Editing a faith-focused website like Beliefnet, it's hard not to dream of the star writers I wish we could get to write for us. And who is bigger than Jesus Christ himself? Alas, he hasn't been on the freelance market for a while--or so I thought. Somehow the humor magazine The Onion got him to contribute an opinion piece in the current issue.
In "No Way I'm Saving That Guy," the Man From Nazareth tells us he's finally reached the limit of his heretofore-unlimited forgiving nature. Acknowledging that he is "supposed to be all-merciful, universally loving, the Light and the Way and everything," Mr. Christ goes on to blast the owner of a local automative shop (though he refrains from saying what locality that is), listing his many faults. He continues:
Don't get Me wrong. I'm extremely forgiving--to a fault, maybe. I've absolved some of the worst people you can imagine. We've got thieves, adulterers, murderers, even Romans sent to persecute my followers out the wazoo up here. In fact, if you ask Biblical scholars or learned clergy, they'll go so far as to tell you My capacity for forgiveness is infinite. Well, that's usually true. But not with this a----e.
A word to Jesus: It's true that The Onion has some of the most biting religious satire out there and can always be counted on for some laugh-out-loud reading. But, please. Beliefnet is the biggest spiritual website around, and I'm sure we can fit you into our roster of columnists. Gimme a call, and we can discuss terms.
The devil I await is the one wearing Prada, of course.
Though the idea of embodying the devil in female form is not terribly original, I tore through Lauren Weisberger's payback of a novel, "The Devil Wears Prada"--a thinly veiled "fictionalized" account of Weisberger's stint as the tortured assistant of none other than the Queen of Fashion herself: Anna Wintour, editor in chief of Vogue. The story is a deliciously hellish portrayal of the underside of the glitter and glamour of the runway and its fashionista critics and connoisseurs. I am excited to see it portrayed on the big screen when the movie version of "The Devil Wears Prada" opens tomorrow, and despite the fact that the famously fashionable are bemoaning the film's "lack of chic" according to Ruth La Ferla's article in today's New York Times, "The Duds of 'The Devil Wears Prada.'"
Though the film's director, David Frankel, apparently aimed to create a "magical kingdom of fashion" for movie-goers, he missed the mark, La Ferla reports. Rather, the film portrays "a caricature of what people who don't work in fashion think fashion people look like."
Regardless of the pan--at least from the runway angle--I'm excited to see Meryl Streep's stint as the devil in couture clothing as she plays the role of Miranda Priestly, the Anna Wintour-like character.
John Holland is the perfect psychic for the History Channel. He eschews the usual gimmicks of media mediums, the schmaltziness of John Edward or the histrionics of "Most Haunted" and "Ghost Town"'s Derek Acorah, and even goes so far as to say, with a slight roll of the eyes, that although he's able to take on personality traits of people who've passed, he's "not being possessed."
Holland, a Boston born-and-bred psychic medium, is apparently well-known on the lecture and book circuits, but is looking to break into the lucrative world that is cable television with "Psychic History."
In the pilot episode John is taken to Waco, Texas, to the former site of the Branch Davidian compound, Mount Carmel. Currently, nothing occupies the site other than a small non-descript church. All signs and identifying markers were either removed or covered. Holland is not told where he's going and arrives blindfolded. He is able to relive the events and answer some of the mysteries surrounding the 1993 siege: Yes, the Branch Davidians shot first, and yes, some of the Davidians were being held against their will. What may be most remarkable is that Holland is able to get readings off of a house in L.A. that once housed weapons used in the siege. Apparently, this information was only known by police. (The pilot episode is being re-aired July 8 at 5 p.m.)
My only quibble with the show is an incredible credulity-stretching moment when John is taken to the garage where Lee Harvey Oswald was assassinated, as a sort of warm-up to Waco. In this very non-descript parking garage, accompanied by the law enforcement officer handcuffed to Oswald that day, Holland is able to determine that they are at the site of the shooting, but then seems to say that Oswald was a generous person. While the former officer completely disagrees with this assessment, the narrator chimes in with a line about how "John may have been right after all," as his assassin Jack Ruby was known to be a very giving man. If that isn't trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, then what is?
The show is typical History Channel treatment, featuring one-on-ones with experts and participants, for the most part properly couching language so as to not present Holland's readings as absolute fact and leaving room for differing viewpoints. Plus, an investigative reporter from the Dallas Morning News accompanies Holland in order to verify what he's saying.
Whether you believe in psychic abilities or not, "Psychic History" is an interesting, remarkably balanced show for the genre.
Earlier this week, Oprah held a Dr. Phil-like parental advice-giving session, yet not with Dr. Phil himself--her show about on-camera counseling for families in crisis was hosted by none other than the ubiquitous Rabbi Shmuley Boteach, author of many popular books, including his most recent, "10 Conversations You Need to Have with Your Children." Rabbi Shmuley is no stranger to television, either--he hosts his own show, called "Shalom in the Home," airs on TLC, Monday nights at 10 p.m.
His appearance on Oprah's show included no shortage of "Shmuleyisms"--bits of wisdom that this celebrity rabbi offers to parents and kids unhappy at home, quite like the popular TV nannies that many of my friends with children watch religiously every week. "Shmuleyisms" are generally straightforward and certainly not earth-shattering, and include simple views like the following:
"Many parents believe they can take a hammer and chisel and sculpt their children into an image of what they want them to be. Instead, it's much more effective to get [your children] to hear their own inner voice of what they want to be."
Also:
"Parenting is done with two hands--the right hand is unconditional love, and the left hand is establishing boundaries amidst that unconditional love. That is the role of a parent--love and discipline."
On Oprah, Rabbi Shmuley packed the salvation of four families into one hour, departing from his regular "Shalom in the Home" formula, which focuses just on one family per hour-long episode. Each family story arc on Oprah included the requisite embarassing camera-in-the-home footage of parental incompetence and bratty childish behavior, followed by a Rabbi Shmuley miracle advice session, followed (in most cases) by happy-ending footage of a family excursion orchestrated by the rabbi himself, talking them through success all the way.
As I am one of those people who watches reality TV with my hands over my face, not able to suffer through the public humiliation of others, I can't say that after Rabbi Shmuley's Oprah debut I'll be canceling my Monday night plans to make it home in time for "Shalom in the Home," but it was interesting to see a "male nanny" taking control of the reality-parenting market for once--and a rabbi at that.
This week's US Weekly features a headline that one might expect to find on an issue of the magazine Guideposts rather than on one of the nation's top gossip magazines: "Kevin's Last Chance: A Christian life coach helps Britney forgive as she struggles to save her family."
It seems that the once-again-pregnant popster has completely cut Kabblah out of her life, and is returning to the religion of her roots to help resolve her rocky relationship with her husband of 21 months, Kevin Federline. According to the magazine, a source reveals that Spears and Federline "have agreed to continue to pray together and put their faith back into their marriage, recomitting."
The same source reports that, "the fresh start stems from a four-hour conversation encouraged by Spears' newly acquired Christian life coach"--a conversation which apparently took place before her head-scratching interview with Matt Lauer.
For all the headlines of "Christian life coachs gives Britney and hubby faith in marriage," the article offers remarkably little else, other than the aforementioned quotes, about that Christian life coach or the couple's faith life. In fact, it goes on to talk about Federline still showing some party-boy proclivities. And, we don't even know what to make of Britney's brunette and bare spread in Harper's Bazaar, except to paraphrase the late Senator Lloyd Benston and say, "I saw Demi Moore's 'Vanity Fair' spread... and you are no Demi Moore."
Perhaps US Weekly has learned what Newsweek discovered long ago: Religion on the cover sells.
Of the two time-travel related movies available this July 4th weekend--and sans the existence of a wonderful July 4-ish movie like "National Treasure" or "Independence Day"--here's why I highly recommend "Click" over its play-with-temporal-reality competition, "The Lake House."
First, I'm a guy: Though "Click" is fairly close to chick-flicky, it's not quite there. Next, "The Lake House" offers a love story and barely delivers, while "Click" promises stupid Adam Sandler humor and overdelivers with emotion and affection. Also, "The Lake House" advertised romance and depth, but "Flick" actually delivered more of it (or at least it was less concocted).
For those who love timeshifting movies, "The Lake House" never even gives a reason or cause for the magic mailbox, changes the rules of time travel (or mailbox travel?), and then breaks them anyway, while "Click" at least makes sense within the timewarp fantasy it creates. Finally, "Click" moves from the typical Sandleresque absurdity to some real meaning by the power of timewarp, while "The Lake House" loses more credibility as it goes along and falls off the table at the end. With all respect to my fellow Idol Chatter blogger Donna Freitas, I found "The Lake House" to be disappointing, while "Click" was at least unpainful.
Why write about either one? There's something deeply spiritual about the possibility of conquering time and space, transcending time, or overcoming the boundaries of our three dimensions. It is something that only God has done in history thus far, and our fascination with it is one of the closest flirtations with deity that we entertain in our pop culture. In the meantime, though, I think I'll go rent "Back to the Future," "Contact," "Minority Report," "The Final Countdown," "Frequency," or even "The Terminator." They're all light years better than "The Lake House," and at least a few clicks stronger than Sandler's latest.
Tuesday night, I had the pleasure of watching the Boston Red Sox beat the New York Mets 9-4 at Fenway Park. But as much as Boston baseball can feel like a religion, I'd never personally witnessed any warm-fuzzies at the ballpark...until last night.
Before the game, the 1986 Red Sox were honored on the 20th anniversary of the team's storied pennant- and division-winning season. I don't have to tell any baseball fans out there that this is also the 20th anniversary of the team's storied collapse and stunning World Series loss...to the New York Mets. That was the year they wheeled champagne into the Red Sox locker room only to roll it right back out. That was the year a ball slipped through Bill Buckner's hands, and rolled tragically between his legs.
But as each retired player (of the '86 Red Sox, only Roger Clemens is still playing professional baseball) jogged out onto the field to stand in their old field positions, there was nothing but love from the stands. The announcer made a specific point when he announced Buckner (who did not attend because he was taking his child to look at colleges) to say that the great player will always be welcome at Fenway Park. Everyone cheered.
To add to the positive mo-jo, former Red Sox pitcher Pedro Martinez, who now plays for the Mets, was also given an official warm Fenway Park welcome, and when he came out to wave to the crowd, everyone at Fenway was on their feet.
Listening to sports radio on the way home from the game, the host told a caller who called the ovations "bittersweet," that those feelings weren't fair. It was time to move on from the painful past, to "let it go" and celebrate 1986 for the victory that it was. It was time to let that year's later defeat fade into safely distant history.
But then host pointed out that the warm welcome, the happy nostalgia, would probably not have been possible prior to the 2004 Red Sox's World Series victory, the team's first since 1918.
As much pride and excitement surrounds Red Sox baseball, there also remains a lot of pent-up frustration and disappointment with roots in that ballpark. Seems one World Series win wasn't enough to take the "bitter" out of "bittersweet" for that caller. But for the rest of the fans who stood and clapped as those Red Sox legends took the field, it was a brand new day.
Superman is back, and not a moment too soon. The world is falling apart, and now even Lex Luthor is being let out of jail. Does the world need a savior? That's a question pondered by the characters of the exciting new "Superman Returns." But can there be any doubt that it does?
The first new Superman movie in 19 years, "Superman Returns" is a worthy successor to the iconic 1978 original "Superman: The Movie" (forget its three increasingly bad sequels). Director Bryan Singer hits all the right notes here in honoring the look and feel of that movie--literally, when it comes to the score, which borrows heavily from its predecessor--while successfully making an original, relevant film that avoids any taint of mere literal-minded homage.
