Jan 132013
 

                I have written before about my extensive history with Les Miserables.  It was The theater geek musical of my high school years, leading me to a pretty intimate knowledge of the sweeping musical’s ins and outs, its triumphs and- looking at it now from a more mature perspective- its failures.  Needless to say, my breath became baited the moment I first saw the trailer for the long-awaited film version.

                 Quite frankly, I don’t believe it deserves a nomination for Best Picture.  It was good.  There were some wonderful performances and a few brilliantly poignant moments, but there is more to a Best Picture than acting and moments, especially when the script is handed to you as a proven success.  Overall, despite all that was right about the movie, there were too many times when director Tom Hooper simply didn’t take advantage of the wonderful opportunities the medium of film offers over the limitations of the stage, and he seemed to have lost all of his creative juices in the process.

 

 

                If you are unfamiliar with this musical adaptation of the massive Victor Hugo novel, it’s a story of faith and redemption that questions the idea of shallow, sharp distinctions between good and evil.  The good guy, Jean Valjean (Hugh Jackman), is an ex-con and a parole breaker who spends the entire musical running from the law.  The “bad guy” is Javert (Russell Crowe), an incorruptible police officer who dedicates his life to capturing Valjean, despite the convict’s demonstrable embrace of all things good.

                  If nothing else, this central storyline should appeal to a Pagan audience.  While the story is told through the filter of Catholicism, it clearly questions what truly qualifies as good and evil and advocates a view that coincides with the Law of Polarity: nothing is black and white; everything is grey.  Sometimes breaking the rules is the right thing to do.

                Of course, there is a lot more to Les Miz than that.  For social activists, there is the story of the downtrodden rising up against their oppressors. This storyline hits hard on the dynamics of youth and their elders, questioning idealism in favor of the moderated wisdom of experience.  For romantics, there is a classic love triangle subplot that forces young Marius to choose between a friend and a lover, his passion for his cause and his dreams for his future.  Yet all of these plots seem to be rivers contributing to the overall “Is there such a thing as good or evil?” theme, which is a note that often resonates within the Pagan community.

                So there is a lot to like here.  Hugh Jackman fully deserves his nomination for Best Actor.  Valjean is a role of extensive range; it requires a huge vocal range and a vast transition of character as the character transforms from prisoner to businessman to father to sick old man.  We all knew Jackman could sing, but this role takes a special voice, and he has it. 

                Anne Hathaway’s nomination is also richly deserved.  The role of Fantine doesn’t have as much range as that of Valjean, but she does sing one the show’s most popular numbers, “I Dreamed a Dream,” and her descent into destruction needs to be honest and believably complete.  Hathaway does a wonderful job in this key role.

 

                 There are other spot-on performances. The somewhat infamous Sacha Baron Cohen was a brilliant choice for the thieving innkeeper Thernardier, and Helena Bonham Carter is the perfect match as his wife.  This couple represents the movie’s much-needed comic relief.  Unfortunately, some of their best shtick is directed out of the film, but what the duo is allowed hits the right combination of creepy and hilarious.  Daniel Huttlestone is an adorably feisty little Gavroche.

                But then there was what was wrong with the film.  Let’s start with Russell Crowe.  The man can act, and he looks great in his beautiful costumes as Javert moves up in rank over the years, but anyone with ears knows that he was not the right choice.  His voice just isn’t up the demands of the music.  This becomes clear in his first solo, “Stars.”  The song ends with a long, emphatic note that, when properly sung, can send chills down your spine.  Crowe’s rendition ends with a soft whimper, so much so that the scene just fades away, not even allowing him to finish the note.  This pattern remains for each of his big endings, and each becomes an unsatisfying small ending. 

 

                 There is so much you can do in a movie that you can’t do on stage.  Camera angles can change, flashbacks can help tell the story, scenery can strike our heart and help us understand the setting.  And Tom Hooper chose to take advantage of virtually none of that.  Almost every solo is an extended extreme close up on the actor.  We spend the entire song staring at the details of the actor’s/actress’ face when there is so much more a filmmaker could do with his medium.  There is a sweet genuineness to the extreme honesty on each singer’s face, but it’s just too much.  I’m much more well acquainted with the inside of Hugh Jackman’s mouth than I ever wanted to be.

