Entertainment
How California's worst fire season — so far — became a writer's most powerful metaphor
On the Shelf
The Last Fire Season
By Manjula Martin
Pantheon: 352 pages, $29
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By common measures, Manjula Martin is not a hopeful person. “In the current discussion of climate change,” she said, “‘hope’ is often used as a shorthand for returning to normal, otherwise known as business as usual.”
The sentiment pervades the writer’s new memoir, “The Last Fire Season,” but it prompts an important question, which I brought up during a video chat with Martin in late December: Why would people who feel hopeless about climate change still be motivated to do anything about it?
“I don’t actually believe there’s no hope for continued human existence, but if that’s true, then it’s even more important that we take care of each other and respect the land,” Martin says. A former editor of Zoetrope magazine, she co-wrote the 2019 horticultural guide “Fruit Trees for Every Garden” — hardly the product of a fatalist. She turns the question around: “That process of learning to give and take real care is actually the best chance we have of constructing real hope.”
But then she adds, “If mutual care isn’t working for you either, maybe try anger?”
This interplay of care and anger is partly what makes “The Last Fire Season” riveting. It is both a chronicle and a handbook of the struggle to fight the distortion of grief into despair.
The fire season of the title took place in 2020, a year of catastrophes for Martin, California and the world. COVID-19 filled hospitals and morgues and led to widespread isolation, U.S. democracy was challenged as never before and 58,258 forest fires nationwide burned more than 10 million acres, including 4.3 million in California. Martin, who grew up in Santa Cruz, lives two hours north of San Francisco in a heavily forested part of Sonoma County.
One night that August, she and her partner witnessed a furious storm. “The blades of electricity bisected the air,” Martin writes in the book. “My insides were set abuzz. My lungs contracted like they’d just hit cold water; my jaw compacted into itself; every muscle in my pelvis … felt as though it had been turned to wood. Somewhere inside my brain every synapse fired, and I was thrust into a whorl of anxiety: go, go, go.”
“The response to disaster can’t be to do the exact same thing all over again,” says Manjula Martin, author of the new memoir “The Last Fire Season.”
(Manjula Martin)
They decided to evacuate a few days later, as the rapidly developing Lightning complex fire was drawing near. The coastal redwoods that towered over her house had never seemed so vulnerable — and neither had she.
Packed in her “go bag” was an ample supply of pain medication. A dislodged IUD had led to a hysterectomy and other surgeries, leaving Martin with chronic, debilitating pain. She was learning to live in a changing, damaged body, just as the forest over her head was adapting its own series of catastrophes. As a writer, she loves embracing that metaphor, along with its contradictions.
“I think the ghost of Susan Sontag is always looking over my shoulder when I talk about my health crisis and compare it to the wildfire crisis,” she says with a laugh, in reference to Sontag’s famous excoriation of “Illness as Metaphor.” But the parallels resonated in her life.
“In a practical way, an everyday life kind of way, I found that I had skills that I didn’t know I had because of my health crisis,” she adds. “Those skills included understanding that things are never gonna be the same. And that sucks. But it also opens up all these interesting, weird … nonconventional ways of thinking and interacting with each other and with the land.”
Like the scorched forests around her home, she had also been harmed by companies “who are OK with a certain margin of error in their product.” At the same time, “accidents are accidents. They’re not always someone’s fault. But that was really the key to connecting my personal experience of harm with these larger systems that are very intricately linked to climate change.”
What opened her up to the parallels, Martin says, was gardening. “Once I started gardening as I was recovering from my surgeries — there’s that very cliché thing of putting your hands in dirt — but that cliché comes from truth. It wasn’t that feeling of life cycles and generation and renewal necessarily. It was the pleasure.” It was also the stark, clarifying push-and-pull with nature: “You do things that are harmful, like cutting things, and the plants push back, and then you have to wait a year to find out what’s gonna happen.”
Waiting for a body or a forest to heal involves an analogous kind of patience. But if Martin had simply dropped her metaphor and left it at that, her memoir would be much shorter and less interesting. Instead, the author is quick to acknowledge the flaws and contradictions in such comparisons. Gardening, for one, is a privilege, and she is well aware of the ways economics, race and historical forces have influenced her relationship with nature.
