Idol Chatter hardly needs to add to the barrage of quips, canned responses, and commentary about Mel Gibson's anti-Semitic outburst during his arrest early Saturday morning. Sadly, even in the 21st century, and even from stone sober blatherers, talking crazy about "the Jews" is about as surprising as a cyclist failing a urine test and, pathetically, less consequential: Mel will continue to make movies and Americans will continue to go see them. The folks who might have abstained from his flicks because of his "Jews start all the wars" tirade likely already abstain because of Mel's refusal to denounce his father's Holocaust-denial views, and because of "The Passion" itself.
Two questions, however fall clearly into Idol Chatter's orbit: how Mel's late-night chat affects the future of Christian filmmaking, and how to summarize Mel's career in the field, which is likely over. (His spokespeople are even sounding vague about his proposed series on the Holocaust, conceived as a sop to those who found "The Passion" disturbingly anti-Semitic.)
Much of the buzz "The Passion" created in Christian film circles, and the access to the wider cinema market it suddenly promised, will no doubt be harmed, if not quashed, by Mel's mumblings of Saturday night. None of the Christian filmmakers I've encountered have betrayed any of Mel's millennial mania, but if the scandal won't end Mel's career, skittish producers will be less willing to take risks with other, fledgling filmmakers who depict Jesus, lest they share the taint of anti-Semitism by association. This is a shame, since even those who disagreed with "The Passion" had to see that it promised, at least, more intelligent screen explorations of the Christian story and message.
Indeed, future films about Jesus (or old-fashioned Jesus figures) are the more sorely needed because of "The Passion." Mel's latest eruption betrayed just how lost he is amid the affinity many conservative Christians have developed toward Judaism and today's Jewish people, beyond the old Christian right's attachment to Israel as the custodian of the Holy Land. Theologically, some important evangelical voices see Jesus as one who came to the Jews as a Jew, bent on reforming his own religion and society; the world's salvation, some new thinking goes, came not in despite of his co-religionists' history, but completely on its terms, and on its wings. It's an exciting and interesting route to go down, and one Mel's ugly spiritual cataracts apparently prevented him from seeing.
Those of us who watch public television are fully aware of what a refreshing alternative it is to the mindless programming on most networks. Unfortunately, the federal government is making it harder for public broadcasting to continue doing its job. Most recently, PBS has expressed concern that it could face fines if it does not tone down/bleep/pixilate what the FCC considers inappropriate language, especially in an upcoming Ken Burns documentary about World War II. The fear of having to fork over to the FCC thousands of dollars that would otherwise be put toward worthwhile causes is forcing PBS and producers to self-edit, an act that will eventually compromise the quality of public television programming.
With all due respect to my fellow Idol Chatterer, Doug, this argument isn’t as simple as “PBS wants to cuss.” Those advocating the implementation of fines do not understand what the airing of these shows means for public education and awareness. Where else on television--where else anywhere--can you find an in-depth look at young men growing up in an impoverished Eastern Kentucky town; a non-biased examination of the AIDS pandemic; and a brutally honest portrayal of America-wide methamphetamine abuse?
These are serious topics, developed into shows for intelligent and inquisitive adults. Viewers are forewarned if a program contains mature content, and parents need to act accordingly if they do not want their children to watch. In fact, children should not be exposed to these programs at all. PBS stations carry daytime and evening programming. Children’s programming is aired during morning hours, while adult programming--news shows, documentaries, interviews--are aired at night.
We all have a right to choose what we listen to, read, and watch. The important aspect to focus on is that a choice clearly exists. The FCC is trying to take away that choice by forcing producers to create and viewers to watch watered-down versions of otherwise truthful and blunt portrayals.
PBS has always been a reliable source for airing the true essence of reality programming. In reality, people curse. And not because it seems like a cool thing to do or because they saw someone else do it. They curse because they have been in jail for years and are growing desperate. Or because they were caught in a cross-fire during battle and it was the first word to pop out of their mouths.
These are realities, and if PBS is being scared into not portraying these as they always have, then the FCC is doing a disservice to us all. If viewer dedication and respect could keep public television afloat, PBS would be around forever. Unfortunately the FCC, in a somewhat cowardly move, is punishing PBS by taking away what it needs most to survive. To me, this, not cursing, is something we should find offensive and vulgar.
After initial high hopes for "Hex," the BBC America's new budding-witch-goes-to-high-school series, my expectations have plummeted as the 10-episode pilot season comes to a close (the last episode airs next week). The series has all the makings of a supernatural hit: It's set in an eerie, gothic, British country mansion that serves as a boarding school for high school students; the central character, Cassie, discovers she's descended from a long line of witches dating back for thousands of years; her best friend Thelma dies in the first episode and comes back into Cassie's life as a ghost; and then there's the hottie Azaziel--the dark fallen angel who's in love with Cassie.
Yet with all the potential of its lore, characters, and setting, the show is very, very low on the witchcraft and high on the sex obsession. The entire season has revolved around Cassie's sex life (and Thelma's lack of one now that she's a ghost): fluctuating between who Cassie will be shagging next and the dire consequences of shagging a fallen angel even though he's really hot (apparently even having sex with angels requires condoms).
The last several episodes, however, have shifted the series from tolerable to absurd. After Azaziel finally gets his heart's desire and 200 Nephilim (scary gargoyle-looking demons, not to be confused with the very human-looking Nephilim from ABC Family's television movie "Fallen," which aired earlier this week), a new character, Ella Dee, shows up to single-handedly cut down each and every Nephilim one by one. Ella even has a fighting stick that looks remarkably like a stake, and she also arrives with her very own ancient-looking chest of various weapons that she can use against the scary demon creatures. Sound familiar (ahem, Buffy)? Oh, and I shouldn't forget the matching attitude and sarcastic wit.
Don't the creators know that television viewers have been there, done that? That we can see how they are copying another famous slayer-girl character? Apparently not. I'll give "Hex" until its season finale to make a final decision, but I'm guessing my days watching "Hex" will be limited to Season One.
A little indie movie called "The Lather Effect" is making the rounds in art houses and is screening at the L.A. Independent Film Festival. It's a small movie in the true spirit of independent film. Its director (Sarah Kelly) has been a production assistant and doesn't have too many recognizeable credits. The actors have mostly artistic and television credits.
The drama behind the drama is that this could be a really great human-interest story about how some talented-but-unfamous people made meaningful movie that someday could become this generation's "The Big Chill," "The Breakfast Club," or "St. Elmo's Fire." It is made up of this decade's "Thirtysomethings" whose gathering include both partying and reflection. But the movie may well not make it into nationwide release.
Though I can't vouch for this movie in particular--it's possible that it's just no good--it strikes me that these days, the better a movie is, the less of a chance it may have to make it into wide release. We're a more diverse nation than we used to be, and that is good. But it also means that a film generally needs to paint its story in broad strokes to catch the widest possible audience and pay for itself. What passes for excellent writing, depth of relationships, and cultural comment may "work" for too small a segment to be profitable.
Or, who knows, years from now we may talk about "The Lather Effect" as this generation's "Brat Pack," actors we never knew of until, well, we knew them.
Every now and then, amidst the summer blockbusters and unrealistically romantic comedies, a small film comes along that promises to provide a respite from the wild explosions and happy endings of all films typically Hollywood. This summer's foray into the alternative, "Little Miss Sunshine," is a shining beacon of intelligence, layered performances, and great writing. Sliding its way into the family road trip sub-genre by way of VW Bus, "Sunshine" could, and should, become the sleeper hit of the summer.
The Hoover family is beyond dysfunctional: Dwayne (Paul Dano) is a teenage follower of Nietzsche and doesn't speak; Sheryl (Toni Collette) is never home; Richard (Greg Kinnear) is fixated on developing his nine-step program for success, Grandpa (Alan Arkin) is preoccupied with the prospect of his own death; and seven-year-old, beauty pageant-obsessed Olive (Abigail Breslin) is lost in the shuffle.
Adding some spice to the Hoover household is the arrival of Sheryl's brother, Frank (Steve Carell), who, after a failed relationship and subsequent suicide attempt, is left in his sister's care. That same day, Olive receives the biggest news of her young life; she gets to compete in the Little Miss Sunshine pageant in Redondo Beach, California. Intent on not disappointing the youngest Hoover, the entire clan boards a hilariously decrepit VW Bus and heads for California--with what's left of their sanity in tow.
Tight quarters can do a lot for forced interaction. Cramming six people in a VW Bus for two days is no exception. During the course of events, each family member succumbs to an evaluation of his or her own self-worth--and some are hit harder than others. To those hit hard, it's a horrific blow. Circumstances happen to make these revelations hilarious, but somehow, at the same time, both heartbreaking and eye-opening.
Directors Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris do a fine job; comedy replaces tragedy at all the right moments--important for maintaining that oh-so-delicate balance that makes black comedy work. In directing your first feature film, it helps to have the kind of stellar cast assembled for "Sunshine." Most notable amongst them is Steve Carell, whose serious turn proves yet again that comedians can take on dramatic roles--and quite successfully at that.
I encourage all those seeking refuge from the current bevy of over-budgeted Hollywood movies to check out "Little Miss Sunshine." If anything, it's sure to make you feel better about your own family.
Could 30 days walking in someone else's shoes change what you believe? That's the premise of what is perhaps the one truly intelligent reality TV series on the tube this summer--Morgan Spurlock's ("Supersize me") FX series "30 Days." Premiering for its second season last night, "30 Days" tackles cultural hot topics by bringing together two people on polar opposite sides of an issue to live together for, that's right, 30 days, in the hopes of teaching them a lesson about tolerance and understanding.
The cultural hot potato of illegal immigration was the focus of last night's episode, in which a border patrol volunteer, Frank Jorge--who just happens to be a legal immigrant from Cuba-- moves into a one-bedroom apartment with an illegal immigrant family of six in east Los Angeles. He has to give up all of his I.D., work the same back-breaking jobs that they do, and make the same measly amount of money. Even as Frank eats, sleeps, and goes to church with the Gonzalez family, he remains resolute in his belief that it is better for America if millions of immigrants are returned to their homeland instead of taxing our society's resources. The Gonzalez's oldest daughter, Armida cannot understand this logic, because she is equally as passionate about her family's desire to achieve the American Dream.
Unlike much of reality TV, there is not a huge payoff or special twist at the end of each episode. In the case of Frank and the Gonzalez family, while Frank becomes emotionally attached to the family, neither side really changes their beliefs. Frank does decide to give up working with the Minutemen patrolling the border, but he still does not approve of the Gonzalez family's "undocumented" lifestyle.
But this is why "30 days" is as frustrating as it is fascinating--there are always more unanswered questions than answered ones at the end of each episode. But perhaps most importantly, the series--which promises to tackle topics such as abortion, atheism, New Age healing, and outsourcing in future episodes--embraces the notion that perhaps we can incite change in our culture one person at a time. It just may take a little longer than 30 days to see the results.
So, if you could have a life-changing experience by walking in someone else' shoes for 30 days, whose shoes would you choose?
