C'est tres fade....
I just saw the second National Treasure movie, and I was very--unimpressed. The villain had no clear motive and suffered a very unconvincing change of heart; the protagonists' recklessness brought no consequences; the humor was low-brow; the overall effect overstepped the line between Unrealistic and Unbelievable.
And now for the rebuttal:
The special effects were pretty good, and the one shot when you see Ben in the reflection of the SUV's glass was pretty good, too.
Hm. Fantastic....
The movie was, I suppose, "fun"--just what every stupid American movie-goer wants.
31 December 2007
29 December 2007
Post 64
Well, if I've been on a serial killer kick the past couple days, I'm now on a Teddy Roosevelt Wannabes kick because I just watched Night at the Museum.
It's an okay movie; all-star casts are always fun, and I especially like seeing the likes of Dick Van Dyke and Mickey Rooney. The acting's decent (I don't, as a general rule, like Ben Stiller, but he's actually pretty watchable in this flick); the story's intriguing enough; some of the camera work was admirable, and the special effects were dead-on, but I wasn't satisfied with the ending--what happens to the three old guards? I mean, seriously, do they go to prison, or did he let them go, or did they somehow turn to dust? Where'd they go?
All in all, an alright feel-good sort of movie, but not much for literary quality.
It's an okay movie; all-star casts are always fun, and I especially like seeing the likes of Dick Van Dyke and Mickey Rooney. The acting's decent (I don't, as a general rule, like Ben Stiller, but he's actually pretty watchable in this flick); the story's intriguing enough; some of the camera work was admirable, and the special effects were dead-on, but I wasn't satisfied with the ending--what happens to the three old guards? I mean, seriously, do they go to prison, or did he let them go, or did they somehow turn to dust? Where'd they go?
All in all, an alright feel-good sort of movie, but not much for literary quality.
28 December 2007
Post 63
I just finished watching Arsenic and Old Lace. It appears, then, that I am on a serial killer kick--well, perhaps two serial killer movies in two days doesn't really constitute a kick, but it still seems rather morbid.
I really like Cary Grant, and I really like Frank Capra. I just like old movies in general, really; black and white is where it's at. This isn't my favorite old movie, but I do like it a lot--certainly more than the one I watched yesterday.
As far as witty dialog goes, this movie doesn't nearly match Casablanca or even Charade, but it's still far superior to most modern movies. I really appreciated the "There's No Place Like Home" theme sneaking in a creepy sort of minor key into the musical score when Jonathon and Dr. Einstein showed up and were telling the old ladies they were going to stay. I also liked how Dr. Einstein was talking to Johnny's shadow in the basement as they talked about killing Mortimer.
On the whole, a fine flick; I'd especially recommend it for Halloween parties (the whole story occurs on "a Hallowe'en night" anyway).
I really like Cary Grant, and I really like Frank Capra. I just like old movies in general, really; black and white is where it's at. This isn't my favorite old movie, but I do like it a lot--certainly more than the one I watched yesterday.
As far as witty dialog goes, this movie doesn't nearly match Casablanca or even Charade, but it's still far superior to most modern movies. I really appreciated the "There's No Place Like Home" theme sneaking in a creepy sort of minor key into the musical score when Jonathon and Dr. Einstein showed up and were telling the old ladies they were going to stay. I also liked how Dr. Einstein was talking to Johnny's shadow in the basement as they talked about killing Mortimer.
On the whole, a fine flick; I'd especially recommend it for Halloween parties (the whole story occurs on "a Hallowe'en night" anyway).
27 December 2007
Post 62
Mea culpa....
So, I just got back from seeing Sweeney Todd. This raises a very important moral question--one that has nothing to do with murder or revenge or lying or anger or--or anything remotely related to the movie itself, actually. Sweeney Todd is rated R; I am a Mormon. Good Mormons don't watch R-rated movies; Sweeney Todd is my first.
It was an innocent mistake, really; my ignorance is to blame. It's a stupid story, really, so I shan't relate any details, but basically I thought the title was Swinging Todd and had no idea that it had nothing to do with WWII-era music and dance until I saw the movie poster at the theater.
Yes, I'm a moron. And you read my blog, so maybe you are, too.
Anyway, this post really isn't a movie review, but it also isn't the sort of writing in which the author babbles about his guilt and pleads for the readers' forgiveness; my intent here is to explore the rigidity of morality and the implications thereof.
