Hey rabid fans! For the 2 people in the entire universe who ever read my oft belated blog, I have a new place of musings and postings! Go to Evangerfireside.wordpress.com for my new blog!
Thanks, all you loyal fans!
-Evanger Fireside, AKA, Louis Hara
Friday, May 18, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Amazing Grace: a review.
When my roomate asked me if I wanted to go see Amazing Grace, the latest in pro-Christian film fare, I accepted with a hint of apprehension. I didn't expect the movie to be all that great. Perhaps this is because of the all too prevalent complaint of "enlightened" Christain youth like myself who flatly criticise Christian-made films for being "not very well made". My suspicion is that this means at very least "I didn't like it", and at most "the special effects were cheap-looking". The likelihood that most of us actuay pay attention to camera angle, scene structure, quality of writing and narrative unity is slight.
Keeping this in mind, I went to see the movie, knowing that I fit in more with the ignorant mass of uninformed young film critics. So I tried to watch the movie attentively, trying to use my amateur film critic skills less that my skills of simple human audience-ship. But I was distracted. I was trying to let the story wash over me, trying to be drawn into history, character, and plot, but something distracted me--I think it started with the very young children sitting next to me. There were four of them all together, all between 5 and 12, sitting with their mother, bored out of their minds. I felt the most sympathy for the boy next to me.
Undoubtedly his mother, judging from her mid-prayer worthy "mm-hm"s and "amen"s throughout the film, was there purley because she heard the words "Christian", "family", and "famous hymn" associated with the film. Poor kid--he had no choice! He was dragged away from a delightful night of legos and Bible-Man action figures to a movie that was unsure of its genre, and, I hope, more unsure of its audience. It angers me that parents aren't more discriminating in what they let their children watch.
I considered writing this review henceforward from the perspective of my small friend beside me, but decided it would be too depressing. So, finally, the review: after complaining for the last two paragraphs (which I secretly believe is the reason the Blogosphere was invented), I thought I'd start with the good things the movie did, the things that, almost without realizing, I enjoyed and even admired. First, almost all the actors were top notch, a rarity for Christian fare. Ioan Gruffudd was all that the character of William wilberforce needed, with subtle eccentricity, believability, and real passion. Other acting highlights included Michael Gambon as the hearty and humorous Fox, an ancient english bloke still lively enough to ruffle parliament's feathers, and a tragic, glorious, and grotesquely underused Albert Finney as the famed John Newton. Also a delight was the brief role of Wliberforce's butler Richard, played by Jeremy Swift, who stole each of his scenes with his Scottish brogue and Bacon-esque wisdom.
The second thing the movie did quite well was the smooth transportation into the period and setting of the story. Gruffudd especially seemed born to wear wigs and tall, brown boots, and seemed quite at home, along with the rest of the cast, in parlimentary debate. Though I'll have more to say about the writing a bit later, one thing the writers were good at was simulation of the forgotten wit of yesteryear's political procedure. I don't know much about the style of debate in 19th century British politics, but I didn't doubt for a minute that I was seeing what may have been.
If only for these two qualities--superiority of acting and seeming perfection of period, the movie is worth seeing. And now on to the nasty-bits. I immediately noticed the strange brevity and vacuity of each scene. The film began en media res, so some bit of preliminary choppiness was to be expected, but it didn't let up. Scene after scene flowed by, mostly unconnected in time, plot, and intention. Some scenes were clearly shot only to make a joke, and most of the jokes weren't quite worth a scene. Many scenes seemed included for profundity's sake--all for the punch of a final line, which usually turned out to be "you can do it, William, YOU CAN DO IT!" But even the talent of Albert Finney or Michael Gambon couldn't fix the problem of how the scenes were written. The dialogue was too brief, as if Eugene Peterson had come across a Quentin Tarrantino script and decided to try to mimic M. Night Shyamalan. The scenes had no time to build--characters rushed toward conclusions and emotions in fast motion, often opting for only expositional filler when there was filler at all. The love scenes especially, for all the chemistry of Gruffudd and the firey Ramola Garai, looked like nothing in real life-- a parody, a gloss of actual interaction--'show, don't tell' this was certainly not.
