and experience.” – Blaise Pascal

 

Head vs. Gut, Part II:

How to Educate Your Gut Instinct to Help You Make Profitable Decisions 

 

In Part I of this essay, we talked about gut instinct – what it is and why it is such an important ability to develop as you work yourself up to the top ranks of business and wealth building. Today, I want to suggest a system for developing an A-level gut instinct. 

 

JSN, my second important mentor in business, was also the person that taught me my first important lessons about building wealth.

 

Of his many impressive qualities (a great memory, a mind for details, a skilled negotiator, etc.), the one that most impressed me was his uncanny knack for knowing almost instantaneously whether or not a business idea would work.

 

He had, in other words, a world-class gut instinct for money-making ideas. It was much better than mine, and much, much better than that of most of the businesspeople I’ve worked with since. I thought of him as a kind of profit shark. In a vast sea of money-making opportunities, he could detect, sometimes from a great distance, the one that had blood in it.

 

Back then, I thought of this talent as inborn. Now, I believe it’s actually a skill that can be developed.

 

According to the Harvard Business Review article we looked at in Part I, gut instinct is an aspect of emotional intelligence that resides in the part of the brain that recognizes and stores patterns. When it sees such patterns again, it sends an urgent emotional message to the conscious mind.

 

In one situation, it may say, “Watch out! This is going to end badly.” In another situation, it may say, “Wow! This sounds great. Jump on it!”

 

This process, as I said, is based on pattern recognition. And though the stored patterns are not the result of rational analysis, it’s quite possible that they can match up with rational, experience-based conclusions that have been made by the conscious, rational mind.

 

When that happens – when your gut instinct matches some theory you’ve developed over time – you feel very certain that you know what to do, what decision to make. And more often than not, you’re right.

 

Although we celebrate the rational process for being fact-based and scientific, the rational mind alone cannot possibly handle the dozens of small and large decisions we have to make almost every day. That’s why gut instincts are so important. And why we should never disregard them, no matter what is running through our rational brain.

 

But that doesn’t mean our gut instincts are always right. On the contrary, they can be very wrong. And if you act solely on them, you can get yourself into a world of trouble.

 

I’ve thought about why it is that gut instincts can be so wrong. Here’s what I think:

 

  1. An insufficiency of experience

 

There appears to be nothing in the emotional brain that classifies, tabulates, and measures our experiences in a scientific way. Instead, the process seems to be a combination of quantity (the number of similar experiences) and impact (the severity of the experiences). A single, traumatizing experience is sometimes enough to create and store a pattern template.

 

This has happened to me many times. The gut feeling is strong. I interpret that to mean it is trustworthy, and I make a confident and hasty decision accordingly. Then later, after discovering that the decision had been a mistake, I think about it and recognize that it had been based on just one or two strong experiences that were similar in some way but different in others. And I realize that had I put more thought into it, I might have made a different, or at least a more cautious, decision.

 

  1. The wrong inputs 

 

The emotional brain cannot distinguish between real experiences and imagined ones. Numerous studies have proven that if we imagine a false experience repeatedly, the “memory” is recorded as real.

 

You read in the newspaper that violent crime keeps rising. You read story after story about terrible things happening on the street, and you develop a gut feeling that it’s safer to stay inside. But then you find out that all those stories were exaggerations or outright fabrications. Your rational mind can allow for that, but your fear of going outside will remain until it is replaced with a sufficient number of safe outside experiences to lay a new pattern over the old one. (This is how exposure therapy works.)

 

  1. The unreliability of second-hand inputs 

 

I’m talking, here, about, for example, “knowing” that the ozone layer is disappearing and the oceans are rising… even though you are not a scientist and have never actually seen an ozone layer or measured the ocean tide.

 

As suggested above, second-hand experiences are just as emotionally powerful as experiences we’ve had personally. And, again, after they’ve settled in, the brain cannot distinguish between them.