What do Jerry Falwell and the Sci-Fi Channel have in common? Okay, you can enter your comments below, but the real answer is that they both figure to lose if the U.S. Senate passes a so-called cable TV reform bill that would allow cable customers to pay for their television by the channel, instead of having to buy packages of hundreds of channels at once. If the bill becomes law, according to an editorial by Rev. Falwell, it will likely force much Christian televangelism off the air. That, says the founder of the Moral Majority, would be a very, very bad thing.
Why would a Congress stuffed with born-again Baptists do such a thing? The GOP majority is convinced that cable is too expensive, and too crowded with nasty niche programming that corrupts our children's minds. They hope that by mandating a per-channel payment system, more kids will see better, more wholesome fare.
But like many government mandates, this one may backfire. As one member of Congress who opposes per-channel billing explains, "Most consumers would pay more for less, as the sweeping rules would decimate small and niche programmers while hiking prices." Why? because cable channels that now get a share of HBO's subscription audience would be cut out of the picture if that audience could buy HBO alone.
Religious stations would be in the same boat as these other low-drawing stations. "Faith-based and family-oriented broadcasting does not draw the same level of advertising," says the Faith and Family Broadcasting Coalition's website. If forced to compete in a per-channel world, religious broadcasters would have to charge customers much more than they pay now just to survive. That would cause some customers to drop the Rev. Falwell and his bretheren; others, of course, would simply have less money to send to the ministries' 800 number.
At first, it sounded like an unfair bureaucratic issue. Paula Kerger, the new President and CEO of PBS, has been speaking publicly about her fear that PBS may face fines for violating the "fine print" of FCC laws in its upcoming presentation of Ken Burns' World War II documentary. At first glance, it would seem unfair for the FCC to dictate how the story is told, let alone issue fines of over a half a million dollars per incident.
But it turns out that the issue is not about politics or historical bias: it's about language. Basically, PBS wants to cuss. As Kerger said, "In order to tell some stories, we may need to use language that the FCC may not think is so appropriate."
The issue is coming months after a PBS affiliate was fined $15,000 for using two common cusswords in its "The Blues" series. In June, President Bush signed off on the significant increase of the maximum fine.
I think it's about time for more significant restriction of television cussing. One of the cusswords in "The Blues" was about the most gross and vile of all cusswords. The other is so common it is often shouted loudly at sports events. Parents are well-known for correcting their kids when they cuss--especially at young ages--but rarely consider how often their kids hear cussing in the neighborhood, at school, in music, in movies and on live television.
There once was a time when television--especially during prime viewing periods--was a safe respite from the neighborhood's foul language for a young person to be entertained and (especially on PBS) even educated. They deserve it back. To think that history can't be re-told without cussing is like saying Sex Ed. can't be told without pornography.
And if adults require the R-rated language version, let them make the donation receive the unedited DVD in the mail!
When the fragrance company Coty asked Russell Simmons, the hip hop zillionaire and yoga junkie, to create an alluring perfume for women, God was the furthest thing from their minds. This week's New York magazine reports that Coty expected something sultry and sexy, along the lines of Simmons' ex-wife Kimora Lee's fragrances. Imagine their surprise when Simmons made a potion of "spiritual" oils and called it Atman, Sanskrit for "divine self" or "God."
Coty freaked. "We had quite a standoff," Simmons told New York. "They told me God doesn’t sell, God isn’t sexy. I think God is sexy." But Coty relented when they saw that testers actually liked the stuff. A Coty exec told New York: "God wasn’t something that we thought was mainstream, but Russell was so passionate about it... and now it makes perfect sense."
It seems like the Coty execs just don't get what's happening with the mainstreaming of Eastern-tinged spirituality. Every bottle of perfume sells more than a scent--or we'd all just put on some nice-smelling baby powder and be done with it; it's selling a promise. And up till now that's been the promise of alluring pheromones, sophistication or naughtiness, class, and wealth. But now serenity, balance, and radiant inner beauty are what's hot--and Russell is a genius to put those in a fancy bottle and sell it at Macy's.
You can get your own God-in-a-bottle in September; Simmons will donate his proceeds to charity.
In the age of user-generated videos distributed to your computer via youtube.com, stupidvideos.com, and ifilm.com, employers might want to consider adding "forgiveness" to their list of hiring pre-requisites. Melanie Martinez is the perfect example of what the future will look like if they don’t.
Martinez, the former host of the PBS Sprouts network's "Good Night" program, was let go after she let executives know about one of two shorts she starred in entitled "Technical Virgin." The film is 30 seconds long and features Martinez comically explaining the things that a girl can do to technically remain a virgin. (She remains fully clothed throughout--the video is more sophomoric than risque, and actually kind of funny.)
By no means am I condoning the message conveyed in the film, but I am a firm believer in forgiveness. Martinez made the film seven years before PBS even knew she existed. I assume that her motive for making it was pure entertainment of the Saturday Night Live variety. This 30-second clip shouldn't be used to judge the content of her character.
It would be one thing if she was moonlighting as a pamphlet distributor on the streets of New York encouraging teenage girls to fornicate, but she isn’t. It takes seven years for debts to be cleared on credit reports, so why not let seven be the magic number of years for forgiveness? Why not forgive her for her trespasses?
We live in the age of user-generated content that can be created as easily as we receive it. We also live in a country where we are supposed to be protected by the first amendment's promise of freedom of speech. Are you telling me that the millions of people putting content on the web (some less appropriate than others) can one day expect to get a pink slip from their job because of a "for entertainment purposes only" video. I am not sure whether to abide or revolt. It's comparable to the ridiculousness of using someone's MySpace page as a character reference for a job application.
Verily, verily I say unto you, this revolution will be televised!
posted by Nicole Symmonds @ 12:02 PM | Permalink |
Most fans of "The Colbert Report" know by now that its hilariously truthy host Stephen Colbert moonlights as a good Catholic family man. Last night his Catholic leanings were put to the test by his guest, William Donohue, president of the Catholic League, who made quite an impression.
My curiosity was piqued when Colbert announced the name and affiliation of last night's guest at the beginning of his show. I wanted to see how the Catholic Colbert would fare sparring with an arch Catholic conservative such as Donohue, known for his media savvy and controversial public statements. Though the Catholic League's mission is to further "Catholic civil rights" and fighting anti-Catholicism in America, somehow that often translates to a lot of efforts against gay-rights initiatives such as same-sex marriage. And last night, Donohue's rhetoric didn't disappoint, as he went on and on about how the one thing that unites conservative Catholics, evangelical Christians, and Orthodox Jews is the evil, secular left. His commentary was sure to offend just about any group that might be watching, aside from religious conservatives like himself (including liberal women and Jews, gays, and people who are not in support of Bush right now). I searched for the clip on YouTube but so far, no one has posted it (though you can see Donohue go on about the "Jews and Hollywood" if you wish).
The biggest question I was left with following the show: What exactly did Mr. Colbert think of this fellow Catholic? He was rather silent last night and not nearly as hard-hitting with his guest as one might expect. Was he simply overwhelmed by Donohue's sharply stated views or was he somehow agreeing with what Donohue stands for? I certainly hope not. Listening to Donohue reminded me of the perennial question I am always asking myself: Whether there's any place for someone like me in a Church with powerful men who offend me like Donohue does. Public figures like Colbert generally give me hope that indeed there is room. But after last night, a girl has to wonder.
In an article for The New York Times, Clive Thompson reports that video games--at least some of them--are turning their attention away from mangling bodies for pure sadistic pleasure and oggling impossibly endowed women for that other kind of pleasure. Called "serious games," these newfangled video games allow players to try their hands at solving the Middle East peace crisis--as either the Palestinian president or the Israeli prime minister--or fight the Janjaweed, in a game called "Darfur is Dying."
An Israeli-born developer for "Peacemaker" (which is about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict), Asi Burak, told Thompson that "people get very engaged [in the game]. They really try very hard to get a solution. Even after one hour or two hours, they'd come to me and say, you know, I know more about the conflict than when I've read newspapers for 10 years."
The United Nations gives away their own video game for free online called "Food Force," the subject of which is obvious from the title, and MTV is behind the popular "Darfur is Dying," also given away for free. Of the latter, Thompson reports that, "In the first month alone, 700,000 people played it. Of those, tens of thousands entered an 'action' area of the game--political action, that is--where they can send email messages to politicians and demand action on Darfur."
As a former video game addict myself (I had to give it up years ago so I could enjoy a normal life), I know how engaging games can be--drawing a player in for hours to solve a single task just to get to the next level. It's fascinating to imagine what hundreds of thousands, even millions, of young gamers might come up with if, all at once, they were engaged for hours on end, day after day, in solving the Middle East peace crisis. Maybe we'd actually get somewhere.
What Irish monks did for the ancient classical texts, a dedicated group of evangelical missionaries may be doing for the world's disappearing languages. Since 1939, the Global Recordings Network has been spreading the gospel to remote parts of Africa, Asia, the Pacific, and to migrant farm workers in California, people they call "tailenders" because they are the last to be reached by progress. The GRN missionaries believe nothing builds trust like the language of the hearth, so they distribute recordings of Bible stories and Christian teachings in their prospective converts' own tongues, building hand-cranked cassette players and phonographs to play in . As a happy side effect, GRN, the subject of a documentary showing on PBS's series "P.O.V." tonight, has been building what may be the largest archive of dying languages in the world.
Less happy, in the view of the filmmakers, is what evangelism does to the people it reaches. Even the missionaries say that Christianity makes locals more willing to compromise with corporations who come to despoil their lands, and their converts say they were drawn by Western prosperity--cars and town living--as much as Christianity. GRN's volunteers, after all, are concerned with the fate of souls, not rainforests. The filmmakers are so anxious to signal their disapproval that they begin to burden the film with simplistic critiques, portraying GSN's efforts---indeed, American Protestantism itself--as "a syncretism of Christianity and technology." Eventually their overt hostility bogs down a film whose images alone do more to expose the wariness, awe, and desire of the tailenders than any voice-over lecture.
"The Messengers," a new eight-part series on The Learning Channel featuring 10 of the nation’s up-and coming inspirational speakers, left me somewhat less than inspired. In the premiere episode, the contestants are left to live for 24 hours on L.A.’s skid row, after which they are given a few minutes to expound upon the night’s chosen topic in front of the voting, studio audience. This aspirational American Idol has its own panel of judges: Richard Greene, a communication coach dubbed "The Master of Charisma" by the Sunday Times (UK), and Robert V. Shuller, pastor of emergent ministries of the Crystal Cathedral Ministries. The winning “messenger” will be rewarded with a publishing contract and a television special on TLC.
The show attempts to establish a sense of gravitas with its opening montage of Buddhist monks praying, rabbis reading from the Torah, and yogis practicing their craft to the tune of Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus,” as interpreted by the late Johnny Cash. The contestants range from an ex-Raiderette cheerleader turned spiritual seeker to several Christian pastors.
We never really got to know the contestants before they were taken to skid row, and so watching them try to connect with the homeless felt prurient and almost exploitive, in a way. As one angry woman said when a contestant approached her, “Get your hands off me! We don’t have homes... you do! I’ve been on the streets since I was 11 year old.”
