movies

Movies and Writing: Rachel Getting Married

March 3, 2009 By heather 7 Comments

This past weekend, Chris and I saw Rachel Getting Married at the dollar theater.

A note on the dollar theater: The line outside to buy tickets piled to the end of the building. Inside, much discernment was needed to determine where the credit card ticket line ended and where the snack line began. We were like piglets shoving for a tit. The economy, perhaps?

Back to Rachel Getting Married: brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. The characterization, the dialogue, the family relations: brilliant.

Kym returns from rehab in time for her sister Rachel’s wedding. As the weekend progresses, the tensions unfolding, forcing confrontation as the family reveals their anger and hurt.

But through this drama, the movie retains a sense of humor, not in the Jack Black or Jim Carrey sense, but in recognizing the comedy of everyday life.

If you thought the story of the Prodigal Son overdone, you have not yet seen this movie. The characters are tangible, surprising, and yet everything they do is exactly what that character had to do. For example, during the toasts at the rehearsal dinner, Kym raises her glass of seltzer water (just seltzer water, she stresses) and turns the toast into a confession of sorts. If any of you know addicts, you know this is spot on: An addict makes everything about themselves.

The dialogue grabbed you: this is no sparkling witticism, neither is it boring, trite quips. It roots you into the scenes and characters. Small, unnoticable comments are the furniture you sit on everyday, not recognizing when it’s there but noticing the emptiness when it’s gone.

The writing and cinematography (simple, almost home movie style) pulls you into this life. You aren’t watching a movie. You’re present at the wedding. You’re part of the wedding party. You feel the awkwardness of moments. You laugh and cheer in the same way you laugh at the toasts of a friend’s wedding. In ot

Image via Wikipedia

her words, you’re not laughing at the joke on scene, you’re participating with the laughter of friends.

And the acting: kudos to every actor in this movie. These are not Hollywood pretty people, but they’re gorgeous because they are your friends. One expression tells you years of backstory. This combined with the writing made it memorable. You knew everything without anyone having to tell the backstory.

This is how I want to write. I want to create characters in the same way, write dialogue that has to be.

I highly recommend this movie for its understanding of people and family relations. It digs into these characters, and in doing so, digs into you. Brilliant.

Filed Under: dollar theater, movies, Rachel Getting Married, writing

Movies and Theology: Horton Hears a Who

December 15, 2008 By heather 7 Comments

I’ve been doing a lot of cartoons lately. Can you tell I’ve been spending time with my niece?

I have a history with Horton. As a child, I cried every time (literally) my parents read to me Horton Hatches an Egg. Poor Horton. Maize left him with her egg so she could go on vacation. And Horton sat, and he sat, and he sat. It rained, and it snowed. Still, Horton sat. All his friends left for a party. Still, Horton sat. Poor Horton. All alone.

It broke my heart.

"Will you cry?" my parents asked as we all sat down to watch the movie. I stuck my tongue out at them.

At the beginning of the movie, I had a hard time reconciling my image of Horton with the movie’s. In the movie, Horton was more spacey than my expectations, although he was just as kind and giving.

Horton hears a noise coming from a speck that’s been knocked from its flower. He saves the speck from falling in the river and discovers a whole world, Whoville, existing on this speck. He and the mayor begin conversing. They learn that unless the speck (or world, depending on your perspective), will destruct unless it’s put in a stable environment. Horton takes on the task.

(Let me note here that Steve Carell did an excellent job as the voice of the mayor.)

In the meantime, people in both Horton’s and the mayor’s world think they’re crazy. Who are they talking to? You’re talking to a speck? You’re talking to an elephant in the sky? Craziness!

The story revolves around the question(s) of belief. What does it mean to believe? What does it mean to act on that belief? What is the importance of that belief and what happens when you don’t believe? How does that belief (and forgiveness when others treat you poorly for believing) change others?

I love Horton’s motto (one I remember well from Horton Hatches an Egg): I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. An elephant’s faithful one-hundred percent.

