The 2012 Holiday Movies: A Nostalgic Look Back

I saw five films this Yuletide season, and to my surprise, I liked them all. This could mean that getting older, living in Germany, wanting to impress people, or writing a blog have not yet managed to make me a proper critical curmudgeon, though I'm reeeeally trying (see below). Still, no one wants pay for a movie they don't like, and I'm almost afraid to see another one lest I break the streak. Here are a few thoughts on the movies, in the order in which I saw them.

Skyfall - At this point, it shouldn't be a spoiler that the latest 007 is setting up a reboot - reintroducing old characters, killing off another old one. I don't mind. The only part I minded so much was the "getting-shot-off-a-moving-train-into-a-river-but-still-surviving" part that was pushing it, even by Bond standards. But a big part of the fun is always watching how they re-brand this product of the Cold War to fit into the modern era and still maintain the spirit of 007. I'm curious how the next installments will handle the resurrected Moneypenny (Mark Steyn has an interesting essay on the old one and the actress who played her). Like every Bond film, there was plenty of booze, women, travel, chases, fights and villains - Javier Bardem combined the slimy, the ruthless and the genius archetypes into one - so much so that he doesn't need a memorable sidekick like Oddjob. Action and food for thought.

Cloud Atlas - I hate saying how much fun I had at this movie. I hate admitting that I was giddy as a hyena juggling the plots, actors, times, directors and gobs of race-bending makeup. I hate it. I hate it because all the cool people, by which I mean the critics at intellectual, left-leaning websites and radio stations hated the film. And I want to fit in with the cool kids. It's probably because I haven't read David Mitchell's book just yet (I got it for Christmas, though it's an edition with a movie poster for a cover, which also embarrasses me). I came in with a blank slate and remained engrossed  from start to finish. I was warned I'd get lost the first time, but even watching it dubbed in German, I had no problem following. There was fun aplenty just watching where the characters show up (Hugh Grant as a tribal chieftain in a post-apocalyptic future!), and I thought the plots, past and future, weaved together nicely. My favorite plot is the adventure of Somni 451 in Neo Seoul - Doona Bae is excellent. Maybe I'll hate the film after I've read the book. But I'll probably still hate the fact that I love the film so much.

Lincoln - I love Lincoln the more I think about it. I was still fighting off holiday jetlag when I saw it back in the USA, and between then and now, I read my father's copy of Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin, the film's principle source. There's a cynicism, brewed in anyone who reads too much Internet or lives in Germany, about any hero type, especially a historical hero type, that nobody can be so good, that there's some clever person out there to deconstruct our hero so we might as well prepare ourselves for disappointment. Yet Lincoln, freely willing to deconstruct himself, still stands as a real American hero. Not a military man, no formal education, and not even the most progressive of his day on the issues of race and slavery, yet he was the one who had the fortitude to preserve the union, free the slaves and, according to Goodwin's accounts, managed to treat those around him with dignity. I wish I had these honest Abe traits - a real genius who managed to like and respect those around him, even those you'd forgive him for hating. Thus, Spielberg's saintly portrayal is not Hollywood sentimentality but something good and right, and I can't wait to see the film a second time. The New Yorker's review makes this point: "The movie itself feels alive with disquiet, torn between its duty to tell an earthly, complex tale and - as so often with Spielberg - the urge to break free and rise to the realm of myth." The more I think about Lincoln the man, the more I can relate. A few more scattered thoughts - add my thanks to all of those thanking Spielberg and his writer, Tony Kushner, for focusing on a small sliver of Lincoln's life rather than shooting another bloody biopic. Nonetheless, the film doesn't forget to deftly include Lincoln's family dynamics, and I thought Sally Field was great as Mary Todd. Some of the best scenes were from their stormy, loving marriage. Oh, and, you got to love anyone who can tell a funny story in the middle of a crisis. By the way, should anyone other than Daniel Day Lewis be nominated for best actor? ... Nah, I don't think so either.

Argo - My second dose of American history and a small, exciting, redemptive story out of the 1970 Iran hostage crisis. Credit to director Affleck for not white-washing America's role in the mess that Iran became (the opening history lesson makes this very clear) while still nurturing our natural sympathies for the hostages whose lives were in real danger. A small thing - it was fun to see John Goodman as Hollywood make-up artist John Chambers. John Goodman always makes his films better.

The Hobbit - Unlike Cloud Atlas, I have no trouble admitting how much I loved the film. I am a JRR Tolkien lover, but I'm not enough of a nerd to have ready all of the notes and encyclopedias and extra stuff (though I did get the painting Calendars through college). So for the most part, I know where Peter Jackson varied from the original text in his expanded and stretched out film, and the only thing that really bothered me was the (spoiler, but honestly...) a forced redemption scene at the end where Bilbo, in classic Peter Jackson slow motion, saves Thorin Oakenshield's life. A big part of the story is Bilbo finally earning Thorin's respect, but did they really need to create a forced, magic moment out of nowhere? But other than that, good times all around. I particularly loved how he made Thorin so compelling. And of course, it's great watching Jackson's imagination come to life and comparing it with your own. Whatever the real fans pick at, Peter Jackson knows how to speak to that little boy in me playing with dinosaurs and action figures on the kitchen counter twenty some years ago. When Peter Jackson remade King Kong, I remember hearing a commentator complaining about how he left out the social and racial commentary of the first film. I'm sure a better movie wouldn't have done so. But he did produce a scene where King Kong fights a Tyrannosaurus Rex - a scene I had acted out in my little imagination so many times. My adult, pseudo-critic wasn't satisfied, but the little boy thought, "now THAT was cool."