I said earlier that the film wasn't sure of it's genre, and I'm sticking to it. It was, of course, a historical drama, but it wavered from comedy to drama, from an in-dpeth story of a tormented genuis to a collection of pithy Christian aphorisms articulated in the finest British accent. It was part actual story, part quote collection. It made me sad that the profound quotes were such a hit with the contemporary Christian audience. I was not sad because I think profound quotes are worthless, nor because I find Christian audences easily manipulated (which they only sometimes are), but because the movie didn't work for its profundity, and it didn't show its themes. I'm not even sure what the theme of the movie was. Was it grace? After all, it's called Amazing Grace, but it was mostly a collection of somewhat connected scenes in which Wilberforce is convinced that he should fight to abolish slavery in England. Some scenes show him discouraged, some scenes show him encouraged, but are very few thematic threads that tie the story together, no unity of idea. Sure, there are lots of ideas, but none incarnate, except, perhaps, that it's good to keep fighting for what's right. But even then, the payoff at the end of the movie doesn't even rise to the level of intense standoff with evil. It fizzles into a happy ending, with a few memorable lines said by Gambon that I fear, revealed the highest levels of the script writer's ability.
There's more to say about this movie, but I think I've said enough. I'll wait for someone else to write about the pitiful use of the song Amazing Grace in the movie. Such a powerful song should have a powerful incarnation into a story, but until Christians stop being so hasty with the pop-gospel and make a movie that patiently reveals truth and beauty, we will be seen as impatient hacks all too content with petty sentiment squeezed from a preached-to choir, while the spoils of Egypt stand by and wonder why we even hired them.
Keeping this in mind, I went to see the movie, knowing that I fit in more with the ignorant mass of uninformed young film critics. So I tried to watch the movie attentively, trying to use my amateur film critic skills less that my skills of simple human audience-ship. But I was distracted. I was trying to let the story wash over me, trying to be drawn into history, character, and plot, but something distracted me--I think it started with the very young children sitting next to me. There were four of them all together, all between 5 and 12, sitting with their mother, bored out of their minds. I felt the most sympathy for the boy next to me.
Undoubtedly his mother, judging from her mid-prayer worthy "mm-hm"s and "amen"s throughout the film, was there purley because she heard the words "Christian", "family", and "famous hymn" associated with the film. Poor kid--he had no choice! He was dragged away from a delightful night of legos and Bible-Man action figures to a movie that was unsure of its genre, and, I hope, more unsure of its audience. It angers me that parents aren't more discriminating in what they let their children watch.
I considered writing this review henceforward from the perspective of my small friend beside me, but decided it would be too depressing. So, finally, the review: after complaining for the last two paragraphs (which I secretly believe is the reason the Blogosphere was invented), I thought I'd start with the good things the movie did, the things that, almost without realizing, I enjoyed and even admired. First, almost all the actors were top notch, a rarity for Christian fare. Ioan Gruffudd was all that the character of William wilberforce needed, with subtle eccentricity, believability, and real passion. Other acting highlights included Michael Gambon as the hearty and humorous Fox, an ancient english bloke still lively enough to ruffle parliament's feathers, and a tragic, glorious, and grotesquely underused Albert Finney as the famed John Newton. Also a delight was the brief role of Wliberforce's butler Richard, played by Jeremy Swift, who stole each of his scenes with his Scottish brogue and Bacon-esque wisdom.
The second thing the movie did quite well was the smooth transportation into the period and setting of the story. Gruffudd especially seemed born to wear wigs and tall, brown boots, and seemed quite at home, along with the rest of the cast, in parlimentary debate. Though I'll have more to say about the writing a bit later, one thing the writers were good at was simulation of the forgotten wit of yesteryear's political procedure. I don't know much about the style of debate in 19th century British politics, but I didn't doubt for a minute that I was seeing what may have been.
If only for these two qualities--superiority of acting and seeming perfection of period, the movie is worth seeing. And now on to the nasty-bits. I immediately noticed the strange brevity and vacuity of each scene. The film began en media res, so some bit of preliminary choppiness was to be expected, but it didn't let up. Scene after scene flowed by, mostly unconnected in time, plot, and intention. Some scenes were clearly shot only to make a joke, and most of the jokes weren't quite worth a scene. Many scenes seemed included for profundity's sake--all for the punch of a final line, which usually turned out to be "you can do it, William, YOU CAN DO IT!" But even the talent of Albert Finney or Michael Gambon couldn't fix the problem of how the scenes were written. The dialogue was too brief, as if Eugene Peterson had come across a Quentin Tarrantino script and decided to try to mimic M. Night Shyamalan. The scenes had no time to build--characters rushed toward conclusions and emotions in fast motion, often opting for only expositional filler when there was filler at all. The love scenes especially, for all the chemistry of Gruffudd and the firey Ramola Garai, looked like nothing in real life-- a parody, a gloss of actual interaction--'show, don't tell' this was certainly not.
