Since 1989 (Sex, Lies, and Videotape), filmmaker Steven Soderbergh has been a pioneering voice in American cinema. Part free-wheeling iconoclast, part exacting technician.
Today, we return to our conversation with the legendary artist. First, Soderbergh describes his process making No Sudden Move amid the pandemic (8:38), his ability to push past creative blocks (14:34), the importance of 1998’s Out of Sight (31:00), the seismic impact of his late mentor, Mike Nichols (27:28), and how a formative moviegoing memory (28:48) informed his ideas on the role of storytelling (32:43). Before we go– Steven speaks candidly on the future of movies (39:20) and his role in them (41:13).
This episode originally aired June 27th, 2021. To hear our latest talk with Sean Fennessey, listen here. Thoughts or future guest ideas? Email us at sf@talkeasypod.com.
Pushkin, this is talk easy. I'm student fragoso. Welcome to the show. Since nineteen eighty nine, Sex Lies and Videotape, Steven Soderberg has been one of the leading voices in American cinema. He's made thirty five films in just about thirty five years, across varying genres, from crime thrillers like Out of Sight, The Limey and Traffic to dramas like Aaron brock Kovich and The Girlfriend Experience, the heist film like The Ocean's Trilogy, and Logan Lucky like the late filmmaker Sidney Lament. The sheer prolificness of Soderbergh is what people tend to first mention when they talk about him. But beyond the sheer quantity of his work, what's most impressive, at least to me, is his chameleonic ability to weave in and out of different stories rather effortlessly, or at least it appears effortless. Soderberg and I sat down over Zoom around the release of No Sudden Move. It's a film he made rather improbably amid the pandemic, with zero on set COVID cases. But this isn't a COVID centered conversation. Although we do talk about the hectic production at the top of this episode, the talk is more wide ranging, discussing his ability to work through creative blocks, the influence of his late mentor Mike Nichols, and what he sees for both the future of film and his role in it. If you haven't heard this episode before, it is one of my personal favorites, and I wanted to replay it this week as a kind of b side to our conversation with Sean Fantasy of the Big Picture. That episode with Sewan came out this past Sunday. You can find out wherever you are listening to this right now. We will be back this coming Sunday over the Labor Day weekend with a brand new episode featuring a filmmaker we've long wanted to have on Talk Easy. So I hope you come back for that. And until then, here is Steven Soderberg. Steven Soderberg, thank you for being here.
Thank you for inviting me.
Now you've directed thirty three or thirty four movies. That number could be off. I think it's right. On each occasion you've returned to this line of thinking that I really like You've said, it's always important for me to have some aspect the filmmaking process be terrifying, some part that fundamentally scares me. So why don't we start there? What about no sudden move?
Terrifying you that it would be confusing and that the film builds to a climax that's not a traditional climax in the sense that it doesn't it doesn't culminate in a shootout, and films like this typically do. We were trying to create, you know, within this intricate plot, a sense of a universe, you know, kind of leaking in from the sides that that also affects the central core narrative. And so the thing that scared me the most is a are people going to be confused in the wrong way? You want them intrigued. You're okay with the fact that people don't understand everything all the time, but it's very easy to lose people. It's very easy to get so far out in front of them that they get tired of chasing you. And then at the end, like I said, the film sort of lands in what we hope is an unexpected way in terms of you not seeing what's coming. But it's kind of It's a very intimate climax in a way between these two characters. And so my fear is will that be satisfying enough for people or will they be really disappointed that this doesn't turn into some kind of blast fest in the last five minutes.
You're worried about confusing people? Is that a concern you have in your films? Often there are other films that are just as intricate, or maybe even more intricate. Do you worry about lose people along the way?
Yeah? I just think clarity is not something to be dismissed, and being obscure is easy. It's too easy for a filmmaker. The hardest thing in the world is to be good and clear, and with the understanding that the trick here is that sometimes in order to be clear, you are you're sort of being pushed into a territory of becoming obvious, which you don't want to be. But you do want to be clear. So you've got to find these ways to satisfy both those demands. But I get very frustrated when I watch a movie where I feel I am not clear on what this is. I don't think that people making it are clear on what this is and they just are taking this pose of being elliptical, and I just want you to tell me a story.