This is not a Superman of the ironic and cynical, in the way that many superhero movies have been lately; the Man of Steel in 2006 is still a man who struts around, unabashed, in a red cape and blue body suit with a big 'S' on it. And yet, he's also not the same stoic, don't-show-your-weakness 1950s father figure of the past.
Singer spares us any extended explorations of Superman's dark past or troubled psyche, and there are no moments when he hangs up his cape to go find himself in Tibet. But those moments of despair, longing, and doubt are there, all the more powerful for the fact that they're hinted at and alluded to rather than tackled head on. How can they not be there? In "Superman Returns," our hero comes back to Earth after five years away, during which he confirmed that, with his home planet of Krypton destroyed, he is indeed the only survivor; once back, he finds that the love of his life, Lois Lane, has moved on and is engaged to someone else. Sitting in a bar as Clark Kent, brooding over a beer, he hears of a tragedy in progress--innocent civilians imperiled, and one of them is none other than Lois herself. After the briefest moment of hesitation, he snaps into action, of course. Does he do it for love or altruism? In this case, it doesn't matter.
I'll leave it to others to explore the Christ parallels in this film--suffice it to say they're there in force--but I was struck by a very different side of it. Yes, the Man of Steel is the powerful other-worldly superhero, come to defend truth and justice. But this Superman film makes clear that it's not a one-man show. Superman has his vulnerabilities--physical and spiritual--while conversely and more importantly, the world is saved by a lot of people reaching deep inside themselves to find their own inner superman, the spark of moral and physical greatness that they didn't know was within them. It is only then that salvation truly comes. Call it the Gnostic Superman.
None of this is entirely new to "Superman Returns"--little can be fully new in a story told and retold for almost 80 years--but it is an exciting, fresh, and refreshing take, one that is true to the spirit of Superman while also presenting us all with a unique challenge for today: Don't look to the heavens for anything more than a bird or a plane; look inside yourself for Superman.
So how was Nicole Kidman able to wed Keith Urban in a Catholic church?
Kidman, baptized and raised Catholic, is one of the most famous divorcees in filmdom these days, her 1990 marriage to fellow actor and former Catholic Tom Cruise having collapsed in 2001. In the Catholic Church, marriage is for life, no matter what a civil divorce court might rule, unless the couple can obtain an annulment from a Catholic marriage tribunal, a process that typically takes several years. Kidman and country singer Urban announced their engagement only two months before their wedding ceremony, which was performed by a Catholic priest last weekend at the Cardinal Cerretti Chapel in Kidman's native Sydney, Australia.
Here is the lucky break that enabled the couple to proceed speedily to the altar despite Kidman's divorce: Her marriage to Cruise took place in a Church of Scientology ceremony (both were practicing Scientologists back then, and Cruise still is).
The Catholic Church requires its members to be married by a Catholic priest in a Catholic sacramental ceremony, so the Cruise-Kidman marriage was what the church calls "invalid as to form." Proving a defect of form is relatively easy. The rules of diocesan marriage tribunals vary, but typically, the Catholic party or parties simply have to file copies of their baptismal certificates along with their marriage certificate (which would show who performed the ceremony) and a copy of their divorce decree. The process takes at most a couple of months--after which the marriage is declared null and void.
Thus, in the eyes of the church, Kidman, who returned to her childhood Catholic faith after her divorce from Cruise, has been married only once: to Keith Urban.
"I’m sick to death of Jesus. I feel that Jesus and Paris Hilton are both overexposed." Loud and obnoxious statements like that should offend my Midwestern evangelical sensibilities just enough to make me want to rant about Kathy Griffin, the pseudo-celebrity and stand-up comedienne who these days expresses her snarky "militant atheist" views on her reality series “My Life on the D List.” But I can’t quite bring myself to do that. Even if I am not a big fan of every word that comes out of her mouth, I thoroughly enjoy her show, which recently returned for a second season on Tuesday nights. I've decided to give her a new title to add to her "D list" standing--my favorite celebrity atheist. (And we here at Idol Chatter think everyone should have a favorite atheist.)
Griffin has carved her comedy club career by riffing on the foibles of A-list celebrities, but her reality series is more about poking fun at the flaws in her own nature. While all reality shows may be edited to death in post-production for maximum dramatic impact, I still can't help but admire the way Griffin--who executive-produces her show--allows some of her most vulnerable and unattractive moments to play out on the camera. When Jay Leno makes a cheap joke about her looks when she appears on "The Tonight Show," she lets the cameras follow her offstage ,where we see her burst into tears. When she makes a crude joke at movie star Renee Zelleweger's expense only to have Zelleweger shower Griffin with dozens of roses in response, Griffin turns the entire episode into a mea culpa to Zelleweger for taking the moral low road in her act--again.
But it is her generosity and loyality that I find most endearing. Her unflagging work for charity was around long before her show came to TV--instead of wedding gifts she aseked her guests to donate to charity instead, for example. No stunt for charity is too crazy, as viewers find out when Griffin ebays a weekend at her house to a complete stranger just to raise some money for Hurricane Katrina relief efforts. And even though she is vehemently opposed to the war in Iraq, Griffin goes on a stand-up tour into some of the most dangerous parts of Iraq to entertain the troops--places where other celebrities have never performed. She is also unabashedly emotional when she talks about how much she loves her (now former) husband, Matt, and her desire for them to stay reconciled after they filed for divorce last year. (So far, so good.)
To be perfectly honest, part of me wants to be a just a little more like Kathy Griffin. I could stand to learn to be a little more transparent about my emotions, a little more outspoken in the face of injustice, and a little more honest when I screw up. In return for what I have gained from watching Griffin, maybe next season she'd let me help her do a little work on re-thinking that whole existence of God thing.
With the amount of TV that most of us watch, it's inevitable--much as we try to resist or deny it--that the small screen shapes our worldview and our national conversation. To that end, a significant cultural leader passed away this weekend. Aaron Spelling was 83.
The producer of such megahit television shows as "Charlie's Angels," "The Love Boat," "Fantasy Island," "Dynasty," and "Beverly Hills, 90210" gained a reputation from critics as being a formulaic producer of "jiggle TV." According to the critics, he was after ratings more than writing, prioritizing superstars over substance. He was known as a crowd-pleaser, but I always saw him as an unbelievable crowd-shaper, and I believe that he affected your life and mine more than we knew.
Our parents may have seen him act in "I Love Lucy" or "Dragnet." Just about everyone from the Baby Boomer generation not only watched his shows but probably acquired their television-watching habit itself from his creations, including "Starsky and Hutch," "S.W.A.T.," "Hart to Hart," "Vegas," "The Rookies," "The Mod Squad," and "T.J. Hooker." I think the "The Boy in the Plastic Bubble" put the "made-for-television" movie genre back on the map, and probably kept John Travolta's career barely on track at the time. "Charlie's Angels" once gained a 50-plus ratings share--for a rerun.
For those slightly younger, "Dynasty" may have been the first exposure to Spelling's work; it influenced not only TV ratings but countless magazine and tabloid covers for years. "Beverly Hills, 90210" and "Melrose Place" introduced an entire younger generation to Spelling's work, as did "7th Heaven," which completed the circle (at least in my family), as my kids got hooked on it and still are.
If Spelling's shows didn't float our boat, certainly the stars he discovered have. A list including the likes of Julia Roberts, Joan Collins, Heather Locklear, John Forsythe, Linda Evans, Farrah Fawcett, Shannen Doherty, Luke Perry, Jennie Garth, Jason Priestly, Jaclyn Smith, Kate Jackson, William Shatner, and his daughter, Tori, were all discovered or re-discovered through one or more of Spelling's productions. Imagine how our shows--and our culture--would be different had these actors not had a career (or second career) launched through Mr. Spelling.
In all, he produced and/or had an executive role in almost 200 television series and movies, which at one point earned him the "Guinness Book of World Records" citation for the most credits as a television producer. Though most of the records in the "Guinness Book" can be considered irrelevant, I think Aaron Spelling's is one that matters more than we realize. He shaped what we saw and who we saw--and to some degree the values we've chosen and role models we've adopted--more than even he probably realized.
Those who knew him say he just enjoyed selling and producing a good show. I think we know he did both--and quite a bit more.
Were your weekend’s activities planned around exciting (and some ho-hum) World Cup soccer elimination matches? Mine were, and happily, here in the U.S. I had the benefit of daytime broadcasts from Germany. And though my biggest problem was fighting for television rights with my almost three-year-old daughter, I realize there are much worse problems that can come from a World Cup obsession.
Like the threat of being defrocked.
Seems World Cup soccer is cramping the religious style of some Buddhist monks in Thailand. IBN Live reports that monks who have been staying up past midnight to catch the soccer matches have missed collecting morning alms the next day.
So is it really that big a deal? I admit to rushing through prayers on a commercial break during a crucial match! But I guess rushing through individual prayer and sleeping through religious obligations to the public have different consequences. Nearly 40,000 Cambodian monks, next door to Thailand, have been threatened with defrocking if they become too excited while watch ing the games.
Phnom Penh patriarch Non Nget told Reuters that if the monks “make noise or cheer as they watch, they will lose their monkhood.”
Not make noise or cheer as they watch World Cup soccer? Not being able to join in “God Save the Queen” along with rabid English fans? Not being able to sing “Ole, ole, ole!” when Brazil’s Ronaldinho makes his incredible moves? Not being able to scream “Goooooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!” any time any team scores a goal?
I’m praying that these monks are made of strong stuff. I’m sure they must be. Perhaps they know a way to internalize boisterous soccer enthusiasm. And if they do, I’d sure like to learn how. Then I won’t have to hear my daughter say, “No Mamma, no soccer. You’re too loud!”
One of the many reasons summer is my favorite time of year is the fact that while enjoying the view of Lake Michigan, I can also catch up on my reading. Yes, with re-runs on TV and little at the box office to grab my interest lately, it's time to turn the pages of some books that have been sitting on my nightstand for months. I chose all of my beach-lounging choices because they discuss the intersection of real life, faith, and/or pop culture from a smart and fresh perspective.
(If any Idol Chatter readers want to add some suggestions to my summer reading list, feel free to leave them in the comments box below!)
1. "Working on the Inside: The Spiritual Life Through The Eyes Of Actors": If you want to know what celebs like Liam Neeson, Kristin Chenoweth, and others really think about God , this book is an inspiring read. Author and journalist Rett Blaney does an amazing job of discussing the spiritual significance of mixing faith and art in some intriguing discussions with some A-list stars.
2. "The God Factor": This book is another series of interviews that examines the spiritual lives of public people from politicians, sports stars and actors. A variety of faiths and cultural backgrounds are represented in this book as the journalist Cathleen Falsani. Interviews an eclectic group from Muslim basketball star Hakeem Olajuwon, novelist Anne Rice, and musicians Annie Lennox and Melissa Etheridge. (You can read an excerpt of it here.)
3. "Faith & The City": If you're a twentysomething who's still making those tricky transitions into full-blown adulthood--like moving into your first apartment or searching for the career path that will make you happy--you will be able to identify with this "chick lit"-style book. While not quite as amusing as Bridget Jones or Carrie Bradshaw, Jennifer Ruisch's memoir about her life in Chicago after college is a fun, fast read that covers everything from sex to faith to the spiritual desire for lots and lots of donuts. (You'll have to read the book to understand that last part).