                The final sequence was a wonderful piece of filmmaking that had everything that these missed moments didn’t have.  More of that, and I would be rooting for the movie to win.

 

                 One of the biggest advantages of Les Miz is the orchestra.  Normally, the music is loud.  It serves as just as much of a character as anyone on the stage.  The rousing opening jolts you into sudden awareness, and from that point on the orchestra is ever present.  However, in the film the music is so soft we barely notice it. The same opening that almost knocks you off your seat in the stage version is quiet and understated in the movie, and it never really rises to its full potential.  That was a distinct waste of a good storytelling resource.

 

                 There are a lot of Oscar nominations that Les Miserables deserves.  Costumes: Yes.  Jackman and Hathaway: Yes.  Makeup: Maybe. I liked the movie. I just don’t think that, taken as a whole, it fits as an overall example of excellent filmmaking. 

 

Apr 012012
 

Like most of the rest of the country, I saw The Hunger Games last weekend.  I was a late convert to the phenomenon that is The Hunger Games.  I’m pretty picky about what I choose to read, and I have automatic suspicion against anything with such amazing success.  It took me four books to start in on Harry Potter, and I have yet to crack a copy of Twilight. After enough praises from both teens and adults, I finally read The Hunger Games last fall.

Despite some of its bash-you-over-the-head-with-its-message style, I found the book to be compelling.  Against my will, I found myself sucked into Katniss’ terrible predicament and, although I found the writing to be clumsy, I was totally hooked.  So when the movie came out, I had to see how they handled this painful story.  Could they refine a story which takes place so much within the protagonist’s head while keeping the savagery and suspense that made the book so guiltily enticing?

For the most part, yes.  The movie version uses the trope of having announcers narrate the games to full advantage, taking much of Katniss’ inner turmoil and decision making, along with much of the basic exposition, and placing it into the mouths of the games’ pitchmen. This technique can be extremely artificial at times, like when the narrators break in to tell you all about how deadly tracker jackers are, it generally works.

Unfortunately, some background elements about Katniss’ life in District 12 are glossed over, but I enjoyed how the movie emphasized the pre-games sequence in the Capitol.  I expected a very Hollywood-like rush through the backstory and straight into the blood and guts, but the film actually takes time to set up a love and respect for Katniss, her partner Peeta, and a full understanding of the games, the other challengers, and the sensationalistic shallowness of the Capitol’s citizens. It may be dystopia, but the satire is loud and clear: these people aren’t so much different from us.

The time and attention paid to this element of the worldbuilding adds to the emotional element once the games finally start.  By the time the competition is underway, audiences truly care about Katniss, but also about Peeta.  Add to that the true affection we all develop for Rue and the ever-present knowledge that all but one of these people you love must die, and you have the makings of a story that keeps you riveted until the final moments.

It’s a good movie, whether you read the book or not.

This morning, I came across this commentary of the movie on Patheos.  It’s a very good analysis from a Christian perspective.  Indeed, the movie does stress how the expectations of others can change you; how extreme circumstances can change you; how violence against another human can change you.  Peeta, in particular, is quite clear about his desire to escape unchanged and show the Capitol that they don’t own his soul.

From a Pagan perspective, what I see is sovereignty and honor.  There is so much pressure on these kids to give in to the bloodlust that is the Hunger Games.  Some, especially the “Careers” from Districts 1 and 2, completely give over their lives to the Capitol, allowing themselves to be sacrificed and changing into absolute monsters in the name of someone else’s political goals.  The most obvious example of this is Kato, a Career player from District 1, who saunters through the games showing off his prowess.  He sees himself as in control, but finally realizes that his entire life has been controlled by others – for their own interests – and that his own personal will has been completely annihilated, despite his prodigious strength.  Controlled by others his whole life, Kato learns that being strong is more than just the ability to snap a neck at will.  Leadership is not about physical strength.

In contrast, many of the less physically able players learn to exercise their own sovereignty.  They take charge of themselves rather than bullying others.  Obviously, they don’t all succeed, but they die with integrity where the others die in shame.  No spoilers here, but Katniss’ ability to remain her own person ultimately becomes her greatest strength.

Honor is a strong value within many Pagan traditions, and honor is valued in The Hunger Games.  Related to sovereignty, it is those characters who maintain their self-awareness and control who are able to act with honor.  Kato and his band of bullies give in to the game, and so their actions become more and more cruel and reprehensible.

