Latest news with #humanrelationships
New York Times
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- New York Times
‘Little, Big, and Far' Review: Dwelling in the Cosmos
Around halfway through Victor Hugo's novel 'Les Misérables,' the omniscient narrator is musing on the ways that the tiniest and grandest building blocks of life in our cosmos intersect. 'Where the telescope ends, the microscope begins,' he writes. 'Which of the two possesses the larger field of vision?' Good question. In Jem Cohen's uncategorizable film 'Little, Big, and Far,' an astronomer named Karl (Franz Schwartz) remarks that he was surprised as a child to learn that the stars were millions of miles apart, something he tells us while we're seeing images of the night sky. From his point of view perched on Earth, those stars seemed crowded together, keeping one another company, all connected. This leads him to ruminate on how human relationships can contain vast distances, even when our bodies are in relative physical proximity. For instance, there's the distance that's grown between him and his wife of 40 years, Eleanor (Leslie Thornton), who's also an astronomer, and who seems to be drifting away. That sense of echoes between celestial bodies, our bodies and the tiniest parts of the world — the ways things like uncertainty and harmony and connection and memory are embedded in the natural world, as well as the more metaphysical one — is the theme of 'Little, Big, and Far.' But I am not quite sure how to tell you what the film is, other than achingly beautiful. Those who've seen Cohen's previous films, including 'Museum Hours,' will have a sense of what they're in for; I've seen 'Big, Little and Far' described as an 'epistolary essayistic docu-fiction hybrid,' which is accurate but not all that illuminating. Epistolary, because most of the dialogue in the film is in the form of letters between Karl and a younger colleague, Sarah (Jessica Sarah Rinland), who is forming a relationship with Mateo (Mario Silva), also an astronomer. Karl and Sarah share their thoughts about their work, their relationships, their lives and the things that draw them to the stars. Often we're hearing their letters while seeing images of a giant telescope, people on a town square, traffic whizzing by on the highway, the natural world, the lights in the night sky. We hear a little from Eleanor, too, who speaks about watching an eclipse from a mall parking lot and being just as fascinated by the way the other observers, mostly strangers to one another, form a little community for the moment. During this rumination and many others, most images we are seeing are of real people going about their real lives, whether it's riding the light rail in Vienna or sitting on a folding chair and watching a solar eclipse. In one stretch of the film, Sarah's voice reflects on whether museums, as she puts it, must be 'places not only of knowledge, but of mourning' in an era in which species are disappearing from Earth at fearsome rates. As we listen, we watch people milling about a natural-history museum, looking at the displays, seemingly unaware of the presence of a camera. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Washington Post
20-06-2025
- Washington Post
Lonely? Call your AI best friend.
Lonely? Call your AI best friend. AI has become the one-stop solution to most of the problems we face. But can it truly substitute for human relationships? Drew Goins is joined by Post Opinions editor at large Bina Venkataraman and inclusion strategist Charlotte Marian Pearson to discuss the rise of AI companionship and what could be lost as more and more people get closer to this new technology.
New York Times
12-06-2025
- Science
- New York Times
Early Humans Settled in Cities. Bedbugs Followed Them.