And, yes, I cried when Horton stood firm in his belief, roped up and laughed at though he was. What is it about that elephant that draws tears?

Filed Under: belief, faith, Horton Hears a Who, movies, theology

Movies and Theology: Kung Fu Panda

December 3, 2008 By heather 7 Comments

I have to be honest. I went in to the movie expecting to dislike it. I mean, honestly, the fat, untrained, lazy guy saves the day when the dedicated Kung Fu masters can’t?

But I found that wasn’t the story at all. You have a guy–panda, actually–who dreams Kung Fu. He’s in love with all things Kung Fu. He knows everything about it. But he’s never practiced. Then on the day the Dragon Warrior (the most esteemed Kung Fu warrior who’s given the dragon secret scroll), by some fluke, Po the Panda lands in the middle of the circle and is "accidentally" chosen ("there are no accidents").

Despite rejection and discouragement, Po dedicates himself to his new master, Shifu. He works hard, and perceived weaknesses become strengths that save him when others would’ve failed (and did fail).

Here’s why I loved the movie:

The humor–man, this movie’s funny. From beginning to end, you’re laughing.

The theology–God chooses the unexpected. How many times do we see this theme in Scriptures? He chose the younger Jacob instead of the expected Esau. He chose the youngest and smallest brother David rather than the older stronger boys. He chose the widow and foreigner Ruth to demonstrate his unconditional love to Naomi. The list goes on–the prostitute Rahab, the young Mary, the tax collectors Matthew and Zaccheus, the untrained Gideon and his small army (made smaller by the minute!).

Po was certainly unexpected. He’s not the most experienced or trained. And Po rose to the challenge. He dedicated himself to the task. He fought when there was no hope.

So God chooses us. Are we the best or most trained speakers/writers/ministers/evangelists? Yet God chooses to expand his kingdom and demonstrate his love to the world through us. We’re called to a life of dedication and discipline, but it’s his work.

The movie also balances an acceptance for who we are (I would add who God made us uniquely) along with a need for transformation. Po doesn’t want to stay who he is as he is. He wants more. That doesn’t mean he’s no longer Po or that he, as Po, won’t be uniquely used (quite the opposite), but in order to be used, he had to be trained and disciplined (and, as an added note–trained in a unique way).

So it is with us. God uniquely designed us for his work. We must accept that we’re not Tigress or Mantis, but we’re Po. But we must also dedicate ourselves so that he can transform us and fulfill our potential.

I’ll leave you with one final thought: Skadoosh!

Filed Under: Kung Fu Panda, movies, theology

Art and Theology Podcast: An Interview with Dr. Reg Grant, Part 1

November 18, 2008 By heather 7 Comments

In this podcast, I speak with Dr. Reg Grant, professor at Dallas
Theological Seminary, published novelist, actor, and apparently tap-dancer. In this part, Reg shares how two films affected his life (good timing with November’s Artuality on movies!), and we begin our discussion of
the artist’s pursuit of truth.

Dr. Grant taught me about story structure and arc and character development.

This podcast runs four and a half minutes.

Filed Under: aesthetics, art, artists, beauty, Christianity, film, movies, podcast, theology, truth, video blog

Artuality: Bullets Over Broadway

November 5, 2008 By heather 11 Comments

Today’s Artuality day! Our theme this month is movies. How have movies or a movie inspired you artistically or spiritually?

(For more explanation of Artuality, check out this post for more on this month’s theme or this one for the genesis of Artuality.)

For me, there are so many movies I can use to answer this question: how Chocolat inspired joyful living, how Hero portrayed sacrifice, the friendship and resurrection in Steel Magnolias, unconditional love in When Harry Met Sally, creation and creativity in Babette’s Feast, community in Rent, the list goes on.

But today, I want to tell you about a movie I saw last week: Bullets Over Broadway. It’s a Woody Allen movie, and it got me thinking about what it means to be an artist.