While I was on my mission, I came up with a catchphrase that became a sort of--eh--the appellation of "battle cry" is entirely too enthusiastic; perhaps "mission statement" would be better--either way, I decided that I wanted to become the sort of person that could honestly be described this way, and I still do; I want people to say of me, "He's straight-laced but not high-strung."
A noble balance to seek, don't you think--being straight-laced without being high-strung--or maybe upright without being uptight? I mean, when I think of my theological role models--heck, when I think of pure Christianity--I just can't get into the Puritanical point of view that advocates such over-the-top piety that rules out all fun.
That said, a quick punch for my relative conservatism: I am appalled by those my age who think that life is all about fun and that fun=happiness, so don't think that that's the direction I'm headed in.
Strictness of morals has been a recurring theme in my ponderings throughout the year 2007, but I've yet to reach a solid conclusion about anything. Lately, I've simply done my best to keep all the commandments that I know and then followed every whim that pops into my head, hoping that my righteous living keeps me close enough to God and far enough from Satan that the former will prevail over the latter in domineering said whims. But that isn't a very stable philosophy to live on; I mean, don't you have to nail down and quantify and qualify morality at some point if you hope to be even remotely consistent? The poet in me says that morals cannot be pigeonholed so neatly, yet my internal philosopher (unschooled, though he may be) cries out that they must be and that the life I'm living dangerously resembles the ever-popular "Do what feels right" sentiment--the Lord of Misrule that has led many like me into riotous living.
Okay. I'm rambling. Let's refocus a bit; come on, little Schmetterling; stay the course, young man!
Music is the main reason that I have scrutinized my morals this year. Since I've returned from my mission (January '07), my musical preferences have gotten progressively harder; whereas in high school, Billy Joel's "Pressure" was too intense for my palette, I now regularly listen to Ozzy and Aerosmith--I even enjoy things like "Flagpole Sitta" by Harvey Danger and occasional Metallica songs. Granted, I'm no hard rocker, and the moral dilemma presented by my choice of music really has nothing to do with how hard a song is; the real question here has to do with profanity and vulgarity (I'll draw a distinction shortly) because a lot of these artists employ them.
Here I wish to make a couple of nearly-arbitrary definitions for two closely related words: profanity and vulgarity. For the sake of this discussion, profanity is cussing, and vulgarity is shady content. So Bon Jovi's "Keep the Faith" is profane without being vulgar; Aerosmith's "Rag Doll" is vulgar without being profane. Good enough? Hope so....
So let me say here that I really have no problem with profanity. Maybe that makes me a bad Mormon, but that's how it stands. I myself am not one to cuss, but I think that even a "bad word" can sometimes be the right word. Jon Bon Jovi taught me this; "Keep the Faith" and "Someday I'll Be Saturday Night" are two very powerful, beautiful songs, I think, and I feel that the profanity in them are more than just fitting but actually beautiful in their own right.
Now, granted, profanity is rarely beautiful; it is, in fact, repulsive most times, and I choose not to cuss because I feel my vocabulary is strong enough to allow me to express myself in other ways. Just watch, oh, say, The Freedom Writer--a movie I like a lot and actually own--and you'll see that someone can cuss a lot without being very good at it. Profanity, to me, is like a bitter herb or a nasty pigment: it ought to be used but sparingly and only when nothing else will do. This is not to say that Freedom Writers would be better without the cussing--it would probably come out sounding sanitized and unconvincing--I'm just saying that in music especially (and perhaps poetry also, though I have no convincing examples there), sometimes bad words are good words.
Vulgarity is much different, and this is where things get rather problematic for me and my morals. On the whole, I am opposed to vulgarity. I don't like things that are dirty, crass, suggestive, raucous--I don't like vulgar things! This is not to say I've never laughed at a dirty joke, but I kinda wish that I could say I haven't. I really--I just--I don't like it, and maybe I'm only mollycoddling myself, but I kinda wish it'd go away!
That said, it isn't as true as I wish it were (honestly, I was only looking to use the word "mollycoddle" or one of its derivatives), but it's pretty close to the truth; I really don't like vulgarity, but I do see its place in art as well as reality. Opposition in all things, right? And in the sanitized life I live, I sometimes thirst for color, for worldly things--not to be worldly, but to--to--to be in the world--yaknow--without being of the world.
