Thought this post was kinda interesting – and the top comment as well. Too much generalization (in the comment) but still interesting.
Thought this post was kinda interesting – and the top comment as well. Too much generalization (in the comment) but still interesting.
My Backstory series offers stories about my upbringing and background. You can find the whole series under the category “Biography,” if you’re interested.
When I was a teenager, I watched Born on the Fourth of July when it finally showed on TV. I doubt my parents would have let me watch it if I’d asked them for permission, but they weren’t around at the time and I thought it was a war film, so I watched it. The story disturbed me deeply for a long time.
I gaped at the screen as the soldiers shot up a Vietnamese village in the haze of war (and bad decisions). I watched as Ron Kovic, the central character, fell apart after the war was over, screaming in rage at his disability and his broken life. We didn’t talk about PTSD in my household. My dad considered the Vietnam vets ‘soft’ – too fragile to handle war like his Korean buddies or World War II relatives had done. I didn’t know how to process Kovic’s protest at the RNC – in my life, Republicans were good guys (though my parents’ relationship with the political parties was a lot more complicated than I realized). It was a provocative film that hit me when I wasn’t at all used to being provoked.
I was raised in a sheltered environment by parents with strongly conservative viewpoints on most issues. B4J challenges the American mythos surrounding war, military service, and veterans even as it plays into the stereotype of Vietnam vets as baby killers and mentally ill.
At the time I had no background or preparation for handling the ideas that I had encountered, whether it was the sex, the language, or the attack on the simplistic view of America as entirely good and right (always on the winning side, always the righteous side). And I didn’t feel like I could really talk to my parents about it, since some of what bothered me so deeply was the content that they would have banned me from seeing in the first place.
So it lodged deeply in my mind and I tried not to think about it, though the ideas would surface occasionally and create an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. It would be decades before I learned enough history to come to grips with how Vietnam altered American consciousness of the late 20th century; how film is its own rhetorical form, demanding assessment and critique and a recognition of the storyteller’s own bias; and how Americans tell ourselves myths about our own heroism to bury our national guilt that we should be feeling about our own nation’s imperialism and oppression.
Kovic reminded me of one of my brothers’ friends, a man whose name I’ve since forgotten, who showed up at our house one day in a black T-shirt, aviator sunglasses, and a cowboy hat. Visitors were rare, so this hard-drinking, hard-smoking man stood out. He was older than my brother by at least a decade or two, and nothing was ever quite right for him after his Vietnam service. My dad closed the door after they left and felt sorry for the guy, hoped he’d find his way eventually. The vet was dead (as I recall) a few months later, the victim of a collision with a semi that sheared off the top of his convertible.
My relationship with America grows complicated as I grow older. A nation is more than the sum of its citizens. I now begin to understand those few places in the Gospels where Jesus talks about evaluating nations (dividing sheep from goats) as if that is a separate process from judging individuals.
I choke up at a booming fireworks display overtop “God Bless the USA” even as I tremble in anger at our callous destruction of Native peoples because our leaders believed God and political power were on the side of our “manifest destiny.” We like to paint ourselves as the hero in every picture, perhaps because America is barely a teenager in nation-years, and we’re too stubborn or arrogant to listen to the older nations around us. My Italian grandfather fled one of those old nations to start anew in America a century ago, where he drank heavily and beat his wife and abused my dad who grew up in abject immigrant poverty. Yet here I am, a college graduate, thanks to the sacrifice of my parents.
With the upstart hubris of a Silicon Valley start-up whiz kid, America blazed forward in the 20th century – and we’re unwilling to admit in the daylight that we might have gotten a head start over the rest of the developed world by not hosting two bloody and destructive world wars on our own soil, as if our own wisdom and not geographical realities had the most to do with it.
I’m proud of my nation and appalled, and those two feelings churn in my stomach – ever more so in 2017, this ridiculous, stupid year. Perhaps I’ll rewatch Born on the Fourth of July this holiday weekend to see if its effect stemmed from my adolescent naiveté or the power of its story. This time around, I know too much about the world to be shocked. I’ll just be sad.
The newest Avengers movie. There’s been banter about how it stacks up to the last one, whether you should go see it. Here are my 5 reasons you should go see Avengers: Age of Ultron.
