Idol Chatter: May 2007 Archives

Davis Guggenheim, who took home an Oscar for "An Inconvenient Truth," has a fiction film hitting theaters this Friday. "Gracie," which stars Carly Schroeder as a 14-year-old girl who goes from underdog to soccer champ in the aftermath of her brother's death, seems about as akin to endangered polar bears as, I don't know, "Adventures in Babysitting," the '80s hit starring Guggenheim's wife Elisabeth Shue. Shue, who played soccer as a child and who was later devastated by her brother's death, is the real-life inspiration for "Gracie."

"I have a secret," Guggenheim said in a recent interview with me. "Everyone says these movies are so completely different, but I think they're very similar."

As Guggenheim points out, both movies share the classic heroic arc perpetuated by Joseph Campbell: a protagonist who confronts major obstacles to achieve great things. So Al Gore, who promoted his then-unpopular belief via a book ("Earth in the Balance") after his son's nearly fatal car crash, later decided to hit the road with an environmentally cautionary slide show, and Guggenheim was there with a video camera.

Likewise, Schroeder's Gracie, in a fine evocation of Shue's gutsy teenage doppelganger--Guggenheim describes his wife as a teenaged "hellion" who stole her priest stepfather's church convertible and drove around town wearing a bonnet--commits what a friend calls 'social suicide' by trading cheerleading pompoms for soccer cleats. Though her father (Dermot Mulroney) initially discourages her, and her mother (Shue) initially doesn't think her soccer dreams are possible, Gracie strenuously trains and wins over even the pit-bullish head coach who bans girls from the weight room and discourages her from taking her brother's place on the Varsity soccer team.

Gracie's opponents may bring to mind global warming detractors, from students protesting showings of the film to right-wing critics who made a fuss when both the book and documentary were released. According to Guggenheim, the Academy Award didn't give "Inconvenient Truth" more credibility--it had credibility from the get-go. The Academy Award got people to see it. And science or sports not-withstanding, the filmmaker credits his latest projects with teaching him about the human spirit.

"This is gonna sound cliché. And I wouldn't have said this a year ago. But the thing I'm focused on is people's spirit; it's that thing you can't describe that Elisabeth has, and that sometimes does not represent itself until you hit bottom, until life knocks you on your ass. And out of that comes your spirit," Guggenheim said.

Spirit will be needed in the fight against global warming, which Guggenheim said has the potential of bridging the left and right, citing Arnold Schwarzenegger's plan to reduce emissions of greenhouse gasses and Rupert Murdoch's decision to make FOX carbon neutral as examples.

"The ice melts have only gotten worse, the polar bears have only gotten worse, the sea level rise has only gotten worse. Global warming is with us for a long time and to stop it it's going to take immobilization of huge proportions. It's like a war."

Guggenheim's next battle may be the making of a documentary focused on the rising oceans.

"The people who didn't want to see real change thought if they ignored us we would go away," he said. "And we didn't."

-- Posted by Jenny Halper

Below is a review of "Please Come Home," the new solo album from singer Dustin Kensrue, frontman for post-hardcore band Thrice. It was the winning entry of a student writing contest at Biola University, a Christian evangelical school in Southern California.

After six discs of screaming rock melodies, driving rhythms, and electric guitar riffs, the frontman of Orange County's eight-year-old band Thrice decided to take a stab at a solo project.

Call it folksy. Call it raw. But Dustin Kensrue's overtly Christian album is anything but the expected.

Most of the intricate electronic compositions that launched Thrice to fame are stripped away, leaving little more than a guitar, a simple strumming pattern, and the rough edges of Kensrue's vocals.

But if this is acoustic, it's anything but lethargic. At times amped up with driving ska beats, a Wild-West harmonica and some intriguing blues progressions, it's something of a cross between inventive punk and Johnny Cash country.

What's refreshing is that along with the musical complexities, Kensrue has also stripped away the cryptology of Thrice's work. He lays out ballads that are simple and unashamed, a change from the band's hope-filled but darkly allegorical lyrics.

Perhaps that's because Thrice's official position on faith was never explicit as Kensrue's own. A proclaiming Christian and alum of Biola University, he laces parables and Old Testament biblical references throughout the eight-track CD.

There's a maturity to his work—the kind that comes from wearying years in the fast-paced L.A. indie scene. He answers the inauthentic Hollywood lifestyle with the track "I Knew You Before," telling a friend, "you always dreamed to share your heart/ but all you share is your bed" and lamenting her "dark glasses that no one can see in."

He talks of settling down in "Blood and Wine." And he embraces the simple life in "Consider the Raven," a catchy little number featuring an interlude of saloon piano and the line, "between the river and the raven I'm fed/ Sweet deliverer you lift up my head."

On the title track, a warm, modern retelling of The Parable of the Prodigal Son, he sings, "Don't you know son that I love you/and I don't care where you've been/please come home."

There is nothing of what the New York Times called "mini-epics" and "anthemic choruses" that characterized Thrice. But it's a highly personal, deeply spiritual album that showcases Kensrue's vocal versatility, innovation and faith with equal conviction.

Kensrue has tried something entirely new with "Please Come Home." Distancing himself from the security of his band was risky business, but the poetry of this album proves that being transparent and pioneering just works.

--By Michelle Rindels

What is it like to perform the Hajj? The only people who can tell this story are the Muslims who have been there. So how can everyone else--Muslims and non-Muslims--get a real sense of what it is like? Sure, documentaries have been filmed and books have been published. In fact, Beliefnet has its own excellent coverage of the Hajj. But how cool would it be to know what the pilgrims themselves feel day-by-day as they go through the various stages of this holy Islamic pilgrimage?