Since I'm probably not done referencing it, I'm just gonna put the lyrics to Bon Jovi's "Someday I'll Be Saturday Night" here in their entirety, and then I'll kinda pick 'em apart so you can see what I mean (I'll number the verses for referencing):
Okay, so that isn't their entirety (there's some repetition-to-fade-out kind of stuff at the end that I chopped off), but that's the bulk of it--unedited.
Kay. So. Let's look at this a bit, yeah? Check out that first verse. OHMYPOORVIRGINEARS, he said the S word! Yes. He did. It's vernacular; you got a better suggestion? You really think a kid my age in that circumstance is gonna say something more sanitary than that? Get real! So there is a meager defense of profanity, but that's not really why I included these lyrics.
Check out verses 2 and 3; 2 talks about prostitution and abuse, and the speaker in 3 is suicidal. But here is the important part: it doesn't advocate these things. Orson Scott Card wrote an essay (maybe several, I dunno) about the place of evil in fiction; he said the important part is to portray evil without justifying it, and I feel that this song is a moving example of that. It'd probably be better if you heard it rather than read it, but I hope you can get the idea. Verse 2 tears me apart whenever I hear it; it's so incredibly sad and says so much about the pain of abuse and the sorrow of regret. 3 to me is the most powerful of all, though; I imagine many parents (mine included, perhaps) would be offended by a song that says "I want to blow myself away," but people like that are taking things out of context because here we have some poor youth saying he's tired of life and just wants to kill himself but then give that stirring refrain of hope: maybe tomorrow will be better, so I gotta hold on the best I can. To me, the contrast of feeble hope in the midst of such terrible times is powerful enough to justify the use of profanity and even vulgarity.
That said, I'm still steadfastly against things that advocate vulgarity. For example, Aerosmith's "Rag Doll" is just about the catchiest song I've ever heard, but it's--uh--not really the sort of song that I could recommend to you.
So those are my morals; I think they're pretty good, but I still struggle with them. See, I'm aware of my failings; I know I'm not invulnerable. Earlier this year--back in the spring sometime--I went on a road trip to visit a sister in Flagstaff. Before going, I checked out a bunch of CDs from the library to keep me company while I drove. One was "Devil's Got a New Disguise: The Very Best of Aerosmith." It is because of that CD that I know that I like a lot of Aerosmith's songs; they are a very talented group, and I enjoy their music. I was listening to that CD as I pulled into Flagstaff and had some of those songs ("Rag Doll" included) stuck in my head that whole weekend.
One night while I was there, I had a dream. I don't remember anything about the dream except that it disturbed me when I awoke because someone had cussed in it. I'm okay with cussing being around me, but I don't cherish the thought of it getting inside. As long as I can remember, I've been fed cute little metaphors like "You can't roll in the mud and not get dirty," but I never really thought that such things applied to me because I'm not one to dabble in dirtiness; I just tolerate it.
Now, this isn't to say that I'm afraid that one day I'll wake up and *POOF* I'll be a pottymouth, but I can't help but wonder what the implications are of having dreams I don't approve of.
Anyway, that's the pondering I've been doing this year, and it's raised questions like the following:
So. Sweeney Todd. What is my opinion of The Demon Barber of Fleet Street? Honestly, it's a quality flick. Cinematography, writing, acting, singing--all very fine. The music was amazing. But I would never ever ever ever EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER recommend it to anyone because it is an incredibly demented story.
That said, I've kinda been hungry for catharsis lately; I've been looking for a good tragedy for a few days now. Just last night, I got to thinking about what I said about Cast Away, and I wondered whether I could find an irony more painful than that. And I did. Sweeney Todd has the most painful irony imaginable: a man seeking to avenge his dead wife ends up killing her (I figure that, since I'm not recommending this movie, I may as well ruin the ending for my readers). That's right--turns out she isn't dead at all, and he kills her (not knowing it's her, of course; he finds that out afterward, and then he himself gets killed).
AND CATHARSIS CAME GUSHING OUT OF THE SCREEN!!!!!!
Or something like that....
So, I just got back from seeing Sweeney Todd. This raises a very important moral question--one that has nothing to do with murder or revenge or lying or anger or--or anything remotely related to the movie itself, actually. Sweeney Todd is rated R; I am a Mormon. Good Mormons don't watch R-rated movies; Sweeney Todd is my first.