I don’t expect to see this installment 3 times in the theater like I did with the first Avengers movie, but it’s worth a second watch on the big screen and later on Blu-Ray or Netflix.
And all of us need to drop to our knees and thank the Fates that Joss Whedon got to put his hands on these films. All of the Marvel films have to live up to this standard now of excellent writing, pacing, and dialogue. They’ve got a decade’s worth of stories laid out, so even with the departure of Whedon from the series, I’m hopeful.
Instead of just grousing about how Christians often fail to recognize excellent, biblically normative art when they see it, I’ve got a couple films to recommend to you for February viewing.
I’m pretty sure both of these are rated R. The first is just for a couple uses of the F-word and some mild violence. The second has adult content and I would recommend that parents screen it before showing to kids.
When I first stumbled across the excellent indie film INK on Netflix a few years ago, it punched me in the stomach with Grace, just like a good Flannery O’Connor story.
A band of supernatural beings called Storytellers race to rescue a little girl kidnapped by a bad spirit who’s desperate to make it into his own “league of evil,” while in our world the girl’s father buries his failures under layers of anger, bitterness, and numbness.
The film is inventive, visual, snarky, thoughtful.
Favorite scene: when the blind Pathfinder changes the rhythm of the world so as to “shake the shit out of” the girl’s father, giving him an opportunity to be something better than he is.
If you mixed a Broadway play with a rom-com AND a horror movie, you get LO – a winsome and disturbing and heartwarming story of love in the face of hell. Literally. Justin, a lovable loser, finds his life changed when he meets April …. until demons show up and take her to hell. So he does the most desperate thing he can think of to get her back. It looks like a horror movie mixed with a stage play (and there actually is a stage version) but really … this is a movie all about love.
It’s hilarious. It’s interesting. It’s …. kinda sketchy in places. And it’s one of the best love stories I’ve ever watched. Perfect antidote to all the sappy Valentine’s Day stuff.
Unfortunately, neither INK nor LO are streaming on Netflix right now, but you can rent INK on Amazon Instant Video. Both are available through Netflix DVD or for purchase at the films’ websites.
Edit 1/6/13: The controversy about Django continues to build. Wesley Snipes and Spike Lee have loudly voiced their disapproval for the film and charged Quentin Tarantino with nasty racism. Others, including Samuel L. Jackson and comedians and pundits have defended the film for pushing the conversation about slavery and race to the front of American consciousness.
By the way, I highly recommend that post I linked to “comedians.” Here, let me link it again because you should hear what she’s saying, especially in the second half… And while you’re at it, read this post too.
Samuel L. Jackson has offered several good interviews on his character in Django and the question of slavery in the film. I though his interview with MovieLine was very good.
Tarantino has no qualms about the film or the way he edited the story to make sure audiences can’t escape the brutality of slavery in America. He too has recognized that our societal mistreatment of minorities hasn’t really stopped — just read The New Jim Crow if you’d like sickening statistics to back that up.
Original post: Tarantino’s newest film Django Unchained has been running trailers since the summer, and that’s how long I’ve been waiting with the expectancy and excitement of a school kid about to hit summer vacation. Tarantino has won my heart with his cinematic homages to bygone film styles melded with sizzling screenwriting and incredible acting.
A caveat: this film is bloody. Objectionable. Unapologetic about presenting slavery and oppression in a horrible light, refusing to sugar-coat it under genteel society. But this is far from a history film or social piece. It’s first and foremost a great (albeit violent and bloody) story about love.
If you brave the movie, I think you’ll really appreciate the snappy writing. Q’s scenes spark with fire, serving as both incredible examples of the craft of acting and pushing the story forward while building nuances into the characters. I’m amazed at his directing. How he gets these shades of meaning out of his actors stuns me. No wonder people love being in his movies. I can’t think of a weak link in the entire cast. There had better be Oscar nominations…..
Cinematography is great too, echoing what you might see in classic westerns, except you aren’t tempted to roll your eyes at what would be a gimmick coming from another director.
