I was a bit skeptical of Heath Ledger as the Joker, but this looks pretty awesome:
(Replacing the boring Katie Holmes with the divine Maggie Gyllenhaal wasn’t a bad idea either.)
I was a bit skeptical of Heath Ledger as the Joker, but this looks pretty awesome:
(Replacing the boring Katie Holmes with the divine Maggie Gyllenhaal wasn’t a bad idea either.)
I really want to see National Treasure: Book of Secrets. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to convince anyone I know to go with me. Why do all my friends have to have such good taste in movies?
I heartily recomment the new documentary Joe Strummer: The Future Is Unwritten. I saw it yesterday afternoon and loved it. The live footage of the Clash is electrifying and worth the price of admission alone. But even if you’re not a big Clash fan (and if not, well, what’s wrong with you?), the movie is a fascinating portait of Strummer, who went from privileged child of an English civil servant, to hippie squatter, to punk icon, to disillusioned rock star and apparent has-been, but who was able to find a new lease on life toward the end with his new band the Mescaleros.
Here’s an interview with the filmmaker, Julian Temple, a longtime friend of Strummer’s (he also made the notorious Sex Pistols film the Great Rock And Roll Swindle).
“White Riot”:
“Tommy Gun”:
“English Civil War” (live):
“White Man in Hammersmith Palais” (live in Tokyo):
“Coma Girl” (with the Mescaleros):
Last night I re-watched The Mission, one of my all-time favorite movies (with screenplay written by Robert Bolt, who also wrote the screenplay of one of my other all-time faves, A Man For All Seasons). Like A Man for All Seasons, The Mission is about conscience and the way we respond to injustice.
The Mission is the true story of Jesuit missionaries in 18th century South America trying to protect the Indians to whom they’re ministering from the unscrupulous machinations of the Spanish and Portuguese crowns, with the papacy stuck in the middle
Father Gabriel (Jeremy Irons) is an idealistic young priest who founds a mission in the high country above an enormous waterfall in a remote part of the jungle. He’s joined by his brother priests including Rodrigo Mendoza (Robert DeNiro), a reformed mercenary and slave-trader who accompanied the Jesuits to the mission as a kind of self-imposed penance for killing his brother (Aidan Quinn) in a fit of jealous rage. Mendoza ultimately has a dramatic conversion experience and becomes a Jesuit, finding a new kind of happiness among the Guaraní Indians.
The Indians are running self-sufficient communal plantations where the profits are shared and reinvested in the community, but have a somewhat precarious existence under the protection of the church. The Portuguese would like nothing better than to expropriate the Guarani’s lands and enslave them. As it happens, the missions exist in a dusputed territory recently ceded to the Portuguese by the Spanish, but this means the Guararni are at risk of being subject to Portuguese slavers unless the papal emissary,Altamirano, rules in their favor.
Unfortunately, the precarious position of the church in Europe, which would only be exacerbated by the Jesuits interfering with the secular powers, leads Altamirano to reluctantly conclude that the missions should be closed down and that all the Jesuits should leave. This, of course, means dispossession and enslavement for the Guarani unless the manage to disappear back into the jungle whence they came.
Fathers Gabriel and Mendoza both vow to stay with the Guarani, but diverge sharply over their responses to the imminent invasion of the mission by a combined Spanish-Portuguese force. While Gabriel insists that fidelty to their vocations requires Christ-like non-resistance, Mendoza reverts to his military ways, organizing the Guarani for an armed response against the invaders.
When Mendoza comes to Gabriel to renounce his vows as a priest, Gabriel counters with the theological rationale for not fighting:
Gabriel: What do you want, captain, an honorable death?
Mendoza: They want to live, Father. They say that God has left them,
he’s deserted them. Has he?Gabriel: You shouldn’t have become a priest.
Mendoza: But I am, and they need me.
Gabriel: Then help them as a priest! If you die with blood on your hands, you betray everything we’ve done. You promised your life to God. And God is love!
Later, when Mendoza comes to Gabriel asking him to bless his fight, Gabriel responds:
If might is right, then love has no place in the world. It may be so, it may be so. But I don’t have the strength to live in a world like that, Rodrigo.
Ultimately (SPOILER) both Mendoza and Gabriel meet their deaths at the hands of the invaders, the former felled in battle, the latter killed while leading his flock in a Eucharistic Procession. Those Guarani who aren’t killed or captured disappear back into the jungle.
It takes no great leap of insight to recognize that Gabriel and Rodrigo represent two divergent and contrasting Christian approaches to the problem of violence. Gabriel represents Christian pacifism: because God is love, as shown in the example of Christ, Christians can’t shed blood even in what may be a just cause. Rodrigo represents the “just war” ethos: force can be used to defend the innocent when their rights are being aggressed against. There’s no question that the Guarani are innocent and well within their rights, as far as natural justice is concerned, in defending themselves against the European invaders.
