. . .and now he's Clooney?
Before I left for MN, I finally saw Up in the Air.
Was it just me, or did anybody else find it significant that Sam Elliot was cast as the pilot who hands Ryan the card and has the serious meaning of life type conversation with him on the plane toward the end of the movie?
Follow my train: Sam Elliot played the omniscient narrator/God figure in The Big Lebowski, who also encounters the main character in a significant, somewhat mysterious, conversational way at the end. In that movie, he has a line about some folks being the encapsulating embodiment of their time, and for his day and age, the Dude was such a one. Up in the Air is about corporate downsizing in the late Aughts in America, and as such, Ryan Bingham is a representative figure of our time (our era's Dude, if you will). And Sam Elliot shows up toward the end of the movie, again playing a psuedo-God role, awarding Ryan with what he thought he wanted.
Subtle (or perhaps not-so-subtle) nod to the Coen brothers?
I'm just sayin. . .
Showing posts with label movie reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movie reviews. Show all posts
Monday, April 26, 2010
Monday, December 7, 2009
Accept the Mystery
I love it when the Coen Brothers play in the wisdom end of the pool.
I finally got to see A Serious Man when I was on vacation in MN. I went to see it with Dad and Brenda, who were kind of disappointed any scenes with their Chevelle were left on the cutting room floor (according to Dad, the car was "just to the right of the frame" in the final shot of the whirlwind).
They also found it a little confusing (especially the beginning and ending), as did I - but I think that was the point. The movie is inspired by the book of Job, it's a study on suffering, and just like the book of Job, the movie offers no clear cut resolution or answers to any of the questions it raises. Readers/viewers can only live the question and accept the mystery.
So, in that spirit, I'm not going to try to unpack a lot of it either. . .but I did find it interesting the way "I haven't done anything" becomes a kind of refrain for Larry Gopnik. It's true - he hasn't done anything to deserve any of the troubles that keep coming his way, and that's consistent with Job's story. But that's kind of a radical departure for Coen Bros leads - often their films contain a rather Lutheran understanding of the bondage of the will, often they document how one poor choice leads to another, and to another, until you are trapped by your choices (or are in bondage to sin, as we like to say) and can now only choose between the lesser of two evils.
Gopnik is a stark contrast to this - he hasn't done anything, he hasn't chosen anything, good or bad. Yet all this bad keeps happening to him, forcing him into impossible choices between the lesser of two evils anyway.
And then, at the very end, when he finally does do something ethically questionable, when he chooses, perhaps, the greater evil - then the phone call from the doctor comes, and the whirlwind shows up.
So - is he now being punished for finally doing something because what he did was wrong? Is he about to get his comeuppance from God?
The movie doesn't tell us.
Live the question. Accept the mystery.
I finally got to see A Serious Man when I was on vacation in MN. I went to see it with Dad and Brenda, who were kind of disappointed any scenes with their Chevelle were left on the cutting room floor (according to Dad, the car was "just to the right of the frame" in the final shot of the whirlwind).
They also found it a little confusing (especially the beginning and ending), as did I - but I think that was the point. The movie is inspired by the book of Job, it's a study on suffering, and just like the book of Job, the movie offers no clear cut resolution or answers to any of the questions it raises. Readers/viewers can only live the question and accept the mystery.
So, in that spirit, I'm not going to try to unpack a lot of it either. . .but I did find it interesting the way "I haven't done anything" becomes a kind of refrain for Larry Gopnik. It's true - he hasn't done anything to deserve any of the troubles that keep coming his way, and that's consistent with Job's story. But that's kind of a radical departure for Coen Bros leads - often their films contain a rather Lutheran understanding of the bondage of the will, often they document how one poor choice leads to another, and to another, until you are trapped by your choices (or are in bondage to sin, as we like to say) and can now only choose between the lesser of two evils.
Gopnik is a stark contrast to this - he hasn't done anything, he hasn't chosen anything, good or bad. Yet all this bad keeps happening to him, forcing him into impossible choices between the lesser of two evils anyway.
And then, at the very end, when he finally does do something ethically questionable, when he chooses, perhaps, the greater evil - then the phone call from the doctor comes, and the whirlwind shows up.
So - is he now being punished for finally doing something because what he did was wrong? Is he about to get his comeuppance from God?
The movie doesn't tell us.
Live the question. Accept the mystery.
Friday, August 7, 2009
A Time for Burning
I just watched this most excellent documentary from the mid-1960s, which follows attempts by some churches in Omaha to promote inter-racial dialogue and understanding between fellow Christians during the heart of the Civil Rights movement. This is cinema verite at its finest, the people in the film spoke very candidly and cut right to the heart of the issue in many of their conversations.
The deeply saddening thing about watching this film is to realize how relevant the film, and the issues raised in the conversations it documents, still is today, over 40 years later (just last week a black ministerium colleague new to the area went to the farmer's market and was immediately accosted by a white person who asked them "You don't think you really belong here, do you?"). So much more dialogue and awakenings that are so needful but have yet to occur, so much more understanding yet to be gained by everyone. . .
The fascinating thing about watching this film is to realize that if you only substitute the words "gay and lesbian" for "colored" or "negro," the conversations between the white church members and pastors are the exact same conversations we're having today on the issue of sexuality. Seriously, I have heard, almost word-for-word, precisely the same hopes and fears given voice in the ELCA over the past few years.
I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same.
But if you get the chance, watch this documentary. Better yet, watch it with a group of people and then talk about it afterward. You won't regret it.
The deeply saddening thing about watching this film is to realize how relevant the film, and the issues raised in the conversations it documents, still is today, over 40 years later (just last week a black ministerium colleague new to the area went to the farmer's market and was immediately accosted by a white person who asked them "You don't think you really belong here, do you?"). So much more dialogue and awakenings that are so needful but have yet to occur, so much more understanding yet to be gained by everyone. . .
The fascinating thing about watching this film is to realize that if you only substitute the words "gay and lesbian" for "colored" or "negro," the conversations between the white church members and pastors are the exact same conversations we're having today on the issue of sexuality. Seriously, I have heard, almost word-for-word, precisely the same hopes and fears given voice in the ELCA over the past few years.
I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same.