I said earlier that the film wasn't sure of it's genre, and I'm sticking to it. It was, of course, a historical drama, but it wavered from comedy to drama, from an in-dpeth story of a tormented genuis to a collection of pithy Christian aphorisms articulated in the finest British accent. It was part actual story, part quote collection. It made me sad that the profound quotes were such a hit with the contemporary Christian audience. I was not sad because I think profound quotes are worthless, nor because I find Christian audences easily manipulated (which they only sometimes are), but because the movie didn't work for its profundity, and it didn't show its themes. I'm not even sure what the theme of the movie was. Was it grace? After all, it's called Amazing Grace, but it was mostly a collection of somewhat connected scenes in which Wilberforce is convinced that he should fight to abolish slavery in England. Some scenes show him discouraged, some scenes show him encouraged, but are very few thematic threads that tie the story together, no unity of idea. Sure, there are lots of ideas, but none incarnate, except, perhaps, that it's good to keep fighting for what's right. But even then, the payoff at the end of the movie doesn't even rise to the level of intense standoff with evil. It fizzles into a happy ending, with a few memorable lines said by Gambon that I fear, revealed the highest levels of the script writer's ability.
There's more to say about this movie, but I think I've said enough. I'll wait for someone else to write about the pitiful use of the song Amazing Grace in the movie. Such a powerful song should have a powerful incarnation into a story, but until Christians stop being so hasty with the pop-gospel and make a movie that patiently reveals truth and beauty, we will be seen as impatient hacks all too content with petty sentiment squeezed from a preached-to choir, while the spoils of Egypt stand by and wonder why we even hired them.
Monday, February 13, 2006
gender!
So I just had a wonderful conversation with some friends and colleagues and more than ever, I don't understand gender. Please dont disragard the article below, just know I'm confused, not as to whether there is a difference between men and women, but as to what that difference is; Matt A of Mere Orthodoxy has some very interesting ideas. If only he'd release his new book and enlighten us all.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
sex! (as in gender)
It seems unfortunate that equality of the sexes be as stressed as it is, not only in the Christian community, of which I am a part, but also in the culture of America at large. I say this with full recognition (can there be such a thing?) of the dangers of traditional patriarchy, and a slight bent toward a more liberal (though many who know me may not agree) view of a woman’s place in society after I have spent time with actual women, especially the exceptional women who I am privileged to be friends with, who hang about the University like queen bees about a single hive.
This being said, it is unfortunate not only for women that equality of the sexes be stressed, but also for men. Now I’ve heard the conservative drivel (and drivel always has more truth than we should like to admit) about the feminization of men, about how the feminist agenda (if there ever has been a unified feminist agenda) has, at its root, not equality and freedom as its ends, but instead, a male oppressing matriarchy. If this is indeed the feminist agenda, then I am sorely sorry to say that their agenda is self defeating; if presented with a game of mastery, men are of the sort to fight until they win or die—it would be much more beneficial and profitable to stick with the rhetoric of equality and freedom. If there is to be no master, if the game has no victor, then the men will truly have been beaten.
What will this state of the feminine victory look like? First of all, it will not be a physical victory. Men will still gravitate, in general, toward the more physically demanding vocations. What will change is motivation. If women can convince men that there is no real battle because there is no real difference between the genders, then women will have proved the modern theory that all gender conceptions are socially conditioned, even, perhaps especially that conception that gender is an illusion.
Here is why the social conditioning of gender equality will be harmful to culture: it will take away, as was said above, motivation in men, specifically that motivation that, in part, drove them to be virtuous and strong in the first place: the responsibility for another. If traditional gender roles, with man as the ‘head’ (whatever that means) fully disappear from the earth, we will see the male gender more demoralized and weak than ever. And if you give them enough visual and auditory entertainment, pornography, and other forms of virtual reality, then they will become ineffective members of society. Women truly will have any job, career, or lifestyle choice they want, but men will all have the same lifestyle choice, with one group of exceptions.
The exceptions are those exceptional people that the medieval world called monks, those who rejected culture in some aspects and matrimony entirely, and devoted all of their time to prayer and study. Conditioners beware: fear these men and women above all, fear that they will motivate men with traditional ideals. The swords and arrows of patriarchal man are vicious.
A note: Am I being fair to men, or am I dismissing all males as push overs? Why do they fly about, blown by every wind which promises sensual or intellectual pleasure or mastery? If what I say is true, are not men the weaker race? Yes, yes, we are weak and you women must help us. Do not tell us we are equal as genders, because some day we might believe it and stop trying to master you. We will stop trying to chase you, stop trying to build cities for you and tear cities down to take you back. Yes, we fall on our knees at every passing pleasure, but do not delude yourself. Remember the power of diamonds on such beings as yourselves, and you will see that all humans are weak in the presence of beauty, whether cheap or costly.