A British singer borrows an American president's phrase when painting graffiti on Israeli property that is characterized by Palestinians as a land grab. I'm not sure what I am more struck by: the scope of history, politics, music, and culture that came together in that one act, or the fact that some graffiti on a faraway wall made headlines across the globe.
Reuters reports that Pink Floyd frontman Roger Waters ("The Wall," "The Dark Side of the Moon") "scrawled 'tear down the wall' on the concrete panels of Israel's West Bank barrier on Wednesday." He was doing some touring before performing a concert that drew an estimated 50,000 Palestinians and Israelis. His red spray paint and marker pen--and the phrase he borrowed from President Reagan's famous reference to the Berlin wall--attracted quite a bit of attention.
"'It's a horrific edifice, this thing,' Waters told reporters as he stood beside a section of the barrier in Bethlehem. 'I've seen pictures of it, I've heard a lot about it but without being here you can't imagine how extraordinarily oppressive it is and how sad it is to see these people coming through these little holes… It's craziness.'"
Israel says they've built the wall to protect against suicide bombers. Palestinians see it as a thinly veiled attempt to claim more land. Whatever your thoughts or mine, simply the fact that a rock icon made a graffiti comment about it has drawn more attention to the conflict than the latest exposé by "60 Minutes" or "Nightline."
Waters's concert, incidentally, was moved from Tel Aviv when some of his fans complained about him playing in Israel. Instead, he performed in the Arab-Israeli village Neve Shalom, which literally means "oasis of peace." His graffiti and accompanying statements certainly didn't decrease the number of cars braving the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv Highway and Route 3 between the Latrun and Nahshon intersections to hear another rendition of really old songs by really old guys.
As far as saints go, free-standing statues, mass cards, portraits on the walls, ceramic figurines, and tiny iconic pendants that you can dangle from a chain are par for the course for anyone who grows up an Italian Catholic--namely, me--or, I'd guess, just plain Catholic regardless of ethnicity. In my house you didn't have to go far before you bumped into some martyred man or sainted lady, though, like for many Italians, St. Anthony--the famous finder of lost things--was the reigning favorite in the hearts of my grandmother and mother.
But roadside billboards? Now that's a new one.
Beginning Monday, Loyola Press, a Catholic publishing house based in Chicago, will be treating city drivers to some saintly wisdom on their commutes to and from work, with a campaign called "Use Your Common Saints." St. Jude--also know as the Patron Saint of Desperate Situations--is first on the list for billboard glory, and will be advising motorists that he "knows an alternate route" (ha ha!). A new sign will follow every two weeks until the end of August, featuring the following:
July 10: "St. Joseph says construction takes patience." July 24: "Joan of Arc says keep your cool." August 7: "St. Anthony offers roadside assistance." August 21: "St. Ignatius encourages Mass transit."
What's behind this inspired effort to quell summer road rage and breakdown despair? The instant success of their book "My Life With the Saints," by James Martin--with a dash of company social consciousness thrown in:
"Our goal is to nurture faith-filled lives," says Joseph Durepos, Loyola Press Acquisitions Director, in a press release about the campaign. "Proclaiming these messages on the Kennedy [Expressway] drives home the idea that God is with us in all that we do, even when we are stuck in traffic."
I admit, I could use more than a little assistance from St. Joseph in the patience department when I sit in N.Y.C. traffic. Maybe the saints will soon be gracing expressways beyond Chicago if the campagn is a success. Until then, I'll have to rely on my portable mass cards and pendants.
And so the dream has died, with the United States’ loss to Ghana yesterday (2-1) in the World Cup competition. Even though Italy did its part by beating Czechoslovakia (2-0), the U.S.’s loss cemented its shameful exit from the first round of the 2006 World Cup. I guess all my “bismillahs” as the U.S. maneuvered for a goal and all my prayers to God for a U.S. victory went unanswered. Them’s the breaks.
But the excitement persists, and faithful fans continue to call on the highest power to put their team over. In my opinion, it's faith (and skill, of course, and maybe some questionable calls by the referees) that drives this tournament. In fact the churches of Germany are capitalizing on the World Cup by trying to reach out to people of all religions.
An article on Forbes.com reports that thousands of churches asked for and received broadcast rights to the games: “Some are showing them on large screens in churches--others... in impromptu places of worship. Preachers have worked soccer themes into their sermons.” It seems that church officials are stressing the similarities between religion and soccer: “both have rituals, offer a sense of community, a chance to leave the ordinary behind.”
And apparently Christianity has cornered the world cup market in Germany. The article goes on to report that Muslim and Jewish communities are not undertaking similar efforts.
Too bad. It seems to me that the churches of Germany have latched onto something interesting. Want to increase attendance? Just broadcast World Cup soccer! But that doesn’t guarantee that your parishioners will listen to your message about God. As one Roman Catholic Church spokeswoman said, "We have to be realistic. Most people come here to watch soccer."
Steve Skelton--an author and minister--has been going around telling anyone who'll listen that Superman is a Christ figure. He's got a good point, what with the whole "only son sent to earth as a savior" angle. Now The Advocate tells us that the Man of Steel might be gay, or at least is an icon to gay people, what with his closeted secret identity and all.
Can both these be true? Wouldn't that make our supreme comic-book hero--gasp--a gay Christ figure?
Before making up your minds, consider these other factors: Superman might also be a Methodist, a Moses figure, a Jewish golem, or a twist on Nietzsche's ubermensch. And Bryan Singer, the director of "Superman Returns"--himself gay (and Jewish)--has called the hero "the most heterosexual character" in all his films.
Sounds to me like the Man From Krypton may be having an extended identity crisis that's leaving him unsure of his own religious leanings, religious/allegorical allusions, and sexual preferences. Maybe some super-counseling--or a turn at our Belief-o-Matic quiz--can help him sort out who he really is.
No need to wake early and drink warm beer to enjoy the World-Cup-time flap over English soccer star Wayne Rooney's new billboard for Nike, left, which has scandalized churchmen in the Sceptred Isle because it recalls the Crucifixion. "'The trivialization of Christ's suffering is highly offensive to Christians and to God," says one cleric. "This will cause real hurt to people."
The second part of this statement may turn out to be prophetic. Rooney's war cry might encourage fan violence, which European authorities finally seem to have quelled, which would be an obvious shame. But the red cross shouldn't offend Christians any more than the Swedes' yellow one or the Danes' blue one, which their fans commonly slather on their bodies. The swaths on Rooney's torso represent England's traditional banner, the flag of St. George. (The Union Jack is the standard of the United Kingdoms of England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, all of which have their own teams.) It's the banner under which King Richard Lionheart's men marched off to the Crusades--another reason, a disconcerted Labor MPs says, the image is too touchy for good taste, considering the war in Iraq.
If the red cross summons delicate associations, however, it's a coincidence of England's past (often a violent one) as an unambiguously Christian nation. Certainly no one is proposing the cross be removed from all national displays.
The Rooney ruffle comes on the heels of a smaller flap on these shores about the place advertising occupies in our media. During last week's U.S. Open golf championship, Nike ran a commercial that memorialized Tiger Wood's father, who died this spring. Critics said the spot capitalized on Earl Wood's death. But the Woods family, which gave Nike all the footage, clearly viewed it as a tribute. The ad was Tiger's way of communicating his loving grief to his fans.
Rooney's image is haunting, even hard to look at, and its power unquestionably comes in part from its resonance with Christ crucified--not the suffering of Christ itself, of course, but hundreds of thousands of depictions in Western art. Nike has a right to that history, of course, as much as anyone who is trying to capture complex feelings to communicate about what we see or believe. In other words, to create art.
It's not often I get to (a) see a movie star up close and (b) see a Broadway show. But on my first --and hopefully not last--whirlwind trip to New York, I was able to do both in one afternoon. I sat in my seat mesmerized as Ralph Fiennes ("The English Patient," "Schindler's List"), wearing a baggy suit with an ugly green tie and matching socks, made me forget his big-screen persona, as he alternately shuffled and then paced back and forth on a stark, black stage. With a twinkle in his eyes but despair in his voice, Fiennes transported me back to Depression-era Wales in search of the miraculous in the haunting Tony-nominated tragedy "The Faith Healer."
The play, on the surface, is quite simple. It is actually a series of long, long, long monologues that tell the tale of a two-bit hustler, Frank Hardy (played by Fiennes) and the two people closest to him--his lover, Grace, and his "business manager," Teddy. The motley trio travels the impoverished back roads of Wales advertising Frank's supernatural ability to heal the lame and infirmed, for a small price, of course. The story of the same heartbreaking series of events surrounding the misguided use of Frank's spiritual gift is told from the perspective of all three characters and reveals glimpses of truth in the midst of a pack of lies. The challenge for the audience is to figure out which is which.
Does Frank truly have the ability to heal others? Well, sometimes, in spite of his whiskey-induced stupor, yes, he does. Do the people who come to him actually want to be healed? In Frank's opinion, no, they don't. Is God involved in any of these healings--or in some cases, the lack of healings--or is it just mind over matter?
"The Faith Healer" neither mocks the possibility that faith in a higher power heals nor fully embraces the notion of the miraculous. Instead, it is a tortured look at what could happen to those who does not question what they put their faith in. Frank heals others not out of a sense of the divine, but rather to escape the nagging spiritual questions inside his heart. Frank only feels escape from these questions when he is healing someone, yet refuses to acknowledge the possibility of a God who gave him this gift--if it is a gift. Grace and Teddy, on the other hand, place too much faith in the frail and unhappy Frank and suffer greatly because of this. What is clear by the final, tragic scene is that in this story, faith alone cannot save anyone.
I certainly have been taught since I was a teenager to "walk by faith and not by sight," as the Bible teaches, but this particular afternoon as I left the theater and walked down a crowded Schubert Alley, I was left reflecting on my own spiritual complacency. I put my faith in other people, other things--as well as my personal beliefs--but sometimes without a lot of thought. It only took a couple of hours in a darkened theater to remind me that it is when we ask questions and struggle with doubts, that we find what is truly worthy of our faith.
Tyler Perry--and his large black-woman alter-ego, Madea--have conquered stage, screen, and more recently, page, with the best-selling "Dont Make a Black Woman Take Off Her Earrings." Now, to coincide with the DVD release of his "Madea's Family Reunion," the Hollywood darling is giving something back to his (or her?) fans by helping you create your own online family tree, complete with photos.
I'm a sucker for unique music combinations (think: Metallica's "S&M" collaboration with the San Francisco Symphony). So when I listened to the first track off Celtic punk band Flatfoot 56's soon-to-be re-released album, "Knuckles Up," I was immediately drawn in to the tribal-like drumming, electric guitar chords, and sweet mandolin playing--which soon gave rise to louder, faster drumming and more powerful guitar and mandolin playing. It was a much different sound than your standard punk song, which is usually very simple and predictable in style and arrangement (a couple of guitar chords and a screaming lead singer).
The song "This Town" is also unique in another way--it's a positive anthem for change, something you don't often hear in more traditional punk music, which is more aggressive. And then, of course, you've got the band's Christian thing.
Although Christian punk bands aren't new, they're new to me. And, this one I like. Flatfoot 56 is comprised of three brothers from the south-side of Chicago--Tobin, Justin and Kyle Bawinkel-- and their friend Josh Robieson on bagpipes and mandolin.
Lead singer Tobin, who writes most of Flatfoot's songs, is very outspoken about the Christian messages in his work. In a 2004 interview with "The Phantom Tollbooth" he said, "Our lyrics talk a lot about brotherhood; standing strong with our brothers in the Lord, under Christ's banner; being a light for Christ. Many times our lyrics talk about our struggle with sin; how God's grace is always there to pick us all up when we fall down..."