You've made a lot of films and in quick succession, but you're also in your late fifties, and while many of us were sitting at home panicking about the pandemic or watching Colombo on the couch, which is what I was doing, you were making a movie. And I feel like this speaks to a philosophy of yours. You said an Esquire in two thousand and two. It's a bad sign when there are years between your films and there's no substitute for shooting. The biggest benefit is that it roots out preciousness. I think preciousness is the enemy of art, and this philosophy that you seem to hold deer even in a global pandemic, is I have to say, impressive.
Well, I appreciate that it was a very weird set of circumstances in that a pandemic was or the idea of a pandemic was obviously something that I was familiar with, and then I had the opportunity to become involved in the industry protocols that allowed us to go back to work, so it was a It was a really weird call to action that that was really generated by the fact that, you know, a decade earlier we made this film.
You're talking about contagion now.
Yeah, and and I certainly hoped that not only would we we be able to get people back to work safely, but that potentially whatever structures we put in place were exportable to other industries, whether it be another business or schools or you know. We We spent a lot of time working with the absolute a team of epidemiologists to develop these protocols and they've worked. Yeah, as everybody knows, a weird year, but for me, not completely without a certain kind of, you know, engagement that I think a lot of people didn't have the luxury to experience during lockdown.
It does make sense, though, given your career, that even in a pandemic, you are still kind of going at it. Did your family kind of expect that of you?
Well? I try to ask my family a lot of questions because I'm afraid what the answers will be.
Just as a general rule.
Yeah, I don't want anybody telling me anything true, that's for sure. But I don't think anybody was surprised anybody close to me that there was just no universe in which I was going to sit around like that. That was just not an option. And I like to watch things, as we know, because I published this list every year. But this was a truly new experience, and so my initial solve was to do something I haven't done in a long time and that I don't really enjoy doing typically, and that is writing. I just sat down and started writing it, and that carried me through the initial wave of COVID right up until the shooting of No Sutting Move in the fall.
I wonder with the crew, is there a certain sense of camaraderie that, hey, we're making this film happen? Because I directed a short on election Day in Vegas with about eight people, and you know, our DP just had a kid, and we all were all we were all coming together under these kind of insane circumstances, and I think it did bind us.
Yeah, no, with that question. When we finally the feeling of finally getting back on set in Detroit, when we started up again was incredibly powerful. The fact that the movie got shut down in March and there was a question whether it would come back. I think for the people of Detroit. There was a real worry that we wouldn't come back, that even if the movie got reconstituted, that the expense of going back to Detroit again would prevent us from doing so that I think you're right. I think being there on that first day we were just so happy, like we were so happy and felt so lucky, and it really it really sustained through the shoot in the sense that not only was there a real spree de corps, but as evidenced by the fact that we were able to do it safely without any problems, without having any positive cases the production down. What that means is that people really bought into the idea of staying safe while we're shooting, because I only have these people for ten or eleven hours a day. Then they leave me and go somewhere else, and this is where potentially you're going to have an issue. They're going to bring it to work. So the fact that that didn't happen meant everybody understood we've really got a band together here and take these protocols safely even when we're not on set. I'm just so happy that people were willing to make that commitment.
You do make this film, and I want to stick with that line. Preciousness is the enemy of art, And I wondered, have you ever felt that you've conflated preciousness with patience? Has your aversion to preciousness ever shuffled you off a project prematurely?
No? But I think I have a pretty good internal algorithm for identifying a trajectory that is not going to make me happy. You know, I can look at something at whatever stage. It could be an idea, it could be a script, it could be a script that's already got cast, and as financing like, I think, over time, my ability to look at something and know whether or not I should do it and whether it would benefit from me doing it or if it's going to make me crazy or sad. And I follow that and I listen to that. I'm still very much focused on continuing to optimize the process so that it's as aerodynamic as it can be. I mean, there are benefits to that, you know, that are economic and that are very clear. But it's more I just hate way east. I don't mind exploration. And the first thing, if I'm on a set and I feel like something is not working, I don't believe essentially what I'm looking at or I'm not sure how to shoot it. The first thing I do is I slow everything down. I send everybody away, and I sit in the space and I'm trying to turn the clock off so that I can go into a pure creative space, because it's my belief that the thing talks to you, the thing that you're making talks to you, and I need to be when I feel like it's pushing, it's resisting me, something is pushing back, something's not right. And when that happens, I send everybody away. I sit down in the space and start to like unpack it and like take it back to try and ask myself this list of questions, why is this scene not working? Sometimes you come up with the solve in a few minutes. There was one case where the sequence itself was so large and my frustration or inability to figure it out so significant. I send everybody home because I didn't want to sit there and waste everybody's time when I just said I don't have this, like I don't have this at all. And I figured it out that night, and then by noon the next day we had done two days of work. But it's when my desire to work fast is strictly is the result I hope of stripping away everything that doesn't matter.
