Roadrunner

Mrs P and I watched Roadrunner, the Anthony Bourdain documentary last night. It’s very well put together. It has the feel of a video obituary, but one in which the subject has had a posthumous, participatory role in the making of it. There’s been some excellent use of audio AI to imitate Bourdain’s voice, to allow him to contribute to his story from beyond the grave. Some critics have expressed some reservations about this sort of use of technology. I am quite sure that Mr Bourdain would have had No Reservations. None at all. You will notice what’s real and what’s not only through the context of what is being said. Even then, you may not notice.

There has always been a dark streak running through Bourdain’s veins, that has been expressed quite clearly for many years in his narration and interviews. His death was a shock. And yet, in hindsight, it was also a seemingly inevitable ending to a troubled mind. His death was a cause for sadness, as all deaths are. But I also mourn the death of his future creativity. There were still so many places for him to see, so many people to talk to, so many meals to eat. So many stories for him to tell us.

He loved Vietnam. It’s a love I share. South East Asia has a magic about it, and Vietnam especially so. Indeed, Vietnam is one of just two countries that I have visited where I have felt that I could happily live there. Life is a story, and Vietnam is a place where life’s grandest stories just effortlessly happen with every step you take.

I must return there, one day.