Although the album was originally released in 2005, it will be re-released on June 27th, and will include new packaging, a new and sharper re-mastered sound, and a music video for their single "Brotherhood," the album's single about the power of friendship in standing up for what one believes.
One of my favorite songs off the album is a kicked-up version of "Amazing Grace." You can listen to it streamed on Beliefnet here.
It seems that Madonna’s Kabbalah connection with Lindsay Lohan may be reaching new heights of mystical ecstacy. Perezhilton.com is featuring pictures of Lohan with a Jewish “chai” charm necklace. It is not clear whether wearing the Hebrew word for “life” around her neck actually puts the starlet firmly in the Kabbalah camp, but she isn’t a stranger to the most famous Kabbalah adornment, the red string bracelet. Perhaps, she’s just on the Hebrew hip train like Scientologist Kirstie Alley, who has been seen carrying around a satchel emblazoned with Yiddish phrases.
Regardless of Ms. Lohan’s religious leanings, it seems that the mentoring Material Girl may have made a prodigious choice in this former child star. But maybe she should hold off on giving her new friend the 900-year-old Zohar she'd given Britney Spears--and reportedly requested back when Spears rejected Kabbalah.
Tonight will mark the return of perhaps the one and only positive representation of American Muslims currently on primetime television. Unfortunately, instead of being on a show that is substantial and thought-provoking, it will be on something shallow and salacious--a reality TV show.
On the last season of CBS’ “Big Brother,” the show where a group of people are sequestered in a house and monitored by cameras 24/7, the smart but soft-spoken Kaysar Ridha became the clear fan favorite, even if he didn’t win the grand prize. With this season of “Big Brother” being an “all-star” season in which former house guests can be voted back into the Big Brother house by fans, it is almost inevitable that Ridha, the son of Iraqi immigrants, will be one of the former housemates to return.
Ridha, who is a graphic designer and has used his “Big Brother” fame to start a clothing company called IRockStar, said often last season that the only reason he went on the show was to help raise understanding of the issues Muslims in the Middle East as well as America face.
With the war still going on in Iraq, I think that is a better reason than most to go on a reality show. And I admit I liked watching Kaysar last season, and I do hope he returns for this season. I just don’t know if I can take another three months or four months of listening to host Julie Chen ask inane questions of the house guests or watch one more idiotic challenge to win “Head of Household.”
Couldn’t those of us who are not "Big Brother" fans just vote for CBS to give him a sitcom instead?
There comes a time in every musical artist or band's life when he, she, or they recognize the superior majesty of another being and succumb to his control. I refer, of course, to the superiority of sound engineer Brian Eno, who has cast his spell in the past over Talking Heads, U2, and David Bowie, among others. That moment of surrender has now happened to Paul Simon.
Simon's new album, "Surprise," can't really be called a collaboration between Eno and Simon, since the songwriter's restless patter and wondering voice are too intimately recognizable. But there are moments where Eno's skein of background sound seems to levitate the usually solidly earthbound Simon into a more transcendent musical place.
Which is entirely suitable to what is Simon's most openly transcendent album. He has spoken in earlier songs of living in "an age of miracles and wonder," but awe is not the prevailing spirit of the new album. "Surprise," which has the wide-awake face of a baby on its cover, is the work of a man looking back on a life mostly lived, one who claims to be tired. "Who's gonna love you when your looks are gone?" Simon asks in the song "Outrageous." And he is thinking not only of his dotage, but beyond. Since his days with Art Garfunkel, Simon has sung about how to live rightly within situations (like the world, we are meant to understand) that are inherently morally compromised. Drug dealers, lovelorn misfits, bad kids on the lam, broken-down boxers have all spoken through Simon's voice. On "Surprise," they all seem to show up looking for peace at the end. "I want to rid my heart of envy, and cleanse my soul of rage before I'm through," he sings in "Wartime Prayers."
There is some direct discussion of religion on the album, much of it championing a liberal Democrat's view of the Higher Power. The opening track reduces the notion of individual religions, sects, or denominations to a matter of regionalism. The song's title, "How Can You Live in the Northeast?" is followed by a list of questions, including "How can you be a Christian? How can you be a Jew? How can you be a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Hindu?" and follows this by asking, "If the answer is infinite light, why do we sleep in the dark?" A bout of conscience, Simon sings, "sure don't feel like love." It sounds more like low self-esteem.
But the surprise of the album—the surprise for all of his characters and for all of us--is that God does exist, and Simon's not afraid to say it. To his question in "Outrageous"--Who's gonna love you when your looks are gone?"--he answers simply, "God will." Even in "I Don't Believe," in which the speaker doubts whether even kindness is anything more than a fairy tale, he ends with a plea that one's love not be "all that there is or could ever exist."
In a time when even churchmen urge us to approach faith from a place of doubt, Simon approaches doubt from the point of view of faith.
For those who last watched Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock in the thriller "Speed," re-imagining their relationship at a much slower pace and across different times in "The Lake House" might be challenging at first, but it's worth the effort.
The film, which centers around a breathtaking lake house designed by Alex Wyler's (played by Keanu Reeves) father, is at once occupied by Alex, a young architect, and Kate Forster (played by Sandra Bullock), a young doctor--only they exist simultaneously in different years. Through a series of letters left in the mailbox, Alex and Kate discover what seems like the impossible: They are communicating across time, Alex still living in the year 2004 and Kate living in our time, the year 2006. As they puzzle over this mystery, their letters become quite humorous at points and poignant in others, giving new meaning to the idea behind "Instant Messaging."
Though much of the plot is easily guessed from early on, the romance that emerges between Alex and Kate is quite palpable;this despite the fact that, for almost the entirety of the film, each is unavailable to the other--except through their letters. Film reviewers Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat express the allure of "The Lake House" beautifully:
It is waiting that holds the key to everything that matters in this love story. Kate's favorite novel is "Persuasion" by Jane Austen, and it celebrates this virtue. Carlo Carretto, one of the great spiritual writers of our time, once spent a number of years living by himself as a hermit, praying in the Sahara desert. When someone asked him what he thought he heard God saying to him in all that silence and after all that prayer, Carretto replied: "God is telling us: learn to wait--wait--wait for your God, wait for love, be patient with everything. Everything that is worthwhile must be waited for!
The film itself moves at a slow pace--yet not slow in the way that it drags. Instead, it progresses calmly, the characters taking their time as they take in each other and their odd situation, and contemplate whether or not a love for them in real-time will ever be possible.
Anyone who has ever waited for love will understand the slowness and mystery behind this odd love affair, and anyone who believes in waiting for love will find "The Lake House" an encouraging film to watch.
Dr. Judith Dushku is best known--in some circles, at least--for being a professor of government at Suffolk University in Boston. She also spent time as the dean of their satellite campus in Senegal, where she became involved with various African relief charities, a job which continues even now that she's back on U.S. soil. You'd probably know her best, though, as the mom of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Tru Calling" star Eliza Dushku.
She's also an outspoken Mormon feminist who was profiled in last weekend's Boston Globe.
Dr. Dushku is a founder of Exponent II, an online women's Mormon collective. The project's first inception was in the 1970s, when a group of LDS (Latter-day Saint) women from all over the spectrum--including Dushku--started having informal chats about their faith and their feminism. During the 1990s, several women were excommunicated from the church for expressing feminist beliefs that some considered to be opposing official doctrine. At that point, says Dushku, their feminist collective also became a support group.
One of Exponent II's major topics, according to the Globe, is the lack of women in Church leadership roles. Dushku, who gives speeches on subjects like "How Mormon Hymns Saved the Gospel from the Mormon Church." She believes that these hymns contain messages of peace, unity, and helping others. Clearly, these principles inspired and informed her activism. It's also pretty clear who trained Eliza to be such a strong woman.
Speaking of Eliza, the actress smokes cigarettes, drinks caffeine, and engages in other habits that go against her religious upbringing. Although she no longer considers herself a Mormon, her choice of roles don't go over easily with her family, particularly her grandmother, who once personally called Michael Ovitz to complain about a sex scene Eliza did on "Buffy."
Who's the biggest sinner in Hollywood? The E! Channel promises to answer that question in its new seven-week series, "The Seven Deadly Hollywood Sins." Starting tonight, the series will provide a cheesy and cheeky look at how Hollywood celebs indulge in each of the seven deadly sins--anger, pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, and sloth--with tonight' s episode focusing on the sin of gluttony.
While I am sure that tonight's episode with have illustrations galore of Hollywood's excessive and self-indulgent ways--which will make my own late-night love affair with my refrigerator pale in comparison--it is a blurb on a future episode on envy that has me intrigued. That episode on envy will focus on a secret rivalry in Hollywood between Kabbalah and Scientology.
I am also hoping the series will have a bonus episode that will provide an explanation for numerous other Hollywood sins, which are not deadly but are certainly annoying--like "greenlighting" production on Jack Black's latest film "Nacho Libre," for example.
While an avalanche of “reality TV” shows fill our airwaves, I’m still glad for seasons like this, when the truest reality TV—sports television—has a large presence. Rarely is that presence greater than the once-every-four-years season of World Cup soccer, the NBA playoff finals, the NHL playoff dinals, and the U.S. Open of golf. In this season thus far, here are my top most and least inspiring moments from the events, which are as authentic and unrehearsed as “reality TV” can get:
Most Inspiring #5: Phil Michelson taking responsibility for his blown opportunity at the U.S. Open, calling himself an “idiot.”
Least Inspiring #5: Michelson blowing his lead by making very poor choices down the stretch.
Most Inspiring #4: The U.S. scoring its first point ever in Europe in World Cup soccer, despite being a man down.
Least Inspiring #4: Brazil’s heralded “Renaldo” showing himself to be embarrassingly old and out of shape, a living icon and soccer brand that is clearly less sharp than the young man who replaced him
Most Inspiring #3: The Edmonton Oilers coming back from a 3-games-to-1-deficit.
Least Inspiring #3: The fact that relatively no one was watching Edmonton come back from its 3-games-to-1-deficit, as NASCAR has officially replaced the NHL as our fourth major sport.
Most Inspiring #2: Miami coming back to win three in a row after being down 0-2.
Least Inspiring #2: The fact that neither my Lakers nor my Clippers are in it!
Most Inspiring #1: The beauty with which some of the international teams play soccer and the international golfers play golf, and the reminder to all of us Americans that we are not the only ones on the sporting planet.
Least Inspiring #1: Every World Cup soccer player who takes a dive hoping to induce a penalty on the other team, and the prospect of the U.S. not making it into the rest of the tournament. In soccer--with all respect to millions of sacrificial soccer moms--we’re barely a blip on the international screen.
I’m sure there are some inspiring baseball stories, too, but we’ve got the rest of the summer and into the Fall to talk about those. And these other sporting events, perhaps because they’re more rare, seem to be more memorable, and more inspiring.
Idol Chatter is humbled and just a little bit giddy at being named among Entertainment Weekly's top 100 entertainment websites. In a feature titled, appropriately, "Bookmark This Page!" the magazine's editors listed their favorite 25 sites, and asked the editors of those 25 to name each of their own top 3 picks.
And there, to our own happy surprise, among such leading sites as IMDB.com, The Onion, Defamer, and Television Without Pity, was Beliefnet's own Idol Chatter. Many, many thanks to Norman Weiss of the fabulous TVTattle.com for listing us. We love you, too!