But if you get the chance, watch this documentary. Better yet, watch it with a group of people and then talk about it afterward. You won't regret it.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
I went to see the newest Potter movie tonight, and was not disappointed. It was very well done, and a fair adaptation of the book - and I have to admit, I was a bit skeptical going in, because book 6 is so full, I didn't know how they'd do it justice in a 2.5 hour movie.
The one thing I would question is that the book spends a lot of time helping Harry and the reader understand the psychology of Voldemort, which the movie spends virtually no time on at all. I can understand, I suppose, why they'd want to cut a lot of that out, because it's more heady and dialogue-y and doesn't lend itself so well to action and keeping the story clipping along. But it's kind of important to undergirding the 7th book, or at least, I think it is.
They also added an attack that's not in the book, which I find kind of curious - given all they had to cut out, why would they "waste" minutes on something that wasn't originally part of the story? Unless it was an attempt to convey the terror and danger of the times, that no one and no place is really safe (admittedly, you don't get a strong sense of that in the rest of the film).
Not related to the quality of the movie, but rather the quality of the movie-viewing experience: somebody brought their small child with them (like, 3 or 4 years old), who kept talking, loudly, through the first half of the film. I think they finally just left so they would quit annoying the other patrons, but I seriously wonder why on earth they would have brought a child that young to this movie in the first place. Yes, the Harry Potter series was written for children, but the intended audience was 'tweens and older - not toddlers.
People - it's a series about the epic battle between good and evil, and even if you don't know any better because you haven't read the books, the tone turned distinctly darker in the fourth movie (and book), when Voldmort returned in the flesh. The last two movies have seen the death of a Hogwarts student, and of Harry's godfather - you don't think it's going to get even darker before good wins the day? And you think it's appropriate to scare your toddler with this right before bedtime?
Sigh. . .Rich Melheim is so right. . .the world needs more parents raising children, not children raising children (a comment that has everything to do with maturity and nothing to do with age).
Ok, getting off the soapbox now,
C.
The one thing I would question is that the book spends a lot of time helping Harry and the reader understand the psychology of Voldemort, which the movie spends virtually no time on at all. I can understand, I suppose, why they'd want to cut a lot of that out, because it's more heady and dialogue-y and doesn't lend itself so well to action and keeping the story clipping along. But it's kind of important to undergirding the 7th book, or at least, I think it is.
They also added an attack that's not in the book, which I find kind of curious - given all they had to cut out, why would they "waste" minutes on something that wasn't originally part of the story? Unless it was an attempt to convey the terror and danger of the times, that no one and no place is really safe (admittedly, you don't get a strong sense of that in the rest of the film).
Not related to the quality of the movie, but rather the quality of the movie-viewing experience: somebody brought their small child with them (like, 3 or 4 years old), who kept talking, loudly, through the first half of the film. I think they finally just left so they would quit annoying the other patrons, but I seriously wonder why on earth they would have brought a child that young to this movie in the first place. Yes, the Harry Potter series was written for children, but the intended audience was 'tweens and older - not toddlers.
People - it's a series about the epic battle between good and evil, and even if you don't know any better because you haven't read the books, the tone turned distinctly darker in the fourth movie (and book), when Voldmort returned in the flesh. The last two movies have seen the death of a Hogwarts student, and of Harry's godfather - you don't think it's going to get even darker before good wins the day? And you think it's appropriate to scare your toddler with this right before bedtime?
Sigh. . .Rich Melheim is so right. . .the world needs more parents raising children, not children raising children (a comment that has everything to do with maturity and nothing to do with age).
Ok, getting off the soapbox now,
C.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Creating a "Culture of We"
I finally watched Michael Moore's SiCKO last week, and have been pondering it ever since. One line stuck out to me in particular, and that was someone in either Canada, Britain, or France (I forget now which place he was in at that point) explaining their nation's openness to nationalized health care by saying, socially, they have a "culture of we" whereas their perception of America is as a "culture of me."
That's very telling, and I would say, accurate, but not necessarily in the way the speaker thinks. As Moore illustrates in the film, for a culture of supposedly rabid individualists, we'll do just about anything for a neighbor in need: buy calendars; make straight-up donations; hold dinners, silent auctions, raffles, community carnivals, etc.
My question is - and has always been - why are we wiling to bend over backwards to raise thousands of dollars which, under our current health care system, makes really only a dent in the medical bills of the seriously ill and/or seriously poor, when we could be taxed an equal amount (or maybe even less than what we do in fundraisers) and everybody would just get the care they need when they need it?
This is where the "culture of me" comes in, I think. It's not that Americans aren't or can't be generous with our money, but we want control of where it goes.
We have a similar problem in the church. If we do a special appeal for a particular project, the money comes in, often much faster than we could ever anticipate (point in fact: we need a new fridge for the kitchen, which we announced the last Sunday in June - we met our fundraising goal this past Sunday, a mere three weeks later). If we would have just purchased the fridge out of general fund monies, it would have set us behind in our bills this summer, because getting folks to give to the general fund is like pulling teeth. I think we run a pretty tight ship, financially speaking, but nevertheless it's like the congregational mindset is not to trust the "institution" to spend their money wisely. But if they can give it themselves directly to a project, cause, or initiative they support, then they fund it very generously.
Extrapolate that now to the country - fiscal conservatives and libertarians are already naturally predisposed to distrust the efficiency and wise management of "big government," and you add to that the "culture of me" that wants to do good that I can personally see the results of and be generous to a beneficiary of my choosing - it's no wonder national health care has such a hard time gaining traction here, even though it's clearly in our best interest.
So here's the million dollar question: how do you take that generous impulse and bend it to create a "culture of we"? Will it only happen after enough people have been severely hurt by the brokenness of our current system? Or is there a way to draw it out of us, proactively, positively, before we get to that point?
That's very telling, and I would say, accurate, but not necessarily in the way the speaker thinks. As Moore illustrates in the film, for a culture of supposedly rabid individualists, we'll do just about anything for a neighbor in need: buy calendars; make straight-up donations; hold dinners, silent auctions, raffles, community carnivals, etc.
My question is - and has always been - why are we wiling to bend over backwards to raise thousands of dollars which, under our current health care system, makes really only a dent in the medical bills of the seriously ill and/or seriously poor, when we could be taxed an equal amount (or maybe even less than what we do in fundraisers) and everybody would just get the care they need when they need it?
