There is a long-standing relationship between dreams and change for mankind. Dreaming is portentous in Judeo-Christian culture, Native American culture, ancient Greek and Egyptian cultures, the Aboriginals…the list goes on. Our relationship with dreaming and the search for meaning within our dreams is older than civilization itself.
What if technology could enable us to manipulate dreams? Would even the future then be within our control? This is the question that “Inception” dares to ask. But like all good questions, this question leads to an explosion of other questions not the least of which is - As we can control reality through technology does technology itself have us more and more under its control?
We learned from McCluhan that with every new medium of communication there is change in the possibility of the messages sent; what would happen to dreaming itself if we could control it? Is there a point in which a dream could have no more personal significance then a text message?
Because "Inception" is a movie about dreaming it poses questions tacitly. By being a medium for the depiction of both reality and dreams, the movie itself begs comparison to a shared dream. Because its depiction places dreams and reality on different levels it can depict levels of dreaming, the way we can wake from a dream only to find ourselves still dreaming. But if we can share the dream with other people, how is it not a reality and further perhaps a more preferable one (see Accidental Critic Classic The Purple Rose of Cairo)?
But in reality we are asleep when we dream. And in reality technology makes dreams come true. “Inception” asks as we live the dreams of technology might we be asleep on our feet?
At one point in the movie, our hero (played by Leonardo DiCaprio) draws a diagram to show that what makes dreaming so alluring to a creator is that you can make a reality as fast as its enjoyment. There is no gap between idea, design and production.
For the creator the temptation is to never stop dreaming. It begs the question - In what sense is reality ever preferable? Indeed the end of the movie leaves you wondering (in more ways than one).
But ask yourself - Should you watch a movie where the hero’s job is to manipulate someone’s dreams and thereby their thoughts and perhaps their destiny?
Yes, you should. Moral ambiguity always seems to come with developments in technology. Wake up.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Unthinkable, Legion, and The Book of Eli
In June these three religious movies became available to rent. We watched them separately, but found that it was interesting to think about the three of them together. We should preface this with the fact that (being Christians) we thought about these movies from a Christian perspective.
All of them keep Jesus out of it, even though two of them think biblically. In Unthinkable the government confronts radical Islam but thanks to its secular mindset, it is unable to successfully understand its opponent. Both Legion and The Book of Eli are capable of imagining angels and prophets as the proper subject of movies, provided these holy beings operate as if the son of God did not and will not be present on the earth. The movies are entertaining and worth thinking about, although The Book of Eli is decidedly better.
Legion proposes the preposterous notion that God has changed his mind: In lieu of sending Christ down to bring an end to the age and usher in a far better one, he is sending his angels to destroy mankind. The field general of angels, Michael, thinks God has erred and rebels. He does his darnedest to keep a specific, single, expectant mother alive because her child can supposedly lead mankind back into God's good graces.
We are reminded of Moses' efforts to bargain with God to keep him from destroying all of the Hebrews wandering the desert. Moses argues that keeping the woebegone Hebrews alive and getting them to the promised land is far better public relations than choosing yet another people to be His. God 'relents'. Of course, it is not clear whether God is only zooming Moses when he threatens the eradication of the Hebrews. If that were the case, than the threat of extermination would have been a test to see whether Moses truly loved his thoroughly lost people.
If God is testing Michael in Legion, it is rather a more expensive test in lives than the test of Job. And it would seem that after such a long time God would already know what he had in Michael... But it is a good tale, so long as you forget about Jesus - which does seem to be the basic agenda of this century.
In the Book of Eli the apocalyptic scenario does not seem to be anything out of Revelations either. A man who has no business finding the last remaining copy of the Bible protects it against all odds in a decades long trek across the country teaching people to pray and look out for one another while dispensing God's judgment on evildoers. Take Elijah and set him in a samurai movie and you will have the idea. It is spellbinding and captures the spirit of the old Testament well (particularly with its twist at the end).
Both Legion and The Book of Eli work out the implications of the New Testament. Both Michael and Eli, each in their own way, emulate Christ, which is the task of all Christians. But acting like a Christ in an apocalyptic future is one thing, how about emulating Christ now?
Nobody in Unthinkable is capable of such emulation. The radical Islamist is capable of sacrificing himself for his holy cause (to bring US troops out of the Middle East), but he is also content with the destruction of millions of his former citizens, i.e., Americans. As one would guess, agents of the government are willing to do the 'unthinkable' in order to thwart his plans (but he outwits them in the end).
When the most humane of his captors reminds him of freedom, our terrorist, a former special forces man, tells her that freedom is a false god. No one has a response for this. And it is an assertion that should give us pause. It is Islamist to find the advocacy of freedom to be a form of idolatry, a violation of the first commandment. This is not the case for Christians. Jesus, is often asking people who they think he is, and makes it clear that their deciding that he is the son of God is pivotal to their salvation. They have to be free to make such a decision. Indeed, in Christian doctrine our being cast from the Garden insures us of the freedom we demonstrated when we ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
But in the face of radical Islam how should Christians be emulating Christ? By doing the unthinkable or by being willing to ask the pivotal question Christ asked..."And who do you think I am?"
All of them keep Jesus out of it, even though two of them think biblically. In Unthinkable the government confronts radical Islam but thanks to its secular mindset, it is unable to successfully understand its opponent. Both Legion and The Book of Eli are capable of imagining angels and prophets as the proper subject of movies, provided these holy beings operate as if the son of God did not and will not be present on the earth. The movies are entertaining and worth thinking about, although The Book of Eli is decidedly better.
Legion proposes the preposterous notion that God has changed his mind: In lieu of sending Christ down to bring an end to the age and usher in a far better one, he is sending his angels to destroy mankind. The field general of angels, Michael, thinks God has erred and rebels. He does his darnedest to keep a specific, single, expectant mother alive because her child can supposedly lead mankind back into God's good graces.
We are reminded of Moses' efforts to bargain with God to keep him from destroying all of the Hebrews wandering the desert. Moses argues that keeping the woebegone Hebrews alive and getting them to the promised land is far better public relations than choosing yet another people to be His. God 'relents'. Of course, it is not clear whether God is only zooming Moses when he threatens the eradication of the Hebrews. If that were the case, than the threat of extermination would have been a test to see whether Moses truly loved his thoroughly lost people.
If God is testing Michael in Legion, it is rather a more expensive test in lives than the test of Job. And it would seem that after such a long time God would already know what he had in Michael... But it is a good tale, so long as you forget about Jesus - which does seem to be the basic agenda of this century.
In the Book of Eli the apocalyptic scenario does not seem to be anything out of Revelations either. A man who has no business finding the last remaining copy of the Bible protects it against all odds in a decades long trek across the country teaching people to pray and look out for one another while dispensing God's judgment on evildoers. Take Elijah and set him in a samurai movie and you will have the idea. It is spellbinding and captures the spirit of the old Testament well (particularly with its twist at the end).
Both Legion and The Book of Eli work out the implications of the New Testament. Both Michael and Eli, each in their own way, emulate Christ, which is the task of all Christians. But acting like a Christ in an apocalyptic future is one thing, how about emulating Christ now?
Nobody in Unthinkable is capable of such emulation. The radical Islamist is capable of sacrificing himself for his holy cause (to bring US troops out of the Middle East), but he is also content with the destruction of millions of his former citizens, i.e., Americans. As one would guess, agents of the government are willing to do the 'unthinkable' in order to thwart his plans (but he outwits them in the end).
When the most humane of his captors reminds him of freedom, our terrorist, a former special forces man, tells her that freedom is a false god. No one has a response for this. And it is an assertion that should give us pause. It is Islamist to find the advocacy of freedom to be a form of idolatry, a violation of the first commandment. This is not the case for Christians. Jesus, is often asking people who they think he is, and makes it clear that their deciding that he is the son of God is pivotal to their salvation. They have to be free to make such a decision. Indeed, in Christian doctrine our being cast from the Garden insures us of the freedom we demonstrated when we ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
But in the face of radical Islam how should Christians be emulating Christ? By doing the unthinkable or by being willing to ask the pivotal question Christ asked..."And who do you think I am?"
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Manhattan Murder Mystery
First, we have an announcement to make…
The next few movies we write about will be ones that are dear to us and conjure up romance in honor of our Wedding Anniversary which we plan to celebrate all weekend :).