If you took the Ben Stiller comedy "Meet the Parents," rewrote it in Spanish, and added in a dash of the Israel-Palestinian conflict and a pinch of religious conversion experiences, you'd end up with "Only Human," which opens tonight in New York. The film is a hilarious comedy of errors and of family relationships, focusing on the romance between Leni, an actress and the middle child of a tight-knit Spanish Jewish family, and her new fiancé Rafi, a Palestinian professor. When Leni brings Rafi home to meet her family, she neglects to tell them that he isn't Jewish. In the chaos after his family history is revealed, Rafi escapes to the kitchen to get ready for dinner. With his nerves on edge, he inadvertently hurls a bowl of frozen soup out the window, hitting a passer-by (who might be Leni's father, on his way home from work) in the head and possibly killing him. The ensuing cover-up of Rafi's potential crime, the search for the family's missing patriarch, and the growing resentment between Leni and Rafi about their religious--and moral--differences is an entertaining tour through the inner workings of family dynamics.
And though it is laugh-out-loud funny, the film has a serious--though not at all heavy-handed--side, offering poignant sketches of characters dealing with marital infidelity, inter-religious conflict, family tension, parenting crises, sexual promiscuity, and aging. But as filmgoers will find, the joy of being only human is that it's possible to live through these conflicts and troubling circumstances and still laugh about it all in the end.
The movie will hit screens in several other U.S. cities this summer; a full schedule of openings is available here.
posted by Rebecca Phillips @ 4:00 PM | Permalink |
Last week, we blogged about Britney Spears' spiritual journey, capped by her proclamation that her baby is her religion. Turns out that Britney's announcement did more than make headlines-- it also cost her the close friendship of Madonna, an ardent student of Kabbalah who introduced Britney to the faith. The Material Girl--who is on a world tour in which she gets crucified on stage during one of her songs--is a huge supporter of the Kabbalah Centre in L.A. and has written several Kabbalah-themed childrens' books.
Who seems to be stepping into the new vacancy in Madonna's inner circle (which also reportedly includes Gwyneth Paltrow and Stella McCartney)? Lindsay Lohan, of course. The almost-20-year-old actress/singer reportedly wants to collaborate on a song with Madonna and has expressed an interest in Kabbalah. One source even claims they're taking a trip to Israel together. Next up: kissing each other on MTV?
Even without Madonna in her life, a lot's been going on in Britney Land. First, she went on the "Today Show" this morning to stump for tonight's "Dateline" appearance, where commercials indicate she'll defend her parenting skills. Brit's been photographed lately with a young man accompanying her, and some outlets have said he's her "manny," or male nanny. After all, Brit's part of the generation who grew up watching Tony Danza on "Who's the Boss?"
It sounds like she needs all the help she can get, especially if she's just lost one of her most powerful allies.
The price of saying seven words you can't say on television just went up: Thanks to legislation pushed by the Christian Coalition and signed into law by President Bush today, fines for broadcasting what the Federal Communications Commission deems indecent content will rise tenfold, from $32,500 per infraction to $325,000. (All seven will now cost $2,275,000.) The law, sponsored in the Senate by Kansas lawmaker and avowed Christian conservative Sam Brownback, is the fallout, so to speak, from Janet Jackson's "wardrobe malfunction" at the 2005 Super Bowl.
Some commentators believe the sum effect will be to create a filthier and cruder radio culture on XM and Sirius, the fledgling satellite radio companies outside the jurisdiction of the FCC. Much like cable television, which can air racier fare because viewers consent to their programming by purchasing it, the satellite channels have already hired Stern and other shock jocks to attract their loyal listeners and lure more with the promise of outlandish chat.
As the spring television seasons wound to a close in May, I finally took the advice of many friends and joined Netflix, the super-fast DVD service that gets film and television favorites to your door in the blink of an eye. While at first overwhelmed with the possibilities, I narrowed my priorities to a top-three television series list of shows I've been wanting to watch forever but never actually caught on the air:
1. "Smallville": Four entire seasons already available on DVD about the boy Clark Kent (aka Superman) who struggles "to come to grips with his emerging superpowers--and the effects of various forms of kryptonite--while battling the strange things that have plagued this idyllic Midwest hamlet since the meteor shower." Season One so far has that same "Monster of the Week" theme of Buffy's Season One, which brings back fond memories.
2. "Joan of Arcadia": Though the show stopped after only two seasons, which I still can't believe I missed, "Joan of Arcadia" follows the life of a teenage girl who is a bit quirkier than average because of "the unusual way various people keep popping up, introducing themselves as God and then giving her specific directions to do things, such as get a job, join the debate team or volunteer with children. " Is she a contemporary mystic? Conversations with God are a promising place to begin in that category.
3. "Firefly": I couldn't overlook Joss Whedon's 13-episode one-season wonder about life in outer space with a Western twist. It's your basic good vs. evil with a lot of moral ambiguity about who is really doing the good, since the heroes are outlaws.
I'm counting on Netflix to fill the summer series void and hope I picked some winners. More later.....
A friend who knows my affinity for all things Buffy and Buffy-related recently alerted me to a giant subway advertisement for a new TV series with my name written all over it: "Hex." "Hex" premiered last Thursday at 10 on BBC America (though happily, the channel is re-airing the two-hour premier daily, if you want to catch it) and stars Christina Cole as Cassie Hughes, a girl attending a posh-British boarding school (housed in as Goth a mansion as you can find) who discovers she's a witch. It is clearly Britain's best answer to the enormous fan-base still wistful about Buffy and searching for something, anything, to fill the void.
Last night I eagerly snuggled up in front of the television, ready with snacks, drinks, and the remote, and was rewarded with quite a ride. The show is darker than Buffy and dives in head first with the drama, teasing viewers with mysteries and lore about what lies ahead--something that Buffy fans really had to wait until the second season to enjoy. I found myself immediately gripped by the characters and plot, though the humor was a bit over the top and cringe-inducing at moments.
Without giving too much away, the website for "Hex" describes Cassie as "bewildered and terrified by the visions that haunt her," but she "soon discovers that there are certain advantages to being a student endowed with mystical powers, when she learns how to manipulate the people and situations around her." And there's tragic romance ahead as well, if not a bit kinky sounding, since Cassie's love interest turns out to be a fallen angel named Azazeal (Michael Fassbender), "the leader of a group of fallen angels who were banished from heaven for tasting the pleasures of mortal women."
From watching the premiere, I've already determined that I'm in for all 10 episodes of the show's first season. What Buffy fan can say no to promises of mystical powers, demon-fighting, and romances with fallen angels? Definitely not me.
Like Earth in the End Times, Christian rock's days are numbered, but the industry has to undergo a few transitional stages. The current stage might be called "The Revolving Door." Take Flyleaf, for example. The hard-rock foursome is often described as a stripped-down Evanescence, the Christian goth-rock group that roared into mainstream success with their 2003 album titled "Fallen" and promptly kicked the ladder away. Flyleaf's label, Octone, wants the band to emulate Evanescence's marketing strategy as well as its sound. "We wanted to use Christian radio as a place to start, much like a record company might choose to start a hipper-type group at college radio," an Octone executive told Billboard magazine. "Our goal from day one was to break this band at mainstream rock radio."
Exhibit two is Brian Littrell, who has already enjoyed huge success as a member of the Backstreet Boys, but who has chosen to launch his solo career in the Christian market with his album "Welcome Home." Christian music fans are greeting his reverse crossover as a pure testament of what the genre has to offer a star even of Littrell's magnatude. "Additionally," notes Christianity Today, "one would hope such a talent would bring more experience and artistic credibility to [Christian Contemporary Music]."
The constant lowering of the Christian ghetto wall shows how much credibility CCM has already garnered. It will be interesting to see if the Christian music industry will have the courage of its founding ideal to complete its destiny and wither away altogether.
The show premiered June 6, with new episodes airing Tuesdays at 10. And per the manner of most "reality" shows, it's hard to know which idea came first, the show or the agency.
Having herself overcome obstacles that threatened to prevent her own modeling career from developing--and then becoming "the world's first supermodel"--Janice feels qualified to take the "raw material" of these wannabe models and breathe life into them. "I can see a model that the model doesn't even know that they're a model," she says in the second episode. The result is that her agency/show isn't just a conduit for modeling jobs: It's part Janice as Creator/Deity Filling the Earth With Models, and part The Janice Dickinson College for Pretty People.
But why would we want to watch? We value beauty and fashion, which models professionally (and literally) embody, but, on some visceral level, we also want to see them bleed. Because they make a living promoting unattainable standards of beauty, we need to see them destroyed. So when Janice yells at one of the models for not having buffed her fingers ("your cuticles look like Martha Stewart on crack"), and tells another that she is too fat ("you need to do some shrinkage or go for a plus-size look"), we feel a mix of revulsion and revelry. "I will destroy their self-esteem and then rebuild it," she promises. Poor models, under verbal attack from a cosmetically-overhauled diva. But then again, maybe they deserve it, for trying to be--and promote--perfection.
But the biggest irony might just be that the show airs on Oxygen, the women's television network that claims to offer empowerment and entertainment for women. Perhaps this is Oxygen's attempt at balance, creating a contrast with more empowering shows like Mo'Nique's F.A.T Chance and reruns of Oprah and Ellen.
We gawk at people who represent the parts of ourselves that we filter out of everyday discourse—the vain, the image-obsessed, the unobstructed brutality of honest criticism without worrying about whether the object of criticism will burst into tears as his or her dreams are destroyed. Janice sells her show on her brutality, and her drive to succeed. We would hate her in real life, but on television, we love to watch.
posted by Esther Kustanowitz @ 4:25 PM | Permalink |
To evangelicals bent on conquering Hollywood, it was this month's sign of the apocalypse. Last week, the Motion Picture Association of America—invented by Hollywood executives in the 1930s at the behest of Christians to monitor morals in the movies—warned parents that kids might need guidance when viewing "Facing the Giants," a football movie made by two Baptist clergymen from Georgia. In assigning the movie a PG rating, the MPAA said the movie was guilty of proselytizing, especially a scene in which a coach tells a kid, "Following Jesus Christ is the decision that you're going to have to make for yourself."
The filmmakers, whose titles are actually "associate ministers for media" at Sherwood Baptist Church in Albany, were sorely put out. Christian commentators pointed to the PG rating as evidence that black is white and up is down in today's America. But ironies aside, a risky rating may be the best thing that could happen to a preachy movie about redemption on the gridiron—or to a fledgling Christian media industry. Evangelicals in film need to emulate their Christian-rock colleagues and depend less on their bully pulpit as the majority religion than on their hard-won status as an upstart minority voice.
An executive at the film's distributor, the Sony subsidiary Provident, who knows the value of a racy rating, said it best: "It is kind of interesting that faith has joined that list of deadly sins that the MPAA board wants to warn parents to worry about." Much more interesting. Vive l'apocalypse.
Mix "Grey's Anatomy" with "Rescue Me" and you get TNT's lastest summer drama, "Saved." There is the requisite flawed hero who can only save others but can never save himself. There are also the obligatory dysfunctional family relationships and the usual romance with a co-worker. But in spite of the familiar terrority, "Saved" is still an entertaining look at one man's rocky road to redemption.
In "Saved", the man with the savior complex is Wyatt Cole (Tom Everett Scott), a roguish paramedic who returns to Portland after dropping out of medical school to bum around Hawaii for a couple of years. Not the worst mistake you could make, except in Wyatt's case, because his dad is a doctor, the girl he was --and still is-- in love with is a doctor, and they both think he is a big, fat failure for not becoming one as well. Too bad he has to run into them all the time when he delivers patients to the hospital they both work at.