This is where the "culture of me" comes in, I think. It's not that Americans aren't or can't be generous with our money, but we want control of where it goes.
We have a similar problem in the church. If we do a special appeal for a particular project, the money comes in, often much faster than we could ever anticipate (point in fact: we need a new fridge for the kitchen, which we announced the last Sunday in June - we met our fundraising goal this past Sunday, a mere three weeks later). If we would have just purchased the fridge out of general fund monies, it would have set us behind in our bills this summer, because getting folks to give to the general fund is like pulling teeth. I think we run a pretty tight ship, financially speaking, but nevertheless it's like the congregational mindset is not to trust the "institution" to spend their money wisely. But if they can give it themselves directly to a project, cause, or initiative they support, then they fund it very generously.
Extrapolate that now to the country - fiscal conservatives and libertarians are already naturally predisposed to distrust the efficiency and wise management of "big government," and you add to that the "culture of me" that wants to do good that I can personally see the results of and be generous to a beneficiary of my choosing - it's no wonder national health care has such a hard time gaining traction here, even though it's clearly in our best interest.
So here's the million dollar question: how do you take that generous impulse and bend it to create a "culture of we"? Will it only happen after enough people have been severely hurt by the brokenness of our current system? Or is there a way to draw it out of us, proactively, positively, before we get to that point?
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
The Audience of One
So yesterday I went to see Year One, and I was the only one in the theater! Granted, this was late Monday afternoon in Selinsgrove, PA, for a movie that's been in wide release for several weeks. But still, I don't think that's ever happened to me before - it was kind of weird, and made me wonder if, had I not been there and purchased a ticket, they would have run the movie to an empty theater anyway, or saved themselves the electricity.
But I digress. . .I knew going in it was supposed to be a crude humor comedy, so I wasn't looking for anything deep, just 90 minutes of mindless chuckles. Unfortunately, I didn't find it to be a particularly amusing or shining example of its genre. It was mostly Jack Black and Michael Cera doing their respective 21st century schticks in a variety of 1st century-esque garb; the majority of the jokes were blown in the previews I had already seen, in fact, the funniest part (to me) was Cain's great escape, which took maybe all of 60 seconds. And there were inexplicable gaping holes in the plot (like a scene where Michael Cera's character is being strangled to death by a large snake, that cuts to Jack Black and Michael Cera back in the village, no harm, no foul, no explanation of how they got away from the snake).
To Harold Ramis' credit, there was some witty dialogue here and there, playing off of sayings or events in the Bible (the whole movie is playing fast and loose with various parts of - and midrashic commentary upon - the first 22 chapters of Genesis). I got that and appreciated it. . .but then later I got to thinking (another unfortunate thing - can't shut my brain down for too long, even when I'm trying): given the general state of Biblical illiteracy in this country, how many people in an average audience would have picked up on those references? In fact, I'm kind of wondering how many people in an average audience would even realize he's using the Bible for source material?
Forbidden fruit, Adam, Cain and Abel, Abraham and Isaac, Sodom and Gomorrah - these are all stories that one would think even the most unchurched of people would be vaguely familiar with. But it's a post-modern, post-Christendom world out there; as a pastor, I can't make any assumptions about the Biblical literacy of the folks sitting in the pews every Sunday, let alone the folks who've never (or rarely) darkened the door of a church, synagogue, or mosque.
Which begs the question: if you don't know the source material the comedian is riffing on - is the joke still funny or relevant? Similarly for the preacher - does the sermon still bear or make meaning, and bring the Word to those who don't know the word?
But I digress. . .I knew going in it was supposed to be a crude humor comedy, so I wasn't looking for anything deep, just 90 minutes of mindless chuckles. Unfortunately, I didn't find it to be a particularly amusing or shining example of its genre. It was mostly Jack Black and Michael Cera doing their respective 21st century schticks in a variety of 1st century-esque garb; the majority of the jokes were blown in the previews I had already seen, in fact, the funniest part (to me) was Cain's great escape, which took maybe all of 60 seconds. And there were inexplicable gaping holes in the plot (like a scene where Michael Cera's character is being strangled to death by a large snake, that cuts to Jack Black and Michael Cera back in the village, no harm, no foul, no explanation of how they got away from the snake).
To Harold Ramis' credit, there was some witty dialogue here and there, playing off of sayings or events in the Bible (the whole movie is playing fast and loose with various parts of - and midrashic commentary upon - the first 22 chapters of Genesis). I got that and appreciated it. . .but then later I got to thinking (another unfortunate thing - can't shut my brain down for too long, even when I'm trying): given the general state of Biblical illiteracy in this country, how many people in an average audience would have picked up on those references? In fact, I'm kind of wondering how many people in an average audience would even realize he's using the Bible for source material?
Forbidden fruit, Adam, Cain and Abel, Abraham and Isaac, Sodom and Gomorrah - these are all stories that one would think even the most unchurched of people would be vaguely familiar with. But it's a post-modern, post-Christendom world out there; as a pastor, I can't make any assumptions about the Biblical literacy of the folks sitting in the pews every Sunday, let alone the folks who've never (or rarely) darkened the door of a church, synagogue, or mosque.
Which begs the question: if you don't know the source material the comedian is riffing on - is the joke still funny or relevant? Similarly for the preacher - does the sermon still bear or make meaning, and bring the Word to those who don't know the word?
Monday, December 15, 2008
Down and Dirty Reviews
Ok, these will be quick, but here's my take on some of the stuff I've been watching and reading of late:
First, a film:
Death at a Funeral
Hilarious dark comedy from Britain. Every pastor should watch this. In fact, every pastor should own this, and watch it to unwind on the day of a funeral with a particularly dysfunctional family. If you've ever had a funeral this nutty - all I can say is, I'm sorry!
Next, some books:
Giving to God: The Bible's Good News about Living a Generous Life by Mark Alan Powell
There was nothing earth-shattering in what Powell had to say here, it's pretty much what I already believe about stewardship, he just says it so much better than I ever could. What I particularly like about his approach is how all-encompassing and how accessible it is. I think it would be a good resource for shattering the paradigms of those who limit their understanding of stewardship to "The money I give to the church." Also nice - each chapter concludes with some good conversation-starting questions, so he clearly intends it to be read and discussed in small groups. I'm thinking about using it with our council this year.