Back in the studio, we hear each person’s take on that night’s topic of “charity.” Both the pastors, Robert Rutherford and Darryl Van Leer, do very well, and Angelica Osborne, the quirky apartment manager from Alabama, is clearly a front-runner. Platitudes were abundant (“Charity is not what I can do for this homeless man, but what he can do for me.”), but there were also some lovely turns of phrases and some truly engaging deliveries. I was disappointed, however, that we didn’t get to see the full speeches of at least three contestants, including Iman Mafi, a Muslim youth lecturer, and Zahava Zaidoff, a former Orthodox Jew, and that their deliveries were so short.
I wholeheartedly agree with panelist Greene that rhetoric is quickly becoming a lost art, although I might not go as far as to say that it’s “important for the soul of our country.” Then again, I’m not “The Master of Charisma.” But does inspirational rhetoric make good television? So attuned are we to the vicious “vote-them-off-the-island” mentality of reality television, that it somehow feels wrong when a reality show pits people against each other in a spoken-word battle of feel-good messages.
Perhaps the producers counted on Floyd Nolan, student of spiritual development, to shake things up. Floyd strutted onto the stage and sat down, saying: “I don’t have a lot of time and that’s mostly because I have to pee.” To which Richard Greene responded, “You call that a speech?!” and waved his hand dismissively (or at least the film was edited to appear that way). Unfortunately, Floyd was voted off and no other “character” has yet emerged. While the format is odd, the show is intriguing in what it is trying to accomplish.
You may not have heard of him yet, but for the past year or so, filmmaker Simcha Jacobovici has hosted a television show in Canada--where he is huge--as "The Naked Archeologist," in which he is neither naked (thankfully) nor an archeologist (interestingly). The show's wanton title comes from its premise--to "strip down" Biblical archeology for the layperson, or as the auteur himself states on the VisionTV Documentaries website, "to demystify the Bible in general, and archaeology in particular, to brush away the cobwebs and burst academic bubbles."
But Canada isn't enough for this veteran of 30 documentaries; in his latest opus, Jacobovici takes on the biblical account of the Israelites' Exodus from Egypt. In its beginning moments, the film, The Exodus Decoded, taps into our cultural memory, evoking the iconic--if fictional--image of the Ark of the Covenant, as found by Indiana Jones. The Ark is boxed and rolled away by a nameless worker, vanishing into a government warehouse of similarly boxed items. The question is, what happens to the inquiry after that? The film goes a step further, analyzing the archeological and historical evidence surrounding the biblical Exodus. As executive producer James Cameron--yes, that James Cameron--explains in the introductory narration that the film is on "a mission to answer the question: is the Exodus fact, or fiction?"
Of course, the business of attempting to prove a historical basis for biblical stories may necessitate challenging the status of the events these stories portray, events that religious people of multiple faiths believe are miracles. For instance, the film posits that the Ten Plagues, regarded by many as the miraculous centerpiece of the pre-Exodus narratives, did indeed happen, but that they were the result of a geological event, the Santorini volcanic eruption. The plague of the rivers turning to blood was a natural gas leak causing the water to be red-tinted; the pollution of the water caused all the fish to die and the frogs to hop out to safety, because they were the only ones who could; that led to pestilence, etc.
Those who are unwilling to find natural causes for biblical miracles will undoubtedly rail against the premise of the film; others might be more willing to say that a historical explanation is not inconsistent with miraculous status. Perhaps, in the more expansive view, a natural event--with the proper amazingly appropriate timing--is what creates a miracle.
posted by Esther Kustanowitz @ 5:58 PM | Permalink |
ABC Family's original movie, "Fallen" which aired last night (Sunday) and promised all sorts of exciting enchantments--prophecies, redemption, destinies revealed, and the lore of fallen angels--fell far short of my hopes for movie magic. In fact, rather than a movie, "Fallen"-- starring Paul Wesley as Aaron Corbett, a boy who wakes up on his 18th birthday to discover that he is half-angel, half-human, called a Nephilim--feels more like a series pilot than a movie that brings closure to its storyline.
The story begins with myth, narrated with images and a voiceover by Aaron who explains to viewers:
When God created man, jealous Lucier mounted a great rebellion in heaven. His army of angels was defeated and forever banished from Paradise. These angels, The Fallen, abandoned Lucifer, choosing to live on Earth among the pleasures of humans. They took more wives and fathered abominations--Children called Nephilim, with the power of angels, but the souls of men. Angry, the Creator flooded the Earth, killing the Nephilim and driving The Fallen into hiding. He sent The Powers, fierce warrior angels to hunt those that survived the flood. But there was hope for The Fallen in a prophecy. A Nephilim would be born who would redeem them and return them to Paradise. So the Fallen watched...and waited....
Of course, Aaron turns out to be the Nephilim prophesized as the redeemer. A large part of the plot involves Aaron discovering this unwanted destiny that will take him away from the family that loves him and put him in the treacherous path of The Powers who want to destroy him. Without the promise of deeper storyline development, however, "Fallen" feels thin on plot and unfortunately comic at moments, since a lot of the dialogue is conducted between Aaron and his dog Gabriel (yes Gabriel, like the angel). The dog-speak is finessed by the fact that Aaron, as the redeemer-Nephilim, can understand all languages including those of the animals, though it was a campy choice for a movie that takes itself very seriously.
Apparently it's not a coincidence that I felt I was watching a pilot episode rather than a fully developed film, since ABC Family plans to air a six-hour sequel mini-series next summer. So viewers have not seen the last of "Fallen," though why ABC would decide to air such an open-ended, "to be continued" story a full year before revealing more is a mystery to me.
And I can't help wondering: What came first, the BBC's "Hex" or ABC's "Fallen"? I only ask because "Hex's" story arc revolves entirely around the Nephilim as well. I'm not sure television has room for two Nephilim-centered stories. One seems enough to me.
In the last few days, I have found more articles debating what in the world has happened to director M. Night Shymalan's career than I have found positive reviews about his latest movie, "Lady in the Water." Not exactly good news if you are Shyamalan. And while I tried to keep an open mind, "Lady In The Water" is, in fact, yet another huge disappointment from someone who has created some truly iconic movie moments (and no, I am not referring to his last box-office bomb, "The Village").
"Lady In The Water" is not a creepy thriller like the TV ads want you to think, and it is not quite a fantasy, like Shyamalan passionately insists it is in every interview he does about the movie. "Lady in the Water" is the tale of Story, a mythical creature who lives underneath the swimming pool of a suburban apartment complex, and is an odd mix of fairytale, drama, and not so-subtle commentary on everyone who has panned Shyamalan's work in the past. Story is discovered by the unhappy and lonely apartment manager, Cleveland, and with his help, she fulfills her purpose by connecting with a struggling writer, way too conveniently played by Shymalan himself, who needs inspiration so he can finally write the story that will change our culture.
Once she has completed her mission, Story finds it difficult to return home due to a dangerous creature lurking in the nearby woods. With the help of a snarky movie critic, Cleveland rallies others in the apartment complex to help Story return to her home and live happily ever after.
And while many critics are ranting and raving about Shyamalan's ego overtaking his talent--really, was there no room left in the budget to cast another actor, any actor, for Shyamalan's part in the movie?--I have to say one thing in defense of "Lady in the Water" and Shyamalan himself. As I watched this movie, I had no doubt that Shyamalan truly loves telling stories and sincerely believes in the spiritual power of telling stories to shape our culture. In fact, one of the many problems with "Lady In the Water" is that he beats us over the head with this sentiment at every turn.
In a recent interview where he was reflecting on the power of writers to shape events, Shyamalan said, "It's a beautiful thing and an empowering thing to be able to hear, if you could, the beauty of the spiral of things that happen. If God could tell you when you die, 'This is what you did,' it would be so cool." Nice sentiment. So I'll just keep the faith that his next movie might yet find Shyamalan back in top storytelling style.
(If you want to read two other interesting opinions about Shyamalan's latest, go here and here. And if you want to watch a wonderful but underrated Shyamalan film from his early days as an unknown director, go rent the little-seen "Wide Awake.")
The Mouse House is promising to become more family friendly than ever with plans to release 10 live-action and animated films per year under the Disney name--none of which will be rated "R." According to The Hollywood Reporter, Disney Studios has made a major staff change, with Oren Aviv--who had previously been on the marketing side--taking over as president of production for Disney. His predecessor, who was officially given the boot Tuesday, had brought in edgier directors and producers, such as Wes Craven and the Coen brothers ("Fargo"), who developed films that were not so family-oriented.
So what's really behind this big announcement? Is it another example of Hollywood listening to the audience that sent "The Passion of the Christ" soaring to unexpected box office heights? Perhaps a little bit. Has that Disney boycott that some conservative religious groups started years ago finally paid off? Not likely.
Christian organizations like the Dove Foundation have been collecting statistics for a while now proving that R-rated movies don't make as much as PG or G movies. Disney has simply learned that lesson the hard way. Much of its high-budget adult-themed fare has done dismally in recent years at the box office (anyone remember "Hidalgo," or "Pearl Harbor," for that matter?), while "Chronicles of Narnia," "National Treasure," and all of the animated films it has done in conjunction with Pixar have done extremely well. Like any smart business, Disney is simply committing to what has been most profitable. And keep in mind that nothing is preventing Disney from producing as many R-rated movies as it wants under its many other subsidiaries that do not carry the Disney logo.
So while some may wish to believe this is a huge step in closing the gap and the cultural disconnect between Hollywood and the religious community, I'm not convinced Hollywood is truly tuned in to what families or church goers want at the cineplex--yet.
One of this summer's great pleasures has been watching the progress of Underoath, the Christian "screamo" band whose third album, "Define the Great Line," debuted at #2 on Billboard's 200 chart. That feat earned them a spot on the main stage of the Van's Warped tour, the 12-year-old traveling festival dedicated to the rock genre known as emo (think heavy-metal with a suggestion of melody).
Not that it has been all roses for Underoath. "Bands that haven't met us before are kind of sometimes skeptical," Underoath vocalist Spencer Chamberlain told a fan magazine recently. "Like, 'Oh man, these kids are not going to be any fun.' They judge us for something that Americanized Christianity has turned into which is everything that we kind of stand against."
Chamberlain would be referring to people like "Fat Mike" Burkett, of tourmates NOFX. "I like to point out to the crowd when we're on stage that Underoath doesn't believe that dinosaurs existed," Burkett related in an interview.
Rank-and-file headbangers, however, show signs of accepting Underoath, dinosaurs or no. During the Warped stop in Los Angels, the L.A. Times' reviewer, after making pro-forma cracks about Chamberlain's "Christ-like locks" and Underoath's "youth-group-revival feel," praised the group's "lush keys and daunting complexity," noting that the group's performance of their song "'I'm Drowning in My Sleep' isn't exactly 'Kum Ba Yah' by the campfire." High praise indeed.
The Christian power-house publisher Zondervan, together with Media Group, has plans to release a star-studded audio-version of the New Testament with Samuel L. Jackson playing the voice of God, and Forest Whitaker as Moses--to name just a few Hollywood luminaries showing up on their voice-roster. Also included are: Angela Bassett, Blair Underwood, and Oscar-winning actors Denzel Washington and Cuba Gooding, Jr.