So here’s the first – Woody Allen’s Manhattan Murder Mystery. Those who know me may be surprised to know that this is really my favorite Woody Allen movie. Or maybe that’s not so surprising – you tell me. While the critics actually liked it, it is not a “critic’s favorite” among Allen’s work, nor was it commercially successful, nor is it the intellectual feast that is The Purple Rose of Cairo (an Accidental Critic Classic). Maybe this is my favorite Woody Allen film simply because it portrays Woody Allen’s best side if not the best of his work.
The movie features Allen’s ultimate love and greatest character, Manhattan. In it we meet a middle-aged Manhattanite couple living in a high rise apartment. Comedy ensues when Carol (played by Diane Keaton) starts to suspect an elderly neighbor of murdering his wife. Carol’s husband (played by Allen) ends up joining in her amateur sleuthing to keep his marriage alive. What follows is really just a light-hearted series of events that swirl around a true mystery in an old fashioned whodunit style. In the end, our Manhattanites find a bit of spontaneity and adventure to rekindle their romance. No gripping dialogue or tortured souls…though the movie does deliver one of my favorite movie lines ever – “I can’t listen to too much Vagner, it makes me want to conquer Poland.”
To me, this movie is simply the height of a good, entertaining movie that somehow manages to make you feel good (even with a murder lurking in the plot). And maybe that was not only Allen’s intent for his audience, but something he was trying to achieve for himself at the time. This movie was released in 1993 at the height of Allen’s divorce from Mia Farrow and the ensuing public drama and legal battle associated with his “child bride” (in fact, Keaton’s role was originally written for Farrow). In a recent interview, Allen talked about how movies for him have always been an escape, an oasis from the “terror of the universe”. This movie certainly offers that as it effortlessly transports you for a couple hours.
One interesting thing to note as you are enjoying this film is that it contains a small shout-out to Orson Wells in a scene where the characters face off in a “hall of mirrors” while an Orson Wells movie plays in the background. Wells’ movies contemplate evil while here Allen seems to be intent on not facing it directly.
Honestly, I don’t think this movie truly rose to the top for me until I watched it again this weekend, snuggled up with my husband (who really introduced me to Woody Allen films). There was a lovely sunset coming in through our big windows and Dr. Dan was lightly chiding me about how he could imagine me suddenly taking us on an amateur investigation (and of course he’s right). I guess I found the charm of the couple on the screen within the couple on the couch in a way that made me deeply smile and appreciate how romantic we have always been. Just a day before, we had celebrated our years of togetherness in a much more grand style with a local, professional photographer coming out to our farm and a romantic dinner. But for me, this moment of quiet reverie on the couch was the real deal, the real celebration of our life together. How he truly knows me (and loves me anyway)…how romantic he is (he has written me a love poem every year that we have been married) and how blessed I am to have a husband who truly cherishes me and has never taken me off of the pedestal he put me on when he asked me to be his wife. Just deeply knowing that I have always been his first choice is something that no amount of money or romantic displays can buy.
While I certainly hope that we never have the opportunity or need to embark on an amateur murder investigation, I can honestly say that there is no one I would rather sleuth with.
The next few movies we write about will be ones that are dear to us and conjure up romance in honor of our Wedding Anniversary which we plan to celebrate all weekend :).
So here’s the first – Woody Allen’s Manhattan Murder Mystery. Those who know me may be surprised to know that this is really my favorite Woody Allen movie. Or maybe that’s not so surprising – you tell me. While the critics actually liked it, it is not a “critic’s favorite” among Allen’s work, nor was it commercially successful, nor is it the intellectual feast that is The Purple Rose of Cairo (an Accidental Critic Classic). Maybe this is my favorite Woody Allen film simply because it portrays Woody Allen’s best side if not the best of his work.
The movie features Allen’s ultimate love and greatest character, Manhattan. In it we meet a middle-aged Manhattanite couple living in a high rise apartment. Comedy ensues when Carol (played by Diane Keaton) starts to suspect an elderly neighbor of murdering his wife. Carol’s husband (played by Allen) ends up joining in her amateur sleuthing to keep his marriage alive. What follows is really just a light-hearted series of events that swirl around a true mystery in an old fashioned whodunit style. In the end, our Manhattanites find a bit of spontaneity and adventure to rekindle their romance. No gripping dialogue or tortured souls…though the movie does deliver one of my favorite movie lines ever – “I can’t listen to too much Vagner, it makes me want to conquer Poland.”
To me, this movie is simply the height of a good, entertaining movie that somehow manages to make you feel good (even with a murder lurking in the plot). And maybe that was not only Allen’s intent for his audience, but something he was trying to achieve for himself at the time. This movie was released in 1993 at the height of Allen’s divorce from Mia Farrow and the ensuing public drama and legal battle associated with his “child bride” (in fact, Keaton’s role was originally written for Farrow). In a recent interview, Allen talked about how movies for him have always been an escape, an oasis from the “terror of the universe”. This movie certainly offers that as it effortlessly transports you for a couple hours.
One interesting thing to note as you are enjoying this film is that it contains a small shout-out to Orson Wells in a scene where the characters face off in a “hall of mirrors” while an Orson Wells movie plays in the background. Wells’ movies contemplate evil while here Allen seems to be intent on not facing it directly.
Honestly, I don’t think this movie truly rose to the top for me until I watched it again this weekend, snuggled up with my husband (who really introduced me to Woody Allen films). There was a lovely sunset coming in through our big windows and Dr. Dan was lightly chiding me about how he could imagine me suddenly taking us on an amateur investigation (and of course he’s right). I guess I found the charm of the couple on the screen within the couple on the couch in a way that made me deeply smile and appreciate how romantic we have always been. Just a day before, we had celebrated our years of togetherness in a much more grand style with a local, professional photographer coming out to our farm and a romantic dinner. But for me, this moment of quiet reverie on the couch was the real deal, the real celebration of our life together. How he truly knows me (and loves me anyway)…how romantic he is (he has written me a love poem every year that we have been married) and how blessed I am to have a husband who truly cherishes me and has never taken me off of the pedestal he put me on when he asked me to be his wife. Just deeply knowing that I have always been his first choice is something that no amount of money or romantic displays can buy.
While I certainly hope that we never have the opportunity or need to embark on an amateur murder investigation, I can honestly say that there is no one I would rather sleuth with.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Examined Life
There is a famous moment in history little discussed. In 155BC the Greeks had surrendered to the Romans but Athens did not want to pay tribute to Rome. They asserted that their hundreds year long intellectual tradition benefited civilization to such an extent that their tribute was in effect already paid. To make this point they sent philosophers to Rome whose public exhibitions proved very popular. The philosophers were extraordinary debaters who could make excellent arguments to both sides of a question, so they would take opposing sides and then switch positions. The Elder Cato, a senator of great stature, was appalled at this sophistry and sent them packing. Rome never became famous for philosophy.
To insure in this post-literate age that philosophy never becomes important to America, one only has to watch the documentary “Examined Life “ A more eloquent argument for living life without examination has never been made. The absurdity of the American practice of philosophy is completely on display. After watching this documentary one can thank one’s lucky stars that one is not like those oddly arrogant creatures who comprised completely of uncommon sense imagine their endeavors worthwhile. The phrase dreadfully smart takes on its true meaning after the camera introduces you to these personalities. If only there were time enough to watch this film over and over again searching for the those few moments of silence wherein “Rocky Horror” style one could squeeze in the right interjection to exemplify how truly idiotic these people are.
The sophistry of these practitioners of philosophy is different from those that Cato experienced. These folks are not capable of arguing opposite sides of the same question. For the Romans that was a great wonder. Here you are left to wonder, what did these people suffer to end up like this? My guess would be a complete lack for any sense of the holy.
To insure in this post-literate age that philosophy never becomes important to America, one only has to watch the documentary “Examined Life “ A more eloquent argument for living life without examination has never been made. The absurdity of the American practice of philosophy is completely on display. After watching this documentary one can thank one’s lucky stars that one is not like those oddly arrogant creatures who comprised completely of uncommon sense imagine their endeavors worthwhile. The phrase dreadfully smart takes on its true meaning after the camera introduces you to these personalities. If only there were time enough to watch this film over and over again searching for the those few moments of silence wherein “Rocky Horror” style one could squeeze in the right interjection to exemplify how truly idiotic these people are.
The sophistry of these practitioners of philosophy is different from those that Cato experienced. These folks are not capable of arguing opposite sides of the same question. For the Romans that was a great wonder. Here you are left to wonder, what did these people suffer to end up like this? My guess would be a complete lack for any sense of the holy.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Angel Heart ****
“Angel Heart” is an Accidental Critic classic and possibly one of the best examples of film noir - certainly the best from the 80’s. Figuring out what is going on in the film is not easy (though once you do, the plot is simple), but more interestingly, the attempt has a way of being personally disturbing.
