Say what you see. A birthday party, Iceland, and snakes on planes.

I made a dash for London this weekend for my brother Tony’s birthday. It was likely the first proper celebration he’s allowed himself since some unsanctioned teenage house parties. People from all phases of his life showed up to recognize a kind and consistent man. Happy birthday, Tony.

I flew in and out via Iceland because it’s cheap. Seattle to Reykjavik was an older plane than Reykjavik to London and the inflight entertainment setup was different. The first leg required a headphone jack but the second supported Bluetooth (and spatial sound) so I listened well on Airpods. But leg one was better to look at.

Iceland has a strong film production setup and is rightly proud of its people, so I watched documentaries on four teenage sisters who take tourists fishing and the day in 1975 when 90% of Iceland’s women went on strike—withdrew paid labor, housework, and childcare; shut down the banks, shops, kitchens, and schools—to protest their second-class citizenship. (Iceland elected a female head of state five years later). I didn’t splash €4 for the Icelandair headphones so it was all subtitles or silence.

Then I watched a film called Touch, a domestic production, set in Iceland, England, and Japan. It’s a love story (available to stream on Peacock). The dialog is Icelandic and Japanese—with subtitles—and quite a lot of English—which had none. The acting and cinematography were excellent so there was nuance in movement and expression that carried character and plot, and beautiful scenes and set design that rewarded close attention. It was a very different watching experience. More alert. Somehow slower. The story was straightforward so I could follow (I went through an obsessive period of step-counting years ago and often had quota left to fill in the evening so would walk in circles while watching TV; tightly scripted foreign language thrillers were hard to follow when subtitled characters were talking behind my back half the time.)

Blackport (2021-2022)

The second leg and both return flights offered Bluetooth, but I watched some more films and shows with no sound, though most still had subtitles. One was an excellent eight-part Icelandic drama called Blackport (available via Amazon Prime Video) that featured full-frontal nudity for which I suspended my new noises-off observational powers and looked around the cabin.

In the days when we all shared six small screens and took whatever programming was suitable for everyone, regardless of age and language, we got soundless Mr. Bean or cartoonish pranks. Nothing subtle. But a few hours of pure observation, trying to read plot and character and interplay in body language and context felt different. A skill worth exploring. I’ll try it again.

I suspect that turning the sound and captions off every now and then might sharpen our listening skills. Help us read the room. Pay close attention. And push back when we’re told to reject the evidence of our eyes and ears.