It was an innocent mistake, really; my ignorance is to blame. It's a stupid story, really, so I shan't relate any details, but basically I thought the title was Swinging Todd and had no idea that it had nothing to do with WWII-era music and dance until I saw the movie poster at the theater.
Yes, I'm a moron. And you read my blog, so maybe you are, too.
Anyway, this post really isn't a movie review, but it also isn't the sort of writing in which the author babbles about his guilt and pleads for the readers' forgiveness; my intent here is to explore the rigidity of morality and the implications thereof.
While I was on my mission, I came up with a catchphrase that became a sort of--eh--the appellation of "battle cry" is entirely too enthusiastic; perhaps "mission statement" would be better--either way, I decided that I wanted to become the sort of person that could honestly be described this way, and I still do; I want people to say of me, "He's straight-laced but not high-strung."
A noble balance to seek, don't you think--being straight-laced without being high-strung--or maybe upright without being uptight? I mean, when I think of my theological role models--heck, when I think of pure Christianity--I just can't get into the Puritanical point of view that advocates such over-the-top piety that rules out all fun.
That said, a quick punch for my relative conservatism: I am appalled by those my age who think that life is all about fun and that fun=happiness, so don't think that that's the direction I'm headed in.
Strictness of morals has been a recurring theme in my ponderings throughout the year 2007, but I've yet to reach a solid conclusion about anything. Lately, I've simply done my best to keep all the commandments that I know and then followed every whim that pops into my head, hoping that my righteous living keeps me close enough to God and far enough from Satan that the former will prevail over the latter in domineering said whims. But that isn't a very stable philosophy to live on; I mean, don't you have to nail down and quantify and qualify morality at some point if you hope to be even remotely consistent? The poet in me says that morals cannot be pigeonholed so neatly, yet my internal philosopher (unschooled, though he may be) cries out that they must be and that the life I'm living dangerously resembles the ever-popular "Do what feels right" sentiment--the Lord of Misrule that has led many like me into riotous living.
Okay. I'm rambling. Let's refocus a bit; come on, little Schmetterling; stay the course, young man!
Music is the main reason that I have scrutinized my morals this year. Since I've returned from my mission (January '07), my musical preferences have gotten progressively harder; whereas in high school, Billy Joel's "Pressure" was too intense for my palette, I now regularly listen to Ozzy and Aerosmith--I even enjoy things like "Flagpole Sitta" by Harvey Danger and occasional Metallica songs. Granted, I'm no hard rocker, and the moral dilemma presented by my choice of music really has nothing to do with how hard a song is; the real question here has to do with profanity and vulgarity (I'll draw a distinction shortly) because a lot of these artists employ them.
Here I wish to make a couple of nearly-arbitrary definitions for two closely related words: profanity and vulgarity. For the sake of this discussion, profanity is cussing, and vulgarity is shady content. So Bon Jovi's "Keep the Faith" is profane without being vulgar; Aerosmith's "Rag Doll" is vulgar without being profane. Good enough? Hope so....
So let me say here that I really have no problem with profanity. Maybe that makes me a bad Mormon, but that's how it stands. I myself am not one to cuss, but I think that even a "bad word" can sometimes be the right word. Jon Bon Jovi taught me this; "Keep the Faith" and "Someday I'll Be Saturday Night" are two very powerful, beautiful songs, I think, and I feel that the profanity in them are more than just fitting but actually beautiful in their own right.
Now, granted, profanity is rarely beautiful; it is, in fact, repulsive most times, and I choose not to cuss because I feel my vocabulary is strong enough to allow me to express myself in other ways. Just watch, oh, say, The Freedom Writer--a movie I like a lot and actually own--and you'll see that someone can cuss a lot without being very good at it. Profanity, to me, is like a bitter herb or a nasty pigment: it ought to be used but sparingly and only when nothing else will do. This is not to say that Freedom Writers would be better without the cussing--it would probably come out sounding sanitized and unconvincing--I'm just saying that in music especially (and perhaps poetry also, though I have no convincing examples there), sometimes bad words are good words.
Vulgarity is much different, and this is where things get rather problematic for me and my morals. On the whole, I am opposed to vulgarity. I don't like things that are dirty, crass, suggestive, raucous--I don't like vulgar things! This is not to say I've never laughed at a dirty joke, but I kinda wish that I could say I haven't. I really--I just--I don't like it, and maybe I'm only mollycoddling myself, but I kinda wish it'd go away!