What material is scarier than the truths we choose to hide from ourselves? The movie explores this material and succeeds in delivering these dark thoughts brilliantly by using supernatural undertones that illuminate our deepest and darkest fears.
Our “hero”, Harry Angel (Mickey Rourke), is a gentle private dick. He’s a nice guy. That he repeats the phrase “I’m from Brooklyn” (with just the right accent) as a way of explaining everything about him becomes just another lovable piece of his charm. You immediately develop a kind of liking for Harry Angel and you end up rooting for him - or at least you want him to stay out of trouble. But when he is hired by the mysterious Louis Cyphre (now say it fast, three times), played brilliantly by De Niro, to find “Johnny Favorite” a man who “owes” his client “a debt”, he begins a journey of self-discovery that he has been trying to avoid. We learn that Harry Angel is not who he claims to be, even as he desperately tries to convince himself during a riveting scene where he cries into the mirror “I know who I am! I know who I am!” No, Harry, apparently you do not...you’re not even close.
As the truth unfolds, we see Harry Angel existing between two worlds. The interplay between the truth about him and the reality of the world as he sees it is disconcerting. It is as if his inner life is far more truthful than the actual world in which he operates. He will do anything to hide the truth from himself and yet as the answer begins to reveal itself he finds that the truth has a gravity of its own. He is drawn, with horrifying fascination, to touch the shrouded figures that haunt him with the prospect of the real Harry Angel...
We don’t like to believe that those we like, trust, even love are not who we think they are, and may even be deeply rotten inside. When you think about it, it’s really a terrifying thought. Is it true that you never really know someone? Of course, we know ourselves, but what about self-deception? Don’t we also try to fool ourselves in so many ways? One could argue that in Harry Angel’s case, self-discovery is overrated. The bad choices he made early in life have irrevocably locked him into an existence where the “unexamined life” would have probably been his best bet.
Thankfully for most of us, the truth is not as horrifying as it is for Harry Angel, but it is just as irrevocable. No one can recreate the past, nor can they change the truth – no matter how desperately they try. Think of public figures of the day or anyone who, rather than be honest, attempts instead to twist and diminish the truth into something that allows them to maintain “control”. Of course, ultimately they only succeed in self-degradation, loss of control and loss of the respect of those who see through them.
Our “hero” tries to cheat fate and fails, but in the end he has enough self-respect to get into that descending elevator.
What material is scarier than the truths we choose to hide from ourselves? The movie explores this material and succeeds in delivering these dark thoughts brilliantly by using supernatural undertones that illuminate our deepest and darkest fears.
Our “hero”, Harry Angel (Mickey Rourke), is a gentle private dick. He’s a nice guy. That he repeats the phrase “I’m from Brooklyn” (with just the right accent) as a way of explaining everything about him becomes just another lovable piece of his charm. You immediately develop a kind of liking for Harry Angel and you end up rooting for him - or at least you want him to stay out of trouble. But when he is hired by the mysterious Louis Cyphre (now say it fast, three times), played brilliantly by De Niro, to find “Johnny Favorite” a man who “owes” his client “a debt”, he begins a journey of self-discovery that he has been trying to avoid. We learn that Harry Angel is not who he claims to be, even as he desperately tries to convince himself during a riveting scene where he cries into the mirror “I know who I am! I know who I am!” No, Harry, apparently you do not...you’re not even close.
As the truth unfolds, we see Harry Angel existing between two worlds. The interplay between the truth about him and the reality of the world as he sees it is disconcerting. It is as if his inner life is far more truthful than the actual world in which he operates. He will do anything to hide the truth from himself and yet as the answer begins to reveal itself he finds that the truth has a gravity of its own. He is drawn, with horrifying fascination, to touch the shrouded figures that haunt him with the prospect of the real Harry Angel...
We don’t like to believe that those we like, trust, even love are not who we think they are, and may even be deeply rotten inside. When you think about it, it’s really a terrifying thought. Is it true that you never really know someone? Of course, we know ourselves, but what about self-deception? Don’t we also try to fool ourselves in so many ways? One could argue that in Harry Angel’s case, self-discovery is overrated. The bad choices he made early in life have irrevocably locked him into an existence where the “unexamined life” would have probably been his best bet.
Thankfully for most of us, the truth is not as horrifying as it is for Harry Angel, but it is just as irrevocable. No one can recreate the past, nor can they change the truth – no matter how desperately they try. Think of public figures of the day or anyone who, rather than be honest, attempts instead to twist and diminish the truth into something that allows them to maintain “control”. Of course, ultimately they only succeed in self-degradation, loss of control and loss of the respect of those who see through them.
Our “hero” tries to cheat fate and fails, but in the end he has enough self-respect to get into that descending elevator.
Monday, April 26, 2010
The Tiger and the Snow (La Tigre e la neve)
“The Tiger and the Snow” is a romantic comedy that is so beautifully constructed that it feels mythical. Then we watched it again and realized, that’s because it is very much like a myth, the myth of Orpheus.
This Roberto Benigni film was not well received by many reviewers who thought that the hero was too silly, the storyline too ambiguous and other criticisms which all (in our opinion) fail to grasp the spirit of this movie, the same one that runs deeply through many of Benigni’s films – his unassailable love of life and belief in love itself.
In “The Tiger and the Snow” Benigni creates a hero, Giovanni, who is very much like Benigni himself – a poet. In one scene Giovanni explains to his daughters how he came to be a poet by telling them a story about a bird which landed on his shoulder when he was a young boy. He was amazed by this encounter, but failed to communicate his delight and wonder to his mother because as a child he lacked the right words. From that point forward, he wanted to be someone who could make people feel as he was feeling through the power of his language. As the story proceeds, he also charms a bat and a camel. Orpheus, the greatest mythical poet, also has a special relationship to animals.
As the famous myth goes, Orpheus was willing to go to Hell (or Hades) to bring back his true love, Eurydice, but he lost her when he turns to see if she is following him. What if Orpheus had never looked back? Well then, he gets his life back with the girl.
This is the question (and the answer) of this 2006 film. In the myth, Orpheus braves Hades for Eurydice, but he is fairly certain that he can make it back because of the power of his lyer (his music). In the film, Benigni does the Orpheic myth one better in that Giovanni dives into deep uncertainty and danger to retrieve his true love out of a war-torn Baghdad with nothing but his wits and his love to sustain him. He will pose as a surgeon, drive buses and mopeds through the dessert, face riots, looters, American troops and imprisonment.
Giovanni has an Orpheic counterpart: Fuad the Iraqi poet who goes to the realm of the dead never to return. Their conversation prior to Fuad’s suicide is revealing. Fuad, distraught at the condition of Baghdad, loves the city at least as much as Allah does (he recites a story of how Allah so loved the view of the night sky from the city, that he would often return to earth just to see it). But Fuad lacks faith and believes that there is nothing after death. Giovanni proclaims that he believes that after death he will remember and celebrate life. If Fuad represents anyone, it is the lover who cannot bear the hell he must traverse to save his love.
That Giovanni is a fool may seem to be a contrivance. After all, Benigni needs to make jokes and certainly the character’s foolishness gives his true love, Vitoria, cause to hold him at arms length. His foolishness, however; allows him not only to tread where no one else would go but to keep absolutely focused on the essentials. So many people do not like this film because the single mindedness of Giovanni does not do justice to war-torn Iraq, but this is exactly how Giovanni succeeds where Orpheus fails.
What is Orpheus real power? His music inspires life. When Giovanni lectures on how to write poetry he captivates his students and his colleagues fall in love with him. When he pursues his love, he is hardly aware of what clothes he is wearing (if any) or where he has parked his car. He is a testament to a man who’s cup of life runs over and any who find him entrancing find themselves drinking full of life as well.
All I can say is, we love this film and speaking for myself…it makes me want to kiss my husband.
This Roberto Benigni film was not well received by many reviewers who thought that the hero was too silly, the storyline too ambiguous and other criticisms which all (in our opinion) fail to grasp the spirit of this movie, the same one that runs deeply through many of Benigni’s films – his unassailable love of life and belief in love itself.