The Good News from North Haven by Michael Lindvall
So I found this little gem at Loome's while I was waiting for them to look over 4 bags of books I was trying to sell. Turned out, they didn't want any of my books, but I still wanted this one, so I came home with more books than I left with - my uncle still gives me crap about that, but I digress. Sort of Woebegone-esque, in this slim volume of short stories we walk through a calendar year with the pastor and congregation of Second Presbyterian Church, in the fictional small town of North Haven, MN (allegedly out west of Mankato). An enjoyable read, and eminently preachable (some of the stories could serve as narrative sermons in themselves).
Testimony: Talking Ourselves into Being Christian by Tom Long
This is one of the books in the practicing our faith series, and is full of great insight on worship, preaching, the hunger for authentic God talk, the interweaving of our episodic narrative with God's grand narrative, and the implications of all that for our every day lives. Very accessible and engaging - read it - you won't regret it.
Coming attractions: a discussion of Australia, which I saw on vacation. Lots to talk about and unpack there, requiring more time than I have tonight. Another day. . .
PS - The weather was gorgeous - and more importantly dry - on Saturday, so I'm happy to report, there is now plenty of crisp krumkaker to last through the holidays! Woot.
First, a film:
Death at a Funeral
Hilarious dark comedy from Britain. Every pastor should watch this. In fact, every pastor should own this, and watch it to unwind on the day of a funeral with a particularly dysfunctional family. If you've ever had a funeral this nutty - all I can say is, I'm sorry!
Next, some books:
Giving to God: The Bible's Good News about Living a Generous Life by Mark Alan Powell
There was nothing earth-shattering in what Powell had to say here, it's pretty much what I already believe about stewardship, he just says it so much better than I ever could. What I particularly like about his approach is how all-encompassing and how accessible it is. I think it would be a good resource for shattering the paradigms of those who limit their understanding of stewardship to "The money I give to the church." Also nice - each chapter concludes with some good conversation-starting questions, so he clearly intends it to be read and discussed in small groups. I'm thinking about using it with our council this year.
The Good News from North Haven by Michael Lindvall
So I found this little gem at Loome's while I was waiting for them to look over 4 bags of books I was trying to sell. Turned out, they didn't want any of my books, but I still wanted this one, so I came home with more books than I left with - my uncle still gives me crap about that, but I digress. Sort of Woebegone-esque, in this slim volume of short stories we walk through a calendar year with the pastor and congregation of Second Presbyterian Church, in the fictional small town of North Haven, MN (allegedly out west of Mankato). An enjoyable read, and eminently preachable (some of the stories could serve as narrative sermons in themselves).
Testimony: Talking Ourselves into Being Christian by Tom Long
This is one of the books in the practicing our faith series, and is full of great insight on worship, preaching, the hunger for authentic God talk, the interweaving of our episodic narrative with God's grand narrative, and the implications of all that for our every day lives. Very accessible and engaging - read it - you won't regret it.
Coming attractions: a discussion of Australia, which I saw on vacation. Lots to talk about and unpack there, requiring more time than I have tonight. Another day. . .
PS - The weather was gorgeous - and more importantly dry - on Saturday, so I'm happy to report, there is now plenty of crisp krumkaker to last through the holidays! Woot.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Burn After Reading
An old college friend on Facebook thought this latest from the Coen Bros was fun but "couldn't decide what it was supposed to be."
I have to disagree. I think the fact that it's kinda hard to tell what the point of the movie is, is exactly the movie's point. In that sense, it's a cinematic exegesis of Quoheleth (aka Ecclesiastes).
To a world full of folks looking for their 15 minutes of fame and/or their big jackpot moment, the movie says "All is vanity." To a world fixated on a certain standard of superficial beauty, the movie says "this too is a chasing after wind." To a world overrun with both excessively revealing navel gazers and obsessively voyeuristic surveilance, the movie says "there is nothing new under the sun" - for as much hoopla as we make of them, really, our lives are not that fascinating, and all that we consume ourselves worrying about is ultimately in vain.
Once again, the brothers Coen masterfully portray how the effects of sin continue to ripple out through our lives and the lives of others, how one bad choice can suddenly trap you into a series of even more bad choices. Truly, Joel and Ethan are theologians trapped in filmmakers bodies! :)
So, I liked it. Thumbs up.
I have to disagree. I think the fact that it's kinda hard to tell what the point of the movie is, is exactly the movie's point. In that sense, it's a cinematic exegesis of Quoheleth (aka Ecclesiastes).
To a world full of folks looking for their 15 minutes of fame and/or their big jackpot moment, the movie says "All is vanity." To a world fixated on a certain standard of superficial beauty, the movie says "this too is a chasing after wind." To a world overrun with both excessively revealing navel gazers and obsessively voyeuristic surveilance, the movie says "there is nothing new under the sun" - for as much hoopla as we make of them, really, our lives are not that fascinating, and all that we consume ourselves worrying about is ultimately in vain.
Once again, the brothers Coen masterfully portray how the effects of sin continue to ripple out through our lives and the lives of others, how one bad choice can suddenly trap you into a series of even more bad choices. Truly, Joel and Ethan are theologians trapped in filmmakers bodies! :)
So, I liked it. Thumbs up.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Lars and the Real Girl
Friday night Breen and Patrick came up to celebrate my birthday a little early - we had dinner and went to a Van Wagner concert. I somehow had the impression it was going to be a regular concert, but it was a fundraiser for the Lewisburg class of 2010 prom and senior trip, being held at the middle school gym. Basically it was a bunch of high schoolers flocking up around the stage, while 30 feet back, B, P, and I sat in folding chairs with the parents of the high schoolers, serving as unofficial chaperones. So, the venue was unusual (we usually listen to Van at the Selin's Grove Brewery), which put a bit of an absurdist spin on the evening. But the music was still excellent, and we also got to hear Robert's (teen from church) band, which was the opening act (and was quite good!).
Given the crowd, the concert finished a lot earlier than expected, and the night was still young, so we picked up a movie: Lars and the Real Girl. This is my new favorite movie - so well written, so well acted, so well put together all around (I'm now firmly of the opinion it should have won the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay over Juno). Double bonus points for taking place in northern Wisconsin during winter, and featuring a positive portrayal of Lutherans (how many movies can you say that about?!)