Of course, being a Woody Allen movie, part of the greatness lies in laughing at yourself. This movie is about a struggling theater writer who finally gets his big chance to produce a show. Of course, he demands to direct it so that some random director won’t mess it up. Fine, fine. But one thing: since the production’s being funded by the head mafia guy, it has to star his girlfriend. Who can’t act. Heck, she can’t even pronounce most of her words correctly. Oh, the frustrations! The impurity!

As the movie unfolds, we see that the play is really dribble. The story sucks. It doesn’t move. Finally, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer, the mafia hitman who’s been escorting the lovely mafia girlfriend, suggests a change. It’s wonderful! It’s exactly what the play needs! Everyone loves it!

Except, of course, the artist, the playwright.

The movie goes on, and the mafia hitman makes more and more suggestions. The playwright eventually recognizes the hitman’s brilliance and meets with him secretly to improve the play. By the end, the play’s a huge success. But it’s written by the hitman, not the playwright. In fact, the playwright, it turns out, isn’t an artist at all. And the hitman is. As the hitman’s artistry emerges, he can’t take the un-acting of the mafia girlfriend. So he kills her. And when he’s shot by the mafia don, his last words are about his play.

All nonsensical. Yet all true somehow. In the beginning of the movie, another playwright asks, if you’re in a burning building and you can either save a human or the last existing copies of Shakespeare’s plays, which would you choose? The rest of the movie answers this question. The main character (played by John Cusack) asks his girlfriend, do you love me as a man or as an artist? And he has to explore that question.

In some ways, it asks the same questions that Asher Lev asks: do artists have rights that other humans don’t? Are they ultimately responsible to humans or to art? What does it mean to be an artist?

These questions have to do with the spiritual formation of an artist. How do we love artists as the church? In what ways do we hold them accountable both as artists and as humans? As an artist, how do I balance a demand for excellence with loving my neighbor as myself? Obviously, I’m not going to knock off someone when they get in the way of my art, but if my attitude toward them is disparaging, isn’t it the same thing? What is the posture of an artist?

Also, in this movie, art comes from unexpected places. Who would’ve thunk that a mafia hitman who didn’t finish high school would be a brilliant playwright? Who would’ve thunk that the playwright wasn’t an artist at all? I love this part. You never know where God’ll plant beauty. In that way, it shares a theme with Amadeus.

You’re turn! Tell me on your blog about the movies that have influenced you then come back and let me know you’ve posted your entry. Oh, and when you use Mr. Linky, please leave a comment so I know a new link was left. Feel free to participate throughout the month of November whenever inspiration or epiphanies or apostraphes hit.

Filed Under: aesthetics, art, artists, artuality, Bullets Over Broadway, movies, spiritual formation, spirituality, theology, Woody Allen

November's Artuality and Glimpses

November 2, 2008 By heather 2 Comments

November’s Artuality will be up on Wednesday. Art has been a shaping force in my life. Through art, I encounter God,
am challenged to think in new ways, and see new perspectives. Art
influences my spirituality, my art, and my life.
Because of this, I started Artuality, a monthly festival celebrating how art shapes us.

This month’s theme is movies. On your blog, tell us about how movies or a movie influenced you artistically or spiritually. Remember, this can be anything from home videos to Oscar-winning flicks.

I’ll have my post up along with Mr. Linky on Wednesday.

For more information about Artuality (along with a short video about the impetus of the festival), see this post.

November’s Glimpses features an interview with David Taylor, former arts pastor at Hope Chapel in Austin, about how he got into the biz of arts pastoring. There will also be a flash fiction piece by yours truly along with some thoughts about implementing arts in your local church.

If you don’t already subscribe to Glimpses, you can do so using the nifty form just to your right (yes, I had to do the "L" thing to determine my right from my left–the thing is, both L’s look correct to me!).