Of course, neither one of these approaches prevails in any concrete historical sense. The armed uprising is crushed and the pacifist priest is slaughtered. Force doesn’t stop the invaders and love doesn’t change their hearts (though there is one scene where even the hardened conquistadors hesitate momentarily before setting fire to a church full of men, women, and children).
You could say that Rodrigo ignores a cardinal tenet of just war theory: that war should only be waged when there is a reasonable likelihood of success. Unlike the pagan ideal of a noble death, the Christian just war tradition finds no virtue in fighting for a lost cause (Being martyred, of course, is another matter). The ragtag band of Indians, accompanied by three renegade priests, hardly seems likely to fend off a combined invasion by two of the world’s superpowers.
And yet, at least as the movie portrays it, Rodrigo’s response is understandable, if not justifiable. He sees massive injustice about to be inflicted on the people he loves and wants to fight back and to defend them. And this ideal is hardly unknown in Christendom. Rodrigo could be seen as a kind of knight-errant who, after repenting of his evil ways as a mercenary, uses his skills to champion the cause of the poor and oppressed.
But the movie’s heart seems to be with Gabriel and his Christ-like non-resistance. The image of him, dressed in white surplice, bearing the monstrance with the Host, leading his flock into the hail of gunfire has a special kind of power. It suggests, at least, that there is a power that love has when it refuses to hate, even if it is trampled underfoot by the world. Rodrigo gives in to the temptation to use violence, and fails anyway. Gabriel refuses to hate or strike back and that does seem to give him a kind of victory. It’s not some sentimental notion that you can love your enemy into loving you back, but that precisely by refusing to hate, love overcomes the powers of this world.
Bonus trivia: The radical priest Daniel Berrigan has a cameo as Sebastian, one of the priests at the missoin.
Warning: spoilers ahoy!
When I first read P.D. James’s Children of Men back in January I wondered how in the world they’d managed to make a Hollywood movie out of it. After all, here’s a book where the heroes are a band of Christian terrorists, the villain is an overweening government that subsidizes euthanasia, and in which a recurring theme is the possibility that the universal infertility that has stricken the human race is a punishment from God.
Well, having seen the film version just last night, I now know the answer: they didn’t make a movie out of James’s book. Sure there are similar ideas and plot contrivances, and characters who at least have the same names as some of James’s characters, but that’s about it. The movie seems to aspire to being a thinly-veiled diatribe against the Bush/Blair axis of evil and evacuates virtually all of the Christian themes and imagery.
Still present is the broad theme of Theo, the main character, learning to sacrifice for something bigger than himself, but while in the novel he’s a self-absorbed and despondent academic who becomes sensitized to the possibly transcendent mystery of the first human birth in eighteen years, the movie version has him as an ex-radical who rediscovers the joys of stickin’ it to the man (complete with an old pot smoking hippie mentor played by Michael Caine). The question of human infertility frankly almost seems like little more than a distraction with the real issue being the government’s treatment of refugees (‘fugees) and the police state that rounds them up like animals in the name of “fighting terrorism” (in case you don’t get the connection, a cell that the heroes are herded into is helpfully labeled “Department of Homeland Security”).
James’s book, by contrast, explores the despair and futility that afflicts a world without children. This makes the first birth in a generation far more powerful. “The Five Fishes” – the band of somewhat hapless dissidents whose name seems to have a distinctly Christian reference, made completely inexplicable in the film – have a simple faith that if they can just protect the mother untill the baby is born somehow everything will be ok. In the film, by contrast, rather than trusting in any kind of providence, you have a shadowy cabal of scientists to act as the deus ex machina.
All of which is not to say that Children of Men is a bad movie. It certainly has its moments, and the cinematography is top-notch. It’s just a shame when such rich and interesting source material gets wasted so someone can take shots at George Bush and Tony Blair.
On Friday we went with some friends to see The Decemberists at the Avalon, a club near Fenway park. Fantastic! The theatricality of their music comes out even more on stage. I’m not generally a fan of “indie rock” as a genre (not sure the Decemberists even fit into that category), but these guys are really good and fun.
Also saw Casino Royale this weekend. Meh. I guess, despite my best efforts, I’ve never been able to become a real fan of the Bond series. The character has always struck me as fundamentally uninteresting. CR was certainly far better than most of the recent Bond movies, but still not as good, qua spy thriller, as something like, say, The Bourne Identity. Took itself a bit too seriously too.
Oh, and speaking of indie rockers – Arcade Fire, what’s up with these guys? I’ve only listened to a few songs, but what I get is fairly well-crafted Springsteen-esque pop. OK, but nothing to justify the preposterous amount of hype surrounding this band. Can anyone ‘splain this to me?