In “The Tiger and the Snow” Benigni creates a hero, Giovanni, who is very much like Benigni himself – a poet. In one scene Giovanni explains to his daughters how he came to be a poet by telling them a story about a bird which landed on his shoulder when he was a young boy. He was amazed by this encounter, but failed to communicate his delight and wonder to his mother because as a child he lacked the right words. From that point forward, he wanted to be someone who could make people feel as he was feeling through the power of his language. As the story proceeds, he also charms a bat and a camel. Orpheus, the greatest mythical poet, also has a special relationship to animals.
As the famous myth goes, Orpheus was willing to go to Hell (or Hades) to bring back his true love, Eurydice, but he lost her when he turns to see if she is following him. What if Orpheus had never looked back? Well then, he gets his life back with the girl.
This is the question (and the answer) of this 2006 film. In the myth, Orpheus braves Hades for Eurydice, but he is fairly certain that he can make it back because of the power of his lyer (his music). In the film, Benigni does the Orpheic myth one better in that Giovanni dives into deep uncertainty and danger to retrieve his true love out of a war-torn Baghdad with nothing but his wits and his love to sustain him. He will pose as a surgeon, drive buses and mopeds through the dessert, face riots, looters, American troops and imprisonment.
Giovanni has an Orpheic counterpart: Fuad the Iraqi poet who goes to the realm of the dead never to return. Their conversation prior to Fuad’s suicide is revealing. Fuad, distraught at the condition of Baghdad, loves the city at least as much as Allah does (he recites a story of how Allah so loved the view of the night sky from the city, that he would often return to earth just to see it). But Fuad lacks faith and believes that there is nothing after death. Giovanni proclaims that he believes that after death he will remember and celebrate life. If Fuad represents anyone, it is the lover who cannot bear the hell he must traverse to save his love.
That Giovanni is a fool may seem to be a contrivance. After all, Benigni needs to make jokes and certainly the character’s foolishness gives his true love, Vitoria, cause to hold him at arms length. His foolishness, however; allows him not only to tread where no one else would go but to keep absolutely focused on the essentials. So many people do not like this film because the single mindedness of Giovanni does not do justice to war-torn Iraq, but this is exactly how Giovanni succeeds where Orpheus fails.
What is Orpheus real power? His music inspires life. When Giovanni lectures on how to write poetry he captivates his students and his colleagues fall in love with him. When he pursues his love, he is hardly aware of what clothes he is wearing (if any) or where he has parked his car. He is a testament to a man who’s cup of life runs over and any who find him entrancing find themselves drinking full of life as well.
All I can say is, we love this film and speaking for myself…it makes me want to kiss my husband.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly *
Well, it’s time for an Accidental Critic pan.
“The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” (Le Scaphandre et le papillon) is a French docudrama based on the real life story of Elle magazine editor Jean-Dominique Bauby. Bauby suffered a stroke in 1995 that left him completely paralyzed and mute. Well, not completely paralyzed, he was able to author an autobiography which he dictated by blinking his left eye.
When the film was released in 2007 it garnered a good bit of praise. Julian Schnabel was nominated for the 2008 Best Director Oscar (and won the Golden Globe). The film has been described as “poignant”, “an ode to liberation”, a “sensitive exploration”…okay we’ll watch it already.
Hmmm…gotta say, we were not impressed. Should we have found the hero admirable or the women who loved him profound, thoughtful, or sensitive? Perhaps not. They were French, though. The situation is tragic, but is there a tragic hero? Does the hero learn to overcome his privations or does he just dwell in his memories and fantasies? Of course a docudrama doesn’t have to be only as good as the truth of its main characters and yet we couldn’t help but be disappointed by the film. As you are watching you keep waiting, thinking that something important is about to happen, and then it doesn’t.
If this is among the best that French film has to offer, it seems that the French are full of departure. With the deaths of Beaudrillard and Derrida, has the culture suffered its own neurological accident from which recovery is unlikely? Is French cinema, like the former editor of Elle, reduced to the wink?
We recently reviewed an older French film,“Diva” which upon recent viewing seemed a bit naive. But for many reasons it is still the more thoughtful film. At least there are some interesting ideas about beauty and about evil which deserve reflection.
Seen any good French movies lately?
“The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” (Le Scaphandre et le papillon) is a French docudrama based on the real life story of Elle magazine editor Jean-Dominique Bauby. Bauby suffered a stroke in 1995 that left him completely paralyzed and mute. Well, not completely paralyzed, he was able to author an autobiography which he dictated by blinking his left eye.
When the film was released in 2007 it garnered a good bit of praise. Julian Schnabel was nominated for the 2008 Best Director Oscar (and won the Golden Globe). The film has been described as “poignant”, “an ode to liberation”, a “sensitive exploration”…okay we’ll watch it already.
Hmmm…gotta say, we were not impressed. Should we have found the hero admirable or the women who loved him profound, thoughtful, or sensitive? Perhaps not. They were French, though. The situation is tragic, but is there a tragic hero? Does the hero learn to overcome his privations or does he just dwell in his memories and fantasies? Of course a docudrama doesn’t have to be only as good as the truth of its main characters and yet we couldn’t help but be disappointed by the film. As you are watching you keep waiting, thinking that something important is about to happen, and then it doesn’t.
If this is among the best that French film has to offer, it seems that the French are full of departure. With the deaths of Beaudrillard and Derrida, has the culture suffered its own neurological accident from which recovery is unlikely? Is French cinema, like the former editor of Elle, reduced to the wink?
We recently reviewed an older French film,“Diva” which upon recent viewing seemed a bit naive. But for many reasons it is still the more thoughtful film. At least there are some interesting ideas about beauty and about evil which deserve reflection.
Seen any good French movies lately?
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Unmistaken Child *****
This is an enchanting documentary that definitely leaves you thinking.
“Unmistaken Child” follows the physical and spiritual journey of Tibetan Buddhist monk, Tenzin Zopa, as he seeks to identify the child who is the reincarnation of his deceased master, Lama Konchog. In the process to find his master, a “Rinpoche” or reborn, enlightened Buddhist, Tenzin relies on astrology, the ash remains of his master’s cremation, and dreams. However, Tenzin is chosen for the job of finding his master not because of his great skill at interpreting these signs, but because of his great love for his master and the close relationship that he had to him all of his life. Rinpoche literally means "precious one"
A the beginning of his journey Tenzin has mixed emotions. He is happy at the prospect of the rebirth of his master, but he is filled with trepidation about being chosen to identify this reincarnation. How will he know? And once he does find “the unmistaken” child, he must convince the parents to release the child and let him become the guardian.
Tenzin looks for signs and he finds them. The film is filled with beautiful and moving scenes. We see Tenzin’s grief at the loss of his dear master and the mixture of pride and anguish experienced by the parents who make the difficult decision to release their child in his care. Perhaps most haunting, however, are the images of the “unmistaken child”. It is truly a bit unnerving to see a toddler so poised and quite inexplicably showing a very grown up interest in, the daily watering of an apple tree (which we later learn was planted by Lama Konchog).
But are these signs really what convinces Tenzin in the end or is it something else…something intangible and only recognizable by him? The ones we love, our precious ones, are more, much more, to us than simply the sum of their parts that reads like a personal ad. Let’s face it “blonde hair, blue eyes, enjoys walks on the beach and sushi” isn’t going to cut it when you are looking for the soul inside the body of a child. So what does?
I have a picture of my husband that I keep on my nightstand. It was taken over 40 years ago (that’s before I was born). He was a student at Columbia in NY and is standing on the street looking over his shoulder and smiling. I love that picture because for whatever reason, I’m convinced when I look at it that he is smiling at me. It is the look in his eyes, that indescribable something that I have seen now a thousand times, was there before and will be there always. Would I recognize it coming out of someone else’s eyes? When I asked him “How would you find me?” he replied, “Oh, I’d know by the shine coming out of your eyes”.
“Unmistaken Child” follows the physical and spiritual journey of Tibetan Buddhist monk, Tenzin Zopa, as he seeks to identify the child who is the reincarnation of his deceased master, Lama Konchog. In the process to find his master, a “Rinpoche” or reborn, enlightened Buddhist, Tenzin relies on astrology, the ash remains of his master’s cremation, and dreams. However, Tenzin is chosen for the job of finding his master not because of his great skill at interpreting these signs, but because of his great love for his master and the close relationship that he had to him all of his life. Rinpoche literally means "precious one"
A the beginning of his journey Tenzin has mixed emotions. He is happy at the prospect of the rebirth of his master, but he is filled with trepidation about being chosen to identify this reincarnation. How will he know? And once he does find “the unmistaken” child, he must convince the parents to release the child and let him become the guardian.