 

  1. The perspective problem 

 

Take any experience – a ball game, a traffic accident, a business meeting – and ask four people what took place. Chances are, you’ll get four different answers. Based on each person’s perspective, different elements of the same experience may or may not stand out. This means that the pattern that is subconsciously recorded will be different for different people. And some of those patterns will be partially or even completely wrong.

 

Training Your Gut Instinct 

 

When gut instincts are wrong, they can prompt you to make decisions you will later regret. And yet, you don’t want to ignore them because they are a very efficient way to recognize and store patterns of important information.

 

So, what to do?

 

The good news is that we can teach ourselves to reduce these subconscious mistakes by examining our gut instincts rationally and then paying better attention to new experiences that arrive.

 

I’ve noticed that when I make a bad decision, I have a tendency to delete it from my memory. It’s embarrassing and uncomfortable to acknowledge it. And so, I stop thinking about it. After a while, I actually forget it. Even if someone reminds me of the mistake, I won’t remember it. I believe they’re mistaken, not me.

 

Another thing I may do (I think I don’t, but I probably do) is reinvent the facts that led to my decision. Like false memories generally, this works. You absolve yourself of the pain of remembering the truth and preserve the wrong pattern in your emotional brain.

 

That sort of post-facto rationalization will, if you keep telling yourself those lies, sink into your subconscious. And, as I said above, since the brain cannot discriminate between real experiences and imagined ones, you will carry around not only the false memories but also the faulty gut instincts.

 

The solution is to be careful about the patterns you internalize.

 

* When you make a mistake, resist the urge to rationalize it. Don’t allow yourself to make excuses to those affected by your decision – not only because it will be transparent to them and you’ll look the fool, but more importantly because you will be inserting bad data into your internal memory, where your gut instincts are formed.

 

* Make a commitment to  pay close and objective attention to your primary experiences and be skeptical of everything you read or hear about – especially those things that are told in story form.

 

As a marketing guy, I know this: If I want to sell you an insurance product, I have to stir up your uncertainties – even your fears. I can do that by creating little stories that make the point I want to make. So if I want to sell you accident insurance, for example, I’ll write 10 terrible tales about accident victims. By the time you’ve read three of them, you will have established an internal, subconscious pattern in favor of accident insurance.

 

* Favor primary experiences over secondary ones. Learn from what has actually happened to you, not from what has supposedly happened to others. When you make a mistake based on gut instinct, examine the thoughts and feelings that went into it. Remember that history is written by people who have stories to sell.

 

* Pay attention to the experiences that have a strong emotional impact on you. Be critical of your responses to them.  Ask others, when possible, for their opinions. What happened?  And why? Where did I go wrong?

 

The conclusions you draw from your actual, primary experiences are the most valuable resources you have. Make sure they are valid. If you do that, and treat secondary information very skeptically, your instinct for what to do in any situation will inevitably get better.

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This is a chapel that BB, one of my partners at Rancho Santana, built for the Rancho Santana community. He designed it himself. The style, as you can see, is very simple and mostly traditional. It’s quite beautiful, and sits on top of one of the higher hills on this side of the property, so you can see it from many vantage points.

 

Nicaragua is very Catholic. And there was some discussion of whether this should be a Catholic church, too. But my partner is not Catholic. I think he considers himself an Episcopalian, which, as I understand it, is one of the more ecumenical of the Christian religions. The decision was to make it non-denominational. But as MN, another partner who is Jewish, pointed out, if it’s got a cross on top, it’s not really non-denominational.

 

BB has been planning on building it almost since we first bought this land, 23 years ago. It was commissioned about three years ago and is barely a year old. But it’s already served the community well and frequently – for religious ceremonies, for weddings and baptisms, and for funerals. And just last week, it served as a refuge for more than a dozen families whose homes were flooded after the hurricane.