There's something incredibly honest and vulnerable about being able to do what you just said you did to say, I'm sitting in a room, I've cleared everyone out. I'm trying to locate the answer. I'm not finding it. Instead of shooting something I know is not right yet go home. That's something I many people, as I'm sure you know, would have a hard time doing.
This happened. This was one of the Ocean's films that this happened on. So the good news is that I have the unlike a lot of people, I have the support to be able to do that. A because it's incredibly rare, like that's that's the only time I've sent people away. That's the only time I literally sent everybody home. And so knowing that everybody involved understood, oh shit, okay, he really like he really and they appreciate it in the sense that they know it means I want it to be right like I want it. I'm not going to sit here in front with you guys when I don't believe what I'm doing. And like I said, it turned out by the next day we were right back on track. Because when you know what the idea is that you're trying to execute, it does go quickly. It's certainly an admission of, if not failure, of being human. You don't hit Bull's eyes day after day like it's just it's a fluid thing. It may seem strange, you know, when you hear stories of like how quickly we've executed something, but that is absolutely with me, working from a place that this is how it's going to be forever. Better. You better like what you're getting because this is what people are going to see. It's got your name on it, and they're going to see it like this further forever. So don't walk away until you feel you can defend it.
After the break. More from Steven Zetterber. I want to go to a human moment in your life because watching Don Jeetle in the backseat of a car in your latest movie, I'm immediately transported back to the driving scenes of Out of Sight. And I know this was your first time returning to Detroit, Sin shooting that film in nineteen ninety seven. When you made Out of Sight, you said I had to chase that project and making that movie was the most pressure I've ever felt. I got up every morning with a knot in my stomach because I thought, if I blow this, I'm fucked. I'm so so fucked.
That was a good delivery from you.
That means a lot.
Well, you know, I'm just calling it like I see it. We would have walked away and moved on to the next thing, you know. The trick there, and that is true. I mean I wasn't being dramatic in the sense that I was. I was very much aware of the professional stakes involved for me on that project, and the trick was to do a kind of Jedi mind thing where practically speaking, when I showed up on set, I behaved as though we were making Schizopolis and I could do whatever I wanted. And that's that's what I was able to do again with the support of some really good producers and a studio that that believed that I would execute. But it was it was to feel in that moment when that the thing that you love to do more than anything else is hanging in the balance. If you're not careful, it can be debilitating. You've got to, really, like I said, find a way to put yourself in a pure creative space and turn that voice off. So, like I said, you can listen to what the thing wants to be, because the thing wants to be something, and you can't hear it if you're just talking all the time. I see it. I think you if you talk to people that I work with, especially cast, they would probably say, I was really surprised at how little he talked.
Is that because you're doing a lot of the talking internally.
No, it's because for me in that space, that becomes a way to obfuscate things as opposed to clarify or illuminate. And so it's not like I won't talk to people, but especially when I'm dealing with an actor, the last thing I want is to get them into some sort of intellectual headspace that's that's driven by a conversation. I want to keep it. I want to keep it physical. So I think you would if you saw a transcript of my interaction with an actor over the course of a day. It's all physical, practical things. It's not conceptual at all. I believe if you get the physicality of it right, that everything else flows from that. So it's all very it's and that includes talking about breathing, talking about the cadence of how they're speaking, but it's but it's physicalized. I drifted. What I what I was responding to was was a drifting away from a kind of film that made me want to make movies. I mean, by the time The Underneath was happening, I felt I was becoming a formalist. Like I really wondered where the kind of engagement in energy that I began with went. You know, And it sounds terrible to say something about a movie that people work so hard on, but The Underneath represented for me this sort of if not the the nat or, it was something that I could look at objectively and wonder what the hell I was thinking, Like what kind of who? What filmmaker made this? Like how did I get here? Because this doesn't feel like what I should be doing or what I can do. As you're well aware, if you're fortunate enough to have a first film that seems to quote work for people, the industry generally is going to encourage you to repeat that success in as many particulars as possible. Obviously that wasn't something I was interested in, and the choices at least the next two choices. Kafkaan and King of the Hill are sending messages to let people know, if you think I'm going to make sex lies over and over again, that's just not going to happen. And I was exploring, I mean learning, I look back, you know, I have this. There's a new version of Kafka that'll be coming out later this year, And in preparing that, it was fun for me to look at it thirty plus years thirty years later now and kind of laugh at what I was thinking I was up to, like to go from to go from sex lives to that, regardless of what you think the result was. I mean, that is talking about being a contrarian. I'm happy that I was that willing to really just run in another direction. I'm glad that the younger version of myself did that and recognized that ultimately, whether there were going to be some bumps, that was the way to go.