Lars is an incredibly shy and socially awkward fellow, so much so that he gets flummoxed even around his brother and sister-in-law. He ends up ordering a "real girl" - a silicone sex doll named Bianca - and is of the delusional opinion that she is real. He talks to her and believes she talks back to him, creates a whole life story for her, and considers her his girlfriend (though they are both very religious, so she sleeps in his brother's house). Bianca functions as a buffer for Lars' shyness, and becomes a conduit through which he begins engaging the people around him. Lars' church and community indulge him in the delusion and treat Bianca like a real person because they see how it is drawing him out and helping him to mature.
That's all I'll say, so that I don't ruin the details and full plot if you haven't yet seen it. But you really should - it's poignant and funny in an absurd and imaginative kind of way, while avoiding tempations to become melodramatic or crass. And it's a beautiful portrayal of how the small town and/or small church cares for its eccentrics - not that everyone does it perfectly or manages it all the time, not that the eccentric doesn't still irritate or creep people out sometimes, but on the whole, there is an abundant and benevolent grace that watches out for those on the fringes - I've seen it time and again in the city, in the suburbs, and in the country; in the Midwest, on the West coast, and right here in PA. Would that we'd have that kind of patience and generosity with all people at all times.
I do have to say, both Breen and my liturgical nerdiness came out during the church scenes, as their hymnals were not the familiar green LBWs. They looked like the new cranberry ELWs to me, but Breen thought they looked more red, like the old SBH. See, confusion like this is why Hollywood needs to hire me as their resident expert on Lutheranism. Heck, I don't want to deal with the traffic in LA, so I don't need to be a resident, I'll telecommute. And I'll even research and serve as a consultant for nitpicky details regarding other traditions at no extra charge. All I ask is a modest salary and the chance to go to a few premieres a year. . .come on Hollywood, you can't afford to pass this fantastic opportunity up!
Peace,
C.
PS - The good thing about all that time spent downloading stuff last week is that the updated Safari interfaces much better with Blogger (I can now put things in italics!). As I have time, I'll try to spruce up older entries written when I lacked such capabilities.
Given the crowd, the concert finished a lot earlier than expected, and the night was still young, so we picked up a movie: Lars and the Real Girl. This is my new favorite movie - so well written, so well acted, so well put together all around (I'm now firmly of the opinion it should have won the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay over Juno). Double bonus points for taking place in northern Wisconsin during winter, and featuring a positive portrayal of Lutherans (how many movies can you say that about?!)
Lars is an incredibly shy and socially awkward fellow, so much so that he gets flummoxed even around his brother and sister-in-law. He ends up ordering a "real girl" - a silicone sex doll named Bianca - and is of the delusional opinion that she is real. He talks to her and believes she talks back to him, creates a whole life story for her, and considers her his girlfriend (though they are both very religious, so she sleeps in his brother's house). Bianca functions as a buffer for Lars' shyness, and becomes a conduit through which he begins engaging the people around him. Lars' church and community indulge him in the delusion and treat Bianca like a real person because they see how it is drawing him out and helping him to mature.
That's all I'll say, so that I don't ruin the details and full plot if you haven't yet seen it. But you really should - it's poignant and funny in an absurd and imaginative kind of way, while avoiding tempations to become melodramatic or crass. And it's a beautiful portrayal of how the small town and/or small church cares for its eccentrics - not that everyone does it perfectly or manages it all the time, not that the eccentric doesn't still irritate or creep people out sometimes, but on the whole, there is an abundant and benevolent grace that watches out for those on the fringes - I've seen it time and again in the city, in the suburbs, and in the country; in the Midwest, on the West coast, and right here in PA. Would that we'd have that kind of patience and generosity with all people at all times.
I do have to say, both Breen and my liturgical nerdiness came out during the church scenes, as their hymnals were not the familiar green LBWs. They looked like the new cranberry ELWs to me, but Breen thought they looked more red, like the old SBH. See, confusion like this is why Hollywood needs to hire me as their resident expert on Lutheranism. Heck, I don't want to deal with the traffic in LA, so I don't need to be a resident, I'll telecommute. And I'll even research and serve as a consultant for nitpicky details regarding other traditions at no extra charge. All I ask is a modest salary and the chance to go to a few premieres a year. . .come on Hollywood, you can't afford to pass this fantastic opportunity up!
Peace,
C.
PS - The good thing about all that time spent downloading stuff last week is that the updated Safari interfaces much better with Blogger (I can now put things in italics!). As I have time, I'll try to spruce up older entries written when I lacked such capabilities.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Good Reads
The Open Space of Democracy by Terry Tempest Williams. A collection of essays originally published in Orion, accompanied by some beautiful paintings by Mary Frank. I found the third essay, "Engagement," the most compelling. In it, Williams documents and reflects upon her own town's formation into true community in the face of shared crisis. Beautiful writing and beautiful truth-telling of the lived experience of democracy and its power to shape and unite us in spite of the forces that would divide.
A sampling: "In my private moments of despair, I am aware of the limits of my own imagination. I am learning in Castle Valley that imaginations shared invite collaboration and collaboration creates community. A life in association, not a life independent, is the democratic ideal. We participate in the vitality of the struggle. This has not been easy for a town of self-defined renegades and recluses. Disagreements behind closed doors has been common. . .We are all having to move beyond what is comfortable. Patience is stretched. Personalities get in the way. Egos provide points of obstructions. It is never easy. We are learning to listen. We are learning to forgive. We are learning to go forward, believing what binds us together as a community is stronger than individual bickering points. And we are having a great time."
She's speaking of civic communities, but I think her words ring as true for and are as applicable to communities of faith.
Incidentally, take time to read the notes at the end - not merely citations, some are detailed stories or reflections in themselves. One (in which Tempest Williams deduces that Fellini was simply a documentarian!) recounts a sumptuous meal she and her husband were invited to while living in Italy - it's like something out of Babette's Feast, but the power to build community around a communal table is just as potent in real life as in fiction.
The other book I just finished is Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis, which is an excellent contemporary apologetic. Bell has a real gift for analogy and metaphor, for making all this faith and discipleship stuff come alive in a genuine and relatable way. AND he's got some paritcularly great things to say about the Bible - how its story is our story, and it's a story that isn't over, a story that's living and active, a story that reads us as much as we read it, a story we're called to engage and wrestle, a gem that we need to keep turning because every turn reveals something new. He never puts it in these terms, but I hear him saying, essentially, that the Bible is a living immersive story world, and I whole-heartedly concur.