Tenzin looks for signs and he finds them. The film is filled with beautiful and moving scenes. We see Tenzin’s grief at the loss of his dear master and the mixture of pride and anguish experienced by the parents who make the difficult decision to release their child in his care. Perhaps most haunting, however, are the images of the “unmistaken child”. It is truly a bit unnerving to see a toddler so poised and quite inexplicably showing a very grown up interest in, the daily watering of an apple tree (which we later learn was planted by Lama Konchog).
But are these signs really what convinces Tenzin in the end or is it something else…something intangible and only recognizable by him? The ones we love, our precious ones, are more, much more, to us than simply the sum of their parts that reads like a personal ad. Let’s face it “blonde hair, blue eyes, enjoys walks on the beach and sushi” isn’t going to cut it when you are looking for the soul inside the body of a child. So what does?
I have a picture of my husband that I keep on my nightstand. It was taken over 40 years ago (that’s before I was born). He was a student at Columbia in NY and is standing on the street looking over his shoulder and smiling. I love that picture because for whatever reason, I’m convinced when I look at it that he is smiling at me. It is the look in his eyes, that indescribable something that I have seen now a thousand times, was there before and will be there always. Would I recognize it coming out of someone else’s eyes? When I asked him “How would you find me?” he replied, “Oh, I’d know by the shine coming out of your eyes”.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Viva Zapata! *****
When I was a boy and my parents went out for the evening, I had the opportunity to stay up late and watch a movie. If I was lucky it was an old horror movie, or better something like “Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein and Dracula.” If I was really lucky I could catch “Arsenic and Old Lace.” Truly miraculous, however, was to catch a movie I can’t find anywhere, “Viva Zapata.”
It is Marlon Brando and Anthony Quinn in an Elia Kazan directed, Steinbeck written saga of the early 20th century revolutionary of Southern Mexico. Every time it reduced me to tears. Quinn got the Oscar for his overacting and Brando just the nomination for one of his best performances.
1952 is the McCarthy era and the real Zapata was a student of Kropotkin. This film walks a beautiful line between right and left. Steinbeck’s Zapata not only believes he should fight for the rights of peasants, he believes that power corrupts and that the peasants will never really succeed until they distrust all leaders and fight for themselves.
There are many fine moments in this film: Emiliano explaining indirectly why the peasants need to kill his brother if they are going to be free; the young firebrand Emiliano explaining that children will starve if planting is delayed by political games, only to hear as Presidente (an hour later in the film) that children will starve if planting is delayed by political games; or the moment when peasants by sheer numbers stop the police from arresting their champion Zapata, by amassing in such numbers that the federales simply cannot move along.
Steinbeck gives you Mexican peasant culture; it is a gift you can treasure forever.
It is Marlon Brando and Anthony Quinn in an Elia Kazan directed, Steinbeck written saga of the early 20th century revolutionary of Southern Mexico. Every time it reduced me to tears. Quinn got the Oscar for his overacting and Brando just the nomination for one of his best performances.
1952 is the McCarthy era and the real Zapata was a student of Kropotkin. This film walks a beautiful line between right and left. Steinbeck’s Zapata not only believes he should fight for the rights of peasants, he believes that power corrupts and that the peasants will never really succeed until they distrust all leaders and fight for themselves.
There are many fine moments in this film: Emiliano explaining indirectly why the peasants need to kill his brother if they are going to be free; the young firebrand Emiliano explaining that children will starve if planting is delayed by political games, only to hear as Presidente (an hour later in the film) that children will starve if planting is delayed by political games; or the moment when peasants by sheer numbers stop the police from arresting their champion Zapata, by amassing in such numbers that the federales simply cannot move along.
Steinbeck gives you Mexican peasant culture; it is a gift you can treasure forever.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
The Double Life of Veronique *****
This movie is an Accidental Critic classic that has haunted us for years. If you haven’t seen it, it’s worth seeing even just to experience the music which is as beautiful and haunting as anything we’ve ever heard. Music plays a fascinating role in the film and the background on that is almost as intriguing as the film itself. The director, Krzysztof Kieslowski (considered by many as the greatest director of this period (80’s-90’s)), formed a lifelong friendship and partnership with Zbigniew Preisner a Philosophy graduate student who abandoned Philosophical study and became a self-taught composer. Unlike many film/music collaborations where the music comes after the film and only serves to accentuate it, the work of Kieslowski and Preisner was a much deeper collaboration where the music informs and inspires the story as much as the story brings the music to life.
The story revolves around two women, Polish singer Weronika and French music teacher Veronique, who are as alike as identical twins. They each have an innate sense of the other’s existence, though they have never met. It is an emotional bond that leaves each with the feeling of “not being alone in the world”. That is until Weronika dies of a heart attack during a concert while singing a passage from Dante's Paradiso (Canto 2: 1-9).
This is a wonderfully enigmatic film that resists too much deconstruction, but we have recently become intrigued by the interpretations of one scholar, Sylvia McCosker, who sees in the film the deeply Christian theme of “coinherence” or souls that exist in essential relationship with one another. The theory of coinherence is the divine solidarity of humankind which (according to Charles Williams) was first a created reality that we enjoyed before “the fall” and was restored by the redemption we receive through Christ. By creation as well as by redemption none of us is alone. This may seem like a stretch interpretation of the film, but McCosker sees some good stuff. She writes…
You can read McCosker’s complete work on the film here.
The final scene is perhaps the most haunting. We see Veronique driving to her Father’s home and she stops to reach out and touch a tree, meanwhile the Father who is a furniture maker is cutting wood and suddenly stops. This has been a scene that we’ve been trying to interpret for years and we are still not satisfied, but Dr. Dan does have a theory which was helped by McCosker and speaks to the film’s treatment of art and the artist as someone who attempts to represent the divine but ends up exploiting it in the very act of praise. We would love to hear other theories on this scene if you got them.
But while all this is very interesting, the truth is that this is a film that should be experienced and “felt” like the way you have that inexplicable good feeling watching the sun rise or like the way a memory comes to you through a scent or like the way sometimes, you just deeply know…you are not alone.
The story revolves around two women, Polish singer Weronika and French music teacher Veronique, who are as alike as identical twins. They each have an innate sense of the other’s existence, though they have never met. It is an emotional bond that leaves each with the feeling of “not being alone in the world”. That is until Weronika dies of a heart attack during a concert while singing a passage from Dante's Paradiso (Canto 2: 1-9).
This is a wonderfully enigmatic film that resists too much deconstruction, but we have recently become intrigued by the interpretations of one scholar, Sylvia McCosker, who sees in the film the deeply Christian theme of “coinherence” or souls that exist in essential relationship with one another. The theory of coinherence is the divine solidarity of humankind which (according to Charles Williams) was first a created reality that we enjoyed before “the fall” and was restored by the redemption we receive through Christ. By creation as well as by redemption none of us is alone. This may seem like a stretch interpretation of the film, but McCosker sees some good stuff. She writes…
The gospel story is alluded to at the beginning. First the child Weronika hears her mother telling her to look for the Christmas star; then the child Veronique hears her mother telling her to look at the new green leaves (which in a European context tells us it is spring, therefore Easter time). The heroine's name recalls one of the traditional Stations of the Cross. Reared in Catholic Poland, Kieslowski must have known the legend of Veronica - patron saint of photographers. St Veronica leaned from the roadside and with her veil wiped the blood and sweat from the face of Christ as he made his way toward Calvary. Afterward when she looked at her veil she saw stamped upon it the image of His face - hence her name, which means "true image".
You can read McCosker’s complete work on the film here.
The final scene is perhaps the most haunting. We see Veronique driving to her Father’s home and she stops to reach out and touch a tree, meanwhile the Father who is a furniture maker is cutting wood and suddenly stops. This has been a scene that we’ve been trying to interpret for years and we are still not satisfied, but Dr. Dan does have a theory which was helped by McCosker and speaks to the film’s treatment of art and the artist as someone who attempts to represent the divine but ends up exploiting it in the very act of praise. We would love to hear other theories on this scene if you got them.
But while all this is very interesting, the truth is that this is a film that should be experienced and “felt” like the way you have that inexplicable good feeling watching the sun rise or like the way a memory comes to you through a scent or like the way sometimes, you just deeply know…you are not alone.