Where do you think that willingness came from.
Being inspired by other artists' careers? You know, my favorite artists always were pushing you to look at somebody like Miles Davis. He was just incapable of doing the thing that he'd done already, and so that to me always felt that just felt like the more exciting way to go.
I'm reminded of Mike Nichols now, who I know was a mentor of yours.
Mike did two things in the graduate that were seismic, and usually people are lucky if they do one thing. The casting of Dustin Hoffman in the lead role was not only a masterstroke but literally changed the industry overnight in terms of its ideas of who a movie star could be. I mean, that was just massive. And the other was his use of music. Nobody in this country had entirely scored a film with essentially what we would call sorps music to that point. You know, he absolutely was an influence in the sense of like, man, those are bold, those are bold choices, and he would he'd be the first to tell you that the success of the film, you know, caught everybody by surprise that he didn't know if like those choices were going to end up being accepted or not.
You bring up Dustin Hoffman, and I'm immediately reminded of you. In this period I wanted to go to In the autumn of nineteen seventy six, your family had just relocated to Baton Rouge. I believe you're thirteen years old and grounded, forbidden to attend a party where I think you would hope to make new friends in this new town that you're in, but you're not allowed to go. Instead, you convince your family to go to a movie.
It sounds like the kind of story a filmmaker would invent to show both a level of personal obsession, but also in this case, the degree to which my family, even at that age, understood that they were witnessing an obsession that, even by the standards of a family that could be obsessive, was growing rapidly. And so it was enabled by the fact that my father loved movies. My father published regularly about movies, and he gave me the movie Bug and All the President's Men was something that I'd been waiting for for months. I'd read about it. I knew it was coming. Part of the reason I was grounded was because of some very very ugly grades that I was getting in science class. Because I was reading the Witward Bernstein book in preparation for this movie to show up from my father to parole me for an evening so that I could see this film. I just had there was no I think my father, being a good father and a good parent, recognized that I didn't. Not being able to go to that party was something that I was going to be able to assimilate without too much of a problem. But not being able to see all the president's men was really causing me a lot of pain. So they let me go. They drove me out there. My dad drove me out to the theater and dropped me off and came back and picked me up. And I'm really glad he did.
I've been thinking about your career and in turn, your father a lot, which I know is a strange thing for a stranger to say on a zoom call here basically, but in the aftermath of Out of Sight, you go on this run that I think you're still on in my opinion. But before this streak of movies, I know, he passes away in February of nineteen ninety eight. Out of Sight comes out in the summer of ninety eight, and a couple years after he died, you had this quote. I wanted to read, does religion exist as a way of dealing with the idea that maybe this is it? Certainly, all the evidence in front of us suggests that this is it, that when you die, that's it. My father died very suddenly of a hemorrhage fast. What was sort of shocking about it was, on the one hand, it's the most devastating, profound thing you may ever experience. On the other hand, it is the most common, everyday event that you can imagine. And the world rolls over so fucking fast that you can't believe it. It's like a tidal wave. I mean, life doesn't blink, has changed except you. And so the weird combination of profundity and banality is I find it really difficult to reconcile. And in his passing, you've had basically an uninterrupted stream of work. And it made me wonder, is making movies your way of reconciling the profundity and banality of your time here?