Filed Under: art, artuality, David Taylor, Glimpses, movies, short stories

Movies, Writing, and Theology: Burn After Reading and Snow Angels

October 9, 2008 By heather 5 Comments

Burn After Reading: I realize this got mixed reviews at best, but I liked this film. I laughed out loud. Some say it’s making fun for the sake of making fun. There are no sympathetic characters. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.*

Well I say phooey on them.

There’s one sympathetic character, although, yes, maybe he’s a bit delusional and crazy. And another who plays a minor role.

And there’s a slew of half-sympathetic characters.

But here’s what I loved: It’s as if the Coen Brothers are saying (and forgive me for putting words in their mouths, especially if they don’t like the taste of them), "Here’s what would more likely happen if some idiots happen to really stumble upon what they think might be classified information. It’s not cool and exciting. There aren’t amazing car chases. So let’s clean up our writing, shall we?

Oh, and why is there so much running (and runners) in these spy/CIA movies?

Also, Russia? Why Russia? You do realize the Cold War’s over, right?"

That’s what I think the Coen Brothers are saying.

Best line: "Get back to me, I don’t know, when something makes sense." Loved that line.

There are shocking scenes. I didn’t expect a couple of things to happen.

And kudos to Brad Pitt for playing an idiot so well.

Writing application: stop relying on formulas. Especially when the formulas are stupid. (Which leads nicely to the next movie.)

Snow Angels: This is a beautiful film. It’s about relationships, some beginning, some ending. Some succeeding, some falling apart. It’s about humanity: the moments of ugliness and beauty that make up man. Betrayal and loyalty. There’s one particular character who displays such beauty that admist this raw pain and ugliness, she shines, and I think, I want to act like her. I want to be that loyal. I want to reach out even when I’ve been hurt that much.

And it’s about how everything’s connected. The beginning scene shows a marching band director frustrated with his band (and boy, did they nail this guy). Look to your right, he says. Look to your left. Each one of you is important and connected. This doesn’t work unless we’re all moving together. Or something to that affect. And then the movie plays out that very idea.

Earlier, I mentioned formulas and how this movie relates to it. Let me ‘splain. You see, I learned a lot from Joseph Campbell. I went as far as to say that I think he’s right (not Freudian right but story-wise right). You can see this general structure or form in every story, I said.

Mark Bertrand begged to differ. Campbell is the bane of Bertrand’s existence, he said. It’s a formula, he argued, and too many people follow it straight out.

Let me interrupt and say I don’t think it’s something to follow point by point. In fact, I’ve never used it as a writer. I’ve used it as a reader (and movie-watcher), which, yes, influences my writing. But I never approached it as a check-list for plotting.

In fact, plotting gives me hives. It works for some but not me.

To make a long story short (too late!), this movie made me rethink the whole is-Campbell-right assertion. Could I fit Campbell’s hero structure into this movie? Yes, but, as Bertrand asserted, it might be stretching the form too the point of meaninglessness. So at this point I’ll say, Campbell’s hero structure applies to probably most stories, and aspects of it (including archtypes) probably apply to all stories, but it just may be the case that the hero structure as a whole may not apply to all stories. I think it’s still a good and helpful thing to learn. (And I still believe the American Myth is a correlation of rather than movement against Campbell’s myth.) And I still believe his research often applies to our lives, especially our lives as stories and journeys. But there may be alternative shapes and forms.

I think. Then again, it does fit in Snow Angels, even if loosely.

What do you guys think about Campbell and the hero structure and archtypes?

*Note: a lot of the f-word in Burn After Reading and one embarrassing scene.

Filed Under: Burn After Reading, Coen Brothers, movies, Snow Angels, theology, writing

5 Minutes for Books

September 4, 2008 By heather 1 Comment

I’m guest blogging today over at 5 Minutes for Books. Every Thursday they have Books on Screen. Today, I’m talking about Little Women. And, well, Little Women. If you’re a fan of either the book or the movie (I reference the version with Susan Saradon, Winona Ryder, Christian Bale, Claire Danes, Kirsten Dunst, and Gabriel Byrne), hop on over.