The stewardship of the land by California’s Indigenous people included “good fire,” the types of prescribed burns increasingly recognized as a key to preventing massive firestorms. In recent years, many tribal fire experts have been asked to fix the forests.
But Martin says the approach needs to be cooperative and collaborative. Her book quotes Margo Robbins, a Yurok fire expert: “Native people can’t do it on their own … we don’t own that much of the land, for one thing.”
“I think it’s especially the responsibility of those who have carried out these harmful actions to make reparations,” Martin tells me, “both to the land and its original inhabitants. And it’s the responsibility of all who benefit from these harms to ensure that happens. I include myself in that group, as a white property owner who is a direct beneficiary of the colonization of the land where I live.”
This is one reason that, despite the fact that 2020 was definitely not the last fire season, Martin and her partner are staying put. “What you have to do is learn to adjust and live in the new normal as it will be,” she says.
Just don’t attach a hashtag to her actions: “In some neighborhoods, you’ll see a lot of signs that say ‘Thank you, firefighters.’ I don’t fault those emotions. They’re very real. But it’s what I call ‘hashtag hope.’ The response to disaster [can’t] be to do the exact same thing all over again.”
Martin understands that terms like “new normal” might feel like defeat — as toothless in its way as the dreaded word hope. In the book, however, she draws inspiration from eco-psychologist Joanna Macy, who argues that despair opens us up possibilities for change. Martin’s body and her environment have taught her a lot about despair, but also about adaptation.
As we finish our chat, Martin asks me to stay on the line while she moves outside. “They’re babies,” she says, gesturing to the hundred-year-old redwoods that tower over her lawn. “I used to wonder why, when it’s windy, trees don’t just instantly fall down, they’re so tall,” she says. “And I realized it’s because they’re alive. The same way a person standing upright doesn’t fall down — they’re alive. They dance.”
Berry writes for a number of publications and tweets @BerryFLW.
- PRESSURE
- Starring: Brendan Fraser, Andrew Scott and Kerry Condon
- Directed by: Anthony Maras
- Rated: R
- Running time: 1 hr 40 mins
- Focus Features
Our score: 3.5 out of 5
On the most recent episode of our “Back in the Day” podcast the crew and I took a look at some of the greatest war movies ever made. In doing my research I learned that there have been more then 5,000 feature films dealing with World War II alone. 5,000!! Some of them are regarded as some of the best films ever made (The Best Years of Our Lives, Patton, Schindler’s List, Saving Private Ryan) while others I’d never seen. As Memorial Day rolls along this year we are treated to another one: Pressure.
The film opens on the aftermath of what can only be called a horrible tragedy. Overlooking the carnage, General Dwight D. Eisenhower (Fraser) can only curse.
Jump ahead six months where we meet British meteorologist James Stagg (Scott). Awaiting the birth of his child, he is summoned to meet with Eisenhower and his staff to forecast the weather conditions that will be taking place during an operation they are calling “D-Day.” Stagg continually butts heads with Colonel Krick (Chris Messina), whose method of predicting future weather from past events is not a practice Stagg embraces. The two continually clash, much to the chagrin of an increasingly agitated Eisenhower. Doing her best to keep the peace is Lieutenant Kay Summersby (Condon), Eisenhower’s aide and buffer. It’s not an easy job.
Well presented with an outstanding attention to detail, Pressure could be looked at as the prequel to Saving Private Ryan, which opens with the invasion of Normandy, while this film looks at the events leading up to that day. The cast is strong, with Fraser at his best when going head to head with British General Bernard Montgomery (Damian Lewis), whose “gung – ho” attitude robs Ike the wrong way. It doesn’t help that “Monty” keeps referencing that, unlike others, he has battlefield experience. He also throws “Exercise Tiger,” easily Eisenhower’s worse military chapter, out when it suits him. (NOTE: For those unaware, Exercise Tiger was basically a practice run for D-Day, with young soldiers taking place in a military exercise. However, due to poor communications, live ammunition was used and nearly 1,000 soldiers and seamen were killed.)