Last night's pilot episode was certainly filled with numerous of examples of Wyatt as savior and of Wyatt as the one in need of salvation. Even though Wyatt helped a woman give birth and dashed into a burning building to save a family, he still found time to get beaten to a pulp by his loan shark. (Did I forget to mention that Wyatt has a gambling addiction?) And that was just the first half of the show.
"Saved" is neither as gritty as "Rescue Me," nor as funny or quirky as "Grey's Anatomy," but Everett Scott is charming and endearing as Wyatt, and the show makes a smart bookend to that other great TNT drama, "The Closer," which airs right before it. So if your T.V. schedule filled with re-runs is in need of a little salvation, it's worth your time to check this show out.
Oscar winner and director Robert Altman has long been known for making movies filled with unusual characters and rambling, improvisational dialogue which viscerally dissect a certain segment of society--country singers in "Nashville," Hollywood execs in "The Player," hired help in "Gosford Park"--which is what makes him the perfect choice to tell a story about the lovable cast of a folksy radio show on the evening of its last broadcast. "Prairie Home Companion," the movie, is based loosely on humorist Garrison Keillor’s long-running radio show of the same name, which broadcasts from mythical Lake Wobegan. The movie drifts back and forth between the dressing rooms and the stage as a variety of characters reflect on their hopes and dreams, their loves and losses, while waiting to take their final bow.
If you are not a fan of Keillor’s aw-shucks storytelling--and I never have been--don’t worry. The movie is much more than commercials for products like “Powder Milk Biscuits,” or bawdy but lame jokes followed by sweet renditions of your favorite hymns. Keillor himself is only on the stage for a small portion of the movie, and Lake Wobegan is not mentioned at all. The movie is actually much darker in tone than the studio advertising would lead you to believe. The movie is about nothing less than life and death--literally and metaphorically. There is the death of one of the characters, and also the death of tradition, with the show being taken off the air by a greedy corporate businessman. At the same time, there is the promise that the values and traditions these folks hold dear will actually be carried on after all, through Lola (Lindsay Lohan in a surprisingly good performance), the rebellious daughter of cast member Yolanda Johnson (Meryl Streep), who reluctantly begins jotting down the stories of the cast members in her diary.
"Prairie" is, in spite of the many mesmerizing performances by an Oscar-studded cast, a slightly uneven tale. The pace of the film lags at times, and the storyline involving an angel and the show’s company manager puzzled me for most of the movie. While Altman might be saying, with a touch of his trademark cynicism, that the old cliche "You can't go home again" is, in fact, true, in the end, "Prairie" is still a celebration of the value of community, the value of faith, and the importance of bearing witness to both.
Casinos apparently are big venues for musicians, and I've spent my share of time these last few days watching people play slots while waiting for Toby Lightman, Jewel, and Rob Thomas to take the stage. My husband is on this particular summer tour (he plays keys, organ), so, as part of my official groupie status, I spend a lot of time wandering around during sound check, watching people lose their money far more than they seem to be winning it.
The other day, as I crossed one of the casino floors, with its wild flashing lights and pinball machine-like sounds assaulting my ears, I halted in my tracks. Before me was an enormous window with velvet ropes to guide a line of people in front of it, above which hung gigantic block letters that spelled: REDEMPTION. I couldn't help but smile at the irony of it all, that here in the middle of the East Coast's sin city (this casino was in Atlantic City), was a bank teller-like booth peddling "redemption." Of course they meant chip redemption--the place you go to get what few chips you have left turned back into quarters, or, in exceptional cases, turned into winnings. Yet the oddness of it all was still striking--the word standing alone, hanging above everyone's heads as if to tempt these gamblers away from the slots and black jack tables and onward to a better place.
I didn't stop by seeking redemption myself. I don't gamble, so I suppose in the land of casinos, I had nothing that could be offered up.
In my recent Beliefnet interview with Ralph Winter, he said that if Hollywood could make a sequel to "The Passion of the Christ," they would. Well, Winter was right as usual: According to The Hollywood Reporter, Screen Gems studio is producing a movie that recreates Jesus’ resurrection and ascension into heaven 40 days later. Looking to tap into the same Christian audience that supported “The Passion,” the movie is slated to be in theaters for Easter of 2007.
No word on whether or not Jim Caviezel will be available to reprise his role as Jesus or when Hollywood will stop trying to link any and all movies that have a religious theme to Gibson's epic.
Entertainment Weekly magazine has announced its list of the 25 most controversial movies of all time, and at the top is Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ," chosen for "igniting a culture-war firestorm unrivaled in Hollywood history." Other films with religious themes that made the list include "The Da Vinci Code" and "The Last Temptation of Christ." The list also includes "United 93," "Basic Instinct," and, in the number 2 slot, "A Clockwork Orange."
Are there other films that you think should have earned this (dubious) honor?
Are you salivating in anticipation of watching the great Ronaldinho of Brazil in action? Can’t wait to see Germany’s Michael Ballack use the home-turf advantage to chew up his opponents? Or perhaps it’s the thought of the Ivory Coast’s Didier Drogba out to prove that African teams have the discipline and ability to win big that gets you fired up. What? You mean you don’t know who I’m talking about? It’s the World Cup, baby! Soccer’s crowning glory is back again after four agonizing years to unite the world under the banner of gamesmanship, excitement, nail-biting matches, crazy fans, mesmerizing players, and passionate faith.
Soccer is truly the universal sport, the one athletic game that nearly every youth dabbles in at some point. And the World Cup is the pinnacle of the sport, an event that has fans all over taking off work and dropping all other activities to gather around the television at homes, restaurants, and pubs and root for their favorite teams.
It’s a time when sports prayers reach their feverish climax, when the most non-religious people will throw their hands up in a passionate plea to God at some crucial moment, praying for that player to make (or block) that goal. And that’s what I love about it.
Did you ever get scolded for wasting a prayer on something trivial, like—oh, say—the outcome of a game? I remember a time when my then teen-aged brother was watching his beloved San Francisco 49ers play in the Superbowl (in the late 1980s), and saw some fan cross himself at a crucial moment. My brother was inspired. He dropped to his knees, lifted up his hands, and began reciting all the Islamic prayers he could remember, beseeching Allah to help his 49ers win. My mom lit into him: “Don’t waste your prayers; don’t waste Allah’s time on a football game!”
I turned to her (I must’ve been about 10 or 12 at the time) and said, “Mummy, prayers are infinite. You can’t ever waste a prayer, no matter what you’re praying for! And don’t you think God likes to have a little fun too?” She just laughed and acquiesced to my beliefs. (By the way, the 49ers won that day!)
And so, bring on the World Cup and all its passionate fans. Bring on the hopes and dreams of legions of soccer fans in countries around the world, praying for Ronaldinho to make magic or for the United States to gain some respect in the soccer world. Let the fun and faith begin.
While most recently associated with a certain couch-jumping movie star, Scientology has had a long history of recruiting celebrities. But now the L.A.-based religion is turning its sights to the massive demographics of NASCAR, which has, as of a 2004 estimate, 75 million religiously fervent followers. The Associated Press reports that “Kenton Gray, a 35-year-old Californian, will attempt to make the field for a late model race Saturday night at Irwindale (Calif.) Speedway” in a Ford Taurus sponsored by Bridge Publications, publishers of “Dianetics.”
But Gray’s car is not just a blank billboard--he’s a believer and success story and hopes to spread the word to those at the motorway. “Dianetics is a book that helped me in many ways since I first read it many years ago,” Gray said in a statement released to the AP. “It helped me get better control over the obstacles I had to get through to reach goals I was passionate about. It’s a great honor to have a sponsor relationship that’s so directly related to my making it this far.”
Having religious imagery on a NASCAR vehicle isn't something new. Driver Bobby Labonte plastered an advert for "The Passion of the Christ" on his car, but Lord only knows how many bad jokes will be made if a Viagra-sponsored auto and the "Dianetics" car--with it's exploding volcano--ever take the same track.
In other Scientology-related news, it seems that outspoken liberal comedienne and Air America radio host Janeane Garofalo has alienated her co-host of "Majority Report," Sam Seder. Often cynical and subversive in her stand-up routine, the star of "The Truth about Cats and Dogs" and "Mystery Men" has in the past few months been seemingly endorsing, on her show, a controversial Scientology detox program for NYC firefighters who were involved in 9/11 cleanup. According to MSNBC.com’s “The Scoop,” Garofalo and Seder recently “had a heated argument over her continued promotion of [the program], that ended with Seder storming off the set.”
Perhaps, Janeane should take the motto of her political-action group to heart and just Move On before she losses her comic cred.
Boston millionaire Larry Baras, whose food services company makes, among other products, Unholey Bagels, has become the driving force behind the Israel Baseball League and is currently seeking out cities and stadiums in the Holy Land to host teams. Baras hopes to gin up enough interest for the American pastime—all but unknown in Israel—to field a team for the next World Baseball Classic in 2009.
Under Israel's right-of-return laws, any Jewish-American can qualify for citizenship, meaning that Baras's squad could in theory include Kevin Youkilis and Gabe Kapler of Boston, Shawn Green of the Diamondbacks, and Jason Marquis of the Cards. Former Red Sox general manager Dan Duquette is helping Baras with player development, and team tryouts will be held at Duquette's sports academy in Hinsdale, Mass,. this summer.
My wife couldn’t believe I was interested in attending a screening of “The Omen.” Perhaps being invited to a June 5 screening (as opposed to the 6-6-06 opening date) made me feel better about it. But I think I’d do just about anything to urge people to take spiritual matters more seriously in their lives and to get reliable information to guide their decision-making. For that reason alone, I’m glad for the hype and buzz that “The Omen” has created, because simply the mention and references to demons, Satan, the anti-Christ, 666, etc., have their roots in biblical truth.
But the movie itself stays in the safe zone, suggesting that just about anything can be the cause of evil, including our personal choices, our current government, societal forces, as well as the angel fallen from heaven. And that is a problem.
Either Satan is the sworn enemy of God and is currently engaged in a heavenly battle that none of us can relate to and in which the outcome is not future but present, or he/it is a myth created to explain bad things that happen in the world. The same Bible that introduces us to Christmas, Easter, and heaven is the source of information regarding Lucifer. Either it’s true or it’s not, regardless of how much we want to say our spiritual journey is personal. Satan’s present activity in the unseen realm either exists or does not exist.
The drama of determining our belief about that is far greater, deeper and longer-lasting than this latest horror flick. And more meaningful.
In a culture where quick wealth and instant fame are becoming more and more glamorized on television--think the recent hit game show “Deal or No Deal” and almost every reality show on the tube--it seems the time is right for a drama like NBC’s newest series, “Windfall.” The series, which premieres tonight and is slated for a limited summer run, follows a group of 20 people--some friends, some not--after they win $380 million in a state lottery.
Faster than you can say “Money is the root of all evil,” many of the winners respond to this sudden change in their bank accounts in self-destructive ways. First there are the two couples who immediately compromise their marriages, and then there is the former criminal who becomes romantically involved with a lawyer who may or may not be using him for her own purposes. And then there's the teen who marries a Russian immigrant because he is too young to collect his lottery winning (she collects the money for him instead).