Katniss helps her enemies throughout the game.  She feeds Rue.  She nurses Peeta back to health.  Yes, she kills, but- unlike some of her competitors- she never does so with sheer cruelty in her mind.  She kills in order to not be killed.  She honors the dead.  It is that demonstration of honor that earns her great respect in the book and ultimately gets her significantly further in the game.  Unfortunately, this is a part that was glossed over in the film, but one can still feel that her ability to control herself and act with dignity under the most difficult of circumstances is a lesson unto itself.

Early on, Katniss’ and Peeta’s sponsor Haymitch tells them that the way to survive games is to get people to like you.  This is one of the take-away lessons from The Hunger Games. True respect comes from acting with honor and with control rather than giving into the system and relying on your brute force to overcome any situation.  Sometimes bloodshed is inevitable, but the true measure of a person is if they can deal with the pain, maintain their self-control, and come out worthy of respect.

 

 

Feb 092012
 

Moneyball is the story of how one man took a failing baseball team, radically altered the way players were selected, rocked the foundation of Major League Baseball…and then continued to fail.

If you’re not baseball literate, the Moneyball philosophy claims to help poverty-stricken teams compete with their wealthy competitors.  The essence is that instead of hiring big-time, expensive players you focus more on low-paid but productive players.  Where a highly paid slugger can get you lots of home runs but strike out a lot, a team full of very productive players will be a very productive team.

So instead of bowing down to superstars, Moneyball teams kneel at the altar of statistics.  Baseball has always employed the batting average and the Earned Run Average (ERA) to analyze players, but Moneyball teams staff their roster by relying on more obscure statistics like the On Base Percentage (OBP) and Walks plus Hits divided by Innings Pitched (WHIP).  In Moneyball, a day at the ballpark becomes an occasion for laptops and spreadsheets instead of peanuts and Cracker Jack.

Oscar-nominated Brad Pitt does a wonderful job playing Billy Beane, the harried general manager of the desperate Oakland A’s.  Faced with a formerly successful team that has been decimated, Beane embraces a new approach in the face of everything his mentors and the fans expect of him.  He takes a ton of criticism, but- at least in that first season (2002)- he was able to reach the first round of the playoffs with a payroll that was millions of dollars less than that of the other competitive teams.

The film is good.  It is full of witty dialogue, as one would expect from any project involving Aaron Sorkin.  It does its best to make complicated baseball terminology accessible to the average viewer.  Pitt immerses himself in the role of Billy Beane.  Jonah Hill, nominated for Best Supporting Actor, is perfectly nerdy and just aggressively intellectual enough as Peter Brand, Beane’s statistical guru.  The human story of Beane trying to maintain his career and family is nice.  Instead of the overplayed workaholic-dad-trying-to-connect-with-his-estranged-child trope, Beane is genuinely affectionate with his daughter, who clearly loves him back.  It’s a satisfying layer to a film that is basically about statistics.

Pagans, even those who have no interest in baseball, should be able to appreciate the radical thinking and action that Billy Beane took.  He looked at a system that was getting him nowhere, sought a different solution, found one, and dedicated himself to the new path.  Beane’s willingness to think differently strikes at the heart of what many of us are about: remove the old, tired ways of doing things and set out on your own, fresh, exciting path.  Beane endured ridicule for his choices, but what he chose was the best path for himself and his team at the time.  I think most of us can appreciate that.

That said, the Moneyball philosophy has never worked.  Sure, the A’s got farther than they would have that first year, but the league wasn’t prepared for that kind of thinking yet.  The A’s lost in the first round, and the World Series was won by my Anaheim Angels that year.  The Angels also subscribed to a different philosophy, but they weren’t Moneyball.  Our announcers called them “smallball.”

The end of the film suggests that the Boston Red Sox won the World Series in 2004 after “embracing” the Moneyball philosophy.  That is not completely honest.  The Red Sox had several big-name, big-check players that year along with some excellent fielders- all of that is against the Moneyball philosophy.  One cannot employ expensive names like Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz, base stealer and excellent outfielder Johnny Damon, and future Hall of Fame pitchers Pedro Martinez and Curt Schilling and call themselves Moneyball.  Damon, in fact, is specifically mentioned in the film as a non-Moneyball player.  Boston’s payroll is consistently one of the largest in the league.  The Sox utilized the philosophy in part; they did rely heavily on statistical measures. But the movie’s suggestion that Boston was pure Moneyball is, in my opinion, false.

