Well, we will be screening the 2nd episode of “Courage, New Hampshire” tonight and I took a little insomnia time last night to watch J.C. Chandor’s financial suspense film, Margin Call.

As pure story, it’s very, very tight stuff.  A risk analyst at a major investment bank discovers something very scary in the CDOs (Collateralized debt obligations) the firm was trading at great profit.    He concludes the firm, (a century old bank with billions of assets) would be completely wiped out by even a small reduction in demand.  He tells his boss at 11 in the evening.  His boss tells his boss at 1 in the morning.  His boss tells his boss and his boss tells his boss, and pretty soon the CEO himself is using the corporate helicopter to land on top of the building at two in the morning.

Hierarchies are fascinating.   During the helicopter scene, I was actually expecting no less than the treasury secretary or the chairman of the joint chiefs.

Anyway, it works as a story.   Riveting, as they say.

But I do get a kick out of something precious I see in most films about the corporate world.   The story includes a mass firing scene, where “80% of the floor” traders are terminated at once.   (It seemed like odd math to me.  There appeared to be about 30 traders left, which would have meant that the floor had 150 traders at one time;  how do 120 guys depart and leave no empty desks?)

Well, as the story goes on, and the systemic problem becomes apparent, the remaining leadership lament the sort of personal havoc that has just been wrought.   The audience isn’t just invited to grieve at the loss of employment, but to see it as a kind of systemic malevolence, a cruel instability built into the system.    Somehow, somewhere, there is a peaceful Edenic world where everyone is fed and no one ever has to worry about losing their career– which is really to say, somewhere there is a well-stocked kitchen where the teenagers can watch HBO and drink beer, forever, without mom and dad ever coming home.

I’m always amazed that anyone who has ever worked in the film industry can just swallow this stuff.   If you’ve ever been around a feature film production, you know that literally everyone who works on the project has never experienced anything even remotely like job security.   EVERYONE, from location scouts to camera-assistants are independent contractors with very little idea what job will be next.    Perhaps that explains it?   Perhaps some of these writers and directors actually pine for long term employment in some safe institutional world that never changes, that preserves the 50 year, worry-free assignment?

How could you possibly ever make this lament credible in any other situation?   Could you start a farming movie with mother nature, played by Queen Latifah, announcing a hail storm and then suffering the ill will of every displaced tomato farmer?   Could you tell a story about a losing professional football team and then feel triumph if they kept losing?   (Could an inept quarterback be blamed on the system itself?)  Could you craft a story about an abusive husband being unfairly victimized by a wife seeking divorce?   Would you be asked to focus your wrath on the judge?

As I write this story, a terrible early winter storm is wreaking havoc in New England.  I imagine there are some fall crops that might not be harvested as a result.  Perhaps food prices will go up, on some fronts.   Maybe that will ripple through the grocery industry, or the commodities trade, and, who knows, perhaps someone will lose their job.

Life is a cycle of pain, and joy, of famine and bounty, of anger and love.   It’s never ever very even.   It’s not a flat track.  It’s a day in the mountains, but, bummer man, the mountains need to be climbed!

Is there a boss somewhere we can blame for that?