So, my holiday movies. I haven't seen the other notables, such as Anna Karenina, Django Unchained, Life of Pi, Zero Dark Thirty, or a certain musical based on my favorite novel, and no promises on those for various reasons. But Tinseltown had a nice Christmas, didn't it? What were your favorite movies?

Whitney Houston and the Joyful Noise

It's a strange sadness, the sadness I feel at the news of Whitney Houston's death. I've never been much of a pop music guy, and I could never be called a real Whitney fan. I never bought an album, and I only know the songs that the casual radio listener would know. I remember my mother singing along to "I Wanna Dance with Somebody"in the kitchen back in the day - probably having a welcome respite to those incessant children's albums (as I am now all too familiar with). I remember being annoyed as a Middle Schooler when it seemed like "I Will Always Love You" was the only thing they played on the radio. Yet even with my distance and preteen attitude, Houston's voice always stuck with me more than her fellow pop divas and more than pretty much all the other voices that haunt my speakers.  

I think I know why. In several places, the Psalmist invites us to "make a joyful noise to the Lord." Houston sang with an unhinged joy, the kind of joy you see in a two year old girl when she dances to her favorite song. As far as I can see, none of her talented contemporaries had that. Maybe they could match her in attitude or showmanship or however else you measure divas, but they couldn't match her in joy. The joy recalls that famous scene in Chariots of Fire where Eric Liddell, the Scottish missionary who was preparing for the 1924 Olympics is accused by his sister Jennie of ignoring God's work to run all the time. He tells her, "I believe God made me for a purpose, but He also made me fast. And when I run, I can feel his pleasure." (And for what it's worth, Ian Charleson beautifully captures Liddell's joy in the film)

Houston sang as if she could feel God's pleasure, and it was infectious. Yes, her problems were legion - a bad marriage, drug abuse and all the trappings of deification. I can't say I'd have done better. I can only pray the same prayer I pray for any of us: God have mercy on her. I can only hope that she has been found with Jesus, where her voice can soar with the joy of the heavenly hosts. 

You've Got Tweets

At least one other blogger beat me to it (I did a "just in case" Google search on the topic), but at least it was an original idea among my friends, and besides, we have a different angle.

With Borders bookstores closing all over America, and various social media replacing that quaint, old-fashioned practice known as electronic mail, it's time for a sequel to that quintessential 90s movie, You've Got Mail. Yes, it's a generic love story - "oh, no, I hope they end up with each other and not with the uncomfortable, incompatible person they're currently dating!" plot regurgitation, but the backdrop of the rise of internet, email, online relationships and mega-bookstores makes this the kind of movie future historians will watch as they consider the 90s.

The plot of the sequal could be something like this: Played by Tom Hanks, widower Joe Fox (Meg Ryan's cold at the end of the movie was actually a warning sign) is also grieving the loss of 60% of his mega-bookstores, forced to close in the wake of fierce competition from a popular web-based discount store called "Nile." From his iPhone, Joe vents his sorrows through his anonymous Twitter account, @NY154. He begins to be followed by another anonymous person known as @Netgirl. The two begin playful but earnest banter and begin to fall through instantaneous messages of 140 characters or less.

Of course, @Netgirl is really the owner of the Nile website, who mostly tweets inside her expensive but lonely office, located in Nile's 150-acre Silicone Valley complex. She could be played by... oh, I don't know, Reese Witherspoon, or how about Gwyneth Paltrow? Of course, the love regurgitation story is beside the point (I'm sure they'll both be dating undesirable comic-relief characters who you pray they don't end up with). The real point will be to show future generations the rise of smart phones and social media, along with the demise of outlet chains. One of the classic movie moments will be where Joe Fox waxes on about the good old days, when people sat around in bookstore coffee areas reading magazines instead being glued to a screen all the time. At another point, @Netgirl would tweet from Fox Books: " Only 40% off for a best seller? Who pays that much!?" She will also make fun of Fox Books' awkward attempts to come up with a rival to her successful electronic reader, "The Blaze." At the end, of course, we'll learn that love conquers all, even sentimental attachment to your doomed business.

Yes, I think this is the movie you've been looking for - the one you'll use when telling the grandkids about early 21st century life.

Questions for "The Social Network", or Billionaires Are People Too

As a film, few have anything bad to say about "The Social Network." Critics and audiences love it (HT Ross Douthat for the link). The actors, writers and director are excellent, I read. I haven't seen the film yet, and I would honestly like to, more to be a part of the conversation than to think that I would enjoy it. (I've seen much less films in the theaters since my daughter was born, so I may have to wait until it hits my local library)

The haunting previews made me wonder if the film's marketers thought I would be attracted to a take-down of Facebook's wildly successful founder, Mark Zuckerberg (though I love the boy's choir version of "Creep" by Radiohead). He comes across as part Shakespearian tyrant and part insolent teenager with enough computer geek thrown in to remind you of what he does. This probably does not paint the whole picture, of course. News services are doing their due diligence about "The Social Network's" accuracy. I've read mixed reports as to whether or not Zuckerberg himself will see (or has seen) the film, but I'd understand it if he didn't. Imagine if those who disliked or did not understand you made a film inflating the worst parts of your character? Would it help that the critics were salivating?