Moneyball is a baseball film.  Really, it’s a baseball geek film.  It’s not The Natural or A League of Their Own, stories that allow you to root for likable, if rough-edged heroes against the background of America’s pastime.  You don’t really need much knowledge about the sport to enjoy most films about it.  This one, though, will probably leave most audiences who don’t follow the sport cross-eyed.

It’s also a maverick story, and that’s probably the place where it can reach the heart of most Pagans.  We tend to like people who buck the orthodoxy.  I think there’s a little part of all of us that fells for the person who challenges the status quo. In that sense, maybe we Pagans are all a little Moneyball.

Feb 082012
 

 

My wife’s father died very suddenly.  We were on vacation at the time, trying to get cozy in a quaint little cabin in the Rocky Mountains.  We had known for a few days that he was sick, and on that last night – our first anniversary- he told us to keep traveling because we would need the rest to come back and help him fight.

He didn’t survive the night.  We got the call in the very early morning and immediately began our mad dash across the mountains, through the painted Utah desert, and back to southern California to help the family prepare for the funeral.  At one point, as we were barreling at dangerous speeds somewhere near the Continental Divide, we got hit with a sudden, freak rainstorm.  Now, that type of thing happens a lot in Colorado, and, indeed, all across the Midwest.  But when we looked up, the sky was completely clear and blue.  There was not a single cloud anywhere near us.

The storm went away almost as quickly as it had come.  We didn’t have time to seek for a logical explanation, but she emphatically stated that it was her dad telling her, “Slow down: the family needs you to arrive safely more than they need you quickly.  Enjoy at least some of the beautiful scenery around you.”  It’s the kind of thing he would have said.

Was it really her dad speaking to her from beyond the veil?  I don’t know.  We weren’t even Pagans then.  What I do know is that it made her feel better.  It comforted her.  That’s all that really mattered.

The Oscar-nominated film Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close sensitively depicts a similar situation.  Nine-year old Oskar Schell’s (Thomas Horn) father, Thomas (Tom Hanks) is one of the thousands of victims of 9/11.  Incredibly attached to his father, young Oskar is left without a rudder.  He is fearful, angry, vulnerable, and obsessed with the six tragic phone messages left by his father as the building burned toward destruction.

The one thing he has to keep his father’s memory alive is a treasure hunt.  Before his death, Thomas used to challenge his son with treasure hunts around Manhattan.  Oskar would eagerly dissect the island and search for the answer.  When Oskar finds a mysterious key in his dad’s belongings, coupled with strange messages his father circled in the newspaper the night before he died, the hunt is on.  Oskar sees this as a new challenge: find the lock that fits the key and, in the process, find out what his dad wanted him to know.  And keep the memory alive just a little bit longer.

Was the key placed intentionally?  Was Thomas Schell really sending messages to his son from beyond the grave?  I’m not going to spoil that.  What matters is that it gave the child a direction.  It gave him the chance to spend his time and energy connecting with his father and doing something he loved, healing some of his wounds in the process.  It’s not an easy journey; few healing journeys are.  If healing happens, it doesn’t matter whether his dad was talking to him.

My wife continues to receive messages from her father.  Not long ago, she listened to a podcast hosted by Spiritman Joseph Tittel in which the host said that pennies left on the ground are messages from beyond.  Since then, she has found pennies galore.  I’m not just talking about the odd penny we all find here and there.  Like the unexplainable rain, she finds them in the strangest places.  She’ll turn her head for a second, turn back and find a penny lying there.  Once, she got into the driver’s seat in our car, and entire pocketful of change was spewed over the ground.  As the last person to drive the car that day, I can verify that those pennies were not there before.

One time, we were at a play and got up for intermission.  When we returned, and entire army of pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters were on the ground right in front of her seat.  We asked the people in front of us, but they didn’t think the coins were theirs.   She believes these random coins are messages from her father.  They seem to occur right when she needs them to. As a witness to the physical event, it is often hard for me to think of other explanations.