A second note: I do not understand gender, but I do induct that a gospel of equality and freedom of and between genders will lead to weak people. Men will stop fighting, stop working as hard, and women will not have the chance to make the truly difficult decision of whether or not to get married. In the end, there is only one feminist agenda, an agenda that is shared by the non-religious nuns of the modern and post-modern university and the low-class, nagging housewife—that of the motivation of men on the small scale and humans on the large scale. Let the relation of genders be a fight to the death, a fair fight which, Chesterton says, no man (or woman) should refuse.
Man and woman, myself and others, discover together what kind of things you are; do not conclude before you have begun to argue: for it is in the midst of battle that the soldier finds his virtue, his courage, his honor, strength, and love.
This being said, it is unfortunate not only for women that equality of the sexes be stressed, but also for men. Now I’ve heard the conservative drivel (and drivel always has more truth than we should like to admit) about the feminization of men, about how the feminist agenda (if there ever has been a unified feminist agenda) has, at its root, not equality and freedom as its ends, but instead, a male oppressing matriarchy. If this is indeed the feminist agenda, then I am sorely sorry to say that their agenda is self defeating; if presented with a game of mastery, men are of the sort to fight until they win or die—it would be much more beneficial and profitable to stick with the rhetoric of equality and freedom. If there is to be no master, if the game has no victor, then the men will truly have been beaten.
What will this state of the feminine victory look like? First of all, it will not be a physical victory. Men will still gravitate, in general, toward the more physically demanding vocations. What will change is motivation. If women can convince men that there is no real battle because there is no real difference between the genders, then women will have proved the modern theory that all gender conceptions are socially conditioned, even, perhaps especially that conception that gender is an illusion.
Here is why the social conditioning of gender equality will be harmful to culture: it will take away, as was said above, motivation in men, specifically that motivation that, in part, drove them to be virtuous and strong in the first place: the responsibility for another. If traditional gender roles, with man as the ‘head’ (whatever that means) fully disappear from the earth, we will see the male gender more demoralized and weak than ever. And if you give them enough visual and auditory entertainment, pornography, and other forms of virtual reality, then they will become ineffective members of society. Women truly will have any job, career, or lifestyle choice they want, but men will all have the same lifestyle choice, with one group of exceptions.
The exceptions are those exceptional people that the medieval world called monks, those who rejected culture in some aspects and matrimony entirely, and devoted all of their time to prayer and study. Conditioners beware: fear these men and women above all, fear that they will motivate men with traditional ideals. The swords and arrows of patriarchal man are vicious.
A note: Am I being fair to men, or am I dismissing all males as push overs? Why do they fly about, blown by every wind which promises sensual or intellectual pleasure or mastery? If what I say is true, are not men the weaker race? Yes, yes, we are weak and you women must help us. Do not tell us we are equal as genders, because some day we might believe it and stop trying to master you. We will stop trying to chase you, stop trying to build cities for you and tear cities down to take you back. Yes, we fall on our knees at every passing pleasure, but do not delude yourself. Remember the power of diamonds on such beings as yourselves, and you will see that all humans are weak in the presence of beauty, whether cheap or costly.
A second note: I do not understand gender, but I do induct that a gospel of equality and freedom of and between genders will lead to weak people. Men will stop fighting, stop working as hard, and women will not have the chance to make the truly difficult decision of whether or not to get married. In the end, there is only one feminist agenda, an agenda that is shared by the non-religious nuns of the modern and post-modern university and the low-class, nagging housewife—that of the motivation of men on the small scale and humans on the large scale. Let the relation of genders be a fight to the death, a fair fight which, Chesterton says, no man (or woman) should refuse.
Man and woman, myself and others, discover together what kind of things you are; do not conclude before you have begun to argue: for it is in the midst of battle that the soldier finds his virtue, his courage, his honor, strength, and love.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
It's about time!
If you read my blog, you've probably been thinking I post almost as rarely as Miss Maltby (pun intended).
There is a very good reason for this: whenever I feel the urge to write, I work on a story that's slowly been developing for the last few months. In the spirit of this interactive, self indulgent, digital age, I have a question for my droves (5? 6? per month?) of readers. I'd like you to tell me without knowing anything about the story: Should I kill my main character at the end of the book?
Feedback please.
There is a very good reason for this: whenever I feel the urge to write, I work on a story that's slowly been developing for the last few months. In the spirit of this interactive, self indulgent, digital age, I have a question for my droves (5? 6? per month?) of readers. I'd like you to tell me without knowing anything about the story: Should I kill my main character at the end of the book?