We're certainly a species that's wired for narrative, and I love being a part of the storytelling continuum that we're all a part of. It's a real pleasure and a real privilege to be working in a space that is built on, you know, the emotional connections, disconnections between people. When I start thinking of a movie, I see faces, I don't see like shots. I see faces with a certain feeling, a certain expression. To live inside of that and to have your work be about exploring and excavating how we interact with each other, and particularly you know, I think underneath a lot of things that I've done is the question of why aren't we doing this better? When we talk about profundity and banality, it's the other dichotomy to get into is the beautiful things that we're able to do and the unspeakably ugly and horrible things that we're able to do, sometimes right next to each other in very quick sequence, and what we choose to see and what we choose not to see as we navigate the world, Patterns that we look for that confirm some belief that we've developed or swallowed, and then things that blind spots that we have that we're okay with because to see that thing that we don't want to see will upset us or throw us into a state of dis equilibrium. So all of the I'm interested in all those issues. And to your point, to get back to where you started, it's a good feeling to know how happy my father would have been to see me continuing to work. I got that A lot of that approach I got from him. My father was a real workaholic in the sense that every night at the dining room table, after dinner was done, he took the table over and then continued to work. And if you were at my house you would see that. That's what happens with me as well. But he loved his work. That's where I got that sort of sense of purpose was from him, because he loved what he did.
That line nothing has changed except you. It's really stay with me because in my head it feels like a worldview for you.
As we sort of navigate the new iterations of the me too movement, the toxic boss work environment, all of that, to me comes back to this place of treating people well because I believe this is all we have and the idea of purposefully making someone's experience here unpleasant. I mean, look there, I've had to fire people. I've had people come to me and deliver something that I've asked them to do, and I've had to say this doesn't work. Like it's not it's you know, this job brings with it certain very very tough conversations. There's a way to do that respectfully without diminishing somebody. But I really think you know. My attitude again, we'll check out from my father, who is an educator about how to treat people, is partially driven by this belief that I want my time and any time you're spending with me here to to be as positive as possible, because you're there's already so many things like the death of a parent or a loved one that are going to completely destroy you. Those are already there, So why would you want to like double down on things that are that are destructive. I just don't understand it.
I think that's a rhetorical question.
Yeah. I think life is about three things. Basically managing of expectations, repeat business meaning your interactions with people should be such that they look forward to interacting with you again. And error correction meaning it's cool to make mistakes, don't keep making the same mistake over and over. Those are the three things I try, and you know, use as a prism as I stumble my way forward.
And you have stumbled your way forward, I think rather gracefully, I might add, it doesn't feel like that. Well, I've only known you for forty seven minutes, so we'll give it time.
We haven't seen me walk.
No, I haven't.
No.
I was trying to think, No, I haven't, I don't. But in that long tradition of storytelling, as we leave, you know, you grew up idolizing that period in American cinema between nineteen sixty six and nineteen seventy seven seventy eight, which is where all the president's men resides. Of that decade, you said, looking back on the era, what I think we can now acknowledge is that it's not just enough to tear down a system. You have to have a system ready made to replace it and then has a real shot and making it work. There were a lot of people deservedly saying we hate this fucking system and it has to change. And when people were able to successfully dismantle some things, there was nothing there to take its place. A sort of on we began to set in, and then economic forces began to see an opening and gradually began to bring things back to where they were. Then you get the nineteen eighties, and as the world reopens, do you see a roadmap to avoiding the nineteen in eighties as you've described them.
I think there is a way to avoid that. It's only because the business now is just not as monolithic as it was during the eighties, and that's exciting and scary for the companies and for the filmmakers. It is going to be interesting as people return to the theaters to learn if their interests and tastes have changed after being home for a year and a half, or if we're going to jump right back into, you know, a very similar sort of profile that we had before, which is, you know, kind of fantasy spectacle on one side and you know, awards bait on the other. I think though, that in general, whenever I think things are kind of trending this way, and certainly cinema is in the midst of an existential crisis, movies don't matter the way they used to matter. They just don't occupy the same kind of cultural real estate that they used to occupy, I would argue pre nine to eleven. And that was part of what we confronted when we were working on the oscars, is just how do you make movies relevant like this? They've they've just kind of been overtaken by other forms. But whenever I get into that kind of spiraling mood, I remind myself somebody somewhere that you and I haven't heard of yet is making something amazing that we're going to see this year, next year, two years from now. Some artists is going to blow us away. That may not solve the problems of the industry, but it will excite us and surprise us and make us want to keep going to the movies.
And what about you, because just as recent as twenty seventeen, you have this moment where you're in your Tribeca office and you've taken every film book that you have read up until that point, and you have torn the pages out of these long standing iconic film texts and put them into a collage, basically saying that's it. I don't need them anymore. What does that mean for you?