Given the city I live in, perhaps this bothers me too much. Politics and everything public are a dirty sport, and those involve can expect to "make a few enemies" as the film, smirking, points out. But I can't help but wonder if, what if I were the subject slanderous books describing my childhood, or with protesters carrying my portrait with superimposed Hitler mustache. Yes, the film probably won't ultimately hurt Zuckerberg. He has enough money to stuff his mattress with thousand dollar bills and completely retire from public life. And yes, I'm sure his rise to the top isn't without story and controversy. But I hope the biopic is fairer than the previews and critiques indicate. Whatever the sins and temptations that come from wealth, success and influence, they do not shield us from humanity. Those who make films, write columns or scrawl unaccountable words in cyberspace should keep that in mind.

Garden State Re-Viewed

Yesterday, my wife borrowed Garden State from the library. I had seen Zach Braff's 2004 movie a few years ago, but she had not seen it yet. Aside from being a film we'll one day show our kids when they ask us about hip, turn-of-the-century music, there was a point in the story that struck me as worth keeping. (mind the spoiler) At the end, the main character, Largeman (played by Braff) after kicking the emotion-numbing medication that he used for a decade and a half, realizes that he needs to figure himself out now that he can feel. He had returned home to New Jersey from LA for his mother's funeral. Now, armed with this new self-realization he acquired over his four day return, he boards the plane back to California. His new, life-to-the-fullest girlfriend (my favorite Natalie Portman role) begs him to stay, so that they can make the journey together. Before takeoff, he leaves the airplane and returns to her so they can do just that.

It's a good reminder that most of us need help in our journeys of redemption, and unadulterated individualism rarely works for this sort of thing. As I continue to point out, I've needed help in my journey, and really, that's ok. The better films of this decade have made the same point, of course.

A suggestion beyond Garden State would be to invite God into your journey as well. Whether intended or not, God's absence is deeply and sadly felt in the film, as the characters use legal and illegal drugs, sex, relationships, money, experience - each numbing themselves in their own way. Natalie Portman's character mentions nonchalantly that she doesn't really believe in God. Largeman himself insists that he's not really (as in religiously) Jewish and only goes to Temple on Yom Kippur.

If you find yourself with a sort of familiar ache for a home that no longer exists, which is something the characters talk about in one of the more reflective moments, then consider getting to know Jesus. When I know him, my life is as beautiful or tragic or mundane as anyone else's, but it's filled with something more than can't be replicated. He offers life, and everything that comes with it, only more so.

Meanwhile, if you have not seen Garden State, or have not seen it in awhile, go to your local library and borrow it for the evening. Well worth it.

Searching for David

Last weekend's "Restoring Honor to America" rally, sponsored by Glenn Beck to promote his brand of faith, hope and charity continued a train of thought I've had for awhile now. What first made me want to blog about it (by which I mean the train of thought, not the rally) was Mel Gibson's bile-filled and inducing tirade, which we all learned about earlier in July.

You see, a few years ago, as he promoted The Passion of the Christ, he became the latest David for much of the Christian world. Like Israel's anointed king of old, he was our champion, casting rocks of truth at the cultural giants who have dominated for too long. I admit, with so many movies and plays about Jesus ranging in quality from poor to cheese, it was gratifying see a Jesus film of Hollywood quality craft - from acting to cinematography (the Aramaic/Latin was a nice touch too).

There was criticism, as you'll remember. The violence of torture and crucifixion was excruciating - an acquaintance called it "violence pornography." This didn't bother many of us - I've heard Good Friday lectures in which medical experts described, in graphic detail, the effects the process had on Jesus' body - every whip, nail and thorn. More to the point, each Sunday, I eat His flesh and drink His blood. Whenever the Lord's supper seems mundane in its familiar bread and wine, I remember the the expression a Chinese woman once made when I explained it to her. We both were in Germany at the time, and she knew nothing of Christianity, and her face contorted in surprise and disgust at such barbarism. Remembering the crucifixion, in all its barbarism, and the dark reality that it was in my place, remains a serious act of worship. Gibson may have taken it further than history or taste would have allowed (I do agree, he showed more than he needed to), but I wonder how many of these critics were so bothered by, say, Quentin Tarantino's flicks.

The more serious criticism was that of anti-semitism. I've never personally known a Christian who has promoted anti-semitism, and I was raised, along with many Christians, with a deep respect for Jewish people, not to mention a real awareness that all of our Biblical heroes were Abraham's descendants. However, many of us, myself included, were ignorant to the extent of which European passion-plays promoted anti-semitism, often to violent ends. Many Jews, of course, were not ignorant of this, and the Passion brought much darker collective memories.

Gibson, to defend his film, played the David, rallying conservatives and Christians alike to his cause. Friends of mine attended an event in his honor in Orlando, where local church leadership asked if they could pray and fast for him. Gibson, with a twinkle in his eye, jumped from his seat and said, "ok, nobody eat until the film comes out!" Whatever his original intentions, the Passion broke out into another culture-war battle, which only advantaged the film. Gibson was on the front line, a David on our behalf, throwing what we saw as stones, taking what we saw as slander.

Davids disappoint. Mel Gibson's marriage unraveled a couple years later, and gossip photos showed him drunk at parties with models in each arm. His inebriated, anti-semitic rant to police, seemed only to confirm the critics' view of his film. Then, to their delight, came the rant his second ex recorded this summer. Whether the tapes were fabricated, or whether he was just crazy, it put the nail in the coffin of his Hollywood career (so it seems), not to mention his role as anointed culture warrior.