After screening the first two episodes sent to me by the network, I still liked the concept of the show more than I liked the episodes themselves. I wished that the series producers would have taken a subtler approach to the show’s premise. Every dramatic twist and turn in the various storylines is telegraphed to the audience well in advance of it actually happening. Every character on this show is so gorgeous and already has such a wonderful life--with a couple of exceptions--that feeling joy or empathy for them is a little difficult.
What would make for far more dramatic television, in my opinion, is if the show would take the time to examine the ways that greed and temptation creep into our lives slowly, over time, in numerous subtle ways that we are often unprepared for. But if you are looking for some harmless, soap opera-like escapist fare to watch instead of re-runs of your favorite TV shows , then I guess “Windfall” is just the ticket for you.
The New York Times Book Review created a furor in the literary world last month when it chose Toni Morrison's "Beloved" as the best American work of fiction from the past 25 years. Though the book was chosen by a panel of 200 esteemed writers, several critics demurred--with some accusing the Times of kowtowing to political correctness in their choice.
So to avoid similar fury in the Jewish community, this year's Koret Jewish Book Awards are leaving one award up to the readers themselves--and that means you. You can go to this site to nominate your suggestions for the best works of Jewish fiction in the past 10 years. Did you love "The Plot Against America"? Do you still reread passages of "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay"? Nominate them now! A panel of judges will select five finalists from among the nominations, and readers will once again vote on the winner. The official winner of the "JBooks.com People's Choice Award" will be announced in November.
posted by Rebecca Phillips @ 3:42 PM | Permalink |
A boorish Jude Law was the stumbling block to Sienna Miller's domestic bliss. Now comes news that a boorish cult leader ruined the marriage of Miller's father, the American investment banker-turned-art dealer Ed Miller. In an interview in the British magazine Tatler, Ed's ex-wife, the well-known decorator Kelly Hoppen, says Sienna's dad got so caught up with a group that dressed in "sheets and beads" that Hoppen tried to save their marriage by joining. During an initiation rite, however, the cult's leader "hit me first with a peacock feather, then with his hand," Hoppen told Tatler. "The blow was so strong that I fell backwards and hit my head on a bannister."
Sienna's dad is now planning to marry a woman he met in the cult, according to Hoppen.
Riveting. Terrifying. Inspiring. Exasperating. Makes you want to grab people off the street as you exit and shove them in the door so they can see it too. Causes you to catalogue all the little things you could do, but are not yet doing to make a difference. Gives you hope while at the same time adds incredible worry and even despair about the state of things. These are all ways to describe the experience of watching "An Inconvenient Truth," the new documentary featuring the global warming talk that Al Gore has been giving all over the world for years.
The movie is, more or less, a straight lecture--a two-hour virtual PowerPoint presentation--with some deviations exploring Gore's back story and a brief cartoon explaining global warming. Yet somehow, it had me glued to my seat. The producers of "An Inconvenient Truth" somehow managed to take Gore's highly polished presentation straight to the big screen with wild success.
The star of the show is Earth, and we are the villains--the "we" here, of course, is largely comprised of residents of the United States, which holds the lion's share of responsibility when it comes to destroying civilization as we know it, and do so not-too-slowly, as it turns out. Gore is accessible in his explanations, does very little political blaming, and convincingly argues his point: that once you realize what we are really doing to the planet, it becomes a moral imperative to do something about it. And after all the bad news of what's gone wrong, he shares the hopeful reality that all the technology necessary to reverse global warming is already available, though he adds the depressing caveat that "we have everything we need, save political will."
The ultimate moral imperative rests on our shoulders: find that political will. One of the funniest but most convincing moments comes when Gore stands in front of a giant photograph of a scale. On one side of the scale are bars of gold, and on the other, Earth. Gore proceeds to comically debate between choosing bars of gold (complete with amusing sound effects) and... drum roll... the entire planet(!), illustrating the fact that, as a country, we seem to be caught in a debate about hoarding dollars vs. killing our world. How is that a choice? When Gore puts it this way, opponents will be hard pressed to defend themselves convincingly.
Finally, but truly powerfully, the documentary has a simple but clever way of rolling the credits --scrolling all sorts of practical, step-by-step advice for saving the world (or "taking action"), including everything from recycling and buying hybrid cars (if you can afford it) to "if you pray, pray that people will find enough strength to change," and follow an old African proverb that says, "When you pray, use your feet."
As I sat through the film, at different moments I found my mind wandering to the "What Would Jesus Drive?" campaign that erupted several years back, which was critical of the disturbing rise in gas guzzling SUV's on the highways across the U.S., urging Christians to be more environmentally conscious and stop driving these cars. As I remembered this campaign, I began thinking: "What Would Jesus See?" in terms of movies this summer, and the answer is obvious: this movie.
And when you go see it, make sure you stay until the very last credits. They can save the world.
Thou shalt not covet thy Middle Eastern neighbor’s oil--but coveting his wife, not such a big problem. Thou shalt not use weapons of mass destruction. Thou shalt not lie--unless you are up for re-election. These are a few of the changes I am speculating that David Wain, from the satirical comedy troupe Stella, might make to the original Ten Commandments now that he is writing and directing a Biblical spoof simply called “The Ten.”
Set to start shooting in New York City this summer, little is known about this interpretation of the handing down of God’s law to the Jews: Will it take place in modern times, is Paul Rudd playing Moses (he is attached to the project but no word on which part he is playing), and will there be plenty of jokes to offend Christians and Jews alike? Because of the way Wain and his colleagues have pushed the comedic envelope in the past, I am guessing the answers to all of those questions is “yes.”
While internet buzz is already comparing the movie to the kind of parody Monty Python or Mel Brooks ("The History of the World, Part One") might do, I am looking for the film to more closely resemble Kevin Smith’s controversial religious comedy, “Dogma.”
Whichever slant the sharp-witted Wain takes, the only way I could be more curious to see this movie is if I heard Wain was giving Jon Stewart a cameo--as Aaron, perhaps?
A big Idol Chatter mazel-tov goes to Adam Mesh on his recent wedding! The charismatic, fan-favorite runner-up of NBC's original "Average Joe" and its follow-up "Average Joe: Adam Returns" tied the knot May 28 with his girlfriend, Jessica Malca. (I hope I'm not dating myself with the reference to a reality TV show that aired a full three years ago, but my wife--who alerted me to this bit of happy news--and I were obsessed with it at the time.)
Despite Mesh's TV fame, he and Malca--whose name means "queen" in Hebrew, though no word on her religious background--met the old-fashioned way, face to face, no reality shows involved. They were married in a Miami synagogue, and Mesh tells People.com that his favorite part of the wedding was dancing an "extra long" hora. It's nice to know that my people's ancient wedding-reception traditions are alive and well, even at a splashy (pseudo)celebrity wedding like Adam's.
And, of course, it's always heart-warming to see an "Average Joe" find happiness with his "queen."
What if a spiritual leader such as Deepak Chopra was channeled through the completely politically incorrect energy of a very famous comedian? You’d get a character named Guru Pitka, and Paramount Pictures would want to make a feature film about him.
Guru Pitka is the invention of “Austin Powers” star Mike Myers, who has taken to showing up at comedy clubs in the persona of an inappropriately touchy-feely guru offering “love seminars.” Presumably, much of the material from this routine--which he calls "Mike Myers' Padsana on Human Potentiality and Equipoise by His Holiness the Guru Pitka"--will make it into the film’s script, in much the way “Austin Powers” also developed from stage to screen. In fact, Guru Pitka was a part of the original “Austin Powers” script and was taken out because of the controversial nature of the character’s spirituality. Myers said in an interview that “Guru Pitka was, in some people's eyes, racially disturbing. It was a funny part, but it offended many Indians and I did not want a negative thing around Austin Powers.”
Maybe Myers doesn’t understand the obvious difference between mocking a generation's bad fashion and hairstyle choices and mocking someone’s religion, but I am guessing the response to the new guru in his life might be less than groovy, baby.
Amidst the coverage of this week's 25th anniversary of the identification of the disease that's come to be known as AIDS, Idol Chatter would like to take a moment to remember the pop-culture figures who've been lost to the disease. As the epidemic has moved on to devastate poverty-stricken African American communities and horrifyingly large swaths of Africa, we may forget that the first AIDS victims were mostly white gay men, and that the arts and entertainment world lost many of its own to the disease.
Their names may seem like distant memories to us today, but it was not so long ago that their suffering and death shocked and saddened us: Rock Hudson. Liberace. The photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. Freddy Mercury, lead singer of Queen. Ballet dancer Rudolf Nureyev. Journalist Randy Shilts, who brought us the groundbreaking work, "And the Band Played On." Rap artist Eazy-E. Tennis star Arthur Ashe. A diverse group of creators who were lost to this mysterious disease--and whose famous names stand in for the multitudes of lesser-known victims.
The next time we dismiss Hollywood as superficial and narcissistic--charges that are too often well earned--let's also remember the role that the entertainment world played in bringing AIDS to the forefront of our consciousness and spurring us to care and to act. Films like "Philadelphia," TV productions like "Angels in America," the activism of stars like Elizabeth Taylor and Bono, the tireless work of organizations like Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS help make us all better informed and more caring on a subject that's too easy for us to turn away from and ignore. And they prove that there are many in Hollywood who care about more than just themselves and who use their wealth and influence to help heal this world.
Intrigued is how I would describe myself the moment I learned that a "hip hop mass" would be held at St. Paul's Chapel, an Episcopal church in the heart of Manhattan's financial district. How can liturgical Protestantism and hip hop music coexist? What is the driving force behind such an ostensibly bizarre combination of ceremony and pop culture? These questions weren't exactly answered, but I did have a great time.
Knowing very little, I walked into the chapel with the presumption that I would be shoulder-to-shoulder with awkward Episcopalians suspicious of a "funked-out," hip hop-infused mass. What I witnessed instead was a congregation of willing participants led by a backbeat-laden liturgical concert featuring a team of rappers, a band, and several backup dancers. "Amen" was replaced by "Word," an appropriately adapted version of the 23rd Psalm was recited, and clergy members infused their words with hip hop lingo, such as "peeps" and "homies," while rocking out in their vestments.
In fact, a standout element of the service ended up being the unabashed audience participation. There was no core demographic; everyone was there: young and old, black and white, from the devout to the just plain curious. With all of the clapping, pointing to the heavens, and moving to the music, there was no time left to sit. From my vantage point, I could see not a single soul unmoved. Admittedly, I also succumbed to the lure of the music, moving my feet and clapping in time to the beat.
Aside from the concert and its receptive audience, the most entertaining part of being there was watching the many unassuming tourists walk in off the street, drawn by the odd pairing of hip hop and Manhattan’s only remaining colonial church. It was clear they had no idea what was in store for them. Many entered and exited within the span of five minutes, but a few stayed, sat in the pews, and participated as though they'd meant to come.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Copies of the newly published "Hip Hop Prayer Book" were given away to congregants as they reluctantly left their pews. And, upon exiting the chapel, I overheard an elderly woman, most likely in her 80s, respond to the question, "What do you think of hip hop now?" "I like it now," she said, "as long as it gets those kids in the church." Perhaps she answered my question; come for the music, stay for the Lord.
If you can sit through the 149-minute movie version of "The Da Vinci Code" directed by Ron Howard, you can certainly sit through "Opus Dei and the Da Vinci Code," a 50-minute BBC documentary directed by Jeremy Jeffs, which aired last night on The Hallmark Channel and will be re-aired next Sunday.