I wanted to repurpose those books into something that I would never have thrown them away or given them away. But I also, frankly, you know, the number of them that I would go back to again and again was pretty small, and I didn't destroy those so a lot of books, and I really just I wanted to retain something of them while also kind of you know, downsizing a little bit, so creating this you know, giant collage seemed to be a good solve. But I was very aware while I was ripping apart the Michelle Simont book on Stanley Kubrick that if somebody saw me doing this, they would really be angry.
You felt like you were a little bit insane in that moment right ripping these pages up.
It definitely required a compartmentalization that didn't get any easier, Like it took a long time to exact o knife. You know, all these images out of these books, and so it was a real I had to emotionally displace myself. That's true.
My last question before we go in two thousand and nine for Esquire, you said, I'm always looking for something that will destroy the thing I just did. You should be willing to throw it away or annihilate it. I'll destroy my career if it's the last thing I do. I'm forty five now, and when I turn fifty one, that will be twenty five years, and that's a lot of time to do one thing, and it will be like thirty movies, and that's enough. I don't want to have that fall off. I want to go out with Abbey Road. Now that you're fifty eight, thirty four films in and still making. Do you still want to go out with Abbey Road? Or has what you want changed?
If you get a group of directors together for any length of time, the fear of decline comes up almost immediately, especially if there's booze involved. It's just every artist's nightmare that the general line on you is, wow, there was a real fall off at the end, Like it's just that gives filmmakers the night sweats. And the problem is, how do you know? It's not as simple as you know, reading reviews or or whether or not enough eyeballs saw it. It's it's bigger than that. It's more profound than that. And so you know, other than telling one of your close director friends, hey man, when I go out to get the newspaper, like just take me out, just take me out, I don't want to. I don't want to have people say he kind of he kind of lost it at the end. So I don't feel like that now, I don't. I still I think if you watch No Sudden Move, my engagement is all over that film. I mean, it's clear I'm still very excited about my job.
Your fear is basically being you at age twelve, playing baseball, having a seven to zero pitching record, throwing no hitters, a four to fifty batting average. Mid season nineteen seventy five, you thought you were going to be in the majors, and then one day that summer you were not good anymore.
Yeah. Well, what it was was the spark, the X factor that makes you believe in yourself, had disappeared overnight, Like it had disappeared, like I woke up one morning and I knew it when I woke up, like, oh I don't have that thing. That thing went somewhere in the night and it's not coming back. So yeah, I mean, at least in that case, I felt it like I knew what was happening. The fear here is you're wandering around in your pajamas and you know nobody will tell you.
Look, if you need someone to tell you, call me up.
But here's this way so it's not too painful. Is just stop agreeing to talk to me. I'll know when word comes back, Yes, Sam said, he's okay this time, I'll know.
Oh, Ship, until you lose that spark, I would be honored to do this with you, and I have a feeling it's going to continue for a long time.
Okay, keep asking him, keep saying yes.
Steven Soderberg, thank you very much.
Thanks Sam, and that's our show.
If you enjoy that episode with Steven, be sure to leave us five stars on Spotify, Apple, wherever you do your podcasting. If you want to go above and beyond, you can leave us a written review on Apple. You can also share the program across social media, tag us at talk easypod. All of this, any of this really does help us continue making this program each and every Sunday. I want to give us special thanks this week to the teams at Warner Brothers, BAX, and of course, our guest today is Steven Soderberg. If you'd like to learn more about Steven and his work, visit our show notes at talk easypod dot com. If you want to hear more conversations with other great filmmakers, I'd recommend our episodes with Ava DuVernay, Jenick sa Bravo, Werner Hertzog, Eryl Morris, and Hiro Maria. You can find all of those and more Pushkin podcasts on Apple, Spotify, wherever you'd like to listen. As always, our show is produced by Caroline Reebok, our executive producer is Jenick Sa Bravo. Today's episode was edited by Caitlin Dry and Sarah McCrae, who was mixed by Andrew Vastola and Andre Lynn. Our illustrations are by Tricia Shadowy. Our graphics are by Ethan Seneca. Our music is by Dylan Peck. I also want to thank our team at Pushkin Industries, Justin Richmond, Kerry Brody, Jacob Smith, Eric Sandler, Kira Posey, Jordan McMillan, Tera Machado, Owen Millers, Sarah Nix, Malcolm Gladwell, Greta Cohen, and Jacob Weisber. I'm San Fragoso. Thank you for listening to Talk Easy. I'll see you back here on Sunday with a brand new episode. Until then, stay safe and so