Sounds familiar doesn't it? Actors, rock stars, presidents, prominent pastors - so many have been given the David mantle by excited evangelicals praying for the tide to turn. I've been caught up in it before, and I am not completely over the temptation not to get caught up again. I know I would hate to have that role myself - to have the hopes of Christians everywhere depend on my personality, decisions and ability not to sin. Of course, we know that the original David screwed up royally. (In fact, since he was king at the time, I wonder if that's where the phrase screwed up royally came from? Maybe the prophet Nathan coined it) This man after God's own heart committed adultery, covered it with murder, and set up a chain of events that led to bloody rebellion and civil war. He came through in the end, but what a cost.

David repented, privately and publicly. I hope that Mel Gibson will too, without the meddling of a PR team.

In the meantime, thousands of Americans marched on Washington this past weekend for an ecumenical church service of vague patriotic spirituality. Fortunately, this has caused some soul searching among Christians these days as many point out that whatever Glenn Beck is selling, it's not Christianity. But for others, he's wearing a heroes mantle, throwing rhetorical stones at perceived enemies, even as they throw back.

We look for heroes, but there is only one Anointed One who can bear that cross. We Christians, whether or not we stand in the light of cultural attention or political leadership, should honestly seek to emulate Him. Jesus is the hero of our story. Let's seek him first and stop searching for David.

Let the Children Read

In an otherwise enjoyable report about the phenomenon that is Harry Potter, the Economist correspondent praises J.K. Rowling for avoiding "the temptation to sneak ideology into children's heads by wrapping it in fantasy. C.S. Lewis's children's books... are spoiled by creeping piety."

Seriously?

One would hope an Economist correspondent is not disturbed by the thought a book with ideas. Historically, the story has always been the preferred method of conveying morality, religion and philosophy. If my literature teachers are to be believed, Homer's Odyssey was meant to reinforce the idea that without the gods, men are nothing, for example. The best books for the smallest children are full little ideologies such as parents should be obeyed, home is a good place to be, or that people who are different should be nonetheless respected.

Lewis is at its best when his writing is clearly Christian. Aslan's (a lion who represents Christ) death and resurrection in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, a boy's transformation and conversion in Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Aslan's appearance as a lamb at the end of the same book, a theological discussion with an evil witch (who insists that Aslan is not real, but a projection of cats the children had seen in her underworld) in The Silver Chair, Narnia's creation story in The Magician's Nephew and the apocalypse and paradise in The Last Battle are all Lewis at its best.

I should point out that the correspondent is an equally dismissive of Philip Pullman's "anti-clericalism," which causes his books to "suffer." I have not read his works, but my friends who have unanimously love The Golden Compass, though opinions of the rest of the series are mixed. Pullman is as blatant about his atheism as Lewis is about his Christianity. I suspect that this, in the same way, makes his books more interesting.

Perhaps the writer is offended that children could be exposed to religious (or anti-religious) themes? Pray, to what themes should a child be exposed? Granted, unlike Lewis or Pullman, Rowling's novels are not intended as an apology, per se. The Potter books are exciting as sort of a coming-of-age western with wands instead of guns, complete with a climatic magical shootout. But themes, philosophies, indeed ideologies persist, as they should be. These themes include self-sacrifice, the power of unconditional love and clear definitions of good and evil. No children's writer can be expected to write something without saying something about anything. The article even acknowledges feminist critiques of the series, but I wonder if a feminist might say the books are "spoiled" by creeping traditional gender roles. Some conservative Christians object to any book with magic, fearing that all such roads lead to demonic practices. Not every parent will approve of the Hogwarts hijinks, complete with snogging, butter beer and, something that made one parent I know very uncomfortable, perpetual lying to authority. Indeed, as the correspondent acknowledges, when a book becomes so popular, the critiques will follow.

The books that convey some sort of ideology, intentionally or unintentionally, must greatly outnumber those who somehow manage to avoid it, and many of those who try to avoid it command us to believe in nothing. Whoever penned the article should acknowledge that he or she simply is uncomfortable with religious ideas and speak with or censor his or her children as appropriate. Indeed both Lewis and Pullman were forthright about their intentions. While my own parents, encouraged certain books (as Christians, they happily read the Narnia series to my sisters and me), I am grateful that they did little to censor my reading. They did, however, keep the communication open. I hope to do the same with my children. I agree with and will attempt to raise them in the Christian faith, and Lewis will surely play a role. If they want to read Pullman, Rowling, Dan Brown or anything else that is clearly not bent on destruction, they may, but I will speak with them about it. Movies, TV shows, websites even commercials convey some sort of worldview, some of which I will find appealing and some I will find appalling. The fact that Lewis and Pullman have something intelligent to say about transcendence should be refreshing, and the fact that the writer seems to expect children to grow up without reference to ideas, or indeed ideologies, is baffling.

Children will be getting ideas from somewhere or something, all the time. Their teachers, whatever the form, will only in the rarest of cases be without bias. Part of their growing up will be deciding for themselves. Let's guide them, but let's give the a little more credit.