In a recent press release, Zondervan explained the motivations behind such a grand endeavor:
"Inspired By Media Group, producers of the project, selected the TNIV (Today's New International Version of the New Testament by Zondervan) version based on its superior combination of accuracy and readability. The goal of utilizing the TNIV is to increase the audio Bible's reach to the 18-to-34 demographic while simultaneously creating a product that will appeal to the mature consumer."
The All-Star Bible is due to release some time during this October.
New York City's public radio station, WNYC, has a wonderful segment today on a hair salon in Dyker Heights, Brooklyn, that doubles as a Catholic shrine, crammed with ornate renderings of the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and the archangels, including a statue of the Infant of Prague that has 12 outfits that the owner changes each month. Says one customer, "It makes you feel safe in a way. I feel like I'm in church sometimes, but it's a good feeling."
Why was Jennifer Aniston's production partner, Kristin Hahn, visiting Ken Wilber, the founder of the Integral Institute, author, and Beliefnet columnist well known among people interested in integral spirituality and body-mind-spirit connection? Talking movies, according to Ken's blog. Specifically, talking about bringing Ken's "Grace and Grit" to the big screen, with Aniston in the lead role.
"Grace and Grit" is Ken's book about his wife Treya's battle with breast cancer, her transformative spiritual journey, and her eventual death. Amy Cunningham, who writes Beliefnet's Chattering Mind blog, took a moment out of her well-deserved vacation to email me her thoughts on "Grace and Grit":
What's so moving about the book is that it lays out how a couple wildly in love grows and heals in challenging circumstances, using conventional and holistic healing techniques, and how in the end, the wife dies a transcendent, inspiring, beautiful death. He promises to find her again one day. As a love story, it's unbelievably sad. They meet, they can't keep their hands off each other, they marry, and three weeks later she gets diagnosed with breast cancer. No reader can put this book down.
Aniston would play Treya, a difficult role that obviously requires her to show the physical toll of the illness as the movie progresses. According to Ken's blog, "The project is in an early stage at this time as drafts of the screenplay are currently being written. But, one thing is certain; there is a mutual desire of all involved parties to find a way to tell this remarkable story."
I am not an avid watcher of "South Park" though I do catch an episode now and then if it airs leading up to The Daily Show. But I admit I was curious about the now-infamous Scientology-Tom Cruise episode, "Trapped in the Closet," which aired in November 2005 and caused all sorts of hype in the media, sparked threats of lawsuits from Cruise, and led the man who played Chef (Isaac Hayes) to quit the show. Due to the controversy, the creators decided not to air the episode again, to the dismay of many fans.
Until last night! They finally put the episode into syndication.
So, for the first time ever, I intentionally tuned in to "South Park," and, like all other episodes I've seen, it was hilarious in that outrageous "South Park" way: Stan plays the alleged reincarnation of L. Ron Hubbard, Scientology's prophet and founder, and there is a very funny cartoon rendering of Scientology's "alien secret knowledge," with a banner on the screen flashing, "This is what Scientologists actually believe" underneath. It's obvious why Scientologists were upset since the arc of the show is not simply to make fun but to make the point that the entire religion is supposedly a scam.
The part about Tom Cruise "trapped in the closet and he won't come out" was very funny at first, but got old pretty quickly when it went on for about 15 minutes of the episode.
Check it out for yourself. It will come around again soon I'm sure.
The book, which includes interesting profiles and short facts about the songs (chosen by Christian music executives and 2,500 Christian music fans) and the artists who popularized them, as well as cool sidebar lists such as "Songs About the End," "Quiet Little Songs That Pack a Punch," and "15 Incredible Songs You May Never Have Heard Of," was both entertaining and informative and would make a great primer for someone just getting into Christian music--or for someone like me, who knows about the new stuff, but not so much about the old.
Some predictable, yet deeply deserved, picks made it to the list, most likely due to the songs' success in the mainstream market, ie: "Alive," by POD (#76), "Flood," by Jars of Clay (#7), "I Can Only Imagine," by MercyMe (#4), and "Dare You to Move," by Switchfoot (#50). And, of course, CCM greats, Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith, Sandi Patti, and Steven Curtis Chapman had a number of their hit songs in the book, as did big names from all facets of Christian music, ranging from pop, rock, hip-hop, inspirational, and more.
One of the more surprising picks I came across was the single "To Hell With the Devil," (off the album of the same name) by the band Stryper, whose name is an acronym which stands for Salvation Through Redemption Yielding Peace, Encouragement, and Righteousnes. Stryper was the first group to popularize the Christian metal genre and looked like most of the typical 80s metal bands--high hairsprayed hair, tight spandex stage outfits (theirs was yellow and black), makeup, and a high-pitched, screaming lead singer (Michael Sweet).
Although "To Hell With the Devil" is still revered by fans of Christian (and secular) metal as a classic, I didn't think CCM Magazine would be so cool as to give such high recognition to not only Stryper, but to Christian metal in general. It seems the harder the music--no matter what its message--the higher the likelihood that religious conservatives are going to label the music as Satanic, which is, of course, what happened with Stryper. It's good to know CCM Magazine turned a deaf ear to such nonsense.
Besides, you've really got to love a band that, along with drumsticks and guitar picks, tosses Bibles into the hands of their head-banging audience.
So what Christian songs would be at the top of your "100 Greatest" list?
The highpoint of 1960s Radical Chic has long been marked by a party held at Leonard Bernstein's Manhattan duplex at which the city's sparkling social elite gathered to meet members of the Black Panthers. The highpoint of 2000s Radical Chic, or 2006's, anyway, appears to be, in the words of a Gannett article making the rounds of small-town papers--"Judaism as pop culture is spreading to places where people have been unfamiliar with -- even intolerant of --Jews." Read: America west of the Hudson and east of the Hollywood sign.
The article is more curious than satisfying. Headlined in some markets "Judaism Takes Center Stage in American Pop Culture," Gannett's reporter Jessica Wanke cites as evidence the presence of VH1's show "So Jewtastic!", Comedy Central's "Heroes of Jewish Comedy," the popularity of Matisyahu and Madonna's embrace of Kabbalah. Judaism may be looking hip these days, but if you remember a time when George Burns, Joey Bishop, Shecky Greene, and, yes, Sammy Davis Junior were once nearly inescapable eminences on TV (if you don't, tune in to Comedy Central), the current Judification of pop culture barely registers.
Stranger still is that Gannett appends a sidebar tracing the effect of "Black Power" on fashion and entertainment. Okay, Matisyahu is a weird phenomenon, but his rise barely qualifies as a cultural moment akin to the recognition (some would say co-opting) of African-American civil struggle. Look harder and what you'll see is a Hasidic kid adopting a reggae--black West Indian--sound. Black, it turns out, is the new Jewish.
Think performing a Shakespearean play is about nothing more than a bunch of guys running around in tights reciting some frou-frou poetry you can't even understand? The convicts at the Luther Luckett Correctional Complex, a medium security prison in Kentucky, would disagree with you.
In one of the most inspiring but overlooked documentaries from last year, "Shakespeare Behind Bars," out on DVD today, follows a group of murderers, pedophiles, and other felons as they audition for, rehearse, and finally perform a production of Shakespeare's play "The Tempest"--not coincidentally a story of imprisonment, isolation and redemption--as part of their rehabilitation. Over the course of almost a year, as these hardened men work together, they not only learn to love the language of Shakespeare but they also find themselves challenged to ask questions about forgiveness and reconciliation. The words of Shakespeare become a lifeline, as the play becomes a point of focus and hope for some who are in the prison for life with no parole. For those, the beauty of Shakespeare is the only glimpse of transcendent beauty in a dark world.
Mixed in with interviews with the cast members/inmates as they wrestle with guilt and shame is a subtle commentary on the prison system itself. As the men share their past pain and ever-present despair, we come to view these inmates as people, not monsters. Some of the prisoners seem to be rehabilitated and are ready to return to society but are then denied parole again and again for arbitrary reasons. But at the same time, the documentary is not one sided as we see some inmates revert to their former deviant or violent behaviors only to be taken away to solitary confinement or to a maximum security prison. Sadly, for them the hope of redemption remains elusive.
So get thee to Netflix and celebrate your inner drama geek by renting this little film that is smart but never simplistic and is sure to remind you that even the darkest of hearts which have committed the most heinous of crimes are never beyond salvation.
Since the invention of blog technology--which made instant publishing accessible to the masses--we have taken for granted the immediacy of the form. For people who grapple with issues of faith, our instant access to the thoughts, feelings, and experiences of others begs a question: what would Jesus--not to mention L. Ron Hubbard--blog?
Now, thanks to writer Paul Davidson's new book, "The Lost Blogs: From Jesus to Jim Morrison," we have some of the answers. Davidson gives us the access we've been waiting for, escorting us into the blogpages of famous historical figures, including several prominent religious leaders.
In Davidson's world, Jesus runs a Carpentry Blog, in which he provides hints about creating a "water or wine rack," the perfect place to "store both satisfying thirst quenchers in one place and never find yourself deficient of either…" "The Lost Blogs" also grants us access to Moses's personal account of the parting of the Red Sea, in which he urges readers to "check out Pharaoh's blog, which will, I'm quite sure, contain some fairly amusing observations about yesterday's incident involving me and the chosen people of Israel." In another post, Brigham Young bemoans his impossible task of shopping for Mothers' Day (apostrophe after the 's' is intentional--he's a polygamist, get it?).
There are also entries from a house-harried Muhammad ("These freakin' kids are driving me crazy") and science fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard notes an amusing conversation with a friend: "We talked about how hilarious it might have been had people modeled a religion... based on the theme of strange alien creatures that must be eradicated or else humans would suffer! A religion based on getting rid of aliens! Hah!"
On Davidson's site, thelostblogs.com, you are informed that you have reached the homepage of WOMP, the World Organization for Manuscript Preservation. WOMP positions "The Lost Blogs" as the book that will "finally put to rest the debate over whether or not well-known historical icons actually did take advantage of ancient blogging technologies."
For those interested in acquiring fake historical memorabilia, the WOMP store also "sells" items like the "John Wilkes Booth Authentic Theatre Head Shot," "William Shakespeare's Lost Transcripts Of His Unreleased Play, 'Duke, Where's My Carriage!?,' and a series of selected photos from "Helen Keller's photoblog." Initial investigation indicates that the aforementioned items have not been carbon-dated to determine authenticity, because that would take all the fun out of it.
posted by Esther Kustanowitz @ 5:22 PM | Permalink |
If a rose by any other name is still a rose, then is Mr. T without his miles of gold chains still Mr. T?
The AP reports that Mr. T, star of "The A-team," Rocky movies and his own eponymously named Saturday morning cartoon, is saying bye-bye to the bling after experiencing the devastation wrought by Hurricane Katrina.
"As a spiritual man, I felt it would be a sin against my God for me to wear all that gold again because I spent a lot of time with the less fortunate," the AP quotes the actor as saying at the Television Critics Association's summer meeting.
"I saw some, I call it 'sorry celebrities.' They'll go down there [New Orleans] and hook up with the people to take a photo-op. I said, 'How disgusting.' If you're not going to go down there with a check and a hammer and a nail to help the people, don't go down there."
And that's the kind of unvarnished opinion that the former Lawrence Tero will bestow upon viewers of his new advice show "I Pity the Fool," premiering on TV Land in October.