 

 

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My post today is about developing your gut instinct to help you become a more effective business leader. I’m sending it from our home in Nicaragua. As you may have heard, the country was battered by Iota. The east coast was destroyed by 150-mile-per-hour winds. The west coast, where we are, was devastated by flooding. Our family is usually here for the Thanksgiving week. Not this year because of you-know-what-19. So, it’s just me and K. And we’re busy working with FunLimon, our family “caridad” here, assisting in the many relief efforts going on right now to bring clean water, food, and other supplies to the local communities. It was a long day. Now we’re back home, having a sunset cocktail.

 

 

 

“Ideas pull the trigger, but instinct loads the gun.”  – Don Marquis

Head vs. Gut, Part I:

Why Intuition Beats Rationality in Making Good Wealth-Building Decisions 

 

I once read an article in the Harvard Business Review titled “When to Trust Your Gut.”

 

This is a subject I’ve spent some time thinking about. And my feeling has always been that experience-based gut instincts are at least as valuable as MBA-based analyses from the likes of Harvard, Wharton, or Yale.

 

I was surprised to see that this article supported my view.

 

The author, Alden M. Hayashi (senior editor of HBR when the article was published), says quite correctly that, in making good business and career decisions, it makes sense to rely on both reasoning and gut feelings.

 

“The higher up the corporate ladder people climb,” Hayashi says, “the more they’ll need well-honed business instincts.”

 

In lowlier positions, he argues, one should rely more on facts, figures, and established protocols. Instinct is still important, but when you’re new to a company you need to be careful. Those that hired you are alert for mistakes. To avoid costly mistakes, he advises, make sure your impulses align with the facts.

 

Middle managers that are new to an industry should be careful about shooting from the hip. By sharpening your pencils and following the rules,” he says, you’ll keep the bottom line black.

 

After you move up the ladder of corporate power, however, attention to detail becomes less important and gut instinct can help you make the game-changing decisions that will accelerate your career.

 

Hayashi looks to the late Ralph S. Larsen, former chairman and CEO of Johnson & Johnson, to explain why.

 

“Very often, people will do a brilliant job up through the middle-management levels, where it’s very heavily quantitative in terms of the decision-making,” Larsen says. “But then they reach senior management, where the problems get more complex and ambiguous, and we discover that their judgment or intuition is not what it should be. And when that happens, it’s a problem. It’s a big problem.”

 

Richard Abdoo, former chairman and CEO of Wisconsin Energy Corporation, agrees. He says that as business speeds up and decisions must happen faster, instinct is even more important.

 

Henry Mintzberg, professor of management at McGill University and longtime proponent of the utility of intuition, believes the subconscious mind is always processing things the conscious mind may not be aware of. A sense of revelation (the “Aha!” moment) occurs when the conscious mind finally learns something that the subconscious mind has already known.

 

I agree.

 

Decision-making at the higher levels of business cannot rely solely on rational thinking and logic. To make the best decisions, we must also call into play our emotional intelligence.

 

To explain how gut feelings work, Hayashi refers to Herbert A. Simon, a professor of psychology and computer science at Carnegie Mellon University.

 

Simon, who studied decision-making for decades, claims that gut feelings result from observing repeated patterns and rules. Emotional intelligence involves noticing, storing, and “chunking” such patterns so we can retrieve them instantly and automatically.

 

It’s been my experience running and consulting with dozens of growing companies over the years, that this is true.

 

It makes sense: The human mind has an amazing capacity to recognize and “remember” patterns. Much greater than our ability to remember and recall facts.

 

In chess, for example, Simon found that grandmasters are able to recognize and recall about 50,000 major patterns in the huge number of ways in which the various pieces can be arranged on a board.

 

How do they do it? How is it that some executives seem to have the superhuman ability to make good and profitable decisions?

 

It’s all about this mysterious process of recognizing and storing patterns. According to Hayashi, the experts say they do this while also “cross-indexing” them. That’s when our brains find patterns in one experience that correspond to patterns in other experiences and “tag” them for instant and automatic recall when we need them.

