Netflix and Hill
– a perspective from Noah Buck
The overpopulated steam room distilled my weekend into a wimpy puddle of sweat, fireball, and Korean grape juice—but I still had a six pack of Sac-Sac sitting by my grey bean bag when I got back (Sac-Sac is a brand of Korean grape juice). Reason being, I like to sit on my grey bean bag after a long weekend, drinking Korean juice, eating ramen and watching movies. I guess it’s a mini break to look forward to, as I was eager to watch the Noah Bambauch film Marriage Story which had just come out on Netflix, the streaming service platform you go to when you’re trying to “chill.” But that night I had no intentions of “chilling,” at least not with anyone within a 20 mile radius, besides my roommate who was busy being infected by TikTok. I just wanted something safe and porcelain like the toilets on the third floor of Talley or something pleasantly surprising like the chocolate cake at Fountain. I also figured that if I could spend upwards of two hours perpetuating my loneliness on Tinder, then I could damn well spend two hours watching a movie (or “film” for the guys who buy records at Urban Outfitters). So around 7 p.m. on an unproductive Sunday night, I sat down on my grey bean bag and watched Marriage Story on Netflix. I remember letting out a few masculine/testosterone fueled grunts to counteract the neurons shooting up my tear ducts. To keep it brief, Marriage Story was like fireball mixed with Korean grape juice because it fucked me up, but in a good way that had me pondering my existence the morning after. To my surprise, the movie put me in the old Asics of my father and the classic Nikes of my mom. And let me tell you——the ground beneath their shoes hurt like Johnny Cash and Dwight Howard at the free throw line. Maybe their load was heavier than I thought and maybe I was emotionally connected to their marital experiences whether I liked it or not. Just to be clear, I’m not the goon who gets foggy eyed or has an existential crisis every time he sees Toy Story 3, but I’ll always get wrapped up in a good movie or song. Sometimes I forget I’m on the 9th floor of Hill as I gyrate my head to “Trouble” by Cage The Elephant or “Saint Pablo” by Kanye West. Within the chamber of my mind, Kanye and Matt Shultz’s tired voices echo my own voice, as well as the many other voices silenced by Hill’s 9th floor‘shut-the-fuckup policy’ and in a way we form a new voice, one more sure of itself. It’s sort of the same deal when I’m running my ass off on Hillsborough like I’m in some important Nike commercial. During the final stretch of my one mile run, when my lungs revolt and I regret eating at Clark for dinner, I turn on “Saint Pablo” and picture a World War II soldier running from an explosion, Lebron running on a fastbreak, and a random bald guy running the last leg of a marathon——and I sprint like a motherfucker because their combined determination gives me new strength to finish. Kanye and CTE give me the confidence to gyrate semi-freely. Marriage Story gave me some insight on my parents’ relationship. My ‘life perspective’ body count would be a lot lower if it wasn’t for Netflix and Hill.
Noah is a freshman majoring in human biology and a Subvolo writer.