When it comes to successful relationships, there's nothing quite like the long, long marriage between bedbugs and humans, even if the affection goes in one direction. The species of bedbug that feeds on us while we slumber is monogamous with humans; it does not shack up with any other species. Despite the ick factor, the insect does not transmit disease, nor does it cause harm beyond the mild irritation where its needlelike mouth pierces the skin. That relationship, it turns out, has been going on for much longer than previously known. According to a new study published in the journal Biology Letters, the bedbug's long affair with humans began about 245,000 years ago. The insect strayed from the cave-dwelling bats that had been its sole source of sustenance and discovered the blood of a Neanderthal, or some other early human, that had bedded down in the same cave. From that point on, scientists say, bedbugs diverged into two distinct species: one that lived off bat blood, and one that fed on humans. 'You're not going to find a bedbug in your garden,' said Warren Booth, a professor of urban entomology at Virginia Tech and a lead author of the study. 'They are completely reliant on us to spread.' After a decline that accompanied early man's nomadic existence, the human-dependent bedbug population began to explode about 13,000 years ago, the study found. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
The Guardian
18-05-2025
- General
- The Guardian
That's enough pro-pet propaganda! There are at least seven things that humans do better
I am starting to think the international research community might be in the pay of pets. It's not an allegation I make lightly, but have you been following companion animal news recently? First, research from the University of Kent concluded pets were equivalent to £70,000-worth of life satisfaction and wellbeing, roughly equivalent to the psychological benefits of being married. Then, in a Hungarian study, dog owners reported 'greater satisfaction with their dogs than with any human partner except their child'. And now a survey of 31,299 pet owners reveals 58% of people find cats and dogs more comforting than people at stressful times, outranking spouses, friends and kids. It all feels a bit OTT; a bit, 'Did a dog write this?' Someone needs to fight back for human relationships, and it falls to me. This is not a position in which I ever expected to find myself. British women of my vintage tend to model ourselves on the late Queen, wearily tolerating humans but joyfully enthused by corgis and cows. In girlhood we fixated on guinea pigs or ponies (shades of Penelope Chetwode, who on becoming pregnant, said: 'I wish it could be a little horse'); now we manage our menopause symptoms by acquiring and then lavishing love on rescue donkeys, a flock of homicidal geese or a goldendoodle with psychological problems. It's pretty much a given that we prefer pets to partners. I'm certainly more physically and verbally affectionate with my favourite hen than with my spouse: 'I adore you,' I whisper fervently, cradling her in my arms and kissing her tiny, empty head. When my husband puts his arm round me, I tell him he's hurting my dodgy hip and wriggle free to complain about the recycling. But at the risk of alienating my community, I do like him much better than any pet. Because there are things partners can offer that pets absolutely cannot – and I don't mean sex (though, yes, that too). Opposable thumbs Human thumbs are great: no hen has never made me a sandwich (or, indeed, chauffuered me on a four-hour trip to Preston to collect more hens). Moral support When I was made redundant, my dog sat on my knee for five minutes, tops. In a crisis, my husband can be counted on to conjure 14 schemes of escalating insanity to resolve it while mixing me near-fatally strong drinks and inventing disgusting insults for my adversaries. A comforting physical presence is good, but jokes and dry martinis are better. Sharing the burden Your dog, cat or horse doesn't care about persistent black mould, unauthorised overdraft fees or why the boiler is making that ominous noise. It's understandable – but it's also sort of rude. You live here too, mate, and much of the overdraft is attributable to: your Dreamies habit; stealing and eating an entire fruitcake; trying to die from a tummy ache (a horse thing, apparently); and so on. Lifespan Unless you have a tortoise, one the greatest tragedies of companion animals is our incompatible lifespans. If your pet is a tortoise, it's worse: you'll need to consider succession planning (our sons are bafflingly unthrilled by their future reptilian responsibilities). A sense of occasion Humans generally know when a fuss needs to be made. Pets have no sense of occasion, except in the sense that your birthday/wedding/Beyoncé gig is precisely the time they will eat an entire fruitcake or be struck by life-threatening tummy ache. Manners I don't exactly have dowager countess etiquette standards, but I do have limits, and jumping on to my plate to steal my lunch, as my hens do, crosses a red line. My husband would never do this; nor would he dream of waking me at 4.45am to demand breakfast, like my best friend's cat does most mornings. Gossip This is the clincher. Yes, a companion who can speak is a mixed blessing but consider this: pets never want to share an exciting neighbourhood scandal they've discovered, chew over family drama or engage in scurrilous speculation about acquaintances. You will never catch your pet's eye in public and know how much fun you'll have later rehashing what just went down. And that, for me, is the pinnacle of relationship satisfaction, whatever Big Pet tries to tell us. Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist
