Monday, May 30, 2011

On the importance of variety


I'm sure you've all heard of and read - to nauseating levels in pop culture, sometimes - the saying that "variety is the spice of life." I'm sure at least some of you have read nerdlikejazzy's recent viral blogpost '18 Things I Wish Someone Would’ve Told Me at 18,' point number 4 of which elaborates on "exploring new ideas and opportunities often." In this post, which in all likelihood will be my last one for the next 6 months owing to my busy schedule, I'll add a few points to support the imperative of varied experiences in life. Don't worry, I'm not gonna get into any heavy-handed, pseudophilosophical discussions about the meaning of life or the "painful journey" we call life. I'll try and work it out from a scientific perspective only and skim the surface of the scientific basis that substantiates the claim.

The American psychologist Fred Attneave writes about the human brain:
"If there were just one brain cell to cope with each image that we can distinguish in all its presentations, the volume of the brain would have to be measured in cubic light years."

Meaning that there is just a tiny bit of information (information as in an image) that can be stored in and processed by one brain cell, and since we come across literally infinite images (well not literally!) each waking moment of our lives, each human brain would have to be the size of a galaxy to be able to successfully process all the images (or other information) we see at any given time, all the time. But we know this isn't true, since we know how big our brains really are - anywhere from the size of a coconut, for most of us, to the size of a peanut, for some people like Arindam Chaudhuri and his disciples. Despite the size that is really required of the brain to process information, our brain does it with extraordinary precision using a size that is only a billionth of what is required. How so, though?

The brain has a workaround trick to solve this, discovered independently in the 1950s by Barlow and Attneave. It has evolved a very sophisticated and complex system of erasing redundancy. Redundancy is the opposite of information; redundancy is a measure of unsurprisingness, information a measure of surprisingness. To illustrate this with an analogy, imagine what a worthless waste of paper it would be if the newspapers reported every single day that the sun rose in the east that day. It's redundant information, and everyone knows without being reminded that the sun rises in the east everyday. However, in the unlikely event that the sun rises in the west on a fateful day, that would be something of a news to report. That is a change from the daily routine of sun's rising in the east, and newspapers will not fail to report it the following day. The information content of it would be high, measured as the 'surprise value' of the message. The brain works in a very similar way, regardless of the body sense to which it is responding or the memory it is storing, as there is only a limited number of neurons for the brain to work with. In fact, the entire nervous system works this way. I'll explore two examples, of senses in particular.

The eye. Suppose you are looking at a black rectangle on a white background. The whole scene is projected on to your retina - you can think of the retina as a screen covered with a dense carpet of tiny photocells, the rods and cones. In theory, each photocell could report to the brain the exact state of the light falling upon it. But the scene we are looking at is massively redundant. Cells registering black are overwhelmingly likely to be surrounded by other cells registering black. Cells registering white are nearly all surrounded by other white-signalling cells. The important exceptions are cells on edges. Those on the white side of an edge signal white themselves and so do their neighbours that sit further into the white area. But their neighbours on the other side are in the black area. Using a phenomenon called 'lateral inhibition,' the brain can reconstruct the whole scene with just the retinal cells on edges firing. There is a massive savings in nerve impulses. The eye tells the brain only about edges and the brain fills in the boring bits between. Once again, redundancy is removed and only information gets through. Any image you see, including these words as you read as well as of anything else that is laying by your computer, is reconstructed in your brain through this same process of inhibition of redundancy.

You can see this lateral inhibition in action in this optical illusion below. Cover the central divide between the two shades of grey with your index finger and stare at your finger for a few seconds. Now both sides appear to be made of the same shade of grey, or very nearly the same. Now move your finger off the screen, and the difference between the shade drastically increases. Can you reason why?



The ear. Hearing, all audible sounds as analogous to images, works very similar to the eye as described above: by cutting down on the redundancy in the pitch of the sound, filtering in only the information about the variation in pitch, and then the brain processing and reconstructing the sound - all in real time. But with sound, there is an additional factor: of time itself. To explain just how dramatically the brain filters out redundancy, let me cite this study conducted by researchers at Rice University. Two groups of subjects were made to listen to two sound pieces respectively. The first sound, given to the first group, was of constant pitch whereas the second sound, given to the second group, was of varying pitch. The groups were not told of the duration of the sound they were listening to, and none of them had clocks or watches or any other way of measuring time. After both groups finished listening to the sounds, when asked to guess the duration of the sound piece they just listened to, all the subjects of the first group (the constant-pitch group) reported a duration that was much less than the duration reported by the subjects of the second group - despite the fact that both sound pieces were of the exact same duration! The first group subjects' brains not only cut down on the redundancy of constant pitch but also reduced the subjective perception of time that was associated with the redundant information. The second group subjects' brains, however, because of the variation in pitch and thus more 'surprise content,' were able to store not only more information about the sound but also more of the overall time associated with it.

Where I am going with all these illustrations and citations should be clear at this point. The reason why four years of college feel like four months is because of the same reason that the brain remembers a constant-pitch sound to be shorter than it is: repetitive, routine tasks are compacted by the brain into just a few, typical, representative prototypes and stored into memory locations where the subjective perception of time is also cut short in accordance with those compressed memories, thereby filtering out not only the redundancies of the experience but also much of the perception of time that the experience is made of. This essentially is the same way our brain retains boiled-down memories over an entire lifetime.

So, to counter this seeming 'drawback' in the design of our brain, to keep life from feeling short-lived and having passed in a flash, to avoid the perception of time having flown like an arrow, it's most advisable to have different kinds of varied experiences that the brain can perceive as information or 'surprise content', to try new things if only for the sake of the feel, to break the patterns of tedious, recurrent routine that come off as redundant, and also to collect as many photos, videos and souvenirs of the experience - because remember this: there's only so much the brain can remember.

_

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Glimpses of genius

The next suitable person you’re in light conversation with, you stop suddenly in the middle of the conversation and look at the person closely and say, “What’s wrong?” You say it in a concerned way. He’ll say, “What do you mean?” You say, “Something’s wrong. I can tell. What is it?” And he’ll look stunned and say, “How did you know?” He doesn’t realize something’s always wrong, with everybody. Often more than one thing. He doesn’t know everybody’s always going around all the time with something wrong and believing they’re exerting great willpower and control to keep other people, for whom they think nothing’s ever wrong, from seeing it. This is the way of people. Suddenly ask what’s wrong and whether they open up and spill their guts or deny it and pretend you’re off, they’ll think you’re perceptive and understanding. They’ll either be grateful, or they’ll be frightened and avoid you from then on. Both reactions have their uses, as we’ll get to. You can play it either way. This works over 90 percent of the time.

-The Pale King, pages 17-18, David Foster Wallace

Trivia: While googling a sentence from this paragraph to find the rest of it and thus save the effort and time in typing it out for this blog post, I discovered that dozens of other bloggers have blogged this exact same quote! (Example 1, Example 2, Example 3 , and many more...)

Monday, May 2, 2011

Source Code: A Review, or a Review of a Review

Under peer pressure or with sly secondary intentions, I’m being made to write this review by the two other, equally worthless assholes (Rohan & Himanshu) I watched this film with yesterday at the movies. I civilly oblige.

So, yeah. First things first. Unlike them both, who thought this film didn’t live up to the hype (what with all the raving reviews and a 90% rating at Rotten Tomatoes that gave Inception an appropriate 75%), I thought it way surpassed the hype. Actually, leaving popular hype where it belongs (in the shitbucket), Source Code surpassed my own expectations of Duncan Jones whose directorial debut, Moon, being awesome and everything, had me looking forward to his next project for about a year now. And having now seen this piece of celluloid masterpiece, I’m looking more forward to his next project, Mute, than I did for this.

OK, my personal raving aside, time for that which is implicitly promised when I review: Less discussing and more diss-cuss-ing. Source Code is as bad a title for a film as it is for the sci-fi invention used in the film. Source code, as all you proper, would-be and engineer of sorts know, is a generic term for the text part of a computer program. To name your biggest, game-changing technological creation as Source Code makes me question your judgment as well your credentials as a PhD who can tap into the residual consciousness of the dead. Additionally, naming your film by a dry, common software engineering terminology can have anyone – engineers and non-engineers alike – assume or even judge before actually watching it as most do that it’s a computerish or softwarish or geekish film – none it could be any further from. Use some creativity, of which you are evidently brimful, while naming your films for future reference, Jones.