Tarantino’s use of 1858 as a setting (primarily in Tennessee and Mississippi) hammers home the brutality of slavery in American history. Our sanitized documentary-driven viewpoint of that period can’t do justice to the actual social horror of taking human beings and trying to grind them down into nothing. We ought to be much more angry about it than we are, societally. I think Tarantino wants to make us white folk squirm a bit…. and question.
Back to the story. It’s just….great. That’s what’s totally awesome about this movie. A personal story with difficult moral questions, tension, characters unforgettable. Happily the trailer did not reveal too much about the tale, so you will be pleasantly surprised. If you like Tarantino, you owe it to yourself to see this great film.
Favorite moments: any scene with Samuel L Jackson in it. Also any scene with Leonardo diCaprio, who was phenomenal.
Saw Funny People a couple days ago. Completely different than what I expected, actually. The trailer made it look like a thoughtful comedy about a comedian with cancer. Turned out to be a thoughtful drama about a comedian with cancer.
I’ve not worked with enough people to really say I know the type of person who is purposefully self-destructive as a result of selfishness. I’ve encountered the sentiment occasionally (in myself and others at times), and it’s really frustrating to deal with. But that’s a pretty normal life pattern for many folks. They are unhappy and dissatisfied with themselves and everything about their lives, yet they lack the power to effect any real change. They openly use people around them for their own purposes, manipulating to get what they want and then throwing friendships away when they no longer provide the necessary perks.
Adam Sandler nails that personality type in Funny People. Seth Rogan is the moral, conscientious, lovable awkward friend who tries to keep Sandler’s character from imploding. Fascinating story of an odd yet all-too-realistic friendship between two men. Well, it’s not really a friendship … more of a constant irritation with a relatively happy ending. And the supporting characters add a lot of life to the film.
As for the film, I’m not sure whether I actually recommend it or not. Cons: It’s slow-paced and longer than necessary; very crass; and a little heavy. But the acting is great, and it’s a film that prompts a lot of reflections on dealing with people who, at their core, are nothing but selfish. The plot isn’t predictable either — which I appreciate.
So… not recommending. But have been thinking a lot since seeing Funny People
Into the Wild (recent film, now on DVD) recounts the true story of a young man –Christopher– who headed by himself into the Alaskan wilderness to explore his philosophy that man needs only nature’s honesty to live a fulfilled, enlightened life.
To him, truth is more important than love, than society, than anything (parroting Thoreau).
Many experiences swirled together in his life to strip from him any faith in society: his parents’ constant fighting, their materialism, their hypocrisy. He took his copies of Thoreau and Emerson and London and sold everything else in a search for wisdom. I’ll not say anything else lest I spoil the plot.
I recommend the film for several reasons, including its artistry and theme.
Early in the film, Jack asked us all whether the hippie lifestyle appealed to any of us — carefree abandonment to nature and a life unencumbered by responsibility.
You’d think, coming off a hectic and exhausting school year, my answer would be “heck yes.”
But it’s not.
The more I think about it, the more I find Into the Wild an excellent incarnation of the selfishness that drives us to shirk the incredible effort it takes to overcome the Fall.
Think about it: Why is the hippie lifestyle such a draw?
Because at its core, it’s always easier to walk away from humanity than work to overcome the effects of sin in this world.
Christopher saw the hypocrisy and sin of his parents, but not his own.
He absorbed Thoreau’s Transcendental ideas without heeding the corrective warnings of Jack London. [By the way, his story doesn’t end there … so watch the movie or read the book.]
The transient lifestyle appeals because living in a commune “off the land” means you escape being encumbered. No one can claim your affections or demand your loyalty. This kind of freedom brings no responsibility. But you utterly lose the power to (by God’s hand) bring beauty from ashes.
You forsake the burden of redemption — the messy, painful truth that Grace always costs the giver.
At one point in the movie, I said, “This is sad. If this kid were to die, no one would really care. He’s done nothing that actually lasts.”
Coart replied wisely, “More importantly, if this kid lives, no one will really care because his life won’t matter.”
Our very burdens which weigh down our hearts and make us groan at times under the load (especially those rare moments of clear sight, when we see our sin for what it is or encounter brokenness in its harsh ugliness)– those very burdensome tasks are what make our lives count for something beyond ourselves.
Do you want this world to be different than how you found it?
It will cost you something.
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