The main problem (as with the "Da Vinci" movie, I'm told, because I haven't seen it), is staying awake. In the documentary, narrator Mark Dowd takes the viewer on a tour of the landmarks of the $2.8 billion Catholic organization that plays the role of villainous criminal syndicate in "Da Vinci": its $40 million office tower in New York, its plush London digs, its fancy shrine in Rome to its founder, the recently canonized St. Josemaria Escriva, who died in 1975. There are also interviews with various Opus Dei numeraries (the members who lead communal, celibate lives), supernumeraries (members who live on their own and marry), and some disillusioned former members who regard Opus Dei as a brainwashing cult on the order of the Moonies. All to the tune of much woo-woo music, as the camera pans yet another bleeding crucifix and photograph of Escriva.
Dowd, by his own confession, is an ex-friar and a "liberal" Catholic. Most liberal Catholics regard Opus Dei the way a bar patron regards a cockroach on his martini olive—but Dowd is remarkably fair-minded. He dimisses "Da Vinci" author Dan Brown's assertion that Opus Dei made a big bank loan to the Vatican to get Escriva canonized, and he assures the viewer that, unlike in "Da Vinci," the real-life Opus Dei does not have a single monk, much less an "Albino monk" of the kind played by Paul Bettany in the movie. Opus Dei members are shown sympathetically, although Dowd expresses a good liberal's horror that married Opus Dei women have lots of children and don't work outside the home, and that female numeraries have to clean the male numeraries' living quarters. Nonetheless, he points out that 55 percent of Opus Dei members are women, and interviewee Adrienne Treveaven does seems to be one happy numerary, as she dusts off desks in the men's dorm.
The high point of the documentary is, of course, the cilice, the chains-and-spikes contraption with which Bettany famously flogs his hindquarters in the movie. The woo-woo music crescendos as Dowd explains that all Opus Dei numeraries are required to wear the cilice for two hours a day. Numerary Eileen Cole hands her cilice to Dowd (it comes in its own little bag like a travel iron), and Dowd gamely ties it around his upper thigh—ouch! Cut to former Opus Dei member and current Opus Dei critic Monsignor Vladimir Felzmann, who asks, "What does this have to do with Jesus of Nazareth?" (It would seem that the good monsignor never saw "The Passion of the Christ"). Another critic charges that the organization's charitable works, such as its Midtown Center for teen-age boys in inner-city Chicago, are actually covert recruiting stations—as though your average gangsta would be likely to sign up for Opus Dei.
All in all, though, as Opus Dei Director Jack Valero tells Dowd after one of the organization's post-"Da Vinci" PowerPoint presentations has drawn a crowd of 60 young people: "Dan Brown's actually our best recruiting agent."
posted by Charlotte Allen @ 10:17 AM | Permalink |
The ballot includes 300 films, most of which you'd expect, such as "Hoosiers," "The Shawshank Redemption," "Gladiator," "A League of Their Own," and "The Magnificent Seven." I was also glad that two of my favorites, which often go overlooked--"The Natural" and "The Mission"--were also included.
The winners will be announced as part of a televised show on CBS later this month. I'll opine more on the Top 100 and Top 10 when the show's airing gets closer, but today I'm going to whine about those that didn't even make the nomination list. There are types of films that just aren't generally included on these lists, even though they should be. For example:
Why aren't there more "guy" movies? Why can't the significant and interracial friendship of the "Lethal Weapon" series be included, or the selfless heroics of John McLean in the "Die Hard" trilogy, or the justice hunters like "Dirty Harry," "Rambo," and anything with Steven Seagal in it?
Why aren't there more "chick flicks"? I know there are some, but I sure haven't seen 'em!
Why aren't there more "money" movies? Money is something that occupies much of our thoughts and time, and it's inspiring to see the good guys get even ("Trading Places'), or to see somebody stand up for something ("Wall Street"), or to have our eyes opened to realities we were previously unaware of ("Rollover," "Sneakers").
Why aren't there more series or sequels? How many young people have dreamed bigger dreams and aspired to loftier goals after seeing the heroics of James Bond, Laura Croft, Jack Ryan, or Captains Kirk and Piccard?
Why are some under-marketed little pictures ignored? "Victory" may have been a tad corny, but it is the most beautiful soccer film ever made--while managing to be a sports film, war film, and inspirational movie all at the same time. "Brian's Song" may have been made for TV, but most people watch feature films on DVDs today anyways, and James Caan brought honor to the role of a prideful man dying of cancer, while Billy Dee Williams' Gale Sayers vulnerably emerged as the reluctant hero we all have the capacity to discover within ourselves.
Finally, why aren't there more "action" movies? "Crimson Tide" isn't the kind of touchy-feely movie that usually is called "inspiring," but by making heroes of both the CEO and the CXO, the commander and the junior officer, the white man and the African-American, both Hackman and Denzel made a case for the kind of leadership and courage that stands up against even friends and peers, which is the toughest of all, while showing that we all need both a "pat on the back" and a "kick in the butt." Harrison Ford's threesome of "The Fugitive," "Blade Runner," and "Air Force One" all had the common thread of seeking justice no matter what the cost. The "Terminator" films inspired many young men to fight for what's right, regardless of the cost.
Lastly, I think Warren Beatty's "Heaven Can Wait" shouldn't have been ignored. Everyone has a destiny, said the story, delving bravely into the question of God's interaction with our human decisions, resulting in something called "probability and outcome"--which didn't exactly solve everything for me but sure evoked some worthwhile spiritual questions.
Today's New York Times has a front page story about the widening phenomenon of Faith Night at the ballpark. Always on the lookout for ways to drum up business, minor-league sports teams are hosting religious-themed promotions, hoping to tap into church groups' power to mobilize the faithful. The faith in question is almost always Christian, with giveaways of Christian tchotchkes, appearances by large foam VeggieTales characters and performances by Christian bands, including acts as big as Audio Adrenaline, who played at an indoor football game in Birmingham, Ala., last month. (Special jerseys with a Bible book and verse replacing each player's name and number, were deemed not in regulation by the Arena Football League's minor-league officials, and were not worn during the game itself.) The gambit works. Attendance at Nashville Sounds baseball games gets a 59 percent boost on Faith Nights. Major-league teams, including the Atlanta Braves, have begun sponsoring Faith Nights.
Faith Nights are the invention of Brent High, whose company, Third Coast Sports, puts together the promotions for ballparks. High says he goes out of his way to avoid starkly evangelizing at games and allowing secular fans to enjoy the games as usual (beer, for instance, is still sold). High does note in the Times article, "On Faith Nights, God cares a lot more more what's happening in the stands than about what happens on the field." On all other nights, as far we can tell, the Lord is a Yankee fan.
There are several supernaturally-themed horror movies coming to the cineplex this summer, but perhaps none is more anticipated by horror film buffs that the remake of the '70s cult classic "The Omen," which opens next week--on 6-06-06 to be exact. And while I am not a big fan of watching blood, guts, and demonic possession, I did come across an interview with the director of this latest look at the life of Damien, a child who is switched at birth and is actually the Antichrist, that offers an interesting look at the spiritual thought process behind the making of the story.
In the interview, director John Moore, who describes himself as a lapsed Catholic who still believes in God, admits he did worry about the sensational nature of the material in the movie and wondered whether or not he was "pissing God off" by directing this project. However, Moore concluded in the end he wanted to make this movie as a symbolic exercise in examining the very dark times we live in. According to Moore, one character in the movie says, "A great evil this way comes." He hopes that the evil represented in the movie will be "interpretable in several ways, whether it be the (current) Christian-Muslim tension, or the fact that we're destroying the planet we live on..."
While I understand that these kinds of films can provide emotional catharsis for those who enjoy them, I have never been completely convinced that the horror genre is a great way to examine deeper spiritual questions. But maybe I am wrong. If the director of a horror movie finds himself questioning his own spirituality, maybe those questions really will find their way to the big screen.
The "Dixie Chicks" moniker has always been fitting, perfectly personifying the sassy, dynamic, youthful tunes of Natalie Maines, Emily Robison, and Martie Maguire. But their latest album, "Taking The Long Way," shows that these girls ain't chicks anymore--they're wearier, wiser women.
The specter of Maines's Bush-bashing controversy looms large here, with the single "Not Ready to Make Nice." But it's life's more pedestrian struggles that set the tone for the album: A relative's struggle with Alzheimer's ("Silent House"); the hardships of infertility ("It's So Hard When It Doesn't Come Easy"), which both Robison and Maguire struggled with; and hope for a peaceful future for the world's children ("I Hope").
Although still a country album, the Chicks were already moving into the adult contemporary/pop category with 2002's "Home" and the smash hit remake of "Landslide." But having incurred the wrath of the country music community, the biggest-selling female band in history is now consciously turning from its country roots and teaming with uberproducer Rick Rubin--who recently reinvigorated Johnny Cash's and Neil Diamond's careers--to produce an eclectic mix of rock, bluegrass, blues and, yes, a little bit country.
At first listen, I missed the "punk country" of "Goodbye Earl," or the upbeat optimism of "Wide Open Spaces," and was distracted by some of the lush string and brass arrangements. But there are no wasted words on this disc, the catharsis is palpable, and Maines's voice has never sounded better. Crowded House's Neil Finn, VH1 demi-god Jon Mayer, Keb-Mo, and members of the Heartbreakers are just a few of the big names that contributed to the album, and the results range from inspired gospel--a la Al Green--to Neil Young-like guitar riffs and a lovely, lovely lullaby ("Lullaby"). The gals don't completely abandon their country roots, throwing in a few high-energy, defiant tracks like "Lubbock or Leave It."
In last week's Time magazine cover story, fiddler Maguire said, ''I'd rather have a smaller following of really cool people who get it, who will grow with us as we grow and are fans for life....'' The Chicks certainly have grown with this CD.
Ricky Skaggs knows how the Dixie Chicks feel. So does Randy Travis. Both country singers spoke and sang about what they believed in—faith in Jesus—and both saw record sales and radio airtime plummet, despite the fact that half of country fans go to church on Sunday.
If Jesus can do that for country mainstays like Travis and Skaggs, it's no wonder that disavowing fellow Texan George W. Bush on the eve of the Iraq War could chase the Chicks out of Nashville altogether. Their new album, "Taking the Long Way," made with Rick Rubin, the rock and rap producer who put the finishing touches on Johnny Cash's legend, is not only unrepentant, it is not country music.
It's true that the trio—Natalie Maines, and sisters Martie Maguire and Emily Robison—never fit the country profile. Songs like "Goodbye Earl" tagged them as feminists in a world where female empowerment more often means wearing your jeans so tight you put the boys in a tizzy. As Maines put it in an interview this week, "Where would we fit on the playlist between ‘Honky Tonk Badonkadonk’ and ‘Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off’?”
But the Chicks' defection to adult contemporary is a shame nonetheless. Though deep-fried patriots will puff out their chests at their rout, country music will be poorer without Maines's untamed voice and the two sisters' real-thing fiddle and banjo. And though blue-staters will welcome them as fellow travelers, the once rebellious Chicks will be one more soft rock group singing to the choir.
Donna Freitas has a Ph.D. in spirituality and is the author of "Becoming A Goddess Of Inner Poise: Spirituality for The Bridget Jones in All of Us."
Douglas Howe is an ordained minister, executive coach, author, and retreat leader.
Paul O'Donnell is the former Culture editor at Beliefnet.
Kris Rasmussen, the author of "WonkaMania," has been a contributing editor to the Christian music magazine CCM and a feature writer for Relevant magazine.
Plus, a number of Beliefnet editors will also be posting to Idol Chatter as the mood strikes.
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