Jane Austen's sillier characters

When your wife is pregnant, movie date nights involves very mild films. This is because pregnancy tends to heighten a woman's emotions, and any film where anything truly bad happens to anyone, particularly if violence is involved, will cause your wife, your unborn child and you not to sleep through the night. This is especially true if, say, an innocent vegetable is hacked to pieces with a kitchen knife and thrown into a salad. A few weeks ago, deciding that HBO's John Adam's miniseries is too violent, we flipped through the channels in search of an alternative. Fortunately, the Disney Channel was showing Aladdin, and the giant-snake cartoon violence at the end was too unrealistic to be a threat.

Last night, instead of risking a non-family friendly rental, we broke out our copy of Sense and Sensibility, the most tolerable Jane Austen film for us men. In Jane Austen films (I'm using this for short-hand - I know Austen wrote the books and that directors and writers, in this case Ang Le and Emma Thompson, adapted it to the screen), the main characters are well developed and multifaceted, but many of the side characters, particularly the comically unpleasant ones, are very one dimmensional. I cannot speak for the books, have never read them (nor do I intend to), of course. The background characters are fools or gossips or greedy villains with no or few redeeming qualities to see, and watching Sense and Sensibility play off all of these familiar characteristics reminded me how easy it is to take the shallow view of someone in the real world.

One particularly despicable character reminded me of an acquaintance, and I was tempted to dismiss this person in my mind again due to the more awful characteristics. I know that there is more to this person, more than a cartoon sketch makes for comfortable categorization. Austen's work put to film would be too tedious if these characters were given more three-dimensional personalities. Of course, I can see myself in the cowardice and indecisiveness of many of Austen's men (though they are fleshed out in more redeeming ways). But it's good to be reminded that our loose characterizations of others - in our art, in our jokes, in our thoughts - don't show the full picture. How easy it would be for those who don't have the time or the space to get to know me assume my quirks, idiosyncrasies and, to put it bluntly, sins, paint the whole picture.

Pages of Forgiveness and Reconciliation

I was surprised to see, on Catherine Claire Larson's Facebook wall, that someone had read her book As We Forgive in one day. It took me several weeks. Not because it is cumbersome or boring, but because it is emotionally and spiritually intense. And appropriately so. As We Forgive is the personal stories of Rwandan genocide survivors who found the grace to forgive the perpetrators, inspired by Laura Waters Hinson's amazing film.

Her book appears to be exceeding expectations on Amazon.com, but I do want to point a few reasons why you should read it (but clear your mind and find a place to rest first - you will need processing time).

First, at least from this amateur's perspective, it is very well written. This isn't something you could say about a lot of books you might find in an evangelical book store. Catherine takes the time to paint the picture of each of her subjects, ever sure to include Rwanda's landscape - sights, sounds, smells, touches. It's patient work, but a necessary backdrop to remind us of the humanity and history of victims and perpetrators. It also makes the brutality somehow easier to digest. Tragedy and hope happen between human interactions, ordinary work, school, church and family. It takes a skillful writer, and Catherine meets the challenge with grace.

Second, I like the way it was written. There are seven wrenching but beautiful narratives, but before and after each one are reflections on forgiveness and reconciliation. This helps make it possible to digest each of the stories, but they are also meant to challenge us. Some of our Rwandan brothers and sisters inspire us to forgive one another, but we still need to be shown the way. The reflections begin to achieve this. They are short, but they are still deeper than most self-help book, and there is a good balance of reporting, counseling and scholarship.

Finally, I want to say that though the book is more explicitly Christian than the film, this is a good introduction to Christianity to anyone who may otherwise put off by a Christian publisher. There is nothing in the pages of As We Forgive that could be considered proselytizing, but the stories speak for themselves. The ministry of reconciliation, where we are reconciled in love to God and neighbor, is what makes Christianity so compelling, so powerful to many, and a strong argument for the Gospel. If you have ever wondered why anyone would embrace this religion, read and see.

In short, read As We Forgive, take time to reflect, and ask yourself if you need reconciliation.

Is identity reallly such a bad thing?

A good way to understand the belief-fatigue in a post-modern culture is to watch the film Downfall (must-viewing for non-Germans considering ministry in Germany). Downfall depicts the last week of Hitler's life in the famous Berlin bunker, based on the memoirs of his personal secretary (who only died very recently). The film is not so much about the monstrous nature of Nazism (though it does not attempt to cover its monstrous nature), but a dark depiction of men and women holding on to their faith in a dark man and a dark system to the very end.

Among many painfully memorable scenes is one about two Nazi youths, a boy and a girl (perhaps 15 or so), who fight nearby in the trenches against the Soviets. There are few soldiers left, so old men and children are defending Berlin. When it is clear that the Soviet army would overrun the city, the two youths commit suicide. The girl has the boy shoot her as she raises her arm in a final Nazi salute. The boy then shoots himself in the head.

The lesson that many in Europe seemed to take from the war is that belief is not safe. The Nazis bunkered in Berlin died for their faith. People fought wars because they believed in things: their nations, Nazism, Communism, Capitalism, their interpretation of civilization or religion. The post-moderns concluded that in order to preserve peace, we should avoid commitment to any such meta-narrative.

This stands in contrast to the American lessons of World War II. It seemed like belief in country and the righteousness of our cause enabled our eventual victory. Unlike Europe, we walked away stronger. Americans had a strong sense of identity, and most saw nothing wrong with a strong religious or political identity.

