It's fun to watch this documentary while also reading "The Journalist and the Murderer" on the side. Janet Malcolm reminds us, in "Journalist and Murderer," that there are generally multiple sides to any one story. So, though it's easy to think of Elizabeth Holmes as Satan, it's also possible that Holmes has a version of the story that differs from the filmmaker's version.
That said, Holmes hasn't offered her version of the story. The director of "The Inventor" went to her, and she led him on for five hours, and then she turned him down. He says he thinks she mainly wanted to tease out the tone, or possible tone, of the documentary--and that she never had any intention of helping. He also says that she continues to blame her own downfall on "sexism." (In other words, she seems unwilling to examine herself and her behavior. At least for now.)
Malcolm also reminds the reader that real people are different from great fictional characters. Great fictional characters tend to be larger than life; there's a sense of clear, sharply-defined "brushstrokes." By contrast, actual people, in actual life, tend to be a garbled mess. They are weighed down by mixed motives. They are strangers even to themselves. They are inarticulate. They are even uninteresting. When we encounter a character in non-fiction who can't tell a vivid story, there is sometimes an urge to say, "That's a sociopath! That's an unfeeling automaton!" But how many of us can really explain ourselves, and provide vivid stories, on the spot?
Elizabeth Holmes, at one point, is asked to provide a "secret" to her interviewer. She is stumped; she can't provide a secret. Is this a sign that she is sinister--that she is deliberately duping us? Or is she maybe just an average shmoe who hasn't given a great deal of thought to her secrets, to her own inner life? How many of us could produce an exciting secret, for an interviewer, on the spot?
To me, the hero of "The Inventor," a young whistleblower named Tyler, is a more satisfying protagonist than Holmes. Tyler dreamed of a difficult goal, and then he pursued the goal, despite major obstacles. (One obstacle was his own grandfather, one of the most powerful men in the area, and a real Elizabeth Holmes fan, at least for a while.) Tyler chose a difficult road over personal comfort; he was acting in the interest of others, and not merely protecting himself. This makes him somewhat extraordinary. I'd be curious to read his memoir, if he ever produces one.
Well, that's all I have to say about "The Inventor" for now. I loved the movie, and I thought it was actually more skillful than "Bad Blood," in the sense that it gave us clues to Elizabeth Holmes's possible inner life. (It suggested that she maybe could rationalize her own behavior. After all, Thomas Edison told lies. And if bad behavior is in the service of a grandiose, world-enhancing cause, then it can easily start to seem like something different from bad behavior. And maybe if you're young and pampered, and you've limited yourself to four hours of sleep per night, you can start to lose your mind.)
I hope Elizabeth Holmes changes. I hope there starts to be some evidence of internal struggle within her. I'm weirdly moved by her troubling story.
That said, Holmes hasn't offered her version of the story. The director of "The Inventor" went to her, and she led him on for five hours, and then she turned him down. He says he thinks she mainly wanted to tease out the tone, or possible tone, of the documentary--and that she never had any intention of helping. He also says that she continues to blame her own downfall on "sexism." (In other words, she seems unwilling to examine herself and her behavior. At least for now.)
Malcolm also reminds the reader that real people are different from great fictional characters. Great fictional characters tend to be larger than life; there's a sense of clear, sharply-defined "brushstrokes." By contrast, actual people, in actual life, tend to be a garbled mess. They are weighed down by mixed motives. They are strangers even to themselves. They are inarticulate. They are even uninteresting. When we encounter a character in non-fiction who can't tell a vivid story, there is sometimes an urge to say, "That's a sociopath! That's an unfeeling automaton!" But how many of us can really explain ourselves, and provide vivid stories, on the spot?
Elizabeth Holmes, at one point, is asked to provide a "secret" to her interviewer. She is stumped; she can't provide a secret. Is this a sign that she is sinister--that she is deliberately duping us? Or is she maybe just an average shmoe who hasn't given a great deal of thought to her secrets, to her own inner life? How many of us could produce an exciting secret, for an interviewer, on the spot?
To me, the hero of "The Inventor," a young whistleblower named Tyler, is a more satisfying protagonist than Holmes. Tyler dreamed of a difficult goal, and then he pursued the goal, despite major obstacles. (One obstacle was his own grandfather, one of the most powerful men in the area, and a real Elizabeth Holmes fan, at least for a while.) Tyler chose a difficult road over personal comfort; he was acting in the interest of others, and not merely protecting himself. This makes him somewhat extraordinary. I'd be curious to read his memoir, if he ever produces one.
Well, that's all I have to say about "The Inventor" for now. I loved the movie, and I thought it was actually more skillful than "Bad Blood," in the sense that it gave us clues to Elizabeth Holmes's possible inner life. (It suggested that she maybe could rationalize her own behavior. After all, Thomas Edison told lies. And if bad behavior is in the service of a grandiose, world-enhancing cause, then it can easily start to seem like something different from bad behavior. And maybe if you're young and pampered, and you've limited yourself to four hours of sleep per night, you can start to lose your mind.)
I hope Elizabeth Holmes changes. I hope there starts to be some evidence of internal struggle within her. I'm weirdly moved by her troubling story.
Comments
Post a Comment