That said, it isn't as true as I wish it were (honestly, I was only looking to use the word "mollycoddle" or one of its derivatives), but it's pretty close to the truth; I really don't like vulgarity, but I do see its place in art as well as reality. Opposition in all things, right? And in the sanitized life I live, I sometimes thirst for color, for worldly things--not to be worldly, but to--to--to be in the world--yaknow--without being of the world.
Since I'm probably not done referencing it, I'm just gonna put the lyrics to Bon Jovi's "Someday I'll Be Saturday Night" here in their entirety, and then I'll kinda pick 'em apart so you can see what I mean (I'll number the verses for referencing):
Hey, man I'm alive; I'm takin' each day and night at a time.
I'm feelin' like a Monday, but someday Ill be Saturday night.
(1)Hey, my name is Jim; where did I go wrong?
My life's a bargain basement; all the good shit's gone.
I just can't hold a job; where do I belong?
I'm sleeping in my car; my dreams move on.
(2)My name is Billy-Jean; my love is bought and sold.
I'm only sixteen; I feel a hundred years old.
My foster daddy went, took my innocence away;
The street life ain't much better, but at least I'm gettin' paid!
And Tuesday just might go my way;
It cant get worse than yesterday.
Thursdays, Fridays ain't been kind,
But somehow I'll survive.
Hey man I'm alive; I'm takin' each day and night at a time.
Yeah, I'm down, but I know Ill get by.
Hey hey hey hey, man gotta live my life
Like I ain't got nothin' but this roll of the dice;
I'm feelin' like a Monday, but someday I'll be Saturday night.
(3)Now I can't say my name or tell you where I am;
I want to blow myself away--don't know if I can.
I wish that I could be in some other time and place
With someone else's soul, someone else's face!
Oh, Tuesday just might go my way;
It cant get worse than yesterday.
Thursdays, Fridays ain't been kind,
But somehow Ill survive.
Hey, man I'm alive; I'm takin' each day and night at a time.
Yeah, I'm down, but I know I'll get by.
Hey hey hey hey, man gotta live my life!
I'm gonna pick up all the pieces and what's left of my pride.
I'm feelin' like a Monday, but someday I'll be Saturday night.
I'm feelin' like a Monday, but someday Ill be Saturday night.
(1)Hey, my name is Jim; where did I go wrong?
My life's a bargain basement; all the good shit's gone.
I just can't hold a job; where do I belong?
I'm sleeping in my car; my dreams move on.
(2)My name is Billy-Jean; my love is bought and sold.
I'm only sixteen; I feel a hundred years old.
My foster daddy went, took my innocence away;
The street life ain't much better, but at least I'm gettin' paid!
And Tuesday just might go my way;
It cant get worse than yesterday.
Thursdays, Fridays ain't been kind,
But somehow I'll survive.
Hey man I'm alive; I'm takin' each day and night at a time.
Yeah, I'm down, but I know Ill get by.
Hey hey hey hey, man gotta live my life
Like I ain't got nothin' but this roll of the dice;
I'm feelin' like a Monday, but someday I'll be Saturday night.
(3)Now I can't say my name or tell you where I am;
I want to blow myself away--don't know if I can.
I wish that I could be in some other time and place
With someone else's soul, someone else's face!
Oh, Tuesday just might go my way;
It cant get worse than yesterday.
Thursdays, Fridays ain't been kind,
But somehow Ill survive.
Hey, man I'm alive; I'm takin' each day and night at a time.
Yeah, I'm down, but I know I'll get by.
Hey hey hey hey, man gotta live my life!
I'm gonna pick up all the pieces and what's left of my pride.
I'm feelin' like a Monday, but someday I'll be Saturday night.
Okay, so that isn't their entirety (there's some repetition-to-fade-out kind of stuff at the end that I chopped off), but that's the bulk of it--unedited.
Kay. So. Let's look at this a bit, yeah? Check out that first verse. OHMYPOORVIRGINEARS, he said the S word! Yes. He did. It's vernacular; you got a better suggestion? You really think a kid my age in that circumstance is gonna say something more sanitary than that? Get real! So there is a meager defense of profanity, but that's not really why I included these lyrics.