For my pastor friends, "Movement Four: Tassels", also has some insightful things to say about the pressures of the life of ministry, and the damage many of us do to our own souls in our attempts to be "superpastor."
Finally, I also happened to watch Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium last night, and highly recommend it. It's just a fun movie in itself, but would also make a good discussion piece for church. It tells the story of one's ending and another's beginning, of a doubtful "disciple" who is called to use their own gifts to carry on the work of the "master" (which, serendipitously, fits well with some of the reflections on discipleship I was reading in Bell's book today).
Peace,
Catrina
A sampling: "In my private moments of despair, I am aware of the limits of my own imagination. I am learning in Castle Valley that imaginations shared invite collaboration and collaboration creates community. A life in association, not a life independent, is the democratic ideal. We participate in the vitality of the struggle. This has not been easy for a town of self-defined renegades and recluses. Disagreements behind closed doors has been common. . .We are all having to move beyond what is comfortable. Patience is stretched. Personalities get in the way. Egos provide points of obstructions. It is never easy. We are learning to listen. We are learning to forgive. We are learning to go forward, believing what binds us together as a community is stronger than individual bickering points. And we are having a great time."
She's speaking of civic communities, but I think her words ring as true for and are as applicable to communities of faith.
Incidentally, take time to read the notes at the end - not merely citations, some are detailed stories or reflections in themselves. One (in which Tempest Williams deduces that Fellini was simply a documentarian!) recounts a sumptuous meal she and her husband were invited to while living in Italy - it's like something out of Babette's Feast, but the power to build community around a communal table is just as potent in real life as in fiction.
The other book I just finished is Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis, which is an excellent contemporary apologetic. Bell has a real gift for analogy and metaphor, for making all this faith and discipleship stuff come alive in a genuine and relatable way. AND he's got some paritcularly great things to say about the Bible - how its story is our story, and it's a story that isn't over, a story that's living and active, a story that reads us as much as we read it, a story we're called to engage and wrestle, a gem that we need to keep turning because every turn reveals something new. He never puts it in these terms, but I hear him saying, essentially, that the Bible is a living immersive story world, and I whole-heartedly concur.
For my pastor friends, "Movement Four: Tassels", also has some insightful things to say about the pressures of the life of ministry, and the damage many of us do to our own souls in our attempts to be "superpastor."
Finally, I also happened to watch Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium last night, and highly recommend it. It's just a fun movie in itself, but would also make a good discussion piece for church. It tells the story of one's ending and another's beginning, of a doubtful "disciple" who is called to use their own gifts to carry on the work of the "master" (which, serendipitously, fits well with some of the reflections on discipleship I was reading in Bell's book today).
Peace,
Catrina
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Paris Je T'aime, Once
A rash of bad weather that cancelled both Chorale rehearsal on Tuesday and Lenten Wednesday night activities at the church left me with not one, but count 'em, TWO free evenings in a row (normally unheard of this time of year!). I took this blessing as an opportunity to watch more movies (what else are you gonna do when everything is iced over?).
On Tuesday I watched Paris Je T'aime, an incredible little concept film where many famous directors were each assigned a different arrondissement, then asked to write and direct a five minute love story that takes place in that section of Paris (and they each had only two days to shoot their short film). Some of the stories were rather bizarre, some quite poignant, some had a surprising twist at the end - it was fascinating to see what each director chose to do both in terms of content and style, and the overall film had a rather Altman-esque flavor to it. Huge thumbs up, though word to the wise, if you don't speak French, you need to turn on the subtitle function - the subtitles didn't pop up automatically (perhaps because the dialogue throughout is a mixture of English and French?).
Then last night I watched Once, another independent film that flew under most people's radars, but is also highly worth experiencing. It traces the story of a couple of heartbroken musicians who are sort of stuck in their lives, each in their own way. What begins as a chance encounter on the streets of Dublin blossoms into a beautiful friendship and creative musical partnership, with each acting as a catalyst for change in the other's life, helping them both to get unstuck, as it were. The music is a powerful presence in the film (to the point you might call it the third leading character), and most of it was actually written by the two leads (Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova), who are songwriters, musicians, and friends in real life. It's gorgeous stuff, so now I'm coveting the soundtrack. . .big thumbs up for this one as well.
On Tuesday I watched Paris Je T'aime, an incredible little concept film where many famous directors were each assigned a different arrondissement, then asked to write and direct a five minute love story that takes place in that section of Paris (and they each had only two days to shoot their short film). Some of the stories were rather bizarre, some quite poignant, some had a surprising twist at the end - it was fascinating to see what each director chose to do both in terms of content and style, and the overall film had a rather Altman-esque flavor to it. Huge thumbs up, though word to the wise, if you don't speak French, you need to turn on the subtitle function - the subtitles didn't pop up automatically (perhaps because the dialogue throughout is a mixture of English and French?).
Then last night I watched Once, another independent film that flew under most people's radars, but is also highly worth experiencing. It traces the story of a couple of heartbroken musicians who are sort of stuck in their lives, each in their own way. What begins as a chance encounter on the streets of Dublin blossoms into a beautiful friendship and creative musical partnership, with each acting as a catalyst for change in the other's life, helping them both to get unstuck, as it were. The music is a powerful presence in the film (to the point you might call it the third leading character), and most of it was actually written by the two leads (Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova), who are songwriters, musicians, and friends in real life. It's gorgeous stuff, so now I'm coveting the soundtrack. . .big thumbs up for this one as well.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Atonement
I just saw Atonement at The Campus, and, WOW - it is beautifully and brilliantly filmed, powerfully scored - if you haven't yet seen it, you need to. Soon. I feel like I need to watch it again, just because it was so rich in imagery and language and symbolism - I'm sure I'll pick up more with repeated viewings.
But tonight I'll attempt to process a bit of the first time through. If you haven't seen it yet, and you don't like knowing anything about movies before you see them, quit reading now.
I'm serious, I'm going to talk in some detail about the film - don't say you weren't warned. . .