I have to disagree with Michael, my fellow Idol Chatterer, who fails to see the importance of Joe Public getting a glimpse of little Suri Cruise. Since the beginning of this so-called love affair (I mean relationship) between Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, the couple has been so kind to let us in on every detail. We’ve seen him jump on the couch on "Oprah," wildly gush about how much he loves his woman-child (after mere weeks of courting), and proudly display his affection for her on many occasions and continents.
So why be shy now?
After the visual assault that was laid on America, TomKat dares to shy away from the paparazzi photo gallery of their first born, and even worse, allegedly keeps family and friends from actually seeing her. Sure, the birth of a couple's first child is sacred, but once you become a celebrity you give up all rights to sacredness. It should be no surprise that the paparazzi are beating down the door at all three of TomKat's homes and that speculation is abounding day by day.
Of course there is going to be backlash among the masses because so much of our regularly scheduled lives were interrupted by the walking blog otherwise known as TomKat. A monster has been created amongst the people of America, who feel it is what is owed to us after months of having front row seats to the show.
TomKat, ask not what your country can do for you, but ask what can you do for your country--and the millions of us who you've entangled in your web will answer, “Show us the baby!” And don’t wait until your next movie to come out for the Suri Showcase.
Adam is your typical 19-year-old. He likes to work out, has tattoos, and goes out on dates. But Adam, as it turns out, is not just a typical university student, but a famous Canadian healer--"The Dream Healer."
Last night, John Quinones of ABC's "Primetime Live" took a closer look at this suburban Canadian cutie's claims to heal people of cancer, immune disorders, and other maladies. Quinones is no stranger to reporting on faith healers, having done a prominent report on the South American psychic surgeon/faith healer John of God in 2005.
But Adam claims not to be a faith healer. In fact, though he diagnoses patients by looking at their auras, he claims there's nothing spiritual about what he does, that it's all based in science, and that he is simply manipulating people's energies, fixing breaks in the flow of their energy. But despite his claims, he certainly had what one might call a spiritual experince while gaining his skills. According to Adam, at the age of 15, he had a vision that told him to go to an island, where he had mystical mind-meld with a large black bird that imparted the scientific mysteries of the universe to him. After that, he cured his mother's MS.
Quinones and the ABC cameras were allowed to witness Adam's technique at one of his sold-out seminars. Taking place completely in the dark, Adam goes into a sort of trance and is able to see people's energies and fixes them, moving his hands in the air as if he's actually rearranging building blocks.
What Adam does, frankly, is nothing new. Acupuncture and acupressure reportedly release blockages of chi ("energy"), practicioners of Reiki claim to work with energy centers of the body, and creative visualization is a mainstream practice. But, what makes Adam different is that he essentially "cured" someone on live television. When rock-n-roll pioneer Ronnie Hawkins was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, a filmmaker decided to document his last days. What the film ended up documenting was Hawkins' amazing recovery--the tumor had disappeared--and he attributed his miraculous recovery to Adam.
And it doesn't hurt that Adam's got the looks of a teen idol--the perfect MTV mystic.
Quinones points out that the cancerous tumors "cured" by Adam had never actually been biopsied, and he interviewed physicists who said that science simply doesn't work the way that Adam says it does. They do a test to see if Adam can change the reporter's brainwaves, based on previous tests that showed he could. And, of course, the ABC crew also follows several attendees of the seminar to see how Adam's work has helped them. In the end, it's a mixed bag, but one woman, whose soldier husband was severly wounded in Afghanistan, simply won't give up on her husband and believes that Adam is helping him.
Which leads to Quinones' final point: That even if Adam is not doing one substantive thing, people's belief that he is may spur the mind-body connection into healing the body. Again, this is not a ground-breaking idea and even Adam alludes to the mind-body connection several times.
Adam is not a particularly elegant speaker or a studied salesman. In fact, his own father, an engineer, doubted his abilities as first, but is now his manager. His sister picks on him for not healing her zits, and he geniunely seems like a normal guy--nothing like the stereotypical faith healers seen in the movies. And that's why this report was so anti-climactic as far as television goes. Unlike John of God, who--avert your eyes if you're squeamish--was scraping peoples' eyeballs with a scalpel and sticking forceps deep into peoples' noses, to name just a few of the "surgeries" he does, Adam simply fiddled with their energies and told them to do visualizations. And he seemed to actually agree w
ith Quinones on some points.
But Americans will be able to judge for themselves soon enough: Adam is slated to begin an American worskshop tour at the end of August.
If you're the kind who likes to hit the beach armed not with literary fluff but with serious reading, surf's up: two of the year's most important and engaging books with a religious twist have been published just in time for summer vacation. From Nextbook/Schocken Books comes "Betraying Spinoza: The Renegade Jew Who Gave Us Modernity," by Rebecca Goldstein. Goldstein meditates on the thought and image of Baruch Spinoza, the 17th-century philosopher, who was excommunicated by his Sephardic synagogue in Amsterdam at the age of 23, but who remains a hero to Jews even today as one who fashioned a Jewish identity outside strict orthodoxy.
As this review in The Forward points out, Goldstein, a novelist as well as a philosophy prof, is at her best when she introduces moments from her own life to elucidate the Jewish community's complicated relationship with a thinker whose philosophy often swerves closer to Buddhism, according to this interview with Goldstein, than traditional Judaism.
If Spinoza draws his fascination from being an outcast from his faith, Henry Ward Beecher was the ultimate insider. A son of the monolithic Calvinist preacher Lyman Beecher and the brother of Harriet Beecher Stowe, Henry took as his birthright the mantle of public intellectual, turning his pulpit at Brooklyn's Plymouth Church into a forum for debating slavery, women's rights, temperance, and other controversies of the age, and turning himself into "the most important person in America," in the words of his contemporary, Abraham Lincoln. Debby Applegate's new biography captures why we're not taught much about Beecher in high school: Not only was Beecher's life marred by scandal—he was put on trial for adultery in 1875—but he helped invent the particular swirl of money, politics, celebrity, and religion that invigorates American life but also marks its most contentious and turbulent times.
Last season's "24" ended months ago and next season's series won't start until January. I'm not sure there's another show on TV that could retain an audience over that long of a hiatus, but perhaps one reason it works is the increasing number of people who are buying or borrowing the previous seasons on DVD.
The "24" phenomenon reminds me of what happens when a novelist becomes popular: a growing audience will buy his or her earlier books in an effort to catch up while awaiting the next novel. And that makes sense, because "24" is novel-like in its attention to detail, number of sub-plots, and depth of story and characters that can sustain an audience over a suspended period of time--with commercials.
I'd like to think the audience for "24" is growing because of the ethical challenges facing its characters in each episode and our cultural desire to examine our decision-making in a reflective-yet-entertaining way. I also think part of the reason "24" is capturing viewers old and young, men and women, network and cable is because it combines the convenience of entertainment-watching with the depth and breadth of a good novel. Spiritually speaking, we all have a bandwidth that is compelled by story, plot, drama, comedy, characters, conflict, resolution, and denouement. Books go deeper, but TV and movies are (for many) more convenient. "24" brings the best of both worlds.
But watching the prior seasons of "24" on DVD also means no commercials and no waiting until next week, and that probably has a lot to do with it. Instant gratification combined with compelling tension equals the consummate vicarious experience which doesn't quite equal the ultimate real thing that is our lives and life choices, but it's certainly safer and doesn't cost as much to learn from.
While the autobiography of D-list actor turned outspoken skateboarding evangelist Stephen Baldwin is not in Christian bookstores quite yet, one quote from the book--entitled "The Unusual Suspect: My Calling to the New Hardcore Movement of Faith"--is already stirring up controversy and making some of us evangelical types actually wince. In the book, Baldwin criticizes none other than U2 rocker Bono for his efforts to help the impoverished and infirmed in Africa (what this could have to do with Baldwin's autobiography--you know, about his perssonal life and all--is still unclear to me). Baldwin writes that Bono "would do far more good if you just preached the gospel of Jesus rather than trying to get rid of Third World debt relief."
For starters, Bono is not trying to get rid of Third World debt relief. Quite the opposite: He is trying to convince governments to provide more Third World debt relief. And while I realize Baldwin is still relatively new to the Christian faith, I would hope someone at the Palau organization, the ministry Baldwin partners with, would have explained to Baldwin that Jesus is just as excited about providing food to the hungry and medicine to the sick as he is about a really cool finger flip on a mini-pipe.
I understand the deep-seated need to see The Chosen One, baby Suri, the TomKat spawn. Really, I do. My life also is incomplete without a sighting of the little princess. I also am on board with the Tom-has-gone-nuts crowd, and likewise see much of what he does these days through that prism. But to criticize the new parents for not accepting oodles of cash in return for having their baby's photos splashed across the tabloids?
People, come on: Let's take a moment and think of what we're saying here. Time was, we criticized celebs for eagerly parading their young in front of the cameras. And now we're dissing them for insisting on an ounce of privacy? And if that's not bad enough, this is leading people to speculate that poor Suri doesn't even exist--as if a People magazine spread has become the pop-cultural equivalent of a birth certificate.
Maybe it's the soon-to-be father in me, but I sympathize with TomKat on this one and applaud the couple's refusal to bow to the pressure and allow their privacy--and their baby's--to be invaded. TomKat, you do your thing and let us see Suri when you're good and ready--or don't. It's your call entirely.
But while it's still a few months off, my wife and I will be happy to auction off pictures of our little one when he or she arrives. I realize we won't get TomKat-level payouts, but shall we start the bidding at, say, half a mil? Anyone?
Blender magazine has named James Taylor the #1 "wuss" ever. According to the magazine, J.T. is accused of initiating "an era of confessional, listen-to-my-troubles singer/songwriters" and turning "self-examination into a hallmark of the baby-boom generation."
J.T.? A "wuss"? You've got to be kidding me!
James Taylor is about the least wussiest guitar master and stud singer ever. At a time when real wusses followed the crowd and protested, J.T. was original, authentic, and refreshing ("Sweet Baby James," "Fire and Rain") even when covering someone else's tunes ("Up on a Roof," "You've Got a Friend"). While the pop culture honored everyone and everything it could blame for issues and guilt, J.T. wrote and sang with personal responsibility ("I Will Not Life For You," "Millworker"). When cheesy singers sang cheesier fake love songs, James wrote steamrollin' lyrics like "I'd like to roll all over you." When lead singers had to lose their sound in studio effects and headbanging bands, J.T. opened concerts solo with his ax and a plain spotlight; while others donned costumes, J.T. sang in a t-shirt, jeans, and the occasional collared shirt.
In other words, he brought the music--the words and the passion--and not much else. And years later, while the cheesier guys have faded, J.T. is still a musical force and his lyrics have transcended a generation.
I would hope a spiritual person is clear on the difference between a "wuss" and, well, whatever the opposite of a "wuss" is. My #1 vote for the #1 Wuss is the Blender editor who gave J.T. the title. His career, I suspect, will land somewhere between chopped and puree, while J.T. continues to entertain audiences full of non-wusses who gladly pay for the privilege.