Filed Under: 5 Minutes for Books, books, Little Women, movies

Movies and Theology–Mongol

August 14, 2008 By heather 8 Comments

Mongol is an epic film about Genghis Khan’s rise to power. It’s full of magic realism (or supernatural elements), beautiful landscapes, and subtlety. The subtlety of the acting, the musical score, and the battle scenes not only gave a beauty to the story, but allowed me to approach the film openly (both emotionally and intellectually) knowing I was not being manipulated.

The music is breathtaking. It follows the landscape of Mongol–the desert, the mountains, the great expanses.

Filmmaker Sergei Bordov gave a multifaceted portrait of Genghis Khan, a man hunted as a child and enslaved as an adult. This movie depicts a man whose leadership arose not from selfish ambition but to unite the Mongolians because they had become morally corrupt. Genghis Khan is visionary, driven, and even merciful in this movie. He fights hard (and sometimes harshly) for a Mongolia that honors their leadership and protects rather than harms women and children, and he conquers easily.

Borste, Temudgin’s wife, is a strong woman who does not fail her husband, even when she’s not expected to wait for him. In fact, without her advice, strength, and support, Temudgin would not have become Genghis Khan. She’s willing to sacrifice herself, not in a mousy submission, but as a true partner, for a greater vision and love.

What interests me most about this movie is the faith element. This is where the magic realism comes in. The movie makes it clear that Temudgin (Genghis Khan) had been chosen by God, and because of this, God supernaturally saved him when Temudgin could not have saved himself. The film makes no attempt at a logical explanation. In fact, it emphasizes the supernatural of the legend, not with fireworks, but with simple, straightforward storytelling. Genghis Khan’s rise to power is directly connected with his faith. The movie presents both the mystery of this faith as well as the conundrum. Once, while Temudgin was in prison (becoming famous for his perserverence), a Buddhist priest visited him and asked what he could do for him so that when Temudgin became powerful, he’d remember the Buddhists and not destroy their sanctuary. Temudgin asked him to kill the guard. The Buddhist refused. His faith would not allow him to do that, he said. Temudgin responded, "Mine does." Temudgin’s faith allows him to kill and wage war in order to bring unity and law (in order to protect others, in other words). This is an age-old question of faith, one that Christians have struggled with. (The Buddhist did serve Temudgin in another way, showing that though he didn’t agree with Temudgin’s ways, he agreed with his vision.)

God is presented as someone to be feared. He’s represented by a wolf on the sacred mountain. The Mongols are afraid of this all-powerful God. His wrath is in the lightening and thunder, and they cower in storms. Genghis does not. When another leader asked him about this, Genghis answered that there was no where to hide. His recognition of sovereignty of God and his dependence on him allowed him to face God’s wrath without fear. This picture does not belittle God’s power (or even his wrath), but shows how faith recognizes the nature of God, the limitations of man, and the dependence of man on God. It shows how that dependence takes away fear.

Mongol is the first of a trilogy. I look forward to seeing the next movie.

Filed Under: Mongol, movies, theology

Movies and Theology–The Dark Knight

July 21, 2008 By heather 13 Comments

Wow.

I mean, wow.

It’s dark (um, hence the name?). It follows the tradition of trilogies in the second movie being darker. But I think these interpretations of Batman (meaning Batman Begins and The Dark Knight) are darker. And I think that makes them better. They dig deeper. To be honest, I was never a fan of Batman before Christian Bale and the Nolan Brothers. Bale and the Nolan Brothers have redeemed the Batman story for me. (In fact, seeing Christian Bale’s in the new Terminator movie–a set of movies that I could take or leave–I wonder if he’ll even redeem Terminator for me.)

In The Dark Knight, Batman matures. He’s faced with the question of what it means to be Gotham’s hero and is he willing to do that. Bruce Wayne grapples with his limits and Batman’s limits. What’s interesting is that the Joker presents this question for bad and Gordon presents this question for good. Neither times is the answer appealing, and this is Batman’s struggle.