That might be starting to change. Strongly identifying with with a country or party or faith is starting to look more and more unappealing. Perhaps September 11 and Islamist terrorism have something to do with it. Perhaps it was President Bush, whose strong religious and national identity helped him get elected, but whose politics from Iraq to New Orleans to the economy has made such identity look foolish. Perhaps ideological bickering among our leaders makes no sense in the wake of an economic crisis. There are likely more positive reasons as well. The rise of mass communication and travel exposes us to more points of view that may challenge the identities we once have. Many of us are tired of it. Paul Graham, observing fruitless religious and political arguments online, is too.

One of Brian's "daily dozens" a couple weeks ago included a Paul Graham essay arguing that we should avoid identity as much as possible.

His begins with observing the seemingly inevitable breakdown of civility when religion comes up on an online forum. He observes, "no thread on Javascript will grow as fast as one about religion, because people feel they have to be over some threshold of expertise to post a comment on that." Mr. Graham goes on to make the same point about politics.

I mostly disagree with this statement. The Internet surely attracts its share of loudmouths for whom anonymity frees to post whatever they want. But the problem with religion and politics is not one of expertise. Indeed, religion and politics are "for the people." Many of us have attended a religious education class every Saturday or Sunday (or Friday) since childhood. We have been educated in civics, politics and history. Perhaps I can be forgiven for thinking that Javascript has less dimensions that these subjects.

Nonetheless, I feel no small amount of sympathy for avoiding identity. I hate being identified with anything undesirable or foolish. I live in the epicenter of American politics, and I have good friends working on Capitol Hill (for both parties) and in the administration. Many are intelligent and passionate. I am often reluctant to plainly state the few political views I do have. When conversations turn to political discussions, I often fear I don't have enough factual information in my arsenal than those working in political think-tanks with information and experts at their finger-tips. Moreover, I hate being boxed in or pegged down. (I pointed this out to my boss in Germany one time as we were going over my Myers-Briggs results. He said that is a typical response from my personality type)

Like Mr. Graham, presumably, I have a strong distaste for "talk-radio" style political or religious discussion, with all its labeling and appeal to anger and hate. But Graham takes it too far. "People can never have a fruitful argument about something that's part of their identity," he writes. Later he says, "More generally, you can have a fruitful discussion about a topic only if it doesn't engage the identities of any of the participants."

Is this where identity necessarily leads? Idea dodge ball with no end in the best cases? War and terrorism in the worst?

Like, I said, I have a lot of sympathy for post-modern identity-fatigue. I despise fruitless discussion, and I certainly fear terrorists and ideologue politicians. But history has too many examples of people whose very identities played a role for the good. We cannot seriously ignore this. Of less importance, my life has been filled with fruitful, challenging conversations about subjects that all participants identified with.

Mr. Graham's conclusion causes me to wonder about his choice of friends. Do none of them have strong identities, religious, political or otherwise? Has he never once had a fruitful conversation about these issues with them? I worked in Christian ministry in Germany. Essentially, it means I have a strong religious identity, and it was once my profession to talk with others about it (something I still enjoy doing, though I have less context these days). I challenged many identities, and many people were perfectly willing to challenge mine. At the moment, I can think of only once where the conversation was unfruitful due to identity, and the person in question seemed all wrapped up in being unaffiliated. Before my stint in Germany, I went to college. I had all sorts of conversations, both fruitful and fruitless, about religion, politics, you name it. Has Mr. Graham ever taken a philosophy class? Was there not one person in the class who identified with a certain philosophy who could engage in fruitful conversation about it?

Let's move to history. Think of people who really worked for the good in history. Francis of Assisi. William Wilberforce. Abraham Lincoln. Mahatma Gandhi. Martin Luther King. Mother Theresa. These were persons of strong identities, whose identities helped them undertake monumental tasks for positive change. Their identities did not lead to stupidity. Their identities led them to a kind of courage too few of us have.

I think the problem is not identity, but of maturity. The Apostle Paul speaks of this when he warns the Romans of "zeal without knowledge." I would argue that this knowledge includes an understanding and appreciation for basic morality - the golden rule, found at least paraphrased in most religious school of thought: "do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Zeal without knowledge is behind many violent acts, religious wars especially. Zeal without knowledge remains popular because it is politically useful and makes good television. Talk radio tends to wind it up, and the Internet allows us to express our zeal about anything without taking time to learn and appreciate. Maturity takes time and process and work, whether one is learning javascript or theology.

Perhaps Spiritual maturity would help here as well. Paul again teaches that the Holy Spirit provides this. The fruit of the Spirit, writes Paul to the Galatians, "is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control." It's disheartening that the loudest of Christians often posses so little of this. But I know I want to identify with the fruit Paul describes.

So, if we want to avoid being dumb (or fanatical or violent), we can keep our identities as small as possible, as Paul Graham suggests. Or, we can have strong identities, but commit to maturity.

Some notes on hope and peace for Christmas

Looking for some hope this Christmas? Peggy Noonan offers some perspective for Americans, considering the challenges we face. Even deeper and more universal are Catherine Claire Larson's thoughts on peace on earth, good will to men. Catherine has authored a companion book to Laura's film on forgiveness and reconciliation after the Rwandan genocide (I am anxious to read it). In her work, she has seen forgiveness bring peace on earth in a very unlikely place.

Linked in

I added more links to the side of my blog. Take a lazy day, perhaps while it is raining and you are feeling reflective, and linger through these websites. Most of them are my friends. I've never met anyone from Over the Rhine, but you can listen to their beautiful music for free, and it goes well with rain and reflection. 

Feel the Love

Now that Barack Obama has gained the presidency, the rest of the world (with the possible exception of Pakistan) likes us again. Even during our recent troubles, the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung made a list of reasons why the rest of the world can’t get enough of us. Since some of those who read these words are unable to read German, I’ll provide a list right here, in English, with my own commentaries (after all, it is my blog).

1.     Fashion

Okay, I don’t know why this is first, since Britain and Italy are more renown in this area. And, as any woman in my life would affirm, it’s not my forte, either. I’m told Sex in the City influences fashion and causes women to buy things. Hopefully the current financial crisis will promote savings instead. In any case, the world must like the way we, (well… some of us) dress.

2.     TV Series

My wife and are just finished up the 4^th season of Lost, and we are eagerly awaiting season 5. As a rule, I remain addicted to only one show at a time. The article sites West Wing, Frasier and Malcom in the Middle as some of their favorites. I can only speak to the second, which I like. 24 has kept my attention in the past, and Homer Simpson remains one of our biggest ambassadors.

3.     Rock Music

Amen, amen, amen. True, Great Britain has contributed almost as much (and thus more per-capita) to rock and roll. But in every American town, you can find the love affair between boy and guitar, producing beautiful music, much of which you will never hear. Today’s indy-rock scene is no longer what dominates top-40 radio, but scratch below the surface, and some amazing stuff is growing. Fresh grown rock was noticeably missing from Germany. The FAZ writer mentions Vampire Weekend as one of American rock’s current torch bearers. I’m going to recommend a couple of friends. For some good tunes, check out the Tortoise and the Hair, the Northernness and Andy Matchett. For good measure, the Oaks, are friends of friends, and are quite good as well.

4.     Love for children

Evidently, we treat our kids good here. We do produce some pretty good toys, although Denmark is home to Lego.

5.     Literature

A Nobel Prize judge recently said that no good literature is produced in America. The FAZ debunks this, citing Philip Roth and John Updike. For those of you who have not read him yet, I’m going to recommend Wendell Berry (though I don’t think he would approve of blogs).

6.     Film

Plenty of great indy movies have come from America, but Hollywood is king – and a huge ambassador to the world. As much as the artistic type in us may want to bash it, I’m sure we can all think of a star-studded Hollywood flick we love. I was in Germany when The Last Samurai came out. German critics blasted Tom Cruise’s film as un-historical, saying that its homage to the Samurai ideal would be like writing a film on church history based on the ideals of Christian love. Ok, I have to agree, The Last Samurai was a horrible film, but it does illustrate that Hollywood is often more about the ideal than about reality. Just like America. That may bristle at times, but it is not always unappealing.

7.     The Debating Culture

Interesting that the Germans would say this – they love a good debate, though these are often longer, more abstract affairs. However, the article pointed more to the comedy that came out of the debates – Stephen Colbert, Jon Stewart and Tina Fey. I have to say, our political satire is second-to-none.

8.     Universities

Okay, we do rock the top university lists. I did not go to an elite university, but they do look good on resumes. One thing that we have that many Europeans do not is the campus. Some of the best moments in college were sitting in the grass between brick buildings, playing guitar, reading and talking to those who disagreed with me.

9.     Friendliness

I’m from the south, and there is an appeal to the southern charm. However, I do find the unabashed honesty of the Germans (or even more so, the Chinese. They will honestly let you know if you’ve gained weight since they last saw you) is quite refreshing.

10. New York

Don’t get me wrong, New York is great. We hope to bus up there soon. But don’t let that be the only part of America you see. There’s so much more.

11. Basketball

I like basketball too, but I am homesick for the Michael Jordan era. Now, the most interesting part of the NBA for me is how international the sport is becoming. Indeed, probably the only reason it is mentioned in a German magazine is the rise of Dirk Nowinsky. If you want to try a truly American sport (ask any Canadian where basketball was invented), check out college football. I know the typical European complaints. They stop and every down, the action is not constant. True, but once the action gets started again, anything can happen: Hard hits, stunning displays of athleticism, and piles of bodies all over the field. Moreover, as one college football commentator said on a radio show, football is the only sport where every person is involved in every play. Blocks down the field effect how far a ball will travel. I was in Paris when France won the world cup. But I was also in Tallahassee in 2000 when the recount stopped for the Florida State-Florida game. FSU won, and the victory propelled us into the national title game. A college football rivalry in the south has an electricity not duplicated elsewhere.

12. Indian Summer

I think I lived in Florida too long for this one, and D.C. is not far enough north. Sounds nice though. 

Forgiveness and Reconciliation in the Washington Post

This past April, I had the privilege of seeing Laura Waters Hinson’s excellent film, As We Forgive, on forgiveness and reconciliation in Rwanda. See the film, buy the film and tell your friends. This past Saturday’s Washington Post wrote about Laura – not just the film, but about how the lesson of forgiveness and reconciliation met her on a very personal level. Read all about here. As We Forgive should inspire all of us to a Christ-like forgiveness. His ministry was of reconciliation to God and to each other. It's beautiful to read how it started with the filmmaker herself.  

Hirshhorn

There were two things that especially struck me at the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden. I almost bought one of them.

We braved Sunday's storms to take advantage of D.C.'s free pieces of culture and made it there with soaked ankles and a couple of soy-based granola bars, courtesy of a storm that did not apologize for danger, excitement, wetness and inconvenience, and some hippies who did not apologize for believing the world would be safer and cleaner if we all ate more soy.

