The Unloved, Part 136: Ironweed

This week, my friend Bridget Mallon passed away in her sleep at the age of 34. The country’s been going to hell in a hurry, but there’s always a way for things to get worse, and the loss of one of my best friends was that. At times like this, you forget that things can get better, let alone that they will, because it just seems implausible that the world stays this desperate and terrible forever.

But I wanted to look at the moon from the gutter for a moment, so here’s a look at an artist that never gave up on people (Héctor Babenco), and my favourite of his works of hard-won empathy (1987’s “Ironweed”). We could all use some. The companionship between Meryl Streep and Jack Nicholson reminds me a bit of what Bridget and I shared over the years, a kind of boozy solidarity over worsening fortunes, but even in that, we were privileged. We were indoors, we were eating, we knew we could pick up the phone and call each other. The world is a disgrace. Having a friend can make it seem ok. Rest in peace.