Feedback please.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Complaining...
...I have noticed lately that many blog posts consist of complaining about practical circumstances on one's life. I apparently missed the memo that this is what blogs are for and so have decided to jump on the bandwagon before it's too late.
So, I ask myself, as the midnight hour slowly creeps by and my eyes begin to burn with sleep, what should I complain about? Well, I could complain about my nice silver car which was brutally smashed as it sat in its parking space on my street yesterday.
But I don't really want to complain about that: I felt bad for the guy who lost control of his old bug and slammed into me, plus the sun was so warm on the trees above the scene that the leaves glowed gold in the late afternoon.
But I suppose I do have something to complain about, come to think of it. Where in this good, green United States can a guy get a good cappucino? But even now, I can't quite complain. Starbucks cappucinos are, of course, mediocre; they do their job, but lack the higher subtleties of truly good cappucinos.
What of the cappucinos I can't complain about?
1. Pete's: Pete's coffee itself is quite good and thie cappucinos combine a velvet sweetness with a needed bite that's balanced quit well.
2. Seattle's Best: I haven't drunk their regular coffee, but their cappucinos are extrordinarily smooth. The foam is less like foam and more like an airy liquid...mmmm....
The conclusion? I don't know why we complain. do you?
So, I ask myself, as the midnight hour slowly creeps by and my eyes begin to burn with sleep, what should I complain about? Well, I could complain about my nice silver car which was brutally smashed as it sat in its parking space on my street yesterday.
But I don't really want to complain about that: I felt bad for the guy who lost control of his old bug and slammed into me, plus the sun was so warm on the trees above the scene that the leaves glowed gold in the late afternoon.
But I suppose I do have something to complain about, come to think of it. Where in this good, green United States can a guy get a good cappucino? But even now, I can't quite complain. Starbucks cappucinos are, of course, mediocre; they do their job, but lack the higher subtleties of truly good cappucinos.
What of the cappucinos I can't complain about?
1. Pete's: Pete's coffee itself is quite good and thie cappucinos combine a velvet sweetness with a needed bite that's balanced quit well.
2. Seattle's Best: I haven't drunk their regular coffee, but their cappucinos are extrordinarily smooth. The foam is less like foam and more like an airy liquid...mmmm....
The conclusion? I don't know why we complain. do you?
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Take THAT!
Merry Christmas from Jolly Old Saint Chesterton:
Gloria in Profundis
by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
There has fallen on earth for a token
A god too great for the sky.
He has burst out of all things and broken
The bounds of eternity:
Into time and the terminal land
He has strayed like a thief or a lover,
For the wine of the world brims over,
Its splendour is split on the sand.
Who is proud when the heavens are humble,
Who mounts if the mountains fall,
If the fixed stars topple and tumble
And a deluge of love drowns all--
Who rears up his head for a crown,
Who holds up his will for a warrant,
Who strives with the starry torrent,
When all that is good goes down?
For in dread of such falling and failing
The fallen angels fell
Inverted in insolence, scaling
The hanging mountain of hell:
But unmeasured of plummet and rod
Too deep for their sight to scan,
Outrushing the fall of man
Is the height of the fall of God.
Glory to God in the Lowest
The spout of the stars in spate-
Where thunderbolt thinks to be slowest
And the lightning fears to be late:
As men dive for sunken gem
Pursuing, we hunt and hound it,
The fallen star has found it
In the cavern of Bethlehem.
Gloria in Profundis
by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
There has fallen on earth for a token
A god too great for the sky.
He has burst out of all things and broken
The bounds of eternity:
Into time and the terminal land
He has strayed like a thief or a lover,
For the wine of the world brims over,
Its splendour is split on the sand.
Who is proud when the heavens are humble,
Who mounts if the mountains fall,
If the fixed stars topple and tumble
And a deluge of love drowns all--
Who rears up his head for a crown,
Who holds up his will for a warrant,
Who strives with the starry torrent,
When all that is good goes down?
For in dread of such falling and failing
The fallen angels fell
Inverted in insolence, scaling
The hanging mountain of hell:
But unmeasured of plummet and rod
Too deep for their sight to scan,
Outrushing the fall of man
Is the height of the fall of God.
Glory to God in the Lowest
The spout of the stars in spate-
Where thunderbolt thinks to be slowest
And the lightning fears to be late:
As men dive for sunken gem
Pursuing, we hunt and hound it,
The fallen star has found it
In the cavern of Bethlehem.
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