And now the Holy Grail of film critiquing: Masand ki pasand. To put it in simple terms, Masand’s one review of Source Code has more insights and penetrating observations, and a rating that is objectively accurate to the fifth decimal, than the planetary congregation of insights of all those who saw the film, made the film and wrote the screenplay. His unnatural eloquence and insightfulness are on display in what he aptly calls Masand’s Verdict (seriously, why call it anything else when it is exactly that – a verdict, not a review), as can be seen in this exemplary concluding statement of his Source Code verdict: "It’s not perfect." Oh man, what a bummer! It’s not perfect!

Masand’s ideal definition of a perfect film is Avatar, which he gave a singular 5/5 despite acknowledging, using his remarkable I’ve-seen-more-films-than-you-duh power of dissection, that the plot was so predictable as to numb your mind like anesthesia.

In his infinite wisdom, Masand also suggests that Inception lovers and dopers should go watch Source Code. At the risk of being exiled into oblivion for disagreeing with His Insightfulness’ suggestion, I recommend you suspend any expectations of seeing an Inception or some other pop film in this and watch it with a blank-slate preconception plate. When the movie ends and the titles roll and you realize it’s not another Inception or Déjà Vu, you are more likely than not to feel let down. Every film has its inspirations and aspirations from past films – regardless of how original it superficially appears – but to cite those films as a ruler to weigh this film against and to give false ideas of what to expect would lead to despair when the film fails to meet your expectations or goes in a different direction altogether. So put simply, let the film thrill you in its own right.

But yes, both Chris Nolan and Duncan Jones – besides hailing from England, bah! – have similar philosophy at filmmaking, though to varying degrees. Like Nolan, Jones doesn't patronize the audience by either spoon-feeding the story or preaching moral lessons at them. While much is presented visually comprehensibly, he does leave at least some aspect of the story to our imagination and lets us work out why this or that happened by following the clues here and there. He did that in Moon and he does it in SC as well in the much-discussed ending, and he does it so efficiently that the audience feel immensely rewarded when they figure out the why post gestating the questions. However, more important than these intellectual puzzles, and this is the hallmark of a good director, he packs and transforms the whole story into an engaging emotional medium that connects the screen to the audience and lets the drama, the action, the compassion for the characters and the progression of mood flow. He does this consistently for the stretch of the film, and at no point did I feel “left out” or disconnected; I was involved in it; I had lost myself in it. This sadly doesn’t happen with most films I watch.

That, however, is not to say it was all sentimental goo. Far, far from it – subtlety is the key. If there is any director who can pull off a happy ending without making it repulsively cloying (refer: Rajkumar Hirani’s brilliant, amazing, soul-bonding, generation-defining body of work that is saturated with didactic moral chapters on the "right way to do things"), it is Duncan Jones. He has decidedly become an object of envy for me, and I hope to God it stays that way!

8.5/10. Yeah!

Note:
1. Anish Kapoor’s famous sculpture Cloud Gate is featured towards the end of the film – partly chosen for its reflective features, mirror reflection being an important plot device in this film, and partly for artistic purposes.
2. Michelle Monaghan is very cute, damn it!
3. If you do not grasp the answer to the lingering question that’s on everyone’s mind at the end of the film, read this explanation below (not mine). But read only after you watch it – contains spoilers, even the very reading of the question.



SPOILER ALERT:

Q. How does Colter survive longer than 8 minutes in the final transfer to the train bomb scene in the end?

A. Colter's consciousness is sent from his body attached to the source machine in the starting universe to Sean's body in the newly created parallel universe each time source code is "started". When Sean's body is killed in the parallel universe, Colter's consciousness is returned to his body in the starting universe (because of the link via source code). Even if Sean's body isn't killed, Colter's consciousness is still returned to his body in the starting universe, and Sean regains/resumes possession of his own body in the parallel universe. Once Colter's consciousness returns to the starting universe, the source code team then interrogate his conciousness (via the computer terminal) to find out what Colter has learned and then send him to another parallel universe, rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat until they get the information they need.

When Colter is sent to a new parallel universe for the final time by Goodwin, he is able to defuse the bomb and arrest the bomber within 8 minutes and gets prepared for the last kiss of his life just at the end of 8 minutes. When Goodwin in the original universe switches off Colter's life support at the end of 8 minutes, she has terminated Colter's body, but his consciousness is in the final parallel universe. By switching off Colter's life support she has severed Colter's link to his body and he is forever trapped in Sean's body in the final parallel universe (which is what he suspected and wanted to happen). When Colter/Sean dies (presumably of old age) in the final parallel universe, only then will Colter's consciousness finally die.