 

I – and just about every advertising writer I know – do this routinely. While watching commercials about a Rolex, we may notice a pattern in the pitch that is similar to a newspaper ad on vitamins and/or a radio spot on some financial scheme.

 

We sometimes recognize the patterns consciously. Very often, we don’t. But they are recorded somewhere in our gut.

 

And that’s why, if you want to become a better business leader and wealth builder, you should make your decisions carefully when you are beginning, but, as the years pass, begin to rely more on your gut.

 

Caveat: Sometimes gut instincts are wrong. How can you fix that? We’ll cover that tomorrow.

 

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Steinbeck: A Life in Letters

Edited by Elaine Steinbeck and Robert Wallsten

Paperback, 928 pages

Published April 1, 1989 by Penguin Books

 

John Steinbeck was an important writer and an interesting character. As noted on Amazon, he hated the telephone. So for him, “letter-writing was a preparation for work and a natural way for him to communicate his thoughts on people he liked and hated; on marriage, women, and children; on the condition of the world; and on his progress in learning his craft.”

 

I’ve been reading this collection of his letters, prompted by a review in “Brainpickings,” and I’m enjoying it. It opens with letters written during his early years in California, and closes with a 1968 note written in Sag Harbor, NY.

 

Here’s an excerpt from the book (selected by “Brainpickings”) on the topic of human nature:

 

“Speaking of the happy new year, I wonder if any year ever had less chance of being happy. It’s as though the whole race were indulging in a kind of species introversion – as though we looked inward on our neuroses. And the thing we see isn’t very pretty…. So we go into this happy new year, knowing that our species has learned nothing, can, as a race, learn nothing – that the experience of ten thousand years has made no impression on the instincts of the million years that preceded.”

 

Another excerpt:

 

“Not that I have lost any hope. All the goodness and the heroisms will rise up again, then be cut down again and rise up. It isn’t that the evil thing wins – it never will – but that it doesn’t die. I don’t know why we should expect it to. It seems fairly obvious that two sides of a mirror are required before one has a mirror, that two forces are necessary in man before he is man. I asked [the influential microbiologist] Paul de Kruif once if he would like to cure all disease and he said yes. Then I suggested that the man he loved and wanted to cure was a product of all his filth and disease and meanness, his hunger and cruelty. Cure those and you would have not man but an entirely new species you wouldn’t recognize and probably wouldn’t like.”

 

From The New York Times: “Surely his most interesting, plausibly his most memorable, and… arguably his best book.”

 

From Los Angeles Herald-Examiner: “The reader will discover as much about the making of a writer and the creative process as he will about Steinbeck. And that’s a lot.”

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Fargo (1996)

Written and directed by Joel Coen and Ethan Coen

Starring William H. Macy, Steve Buscemi, Harve Presnell, and Frances McDormand

 

On an impulse last week, I watched Fargo again – the 1996 movie, not the TV series. It was as good as I remembered.

Since then, I’ve been trying to figure out why I felt it was so good. Was it the plot? The acting? The direction? The photography?

 

All of that was great, but it was held together by the characterization.

 

The protagonist, the person that solves the crime, is played by the always superb Frances McDormand. Her character, Marge Gunderson, is a hugely pregnant local cop called to investigate three roadside murders in the snow. She’s a very ordinary woman, whose only superhero ability is an average intelligence (which sets her apart from her male colleagues) and a sort of “Gee-honey” personality that makes you wonder how she ever became a police officer. At night, safe at home with her balding, chubby husband Norm, she prefers to talk about her husband’s excruciatingly mundane hobby of painting Mallards than her own dangerous and challenging job.

 

The antagonist, Jerry, is an ingenuous car salesman and family man that desperately hopes to solve his financial problems by having his wife kidnapped and ransomed. Unintentionally, he is the true the precipitator of all the mayhem that follows. He is played brilliantly by William H Macy.

 

The kidnappers – two intensely comical criminal morons played by Steve Buscemi and Peter Stomare – provide both the comedy and the grizzle that make this film so unique.

 

And last but not least, there are two things that make everything else deliciously surreal: the “Minnesota nice” accent” enunciated wonderfully by McDormand and Macy, and Fargo itself – a snow-covered, small-town wilderness that provides the perfectly ironic background for this gruesome and increasingly horrifying game of dominoes. (I had forgotten, but the movie was written and directed by the Coen brothers, who gave us the equally great, genre-defying comical caper Raising Arizona.)

 

Interesting Fact: Not surprisingly, Fargo won numerous prestigious awards and was named by the American Film Institute as one of the 100 best American films in history. What is surprising is that it cost only $9 million to make. That’s actually hard to believe. It grossed over $60 million at the box office and has probably generated another $40 million in residuals and rights. Not bad.

 

From Entertainment Weekly: “An illuminating amalgam of emotion and thought.”

 

From Rotten Tomatoes: “Violent, quirky, and darkly funny, Fargo delivers an original crime story and a wonderful performance by McDormand.”

 

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3 Facts, 3 Words, 3 Thoughts 

 

THE FACTS 

* The Invention of the TV Dinner 

Like so many other life-improving inventions, the frozen TV dinner began as a mistake. 1n 1953, an employee of Swanson & Sons mistakenly ordered 260 tons of fresh turkey for the Thanksgiving holidays. This was way, way more than was needed. To get rid of the excess, salesman Gerry Thomas came up with a plan: They cooked the birds; ordered 5000 aluminum trays; filled them with turkey, mashed potatoes, and peas; and froze the whole thing. It saved the day. The following year Swanson sold 10 million frozen TV turkey trays at 98 cents each – a windfall of $9.8 million (over $94 million today)!

* The Best Kind of Investor 

In 2014, the Fidelity Mutual Funds group looked at records of its investors by age, sex, and account size to determine which ones had made the most money. They found that the only thing the best performers had in common was that they were all dead – and many of them had been dead for decades – though their accounts had not yet been closed. In other words, the best investment strategy seemed to be: Do nothing.

* The First Telephone Book 

In 1878, two years after Bell introduced the telephone to the public, the New Haven Telephone Company published a directory of its subscribers – a cardboard sheet with the names of 50 people and businesses that owned phones. It had no phone numbers, because people resisted the idea of dialing the numbers themselves. They much preferred talking to the company’s switchboard operator and having them connect the call. A copy of this directory sold in 2008 for $170,500.

 

THE WORDS 

* mien (noun) 

Mien (MEEN) is a person’s look or manner, especially one that indicates their character or mood.

Example: “Falsehood always endeavors to copy the mien and attitude of truth.” – Samuel Johnson

* bonhomie (noun) 

Bonhomie (bahn-uh-ME) – from the French for good (bon) + man (homme) – is geniality; cheerful friendliness.

Example: “John Stuart Mill, / By a mighty effort of will, / Overcame his natural bonhomie / And wrote ‘Principles of Political Economy.’” – Edmund Clerihew Bentley

* kawaii (noun or adjective) 

Kawaii (kuh-WHY or kuh-why-EE) – which roughly translates as lovable or adorable – is the Japanese pop culture of celebrating cuteness. As an adjective, the word can be associated with just about anything that is endearing, shy, and childlike. (Think “Hello Kitty” – perhaps the most famous kawaii character.)

Example (from Avril Lavigne’s song “Hello Kitty”):

Min’na saiko arigato, k-k-k-kawaii! (Thank you everyone, cute!)
K-k-k-kawaii.
Mom’s not home tonight
So we can roll around, have a pillow fight…

 

 THE THOUGHTS

(from Michael Masterson)  

* “You can’t be knowledgeable about everything. Choose what you want to know and what you are willing to be ignorant about. I choose to be ignorant about sports, because it seems trivial. And music, because I don’t think knowledge enhances my experience of it.”

 

* “In marriage and other important relationships, politeness is at least as important as passion.”

 

* “Having without sharing is having less than half.”

 

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 “Management is about arranging and telling. Leadership is about nurturing and enhancing.” – Tom Peters

 

Cultivating the “Super” in “Superstars”: the Handful of Employees That Will Make Your Business Soar 

Yes, every one of your employees is important. In some way, every one of the people that work for you – from the rank-and-file on up – contributes to your bottom line.

But there is one group – a very small group – that can do what the others can’t do: generate 80% of your sales, wring out 80% of your profits, and then grow those profits over time.

I have gotten into the habit of calling these people superstars, but I should probably call them something else. Maybe something like “phenoms,” because besides being so remarkable in themselves, they are very rare.

Not Pareto Principle rare. Not just one out of five of your employees. It’s more like one out of 10, if you are lucky. Even one out of 20.

You already know who these people are. (They know it, too.)

* They arrive early and stay late. And they work at home.

* They almost never take a day off.

* They don’t consider their work to be a job. They consider it to be a career.

* They are not afraid of new ideas. They welcome them.

* They take responsibility for any problems that crop up under their watch, even if they are not to blame.

But what makes superstars not just valuable but invaluable is that they are not only great at what they do, they are eager to take on as much additional work as you can give them. Whether it is developing successful new products, creating additional sales, or managing profits, superstars will eventually do it better than you can… and take some of your leadership burden on their shoulders.

And that’s why losing a superstar is like losing a limb. It is a disaster you want to avoid at all costs.

So how do you attract and nurture – and keep – superstars? What are the things they want and need?

 

  1. Space 

First and foremost, they need the freedom to do their job as they see fit. You can and should give them the tools they need to do their work. And you should give them your best advice. But give them room to fail, too – quickly and in small ways – so they can learn (and teach their employees) from their mistakes.

 

  1. Autonomy 

In a similar vein, superstars need the authority to get their job done without being micromanaged. They should not have to ask for your okay on every minor decision. Agree on the sort of reporting and feedback that you both feel comfortable with, with the understanding that you will be asking for less and less as they become more and more accomplished.

 

  1. Challenge 

The main thing that superstars need is big and constant challenges – and it is in their nature to come up with most of them on their own. Give them free rein to learn about any areas of the business that interest them – and welcome any suggestions they may have.

 

  1. Fair Compensation 

Superstars are not primarily motivated by money – but you won’t hold onto them if you pay them a nickel less than what they are worth.

How much is that?

I have a few rules that I follow: Their base pay must be equal to or higher than what others in their position get. In addition, they should have some sort of incentive pay based on some mutually agreeable objectives. And if they end up running an entire offshoot of the business for you, they should get some sort of shadow equity.

Just never lose sight of what’s really important to them: the satisfaction of growing and improving the business.

 

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“The most beautiful things are not associated with money; they are memories and moments. If you don’t celebrate those, they can pass you by.” – Alek Wek

 

The Moments I Love 

Midnight at the Swamp House. Starless sky. Rippling breeze on the lake. Just me, my Casa Amigos, and my work.

Ping. It’s from Judith, re an essay I sent in this morning. I make the revision and send it back to her, wondering what she’s doing, working at this hour.

Ping again. It’s from Matt, re a possible acquisition we discussed this afternoon. I answer it, adding, “What are you doing, working at this hour?”

I love that!

Other moments I love:

* Every time one of my boys calls me for advice.

 

* When BB and I say the same thing to our partners in each of our very different ways.

 

* Any time my weight drops below 210 pounds.

 

* Yes, that first cup of coffee in the morning.

 

* Anytime I ask for forgiveness and get it.

 

* My Sunday routine: Instead of 2 hours of exercise, doing the NYT crossword while smoking a Padron Aniversario.

 

* When the conversation turns to anything remotely philosophical, including discussions that start with, “Isn’t it fucked up when…?”

 

* When Amaru says, “I’m on it, boss!”