Where to begin? It's a tragedy, but it's a very odd sort of tragedy, for Briony's tragic flaw is her wild imagination, which sets off a chain of events that brings those around her down in typical tragic fashion, and it brings Briony down, in a sense, but not in the typical tragic fashion, for she has lived to tell the tale, and the survivor's guilt obviously weighs on her, there has been a "death" of the old Briony in that sense, but the tragic flaw didn't kill her outright as it normally does, and in fact, the untold story is that the tragic flaw is also the source of her comedy, of her rising, as we find out in the end that she is a successful writer. A haunted, yet successful, writer.
There is also a lot of playing with the truth in this story - this is a film of brutal honesty and brutal dishonesty. . .the whole tragic turn of events is set off by Briony's unreliable narration in the beginning, and it comes full circle as we discover that Briony is just as unreliable a narrator in the end - and yet, the story that plays in between is brutally honest as to the consequences of her dishonesty. It minces no words or images as to the grotesqueness of war, of separation, of estrangement. And Briony is at least fully honest about her dishonesty, both times, in the end.
Her dishonesty in the end is her attempt at atonement, of making the amends she was unable to make in her life, giving her sister Cecelia and C's paramour Robbie the happiness which they longed for, which she stole from them with her original dishonesty, by reuniting them and apologizing to them in the context of her final, autobiographical, piece of fiction. I would say this is Briony's attempt to redeem her story and her error, normally I would use the terms redemption and atonement rather interchangably, and yet, in the film it is clear, there is no redemption here, there was no resolution to the pain Briony has caused, there is only her atonement for what she has done, only this small gesture of kindness, offered too late in one sense, though offered before it's too late in another (before a condition that will cause her inevitable mental demise robs her completely of the memory).
Here again, the interplay of the tragedy and the comedy is fascinating, for it was through Briony's tragic flaw that Cecelia and Robbie met their deaths, and yet through this same imagination, in the end, she gives them life - in telling their story, their love lives on, their story continues every time it is read or told.
There is some rich religious imagery in the movie as well - some significant scenes involving immersion in water, as well as a confessional scene and a footwashing that are somewhat surreal oasis' in the midst of the brutal honesty - in retrospect, I'm thinking these latter two in particular are more of Briony's imaginative embellishments, but I'd need to go back and watch again to process what they might mean in the larger story.
Well, I think that's about as much traction as I'm going to get on this film tonight. If anyone else has seen it, comment or send me an e-mail, I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Peace,
Catrina
But tonight I'll attempt to process a bit of the first time through. If you haven't seen it yet, and you don't like knowing anything about movies before you see them, quit reading now.
I'm serious, I'm going to talk in some detail about the film - don't say you weren't warned. . .
Where to begin? It's a tragedy, but it's a very odd sort of tragedy, for Briony's tragic flaw is her wild imagination, which sets off a chain of events that brings those around her down in typical tragic fashion, and it brings Briony down, in a sense, but not in the typical tragic fashion, for she has lived to tell the tale, and the survivor's guilt obviously weighs on her, there has been a "death" of the old Briony in that sense, but the tragic flaw didn't kill her outright as it normally does, and in fact, the untold story is that the tragic flaw is also the source of her comedy, of her rising, as we find out in the end that she is a successful writer. A haunted, yet successful, writer.
There is also a lot of playing with the truth in this story - this is a film of brutal honesty and brutal dishonesty. . .the whole tragic turn of events is set off by Briony's unreliable narration in the beginning, and it comes full circle as we discover that Briony is just as unreliable a narrator in the end - and yet, the story that plays in between is brutally honest as to the consequences of her dishonesty. It minces no words or images as to the grotesqueness of war, of separation, of estrangement. And Briony is at least fully honest about her dishonesty, both times, in the end.
Her dishonesty in the end is her attempt at atonement, of making the amends she was unable to make in her life, giving her sister Cecelia and C's paramour Robbie the happiness which they longed for, which she stole from them with her original dishonesty, by reuniting them and apologizing to them in the context of her final, autobiographical, piece of fiction. I would say this is Briony's attempt to redeem her story and her error, normally I would use the terms redemption and atonement rather interchangably, and yet, in the film it is clear, there is no redemption here, there was no resolution to the pain Briony has caused, there is only her atonement for what she has done, only this small gesture of kindness, offered too late in one sense, though offered before it's too late in another (before a condition that will cause her inevitable mental demise robs her completely of the memory).
Here again, the interplay of the tragedy and the comedy is fascinating, for it was through Briony's tragic flaw that Cecelia and Robbie met their deaths, and yet through this same imagination, in the end, she gives them life - in telling their story, their love lives on, their story continues every time it is read or told.
There is some rich religious imagery in the movie as well - some significant scenes involving immersion in water, as well as a confessional scene and a footwashing that are somewhat surreal oasis' in the midst of the brutal honesty - in retrospect, I'm thinking these latter two in particular are more of Briony's imaginative embellishments, but I'd need to go back and watch again to process what they might mean in the larger story.
Well, I think that's about as much traction as I'm going to get on this film tonight. If anyone else has seen it, comment or send me an e-mail, I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Peace,
Catrina
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Write What You Know
There's an old adage that is oft spoken to new writers: write what you know. It's what all the best authors have always done - a story grounded in one's own experience gives it an air of authenticity that can make even the most seemingly mundane moments of life, moments of a narrative, sparkle.
I've seen two movies in the past two days that have made the truth and the wisdom of that statement almost painfully obvious. The first movie was Aurora Borealis. It was actually written by a guy from my hometown, and a main part of the plot is about losing a grandpa to Parkinson's and dementia, so it hit close to home on two counts, and I've been wanting to see it ever since my grandma sent me the article from our hometown paper interviewing the screenwriter, Brent Boyd.
Overall I thought the movie was pretty good - solid script, well-cast, well-framed, with some beautiful shots of the Cities. It was a story about growing up, coping with loss, being pushed outside yor comfort zone, taking responsibility for yourself and others. Duncan (the lead) is chronically unemployed, has been piddling his life away since his dad died ten years ago. Though his life is not perfect (constantly losing jobs, his successful yet philandering brother always borrowing his apartment for rendevous' with the mistress), there's a certain level of comfort and realibility to the places he inhabits and the people he inhabits them with. The growing up is precipitated by his spending more time with grandma and grandpa (who is daily losing ground to Parkinson's and dementia), and falling in love with grandpa's home health care nurse.