On to the Joker. Can I say wow again? Heath Ledger did an amazing job and fully deserves a posthumous Oscar for this role. I have to admit, the first time Heath appeared on screen, it was sad. I felt hurt for this man and his family. Ledger dives into this role of a man who delights in evil not because of what he gets out of it but purely because of what he strips from others. He is chaos. He brings people to their lowest possible place. He pushes them. He wants to see the corruptness in them explode.

This is one of the best portraits of Satan I’ve seen.

There were surprises in this movie, things I didn’t expect but realized there was no other way. It’s how it had to be. The movie weakened in the end a bit but remained overall strong and amazing.

It raised some interesting questions (there are spoilers from this point forward):

What is nature of being human?

There is a corruptness yet a presence of good (what I call the Imago Dei). What’s more, this Imago Dei finds itself in unexpected sources (i.e. the prisoner), and the best of humanity (i.e. Harvey Dent) can be corrupted to he point of no return (or, as the movie foreshadowed in the beginning, he lived long enough to become a villian). The choices we make every day contribute to one side or the other. Will we fight in a way that is good or will we allow the circumstances in our lives, the evil surrounding us, to influence us and fight back in a way that is corrupt.

(Side note: like the first movie, this movie continues the thread, "Is it okay to fight injustice with unjust ways?")

What is the nature of Satan?

He is the chaos creator. His goal is to bring out the worst in people, to turn them against good (i.e. pure good = God), to watch the world burn (as Alfred put it). He desires to draw out the corrupt nature in humanity. He is deceiver (note that the Joker’s stories about his scars are all lies; he lies to the mafia to get them to do what he wants; he lies to Batman).

What does it mean to be a hero?

(And stop singing, "I need a hero!") At the core of this is Gordon’s statement that Batman isn’t who the people want but who they need.

Batman as a Christ-figure: he took on our afflictions. What does it mean when the movie claims that we need more than truth? Do I agree with this or not? On the one hand, Christ is the Truth, and how can we need more than that? But let me argue something: what is truth other than we deserve to die and Christ did not? Yet we got more. We got mercy and truth. We got mercy becoming truth.

Batman as a model for us: we can’t seek to be popular or trendy. We must seek to give what people need. I mean this in all its forms. We are Christ’s body, his physical presence in the world. Through us, Christ transforms culture and redeems humans. As heroes, then, doing what is needed but not wanted includes evangelising, shepherding, living creatively, creating art that does not follow trends but transforms culture. Does this mean that we may do what is unpopular in the world’s eyes and in the eyes of fellow Christians?

There’s also the "white knight" approach of Harvey Dent. Which is needed? How do we fight injustice? Are both Batman and the Harvey Dent type appropriate and can they work together?

What is the nature and object of faith?

Here’s where I had a problem with the movie’s theology. In order to keep the people’s faith and hope (for all of you with George Michael now singing in your heads, I’ll give you a moment…), Gordon and Batman choose to present a false Harvey Dent (or a limited, one-sided, pre-two-faced Harvey at best). They choose to hide his "ugly side." This, at its core, is a false hope. It hides the ugly nature of humanity in favor of its good side only. It’s an unreal optimism. And it denies the need of an outside Redeemer because of corruptness in the Imago Dei.

On the other hand–the object of faith is good. While the movie argues that this good is in humanity (and to a certain extent I believe there is good in humanity because of the Imago Dei), it also shows that Batman (an outside Redeemer–and yet one of them), is needed if Gotham is ultimately to be saved. I believe that ultimate good is in God and that a salvific faith comes from him alone.

To me, this movie ended at Good Friday. I look forward to the Resurrection in the third movie.

Updated: You can find other reviews at Christianity Today, C. Orthodoxy, Looking Closer, and Filmchat.

Filed Under: Batman, movies, The Dark Knight, theology