Check out verses 2 and 3; 2 talks about prostitution and abuse, and the speaker in 3 is suicidal. But here is the important part: it doesn't advocate these things. Orson Scott Card wrote an essay (maybe several, I dunno) about the place of evil in fiction; he said the important part is to portray evil without justifying it, and I feel that this song is a moving example of that. It'd probably be better if you heard it rather than read it, but I hope you can get the idea. Verse 2 tears me apart whenever I hear it; it's so incredibly sad and says so much about the pain of abuse and the sorrow of regret. 3 to me is the most powerful of all, though; I imagine many parents (mine included, perhaps) would be offended by a song that says "I want to blow myself away," but people like that are taking things out of context because here we have some poor youth saying he's tired of life and just wants to kill himself but then give that stirring refrain of hope: maybe tomorrow will be better, so I gotta hold on the best I can. To me, the contrast of feeble hope in the midst of such terrible times is powerful enough to justify the use of profanity and even vulgarity.
That said, I'm still steadfastly against things that advocate vulgarity. For example, Aerosmith's "Rag Doll" is just about the catchiest song I've ever heard, but it's--uh--not really the sort of song that I could recommend to you.
So those are my morals; I think they're pretty good, but I still struggle with them. See, I'm aware of my failings; I know I'm not invulnerable. Earlier this year--back in the spring sometime--I went on a road trip to visit a sister in Flagstaff. Before going, I checked out a bunch of CDs from the library to keep me company while I drove. One was "Devil's Got a New Disguise: The Very Best of Aerosmith." It is because of that CD that I know that I like a lot of Aerosmith's songs; they are a very talented group, and I enjoy their music. I was listening to that CD as I pulled into Flagstaff and had some of those songs ("Rag Doll" included) stuck in my head that whole weekend.
One night while I was there, I had a dream. I don't remember anything about the dream except that it disturbed me when I awoke because someone had cussed in it. I'm okay with cussing being around me, but I don't cherish the thought of it getting inside. As long as I can remember, I've been fed cute little metaphors like "You can't roll in the mud and not get dirty," but I never really thought that such things applied to me because I'm not one to dabble in dirtiness; I just tolerate it.
Now, this isn't to say that I'm afraid that one day I'll wake up and *POOF* I'll be a pottymouth, but I can't help but wonder what the implications are of having dreams I don't approve of.
Anyway, that's the pondering I've been doing this year, and it's raised questions like the following:
- How much badness ought I tolerate?
- Does supporting culturally unsanitized art make me an unsanitary person?
- Even though portraying and advocating evil are two very different things, they are sometimes hard to differentiate between; is the line, then, too dangerous to safely play around?
So. Sweeney Todd. What is my opinion of The Demon Barber of Fleet Street? Honestly, it's a quality flick. Cinematography, writing, acting, singing--all very fine. The music was amazing. But I would never ever ever ever EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER recommend it to anyone because it is an incredibly demented story.
That said, I've kinda been hungry for catharsis lately; I've been looking for a good tragedy for a few days now. Just last night, I got to thinking about what I said about Cast Away, and I wondered whether I could find an irony more painful than that. And I did. Sweeney Todd has the most painful irony imaginable: a man seeking to avenge his dead wife ends up killing her (I figure that, since I'm not recommending this movie, I may as well ruin the ending for my readers). That's right--turns out she isn't dead at all, and he kills her (not knowing it's her, of course; he finds that out afterward, and then he himself gets killed).
AND CATHARSIS CAME GUSHING OUT OF THE SCREEN!!!!!!
Or something like that....
25 December 2007
Post 61
Hey, merry Christmas everyone! Quick yuletide thought for you presented in less eloquent terms than it probably deserves:
Despite its pagan roots, to me Christmas is about the most beautifully Christian thing I can think of; really, it's an amazing metaphor. Think about it: Christmas started out as this celebration of the winter solstice but has been transformed into a celebration of the birth of our Savior--the holiday is a convert of sorts. Its trees (which originally had something to do with cultist fertility rites, I'd imagine) and candles and gifts and strange traditions glorifying unsavory things have been totally converted to the ways of Christianity, and each element has had Christian symbolism thrust upon it insomuch that its past of wickedness has been totally forgotten--just like when we repent.
Sure, our Witness friends shout out against holidays started by "ancient, false religions"--a very valid concern, in my mind--but I think that we've all come from "ancient, false" traditions in our own way and are all working toward the truth, and if Christmas can so thoroughly make such a dramatic change, why not us?