Want to see "Kill Bill" without the four-letter words and violence ? Do you prefer watching Kate Winslet on the Titanic with her clothes on? Too bad. Four companies which have profited from bleeping, muting, editing , and otherwise altering the suggestive content of blockbuster movies before customers rent them, have been ordered by a Colorado judge to release their inventories of doctored films to Hollywood studios in the next few days because the companies are violating copyright laws. CleanFlicks, Family Flix, and other companies that retail the new versions of the movies--primarily in conservative religious communities in the South and in Utah--have cited "fair use" laws as justification for altering content of the movies, while the Directors Guild of America and other Hollywood groups have claimed that the artistic integrity of these movies is violated when they are altered by a third party.
While I certainly agree with the court ruling, the amusing aspect of this story is, for me, the unspoken hypocrisy of both sides of the fight. Studios allow their movies to be altered by a third party all of the time. Ever watch "Bridget Jones' Diary" on a network like NBC or a thriller like "Unfaithful" on basic cable? Both movies have been edited, bleeped, and scrubbed squeaky clean of much of their racier content.
At the same time, seeing the ad for "Kill Bill" on CleanFlicks website, I am trying to imagine a scenario in which any of Quentin Tarantino's films, no matter how they are edited, could be considered family friendly. And the Christian community in particular cannot continue to complain about a film like "Face the Giants" being given a PG rating because of too many references to Jesus, when many in that community are so quick to support the altering of someone else's artistic expression.
France’s soccer captain Zinedine Zidane finally apologized for head-butting Italian defender Marco Materazzi in overtime during the championship match of the 2006 World Cup. (Zidane was kicked out, and Italy went on to win.) And Zidane revealed the gist of what the insult was which provoked the him to ram his head into Materazzi’s chest.
But Zidane also said he didn’t regret the ugly incident because doing so would’ve meant that “Materazzi was right to say all that.” Materazzi later again denied insulting Zidane’s mother.
So, if you believe Zidane, then it was a “your motha, and your sista” incident. And those can be harsh. I know my brothers on two occasions were ready to beat someone up for insulting me. (They’ll deny it now, but they were ready to do the deed!) But still, was it worth getting kicked out of the World Cup final match at such a crucial moment?
For Zidane, the answer is obvious: It was not worth it to turn the other cheek. But I wish he had more faith, and more love for his teammates, to have held off until the match was over.
It's always a struggle to know when to interpret day-to-day events as indications of larger lessons we must learn. It's also a toss-up to know what to blow-off as something that just "happened" without an enlightened message to walk away with.
These questions all came to a head yesterday when I faced-off with a fortune cookie.
I was set to meet one of my girlfriends for dinner, but when she couldn't find the restaurant, she sat down at an Asian-inspired pub and ordered a beer, exhausted but happy after her first day on the job as a reporter for Women's Wear Daily's "Memo Pad."
I'd arrived by the time she finished her beer, and the waiter brought us the check--and our predetermined fates--couched inside two innocent-looking fortune cookies. Still beaming from the new conditions of her life, my friend opened her cookie with vigor, read the fortune, and started laughing. "The bottom is crowded, there's plenty of room at the top," it read. Her interpretation? "I can't believe I am getting this fortune on the day I started a new job!"
Though I wasn't planning on opening the second cookie, curiosity got the better of me and, deciding to see what my fabulous fortune might be, I ripped into the plastic, cracked the cookie open and found--emptiness. And not that kind of enlightened emptiness the Buddha talked about. This cookie was just plain empty. Bare. Vacant.
"Oh my God, I am going to cry!" I said to my friend, referring to some guy drama that had been occupying much of my thoughts lately. "Is the fortune cookie telling me my life is empty?!" She quickly chimed in, "I really wouldn't worry about it. I am sure it doesn't mean anything. It's just a fortune cookie."
Sure, easy for her to say--her cookie (and its eagerly embraced message) promised a quick rise through the professional ranks. Mine promised... nothing. No quick rise or dramatic fall. Nothing. I refused to eat the cookie in an effort not to imbibe its message.
So was this just something that "happened" that I shouldn't infuse with meaning? After all, I didn't spend a cent at the restaurant: Did they owe me any glimpse of my future? Or was my fortune-cookie fluke some unwelcome foreshadowing?
posted by Alana B. Elias Kornfeld @ 12:16 PM | Permalink |
Can the Virgin Mary help you lose weight? The answer is yes, according to writer/collage artist Janice Taylor--although you might be forgiven for thinking that Mary has better things to do, such as listen to all those rosaries. Taylor is the author of "Our Lady of Weight Loss: Miraculous and Motivational Musings from the Patron Saint of Permanent Fat Removal," in which she credits Mary's help for keeping off the 50 pounds she'd lost for a full five years. That's a miracle, for as most chronic dieters can tell you, most fat goes right back on.
"Our Lady of Weight Loss" is most notable for its colorful illustrations (by Taylor herself) that mostly consist of Byzantine Madonnas wearing huge, pasted-on eyeglasses—sort of a cross between Mary and the Wonkette logo. This would seem vaguely blasphemous were it not so evident that Taylor's sole lifetime exposure to the Virgin has consisted of riding along as a child with deliveries from her family's pharmacy to a convent of nuns called Our Lady of Snow. The nuns never commented on Taylor's chubbiness—a feat of politeness that the nuns at my own convent school would have praised as "very Mary-like."
Taylor's contribution to the vast array of lose-it-and-keep-it-off literature is her theory that art projects will keep your hands busy and hence out of the fridge. Instead of eating the contents of a Kraft macaroni-and-cheese box, make necklaces out of them. There is other unexceptionable dieting advice: Reach for a piece of fruit instead of a chocolate-chip cookie. Do not get up in the middle of the night and munch down half a loaf of bread.
The book also contains numerous low-cal recipes heavy on Splenda and cooking spray that I hope will not be the fare up in heaven. "'Our Lady of Weight Loss' wants o share her philosophy and her 'weigh' with you," Taylor writes. And if making a cloth sculpture of a piece of fudge cake worked for Taylor, it may work for you, too.
What does it mean for a superstar's career when shilling for a charity during a concert generates as much controversy as wearing a crown of thorns and strapping yourself to a wooden cross during a concert?
No stranger to controversy, Madonna is once again raising eyebrows, but not for her usual on-stage antics. MSNBC.com's Scoop reports that the Kabbalah-crazed Material Girl is raising eyebrows with her promotion of "Raising Malawi," a group that is helping orphans in the AIDS-ravaged nation and is connected to the Kabbalah Centre, with many prominent Kabblaists on the board. Founded by the Kabbalah Centre's Rabbi Berg, the charity, according to its website, provides these children with food, medical care, clean drinking water, and pychosocial care. Additionally, the program parters with local agencies to improve sustainability in agriculture, medicine and education ... a la the Peace Corps.
So far, so good.
It seems that things start to get controversial when it comes to "empowering" the children. "Raising Malawi" is currently working with local teachers on a curriculum that integrates the principles of the Kabbalah Center's "Spirituality for Kids" Program, which the site calls "a non-religious, unique educational program," but critics disagree.
Call it indoctrination, but, like it or not, charities with a "missionary" statement are nothing new. And while proselytization paranoia is rife in this age of ecumenism, the charity is never officially connected to Kabbalah on its website, raising many suspicions. According to the group's website, "SFK is a unique educational program for children and families from at-risk communities that teaches them how to overcome the challenges of poverty, violence, drug abuse, and a host of other social ills."
According to Scoop, Madonna once said, "It gives children the tools to deal with life's challenges. My daughter is learning about her ego and how to control it. Who'd have thought a child could learn that?" Kind of ironic since Madge got where she is today thanks to her own ego.
So the sports world was all over this story since Sunday night: What did Marco Materazzi, a defender on Italy's 2006 World Cup championship team, say to France's captain Zinedine Zidane that caused Zidane to viciously head-butt Materazzi in the final match, in overtime--getting him booted out of the game?
Here's the latest. In my last blog posting, I mentioned the rumor that Materazzi insulted Zidane's mother. It got worse last night. The new rumor is that Materazzi called Zidane a "dirty terrorist." Zidane is the son of Algerian immigrants with a Muslim background. And European soccer, I am discovering, still has a reputation of racial slurs and bigotry among fans and players.
Materazzi defended himself, saying he never called Zidane a terrorist or mentioned his mother. "It was the kind of insult you hear dozens of times and just slips out of the ground," he told Italian newspaper La Grazetta dello Sport.
Ok. So we've got a he said/no comment thing going on here. (Zidane has yet to say what exactly happened, what Materazzi said, and why he so ignobly lost his cool at such a crucial moment.)
But it gets more interesting. BBC Live Radio Five got a deaf lip reader to analyze Materazzi's mouth when the provocative insult was let loose. She interpreted Materazzi as saying "you're the son of a terrorist whore."
Whoa.
That's a double whammy--your motha, and you're a terrorist. Then BBC's Ten O'Clock News called in experts as well, and these guys determined that the insult was something to the effect of "an ugly death to you and your family." (Zidane's mother had been admitted to the hospital that day.)
Well, whatever this insult was, FIFA will investigate the red card. But I have to wonder--what will come of it? Say the insult was a racial slur. Do you reverse the outcome of a championship game for that? Don't get me wrong. Racial slurs and dirty insults are horrible, classless, and deserve no place on the soccer field, in the stands, and for that matter, anywhere in the world.
But what about Zidane's reaction? This head-butt was ugly. Is physical violence ever the right course of action? Zidane does have a penchant for hotheadedness in play, getting red and yellow cards for brutish acts in a number of past matches.
I don't have the answers. But I think Fox Sports commentator Michael Rosenberg said it well: "[Zidane] had many years to get back at Materazzi--to send compromising photos to Materazzi's wife, put bananas in the tailpipe of his Ferrari, walk up behind him and give him a wedgie, whatever else he wanted to do. But first he had to play 10 minutes of soccer. And he couldn't wait."
If you pay the slightest bit attention to the world of sports, then you know that the 2006 World Cup has come to a glorious end, with Italy taking the prize from France in an exciting match that went into overtime and ultimately was decided by penalty kicks.
I've enjoyed blogging on this great event, exploring the intersection of faith, prayer, and sports fanaticism. Passion and holy beseeching are hardly more potent than in a stadium where so many fans and players try to push their team to victory through prayer. Emotions run high on the field, and I've seen plenty of players call on a higher power to give them strength, patience, and the ability to turn the other cheek and stay the course of the game during fierce match-ups.
So why, then, did the king of the 2006 World Cup--France's team captain Zinedine Zidane--disgrace himself at the very end of the final match, in the last match of his soccer career, by head-butting Italy's Marco Materazzi when there was about five minutes left in overtime? It was a move that got him a red card and kicked out of the game.
Let me paint the scene. Zinedine Zidane, the man who led France to World Cup victory in 1998, came out of retirement for one last chance at World Cup glory. And when France stumbled in the opening rounds, nearly getting knocked out, Zidane rallied his team, coaxing better play and leading his team right to the finals. He was the heart of France's team, and came to eclipse all other players in the Cup, including Brazil's brilliant Ronaldo and Ronaldinho.