Friday, April 2, 2010
The Order of Myths ****
I am a bit of a documentary junky - perhaps because I really do believe that the truth is often stranger than fiction. My husband tolerates the docs with me, but they aren’t his thing. This one, however, had us both somewhat transfixed.
“The Order of Myths” chronicles Mobile, Alabama’s Mardi Gras celebration. Dating back to the 1700’s this Mardi Gras celebration is the oldest in America (who knew?). While the event is the focus, this documentary explores the city itself, its people, its mystical societies, its race relations and its obsession with masks and Moon Pies.
While it starts out as “quirky” there is an eeriness about the deeply rooted racial tension, the secrecy of the mystical societies and the genuine reverence for the Mardi Gras “royalty” that sneaks up on you. The film covers the Mardi Gras events of 2007, but in many ways you feel as if you have been transported back to the deep South prior to WWI. Segregation is not only alive in Mobile it is “well” and being elaborately played out in the Mardi Gras celebration events which are run by two separate associations – white and black, each of which produces its own “King and Queen” of Mardi Gras.
But this isn’t a “political” documentary nor can mere “political correctness” make sense of the rich complexity of Mobile’s myths and the way they play out in its current culture. Let’s put it this way, if Robert Graves were to have a home in the deep South, this would be it. At one point in the film the head of the “white” association exclaims “we love our trees…I mean, we’re not Druids or anything, but we love our trees…” Indeed, the trees have grown so well they have uprooted the sidewalks. Progress itself seems uprooted in Mobile, while the roots of southern tradition grow wider and deeper through the community.
While Mobile may be home to the last vestiges of segregation, there is nothing “black and white” about this engrossing and thoughtful portrayal that leaves one wondering if the masks of carnival reveal masks worn year round.
“The Order of Myths” chronicles Mobile, Alabama’s Mardi Gras celebration. Dating back to the 1700’s this Mardi Gras celebration is the oldest in America (who knew?). While the event is the focus, this documentary explores the city itself, its people, its mystical societies, its race relations and its obsession with masks and Moon Pies.
While it starts out as “quirky” there is an eeriness about the deeply rooted racial tension, the secrecy of the mystical societies and the genuine reverence for the Mardi Gras “royalty” that sneaks up on you. The film covers the Mardi Gras events of 2007, but in many ways you feel as if you have been transported back to the deep South prior to WWI. Segregation is not only alive in Mobile it is “well” and being elaborately played out in the Mardi Gras celebration events which are run by two separate associations – white and black, each of which produces its own “King and Queen” of Mardi Gras.
But this isn’t a “political” documentary nor can mere “political correctness” make sense of the rich complexity of Mobile’s myths and the way they play out in its current culture. Let’s put it this way, if Robert Graves were to have a home in the deep South, this would be it. At one point in the film the head of the “white” association exclaims “we love our trees…I mean, we’re not Druids or anything, but we love our trees…” Indeed, the trees have grown so well they have uprooted the sidewalks. Progress itself seems uprooted in Mobile, while the roots of southern tradition grow wider and deeper through the community.
While Mobile may be home to the last vestiges of segregation, there is nothing “black and white” about this engrossing and thoughtful portrayal that leaves one wondering if the masks of carnival reveal masks worn year round.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Dangerous Liaisons *****
“Dangerous Liaisons” is based on an epistolary novel written prior to the French revolution. It is 18th century France and the idle rich are amusing themselves by practicing the art of deception and seduction. At the head of it all is the Countess (Glen Close), master manipulator and society’s reigning queen for whom control is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Her devoted and lustful Vicomte (John Malkovich) is her partner in crime. Trust us, the modern day shenanigans portrayed in those cheesy reality shows have nothing on the machinations of the idle rich in 18th century France.
Bonded through a deeply cynical view of love, the Countess and the Vicomte strike a deal. If the Vicomte can seduce the pious Mme de Tourvelle, he will receive what would be his greatest conquest – the Countess herself. The perfect plan is hatched and our Vicomte is confident that he is in it only for the thrill of the seduction and the prize. But love it seems has a gravity of its own that pulls on each of them, causing them to lose control.
Love and truth, two things we try desperately to deny them when they disappoint us. You cannot control love and the truth will not only be eventually revealed, it will also reveal you. This is the lesson that we see our Vicomte learning as his heart is conquered by Mme de Tourvelle and then broken by his inability to rightly honor that love.
The climax of the movie is reached when the Vicomte repeats “It’s beyond my control” over and over again. It is the blunt instrument that he uses to break the heart of Mme de Tourvelle and placate the Countess. Is he lying? Certainly being in control in affairs of the heart has been his absolute. Control is what enables him to ignore what is best in humans and instead delight in their humiliation. The truth is that the control he prizes is a sham. The Countess has, by giving him this phrase, sent him on his way to Mme de Tourvelle like a missile fully armed. Malkovich delivers the line with a robotic intensity. The Vicomte is losing whatever humanity he pretended to have. His growing anger as he repeats it is a sign that he himself is not unaware of what he is losing. The only suitable punishment is death, which he elegantly turns into revenge upon the Countess.
So often people mistake love for their desire for control. Think about the wife who tolerates her husband’s infidelity. Is it love she is hanging on to or is she merely driven by the fear of losing her own fairy tale? In the name of control we deny the absence of love and its presence. Nothing good comes from this denial.
The closing scene of the film is chilling. We see the Countess seated at her dressing table staring into a mirror as she removes her "masque”. What lies beneath is the emptiness sown by denial.
Bonded through a deeply cynical view of love, the Countess and the Vicomte strike a deal. If the Vicomte can seduce the pious Mme de Tourvelle, he will receive what would be his greatest conquest – the Countess herself. The perfect plan is hatched and our Vicomte is confident that he is in it only for the thrill of the seduction and the prize. But love it seems has a gravity of its own that pulls on each of them, causing them to lose control.
Love and truth, two things we try desperately to deny them when they disappoint us. You cannot control love and the truth will not only be eventually revealed, it will also reveal you. This is the lesson that we see our Vicomte learning as his heart is conquered by Mme de Tourvelle and then broken by his inability to rightly honor that love.
The climax of the movie is reached when the Vicomte repeats “It’s beyond my control” over and over again. It is the blunt instrument that he uses to break the heart of Mme de Tourvelle and placate the Countess. Is he lying? Certainly being in control in affairs of the heart has been his absolute. Control is what enables him to ignore what is best in humans and instead delight in their humiliation. The truth is that the control he prizes is a sham. The Countess has, by giving him this phrase, sent him on his way to Mme de Tourvelle like a missile fully armed. Malkovich delivers the line with a robotic intensity. The Vicomte is losing whatever humanity he pretended to have. His growing anger as he repeats it is a sign that he himself is not unaware of what he is losing. The only suitable punishment is death, which he elegantly turns into revenge upon the Countess.
So often people mistake love for their desire for control. Think about the wife who tolerates her husband’s infidelity. Is it love she is hanging on to or is she merely driven by the fear of losing her own fairy tale? In the name of control we deny the absence of love and its presence. Nothing good comes from this denial.
The closing scene of the film is chilling. We see the Countess seated at her dressing table staring into a mirror as she removes her "masque”. What lies beneath is the emptiness sown by denial.
Monday, March 29, 2010
A Few Days in September ****
Unlike so many of them out there, this is a good political drama. Lately we have been staying away from this genre because much of what has been produced in the last few years has been done so with an agenda so obvious that you feel as if you made the mistake of inviting Sean Penn over for dinner and now you are sorely regretting it as he launches into his third tirade during the second course and blows cigarette smoke in your face (think “Lions for Lambs”). But lately we have been on a Juliette Binoche kick so when this film popped up on our Watch Instantly radar with the additional carrot of John Turturro, we bit.
Aside from it being an entertaining, well-acted film, what you can deeply appreciate about “A Few Days in September” is its treatment of our political world with the complexity that the subject matter deserves. The world has grown simply too big for there to be just two sides to anything. It’s naïve to think that a government as big as the United States can be simply “for” something and also not be ambivalent towards or against it. Have you ever tried getting even a four-person family to decide unanimously on where to go to dinner Friday night? Good. Now imagine a huge bureaucracy trying to come to a consensus on anything. Instinctively we know this and yet we continuously attempt to turn every issue into a black and white picture that is easy on our eyes and requires nothing more from us than to pick a side. So what is the answer? Oddly, “A Few Days in September” seems to be suggesting – poetry.
