![]() ![]() "We didn't anticipate that," Noble told Newsweek. Not only did their activity not dissipate-it spiked. For a 2017 study published in Open Biology, Noble and his colleagues tested mice and zebrafish and found not just a handful, but a combined total of 1,063 genes that remained active, in some cases for up to four days after the subject had died. Scientists working on human cadavers have from time to time observed genes that are active after death, according to University of Washington microbiology professor Peter Noble. Actually, the cells are much more resilient to the heart stopping-to the person dying-than we used to understand." But the cells don't instantly switch from alive to dead. "I'm not saying the brain still works, or any part of you still works once you've died. Sam Parnia, director of critical care and resuscitation research at New York University Langone Medical Center, told Newsweek. "What's fascinating is that there is a time, only after you and I die, that the cells inside our bodies start to gradually go toward their own process of death," Dr. This does not mean you're not dead you are dead. Over the last few years, though, scientists have seen repeated evidence that once you die, your brain cells take days, potentially longer, to reach the point past which they've degraded too far to ever be viable again. Without many people returning from the dead to show us otherwise, it was natural to assume, from a scientific perspective, that our consciousness dies at the same time as our bodies. ![]() Modern resuscitation was a game-changer for emergency care, but it also blew apart our understanding of what it means to be dead. Today, someone's heart can stop and they can be dead, and then they can come back. Those two were more or less the same until about 50 years ago, when we saw the advent of CPR. Philosophically, though, our definition of death hinges on something else: the point past which we're no longer able to return. Blood circulation comes to a halt, we don't breathe, our brains shut down-and that's what divides the states we occupy from one moment (alive) to the next (dead). Secrets in Washington? Sure sounds like a topic we should all be better versed in.Clinically, we understand death to mean the state that takes hold after our hearts stop beating. The movie and its over-the-top, needless violence show how secretive missions even by bumbling know-nothings (whose only knowledge of undercover ops seems to come from spy flicks) can have disastrous outcomes. But I would disagree with the critics who claim it doesn't go anywhere. Where does it go? I don't want to give away any of the twists to answer that question in depth. Notions of "intelligence" and all that the word connotes (along with its antonyms) mix into the film's dark comedic brew of unintended consequences. And George Clooney, who can only stop talking when it's time to go running or jump into bed with someone, plays a G-man fixated on sex. Pitt is a workout addict, who can barely stop moving long enough to think straight. McDormand is hellbent on getting expensive elective surgery to "reinvent" herself. As in the Coen brothers' 1987 box-office hit RAISING ARIZONA, obsessions fuel the plot, though this time it's body (not baby) obsession. Malkovich's pronunciations of "mem-wahhh" for "memoir" is a hoot, and his correction of Pitt's mistaken "report" for "rapport" propels a conflict between classes and types - symbols of a society in trouble, whose priorities are askew. Next to you we all have a drinking problem." And as usual in Coen-land, there's a clash between high and low brow. When a co-worker points to Malkovich's alcohol problems as a reason for his demotion, Malkovich retorts, "You're a Mormon. As usual, the Coens' dialog is a real treat. What better place to set such a story than Washington, DC? The story involves a demoted government worker (John Malkovich) who finds himself the target of an extortion scheme by two gym workers, riotously played by Frances McDormand (a would-be gym bunny if only she could afford some plastic surgery) and Brad Pitt (a high-energy, arm-thrusting, hip-shaking fitness trainer-cum-"good Samaritan" who lands himself way in over his head). From the opening moments, the Coens' latest movie - a spy-thriller spoof - hurls the viewer on a hilarious romp through Absurd-land. Still, it is very, very funny and loads of fun. It's more "Big Lebowski" than "Intolerable Cruelty," though there are wisps of both, but "Burn" is not quite up to Lebowski's genius. BURN AFTER READING is laugh-out-loud funny. ![]()
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