Despite its pagan roots, to me Christmas is about the most beautifully Christian thing I can think of; really, it's an amazing metaphor. Think about it: Christmas started out as this celebration of the winter solstice but has been transformed into a celebration of the birth of our Savior--the holiday is a convert of sorts. Its trees (which originally had something to do with cultist fertility rites, I'd imagine) and candles and gifts and strange traditions glorifying unsavory things have been totally converted to the ways of Christianity, and each element has had Christian symbolism thrust upon it insomuch that its past of wickedness has been totally forgotten--just like when we repent.
Sure, our Witness friends shout out against holidays started by "ancient, false religions"--a very valid concern, in my mind--but I think that we've all come from "ancient, false" traditions in our own way and are all working toward the truth, and if Christmas can so thoroughly make such a dramatic change, why not us?
24 December 2007
Post 60
Okay. Not bad.
I watched The Italian Job a couple days ago. I think that since people stopped bugging me to see National Treasure, The Italian Job has been topping the "Dang Kyle, You Need To See That Movie" movie list.
I was pretty impressed with it. I actually have to wonder whether the people who wrote the newest Die Hard flick were inspired by The Italian Job in certain aspect--ya know, the whole taking over the traffic lights and posting messages in control centers bit. The Italian Job was far less--uh--over-the-top, though; I liked it a lot more than I liked Live Free or Die Hard.
I really enjoyed this movie. It may have actually overtaken The Bourne Identity as Most Tolerable Action Flick for me--'course, The Bourne Identity's tolerability has been greatly tarnished by two pretty terrible sequels (kinda the same way that I don't really like Pirates of the Caribbean anymore). The Italian Job is fun, clever, engaging, exciting--really, it's everything an action flick oughta be. I'll recommend it to ya.
I watched The Italian Job a couple days ago. I think that since people stopped bugging me to see National Treasure, The Italian Job has been topping the "Dang Kyle, You Need To See That Movie" movie list.
I was pretty impressed with it. I actually have to wonder whether the people who wrote the newest Die Hard flick were inspired by The Italian Job in certain aspect--ya know, the whole taking over the traffic lights and posting messages in control centers bit. The Italian Job was far less--uh--over-the-top, though; I liked it a lot more than I liked Live Free or Die Hard.
I really enjoyed this movie. It may have actually overtaken The Bourne Identity as Most Tolerable Action Flick for me--'course, The Bourne Identity's tolerability has been greatly tarnished by two pretty terrible sequels (kinda the same way that I don't really like Pirates of the Caribbean anymore). The Italian Job is fun, clever, engaging, exciting--really, it's everything an action flick oughta be. I'll recommend it to ya.
19 December 2007
Post 59
Good news: a movie review that breaks from that 4-point-check rut I've been stuck in!
I just watched Cast Away. I've seen it a couple of times before, but it's been a while. It was on TV, so it was interrupted by an excessive number of commercial breaks, but I still enjoyed it.
So. Let's write a review!
I really like this movie--mostly because it does so many things that go against mainstream Hollywood. That said, I don't think rebellion alone merits appellations of greatness, and Cast Away is far from great, but I still like it okay.
In my mind, Cast Away is not a movie about a man stranded on an island for four years; yes, that's part of the movie, but I don't think it would be fair to say that that's the main conflict. To me, the thing that makes this movie beautiful--and I do think it's a beautiful movie--all of the beauty in the movie happens after Chuck returns from his island.
But let's back up a bit and take the movie chronologically, shall we? We'll divide it into chapters: Pre-island, Island, and Post-island.
CHAPTER 1: PRE-ISLAND
The set-up is great, but there were times I felt like I was watching the bad execution of a fine screenplay--most noticeably on the plane flight from Russia when the one lady asks that guy about his terminally ill wife; the acting was just--not good. I thought the Chuck-Kelly thing worked well, though, and that was the most important part. Just as an unimportant sidenote, I really appreciated that when they kissed in the copy room, they simply kissed for a long time as opposed to attempting to devour one another. Also, I can appreciate the outside-of-the-box thinking that produced such things as package-POV camera angles, but I don't think the idea was really all that great.