The first clue we receive is that the principle adversaries in the movie are named Pound and Elliot. The hit man, Mr. Pound has learned an appreciation of poetry from the master spy, Mr. Elliot. Pound recites Blake while watching the blood drain from one of his victims. Meanwhile Elliot’s stepson, David, loves poetry as much as his father much to the vexation of Elliot’s estranged daughter. But perhaps the most poetic character is Irene who functions alternately as master spy and “mother” to the two charges that her friend, Elliot, has asked her to chaperone to a meeting with him.
The movie culminates in poetic justice. The attack on the twin towers has inadvertently spawned a love between two young (and technically incestuous) hopefuls.
Aside from it being an entertaining, well-acted film, what you can deeply appreciate about “A Few Days in September” is its treatment of our political world with the complexity that the subject matter deserves. The world has grown simply too big for there to be just two sides to anything. It’s naïve to think that a government as big as the United States can be simply “for” something and also not be ambivalent towards or against it. Have you ever tried getting even a four-person family to decide unanimously on where to go to dinner Friday night? Good. Now imagine a huge bureaucracy trying to come to a consensus on anything. Instinctively we know this and yet we continuously attempt to turn every issue into a black and white picture that is easy on our eyes and requires nothing more from us than to pick a side. So what is the answer? Oddly, “A Few Days in September” seems to be suggesting – poetry.
The first clue we receive is that the principle adversaries in the movie are named Pound and Elliot. The hit man, Mr. Pound has learned an appreciation of poetry from the master spy, Mr. Elliot. Pound recites Blake while watching the blood drain from one of his victims. Meanwhile Elliot’s stepson, David, loves poetry as much as his father much to the vexation of Elliot’s estranged daughter. But perhaps the most poetic character is Irene who functions alternately as master spy and “mother” to the two charges that her friend, Elliot, has asked her to chaperone to a meeting with him.
The movie culminates in poetic justice. The attack on the twin towers has inadvertently spawned a love between two young (and technically incestuous) hopefuls.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
The Purple Rose of Cairo *****
When we read the Cave Allegory from Plato’s “Republic” we all think of the movies; when Woody Allen reads Plato it leads to a movie.
In the “Purple Rose of Cairo” Wood Allen creates a movie within a movie, showing you scenes from a fictitious black and white depression era movie (also entitled The Purple Rose of Cairo) because his heroine can’t help but watch it over and over again. For her it is escape and an impossible inspiration. According to the fictitious movie, the purple rose of Cairo is supposed to grow in a pharaoh’s tomb - the expression of a perfect love. Of course no rose is purple and flowers do not grow without light. It is an impossible inspiration. It’s all Plato’s fault.
According to him our relationship to the truth is dreadful. We are like people chained facing a wall in a cave, behind them a fire, and between the fire and their benches men parading objects whose shadows project upon the wall. Hankering for the truth, the viewers take shadows for reality. But Plato has another important point. Although our sense of reality is shadowy at best, we are only capable of understanding anything, thanks to a set of ideals which are beyond real experience. The impossible inspiration guides us through our shadows and intimates that there is more.
The movies are all that counts for the heroine of “The Purple Rose of Cairo”. Her chains are the miserable life to which she is subjected by the depression of the 30’s and her abusive husband. After too many hours in a theater watching her new favorite movie, about people with ideal life styles, one of its characters impossibly leaves the screen, and while comically attempting to establish himself in the real world, falls in love with her.
Screen characters running free in New Jersey, is bad for the movie business. So the actor who played the role is enlisted in the task of capturing his shadow and returning it to the screen. When he also falls for our heroine she has the ultimate Platonic choice: perfection or reality. Which would you choose?
In the “Purple Rose of Cairo” Wood Allen creates a movie within a movie, showing you scenes from a fictitious black and white depression era movie (also entitled The Purple Rose of Cairo) because his heroine can’t help but watch it over and over again. For her it is escape and an impossible inspiration. According to the fictitious movie, the purple rose of Cairo is supposed to grow in a pharaoh’s tomb - the expression of a perfect love. Of course no rose is purple and flowers do not grow without light. It is an impossible inspiration. It’s all Plato’s fault.
According to him our relationship to the truth is dreadful. We are like people chained facing a wall in a cave, behind them a fire, and between the fire and their benches men parading objects whose shadows project upon the wall. Hankering for the truth, the viewers take shadows for reality. But Plato has another important point. Although our sense of reality is shadowy at best, we are only capable of understanding anything, thanks to a set of ideals which are beyond real experience. The impossible inspiration guides us through our shadows and intimates that there is more.
The movies are all that counts for the heroine of “The Purple Rose of Cairo”. Her chains are the miserable life to which she is subjected by the depression of the 30’s and her abusive husband. After too many hours in a theater watching her new favorite movie, about people with ideal life styles, one of its characters impossibly leaves the screen, and while comically attempting to establish himself in the real world, falls in love with her.
Screen characters running free in New Jersey, is bad for the movie business. So the actor who played the role is enlisted in the task of capturing his shadow and returning it to the screen. When he also falls for our heroine she has the ultimate Platonic choice: perfection or reality. Which would you choose?
Friday, March 19, 2010
Departures ****
Just this way, just this once, never again
This movie borders on exquisite. No small task for a movie that not only deals with death, but with the tradition of ceremonially preparing the dead in front of mourners before their bodies are placed in the coffin.
There is always a taboo about death. People who spend time with the dead are “creepy”. It is perhaps not surprising that that those immersed in taboo are true artists in Japan. The principle of Japanese aesthetics was once summed up as follows: just this way, just this once, never again. There is nothing more mortal than we mortals. Each of us is just the way we are, just this once, never again. In Departures when the dead are prepared for cremation it is a public ceremony, wherein those present get to see the most tender treatment carried out with the utmost respect on those who have fully demonstrated their mortality.
Our hero, Daigo, departs with his wife for his childhood home after losing his job as a cellist. This departure signifies the beginning of a journey that takes him out of his comfort zone and into a pretty unusual job as a “casketer” that brings him closer to himself and ultimately culminates in the rediscovery of a Father he has lost.
In the Iliad of Homer there are a number of occasions when the warriors address a fallen ally or enemy. Even though they may have breathed their last the conversation is prolonged by the living. So it happens even now those in mourning address a corpse. In Departures the “casketers” are those who give dignity to the dead and to their mourners in the final moments…those moments when we stare into the deepest absence.
This movie borders on exquisite. No small task for a movie that not only deals with death, but with the tradition of ceremonially preparing the dead in front of mourners before their bodies are placed in the coffin.
There is always a taboo about death. People who spend time with the dead are “creepy”. It is perhaps not surprising that that those immersed in taboo are true artists in Japan. The principle of Japanese aesthetics was once summed up as follows: just this way, just this once, never again. There is nothing more mortal than we mortals. Each of us is just the way we are, just this once, never again. In Departures when the dead are prepared for cremation it is a public ceremony, wherein those present get to see the most tender treatment carried out with the utmost respect on those who have fully demonstrated their mortality.
Our hero, Daigo, departs with his wife for his childhood home after losing his job as a cellist. This departure signifies the beginning of a journey that takes him out of his comfort zone and into a pretty unusual job as a “casketer” that brings him closer to himself and ultimately culminates in the rediscovery of a Father he has lost.
In the Iliad of Homer there are a number of occasions when the warriors address a fallen ally or enemy. Even though they may have breathed their last the conversation is prolonged by the living. So it happens even now those in mourning address a corpse. In Departures the “casketers” are those who give dignity to the dead and to their mourners in the final moments…those moments when we stare into the deepest absence.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
The Invention of Lying **
Is the Truth Overrated?
In “The Invention of Lying” we get to imagine a world where no one can tell a lie – not just that they won’t tell a lie, but that they cannot even imagine anything beyond the truth. If it can’t be touched it’s not even imagined. There is not possibility, only actuality. We were using the movie to talk to our son about the value of telling the truth but instead learned the value of the lie.
For example, much of the film’s comedy is built around the absolute necessity of lying when it comes to social graces (who hasn’t been there?). But more surprisingly, the film gets you to think about how the possibility of a lie is intricately connected to our ability to see and grasp what is really essential.