I wanted Germany (let's face it, U.S. didn't have a chance!), but when Germany lost to Italy, my loyalties (along with millions of other fans, I suspect) switched to France--and to Zinedine Zidane. He had the passion, class, leadership, and the faith to carry France through. So why, oh why, did Zidane disgrace himself by head-butting Materazzi?
It wasn't that they clashed on the field during play and Zidane took it too far. Play had stopped and Zidane and Materazzi were walking away, exchanging words when the incident occurred. Zidane's agent, Alain Migliaccio, said that Zidane told him Materazzi said something "very serious" to Zidane to provoke the violent reaction.
Rumor has it in France that Materazzi insulted Zidane's mother. Materazzi wouldn't comment after the game was over, prompting others to say he was guilty of some serious insult. But Materazzi's father said his son shouldn't be made the black sheep when it was Zidane who crossed the line. So what does it take to make a player lose his cool, and possibly, faith?
Whatever happened--and I sure would like to know real story--it sure is sad to see such a great player go out in such a bad, bad way. Kicked out, lost the World Cup championship, never going to play soccer again. That's an awfully big price to pay for not turning the other cheek.
It's high time you see "Superman Returns" if you haven't already, especially if your pastor is telling you so. Don't be super surprised if at church one Sunday in the near future, the sermon revolves around a Superman theme--I already heard one last week that explored how the superhero movie of the moment helps us to understand the idea of becoming born again through Jesus, starting over a new life in Christ.
"In 'Superman: The Movie' (1978), Jor-El (Marlon Brando) tells his infant son: 'All that I have, all that I've learned, everything I feel, all this and more I bequeath you, my son. You'll carry me inside you all the days of your life. You'll make my strength your own. See my life through your eyes, as your life will be seen through mine. The son becomes the father and the father, the son.' In what gospel does Jesus say: 'I and my Father are one'--Mark, Luke or John?"
And:
"Superman has heat vision. What New Testament book mentions that the eyes of the returning Christ 'are like blazing fire'--Acts, Hebrews, or Revelation?"
Give it a go. But be prepared--it's not an easy quiz. Luckily, Buckna provides thorough answers to all 30 questions.
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of...fun. The only movie I have been anxiously waiting to see this summer is "Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man's Chest." And I was not disappointed. Bigger, bolder and funnier than the original “Pirates," I have not had this much fun at a movie since the old-fashioned comedic action adventure movies of my teen years when movies like "Raiders" or "Back To the Future" seamlessly blended comedy and larger-than-life adventures I could have never imagined on my own.
“Dead Man’s Chest” finds our hero and heroine, Will and Elizabeth (Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightly) , once again tricked by the dastardly pirate Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) into taking on another adventure on the high seas. This time they come to his aid as Jack is forced to pay a blood debt he owes to the most notorious pirate of all, Davey Jones--who, thanks to this movie, will now become one of the grossest looking villains in movie history. If they are unsuccessful in unearthing the Dead Man’s Chest, which holds Davey Jones' heart, Jack will be doomed to a life of eternal damnation and servitude aboard Jones' ship, The Flying Dutchman. If I told you anymore than that, I would ruin the movie for you and I just won’t do it! But believe me when I tell you the action begins immediately and doesn’t stop for over two hours. The stunts and special effects throughout the film are exciting, dazzling and often completely unexpected. The action sequences truly make you feel like you have embarked on one of the greatest theme park rides ever invented.
And if you are looking for spiritual significance in the middle of all of the swashbuckling and treasure stealing , well, there are a few nice moments where the issue at hand is what you would do to stand in someone else’s place and pay that person’s debt--even when they don’t deserve it. And there’s the symbolism of Jack’s magic compass that reveals the truest desires of a person’s heart. But honestly, if you need a spiritual allegory, you are better off going to see “Superman Returns” again--and yawn--while you watch the movie drag on with self-importance.
Is “Dead Man’s Chest” a perfect adventure flick? No. It’s about twenty minutes too long. And I wish there had been more interaction, more verbal repartee, between our three main characters in exchange for one or two fewer action sequences. And it’s a little more violent than the first “Pirates”-–something I am not sure was completely necessary.
But in a summer where the action sequels have been disappointing, “Dead Man’s Chest” is your best bet for escapist entertainment that will help you get in touch with that child within you who used to play dress up or “king of the hill" with your buddies.
Hop aboard the Black Pearl, mate, and prepare yourself for one wild and crazy ride.
Since their American reissue in the 1970s, the Adventures of Tintin comic books have been dogged by the supposed racism and even downright Fascism of their pseudonymous author, Hergé. Relax, everyone: a documentary to be shown on PBS Tuesday explains that Roman Catholicism was the force behind Hergé's controversial early comics—and his lifelong battle with overwork and guilt.
A son of a devout Belgian Catholic family, Georges Rémi (his initials in French, flipped and spelled out, appear as Hergé) was just 29 when he began to draw a strip in a church magazine called "Le Vingtiéme Siècle." His first graphic novel, as it would be termed today, was an anti-Soviet screed that took the boy reporter, Tintin, to Moscow; another early work had Tintin hobnobbing with scandalously stereotyped Africans in "Tintin in Congo." A casual meeting, however, with a Chinese artist led to Hergé's transformation from a glib cartoonist to something closer to a journalist. Though he never left Brussels, over his next few books Hergé exposed the political struggles of China, then Palestine and Eastern Europe in ingeniously plotted books that are, for the most part, culturally and politically accurate. Eventually he lived down his Catholic editors' early affection for Fascism, and his naivete in continuing to publish his serial after the Nazis had invaded Belgium and closed one and taken over another of his outlets to become a hero across Europe.
It took Rémi longer to overcome the effects of his severe Catholic upbringing. "Tintin and I," a bio-documentary airing as part of PBS's "POV" series on July 11, is the result of an extraordinary set of interviews conducted with Hergé in early 1970s by a young French reporter named Numa Sadoul. Rémi opened his heart to Sadoul, detailing his long oppression under the concept of sin and how the wish for purity--chiefly as snow--made its way into his books. Hergé's personal drama is mixed with heavy doses of Tintinalia that will test even devout fans, but the picture the film draws of a man tortured even amid in wild success is a fascinating and somehow essentially 20th century tale.
By Hollywood standards, Philip K. Dick’s "A Scanner Darkly" might be the eccentric author’s most inadaptable work. The robotic intrigue of "Blade Runner" and the crime-stopping fortune-telling of "Minority Report" attracted studios and audiences alike, but this time the challenge lies in producing 100 minutes of palatable cinema with only Dick’s piecemeal storytelling and bizarre characters as source material. By applying his own brand of philosopher filmmaking, director Richard Linklater has created something unique and loyal to the author’s vision.
Decidedly his most personal work--Dick’s struggle with addiction is well-documented--"A Scanner Darkly" centers on a not-too-distant-future America, one in which a disquieting number of people spy on friends and neighbors in an effort to curb the nation’s addiction to an illegal drug called Substance D. The pervasive use of a brain-altering narcotic combined with a large chunk of the population employed as narcs makes for a film rife with perverse conspiracy theories and nonsensical diatribes.
As such, the film, at times, plays like a paranoid fantasy realized. By vague impetus, addict Bob Arctor (Keanu Reeves) studies the day-to-day activities of his girlfriend and two housemates, reports his findings anonymously to the authorities, and isolates himself in order to keep his covert activities as mysterious as the film’s quietly unfolding plot.
Done in what is becoming Linklater’s trademark style--a computerized rotoscope-like two-dimensional animation--the film fluidly combines the elements of a drug-induced delusional episode with the everyday, making for an odd, near-future world where the line dividing reality and absurdity is commonly traversed by an alarming number of people--like Jim Barris (Robert Downer, Jr.), Arctor’s roommate and centerpiece to the film’s peculiarity. Downey’s uncanny ability to speak with the speed of an auctioneer sans coherence is easily one of the most impressive displays of verbal diarrhea ever captured on celluloid. So convincing are his character’s erratic actions and bizarre remarks that I can’t help but wonder just how much of the actor’s drug-addled past is unfurling on screen. No matter what his source of inspiration, Downey’s performance should not go unnoticed.
Since the oral meanderings of some of its characters are so difficult to follow, finding the point of Linklater’s somewhat loose and tangential film is no simple matter. But this has a purpose: Both the author and the filmmaker favor intellectual provocation over a simple storyline. Unfortunately, much of what the drug-addicted characters say and do is unintelligible and consequently deemed unimportant, making it difficult to maintain focus. As entertaining as Jim Barris is, the repetitive nature of his antics grows tedious and exhausting.
That’s not to say this results in poor filmmaking; Linklater deftly paints a bleak yet avoidable future, one in which the omnipresence of authority and the ostensible lack of privacy are more than enough to arouse an audience’s intellect. Add to that impressive performances and imagery working together to blur the lines between truth and delusion, and what’s left is a visually and cerebrally gratifying film.
"Good Morning America's" new series-within-a-show, "What's Your Sign?" debuted today with my fave astrologer Susan Miller (check out her eerily prescient 'scopes at: astrologyzone.com). She talked about things like why most billionaires are Virgos. Turns out Virgos and Pisces are common superrich signs; Miller says it's because they care more about doing for others and creating a great product than they do about cash itself. She added that Bill Gates and Warren Buffet have some very similar aspects on their charts--indicators of huge wealth--even though they were born nearly two decades apart.
Miller also explained that astrology does not predict the future or interfere with free will; instead, she said, we can find out what's happening with the stars and then align ourselves accordingly so we're not swimming upstream. Diane Sawyer looked vaguely embarrassed when she was called out for being the dependable, hard-working Capricorn that she is. (Her co-hosts are apparently both truth-seeking Sagittarians.)
After reading Miller's monthly horoscopes for years, it was great to see her speak in person, despite the hokey context. She came off as warm, enthusiastic, and surprisingly non-dippy and grounded for someone who practices a notoriously flakey profession (she's obviously had some good media coaching). It was also fascinating to watch a spiritual, much-maligned art of the cosmos taken fairly seriously on national TV, albeit by a non-serious "news" show. Can't wait to see the next part in the series. Check out the segment yourself on Yahoo.com
"Everyone take a look, see I'm doing fine/Put me and my box on the 309." The stark symbol of a coffin being placed on a train bound for some unknown location is only one of the many allusions to love, death, and the afterlife on Johnny Cash's posthumous recording "American V," released last week. The twelve songs on "American V" poignantly reflect Cash's coming to terms with his own mortality in the months after his wife June Carter Cash's death and prior to his passing in September, 2003. During this time, though he was weakened by asthma and diabetes, Cash reportedly found solace in returning to the recording studio one last time to do what he had done many times before in his career--share his deepest joys and sufferings with his fans.
While the brooding and frail vocals on a heart-wrenching song like "Help Me" might be a bit too painful for any but the most die-hard Cash fans to listen to, other songs are as enjoyable as they are thoughtful. "Rose of My Heart" and "Love's Been Good to Me" are sweet tributes to his late wife, while songs like "If You Could Read My Mind" and "A Legend in My Time" are humble, and occasionally slightly humorous, musings about how his career will be remembered after he is gone.