CHAPTER 2: ISLAND
Several things make this movie very unique, and most of them are seen on the island. First, after the plane wreck, as he's drifting on his raft, there are long periods of time with naught but sound. That's a stylistic risk that I'm pretty sure turned off a lot of mainstream Americans. Then, on the island, there are many scenes with very little sound. I was struck by how little background music there was during the island scenes--there may not have been any at all, though I'm not sure. Looking back, it seems to me that there wasn't any music on the island at all, though there was some immediately afterward as he was sailing away. Fascinating idea; I'll have to pay better attention next time.
Overall, I think that this portion of the movie was well done. I think it develops well, that the four-year gap is well placed, and that the whole thing just works really well.
CHAPTER 3: POST-ISLAND
This is, as I said, the chapter that makes the movie. To me, the island and everything else is just back story to the drama that surrounds his homecoming. I. Love. The way the Chuck-Kelly thing plays out; I can imagine nothing more poignant and beautiful. It really doesn't matter where he was--he could've been a MIA POW or sold into slavery or abducted by aliens, it doesn't matter; it's the painful inability of two lovers to come together that get the catharsis train tearing up the track, and I love that train! I really can't say enough for the final chapter of this movie; I love everything about it. I think that it's brilliant, and I'm very sad that so many people probably can't get passed the just-another-shipwrecked-movie line of thinking. Taking that line of thought, I have a fairly low opinion of this movie, but by transcending that point of view and looking at the heart of this film to see it for what it is--a film exploring the pains of disappointed love--I find a movie that truly is beautiful.
I just watched Cast Away. I've seen it a couple of times before, but it's been a while. It was on TV, so it was interrupted by an excessive number of commercial breaks, but I still enjoyed it.
So. Let's write a review!
I really like this movie--mostly because it does so many things that go against mainstream Hollywood. That said, I don't think rebellion alone merits appellations of greatness, and Cast Away is far from great, but I still like it okay.
In my mind, Cast Away is not a movie about a man stranded on an island for four years; yes, that's part of the movie, but I don't think it would be fair to say that that's the main conflict. To me, the thing that makes this movie beautiful--and I do think it's a beautiful movie--all of the beauty in the movie happens after Chuck returns from his island.
But let's back up a bit and take the movie chronologically, shall we? We'll divide it into chapters: Pre-island, Island, and Post-island.
CHAPTER 1: PRE-ISLAND
The set-up is great, but there were times I felt like I was watching the bad execution of a fine screenplay--most noticeably on the plane flight from Russia when the one lady asks that guy about his terminally ill wife; the acting was just--not good. I thought the Chuck-Kelly thing worked well, though, and that was the most important part. Just as an unimportant sidenote, I really appreciated that when they kissed in the copy room, they simply kissed for a long time as opposed to attempting to devour one another. Also, I can appreciate the outside-of-the-box thinking that produced such things as package-POV camera angles, but I don't think the idea was really all that great.
CHAPTER 2: ISLAND
Several things make this movie very unique, and most of them are seen on the island. First, after the plane wreck, as he's drifting on his raft, there are long periods of time with naught but sound. That's a stylistic risk that I'm pretty sure turned off a lot of mainstream Americans. Then, on the island, there are many scenes with very little sound. I was struck by how little background music there was during the island scenes--there may not have been any at all, though I'm not sure. Looking back, it seems to me that there wasn't any music on the island at all, though there was some immediately afterward as he was sailing away. Fascinating idea; I'll have to pay better attention next time.
Overall, I think that this portion of the movie was well done. I think it develops well, that the four-year gap is well placed, and that the whole thing just works really well.
CHAPTER 3: POST-ISLAND
This is, as I said, the chapter that makes the movie. To me, the island and everything else is just back story to the drama that surrounds his homecoming. I. Love. The way the Chuck-Kelly thing plays out; I can imagine nothing more poignant and beautiful. It really doesn't matter where he was--he could've been a MIA POW or sold into slavery or abducted by aliens, it doesn't matter; it's the painful inability of two lovers to come together that get the catharsis train tearing up the track, and I love that train! I really can't say enough for the final chapter of this movie; I love everything about it. I think that it's brilliant, and I'm very sad that so many people probably can't get passed the just-another-shipwrecked-movie line of thinking. Taking that line of thought, I have a fairly low opinion of this movie, but by transcending that point of view and looking at the heart of this film to see it for what it is--a film exploring the pains of disappointed love--I find a movie that truly is beautiful.
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