The inventor, thanks to his gift for prevarication, becomes nearly a god in his world. He has money, a very strange kind of fame and yet he lacks the woman that he loves because he refuses to lie in order to convince her to marry him. The woman our inventor loves seems a pretty obnoxious choice, precisely because she has only an eye for the surface. No matter what our hero achieves in this world, she can’t forget that his genes will produce “unattractive” children. When it comes to the essentials, lying is not a useful tool. And yet, seeing what is essential needs the possibility of lying. The ability to consider plausible alternatives to what happens to be the case means knowing what underlies the possibilities. Were there no horizon of possibility, the essential would lurk behind the actual and remain undiscovered. Our hero, because he wants what is essential, manages to impregnate his love with it. Against her “better” judgment she gives birth to a genuine love for him, one that lets his shortcomings function as a signature for his noble soul. Holding out for the truth gives the essential a chance to shine.
Of course such observations will be lost on a twelve year old who has a gift for lying. But one wonders if they can be found by an American public.
In “The Invention of Lying” we get to imagine a world where no one can tell a lie – not just that they won’t tell a lie, but that they cannot even imagine anything beyond the truth. If it can’t be touched it’s not even imagined. There is not possibility, only actuality. We were using the movie to talk to our son about the value of telling the truth but instead learned the value of the lie.
For example, much of the film’s comedy is built around the absolute necessity of lying when it comes to social graces (who hasn’t been there?). But more surprisingly, the film gets you to think about how the possibility of a lie is intricately connected to our ability to see and grasp what is really essential.
The inventor, thanks to his gift for prevarication, becomes nearly a god in his world. He has money, a very strange kind of fame and yet he lacks the woman that he loves because he refuses to lie in order to convince her to marry him. The woman our inventor loves seems a pretty obnoxious choice, precisely because she has only an eye for the surface. No matter what our hero achieves in this world, she can’t forget that his genes will produce “unattractive” children. When it comes to the essentials, lying is not a useful tool. And yet, seeing what is essential needs the possibility of lying. The ability to consider plausible alternatives to what happens to be the case means knowing what underlies the possibilities. Were there no horizon of possibility, the essential would lurk behind the actual and remain undiscovered. Our hero, because he wants what is essential, manages to impregnate his love with it. Against her “better” judgment she gives birth to a genuine love for him, one that lets his shortcomings function as a signature for his noble soul. Holding out for the truth gives the essential a chance to shine.
Of course such observations will be lost on a twelve year old who has a gift for lying. But one wonders if they can be found by an American public.
Pirate Radio **
Just How Important Is Rock-n-Roll?
When the words ‘rock and roll will never die’ are sung, no one is making an assertion about a style of music, or a form of entertainment; it's a fundamental affirmation of life. The phenomenon of pirate radio counted on that affirmation, but I don’t think that the movie does. It finds the radio personalities on board rather dated, and it wants us to know that the best days of our life our over. The movie is embarrassed that people actually took rock and roll so seriously; consider its treatment of Bob, the graveyard shift DJ, who would rather drown than abandon his albums.
But as my wife pointed out to me, rock and roll changed the way generations are. People twenty and thirty years younger than the Woodstock generation can understand and appreciate its music whereas those ten years older cannot be bothered. The divide is abysmal, because music ceased to be a form of entertainment, something for diversion or recreation, and became a way to envision the world and find one’s place in it. Now most of the Woodstock generation has probably become the 401k generation and like the movie makers is uncomfortable about its memories of 1967. Whether these baby boomers have the honesty to realize that 401k’s are less worthy to contemplate than say “Blonde on Blonde” only time will tell. The extent to which this movie "rocks our boat" is the extent to which it is good. The objective of the movie should have been to convince us to get out the discs and spin them again; but you tell me if it has the courage of its conviction.
When the words ‘rock and roll will never die’ are sung, no one is making an assertion about a style of music, or a form of entertainment; it's a fundamental affirmation of life. The phenomenon of pirate radio counted on that affirmation, but I don’t think that the movie does. It finds the radio personalities on board rather dated, and it wants us to know that the best days of our life our over. The movie is embarrassed that people actually took rock and roll so seriously; consider its treatment of Bob, the graveyard shift DJ, who would rather drown than abandon his albums.
But as my wife pointed out to me, rock and roll changed the way generations are. People twenty and thirty years younger than the Woodstock generation can understand and appreciate its music whereas those ten years older cannot be bothered. The divide is abysmal, because music ceased to be a form of entertainment, something for diversion or recreation, and became a way to envision the world and find one’s place in it. Now most of the Woodstock generation has probably become the 401k generation and like the movie makers is uncomfortable about its memories of 1967. Whether these baby boomers have the honesty to realize that 401k’s are less worthy to contemplate than say “Blonde on Blonde” only time will tell. The extent to which this movie "rocks our boat" is the extent to which it is good. The objective of the movie should have been to convince us to get out the discs and spin them again; but you tell me if it has the courage of its conviction.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
The Private Lives of Pippa Lee ***
What Comes Next
You may come to this movie looking for a lot of meaning and given that, the ending might disappoint you. But don’t be disappointed because what you are getting instead is a whole lot of truth. While Pippa Lee (played brilliantly by Robin Wright) is described as “an enigma” in the opening scenes of the movie and is in fact a rather peculiar woman with a colorful past, in many ways she is very much like the rest of us. She struggles to weave the threads of her life into some kind of meaningful pattern. While not a chick flick, this is a woman’s movie…and not just a woman’s movie, but an American woman’s tale. A portrait of the American deconstructed life where you wake up in your 50’s in the midst of the busy world you’ve created to protect yourself and you’re just not able to buy into your own shit anymore. Working as a metaphor for a “great awakening”, Pippa discovers that while sleeping she raids the refrigerator and drives to the convenient store to buy cigarettes where an equally troubled younger man with a tattoo of Jesus on his chest (Keanu Reeves) awaits. Just as she starts questioning her own sanity and getting kicked out of pottery classes, she discovers her much older husband is having a hard time buying into his shit as well. We also learn a bit more about the secret guilt that binds them. While infidelity is a major plot theme, this is not a move about affairs nor is it a movie about marriage. Rather it’s about our willingness to face ourselves and what comes next in a life that is not only alarmingly unpredictable but just might not ever answer all the questions we have about ourselves. Towards the end of the movie we find Pippa embarking on a journey and declaring “…I’m just going to see what comes next”. I’m reminded of the Stephen Dobyns poem, How to Like It. It’s last stanza reads…
How is it possible to want so many things
and still want nothing? The man wants to sleep
and wants to hit his head again and again
against a wall. Why is it all so difficult?
But the dog says, Let's go make a sandwich.
Let's make the tallest sandwich anyone's ever seen.
And that's what they do and that's where the man's
wife finds him, staring into the refrigerator
as if into the place where the answers are kept
the ones telling why you get up in the morning
and how it is possible to sleep at night,
answers to what comes next and how to like it.
You may come to this movie looking for a lot of meaning and given that, the ending might disappoint you. But don’t be disappointed because what you are getting instead is a whole lot of truth. While Pippa Lee (played brilliantly by Robin Wright) is described as “an enigma” in the opening scenes of the movie and is in fact a rather peculiar woman with a colorful past, in many ways she is very much like the rest of us. She struggles to weave the threads of her life into some kind of meaningful pattern. While not a chick flick, this is a woman’s movie…and not just a woman’s movie, but an American woman’s tale. A portrait of the American deconstructed life where you wake up in your 50’s in the midst of the busy world you’ve created to protect yourself and you’re just not able to buy into your own shit anymore. Working as a metaphor for a “great awakening”, Pippa discovers that while sleeping she raids the refrigerator and drives to the convenient store to buy cigarettes where an equally troubled younger man with a tattoo of Jesus on his chest (Keanu Reeves) awaits. Just as she starts questioning her own sanity and getting kicked out of pottery classes, she discovers her much older husband is having a hard time buying into his shit as well. We also learn a bit more about the secret guilt that binds them. While infidelity is a major plot theme, this is not a move about affairs nor is it a movie about marriage. Rather it’s about our willingness to face ourselves and what comes next in a life that is not only alarmingly unpredictable but just might not ever answer all the questions we have about ourselves. Towards the end of the movie we find Pippa embarking on a journey and declaring “…I’m just going to see what comes next”. I’m reminded of the Stephen Dobyns poem, How to Like It. It’s last stanza reads…
How is it possible to want so many things
and still want nothing? The man wants to sleep
and wants to hit his head again and again
against a wall. Why is it all so difficult?
But the dog says, Let's go make a sandwich.
Let's make the tallest sandwich anyone's ever seen.
And that's what they do and that's where the man's
wife finds him, staring into the refrigerator
as if into the place where the answers are kept
the ones telling why you get up in the morning
and how it is possible to sleep at night,
answers to what comes next and how to like it.
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