It's unfortunate that much has been made in the press over whether or not this musical farewell truly represents Cash's final wishes (the final song choices were all made by producer Rick Rubin after Cash died) because "American V" feels like it is a labor of love for Rubin as much as it must have been for Cash. More importantly, this is a tour-de-force celebration of a life fully realized. As I listened to the tracks of this recording over and over again, I couldn't help but think to myself that here was a man who had loved passionately, felt fully every experience he had--good and bad--and now had come to a place of total peace with his life. And the reason for that peace was clearly God. Cash has certainly sung about his faith before, but perhaps never with this much vulnerability. Songs like the remake of his hit "I Came to Believe" and the vibrant, foot stomping rendition of "God's Gonna Cut You Down" give listeners fresh glimpses into the depth and fervor of his faith.
While it remains to be seen as to whether or not "American V" will actually be the last musical journey of Cash (Rubin has come out in recent interviews saying that there are more than enough tracks to release for an "American 6"), with this recording Cash's musical and spiritual legacy will now not only include his unflinching views of life, but his calm, unwavering sense of hope in the face of death.
Whatever happened to music that can change the world? I'm talking about folk music, music with roots and wings and a message.
Folk music is dead, you say? Tune in to your local PBS station starting July 5th for Bruce Springsteen's "We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions" on Great Performances to hear music with more vitality, joy, and, yes, meaning than you’ve heard in a long time.
I admit it: I'm a dyed-in-the wool folkie. During my NYC high school years, Joan Baez and Bob Dylan were just starting out in Greenwich Village, and I've never recovered. A few years ago I was somehow lured to a Springsteen mega-concert in Giants Stadium in New Jersey where 60,000 people were standing on their seats, grooving to every word. But I bolted before the break--I didn't recognize a single song except "Born in the USA."
So it was with joyous disbelief that I got hold of Springsteen's new Seeger Sessions album. The Boss, a rock 'n roll kid from Asbury Park, N.J., came late to folk music. It wasn't until 1997 when he recorded "We Shall Overcome" that he got to know Pete's music and influence. He loaded up on Seeger records and was converted.
Over the next few years he gathered a group of singers and musicians who played accordion, fiddle, banjo, and washboard and in three unrehearsed sessions recorded 13 songs popularized by Seeger. Springsteen says in the liner notes: "Street corner music, parlor music, tavern music, wilderness music, circus music, church music, gutter music, it was all there waiting in those songs, some more than one hundred years old."
What he got was some of the most uplifting, spiritual, rollicking, spontaneous, and world-changing music ever created, most of it by that great old songwriter, Traditional. It's part of what Seeger calls the folk process, the borrowing and rearranging of old songs for new times.
When you hear "Mrs. McGrath," an 1815 Irish ballad about a soldier returning legless from war ("A cannonball on the 5th of May tore my two fine legs away"), you can't help thinking of the recent news photo of Sgt. Christian Bagge, who lost both legs in Iraq. "All foreign wars I do proclaim/ Live on blood and a mother's pain" calls to mind Cindy Sheehan.
The beautiful Pentecostal hymn "O Mary Don't You Weep," which became a civil rights standard, contains this chilling prediction, "God gave Noah the rainbow sign/Said 'No more water but fire next time.'"
"Jacob's Ladder," a Negro spiritual, was transformed into a worker's hymn when the chorus "soldiers of the cross" was rewritten as "brothers and sisters, all" by striking textile workers in the 1940s.
"Keep Your Hand on the Plow," a Holiness hymn, became "Keep Your Eyes on the Prize," a staple of the civil rights movement.
"My Oklahoma Home," an ironic memoir of the Dust Bowl by "Sis" and Bill Cunningham, in which a man loses his farm, crops, animals, and wife ("Everything except my mortgage blown away"), calls up thoughts of New Orleans.
And of course "We Shall Overcome," the inspiration for this album, about which Springsteen writes: "The most important political protest song of all time, sung around the world wherever people fight for justice and equality. Originally a Baptist hymn, brought into the labor movement in the 1930s, popularized among civil rights workers in the 1950s." It is every bit as timely today as in the '60s and '70s. Note to today's generation: Listen up.
Layers upon layers of meaning and history infuse these songs. But that doesn't make them less fun--the arrangements have a
strong Louisiana zydeco flavor and rhythm that beckons you to let the good times roll.
As Seeger, a cradle Unitarian, might put it: How can I keep from singing?
The end of Seinfeld was the kiss of death for just about its entire cast--save Jerry Seinfeld of course. Will the similar end of power house drama "The West Wing" mean the same for its long time actors and actresses, who have walked away with armfuls of Emmys but not necessarily a future career?
Emmy award nominee Dule Hill, who played Charlie Young, the President's personal aide, for the entire life of "The West Wing" (all seven seasons), is first up to try out life after a beloved television drama is laid to rest. He'll make his post-West Wing debut as Gus, best friend of the central character, Shawn Spencer, in the new USA series, "Psych," premiering Friday, July 7 at 10pm. "Psych" is an upbeat crime-solving comedy about a cop's kid--Shawn--who convinces the police that he's a psychic. Shawn's not really a psychic, he's just meticulous in his attention to detail. Dule Hill will play Shawn's sidekick and reality check when things head out of hand.
I'm rooting for a successful life after West Wing for all concerned and will be interested to see how "Psych" plays out for Hill, his second time around as an assistant of sorts.
This Sunday's New York Times Magazine article "Her Lonely Voice" features Katell Keineg--the singer-songwriter that could've been a star but didn't become one (even after she was signed to a six album contract with Elektra). When reporter Darcy Frey asked the still aspiring Keineg why she still wrote and played despite over a decade of disappointment, Keineg had this to say about music:
"For me, listening to music is akin to a religious experience; it's the closest thing to a religion I have. I mean, I wouldn't put it in terms of God, because I'm an atheist, but I think humans are hard-wired for religion, hard-wired with a sense of divinity, however you interpret that. There's probably some evolutionary advantage to it--this urge for meaning."
And apparently, at least from the article, simply watching Katell Keineg sing on stage is quite spiritually ecstatic in and of itself. For New Yorkers, she plays the Living Room (yes that place that Norah Jones made famous) this Thursday night at 9pm.
Last Thursday night, NYC's flagship Barnes & Noble in Union Square held a special event featuring a conversation about faith between the eclectic, very successful Moby (musician, vegan, tea entrepreneur, and self-proclaimed Christian--sort of), and Chicago Sun Times religion reporter Cathleen Falsani, in honor of her new book, "The God Factor." The book is a collection of Falsani's columns of the same name (with a few additions purely for the book). Each one features an interview between Falsani and a public figure, from up and coming politicians (Barack Obama), to the musically and generally famous (Bono), to the infamous (Hugh Hefner is the most startling entry).
Though Moby doesn't have his own turn in Falsani's book, they teamed up to give a live demonstration of how Falsani approaches her task of revealing the private religious and spiritual persuasions of the famous for public consumption.
Over the course of an hour, with Falsani's direction, the audience learned of Moby's colorful, spiritual history--from a Taoist phase during his teenage years to impress a girl, to his "pro-gnosis" period in college when he and friends decided to believe in everything (get it: pro-gnosis), to his conversion to what he described as an annoyingly, righteous Christian for about a decade, and onward to where he is now: a Christian believer, though one reluctant to label himself Christian. Moby spoke about the spiritual beliefs behind his veganism (don't hurt any sentient beings), growing up in Connecticut and attending the Bush's church (turns out, George W. Bush bought that Texas ranch in 1999 at the suggestion of Karl Rove to make him seem less aristocratic), and most interestingly of all, his vision of the spirituality of music. Music, like the spirit, is the only art you can't touch, he explained. Yet it's also the only art you can experience with your eyes closed and it is one that permeates the entire body--just like the Holy Spirit.
Funny at times, a bit over the top at others, but wonderfully interesting, smart, and entertaining overall, listening to Moby speak about all things spiritual and religious was a treat. For more where that came from, check out Falsani's fascinating book, "The God Factor," and just imagine the conversation happening before you.
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.
Idol Chatter hardly needs to add to the barrage of quips, canned responses, and commentary about Mel Gibson's anti-Semitic outburst during his arrest early Saturday morning. Sadly, even in the 21st century, and even from stone sober blatherers, talking crazy about "the Jews" is about as surprising as a cyclist failing a urine test and, pathetically, less consequential: Mel will continue to make movies and Americans will continue to go see them. The folks who might have abstained from his flicks because of his "Jews start all the wars" tirade likely already abstain because of Mel's refusal to denounce his father's Holocaust-denial views, and because of "The Passion" itself.
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After initial high hopes for "
Every now and then, amidst the summer blockbusters and unrealistically romantic comedies, a small film comes along that promises to provide a respite from the wild explosions and happy endings of all films typically Hollywood. This summer's foray into the alternative, "
What 
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In the last few days, I have found more articles debating what in the world has happened to director M. Night Shymalan's career than I have found positive reviews about his latest movie, 
One of this summer's great pleasures has been watching the progress of 
I am not an avid watcher of "
Is your idea of a good time sitting around with your friends, debating your all-time favorite Christian Contemporary songs? Me neither. However, when I came across the new book, "
One of the more surprising picks I came across was the single "To Hell With the Devil," (off the album of the same name) by the band 
The highpoint of 1960s 
Since the invention of blog technology--which made instant publishing accessible to the masses--we have taken for granted the immediacy of the form. For people who grapple with issues of faith, our instant access to the thoughts, feelings, and experiences of others begs a question: what would Jesus--not to mention L. Ron Hubbard--blog? 
If a rose by any other name is still a rose, then is Mr. T without his miles of gold chains still Mr. T?
If you're the kind who likes to hit the beach armed not with literary fluff but with serious reading, surf's up: two of the year's most important and engaging books with a religious twist have been published just in time for summer vacation. From Nextbook/Schocken Books comes "
If Spinoza draws his fascination from being an outcast from his faith, Henry Ward Beecher was the ultimate insider. A son of the monolithic Calvinist preacher Lyman Beecher and the brother of Harriet Beecher Stowe, Henry took as his birthright the mantle of public intellectual, turning his pulpit at Brooklyn's Plymouth Church into a forum for debating slavery, women's rights, temperance, and other controversies of the age, and turning himself into "the most important person in America," in the words of his contemporary, Abraham Lincoln. Debby Applegate's 
While the autobiography of D-list actor turned outspoken skateboarding evangelist 
Can the Virgin Mary help you lose weight? The answer is yes, according to writer/collage artist Janice Taylor--although you might be forgiven for thinking that Mary has better things to do, such as listen to all those rosaries. Taylor is the author of "
If you pay the slightest bit attention to the world of sports, then you know that the 2006 World Cup has come to a glorious end, with 
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of...fun. The only movie I have been anxiously waiting to see this summer is 
Since their American reissue in the 1970s, the 
By Hollywood standards, Philip K. Dick’s "A Scanner Darkly" might be the eccentric author’s most inadaptable work. The robotic intrigue of "Blade Runner" and the crime-stopping fortune-telling of "Minority Report" attracted studios and audiences alike, but this time the challenge lies in producing 100 minutes of palatable cinema with only Dick’s piecemeal storytelling and bizarre characters as source material. By applying his own brand of philosopher filmmaking, director Richard Linklater has created something unique and loyal to the author’s vision.
"Good Morning America's" new series-within-a-show, 