There are two geographical details that I'd quibble with: first, there's no way the grandparent's apartment could have THAT view of the Minneapolis skyline AND a view of the St. Paul skyline (a couple times, characters in the movie claim that it does); second, it is highly unlikely that people living that close to downtown would drive all the way to the Mall of America to do their Christmas shopping (though I realize the MOA is probably more recognizable to a national audience, and a more lucrative "product placement" than, say, City Center or Nicollet Mall). But, unless they have a highly attuned sense of the geography of the place, the average viewer isn't even going to pick up on that.
What the movie did very well - to the point that I have been feeling kinda homesick ever since watching it - was capture the essence of life in Minnesota, even down to nuances, like the fact that people who live in Minneapolis don't often venture across the river into St. Paul, and vice versa. Brent Boyd took a people and a place that he knew, that he understood very well, and he wrote a beautiful story about them - a story not uncritical of them - but a beautiful, authentic story all the same.
The movie I watched today was called Searching for Bobby D. It was a comedy about four actors from Brooklyn who are sick of being typecast in bit background parts, so they set off to make a movie of their own script, starring themselves. Through various connections, they get a meeting with Robert DeNiro's production partner, who is willing to look at the script, but says they have to raise at least $500,000 to make a decent indie movie. The lead's cousin moved to the Poconos and claims he's got a rich investor who will front the money for the movie - so the four actors take off for PA to raise the funds. Let the hilarity ensue. . .
Except, that it really wasn't that funny. I mean, I realize it was meant to be a stupid comedy, so capturing the nuances of life in rural Pennsylvania was not exactly their top priority. But every character from PA was so two-dimensional - the vast majority were portrayed as dumb hicks, and half of them spoke with Southern accents (hello! we are ABOVE the Mason-Dixon line! there IS a distinct accent and speech pattern in rural PA, but it sounds nothing like a southern drawl)!
It felt completely like a parade of a New Yorker's worst stereotypes of rural people, which was ironic considering the plot-driving goal was for the characters to prove that Itailian-Americans and African-Americans are more than just goombas and thugs. I did try to give them the benefit of the doubt for a while, thinking that maybe this is a really sarcastic commentary on stereotypes in the movies (they do have a scene where they play into their worst sterotypes in order to raise some of the funds) - but then I realized, no, this movie is not that deep.
So, a thumbs up to Aurora Borealis, and a disappointed thumbs down to Searching for Bobby D. And screenwriters, please, for the love of all that is good and true in this world - write what you know. And if you're going to write what you know nothing about, please, at least put a little effort into some research, and don't write your most shallow stereotypes into the script. Is that too much for this humble country paisan to ask?
Peace,
Catrina
I've seen two movies in the past two days that have made the truth and the wisdom of that statement almost painfully obvious. The first movie was Aurora Borealis. It was actually written by a guy from my hometown, and a main part of the plot is about losing a grandpa to Parkinson's and dementia, so it hit close to home on two counts, and I've been wanting to see it ever since my grandma sent me the article from our hometown paper interviewing the screenwriter, Brent Boyd.
Overall I thought the movie was pretty good - solid script, well-cast, well-framed, with some beautiful shots of the Cities. It was a story about growing up, coping with loss, being pushed outside yor comfort zone, taking responsibility for yourself and others. Duncan (the lead) is chronically unemployed, has been piddling his life away since his dad died ten years ago. Though his life is not perfect (constantly losing jobs, his successful yet philandering brother always borrowing his apartment for rendevous' with the mistress), there's a certain level of comfort and realibility to the places he inhabits and the people he inhabits them with. The growing up is precipitated by his spending more time with grandma and grandpa (who is daily losing ground to Parkinson's and dementia), and falling in love with grandpa's home health care nurse.
There are two geographical details that I'd quibble with: first, there's no way the grandparent's apartment could have THAT view of the Minneapolis skyline AND a view of the St. Paul skyline (a couple times, characters in the movie claim that it does); second, it is highly unlikely that people living that close to downtown would drive all the way to the Mall of America to do their Christmas shopping (though I realize the MOA is probably more recognizable to a national audience, and a more lucrative "product placement" than, say, City Center or Nicollet Mall). But, unless they have a highly attuned sense of the geography of the place, the average viewer isn't even going to pick up on that.
What the movie did very well - to the point that I have been feeling kinda homesick ever since watching it - was capture the essence of life in Minnesota, even down to nuances, like the fact that people who live in Minneapolis don't often venture across the river into St. Paul, and vice versa. Brent Boyd took a people and a place that he knew, that he understood very well, and he wrote a beautiful story about them - a story not uncritical of them - but a beautiful, authentic story all the same.
The movie I watched today was called Searching for Bobby D. It was a comedy about four actors from Brooklyn who are sick of being typecast in bit background parts, so they set off to make a movie of their own script, starring themselves. Through various connections, they get a meeting with Robert DeNiro's production partner, who is willing to look at the script, but says they have to raise at least $500,000 to make a decent indie movie. The lead's cousin moved to the Poconos and claims he's got a rich investor who will front the money for the movie - so the four actors take off for PA to raise the funds. Let the hilarity ensue. . .
Except, that it really wasn't that funny. I mean, I realize it was meant to be a stupid comedy, so capturing the nuances of life in rural Pennsylvania was not exactly their top priority. But every character from PA was so two-dimensional - the vast majority were portrayed as dumb hicks, and half of them spoke with Southern accents (hello! we are ABOVE the Mason-Dixon line! there IS a distinct accent and speech pattern in rural PA, but it sounds nothing like a southern drawl)!
It felt completely like a parade of a New Yorker's worst stereotypes of rural people, which was ironic considering the plot-driving goal was for the characters to prove that Itailian-Americans and African-Americans are more than just goombas and thugs. I did try to give them the benefit of the doubt for a while, thinking that maybe this is a really sarcastic commentary on stereotypes in the movies (they do have a scene where they play into their worst sterotypes in order to raise some of the funds) - but then I realized, no, this movie is not that deep.
So, a thumbs up to Aurora Borealis, and a disappointed thumbs down to Searching for Bobby D. And screenwriters, please, for the love of all that is good and true in this world - write what you know. And if you're going to write what you know nothing about, please, at least put a little effort into some research, and don't write your most shallow stereotypes into the script. Is that too much for this humble country paisan to ask?
Peace,
Catrina
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