Hirshhorn is in a cylinder-shaped building with bronze sculptures dancing in the grass all around it. They did not seemed to mind the rain, and I tried to follow their example. The building is also skirted by a convenient roof so we could enjoy the wet, delicious air and watch the hippies run for shelter as we squeezed rain out of our pant-legs.

The first thing that struck me was a current exhibit called The Cinema Effect: Illusion, Reality and the Movie Image, Part I: Dreams. According to the Hirshhorn website, Dreams "addresses film’s ability to transport us out of our everyday lives and into a dream world. Using a series of artists’ installations, the exhibition moves us through the different stages of consciousness and dreaming, from those moments between wakefulness and sleep to the darker recesses of the imagination and fantasy. Dreams is curated by chief curator Kerry Brougher and associate curator Kelly Gordon."

It succeeded for me, and it seemed to succeed for other museum goers. The darkness of the whole exhibit, each installation, kept me in a constant, isolated feeling between awake and asleep. (Incidentally, the effect gave my wife a headache, but she was nice enough to wait for me while I meandered through to get the whole effect) These were not Disney dreams, but honest explorations of the subconscious. Parts were strange, fascinating, morbid, beautiful and frightening. It explored isolation, fear, sexuality, violence, desire, love, abandonment, and many other abstract echoes from the deep that we have all felt waiting for morning to approach. Each installation was a piece of film, set up by artists from all over the world (most of whom found their way to New York, London or Berlin). The use of film, screen, sound, light were all different. Some were interactive, some were traditional. In "You and I Horizontal" the viewer feels himself to be part of the light of the film itself (I won't explain it more than this - see it yourself). My favorite film was called "Eight," which follows a little girl in a dream-like loop through a party (her eighth birthday, perhaps?) drenched by a dark storm. Ok, it's better than I'm making it sound. I'm looking forward to part II.

The other thing that struck me was a book I browsed in the gift shop called Street: The Nylon Book of Global Style. Perhaps the title is a bit unfair. It only explores interesting fashion cities - New York, Paris, Berlin, Hong Kong, etc..., leaving important populations and styles unexplored. It really was not the style that interested me. I had never heard of Nylon the magazine before. Indeed, I am not that interested in reading the magazine itself, but I loved the concept of the book, nonetheless. They found interesting people, the kinds of people that I used to be drawn to in Germany as we would carry a tray of soggy salad and strange noodles to speak with isolated students about Jesus. They would take a picture each person and fill the page with it. They would ask them their name, occupation, what they were wearing and fashion icon (I can imagine the puzzled looks many gave at this one. My favorite answer was the young woman who said her grandmother). Many of the clothes were hand-me downs, many of the occupations were artists, many were too thin but attractively cool. They were pictures of people who cried for a spirituality, the kind of people I hope for, pray for, want to meet.

Pan's Labyrinth

"Men talked of their deaths and of pain, but they dared not speak of the promise of eternal life."

As the credits rolled, no one moved to the exits. The handful of us who had forgone March Madness basketball for an artsy film sat in the dark in a reverence that transcended mere thoughtfulness. "Pan's Labyrinth" is a beautiful film, not as a sunset is beautiful, but as a Van Gogh painting is beautiful, touching dark parts of the soul that want to be both left alone and expressed.

I know a lot of people who didn't like the film, and there was part of me that didn't want to (and part of me that really wanted to for completely shallow reasons). It's a fairly tale that is not for children, yet it's a child's perspective on the brutality of war. Like Alice and Lucy, the protagonist, a young girl named Ophelia, visits a mystical, fantasy land. But this land is much darker, often literally not just in but of earth, haunted by giant toads and fearsome, child eating trolls. As in Lucy's story, there's a fawn, but this fawn is not fuzzy or huggable. He looks made of the earth, wooden in parts, as if his knees should have leaves shooting out of them. His personality and mood seem to shift every time she sees him - giddy, condescending, spiteful, mirthful, fierce. He is repelling and inviting. He can't be grasped, controlled or predicted. He tells her she is the reincarnation of an underworld princess who must complete three tasks to return to her father. None of these tasks are particularly sanitized.

This fantasy world lurks behind a reality that is much more grim. She has moved to the country with her mother who is "sick with a baby" (as Ophelia sees it) and her brutal step-father. The step-father is a military captain charged with hounding out some resistance fighters in the residue of the Spanish Civil War. He's hot and cold - relish violence, torture and some sort of honorable death in war - and ranks among the best movie villains.

I can't describe the movie much more than that. Yet, there's a lot more I can say, but I want to blog while the film is more of an un-processed feeling. I have the same feeling now as I did after seeing 'the Godfather" for the first time. It's the feeling that this is a complete piece of cinema that needs nothing added to it. Like the Fawn in the film, it's something you can't completely hold or categorize; it's both repulsive and alluring, both damaging and healing. Part of me may long for a more obviously redemptive film, yet it offers the kind of hope that most of us see in this world - something distant, beautiful and dangerously beyond our own definitions and understandings. See the film, though heed the appropriate warning that it is as brutal as its villain, and they do not hide the violence of war or torture.

To taste the feeling of this film, go to the website at www.panslabyrinth.com and listen to the score. The tune is mysterious, playful, teasing, hopeful, full of fantasy, filled with dreams and incredibly sad. Much like the film itself.