The film has it’s dramatic moments but it’s also anti-climactic because, while they continually stress that the invasion will take place on June 5th, anyone with any knowledge of history knows D-Day was June 6th. So when Ike asks if everything is good for June 5th, you want to shake your head and tell him “no, sir.”
That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy the film. I did. When I was born, Eisenhower was president – JFK would be elected two months later. And it was a genuine treat to be sitting in the theatre with some of Eisenhower’s great grandchildren. It lent a nice historical aspect to the screening.
On a scale of zero fo five, Pressure receives ★★★ ½
Entertainment
Olivia Rodrigo’s babydoll dress is for the punks, not the freaks who ‘normalize pedophilia’
Some are calling the controversy over Olivia Rodrigo’s recent outfit choices babydoll-dress-gate, Olivia Rodrigo calls it “weird.”
The dress debacle kicked up in early May when Rodrigo released the music video for “Drop Dead,” in which she runs through the Palace of Versailles wearing a pink-and-blue ruffled babydoll set while singing about the intensity of a crush. Then on May 8, she wore a cottage-core pink-and-white floral babydoll dress with knee-high Dr. Martens during a live performance in Barcelona.
Rodrigo was drawing from subversive feminist and punk fashion of yore, but internet critics were quick to slam the “deja vu” singer, saying the ensemble was sexualizing child-like imagery. In an hour-and-a-half interview with the New York Times Popcast that dropped on Thursday, Rodrigo staunchly defended the dress and called the criticism disturbing.
“I have worn outfits that are maybe revealing on stage, like I’ve been on stage in a sparkly bra and little shorts — which is my right — that’s fun,” she said. “I felt cool and comfortable in that, and that wasn’t inappropriate, but me fully covered up in a dress that people deemed to be, like, childlike was inappropriate, and I think it shows how we really normalize pedophilia in our culture.”
Rodrigo further decried the criticism as rhetoric that girls are fed from a young age, “which is ‘don’t wear that, because then a man is going to sexualize your body, and it’s your fault’ — it’s so weird.”
Rodrigo said she didn’t think she looked “sexy” in the babydoll dress; she was going for a cool look à la Kathleen Hannah or like Courtney Love, musicians whom the pop star said are her heroes. Love appeared to defend Rodrigo on social media by resharing posts defending the singer-songwriter in since-expired Instagram stories.
“I just think if we start dressing in a way that’s like, ‘Oh, I don’t want some f— freak to think that I am sexy like a baby’ or some crazy thing like that, I think it’s losing the plot a little bit,” she said. “I’m very protective of younger women and girls, and I don’t ever want them to be fed that rhetoric. You shouldn’t be responsible for some guy sexualizing you in a way that was never your intention.”
Rodrigo’s third studio album, “You Seem Pretty Sad for a Girl So in Love,” which features hit singles “Drop Dead” and “The Cure,” will be released June 12.
The idea of a young, aspiring filmmaker running around their backyard with a low-quality camera and a gaggle of friends roped into performing in their latest project is nothing new. In fact, it has been a staple of popular culture for decades. That is what makes Kane Parsons’ debut online short, The Backrooms (Found Footage), especially notable. When it was released in 2022, it felt uniquely connected to that long-standing piece of American cinematic mythology.
The short opens with a group of kids on set, preparing to shoot another take for what is clearly a makeshift, shoestring-budget horror project. Then, the camera operator unexpectedly slips into another reality of sorts: a liminal space hidden beneath the ground where the crew was filming. As the story transitions from the real world into the “backrooms,” Parsons’ approach also evolves, moving beyond traditional filmmaking into something digitally generated rather than physically captured by a camera.
In hindsight, it plays as an incredibly loaded opening statement from the young filmmaker. The king is dead, long live the king. The era of kids running around their backyards trying to imitate the aesthetics of professional filmmaking has given way to a new generation embracing the possibilities and limitations of entirely different tools, such as Blender. Now, Parsons has partnered with A24 to bring that vision of horror’s future to the big screen with his debut feature film, Backrooms.