Well, now we have that chance. JustSayGo Films , makers of the award-winning film "American Ramadan," are looking for people who plan to go on the Hajj in 2007. They want to film a documentary on the journey unlike any other--not only are they going to film the various parts of the trip, but they plan to give video cameras to the participants and have them record a video diary.

This is bound to be a unique look at the Hajj from the perspective of American Muslims--which is why I decided to join the project myself. If anyone else is interested in participating in this exciting endeavor they should contact the filmmakers.

--Hesham Hassaballa

As a Christian, I can tell you that Christians can have a tendency to take their religion a wee bit too seriously. Not that religion isn't serious, but it's also ripe for humor, right? Too often we confuse disrespecting God with disrespecting his followers, who, let’s face it, frequently deserve the ribbing.

Case in point: the "Mr. Deity" video podcast.

The Mr. Deity of the title is God himself, portrayed here as a Hollywood producer type, complete with a long-suffering, straight-guy assistant, Larry, a freeloading son, Jesus, and a resentful ex-girlfriend, Lucy, who, you guessed it, is in charge of hell. The show is a behind-the-scenes glimpse into Heaven, offering, as the Mr. Deity website tells us, "a humorous (and slightly irreverent) look at the day-to-day operations of the universe and the 'Big Man' in charge." The podcast confronts these issues "with a smile (and sometimes, a wink). Our goal here is not to mock religion, but to use it as a foundation for the humor."

Creator/writer/actor Brian Keith Dalton, who describes himself as a former Mormon (or "Forman") came up with the idea for Mr. Deity after the unspeakable carnage of the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami that killed more than 300,000 people. Dalton found himself in agony, wondering how a just and loving God could allow such a horrific tragedy. He decided to
flesh out his doubt in the best way he knew how—with humor.

The result was the first episode of the series, in which Mr. Deity is just putting the final touches on the universe when Larry informs him that they need to confront the problem of evil. Should they allow holocausts, disease, natural disasters, childhood cancer, Celine Dion? Begrudgingly, Mr. Deity allows it all and then, clinically depressed, takes off the 7th day of creation.

It's a fantastic concept, and Dalton and his team nail it. (You can watch it at the bottom of this post.)

Realizing the podcast offered them a unique way to work through their own issues (while simultaneously generating some buzz for their careers in Hollywood), the team decided to do more episodes, poking fun at other timeless and thorny quandaries such as the Ten Commandments, the inerrancy of Scripture, Jesus' sinlessness, homosexuality, the merit of
prayer, and the answer to the age-old question—does God care who wins the Superbowl?

When I was first introduced to Mr. Deity (by a delighted minister friend) I felt compelled to share it with everyone I knew. The response was fascinating. Those who I thought might be offended—like my conservative Christian friends—lavished it with praise, while many I assumed would be instant fans found it borderline sacrilegious or downright blasphemous.

A quick perusal of the comments at iTunes (where each episode is free for the taking) reveals a
fan base that seems to transcend religion—both born-again Christians and die-hard atheists profess an undying love for the series.

To be sure, Mr. Deity is not without its detractors. One Christian attempts to refute what he sees as errors and cites chapter and verse to back up his claims, while another calls it "sacrilegious crap" and argues that "if you are a Christian, you have no place watching this."

Mr. Deity certainly walks a fine line, but I find the podcasts to be hilarious without ever being offensive, insightful while never straying into sacrilege. I find it refreshing to see the really
serious questions of life tackled with thought-provoking humor instead of the usual dry
dissertations.

But am I wrong? Is Mr. Deity blasphemous, a dangerous and profane sacrilege wrapping itself in a candy coating? What do you think?

(Note: The podcast, which usually updates every two weeks, has gone on a recent hiatus. The buzz is that it is in talks to be converted into a half-hour television series.)

--By Brandon Fibbs

It seems reasonable to assume that a film whose soundtrack is a setting of the Passion of Christ from the Gospel of John will have a religious or spiritual theme. The film "Passio" by Paolo Cherchi Usai, presented during the 2007 Tribeca Film Festival, is a silent film about the plight of the human condition, but it was accompanied by a live performance of spiritual composer Arvo Pärt's moving oratorio of the same name.

I also expected a spiritual experience because the event was presented in the midst of the massive Cathedral of St. John the Divine, and the Pärt was performed by the choir of Trinity Wall Street, probably the finest choir in New York City.

My expectations were very wrong--at least concerning the film. The music was heart-rendingly beautiful; the Trinity choir gave a radiant performance of Pärt's 1982 masterwork. And the cathedral, even with the west half sealed off for cleaning, played its usual evocative part. If I had simply closed my eyes, it could have been a prayerful meditation. But alas, I chose to watch the film, which consisted largely of medical footage from the early days of film and no religious or spiritual context.

The object, ostensibly, was "to manifest the neglected or repressed memory of the human race" but the effect was lost on me. We endured image after gruesome image of surgeries, medical experimentation, dead bodies, and naked epileptics having seizures, including one extended closeup of a surgeon slicing into an eyeball that compelled many filmgoers to get up and leave.

The images objectified and dehumanized the subjects in stark contrast to the touching and very human intimacy of the music. The final scene, accompanied by the magnificent coda of Pärt's oratorio, depicted a cesarian section shown in reverse, such that the baby was unborn, inserted back into its mother's womb. This was followed by a veritable cattle stampede as the audience raced to the exits.

Arvo Pärt's music, in its stark, humble beauty, is an increasingly popular material for film scores. The music is often so arresting that it completely overshadows the film. In this case, I only wish that it had.

--Martha Ainsworth