Are they really messages from beyond? I don’t know.  I don’t really care.  They bring her peace and a connection with her father, who was taken too early from this world.  Using the vehicle of one vulnerable little boy, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close explores deep within the psyche of those who lose their loved ones suddenly – the intense anger, the overwhelming guilt, and the crushing sadness that keeps them searching for something to connect to the person they lost so abruptly.  It doesn’t matter if his father left him the key, or the pennies, or the rain.  What matters is that this soul is able to heal itself and move on.

Last November, I visited the 9/11 Memorial site.  Just a few seconds on the grounds brought back the sadness and fear that was left over from so many sudden deaths.  It didn’t take a pagan to feel it.  Everyone changed their tone the second they got through security on onto the memorial site. In the footprints of the buildings are two reflections pools, each etched with the names of the victims.  I was with a three-year old, and even she was overwhelmed by the hallowed feeling of that land.  The dead of 9/11 are still speaking to the City of New York just as much as they speak to young Oskar.

The lesson of Extremely Loud is to trust.  Trust in those who care for you and you will eventually heal.  Although the journey is painful, one day a perfectly clear sky will send its healing waters down to you.

Dec 222010
 

My wife and I had awesome Winter Solstice plans.  We live in southern California, land of sun and surf.  We decided to take a short trip out to a local hot springs and outdoor day spa to worship the sun by soaking up every ray we could.

Mother Nature had other plans.

In case you haven’t heard on the news, it has been raining in southern California. Not just raining – pouring.  Not just pouring – rain has been constantly, relentlessly, pounding this area since Friday.  If it were snow, the rest of the country would be sending us care packages.

The rain has been so bad that, just as we were getting ready to brave the weather and drive out to the spa, they called to tell us that they were closing early “for the safety of their guests.”  In truth, I was a little relieved.  I imagine that the relaxing decadence of a day spa is lost in translation a bit when cats and dogs are crashing down on you from the sky.

Disappointed, but resolute to enjoy our celebration anyway, we headed over to Downtown Disney to celebrate the return of the sun by watching Tangled, Disney’s new animated film based on the story of Rapunzel.

If you have seen it, you’re already laughing.

Continue reading »

Aug 062010
 

Is everybody in? Then let the ceremony begin…Oliver Stone’s 1991 The Doors is the most brilliant depiction of the Dionysian aspects of Rock and Roll ever put to film. It is also possibly the first representation of Wicca in American popular culture.

Jim Morrison’s philosophy is made plain at the beginning, as his (well, Val Kilmer’s) voice is heard narrating a student-film made at UCLA. “Nature said that all Great Things must first wear a Terrifying and Monstrous Mask, in order to inscribe themselves on the Heart of Humanity. In seance, the Shaman leads a sensuous panic- acts like a mad-man- a professional hysteric. Have you ever seen God? Mandala?” 

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Jul 092010
 

I went to see The Last Airbender while I was on my 4th of July vacation.  I had heard some negative reviews but the story sounded very interesting and I hoped the movie could transcend the bad press. 
 
Unfortunately, it did not.  I have to be honest that I am not familiar with the source material, but the best thing this movie did was make me want to explore the original works. 
 
The movie was an exercise in sloppy story telling.  The direction by M. Night Shyamalan was awful.  The once cutting edge phenom might have made movie history in the past by crafting one or two movies featuring a supernatural storyline and an interesting twist at the end, but many of his movies have fallen flat.  The Last Airbender is no exception.  The acting was abhorrent.  The children in the major roles performed at a bad community theater levels.  In fact, I bet if they had done a casting at community theaters throughout the US, they would have discovered some incredible talent for this very movie.  I knew everything was about to plummet downhill when one of the antagonists was played by Aasif Mandvi, most recognizable from his commentary on Comedy Central’s The Daily Show.  His performance in this movie was not good at all.  I think there was a lot of overacting by the entire cast, probably directed poorly to do so.  My partner and I couldn’t help but wonder what the movie might look like in the hands of a more skilled director.  Someone like Peter Jackson, perhaps. 
 
The story, without spoilers, is about a world where tribes of people master each of the four elements and a person, reincarnated through generations, known as the avatar is able to unite the people in peace.  Fast forward to a time where the avatar is missing and the world has fallen to in chaos as the hands of the FireBenders, wanting all the power for themselves.  Enter the title character and the world is supposed to be saved.  What a great idea with such a marvelous pagan theme – mastery of the four elements through magic – right?  Not this movie.  Your time and money would be better spent elsewhere.