The result, while occasionally uneven, feels like something genuinely significant. It is a film that suggests the beginning of a new chapter for the horror genre, one shaped by creators who grew up with digital tools, internet culture, and a completely different understanding of what filmmaking can be.
TOP FIVE THINGS ABOUT “BACKROOMS”
5. Assured Direction
Kane Parsons is a young man, but he’s someone who has been telling stories within this exact narrative and tonal space for years now. That level of clarity and concentration is demonstrated in his debut film in spades. Working with cinematographer Jeremy Cox and editor Greg Ng (both of whom worked on Osgood Perkins’ films Longlegs and The Monkey), Parsons creates a visual language that often feels immersive and claustrophobic in equal measure.
The use of wide-angle lenses throughout is a great choice that serves to both accentuate the off-kilter nature of this world and showcase even more of production designer Danny Vermette’s remarkable work. Altogether, it does not feel like a film made by a novice, but rather one made by someone who is confident and in control of their cinematic craft. That is a testament to Parsons’ talents as a director.
4. A Very Good Script
The script for Backrooms, written by Will Soodik and based on the stories originated by Parsons and his YouTube body of work, is articulate, thoughtful, and incredibly well-constructed. As audiences have seen time and again with earlier attempts like Slender Man and Five Nights at Freddy’s, it is not exactly easy to translate what makes a lo-fi analog horror concept work in the digital world to the big screen without losing what makes it special.
But Soodik’s writing manages to let Backrooms have its cake and eat it too, maintaining many of the aesthetic and tonal choices that made those short films work so well while also delivering a much more traditional and compelling character-driven drama that ties everything together. For the first act and a half of the film, I was genuinely shocked by how well it managed to maintain this precarious balance. However, it was not quite meant to last…
3. Strong First Half, Lackluster Back Half
If I have one real critique of Backrooms, it is that the stellar first hour-plus of the film is severely bogged down by its final stretch. Without spoiling things, there’s a moment in the film where the baton is passed from one perspective to another, and while this initially seems to hold a great deal of potential, it ultimately leaves things feeling underdeveloped and uneven during the final stretch.
It also falls into the trap of attempting to explain a bit too much about the otherworldly horrors of the Backrooms in a way that only serves to deflate the terror-inducing awe of the concept while also raising even more questions. There are also some character choices that feel jarring and underbaked, making the whole thing ring just a little hollow by the end.
2. That Mid-film Setpiece
Just before that aforementioned perspective switch, audiences are treated to what has to be considered the centerpiece of the entire film: an extended set piece shot entirely in a found-footage style as a trio of characters enters the Backrooms. Everything about this sequence works, from the way the film builds toward it to the performances and the eloquent, highly effective blocking. All of these elements come together to create what is easily the strongest section of the film.
This is Parsons truly operating in his element, and it absolutely shows. The film is worth seeing on the biggest screen possible for this tour-de-force sequence alone.
1. Blending Formats
As the latest in a growing line of online content creators making the leap to the big screen with aplomb, Parsons’ Backrooms is unique in that it feels actively engaged in conversation with both present-day audiences and decades of horror influences. The film is modern in its conventions and the way it communicates with viewers, yet it is set in the ’90s and draws inspiration from projects such as The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Eraserhead, The Blair Witch Project, and even the more recent Skinamarink.
The result is a film that feels as though it is building upon both the foundations of the horror genre as a whole and the foundations of Parsons’ online work. Because of that, Backrooms is able to reach some genuinely impressive heights.
GRADE
(B-)
Kane Parsons’ Backrooms is an incredibly taut, suspenseful, and dread-inducing debut feature that promises great things from the young filmmaker for years to come. If the film had managed to maintain the remarkable balancing act it nearly perfects during its opening hour or so, it would have been a solid A in my book. As it stands, the final half-hour bogs things down and gums up the works a bit, but it is nowhere near enough to counteract all of the greatness the first half achieves.
Backrooms is occasionally great and consistently solid, more than deserving of every bit of the success and attention it is receiving.
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