 

* When I score even a single point on any of my Jiu Jitsu instructors.

 

* Every time Myles smiles a certain way when I’m pushing an idea. I know that means the next day he’ll come back with an improved version of it.

 

* When I see my nieces and nephews together, treating one another like beloved brothers and sisters.

 

* When someone I’m mentoring gets it and I know he’ll forever be operating on a higher level.

 

* Anytime I give someone something – money, time, attention, advice – and it actually helps them, without negative side effects.

 

* Every time I see my friends looking at K and thinking, “I hope Mark realizes how lucky he is.”

 

* Almost every time I learn something new.

 

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A Jolt of Pure Joy! 

Look at this – a film of a snowball fight shot in 1897 in Lyon by the Lumière brothers…

The Lumière brothers are considered to be pioneers in film. This one spans less than a minute, but it’s a tempest of cultural anthropology, giving the viewer an insight into the French that one wouldn’t get from sitting at a Paris cafe.

Here is the text that accompanies the clip, written beautifully by Sam Anderson:

“If you watch the snowball fight over and over, as I will do for the rest of my life, certain characters begin to stand out.

“Down in the bottom-left corner, a thick man with a strong black mustache fires a cheap shot: a wild fastball, from point-blank range, that barely misses its intended target, a slim man who is busy looking the other way. The slim man turns, cocks his left arm, and wallops the big man on his thigh.

“From that point forward, these two are locked in savage, jolly combat. They reload and pelt each other multiple times, until finally – overtaken, perhaps, by the homosocial energy crackling between them – the big man staggers forward and lunges to tackle the slim man like a bear attacking a deer. But once again he misses: The slim man sidesteps and, grinning, shoves the big man into the snow. The big man pops back up, like a mustachioed snow-zombie, and starts pelting the slim man again from behind.”

Anderson’s favorite character, whom he calls the “protagonist,” is the man in in the bowler hat and long coat.

“He  looks as if he has just stepped out of a bank meeting, and yet he abandons himself to this childish street warfare with eager glee.

“While the other fighters stand more or less rooted in place, the man in the bowler covers a surprising amount of ground – he is a free agent, prancing around with lumbering lightness, entering and exiting clusters of people, galloping across the road, following his bliss, attacking willy-nilly with a funky sidearm toss. He seems to take as many shots as he gives, and by the end of the film his black coat is thoroughly dusted with white; you can see the snowballs’ impact blasts as clearly as bullet holes.

“And then there is the bicycle. This is the peak moment of brutality, when the whole group loses its collective goddamn mind. Right from the start, you can see the cyclist coming: a small figure, growing larger every second, gliding smoothly on an angle toward the fray. Before he even reaches the crowd, he starts to take distant fire. And yet he is determined to ride on. When he arrives, all the warring factions turn to unite against him, unleashing a wickedly targeted cyclone. The cyclist takes hard shots to the arm, the face, the back, the neck. Still he pedals forward, hunching his back, spinning his long legs – a stoic hero, intent on gliding through the violence, determined to reach the safety of the other side.

“His legs fly up in the air; his hat lands upside down in the snow. Before he can even get up, the cyclist is pelted again, and someone tries to steal his bike – but the cyclist stands and rips it away, then hops back on, abandoning his hat, retreating, pedaling off the way he came, taking powdery sniper fire as he goes. It is an object lesson in futility, in noble intentions thwarted – one man’s vision destroyed by the sudden madness of a crowd.

“Off in the middle distance, two men stand near a street lamp, watching the mayhem, never moving, like Beckett characters, thinking who knows what.

“On an intellectual level,” Anderson says, “we all understand that historical people were basically just like us…. They lived, as we do, in the throbbing nerve-pocket of the now. They were anxious and unsure, bored and silly. Nothing that would happen in their lifetimes had happened yet. The ocean of time was crashing fresh waves, nonstop, against the rocks of their days. And like us they stood there, gasping in the cold spray, wondering what people of the past were like.”

 

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